#g!p

Shattered Veil (Part 2)

Pairing: Abusive G!P 30!Reader x 18!Megan Skiendiel

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Extremely dark. Graphic non-con/dub-con, brutal rough sex during late pregnancy, physical violence, choking, slapping, degradation, birth scene with medical trauma, discovery of abuse, severe PTSD, emotional and physical aftermath.

The bedroom smelled like sweat, cum, and fear. Megan was on her hands and knees, eight-and-a-half months pregnant, her massive belly hanging low and swaying with every brutal thrust. Her face was pressed into the pillow, muffling her sobs as you railed her from behind.

Your thick cock stretched her swollen, abused pussy to its limit, slamming against her cervix with punishing force. One of your hands fisted her hair, yanking her head back painfully while the other cracked against her ass hard enough to leave fresh red handprints over older bruises.

“Take it, you worthless pregnant slut,” you snarled, hips snapping forward viciously. “This is what you exist for—getting fucked raw and swelling up with my kid.”

Megan cried out, body jerking. “Please—too rough—the baby—”

You slapped her ass again, harder. “Shut the fuck up. She’s fine. You’re just a tight hole for me to breed.” You reached around and squeezed one of her heavy, leaking tits, milk spraying onto the sheets as you pinched her nipple cruelly. Your hand slid up to wrap around her throat, squeezing until her vision spotted.

You fucked her even harder, the wet, obscene sounds of your cock destroying her soaked cunt filling the room. Her walls fluttered desperately around you despite the pain. You leaned over her pregnant body, biting her shoulder deep enough to draw blood.

“Beg me to cum inside you. Tell me you’re nothing without my cock.”

“I’m nothing—please cum inside me,” she sobbed brokenly.

You laughed darkly and slammed in to the hilt, flooding her with thick, hot cum as you choked her through your orgasm. Megan shattered too, pussy milking you greedily even as tears streamed down her face.

Then it happened.

A huge gush of fluid soaked your thighs and the bed. Her water had broken.

Megan gasped in panic. “It’s coming—oh god, the baby—”

The labor was hell.

You drove her to the hospital, one hand gripping her thigh possessively the entire way while she panted through contractions. At the hospital, they rushed her to delivery. Two nurses took charge immediately.

The first was Daniela—stunning with long dark hair, sharp features, and an intense, observant gaze. The second was Sophia—elegant and poised with striking presence and kind but professional eyes.

They worked efficiently, getting Megan settled, monitoring the baby, and preparing for delivery. During the initial exam, both nurses froze.

Sophia’s voice stayed calm but her eyes sharpened. “Megan… these bruises and tears. How did they happen?”

Daniela gently checked further, noting the patterned fingerprints on her inner thighs, the fresh bite marks, the vaginal trauma that was clearly not just from labor—older injuries layered with new ones from repeated rough sex.

Megan broke down sobbing between contractions but managed to whisper fragments of the truth. The isolation. The forced sex. The violence. The control.

The nurses exchanged a grave look. They documented everything thoroughly—photos, notes, statements. Social services and police were alerted discreetly while Megan labored.

The birth itself was long and agonizing. Megan pushed for hours, screaming, exhausted and terrified. You tried to stay in the room, hovering with fake concern, but the nurses firmly kept you at a distance “for medical reasons.”

When your daughter was finally born—healthy, loud, and perfect—Megan collapsed in relief and exhaustion. They placed the baby girl on her chest. For the first time in months, Megan cried tears that weren’t purely from fear.

While you waited outside, the system moved.

The evidence was overwhelming. The nurses’ detailed reports, Megan’s medical records showing repeated trauma, her tearful account once she felt even slightly safe. The baby-trapping, the age lie, the forced dropout, the ongoing sexual and physical abuse even late in pregnancy.

Police arrested you before you could leave the hospital. You fought, cursed, threatened—but the cuffs clicked shut. The case against you was rock solid. No charm or violence could dig you out of this one.

Four Months Later

Megan sat in a bright, safe apartment in supported housing. The program provided security, counseling, and resources for young mothers escaping abuse. Her daughter Lily was thriving—chubby cheeks, bright eyes, and a laugh that healed something deep inside Megan every time she heard it.

Dr. Ramirez, her psychologist, sat across from her in their weekly session. “How have the nightmares been this week?”

“Better,” Megan admitted quietly. Her voice was still soft, but stronger. “I still wake up sometimes feeling… hands on me. Choking. But I remember where I am now. I remember Lily.”

The road had been brutal. Severe PTSD from the prolonged abuse. Flashbacks during medical exams. Panic attacks when anyone raised their voice. But therapy was helping her rebuild. She was starting to believe she deserved safety. That Lily deserved a mother who wasn’t broken by fear.

Nurse Daniela and Nurse Sophia had checked in a few times. Daniela with her intense, protective energy brought practical gifts for Lily. Sophia offered quiet strength and encouragement. They reminded Megan that she had done the hardest part—surviving.

“You got her out,” Sophia had told her softly during one visit. “You both made it.”

Megan looked down at Lily sleeping peacefully in her arms. The bruises had faded. The nightmares were becoming less frequent. She was enrolled in online classes again, slowly rebuilding her future.

You remained behind bars, facing years of charges: domestic violence, sexual assault, child endangerment, and more. The evidence from that night alone—combined with Megan’s testimony and medical proof—ensured you would stay there for a very long time.

Megan pressed a gentle kiss to Lily’s forehead.

“We’re free, baby,” she whispered. “Just you and me.”

Risk and Ruin

Pairing: Nerdy g!p Reader x Mean Daniela Avanzini

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), g!p reader, semi-public sex, risk of exposure/exhibitionism, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, dirty talk, power imbalance, mean/bratty dom Daniela, possessive behavior, strong language,

The library at the back of the elite private academy smelled like old paper and polished oak. Sunlight slanted through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. You were tucked into the farthest corner, headphones on, glasses slipping down your nose as you annotated a dense physics text. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, pencil tapping rhythmically—classic nerd camouflage. Safe. Invisible.

Until Daniela Avanzini decided you weren’t.

She appeared like a storm in designer skirts: long dark hair cascading over one shoulder, uniform blouse unbuttoned one too many times, lips painted that signature blood-red. The mean girl. The one who ruled hallways with a smirk and a cutting tongue. Everyone knew better than to cross her. Everyone except you, apparently, because she’d caught you staring once—two weeks ago in the courtyard—and decided you belonged to her now.

You felt her before you saw her. The shift in the air. The way conversations outside the stacks quieted. Then her scent—expensive vanilla and something sharper—wrapped around you as she slid into the seat across from yours.

“Eyes up, four-eyes,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough.

You looked. Big mistake. Her eyes were dark fire, lashes heavy. She propped her chin on her hand, studying you like you were a puzzle she’d already solved.

“I’m busy,” you muttered, trying to sound firm. Your voice cracked anyway.

Daniela’s smile was slow, cruelly sweet. “You’re always busy. Buried in books while your cock’s probably aching under that ugly hoodie. Poor little nerd.” She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that went straight to your groin. “Bet it’s hard right now just from me sitting here.”

Heat flooded your face. You were hard. Painfully so. The thick length of your cock strained against your uniform slacks, trapped and throbbing at the mere sound of her voice. She always did this—knew exactly how to unravel you.

“Daniela, we’re in the library—”

“Shut up.” She stood gracefully, rounded the table, and dropped to her knees between your legs before you could protest. The heavy wooden table hid her completely from anyone glancing down the aisle. Heart hammering, you glanced around. A few students milled about three rows away. Someone coughed. Pages turned.

Her fingers made quick work of your zipper. “Look at me.”

You did. Her eyes locked on yours as she freed your cock—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. The cool library air hit sensitive skin and you bit your lip hard.

“Fuck, it’s so pretty when it’s this needy,” she purred. No hesitation. She leaned in and took you into her hot, wet mouth in one smooth glide.

A strangled sound escaped your throat. You gripped the edge of the table as her tongue swirled around the head, sucking greedily. Daniela didn’t tease today; she devoured. Hollowed cheeks, obscene slurping sounds barely muffled by the table. She bobbed deep, throat relaxing to take half your length, then more, until her nose brushed your pelvis.

“Shit—Daniela,” you hissed, one hand fisting in her hair before you could stop yourself.

She hummed around you, the vibration shooting pleasure up your spine. Her free hand pumped the base she couldn’t swallow, slick with spit. Every pass of her lips was filthy, perfect pressure, her mean little tongue pressing against the underside just how you liked. You could hear footsteps nearby. A chair scraping. The danger made everything sharper.

She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to your glistening cock. “Don’t you dare come yet,” she warned, voice husky. “You’re going to fuck me right here.”

Your brain short-circuited. “What? No, someone will—”

She stood, turned, and hiked her skirt up in one motion. No panties. Of course. Her bare ass and slick pussy were right there, glistening. She braced her hands on the table and looked back over her shoulder, eyes blazing with challenge.

“Fuck me, nerd. Or I’ll scream your name and let everyone see what a desperate slut you are for me.”

You were standing before your mind caught up. Hands on her hips, you lined up the fat head of your cock with her dripping entrance and pushed in. One long, relentless thrust. She was tight, scorching hot, already clenching around you like she wanted to milk you dry.

Daniela moaned low, head falling forward. “That’s it. All the way. Fill me up.”

You bottomed out, balls pressed against her, and started moving. Hard, deep strokes that made the table creak softly. Her pussy fluttered around every inch, greedy and wet. The sound of skin meeting skin was quiet but unmistakable if anyone came closer. You reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles while you fucked her.

“Yes—fuck, right there,” she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. Her walls squeezed you rhythmically, drawing you deeper. “Harder. I want to feel you for days.”

You gave it to her. Snapping your hips, pounding into her slick heat while trying desperately not to groan too loud. Her juices ran down your shaft, coating your balls. The risk was intoxicating—anyone could walk around the corner and see the queen of the school bent over getting railed by the quiet nerd.

Daniela came first, sudden and violent. Her pussy clamped down, pulsing, a gush of wetness flooding around your cock as she bit her own arm to stay quiet. The sight and sensation broke you. You buried yourself deep and came hard, thick ropes of cum painting her insides, spilling out around your shaft as you kept shallowly thrusting through it.

She straightened after a moment, turned, and kissed you filthy—tongue and teeth and possession. Then she tucked your spent cock back into your pants with surprising gentleness, patted your cheek, and whispered, “Good girl. My turn to pick the next spot.”

It became a pattern. A dangerous, addictive game.

The next day it was the girls’ bathroom during lunch. Daniela dragged you into the largest stall, locked the door, and shoved you against the wall. “On your knees.”

You dropped. She lifted one leg over your shoulder, skirt around her waist, and rode your face until she was shaking, smearing her slick all over your mouth and glasses. When she came, she ground down hard, whispering the filthiest praise: “Such a good fucking tongue. My perfect nerd. Lick it all up.”

Then she bent over the sink, hands braced on the mirror, and made you fuck her from behind while she watched your reflection. “Look how desperate you are for my cunt. Pathetic. But it’s mine.” You filled her again, cum dripping down her thighs when she walked out like nothing happened, leaving you to clean up and hide the evidence.

After class, the empty stairwell. She rode you on the steps, skirt spread over your lap, grinding slow and deep while footsteps echoed somewhere above. Every time someone passed a floor up, she clenched around you and smirked at your panicked expression. “Don’t stop. I want your cum leaking out of me during practice.”

You gave it to her, groaning into her neck as you pumped her full again.

The tension built like a storm. Daniela grew bolder. Meaner in the sweetest way.

In the locker room after hours, she pushed you onto a bench and sank down onto your cock reverse cowgirl, facing the door. Anyone could walk in. She bounced on you with athletic grace, ass rippling, pussy swallowing every thick inch. “Imagine the look on their faces,” she panted, reaching back to spread herself wider. “Seeing the school’s bitch getting stuffed by your fat nerd dick.”

You gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, the wet slap echoing. Her moans grew louder on purpose. You had to muffle her with your hand, which only made her ride you harder, pussy gushing.

When you came, she stayed seated, clenching to keep every drop inside. Then she turned, dropped to her knees, and cleaned you with her mouth—slow, worshipful licks mixed with that sharp, mean smile.

“You’re ruining me,” you whispered, voice wrecked.

“Good,” she said, kissing the tip of your cock. “I want you obsessed. I want you hard every time you see me.”

The peak came during a late-night study session in the science wing. The building was mostly empty. Daniela had you bent over a lab table, skirt flipped up, taking you from behind again. Deep, punishing strokes. Your glasses fogged. Her nails dug into your forearms where you braced yourself.

“Tell me you love it,” she demanded, voice breathy but commanding.

“I love it—fuck, I love your pussy, Daniela. Love how you use me.”

She laughed, low and pleased, then reached back to play with your balls, squeezing just right. “Come on, fill me again. Breed me right here where anyone could walk by and see what a whore I am for you.”

The words sent you over. You slammed deep and unloaded, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding her. She came with you, walls milking every drop, a broken moan escaping despite her efforts to stay quiet.

After, she turned in your arms and kissed you properly—slow, deep, almost tender beneath the meanness. Her fingers traced your jaw.

“You’re mine now,” she said softly. “Everywhere. Anytime. Don’t you dare hide that cock from me again.”

You nodded, dazed, cock twitching back to life already at the promise in her eyes.

The bell tower. The rooftop. The back of the auditorium during rehearsal. Every stolen moment was hotter than the last—her mouth on you in the parking lot at dusk, your cock buried in her throat while she looked up with tear-streaked mascara and wicked satisfaction. Fucking her against the vending machine in the deserted hallway, the mechanical hum covering the sounds of her begging for more.

Daniela never cared about getting caught. She thrived on it. And you—quiet, nerdy, hopelessly gone for her—gave her everything she demanded.

nikki got really jealous of how sarah was practically throwing herself onto reader while reader was being oblivious to it and then nikki pulled her to the bathroom and fucked her so good that reader had to beg her to stop bc of how shes unable to handle how good it feels. when they finally finished, nikki walked out of the bathroom looking completely satisfied, wearing the biggest smug grin on her face, while reader stumbled out behind her looking disheveled, hair a mess and hickeys scattered all over her neck and collarbone.

Jealousy Looks Good on You

Pairing: g!p Reader x (pre-wish) Nikki Freeman

Warnings: Explicit smut, g!p reader (female anatomy with penis), possessive/jealous sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, begging, marking, rough sex turning tender, strong language, consensual but intense. 18+ only.

The music store was dead after closing, but the after-hours energy in the back room was anything but. Cassell’s had become the unofficial hub for the group—Bear nursing a warm beer while arguing with Ian over some obscure vinyl, Sarah perched on the edge of the counter like she owned the place, and you leaning against the wall, half-listening, half-watching Nikki move.

Nikki Freeman was magnetic without even trying. Dark hair falling in effortless waves, that easy, bro-y laugh that lit up her whole face, the way her band tee hugged her curves just right when she reached for another record. Pre-wish Nikki was sunshine wrapped in sarcasm, the kind of girl who could tease you mercilessly one second and have your back the next. You’d been circling each other for months—flirty banter, late-night texts about nothing, stolen glances that felt like more.

Tonight, though, Sarah was on a mission.

“God, you look good in that shirt,” Sarah said, voice pitched low as she slid closer to you, her fingers brushing your arm. “Seriously, Y/N. You been working out? Because it’s working.”

You chuckled, oblivious as always, rubbing the back of your neck. “Nah, just the usual. Lifting boxes in the stockroom doesn’t count as a gym, Sarah.”

She laughed too loud, leaning in so her shoulder pressed against yours, her hand lingering on your bicep. “Modest and strong. Dangerous combo.”

Across the room, Nikki’s laugh cut off mid-sentence. You didn’t notice the way her jaw tightened or how her fingers clenched around her beer bottle until the glass creaked. Bear and Ian were deep in their own debate, but Nikki’s eyes were locked on Sarah’s hand on you. The easy smile she usually wore around the group had sharpened into something darker, hungrier.

You were too busy being politely dense to catch it.

Sarah kept going—compliments, teasing touches, that bright laugh that screamed available. Every time she tossed her hair or “accidentally” bumped her hip into yours, Nikki’s gaze burned hotter. You cracked a joke about the new shipment of indie pressings, and Sarah practically melted, calling you hilarious while pressing closer.

That was the final straw.

Nikki set her bottle down with a decisive clink and crossed the room in three strides. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, firm and warm. “Hey. Bathroom. Now.”

You blinked. “What? Nikki, I—”

“Now, Y/N.” Her voice was low, edged with something that sent heat straight down your spine. She didn’t wait for more protests, tugging you toward the narrow hallway that led to the employee bathroom.

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up, but Nikki didn’t spare her a glance. The door clicked shut behind you, and Nikki locked it with a sharp twist of the deadbolt.

The small space felt even smaller with the two of you in it. Fluorescent light hummed overhead, casting everything in a sterile glow that did nothing to hide the flush on Nikki’s cheeks or the fire in her eyes.

“What the hell was that?” you started, but she was already on you.

Nikki pushed you back against the sink counter, hands fisting in your shirt as she kissed you like she’d been starving for it. It wasn’t soft or sweet—it was claiming. Teeth nipping your bottom lip, tongue sliding in hot and demanding. You groaned into her mouth, hands automatically finding her waist, pulling her closer.

“You’re so fucking oblivious,” she muttered against your lips, biting down again. “Sarah’s been throwing herself at you all night and you just… stand there. Smiling. Like it doesn’t matter.”

You pulled back enough to meet her eyes, breathing hard. “Nikki, I didn’t— I thought she was just being friendly—”

“Friendly.” Nikki laughed, short and sharp, but there was no real humor in it. Her hand slid down your front, palming the growing bulge in your jeans with deliberate pressure. You hissed, hips jerking forward. “She wants you. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

Her fingers worked your belt open with practiced efficiency, shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough to free your cock. It sprang up heavy and aching, already leaking at the tip. Nikki’s gaze dropped to it, dark and possessive, and she wrapped her hand around the base, stroking once, slow and torturous.

“Fuck, Nikki…” Your head fell back against the mirror.

“Yeah?” She pumped you again, thumb swirling over the head to spread the precum. “This is mine. Not hers. Not anyone else’s. Say it.”

“It’s yours,” you rasped, voice wrecked already. “Only yours.”

“Good girl.”

She dropped to her knees right there on the tiled floor, no hesitation, and took you into her mouth in one smooth glide. The wet heat was overwhelming—her tongue flat against the underside, lips stretched tight around your girth. Nikki didn’t tease; she sucked you down like she needed it, hollowing her cheeks and bobbing her head with filthy determination. The sounds were obscene: wet slurps, your choked groans, the faint creak of the counter as you gripped it for dear life.

You tangled your fingers in her hair, not pushing, just holding on as she worked you deeper, throat relaxing to take more. Her eyes flicked up, locked on yours, mascara already smudging at the corners. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Shit— Nikki, your mouth…” You thrust shallowly, unable to help it. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting pleasure up your spine.

She pulled off with a gasp, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to your glistening cock. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”

Nikki stood, shoving her own jeans and panties down in one motion. She kicked them aside, then hopped up onto the counter, spreading her legs wide. She was soaked—shiny arousal coating her thighs, her pussy flushed and ready. You stepped between her legs, cock nudging against her entrance.

“Condom?” you managed, barely.

“Pill. And I don’t care. Fuck me, Y/N. Hard.”

You didn’t need telling twice. You gripped her hips and thrust in, burying yourself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. Nikki’s head snapped back, a broken moan tearing from her throat. She was tight, scorching hot, walls fluttering around every inch of you.

“God— yes,” she gasped, nails digging into your shoulders. “Move.”

You set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the bathroom walls. The counter rattled with every thrust. Nikki wrapped her legs around your waist, heels digging into your ass, pulling you deeper. Her tits bounced under her shirt with each impact; you yanked the neckline down, freeing one to suck a hard nipple into your mouth.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” she whimpered, grinding back against you. “Bigger than I imagined. Stretching me so fucking full.”

You groaned against her skin, biting down lightly as you pounded into her. The angle let you hit that spot inside her over and over, and Nikki’s moans climbed higher, less controlled. One of your hands slipped between you, thumb finding her clit and rubbing tight circles.

She came hard the first time, clenching around your cock like a vice, thighs shaking. “Y/N— oh fuck, I’m—!”

You didn’t stop, fucking her through it, chasing your own release but holding back. The sight of her falling apart—flushed cheeks, lips parted, eyes glassy—was addictive.

But Nikki wasn’t done. She pushed you back after a moment, legs unsteady as she turned around, bracing her hands on the counter and arching her back. “Again. From behind. I want to feel all of you.”

You slid back in with a groan, the new angle even deeper. One hand gripped her hip, the other fisted in her hair, tugging just enough to make her moan louder. You fucked her relentlessly—long, powerful strokes that had her pushing back to meet you, ass jiggling with every thrust.

The mirror in front of you gave the perfect view: her face contorted in pleasure, tits spilling out of her shirt, your cock disappearing between her glistening folds. You reached around to rub her clit again, and she wailed, another orgasm ripping through her.

“Please— Y/N, it’s too much— I can’t—”

“You can,” you growled, not slowing. “You’re taking me so well, Nikki. So fucking wet for me.”

She sobbed out a moan, body trembling as you drove her higher. Sweat slicked her skin. Her walls pulsed around you again and again, milking your cock, but you kept going, grinding deep on every thrust.

By the third orgasm, Nikki was a mess—legs shaking so badly you had to hold her up, voice hoarse from moaning your name. “Stop— baby, please, I can’t take any more— it feels too good, I’m gonna lose it—”

But her body betrayed her words, clenching greedily around you, another wave crashing over her. You finally let yourself go, burying yourself to the hilt and coming hard, pulsing deep inside her as she shuddered through the aftershocks.

You stayed like that for a long minute, both of you panting, your cock still twitching inside her. Nikki’s head hung forward, hair a wild tangle. You pressed soft kisses along her shoulder, gentling your hold.

“Mine,” she whispered, voice raw. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, nuzzling her neck. “All yours.”

When you finally pulled out, Nikki turned and kissed you slow and deep, tasting like satisfaction. You helped her clean up as best you could with paper towels, but there was no hiding what had happened. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and you’d left a trail of dark hickeys blooming across her neck and collarbone like a claim.

Nikki didn’t seem to mind. She pulled her clothes back on with a lazy grin, the smugness already settling in.

You looked wrecked—hair messed up from her fingers, shirt wrinkled, a few scratches on your shoulders. Your cock was still half-hard in your jeans, sensitive and spent.

Nikki unlocked the door and stepped out first, chin high, that biggest, most satisfied smirk on her face. She looked like she’d just won the lottery and fucked the prize. The group was still in the back room—Sarah’s eyes widened at the sight of her, Bear choking on his beer mid-sip.

Nikki sauntered back like nothing happened, grabbing her beer and taking a long, casual sip.

You stumbled out a few seconds later, trying and failing to look composed. Hair sticking up wildly, shirt untucked, fresh hickeys stark against your skin where your collar didn’t quite cover. Your legs felt like jelly; every step reminded you of how thoroughly she’d taken you apart and put you back together.

Sarah’s mouth opened, then closed. Ian raised an eyebrow. Bear just stared.

Nikki leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms under her chest, that smug grin widening as she caught your eye. “What? You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shot her a look—half embarrassed, half turned on again already. She winked.

The night wasn’t over, but one thing was crystal clear: Sarah could throw herself all she wanted. Nikki had made her point, loud and wet and unforgettable.

Pairing: g!p Reader x Lara Raj (KATSEYE)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, g!p reader, oral sex, fingering, penetration, light possessiveness, cheating-adjacent tension (ex-girlfriend mention), consensual but emotionally charged smut. 18+ only.

The city lights bled gold and violet through the tall windows of Lara’s apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You stood just inside the doorway, jacket still half-on, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. This was a mistake. You’d known it the second Lara had looked at you across the table at dinner—those dark, knowing eyes, the slow curve of her smile that promised things you’d tried to forget.

“You’ve been avoiding me for months,” she’d said over dessert, voice low enough that only you could hear. “But tonight you said yes.”

You had. Because Lara Raj was impossible to say no to when she turned the full force of her attention on you.

Now she was closing the door behind you with a soft click, the sound final. She wore a silk slip dress the color of midnight, thin straps sliding off one shoulder as she moved. Her hair fell in loose waves, and she smelled like vanilla and something warmer, something that made your body react before your mind could catch up.

“Lara…” Your voice came out rough. “We shouldn’t. Manon—”

“Is not here,” she finished, stepping close enough that her breasts brushed your chest. “She hasn’t been yours for a long time. And she’s not the one I want.”

Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face down to hers. She was shorter than you, but the way she looked up through her lashes made you feel pinned in place.

“I’ve wanted you since before you even looked at her,” Lara whispered. “I waited. I was good. But I’m done waiting.”

Your hands flexed at your sides. The memory of Manon’s laugh, her touch, the easy comfort you’d once shared—it all warred with the heat pooling low in your belly. Lara’s thigh pressed lightly between yours, right against the growing bulge in your pants, and you hissed.

“Fuck… Lara, I don’t want to come between you two.”

“You’re not coming between us.” Her lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing. “You’re finally coming to me.”

She kissed you then—slow at first, savoring, like she’d been dreaming of your mouth for years. Her tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for her, and the taste of her exploded across your senses: sweet wine and something uniquely Lara. Your resolve cracked. Your hands found her waist, pulling her flush against you, and she moaned softly into your mouth when she felt you, hard and insistent.

“That’s it,” she breathed, nipping your bottom lip. “Feel how much I want you?”

She took your hand and guided it under the hem of her dress. No panties. Just slick, molten heat against your fingers. You groaned, forehead dropping to hers as you stroked through her folds, circling her clit with a reverence that made her hips jerk.

“Lara… you’re soaked.”

“For you.” She rocked against your hand. “Only ever like this for you.”

The couch was closest. You didn’t make it to the bedroom. She pushed you down first, climbing into your lap, dress riding up around her thighs. Her hands worked your belt open with practiced ease, freeing your cock. It sprang up thick and heavy between you, the head already glistening. Lara’s eyes darkened with hunger.

“God, look at you,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the base. Her hand barely fit. “So big. So fucking perfect.”

She stroked you slowly, twisting at the head on every upstroke, thumb spreading the bead of precum. Your hips bucked involuntarily. You tried one last time.

“We can stop. This doesn’t have to—”

“I want it to.” She sank to her knees between your spread thighs, silk pooling around her like dark water. “I need to taste you. Need to show you how much better I am.”

Her tongue flicked out, tracing the thick vein along the underside before swirling around the head. The wet heat of her mouth made your head fall back against the couch with a guttural sound. She took you deeper, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sight of Lara Raj—elegant, untouchable Lara—on her knees with her lips stretched around your cock was almost too much.

“Fuck, baby…” Your hand threaded through her hair, not pushing, just holding.

She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight to your balls. She bobbed her head, taking more with each pass until the head nudged the back of her throat. She swallowed, and you saw stars. Saliva dripped down your shaft, over her fingers where they pumped what she couldn’t fit. The sounds were obscene—wet, filthy, perfect.

She pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to your cock. “Tell me,” she demanded, voice husky. “Tell me I taste better than her.”

You hesitated, chest heaving. Her tongue licked a long stripe from base to tip, then she sucked just the head again, tongue flicking the sensitive underside.

“Lara—”

“Say it.” She deepthroated you again, holding there until her eyes watered, then pulled back. “I want to hear it while I’m sucking your cock.”

You broke. “You taste better. Fuck— so much better. Sweeter. Hotter. God, Lara, your mouth—”

She rewarded you with a moan that vibrated through your entire length. Her free hand cupped your balls, massaging gently as she worshipped you with lips, tongue, and throat. The pressure built fast and brutal. You tried to warn her, but she only sucked harder, eyes blazing with triumph.

You came with a broken groan, hips stuttering as you spilled down her throat. She swallowed every drop, milking you through it until you were trembling and oversensitive.

When she finally pulled off, her lips were shiny, chin messy. She looked devastatingly beautiful.

She climbed back into your lap, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on her tongue. Your cock, still hard—because she did that to you—nudged against her dripping pussy. She rocked against it, coating you in her arousal.

“Bedroom,” she whispered. “I want all of you tonight.”

You carried her there, her legs wrapped around your waist, mouth never leaving yours. The sheets were cool against her heated skin as you laid her down. You stripped the slip dress off her slowly, revealing every inch of smooth, golden skin. Her breasts were perfect, nipples tight and begging. You sucked one into your mouth while your fingers plunged into her pussy—two, then three, curling against that spot that made her cry out.

“Lara… you’re so tight.”

“Been waiting for you,” she gasped, riding your hand. “Need your cock. Please.”

You couldn’t deny her. Not anymore.

You lined up and pushed in slowly, savoring the way her walls fluttered and stretched around your girth. Inch by inch until you were buried to the hilt, balls pressed against her ass. She was impossibly hot and wet, gripping you like velvet vice.

“Move,” she begged, nails digging into your shoulders.

You did. Long, deep strokes that had the headboard knocking against the wall. Her legs locked around your hips, heels digging into your back as you fucked her harder. Skin slapped against skin. Her moans grew louder, breathier, turning into whimpers of your name.

You flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so you could take her from behind. The angle let you hit deeper, grinding against her g-spot with every thrust. One hand reached around to rub her clit in tight circles.

“Say it again,” you growled, lips against her ear.

“You taste better— fuck, Lara, your pussy feels better than anything. So good, baby. So fucking good.”

She shattered with a scream, clenching around you rhythmically as her orgasm crashed through her. The sight and feel of her coming pushed you over the edge again. You buried yourself deep and filled her, pulse after pulse of thick cum until it leaked out around your cock.

You collapsed together, tangled and sweaty. Lara turned in your arms, pressing soft kisses to your chest, your throat, your jaw.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered. “No more running. You’re mine now.”

You stroked her hair, the last of your resistance gone. “Yeah… I’m yours.”

The night stretched on. She rode you slow and sensual under the moonlight, hands braced on your chest as she rolled her hips in devastating circles. You ate her out until she sobbed with overstimulation, tongue fucking into her while your thumb pressed against her clit. She came on your face twice, thighs shaking around your head, chanting your name like a prayer.

You took her against the window, city lights glittering below as you pounded into her from behind, one hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. She sucked you off in the shower, water cascading over both of you while she looked up at you with worship in her eyes.

By the time dawn crept in, the sheets were ruined and your bodies were marked with love bites and fingerprints. Lara curled into your side, sated and glowing.

“You taste better,” you murmured against her hair, echoing her earlier demand. “Everything about you is better.”

Of course no matter how much they lust off each other or after literally fucking like animals they'd always end it in a slow, romantic lovemaking that actually shows they love each other

Entwined in Shadows and Starlight

Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x g!p Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), g!p reader, obsessive possessiveness, semi-public and risky sexual acts, rough/passionate sex, primal elements, fingering, oral, penetrative sex, slight choking/breath play, cum play, multiple orgasms, aftercare, fluffy romantic lovemaking. Consensual but intensely lust-driven. No plot-heavy angst, pure indulgent romance between two adults deeply in love.

The city pulsed around you like a living heartbeat, neon lights bleeding into the humid night air as you and Megan slipped out of the back entrance of the venue. Her latest performance with KATSEYE still echoed in your veins—the way her body moved on stage, fluid and commanding, hips rolling with that effortless charisma that made thousands scream her name. But only you knew the version of her that unraveled completely under your touch.

Her hand was already in yours, fingers laced tight, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. Megan’s thumb traced circles on your wrist, a silent promise, as the crowd noise faded behind you. She glanced up, those dark eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper, hungrier.

“Baby,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough from singing. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pulled her into the shadowed alcove between two buildings, the alley barely lit by a distant streetlamp. Her back hit the cool brick wall with a soft gasp that turned into a pleased hum as your mouth claimed hers. The kiss was immediate fire—teeth nipping, tongues sliding, her hands fisting in your shirt as if she could pull you inside her soul.

Megan Skiendiel was obsession incarnate, and you were her perfect mirror. From the moment you met, it had been like this: a gravitational pull that defied reason. Public spaces be damned. Your hands roamed greedily over her waist, slipping under the hem of her cropped top to feel the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. She arched into you, a soft whine escaping as your thigh pressed between hers.

“Fuck, I need you,” she breathed against your lips, grinding down shamelessly. Her fingers tugged at your belt, impatient. “Right here. Please.”

The risk made it sharper—the distant hum of traffic, the possibility of footsteps. You dropped to your knees on the gritty pavement, not caring about the dirt, and hiked up her skirt. Her panties were already soaked; you tore them aside and buried your face between her thighs. Megan’s head fell back against the wall with a choked moan, one hand tangling in your hair as your tongue delved deep, tasting her sweetness mixed with the faint salt of her sweat from the stage.

She was vocal, always—gasping your name like a prayer, hips rolling against your mouth in desperate circles. “Yes—right there, don’t stop—oh god, you’re so good to me.” Her thighs trembled around your ears as you sucked her clit, two fingers curling inside her heat. She came hard and fast, biting her lip to muffle the cry, body shuddering as waves crashed through her.

You stood, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and she pulled you into another devouring kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. Your cock strained painfully against your pants; she palmed it eagerly, squeezing with just the right pressure.

“Your turn,” she whispered, eyes dark with lust. But before you could protest, she was sinking down, elegant even on her knees in an alley, freeing you with practiced hands. The sight of Megan Skiendiel—idol, star, your everything—looking up at you with those plush lips wrapped around your length was almost too much. She took you deep, throat relaxing, eyes watering but never breaking contact. Her tongue swirled, hollowed cheeks sucking with obscene devotion.

You groaned, hips bucking, hand gentle in her hair despite the primal urge to fuck her face raw. She hummed around you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. It didn’t take long; you spilled down her throat with a guttural sound, and she swallowed every drop, licking you clean with a satisfied little smile.

But this was only the beginning. The night was young, and your hunger for each other was endless.

Back at the hotel, the door barely clicked shut before clothes were shed in a frantic trail across the floor. Megan pushed you onto the bed, straddling your hips, her bare skin glowing under the low lamp light. She was beautiful—lithe dancer’s body, curves that fit perfectly against you, long hair cascading like ink over her shoulders.

You flipped her beneath you, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. “Mine,” you growled, nipping at her collarbone, leaving marks that would need careful covering tomorrow. She laughed breathlessly, wrapping her legs around your waist, urging you closer.

“Yours. Always.”

You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, welcoming heat. Megan cried out, nails raking down your back as you set a punishing rhythm—deep, hard strokes that had the headboard slamming against the wall. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mingled with her moans and your grunts. She clenched around you, soaking your cock, begging for more.

“Harder—fuck me like you mean it,” she demanded, and you obliged, pounding into her with animalistic need. You lifted her legs over your shoulders, folding her nearly in half, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Another orgasm ripped through her, walls fluttering wildly, pulling you deeper.

You didn’t stop. Flipping her onto all fours, you re-entered her from behind, one hand fisting her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She pushed back against you, meeting every thrust, lost in the frenzy. Sweat slicked your bodies; the air grew thick with the scent of sex. You reached around to rub her clit, and she shattered again, sobbing your name.

Only when exhaustion began to creep in did the pace shift.

You slowed, pulling out gently despite her whimper of protest. Turning her onto her back, you settled between her thighs once more, this time sliding in with aching tenderness. Megan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. The raw lust softened into something profound—love so vast it bordered on worship.

Your movements were languid now, deep rolls of your hips that let her feel every inch, every ridge. You kissed her slowly, pouring everything into it: the fear of losing her to the spotlight, the joy of her laughter in quiet mornings, the way she looked at you like you hung the moon. Her hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if memorizing you.

“I love you,” she whispered against your mouth, voice breaking with emotion. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

You thrust deeper, grinding against her clit with every stroke. “I love you more. My beautiful girl. My everything.”

Tears pricked her eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming intimacy. You made love to her like time had stopped, savoring every sigh, every flutter of her walls. Her legs wrapped around you, heels digging into your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. Orgasms came again, but gentler this time—rolling waves that left you both trembling, connected soul to soul.

You came inside her with a quiet groan, filling her with warmth as she clenched around you, milking every drop. For long minutes afterward, you stayed buried deep, trading soft kisses and whispered endearments. You pulled out only to gather her in your arms, her head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

In the afterglow, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no stages, no fans, no cameras. Just Megan—your Megan—curled against you, breathing steady, heart beating in sync with yours.

“You know we’re going to get caught one day,” she murmured sleepily, a smile in her voice.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it. I’d fuck you on the Eiffel Tower if you asked.”

She laughed, the sound pure sunlight, and nuzzled closer. “Romantic.”

“Only for you.”

The night stretched on in quiet contentment, bodies entwined, love wrapping around you both like a promise. No matter how wild the hunger, it always circled back here—to this slow, sacred joining that reminded you why you were obsessed in the first place.

Pairing: Dom!G!P Reader x Mean!Daniela Avanzini

Warnings: Explicit 18+ content, rough consensual sex, g!p (girl penis) reader, dominant reader, bratty/mean submissive Daniela, heavy degradation, impact play (face slapping), spitting, choking, hair pulling, possessiveness, dirty talk, power exchange, slight blood mention from biting,

The penthouse was quiet except for the low hum of the city far below the floor-to-ceiling windows. New York glittered like scattered diamonds, but the only thing worth looking at was Daniela Avanzini—strutting across the marble floor in nothing but a silk slip that barely reached the tops of her thighs, her dark hair cascading down her back like ink. She knew exactly what she was doing. She always did.

“You’re late,” she snapped, not even turning around as you closed the door. Her voice was sharp, laced with that signature bitchy edge that made your cock twitch in your pants. “I’ve been waiting for an hour. Do you have any idea how fucking bored I get when you’re not here to entertain me?”

You didn’t answer with words. You crossed the room in three strides, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her head back hard enough to make her gasp. Her pretty mouth fell open, those full lips parting in surprise before twisting into a defiant smirk.

“Careful, princess,” you growled low against her ear. “Keep running that mouth and I’ll give you something better to do with it.”

Daniela laughed—mean, breathy, challenging. “Big talk. You think you can handle me tonight? I’m not in the mood to be gentle.”

You spun her around and shoved her back against the cool glass window. The city lights painted her skin in neon and gold. She was beautiful like this—flushed, furious, already wet and pretending she wasn’t. Your free hand slid up her thigh, under the slip, finding her bare cunt already slick.

“No panties. Of course.” You laughed darkly. “You really are a desperate little slut underneath all that attitude.”

“Fuck you,” she hissed, but her hips rolled against your fingers anyway.

You slapped her—hard, open palm across her cheek. The sound cracked through the room. Daniela’s head snapped to the side, a bright red handprint blooming on her perfect skin. Her eyes watered, but the moan that escaped her was pure filth.

“Do it again,” she whispered, voice trembling with want.

You obliged. Another slap, harder. Her knees buckled slightly. You caught her by the throat, pinning her to the glass as you kissed her brutally, teeth clashing. When you pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected your mouths. You gathered more in your mouth and spat directly onto her tongue.

“Swallow.”

She did, eyes locked on yours the whole time, defiant even as she obeyed. “Is that all you’ve got?”

You smiled. It wasn’t kind.

In one motion you ripped the slip off her body, leaving her completely naked against the window for anyone lucky enough to have binoculars. You freed your cock—thick, heavy, already leaking—and pressed it against her stomach so she could feel exactly what she did to you.

“On your knees.”

Daniela sank down slowly, deliberately bratty, dragging her nails down your thighs. She looked up at you through her lashes, lips brushing the head of your cock. “Make me.”

You grabbed her jaw, forced her mouth open, and shoved in deep. She gagged instantly, throat convulsing around you, but she didn’t pull away. You fucked her face with short, punishing thrusts, spit dripping down her chin and onto her tits. Every time she tried to pull back for air you pushed deeper, until her nose was buried against your pelvis and her eyes were streaming.

“Good girl,” you praised mockingly. “Look at you. Mean little Daniela Avanzini choking on my cock like a cheap whore.”

You pulled out long enough for her to gasp a breath, then spat directly into her open mouth again. She moaned, swallowing greedily, and dove back onto you without prompting, sucking like she was starving.

When you couldn’t take it anymore you hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the back of the leather couch. Her ass arched perfectly. You kicked her legs wider and slapped her cunt—wet, loud, obscene. She cried out, pushing back for more.

“You’re soaked,” you taunted, sliding two fingers inside her roughly. “All that attitude and your pussy is begging to be ruined.”

“Stop talking and fuck me already,” she snarled.

You slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint, then lined up and thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Daniela screamed—half pain, half pleasure—as your thick cock stretched her open. You didn’t give her time to adjust. You fucked her like you hated her, hips snapping forward with punishing force, balls slapping against her clit.

The sound of skin on skin filled the penthouse. You reached around and rubbed her clit in tight circles while you railed her, feeling her walls flutter and clench.

“Fuck—harder,” she gasped.

You grabbed her hair again, yanking her head back so her back arched obscenely. Another slap across her face from the side. Her moan was broken and beautiful.

You pulled out suddenly, making her whine at the emptiness, and dragged her to the bedroom. You threw her onto the massive bed like a doll. She tried to crawl away, still playing the brat, but you caught her ankle and dragged her back, flipping her onto her back.

You climbed over her, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. Your cock nudged her entrance again before slamming home. This angle let you see her face—eyes rolling back, mouth open, lipstick smeared.

You fucked her deep and slow for a moment, grinding against her cervix, letting her feel every inch. Then you leaned down and spat into her mouth again. She swallowed with a whimper, tongue chasing yours when you kissed her.

“Mine,” you growled against her lips. “This cunt is mine. Say it.”

“Yours,” she breathed, voice cracking as you hit that perfect spot inside her. “Fuck—yours, please—”

You slapped her tit, then pinched her nipple hard. She came suddenly, violently, walls clamping down around your cock like a vice. You didn’t stop. You fucked her through it, chasing your own release, hips stuttering.

But you weren’t done.

You pulled out, flipped her onto all fours, and pushed back in. The new angle made her sob with overstimulation. You reached around and rubbed her clit again, relentless.

“Too much—fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” You slapped her ass repeatedly, turning it cherry red. Every thrust pushed her face into the pillows. You grabbed her throat from behind, cutting off just enough air to make her dizzy.

Another orgasm tore through her. This one made her squirt, soaking your thighs and the sheets. The wet sounds were obscene.

You kept going.

By the third orgasm she was shaking, babbling nonsense, tears streaming down her face. You leaned over her, biting her shoulder hard enough to leave marks, and finally let yourself go. You buried yourself deep and came with a guttural groan, flooding her pussy until it leaked out around your cock.

You stayed inside her for a long moment, both of you panting. Then you pulled out slowly, watching your cum drip from her ruined hole. You pushed two fingers in, scooping some up, and brought them to her mouth.

“Clean them.”

She did, sucking weakly, eyes glassy and fucked-out.

You collapsed beside her and pulled her into your chest. Daniela buried her face in your neck, still trembling. For once, she had nothing mean left to say.

The city lights continued to sparkle beyond the windows, indifferent to the way you’d just wrecked the most untouchable woman in New York.