🥁

Alright here are most of the lists I have made in one neat (read: barely organized) masterpost. I hope that makes finding whatever fic you are in the mood for a bit easier :). 

classic tropes (more or less):

friends with benefits best friends to lovers soulmate au slowburn rivals Britt hates San at the start popular!Santana / unpopular!Britt popular!Brittany / unpopular!San fake dating roommates NYC loft dynamic living together in NYC meeting in college meeting on a plane meeting years after break up G!P Brittany G!P Santana badass Brittany badass but whipped Santana affair with each other one of them thinks the other is cheating age difference famous (but just one of them) rich/poor

my favorites:

my top 20 another top 20 favorite one shots favorite shortish fics favorite humor/comedy fics fics that make me laugh fics that make me cry favorite family fics favorite happy/fluffy fics ao3 recs

family Brittana:

Brittana with kids Brittana as parents biological kids teen mom single mom to family Brittana with their siblings Brittany’s mom pov / bonding with Santana

canon compliant/specific

season 4 while broken up missing scene / canon compliant season 3 compliant angst about Santana getting outed

everything else:

christmas / thanksgiving divorce drugs evil superhero vampire werewolf demon / witch / ghost mafia prison firefighter / cop / cop 2 military chefs doctor!Santana lawyer!Santana teacher teacher/student relationship motocross wild west honeymoon surfer/beach mma / boxing first time / experimenting couple-y infront of Glee club jealousy fight pet centric country historic fics world war 2 long series switched personalities / bodies suddenly nice Santana guy!Santana 

deaf or blind mental illness Brittany severe (mental) illness Santana self-destructive / depressed Santana eating disorder suicidal (no actual suicide) Santana’s boob job Santana disowned after coming out

Harry Potter Buffy Game of Thrones

lap dance  smut / PWP bdsm

heya heya part two

⋆˚꩜｡ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐭

Summary . G!p manon , f!reader , p in v , smut, unprotected sex

A/n: idk if this is like ok, tbh but im lazy. That's why this is short. Don't tell me what to do. 🙄 anyways first time getting a request !!

Your body was aching. You couldn't take the stimulation that manon was putting on you, she was pounding into you and the vibrator was on your swollen clit.

You had lost count on how many orgasms or how many rounds since your brain was blank.

"Such a good girl for me." Manon said with fake sweetness, her hips thrusting. You were such a brat today, so whiny and distracting manon from her work.

"M-manon, oh fuck... please, im so tired..." you whined but your moans were so loud. Your back arched again in response.

"No, you don't get to say that. You were such a bad girl for me. I was in a meeting call, and you decided it was a good idea to suck me off under my desk. Do you think you were a good girl today?" Manon said, her voice firm and strict.

You were holding the vibrator, the highest setting. You held it loosely, and you shook your head. "No, im sorry, baby. I know i was a bad girl..."

Manon smirked at you, shaking, being overwhelmed by the punishment she was giving you. "Yeah, you were, and you should be sorry."

Manon took your hand and pressed the vibrator on your clit again, she tightened your grip on it. "I don't wanna see your fucking hand slip again, you hear me?"

You nodded helplessly, and you used all your strength to keep it. Your ass was bruised from the spanking manon gave you earlier.

Your eyes watered with tears, and manon leaned down to kiss them away for you.

"Don't cry, baby. I know it's a lot, but you can take it... you can take it, right?" Manon said with fake pity.

You nodded, but manon slapped your face, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get you into your senses.

"Say it, bitch." Manon said with a frown and her grip on your hips tightend. Her hips moving faster.

"I can take it! I-i can take it!" You whined, your voice cracking.

Manon slapped one of your breasts, "shut up, you wanna let our neighbours know how much of a slut you are for me?"

"Im gonna come inside you." She wasn't asking. She was telling you. Her hips moved faster against you, and she held the vibrator in place for you cause your hands were giving up.

You nodded. "I'm gonna put a baby inside this pretty pussy, you hear me, pretty girl?" Manon whispered, her voice was ragged and she was running out of breathe.

Manon threw her head back, her hips stuttering, and she let out a loud groan.

She came inside you, painting your inner walls white with a warm coat, filling you whole. Manon groaned, your back arched, and you let out a loud, whiny moan.

Manon stayed buried inside of you for a while, her member softening inside of your warmth.

Manon carefully pulled out, and you moaned at the sudden emptiness, her come dripping out from inside of you.

Manon laid beside you and spooned you, "You good, my love?" She said, kissing the back of your head before nuzzling into your hair, smelling the scent of your shampoo.

You nodded your head slowly, "I'm okay, manz." Your voice weak. "Did i go too hard?" She said, her voice with worry. Her grip tightened a little around your waist.

You shook your head, "no, im okay..."

Manon nodded still cautious, "let's rest for a bit and then we get you cleaned up, okay?"

You sighed and agreed with her. Both of you still coming down from your high.

"I hope you're actually pregnant."

"Shut up."

"Fine... I love you."

"I love you too, manz."

──── ( ⛔ ) after an unforgettable concert places you directly in the path of two of the biggest bands in the world, your life is thrown into chaos when the members of katseye and le sserafim become impossibly interested in the mysterious fan they can’t stop thinking about. what begins as a few lingering glances from the stage quickly spirals into backstage invitations, relentless attention, and an unspoken rivalry between nine fiercely competitive musicians, each determined to be the one who captures your time, your trust, and your attention. caught between explosive personalities, growing tensions, and the overwhelming reality of being wanted by everyone in the room, you're forced to navigate a whirlwind of fame, friendship, jealousy, and unforgettable moments—while the battle that started with music slowly becomes a battle for you.

𝓟aring. ot5 katseye x switch!groupie!fem reader x ot4!le sserafim.

𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. abuse of power, alcohol, anal, bitting, blowjob, body worship, clit play, corruption, cunnilingus, deep throat, degration, dirty talk, double penetration, dumbification, face fucking, face sitting, fingering, forced orgasm, gropping, hair pulling, humiliation, nipple play, masturbation, multiple orgasms, pet names, praise, scissoring, strap usage, squirting, titsucking, voyeurism.

𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 16,1k.

.𝓐 uthor’s 𝓝ote. writing this before going to sleep, so please excuse any spelling or typographical errors.

𝓜asterlist.

↬ Fill it.

-> pair ; dom!daniela avanzini x g!p!reader

-> synopsis ; you always came faster than her, so she took advantage of that.

-> tags ; multiple orgasms. overstimulation. penetration

>> series - minor dni - katseye ot6 - g!p reader - smut - fluff - yoonchae is here for fluff not smut - haunted themed - sexual content - multiple kinks - threesome - etc

[ 緒 ]

After your grandparents passed, your parents dumped their old, rotting manor on you with zero help. “You’re broke, so deal with it,” they said. Reluctantly, you move into the isolated, creepy estate alone, expecting dust, leaks, and maybe some rats.

What you don’t expect are the six girls who have been haunting the manor for decades.

⇢ one.

⇢ two.

⇢ three.

⇢ four.

⇢ five.

⋮

Puppy coded megan , breeding kink , lactation kink? , nsfw — mdni , g!p & subby!megan , I think that's it chat

𝜗𝜚 She has the slightest bit of a breeding kink. It just when she's wrapped in the warmth of your cunt, she can't help but imagine pulling out just a bit to late. The image of you pumped full of her cum, almost leaking. Or how pretty you would look with milk leaking from your nipples.

“you’re s'perfect,” she gasps between thrusts, voice almost breaking. “so full for me— wanna keep you like this…”

𝜗𝜚 She loves to watch you ride her, or even just grind against her bulge. Her game will be long forgotten on her monitor, you're sat in her lap, panty cladded core against hers.

𝜗𝜚 Speaking of riding, on most occasions she'll have your tit stuffed in her mouth. Moving her tongue around the hardened bud.

𝜗𝜚 Megan tends to have you cockwarm her after. She'll nuzzle into the curve of your neck, still semi-hard, murmuring incoherent rambles into your skin.

“jus' a little longer… please.”

—𝜗𝜚—

g!p nerd megan x fem!reader

summary. just megan being a silly sub nerdy

content. g!p megan, oral sex, smut, suggestive content, dirty talk

saeza notes: soooo heyyy guys!! 😋😋😋

The teacher had assigned you two as partners for the human body project.

You needed a good grade. Everyone knew it. You'd been on the verge of failing all semester, showing up late, turning in half-finished assignments. Megan, on the other hand, was the best in the class. The nerd.

That's why she paired you with Megan. It was her last hope that you'd pass.

Megan had insisted on doing the project in the library. But you had won, and she ended up agreeing to do it at your house.

Now she was here.

In your room.

The biology books were open on the desk, but neither of you was looking at them. The notes were scattered across the bed, loose pages with diagrams of the reproductive system that she had drawn the night before in perfect handwriting. The afternoon sun streamed through the window.

Megan was sitting on the edge of your bed.

Her pants were around her ankles. Her shirt, too big for her, reached halfway down her thighs, and her hands were resting on the mattress on either side of her body, trying to hold onto something.

You were on your knees between her legs.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Megan asked, almost in a whisper, as if forming words cost her effort. Her black-framed glasses had fogged up slightly, and her fingers gripped the mattress as if it were her only anchor to the world.

"Yes, nerd," you replied, and your smile was as sharp as your tone. "Don't you want an A?"

Megan swallowed. She nodded.

Her hands gripped the mattress. Her knuckles were white.

Your fingers found the edge of her boxers and you pulled them down slowly. First the fabric slid over her hips, then over her thighs, and then they were also around her ankles, next to her pants.

You stayed there, staring.

You hadn't expected that.

Megan was small. Thin. With that fragility of nerds who spend more time reading than eating. The glasses. But her cock — God, her cock — was anything but small. It was thick. Very thick. The base was wide and tapered only slightly toward the tip, which was already pink and slightly wet. The length was respectable, more than you would have imagined.

"Oh," you said, and you couldn't hide your surprise.

"What?" Megan asked, nervous. Her legs closed slightly, but your knees kept them open. "What's wrong? Is it bad?"

"It's not bad," you interrupted, and your hand went up to wrap around the base. The thickness filled your palm, and Megan moaned, a small, stifled sound that cut through the silence of the room. A sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it did you. "Not at all. Trust me."

"Oh," Megan said, and her cheeks turned red. "And is that… is that good?"

"It's very good."

You leaned in.

Your tongue touched the tip, barely a brush, and the moan Megan let out was sharper. Her back arched slightly, and her hands pulled at the mattress.

"That…" she started to say, but fell silent, as if she didn't have words for what she had just felt.

"That what?" you asked, your lips pressed against her skin. "Tell me. For the project."

"I don't know," Megan admitted, and her eyes were very wide behind her glasses. "It feels… weird. Like a tingle. But not on the skin. Inside…"

"Inside where?"

"My stomach," she said, and brought a hand to her belly. "Like I have something hot down there. I don't know how to explain it."

"Well, you're going to have to learn," you replied. "You're going to have to tell me everything you feel so we can put it in the project later. Okay? The teacher wants details. Sensations. Things that aren't in the books."

"It's not in the books?" Megan asked, confused. "I've read all the required ones and it's not—"

She couldn't finish the sentence because you had already opened your mouth and taken it inside.

Your tongue pressed against the underside while your head moved forward, and you could feel it widen, feel it fill every empty space in your mouth. The tip brushed the back of your throat and you had to stop. You swallowed. You breathed through your nose. And you kept going.

"Oh, God," Megan moaned, and her back arched more. Her hands let go of the mattress and found your head, but they didn't push. They just stayed there, trembling, her fingers tangled in your hair. "Y/n… that… that thing you just did…"

"What did I do?" you asked, pulling back just enough to let your warm breath brush her wet skin. Your hand kept moving where your mouth couldn't reach, up and down the shaft.

"You put… all of it… all the way in," Megan said, her words coming out choppy, breathless. "And I felt… I don't know… very tight…"

"Did you like it?"

"Yes," she whispered, and seemed surprised by her own answer. "Yes, I think so."

"Then I'm going to do it again."

You took it all the way in again. This time you didn't stop at your throat. You forced a little more, and you felt the tip pass that narrow point, felt your throat open to receive it. Tears welled in your eyes from the reflex, and a wet sound escaped your full mouth.

Megan moaned.

"And now?" you asked, pulling back to breathe. A strand of saliva connected your lower lip to the tip of her cock.

"Now…" Megan blinked, as if trying to focus on reality. "Now the tingle in my stomach has moved down. It's lower. In my… in my pelvis. Like something is… building up."

"Building up?"

"Yes. Like when you have to pee, but it's not pee. It's something else. More… more intense."

You smiled. And you went down again.

This time you were faster. Your head moved up and down with a steady rhythm, your hand complementing where your mouth couldn't reach, your tongue pressing against the main vein on every upstroke. Megan moaned uncontrollably, small, sharp sounds escaping her parted lips.

"Y/n," she moaned, and her voice was a plea, even though she didn't know what she was asking for. "Y/n, something's happening. That tingle… it's growing."

"Just feel it," you said, pulling back just enough, and your hand sped up to compensate. "It's normal. It's what's supposed to happen. Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she answered instantly, and her hips pushed forward on their own, as if her body knew what it wanted even if her mind didn't. "I don't want you to stop, please."

"That's what I wanted to hear, good nerd," you said, while your hand kept moving, fast, firm.

"So intense." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to…"

"Yes, you can," you encouraged her, and you sped up more. Your hand was moving up and down at full speed now, and the tip of her cock was swollen, purple, dripping. "Just let go. Don't think. Just feel."

"It's very close," Megan moaned, and her fingers tangled in your hair tighter. "Y/n, it's very close. The tingle… it's going to explode… it's going to…"

"Let it," you said. "Explode."

Then her back arched, her head fell back, her glasses flew through the air and landed on the carpet. And her entire body tensed.

The first spurt hit your hand, hot, thick. The second landed on her own stomach. The third and fourth were weaker, dripping onto her trembling thighs. And then it was over.

Megan was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes were open but unseeing, staring at the ceiling unfocused. Her mouth was open, and small gasps, small sighs, escaped from it.

Megan blinked. She sat up on her elbows. Her glasses were on the floor. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Can I…" she started to say, and hesitated. "Can I write down what I felt? For the project."

You smiled. You picked up the notebook from the floor and handed it to her.

"Sure," you said. "That's what we're here for, right? For the project."

Megan took the notebook with trembling hands. She clicked the pen open with still-trembling fingers. And she started to write.

You just smiled.

SYNOPSIS ::: It’s been a year since you and Daniela have been married, you guys go on a holiday to take a break off of work. She see’s a toddler with her parents and can’t stop thinking of wanting to have her own family with you. mast.

PARING :: Daniela . Avanzini x G!P reader ( wife )

WARNING :: smut with plot, slight fingering, cream pie, handjob, blowjob, pet names, dirty talk, horny!daniela, cum eating?, swearing, switch in language, switch! Daniela.

wc :: 2.07k

Everyone applause as you and daniela raised your hands together; she was crying while you were trying not to cry. It’s a warm sensation that spreads throughout your body as your hands start to get clammy.

You were finally married: after 4 years of late night texting, stressful work nights, mornings apart where you both had to talk over FaceTime and promises made with one other.

You guys went through nearly every single hardship that a couple could endure together before marriage.

It felt good to be married to your lover.

And you probably thought that Daniela would have the same veiw as you, as though you guys are married to each other.

As the evening continued, you found yourself wondering towards the balcony. You leaned over the railing looking off towards the setting sum, taking a deep breath of fresh air you turned around as you heard the door opening.

“Smoking again?” Daniela looked towards your hands, you shook your head.

“Told you’ I’ll quit on our wedding day.. see?” You showed here your hands, she scoffed.

“Fine, I guess so… anyways i only came out here because my parents aka your in law’s wants to talk to us..” she gently walked over to you fixing your tie.

“For what?” Your head tilted to side, “is it anything about the venue we have? Or is it the—”

She placed her manicured finger on your lips, “shhh you worry to much about everything love.. stop worrying too much, i’m sure it’s not bad love..”

You nodded as she pulled you closer, “c’mom lets go in..”

She took your hand and led you inside the venue, she bought you over to your in-laws. Mr. Avanzini and Mrs. Avanzini were chatting with some guests when you guys come around.

“There’s my daughter in law.” He shook your hand firmly, “come, i wanna speak to you. One on one.” He walked away, you followed.

You guys ended up walking out to the arch full of flowers that you let Daniela design herself, it was beautiful tulips and roses.

“So, how does it feel to be a married woman..?” Mr. Avanzini asked raising an eyebrow at him.

You rubbed the back of your neck, “it’s amazing, i mean you’re daughter is—”

“Amazing. Of course she is.” He cut in, making your smile pause. He pulled his hand out of his pocket looking at his Rolex.

“I um..” you tried to strike up a conversation again.

He cut you off again, “Lets cut to the point yn.”

Oh this was serious.

He sighed, “you’re a good kid, and I know you love my daughter...”

He held out his hand and you took it, “welcome to the Avanzini family, yn.”

It’s been 1 year since you were welcomed to the family.

Daniela was lying down across the couch as you picked out your summer trunks. You wanted to swim in the pool as it was gonna be a hot night so you and Daniela agreed to swim together.

she pulled on a cream coloured and shiny gold two piece swim suit. She looked HOTTT, you literally froze as she appeared in front of you.

“So how do I look..?” She done a twirl for you, giggling. “I loved this set, I saw it and thought it’ll look good on me..”

Your jaw dropped, “..you.. i.. it’s..”

“Stunning?” She asked raising an eyebrow, you nodded.

“Good, let’s go yn.” She dragged you to the pool in which had a few people in it.

Daniela soaked in the pool side while watching you canobal into the pool. When she saw a little toddler playing in the shallow part of the pool with their parents.

Her heart longed as she watched the toddler giggle and laugh and have the time of their little lives.

Later on, in the room you guys booked you were drying off from the shower. You caught Daniela staring into space, “you okay love? You’ve been staring out of space for like 3 minutes straight..”

“I..” she couldn’t speak properly, “..I think I want a baby yn..”

You paused, “right now?”

She nodded getting up and walking over to you, “Mhmm..right now”

“I mean are you sure you won’t regret it..?” Your hands found her waist, she nodded once more.. “I wanna see a mini version of us running around our house back home, yn..”

You gulped, “are you sure? I mean raising a child takes time an—” she kissed your lips, looking up into your eyes.. “please wifey.. i wanna carry your babies..”

Your face became even more flushed, “I mean we could possibly tr—”

She kissed you again shutting you up completely, you felt a bit hazy as her hands reached your growing bulge in your boxers.

“Oh gosh you this..hard for me..?” You nodded,

“Good girl.”

She kneeled down and pulled your underwear down till your cock sprung free, it had veins going along it. You sighed as she wrapped her hands around it, slowly pumping your shaft as your sticky pre-cum leaked out from your pink tip.

“Gosh I forgot you were huge love..” biting her bottom lip, “It’s like every time you get bigger and bigger love..” she looked directly into your eyes groaning as she continued to pump.

“Hmm” she opened her mouth and wrapped it around her tip, your hands flew to your mouth to try to cover your moans while the other to daniela’s hair.

“m’fuck.. love, where’d you get so…good at … this..?” You guided her head up and down your pole as she gently took it deeper in her mouth. Which caused her to gag, teared up and drool all over the place.

You watched as she stared into your soul as she took majority of it into her mouth and down her throat.

She pulled back, the warmth of her mouth left your cock. She stood up and pulled you in by your shirt kissing you, causing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

She pushed you onto the bed, causing you to lay down but you sat against the headboard instead. She climbed onto your lap, and held your face stating: “we’re not gonna stop till we’re sure I can get pregnant… yes?”

You nodded, too mesmerised by your wife’s looks as you willingly agreed to technically drain your soul out, just to give her this baby that she’s been dreaming about.

“okay, you can tap out after the first round..” she caressed the bottom of your lips, “just tell me if it’s too much love.. okay?” with a simple nod from you, she reached behind her and alighted yourself with her hole as she sunk her weight down onto it, which earned a moan from the both of you.

You’re mouth was slightly open, as you gently held her waist as she started to ride you. You always knew you were kinda a simp for your wife ( overall ), but with her doing this while looking in your eyes and whimpering your name took your all just for you not to bust a nut so early in her.

You watched as she clutched onto the front of your shirt, ‘gosh she actually my wife’ was all you could think of as she continued, but she was getting tired — you could tell by her thighs ever so slightly quiver against your lap.

“princess, wanna…m’switch positions..?” You asked beteween moans, she nodded and you laid her down onto her back and realigned yourself back into her.

Pushing in, you held her hand throughout the process, she was clinging to you in this special moment. Her face was pleased, while you thrusted in and out of her.

You felt her clentch around you, “Oh Dios, estoy cerca” you had no clue what she fully said but you gathered the idea of one or two words.

“Hmm yeah you like that? You want me to give you my m’kids?” You nodded causing her to nod in sync with you, “yea?”

“m’yeah..” she managed to get out and she moaned, “m’cummin’.. yn..”

You sped up, becoming a bit sloppy as you were on the edge too. “Cum with me.. m’fuck..”, she clenched and convolsed as her body then went a little limp.

You released spilling into her, she clenched hardly, milking you completely. Your hands rested on each side of your wife on the bed.

As you leaned in to kiss her cheek, she just start to giggle. You chuckled, “what’s so funny love..?”

She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around your neck, “nothin..”

She kissed you, you kissed back. It started to get more heated and intense, your tongue touched the inside of her mouth as she moaned back into your mouth.

She could feel your shaft starting to get hard again, she pulled back, “already hard again from kissing me.. huh..?”

Chuckling you responded, “I’m just making sure you get that baby your dreaming of..” your hands found her perky breasts.

She gasped but ended up letting out a breathless chuckle. “okay, okay..”

You just shrugged your shoulders, pulling out you gently flipped her onto her front, you crouched down to her leaking heat, “gosh, love — your literally soaking down here baby..”

She blushed and put her face down into to bedsheets, “don’t yn..” you touched her glistening hole as you and her mixed cum leaked onto the bedsheets.

“..hmm i think you can take another round, yeah..?” Your head tilted as your hand slowly rubbed circles on her swollen nub.

“Oh Dios, eso es sensible” she muttered to you, her head turning towards you.

“oh yea? Lemme just see how you taste love..”, you stuck two fingers into her hole, pumping it once and then twice before pulling it out again and tasting her, “hmm you taste like sugar on my tongue baby..”

You stopped your actions causing her to whimper as you touch still lingered on her clit, instead you grabbed your cock and rubbed the tip along her folds.

“Hmm you want it baby?”

she nodded, whining at your touch.

“tell me how bad you want it..” you teased her hole.

she clenched the bedsheets, “…Por favor mami, realmente lo quiero mucho... mucho..”

You were painfully aching, you really never actually knew what she said in Spanish.. but every time she spoke Spanish you just folded — it had a bad effect on you.

“Fuck.. yea okay”, You adjusted your guy’s position, your hand wrapping around her waist, her back pressed firmly against your front, as you pushed into her hole. You groaned, she was literally dripping.

You thrusted into her, over and over again. The wet and skin slapping noise echoed across the room, your hands dug into her side as the other reached between her thighs to her slick heat.

You rubbed and rubbed in circles earning another moan form her, you continued to kiss her neck, her eyebrows were knitted together as she her hands grasped your arm.

“Oh.. oh my gosh..” her jaw tightened, “mhmggg..”

You continued your movements as you got rougher and rougher, your thrusts got harder and harder and your words got dirtier and dirtier.

“is that dick good..?”

“yes mami..”

“how good is that dick?”

“ah so m’fucking good…” her legs started to quiver.

“i’m gonna cum in this little pink pussy of yours, fuck” you continued your actions, “you want me to cum in this pussy?” she nodded as you leaned back causing her head to lean back on your shoulder..

“yeah..?”

she nodded once more, “oh mami, joder… Dios mío, sí, sí, ahí mismo..” she repeated over and over again.

“… f-..fuck, cumming..” you subconsciously thrusted into her again and again, dumping a second load of cum into her tight hole.

Daniela went lip in your hold as she came all over your cock as she was able to push your shaft out, she bit on her bottom lip.

You watched the cum dripping out of her, you gently pushed some back in.

“.. my work here is done my love..”

summarry. you told megan a million times that it was just casual. But the moment you see some girl flirting with YOUR nerd, you can't help but get insanely jealous. So... was it really casual?

content. g!p megan, p in v, overstimulation, orgasms, humiliation, dirty talk

Megan knew she shouldn't keep doing this.

You had made it clear from the start: for you, it was just "casual." Or at least, that's what you told her every time she looked at you with those puppy eyes while you picked up your clothes from the floor after hours of fucking.

And Megan would nod. She always did. Because even though it hurt to only have you for two hours on weekends, she liked you too much to prefer nothing at all.

She was the class brainiac. Always sitting in the front row, always with the highest grade in the room. The pink bow messily placed, her glasses crooked, her notes full of highlighters. You, on the other hand, were the most popular girl in the entire school: no guy would ever reject you, and everyone wanted to be your friend.

Two worlds too different to ever fit together, right?

So you always acted like Megan didn't exist. You'd walk past her without looking, flirt with guys left and right, kiss them in front of the whole school. Even if the only person who actually made your world spin was her. Even if that same night you'd end up bouncing on her cock like your life depended on it.

That didn't matter. During the day, she didn't exist to you.

Or at least, not until that day.

You were walking out of Literature class with your friends, striding through the hallways like you owned the school, talking about some stupid thing you didn't actually care about. The hallway was completely packed, but your eyes still found a way to see her.

And it wasn't a pretty sight.

Megan was leaning against the lockers. Her glasses a little crooked, as always. The messy bow letting pink strands of hair fall over her face. And there was someone pressed up against her. A girl. Blonde. Her hand on Megan's shoulder and her head tilted at that angle people only use when they're flirting.

Megan's face was completely red. Her hands were trembling as she clutched her books and tried to step back, almost as if she wanted to melt through the wall and escape.

She looked pathetic.

But she was your pathetic. Not hers.

Your fingers squeezed the notebook in your hand until the edge dug into your palm. You didn't know who that girl was. You didn't care. But the way Megan was smiling back at her… that awkward, nervous smile you knew so well because she only ever used it for you.

"Y/n? You okay?" your friend asked when you stopped dead. But you weren't listening anymore. Your legs moved on their own. You crossed the hallway with firm steps, pushing past bodies without asking permission, until you were right in front of them.

"Megan."

She looked up. Her eyes widened behind her glasses.

"Y/n, hey, this is—"

"You're coming with me." It wasn't a request. It was an order. You grabbed her wrist with the same force you'd used on your notebook and dragged her down the hallway without looking back.

"But I have class… Y/n? What are you—" she stammered, trying to keep up with your pace. You didn't answer. You opened the door to an empty classroom, pushed her inside, and locked the door before she could ask anything else.

"What the fuck was that?" you spat, letting go of her wrist as if it burned.

"What are you talking about?" Megan rubbed her arm, confused, her big eyes behind her fogged-up glasses. "She was just a Bio partner. She was asking for my notes…"

"A Bio partner?" You laughed, but there was nothing funny in your voice. "A Bio partner presses herself against you like that?"

"Y/n…"

"Do you like her?" You interrupted, stepping closer until her legs hit a chair, forcing her to sit down. "Do you like that girl?"

"No, I—"

"I don't give a shit." You brought your hand to her chin, tilting it up with two fingers, forcing her to look up at you from below. "You know why? Because you're mine."

Megan blinked.

"But you always say this is casual… that we're not—"

"I don't care what I said." You cut her off, and your hand moved down to her neck, fingers wrapping around her throat, squeezing just enough so she knew who was in charge. "Now shut up and don't make me repeat it."

The kiss was rough. Hard. There was no tenderness in it, only possession. Your tongue invaded her mouth without permission, and when Megan whimpered —because even though you scared her, she also wanted you with a sick kind of desperation— you felt her tremble against you.

Without waiting too long, you moved your hands down to her pants. You unbuttoned them in one motion, pulling the fabric down along with her boxers, letting them bunch around her ankles. The cloth made a dull sound against the concrete floor. Megan didn't move. She didn't dare.

"You're already so hard…" You lowered your hand to her cock, and a moan escaped her before she could bite it down. It was pink, veiny, the tip completely red with need, a drop of liquid glistening at the small slit. It felt heavy in your hand. "And I only talked a little rough to you."

You ran your thumb over the tip, gathering that drop, spreading it over the whole head. Megan moaned again, her legs trembling, thighs pressing together involuntarily, her hands gripping the edge of the chair like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"You're so dirty." You spat the words with contempt, and you felt her cock twitch in your hand. Megan moaned. Again. And it was that moan, that broken, ashamed sound only you could pull out of her, that lit something darker inside you.

"You see?" you whispered near her ear, your warm breath trailing down her neck, while your hand started moving slowly, too slowly, like you knew exactly how to torture her. "Your body knows what it wants. You're just mine."

You pulled your hand away for a moment. The classroom was silent, only Megan's ragged breathing filling the space. You tilted your head and spat directly onto the tip of her cock. The liquid dripped down her length, sliding slowly along the sides, and Megan let out a sob, her eyes glassy behind her crooked glasses, a tear forming but not falling.

"Please…" she murmured, though neither of her knew if she was asking you to stop or to keep going. Her voice broken, in pieces.

"Please what?" you mocked, but you decided she'd suffered enough. Your own thighs were pressing together, a wet heat between your legs you couldn't ignore anymore.

You pulled your own pants down just enough and, without any warning, you sat down on her cock. Letting your body weight do the work, feeling the head of her cock push past your lips, force its way in, sink into your wet heat like something that had always been meant to be there.

Megan's cry was muffled. Her back arched against the chair, her hips thrusting upward, as if her body were searching for more, deeper, even though there was no more room left. Her hands instinctively went to your hips, but you slapped them away.

"Don't touch me," you ordered, and your voice came out lower than usual, heavy with the feeling of having her so deep inside and the jealousy still fresh. "Don't you dare touch me after being with that bitch."

Megan wanted to protest, but seeing how authoritative your voice was, she chose to obey and left her hands at her sides. Her fingers gripping the wood of the chair, her knuckles white.

And you started to move.

The rhythm was slow at first, almost cruel. You'd let almost her entire cock slide out of you and then drop back down, letting yourself sink, feeling her fill you over and over. Each downward motion was a small suffocation of pleasure, moans escaping you.

When Megan's cock hit that spot, you started riding her wildly. There was no rhythm anymore. No patience. You didn't even care about punishing Megan anymore. Now you were just completely drunk on her cock.

"What about that blonde?" you asked, and your hand moved up to her cheek. The skin hot under your fingers, damp with a tear. Without any warning, you slapped her, gently but firmly. Megan's eyes flew open in surprise. Her cheek burned and was red beneath your hand, but she couldn't help getting more turned on. You saw it in how her cock twitched inside you. "Is she going to press herself against you again?"

"No," Megan cried, and now the tear fell, rolling down her hot cheek until it disappeared along her jaw. "No, no, no…"

"Why?"

"Because… because I'm yours…" The words came out broken, between sobs and moans, like saying them cost her everything.

"That's my good girl." With a smile of complete satisfaction on your face, you brought your lips to her sore cheek. A contrast so sweet after that hot slap.

You moved both hands from her shoulders to her neck, fingers wrapping around her throat again, squeezing just enough to let her know you were in control. Not to hurt her. Just to remind her who was in charge here.

"You fill me so well, puppy." Your voice was a hoarse whisper, intimate, just for her. "Can you see it?"

Megan lowered her head slightly, bringing her eyes to the bulge forming in your lower belly every time you went down. The subtle stretching of your skin. She couldn't help letting out a desperate moan as she felt her cock twitch even more.

"I—I can't…" Megan said in a whisper, trying to speak between so many moans, her voice cut off every time you dropped down on her, every time you squeezed her from the inside.

"Yes you can. Come on, be a good girl for me." You tightened your grip on her neck “a little more, just a little”, feeling her swallow, "Come on, Megan, I'm so close… please."

"I—I can't… cum without permission…"

Hearing those words, you swore your pussy got three times wetter. A liquid heat ran through your entire inside, soaking Megan, dripping down her thighs. She was so obedient.

Megan was a complete mess: her bow now had strands of hair sticking out, her glasses fogged up from the heat of the moment, and her face completely twisted with pleasure.

And in that moment, you realized you didn't want anyone else to see her like that except you. And that you didn't want —or believe— that anyone else could make you feel like this. It was her. It had always been her.

Your thrusts became completely frantic —your hips going up and down without control, the wet, fast sound filling the empty classroom—, same as both of your moans. You'd swear anyone walking past the hallway could hear Megan's whines and the sound of skin against skin. But it didn't matter. Not now that your orgasms were so close.

"Please, let me come…" Megan could barely articulate anymore, the words coming out stuck together, one on top of another. "I'm so sorry for letting that girl get close to me… I swear never again… please, I need it so much…" It was almost pitiful. So desperate to reach orgasm, but so obedient at the same time. Waiting just for you.

And how could you deny her?

"Come with me, mei." You rested your forehead against hers, her glasses pressing into your skin. "Fill me up. Fill me with your cum, please."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Megan reached her orgasm with a broken moan, her whole body shaking against the chair, her legs spreading wider. Her hot liquid painted your walls completely. She had come so much it even overflowed outside, dripping down her thighs.

But she kept penetrating you —even though every thrust hurt her— overstimulating herself, moving her hips upward as if her life depended on you finishing too.

You had to bite her shoulder to hold back your moan. Your teeth pressing through the fabric of her uniform. You came around her, squeezing her tight, feeling your fluids mix inside you.

You didn't know if it was the jealousy from earlier or the risk of getting caught, but you could swear it was the best orgasm of your life.

You both needed a few minutes to calm down. You rested your head on Megan's bruised shoulder and tried to slow your breathing. Your chest against hers, rising and falling in disarray, slowly syncing up.

"Sorry…" Megan finally said, looking at the mess on her thighs and the floor. "I didn't mean to come so much… but it felt so good…"

Only then did you lift your head to look at her face and smiled. You brought your hand gently to her cheek. The skin hot under your fingers. A soft caress, so different from everything that had happened minutes before.

"It's okay, baby. It felt so good."

With those simple words, you could feel Megan's cock twitch again inside you. Your body was still wrapped around her, and you felt it stiffen again, start to harden.

"Wow, wow, okay, puppy. I'm tired now," you laughed, but you didn't move. You didn't want to move yet.

Megan felt the heat rise up her neck and reach her forehead, covering her completely in red. Shame and desire mixed into one blush.

"I couldn't help it… a-and I…" she said, and shyly hid her face in your neck, embarrassed. You brought your hand to her nape, softly stroking her scalp. Your fingers tangling in the pink strands, undoing the knots, fixing the mess you had caused yourself.

"Mei…"

Your voice sounded a bit more serious now. The atmosphere became even more intimate, as if the classroom walls had closed in a little more. She just let out an "mhm," distracted, too comfortable in your neck, getting drunk on your perfume.

"I'm sorry I said it was casual." The words left your mouth before you could even think them, as if they'd been waiting there all this time. "I didn't mean it. I really like you, and… and I know we're very different, but I think we could make this work. You know?"

The silence lasted an eternal second. Hearing that, Megan lifted her head suddenly. Excited. Her eyes wide, bright. You could almost see her with ears perked up like a dog being called for dinner.

"Do you mean it?"

"Yeah, of course. Only if you want to, and if not, that's totally fine, but—"

Megan couldn't help but laugh a little. She was so used to seeing you always so confident and decisive that watching you stumble over your own words was kind of endearing.

"I've been waiting for you to say that for months."

And without another word, she brought her lips to yours. It wasn't a kiss of desire and desperation anymore. It was something more intimate, sweeter. Her lips moving slowly against yours. Saying everything they couldn't put into words but that ultimately had the same result: that they loved each other.

"Sorry for being an idiot," you whispered against her mouth, the words mixing with her breath.

"Yeah, but you owe me something."

"What?" you asked, slightly confused, pulling back just enough to see her face.

"A pack of Pokémon cards."

Your smile widened even more. You obviously hadn't expected that answer, but of course she'd say something like that. After all, that was what you loved about her: that she was a total nerd.

"Deal."

summarry. After the jealousy incident, you decide to stop hiding Megan. And make it official

content. g!p megan, just fluff, maybe some suggestive jokes

part 1

The light comes in through the gap in the poorly closed curtain and hits you directly on the eyelids, making you blink a couple of times and realize where you are: the white ceiling, the band posters covering the walls, the pile of messy clothes in the corner. On the desk, a big computer.

Megan's room. There's no way to confuse it with any other.

The next thing you register is the weight. There's a weight on your side, your waist, your chest. You look down and discover that Megan has settled onto your body as if it were her property. Her right arm is draped over your waist, her hand open against your hip as if she's afraid you'll slide out of bed. Her left arm is trapped between your back and the mattress. Her face is buried in the curve of your neck, her nose pressed against your collarbone. Literally, there isn't a single centimeter of space between you two. The Spider-Man sheets cover you both up to the waist.

You try to move even a centimeter and she immediately whines, a small, complaining sound, and tightens her grip as if you're about to escape. Her leg hooks more firmly between yours. Her hand on your hip squeezes her fingers.

"Megan," you murmur, and even though you intend for it to sound like a complaint, your voice comes out soft, defeated by tenderness. "You're like a tick."

She doesn't fully wake up, but something in her brain must register your voice because she frowns, scrunches her nose, and clings even more. Now her forehead is resting against your jaw, and her free hand has found the hem of your shirt.

"Megan," you repeat, louder. "It's seven. We have to go to school."

"No," she answers. Her voice comes out raspy, guttural, and she doesn't even open her eyes. She buries her face deeper into your neck and lets out an unintelligible "mmph."

"We have class."

"I don't care."

"But today we have advanced calculus first period."

That does wake her up. She opens her eyes suddenly, pulls back just enough to look at you. In three seconds, she goes from being half-asleep to completely lucid and excited.

"Why didn't you tell me before?!"

"Such a nerd you are, god."

She lets out a dramatic whine, but instead of letting you go like any normal person, she buries her face in your shoulder. Literally, she cannot be separated from you. The hand that was on your shirt moves up to your neck and starts stroking your hair without any rush, moving her fingers with a slowness that seems deliberate. Her leg is still tangled with yours.

"I don't like you," she murmurs against your shoulder.

"Sure you don't."

You spend a while like that, in silence. Every time you make the slightest move to pull away, she pulls you back with force. At one point, you try to sit up, and she literally climbs on top of your hip to stop you.

"Megan, seriously, we're going to be late."

"I don't care," she says again, but this time her voice is lower. More serious. She lifts her head and looks at you with those big eyes. "Today… could we walk to school together?"

The question hangs in the air. Her voice is barely a whisper, and her fingers keep stroking your neck as if she needs to be doing something with her hands to keep from dying of nerves.

You know exactly what she's asking you. Because until now, you had always left her on the corner. Fifteen minutes exactly before class started, on the same corner as always, with the excuse that you didn't want people to see you arriving together. Megan waited there, with her books hugged to her chest, looking at her watch every thirty seconds. Exactly fifteen minutes later, she walked toward the entrance. Alone. As if you didn't exist. As if nothing that happened between you two was real.

And she never complained. She just nodded with that sad smile that now, remembering it, makes your chest tighten in an uncomfortable way.

"Yes," you say.

Megan blinks. "Really?"

"Yes, really," you repeat. "I don't have to wait fifteen minutes on the—"

"Megan." You cut her off, bringing your hand to her cheek. Her skin is hot under your fingers, and she stays completely quiet, as if any movement would break the moment. "I said yes. Stop asking, nerd."

Her eyes fill with emotion and she smiles. A huge, clumsy smile, with her cheeks so red. And before you can say anything else, she lunges at you and hugs you so tightly that you both fall back onto the bed.

"Megan, you're choking me!"

"Sorry!" she says, but she doesn't let go. Her face is buried in your chest and her laugh vibrates against your ribs. "I'm so happy."

"I can tell, you clumsy girl."

You stay there a little longer, feeling her heart beat fast against yours, and you think that maybe — just maybe — it was worth being a little braver.

A few hours later, you're walking together toward school. Megan's arm rests on your shoulders naturally. Her hand hangs near your neck, and every two or three steps, she pulls you against her side, as if she needs to confirm you're still there.

You walk through the gate, and the stares begin. Some whisper. Many others stand with their mouths open. But you don't care. Megan keeps walking with her head high, her cheeks red, and that smile she can't hide. You stay glued to her side, feeling the weight of her arm on your shoulders, and you don't speed up.

You walk through the main hallway with the colorful lockers and the science fair posters, and the stares follow you, but neither of you turns your head.

You reach the classroom door. Megan squeezes you against her side for one last second, then lets you go with a knowing smile. And each of you goes to her group.

The classroom is an elongated rectangle with windows facing the inner courtyard. The desks are arranged in perfect rows, and the distribution is the same as always: the nerds in front, glued to the board as if afraid of missing a single word; the soccer players in the back, lounging in their chairs with nonchalance; and in the middle, the popular girls, close enough to the board but not too far forward.

Megan drops into her usual spot: first row, second column. From there, she can see the board without straining and, more importantly, she's close enough to the teacher to raise her hand and be seen.

Her friends were waiting for her. Yoonchae, Alysa, and Emily form a semicircle around her, with their legs crossed and ear-to-ear smiles.

Yoonchae has her black hair pulled into two pigtails that look ridiculously cute, and an expression that mixes genuine excitement with an obvious desire to mess with her. "Well," she says, resting her elbows on Megan's desk with familiarity. "Everyone knows now."

Megan takes out her books with fake calm, but her ears give her away — they're as red as stoplights. "Yeah."

Alysa leans forward and rests her chin on her hand. Her gaze is analytical, as if she's dissecting Megan to understand how a first-row brainiac ended up with her arm over the shoulders of the most popular girl in school.

"I still don't understand how you did it…" she shakes her head, but she smiles. "I don't know if I should applaud you or ask you for advice."

"Both," says Emily, with a small but bright smile. "That's my girl." She laughs while high-fiving Megan. — too nerdy, it hurts, ugh —

Megan bites her lip, and her fingers play with the edge of her notebook, rolling and unrolling a corner of the paper. "She said she wants to make it official," she says, and even though she tries to sound casual, the sentence comes out with a weight that all of them recognize.

Yoonchae lets out a sharp squeal, unable to contain herself. The sound bounces off the classroom walls, and several heads turn toward them.

"FINALLY!" she exclaims, and even though she immediately covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes keep shining.

"Shhh!" Alysa shushes her, but she's also smiling.

"Megan got the popular girl!" Emily sings quietly, nudging her with her elbow. "The brainiac got the girl everyone wants."

"Don't say that," Megan murmurs, but her smile gives her away.

"And how did you do it?" Alysa asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. "Because talking about Pokémon and Spider-Man, I don't think so."

Megan shrugs, but her cheeks get even redder, if that's possible. Her fingers stop playing with the notebook and tangle in the hem of her shirt.

"The nerd and the popular girl," Alysa repeats, as if she still can't believe it. "This is better than any series."

"Shut up," Megan says, but the smile never leaves her face. Because even though it's embarrassing, even though her ears are burning and she knows her friends won't let her live in peace for the rest of the day, it's also nice. After months of hiding, it's finally official.

On the other side of the classroom, the dynamic is different but equally intense.

Y/n drops into a chair in the middle. Your group is scattered around the nearby desks, but they're all oriented toward you. As if you had walked in with a light on over your head and they couldn't look anywhere else.

Lara is leaning against the wall, with her arms crossed over her chest and a smile that promises nothing good. Her eyes have that gleam of someone who's already preparing material to mock you all week.

Manon is sitting backward in her chair, with her legs open and her arms resting on the backrest, and she looks at you with an expression of malicious happiness that makes you suspicious.

Sophia is at the desk in the back. She has Dani on her lap, as always. Dani has her head resting on Sophia's shoulder and her arms wrapped around Sophia's neck, as if she were made to be there. Sophia has one hand on Dani's waist and the other distractedly stroking her arm.

"Well," Lara says, breaking the silence. Her voice is dangerously slow. "Officially, you're the talk of the day."

"Yeah, thanks Lara, I hadn't noticed," you reply sarcastically, letting yourself fall into your chair.

"Sooo…" Manon laughs, biting the cap of her pen. "The same girl who made her wait fifteen minutes on a corner now walks in with her arm over her shoulder with the happiest face I've seen in years. Wow."

"Stop exaggerating."

"I'm not exaggerating." Lara nods her head toward the front of the classroom, where Megan is laughing at something with her friends. "That nerd has you crazy, huh."

Dani sits up slightly on Sophia's lap, without letting go of her neck, and looks at you with a mischievous smile. Dani is the sweetest in the group, but she also has a malicious streak that only comes out when she knows she can get a reaction out of you.

"The question is," Dani says, tilting her head, "are you going to join the robotics club now or…?"

Everyone laughs. Manon laughs so hard she almost falls out of her chair. Lara shakes her head but smiles. Sophia, the calmest one, shakes her head but can't help letting a smile appear on her face.

"I still can't believe it," Manon says, pointing at you with her finger. "I've never seen you so red."

"I'm not red."

"Yes, you are. Even your ears." Manon leans forward to get a better look at you, and her smile is so wide it looks like it might split her face. "The Y/n I know doesn't get red for anything. You used to make boys cry in school without blinking. And now you're there, blushing like a teenager, because a nerd with crooked glasses put her arm on your shoulder."

"That's not why," you lie, but your voice comes out higher than normal, and they all notice.

"Of course it is," Lara says, crossing her arms. "And that's fine. We're not judging you. We're just enjoying the show."

"Leave her alone," Sophia says, and her voice drops a tone, just enough to make it clear that what's coming is important. "Are you okay with everyone knowing?"

You think for a second and look toward the front of the classroom, where Megan is. She's talking with her friends, gesturing with her hands, and at some point, she laughs at something Yoonchae said.

She's such a nerd. She's so messy. She's so her.

And at that moment, just when you're looking at her, Megan turns around. She looks at you over her shoulder, with those crooked glasses and that silly smile. And you, despite your friends' teasing, can't help but smile back.

"Yeah," you answer, and the word comes out easier than you expected. "I'm okay."

"Aww, she's in love," Manon sings quietly, and this time everyone laughs, even you.

"I'm embarrassed," you correct, and you run your hands over your face as you lean back in your chair.

Sophia shakes her head but smiles at you. She puts an arm around Dani's shoulders and looks at you with that sincere warmth. "I'm happy for you," Sophia says, and her voice is soft, without mockery, just affection. "It's not easy to take that step. And you did it."

The cafeteria was a tumult of bodies and noise at that hour. The metal trays and the smell of food floated in the thick air. Your group found the usual table. It's not that it's reserved or anything, but after two years of sitting in the same place, everyone else has learned not to take it. It's an unwritten rule — and honestly, no one wants to have problems with your group.

You're in the middle of all of them, with your tray still almost full because you spent more time talking than eating. They're arguing about what series to watch for girls' night this week — Manon insists on the zombie one, Lara wants to watch a fashion documentary — and the conversation goes back and forth like a ping-pong ball, going nowhere.

"Zombies are boring," Lara says, cutting a French fry in half and throwing it at Manon. "It's always the same, and they're gross."

"That's because you haven't seen the latest season," Manon counters, pointing at her with a fork. "Now there are zombies that—"

"I don't care what there is now. It's zombies."

"That's because your little brain doesn't know how to appreciate anything."

"Yours only likes to watch gross things eating each other…"

Dani interrupts the argument with a gesture. She lifts her head from Sophia's shoulder just enough to look toward the cafeteria entrance, and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"Look who's coming," she says, her voice dropping just enough to sound intimate, conspiratorial.

Everyone turns their heads.

And there she is.

Megan walks toward your table with determined steps but with her usual clumsiness. She carries her tray in her hands, her gaze fixed on you, as if the rest of the cafeteria didn't exist.

Behind her, at her own table, you see Yoonchae, Alysa, and Emily. All three are watching the scene with their hands on their faces and wide smiles, laughing at the spectacle in front of them. Yoonchae doubles over the table when she sees Megan trip over her own feet, and Alysa nudges her with her elbow, dying of laughter. Emily simply observes with an amused expression.

Megan reaches your table. She stands there for a second, breathing faster than normal. The tray trembles a little in her hands. Her eyes scan your group, and for a moment, it looks like she's going to turn around and run away. But she doesn't. She takes a deep breath, presses her lips together, and looks back at you.

"Come," she says.

Her voice is short. Direct. But her hand is shaking.

"Where?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

"To the library. I want to… talk."

Dani whistles quietly. It's a soft whistle, but in the silence that has fallen around your table, it sounds like a gunshot. Sophia silences her with an elbow to the ribs, but she's also smiling.

Your friends look at you. Manon has that expression she gets when she's about to say something that will embarrass you even more. Lara raises her eyebrows with a smile so wide it looks like a threat. Sophia then looks at you and makes a small gesture with her head, almost imperceptible, that clearly says "go with Megan."

Manon can't contain herself any longer.

"Where do you want to take our baby, Megan?" she says, her voice trying to be serious but coming out the opposite. "I don't want to see her afterward with bruises on her knees."

"Manon," Lara cuts her off, but she's holding back her laughter with all her might.

"What? I'm just looking out for the health of Y/n's knees… and her throat." The last part she says in a whisper that clearly everyone at the table could hear.

"MANON! We're not going to do anything," you say, even though it sounds fake even to you.

"Of course not," Manon says, winking. "It's a 'talk.' In the library. At the table hidden behind the geography bookshelf. Very casual."

"Manon, shut up," Sophia says this time, and her voice has that mom tone that no one dares to challenge.

Manon laughs but shuts up. For now.

You stand up. You grab your tray and leave it on the return cart. Megan waits for you. When you reach her side, her fingers search for yours like magnets. It's a quick, almost nervous movement. She tangles her fingers with yours and starts leading you toward the exit.

The laughter from your group fades behind you, but not completely. You manage to hear Manon shout, with that lack of filter that characterizes her:

"Don't devour her, Megan! We have class afterward!"

And then the sound of Lara slapping her arm, and Dani's contagious laughter.

Megan speeds up. She's red up to her ears.

"Your friends are…" she starts, but doesn't finish the sentence.

"I know," you say, and you squeeze her hand. "Don't pay attention to them."

She nods. She keeps walking. She doesn't let go of your hand. From that day on, she never does.

When you arrive, the library is empty at this hour. The air has that unmistakable smell of old paper and damp wood, of books no one has opened in decades and of recent photocopies someone left behind.

The librarian, an older man who is always dozing behind the counter. He has a newspaper open over his face, and his breathing is slow and deep.

Megan walks through the library with a firm step, knowing the route perfectly. It was the only place during the previous months where you could see each other without being seen by others. She turns left, passes between the math shelves, then the physics ones, and finally you reach the back.

There, behind the geography bookshelf, there's a corner that no one visits. The shelves form a small dead-end alley, a bubble of silence, your special place. It's an intimate, almost secret place. A place where no one will look for you.

Only then does Megan let go of your hand.

But not for long.

She turns toward you with a speed that takes you by surprise. Her hands go up to your face, and before you can form a word, her mouth is on yours.

It's not a kiss like the ones from this morning. This one is desperate, urgent, hungry. As if she hadn't seen you in days instead of just a couple of hours. Her tongue finds yours without asking permission. Her fingers tangle in your hair, squeezing, pulling you closer.

Megan has you trapped between her body and the wood. Her hips press against yours, and one of her hands moves from your hair to your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt.

When you finally pull apart, your breathing is ragged. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. You blink. You're still processing what just happened. Your back is pressed against the bookshelf.

"Wow," you say. The word comes out rougher than you intended, still breathless. "Did you miss me that much?"

Megan laughs. It's a nervous laugh, almost embarrassed. Her thumbs trace distracted circles on your cheekbones. "Always."

You start laughing again. And she hits you again, this time without a kiss — just a long, tight hug that leaves you breathless. She buries her face in your neck, like a tick, and her arms wrap tightly around you.

"You're so clingy," you say against her hair, but your arm goes up to her back and you hug her back.

"And yet here you are," she corrects. You shake your head, but you smile. Because she's right.

And when you finally pull apart and sit down in the chairs, the world feels a little calmer. The light from the window falls on both of you, and the dust motes keep floating in the air.

"The girls didn't stop making fun of me today," you say, running your hands over your face but hiding a smile underneath.

Megan presses you against her side.

summary. You fell in love with the wrong person, Lara. You forgave what you shouldn't have, and she broke you in ways you didn't know existed. But even when everything is in pieces, there's always someone who fixes what they didn't break, Sophia.

content. g!p lara, g!p sophia, p in v, unprotected sex, orgasms, dirty talk, bit of angst, cheating

You and Lara met in the hell of rehearsals for Katseye's world tour.

Ever since you were little, you loved to dance, so now that you were dedicated to it, when the call for backup dancers for the world tour came out, you didn't hesitate for a second. You were selected. And the first time you saw Lara in person, you felt the air escape from your lungs.

You had never believed in love at first sight. In desire, maybe. In physical attraction, sure. But this was different. Lara had something magnetic, something that went beyond her obvious beauty. It was the way she moved, the way she occupied space, the way she made everything around her orbit around her without her making the slightest effort.

The first rehearsals were an exercise in emotional endurance. You had to dance close to her in several choreographies, and every time her hand brushed your hip to adjust a position, every time her breath grazed the back of your neck while she corrected a step, you felt the ground soften beneath your feet. Lara seemed to notice because she would seek you out during breaks, offer you water. And you, naive, thought it was just kindness.

Until one night, after a rehearsal that stretched until two in the morning, she found you alone in the dressing room, taking off your pointe shoes.

"Do you always stay late?" she asked from the doorway, arms crossed and with that smile you were starting to know.

"I'm a perfectionist," you replied, shrugging. "I want everything to go well."

"I like that," Lara said, and she crouched in front of you, taking your hands away to untie the ribbons of your shoes herself. When she finished, instead of getting up, she stayed there, on her knees, looking into your eyes. The silence stretched, dense and hot.

"Y/n?" she said, her voice lower than you remembered.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

It wasn't romantic. It was urgent, almost desperate. Her mouth found yours before you could answer, and the first kiss was wet. She grabbed you by the nape of your neck, tilted you back, and kissed you as if she'd been wanting to do it for years. When she finally pulled away, you two were breathing hard, she smiled.

"I'd been wanting to do that for weeks," she admitted, and her thumb stroked your cheek. "Is that wrong?"

You shook your head, still speechless.

"Then," she said, standing up and reaching out a hand to you. "Let me take you home."

That night, nothing else happened. She left you at your apartment door with a kiss on the forehead and a "see you tomorrow" that sounded like a promise. But the fire was already lit.

The first date came a week later. Lara picked you up in her car and took you to a rooftop restaurant at a hotel you couldn't afford even in your wildest dreams. The lights stretched out below you like a blanket of artificial stars, and Lara, with a glass of red wine between her fingers and her gaze fixed on you, made you feel like the most important person in the world.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," she asked, leaning back in her chair with an innate elegance.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something that scares you. Something that makes you happy. Something only you know."

You thought. And then, without knowing why, you told her things about your family, about how much you missed your mother and how she always supported you in your career. Lara listened without interrupting, and when you finished, she reached her hand across the table to intertwine her fingers with yours.

After dinner, she took you to her apartment.

"Do you live alone?" you asked, running your fingertips over the spines of the books on her shelf.

"Yes. I used to live with Megan, but we were too much chaos together." She stood behind you, so close you could feel the heat of her body. "But sometimes I think it's good to have space in case someone wants to stay."

You turned around. Her eyes were dark, her pupils dilated, and her mouth slightly open. This time she didn't ask. This time she kissed you slowly, savoring you. Her hands went up your back, down your hips, and when she lifted you effortlessly, you let out a muffled squeal against her mouth.

"Easy," she murmured, walking toward the bed. "I've got you."

She let you fall onto the black sheets carefully, as if you were made of porcelain, and stayed looking down at you. Her chest rose and fell.

"Never," she said, unzipping her pants, "had I wanted someone like this before I met you."

You didn't know if it was true or not. You didn't care. That night, Lara made love to you with an intensity that left you shaking until dawn, and when the sun began to filter through the curtains, you were still in her arms, with her member still wet between your ass cheeks and her warm breath on the back of your neck.

"Stay," she whispered. "Stay forever."

And you, idiot, believed her.

The following months with Lara were just as perfect as that first day.

No, perfect is not quite right. Perfect is too small a word for what you felt. The months with Lara were like living inside a honey bubble.

There were routines that settled into your lives with the naturalness of things that had always been there. Sunday mornings were sacred. No rehearsals, no obligations, just the two of you and Lara's bed.

"You look like an angel when you sleep," she said drowsily and kissed you. The kiss stretched on until breakfast burned in the kitchen and you had to order delivery again.

On bad days, Lara showing up in your dressing room with your favorite coffee without you having to ask. Her waiting for you after rehearsals with the car on and the heat on because she knew you always came out cold. Lara whispering "I love you" in your ear during a choreography, so low that only you could hear it.

She made you feel like you were hers.

And she was only yours.

Or so you believed.

Because you were eight months in when the first real fight happened.

You hadn't wanted it to come to that. The perfect months had given you a false sense of security. But that night, sitting on her couch with your stomach clenched and your hands sweating, you felt the first crack open.

It had started as always: you waiting for Lara to come back from the studio. She had said she'd be back by eight, then nine, then a message saying she'd been delayed a bit. When she finally opened the door, it was almost ten-thirty.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, dropping her keys at the entrance and coming over to kiss you. "The producers kept asking for last-minute changes. It's crazy."

"It's okay," you replied, because you didn't want to be that type of girlfriend. Because Lara didn't want you to be that type of girlfriend.

You ate something quick — Lara ordered delivery while you heated up the soup you'd made three hours earlier — and sat on the couch to watch a series. Lara put her head on your lap, you stroked her hair, and everything seemed normal. Until her phone started vibrating.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Four. Five. Six.

It was a constant beeping.

"Aren't you going to check?" you asked, your voice neutral. Or trying to be.

"Leave it," Lara murmured, her eyes closed. "I'll check it later."

It vibrated again. And again. And again.

"It just won't stop," you said, and you couldn't help your tone sounding tenser than you wanted. "Is it the producers again?"

Lara opened her eyes. She sat up, turning to look at you, and her expression had changed. Something colder.

"Why are you asking?"

"Maybe it's important," you replied, shrugging. "It's ringing a lot."

"It's ringing because I have work, Y/n." Lara picked up the phone, she sounded irritated, annoyed, like someone trying to hide something. She looked at the screen, then put it down again, this time face down on the arm of the couch. "I don't understand why it bothers you so much."

"It doesn't bother me. I was just asking."

"Well, stop asking."

Silence settled between you. Tense. You felt your throat tighten, that feeling of uncertainty. You weren't doing anything wrong, you had just asked. But Lara was looking at you as if you had crossed a line.

"Lara…"

"You know what?" She got up from the couch, leaving a cold space where her warmth had been. She walked to the window, her back to you, and her voice sounded tired. "It's always the same. Every time the phone rings, you make the same face. And it's exhausting, Y/n. Really."

"I don't make any face," you protested, standing up too. The couch suddenly felt too big without her. "I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just want to know. I'm not asking you to give me your password or show me your messages. But you always put your phone face down when I'm near, and when it rings you go to the bathroom to answer, and…"

Lara turned around then. And her completely cold laugh pierced you like a needle. You never understood how she could go from acting so sweet to being a complete stranger in 5 seconds.

"Really? Are you really saying this?" She took a step toward you, and for a moment you saw her eyes full of annoyance. "Do you realize how you sound?"

"How do I sound?"

"Like a crazy person." The word fell between you, heavy. "Do you hear yourself?"

Your eyes started to burn.

"I'm not jealous," you said, and your voice trembled slightly. "I just want you to trust me. For you not to have to hide things from me."

"I'm not hiding anything," Lara replied, and her tone softened. She took another step toward you, and another, until she was so close you could smell her perfume. Her hand went up to your cheek, and her thumb stroked your cheekbone with a contrasting tenderness. "Really, Y/n. There's nothing to hide. Do you understand?"

"Then why do you get like that?" you asked, your voice barely a thread.

"Sorry if I went too far. It's been a really long day and I'm on edge. But you have nothing to worry about. You're the only one, princess." She tilted her head and kissed you. A soft kiss, almost chaste.

You swallowed. The tears were still there, threatening to fall, but there was no reason, right?

"Okay," you whispered.

"Come here," Lara said, opening her arms. And you, like a little child, let yourself fall against her chest. You hugged her tightly, so tightly it hurt, and she held you just as tight. "I love you, Y/n. I swear I love you. This is all nonsense. Okay? Don't listen to me when I say you're crazy. It's the stress. I don't mean it."

"I know," you lied. You didn't know. But you wanted to believe it.

The second big fight came three weeks later.

You no longer remembered how these things started. Or maybe you did, but you preferred not to think about it. The dynamic had become unbearably installed: Lara did something that bothered you, you pointed it out, she called you crazy or jealous or intense, then she apologized, fucked you or hugged you, and you forgave her. It was a cycle.

The problem this time was that Lara disappeared.

Not that she had gone to another city. Not that you didn't know where she was. The problem was that for an entire day, she didn't answer a single message.

You texted her at eight thirty wishing her a good morning. Nothing.

Then at ten. Nothing.

Then at noon. Nothing.

Then at two. Nothing.

Then at seven. Two missed calls.

At eight. Three more.

And then at nine, when the silence had become unbearable, you decided to get in the car and go to her apartment.

Lara opened the door with wet hair, a towel around her shoulders, and a face that looked like she had just gotten out of the shower two seconds ago.

"Y/n," she said, as if it was a surprise to see you there. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been calling you all day," you replied. Your voice came out more broken than you wanted. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course, I'm fine." Lara stepped aside to let you in, and you entered the apartment you already knew by heart. "It's been a really heavy day."

"Heavy?"

"Yeah. Rehearsals, meetings, production. I haven't stopped."

"You could have answered me," you said, not looking at her. Your hand rested on the counter. "One single message. To know you were alive."

"I know, I'm sorry." Lara came up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders. She pressed with her thumbs, trying to relax the tension she clearly noticed. "I'm really sorry. It's been a horrible day."

"Then why didn't you answer?"

"Because…" Lara sighed, and her hands stopped moving. "Because my phone died."

You turned around. You looked her in the eyes.

"Your phone died?"

"Yes. It ran out of battery in the middle of the morning and I didn't have my charger. I was without it all day."

"You could have asked any of the girls. Megan always has her charger with her."

Lara blinked. Her jaw tensed slightly, such a small movement that if you didn't know her so well you would have missed it. "Well, she didn't have it. I don't know what to tell you." She stepped back, leaving a cold space between you. She leaned against the fridge with her arms crossed. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything." But your voice was trembling. And you knew it. And she knew it. "I'm just saying it's weird."

"Weird?" Lara frowned. "It's not weird. My phone died, Y/n. It's something that happens. It's not a conspiracy against you."

"I didn't say it was a conspiracy."

"You implied it."

"No…"

"Yes," Lara insisted, and her voice hardened. "You always do the same thing. If I don't answer in five minutes, you're already making up stories."

"I'm not saying there's something behind it," you replied, and this time yes, this time tears started to show. "I'm saying I worry about you. And if you don't feel like talking to me, you don't have to make up an excuse…"

Lara raised an eyebrow.

"That's an excuse?" she asked, already more defensive than she should have been, as if she were savoring every word. "An excuse, Y/n?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did." Lara straightened up, and suddenly she was taller than you, or at least she seemed it. Her presence filled the kitchen, made you feel small. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't know, Lara, I just…"

Lara shook her head. And then, to your surprise, she didn't get angrier. She softened. She sighed, ran a hand through her still-wet hair, and walked toward you with slow steps.

"Listen to me," she said, and her hands went up to your cheeks. She held your face with a tenderness that hurt. It was always the same with her — she acted like an idiot and then apologized as if it were the lightest thing in the world. "I'm not cheating on you. I'm not with anyone else. My phone died, I spent all day without being able to charge it, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't want you to worry."

"Okay…" you said. And you didn't add anything else, because you didn't know what to add.

Lara pulled you toward her. She hugged you tightly, your face smashed against her chest, and her hand stroked your back up and down, up and down, in a gesture meant to be calming.

"I love you," she murmured against your hair. "I love you so much, Y/n. I can't stand seeing you like this. And I know it's my fault, I know I've been a disaster today. But I swear there's no one else."

You stayed in her arms, eyes closed, breathing in her scent of shampoo and lies. Because deep down, in the deepest part of your being, you knew something didn't add up. But you were so tired of fighting, so tired of doubting, that you decided to stay quiet and keep feeding on those small moments where she "loved you."

That little peace lasted only three weeks.

"I had a shitty day," Lara said, pushing you onto the bed. "I needed this so badly."

Her body was already on top of yours, and her mouth found yours urgently. Lara's hands moved down your body with a haste you knew well, unbuttoning buttons, pulling down zippers, yanking off clothes.

"I needed you too," you replied, helping her undress you, arching your back so she could take off your bra. Her nipples brushed against yours and you moaned, hooking your legs around her waist. "I've been thinking about this all day."

Lara smiled against your neck, biting softly, and her hand moved down to your crotch. She touched you over your underwear, feeling the wetness already soaking the fabric.

"Always so ready for me," she murmured, her voice rough, deep. "Such a good girl."

"Only for you."

She pulled off her pants and underwear in one tug, and her cock appeared, already erect, the tip swollen and slightly dripping. She spread your legs with her knees and positioned herself between them.

"Come on," you begged, pushing your hips upward. "Please."

Lara pushed. Her cock entered you with an ease that made you moan, filling you completely, occupying every empty space. She stayed still for a second, both of you breathing together, and then she began to move.

The rhythm was fast, intense, but not rough. Lara knew exactly how to move her hips to drive you crazy, what speed you needed, what depth. Her hands held your hips, her fingers digging into your skin, and you clung to her shoulders.

"It feels so good," you moaned. "Don't stop."

"I'm not going to stop," Lara replied, speeding up. Her cock went in and out of you with a wet, obscene sound that filled the room, and each thrust brought you a little closer to the edge. "You squeeze me so tight."

"You're my slut, you know that?" Lara panted, speeding up more, sweat beading on her forehead, her breath ragged. "My favorite slut. God, how you squeeze, Y/n."

You couldn't answer. Just moan. The pleasure was blinding. You were about to come, the orgasm so close you could almost taste it. You closed your eyes, letting go, whispering her name like a prayer.

"Lara… Lara, please… I'm going to…"

That's when Lara leaned her torso over your back. Breathless, sweaty, her cock buried inside you. Her lips brushed your ear, her hot breath on your skin, and she whispered:

"Yes, just like that. Come for me, Jade."

The world stopped.

The orgasm died before it was born. The pleasure turned to nausea, and the nausea to a cold that ran through your veins like liquid ice. You opened your eyes. You blinked. At first you couldn't believe it. Your brain refused to process the information, as if you were dreaming, as if it were a sick joke.

But it wasn't a joke.

"What did you say?" you asked, and your voice sounded strange, dangerous. It wasn't the voice of Y/n, the submissive girlfriend. It was someone else.

Lara lifted her head, confused. Her cock was still inside you, but she had noticed something was wrong. She blinked, and on her face appeared first confusion, then recognition.

"What?" she said, shrugging, as if nothing had happened. "I just got confused, baby, come on."

You felt rage rise in your chest. It wasn't sadness anymore. It was fury. Pure, liquid fury boiling in your veins.

"A mistake?" you repeated, your voice a thread of ice. "Calling me by another bitch's name while you were fucking me is a mistake?"

"Of course it is," Lara replied, with that damned calm, as if she were talking to a spoiled child. "Jade is no one. It's not a big deal. Relax, princess."

"Don't call me princess."

You sat up abruptly. Lara was thrown backward, her cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. You didn't care. You sat on the bed, fumbling for your clothes.

"Y/n, don't be like that," Lara said, sitting up too, still naked, her cock half-soft between her thighs. "It was just a mistake. It's not a big deal."

"It's not a big deal?" You pulled your shirt on by force, without a bra, not caring how you looked. "I've been putting up with your shit for six months, Lara. And now you call me Jade while you fuck me. And you tell me it's not a big deal?"

Lara sighed, with that tired gesture you hated so much.

"You're exaggerating. Like always. You create drama where there is none."

"I'm not creating anything," you replied, putting on your pants. Your hands were still steady. "You're the one who's been lying to me. You're the one who did all this. And I, stupidly, let you. But it's over."

Lara blinked. For the first time, her smile disappeared.

"What do you mean 'it's over'?"

"I'm leaving," you said, and headed for the door.

"Y/n, wait." Lara got out of bed, naked, and grabbed your wrist. "Don't leave like this. Let's talk."

You turned to look at her. You saw her there, naked, with wet eyes and a trembling jaw, and for a second you felt pity. But only a second.

"There's nothing to talk about," you replied, pulling your hand free. "We've talked too many times already. And you always end up doing the same thing."

"Y/n, please…"

"Let me go."

You walked out of the bedroom. You walked toward the apartment door, and Lara followed you, still naked, still begging.

"I love you," she said, her voice broken. "I swear I love you, Y/n. Jae is nothing. It was a mistake, a fucking mistake, and I'm not going to do it again. Please don't leave."

You stopped at the door. Your hand on the handle. Your back to her.

"I just…" you said, and your voice was starting to tremble. "Just let me think about it for a few days, please."

You opened the door and walked out with your heart in your throat.

The days following the fight were a gray territory you didn't know how to navigate. You hadn't broken up, but you weren't okay either. You hadn't talked, but you hadn't stopped talking either.

Three days ago, the last time you had really talked, it had been in Lara's dressing room after a particularly hard rehearsal. You had gone to get your hoodie, and Lara took the chance to stop you.

"Y/n," she had said, and her voice didn't have its usual arrogance. It was lower, more insecure. "I don't want to pressure you. But this… this between us… can't go on like this."

You had kept looking for the hoodie without looking at her, even though you knew perfectly well where it was. On the back of the chair, to your left. But you didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you.

"I told you I needed time, Lara."

"I'll give you all the time you want," Lara said, and her voice had softened, something that didn't happen often. "But don't leave me. Please. Don't leave me."

That night you could barely sleep remembering those words.

But three days later, you arrived at the rehearsal studio like every morning. It was eight o'clock, the sun was starting to filter through the windows, drawing quadrilaterals of golden light. The group of dancers was already warming up.

But something was wrong.

You didn't know exactly what at first, but the looks would dart away when you met them. There was an uncomfortable silence that didn't fit with normal mornings.

"What's going on?" you asked, dropping your bag on the floor with a thud that sounded louder than you wanted. Your voice cut through the general murmur like a knife.

No one answered.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on?" you insisted, a knot starting to form in your stomach. Clearly something was wrong and it had to do with you.

One of your friends stepped forward, you could see his eyes full of restrained pity. "Y/n…" he started, and hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line. He held out his phone with a trembling hand. "Better if you see for yourself."

The screen showed a photo. Blurry, taken from far away in the darkness of a bar. But there was no doubt. It was her.

Lara.

In a corner, with her tongue shoved down the mouth of a blue-haired girl. Her hands on the other's hips, her fingers digging into the fabric of her pants. Her smile, the one she once promised was only for you, shining even in the dim light on someone else's lips.

Time stopped.

"This has been circulating on social media since this morning. They say it's from last night."

You didn't answer. Your eyes stayed fixed on the screen. On her hands on another's hips. On her mouth pressed against another mouth. On her lie.

"Where is she?" you asked, and your voice sounded strange. Dead. With all the anger you had held in for so long just not to lose her. "Where's Lara?"

"She hasn't arrived yet," someone behind you answered. "But you should wait to—"

Then the studio door opened.

Lara walked in with her backpack over her shoulder, her hair tied in a high ponytail, her headphones on. She was humming something until her eyes met yours.

"Princess," she said, taking off her headphones. "Glad I see you. I've been calling you, you know? You weren't answering and I thought—"

"Come with me," you interrupted.

Lara raised an eyebrow, confused, but she followed you as you headed toward the dressing room hallway. You walked to the end of the hallway, where the light became dimmer and the echo of footsteps resonated off the walls.

Lara was smiling from ear to ear. "I knew you couldn't stay mad for long," she said, taking a step toward you. "I've missed you so much, Y/n. These days without you—"

"Shut up."

"—have been awful, really. And I know I asked you for time, but I swear not being able to talk to you, not being able to touch you—"

"Shut the fuck up for once, Lara."

Lara stopped. Her smile wavered, but she still leaned toward you, closing the distance to just a few centimeters. "Come on, princess. Don't punish me anymore. You're over being mad, right? I've missed you too much. I need you."

That was when your hand moved.

Your hand opened and your palm hit her cheek with a dry slap that echoed through the hallway like a gunshot.

Lara stepped back, her hand instinctively going to her face. The mark of your fingers was starting to redden on her skin. "What the fuck…?"

"You're an idiot!" you shouted at her. Your voice trembled with rage. A rage you had been drowning. "Do you think this is about you?"

"What are you talking about?" Lara frowned, her hand still on her reddened cheek. The confidence was starting to crack. "Come on, what did I do now?"

You pulled out your phone. You opened the photo. You held it in front of her face.

Lara looked at the screen. She blinked. Her expression changed completely — there was no trace left of that stupid smile she'd held the whole way to the hallway.

"That…" she started. "I was drunk. I don't even remember that. It doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything?" you repeated, full of rage. "Kissing someone else doesn't mean anything?"

"I was drunk," Lara insisted, shrugging, and that gesture disgusted you more than anything else. "Everyone does stupid things when they drink. Besides…" She paused, and her eyes turned harder. "Didn't we agree that I was giving you your space? That you needed time?"

The low blow left you breathless for a few seconds.

"You're blaming me?"

"I'm not blaming you," Lara said, even though her tone said the opposite. "But if you ask me for time and pull away, and I'm sad and I drink and I do something stupid… it's not entirely my fault."

"We hadn't broken up, you idiot," you said, and each word came out with effort, as if you were tearing it from somewhere very deep. "I can't believe how shitty you are."

Something in Lara's face changed. For a moment, you saw something like shame. But it disappeared quickly, replaced by that defensive attitude you hated so much.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Alright? I'm sorry. It was a mistake. But it's not that big of a deal…"

"Not that big of a deal?" Your voice rose a tone. "How would you feel if I kissed someone else?"

Lara fell silent. Her jaw tensed. And when she spoke, her voice was colder than you had expected. "I'd go crazy. You know I would. You know I couldn't stand seeing anyone touch you."

Lara lifted her chin. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile returned. "Look," she said, with a calmness that only increased your anger, "I know this isn't right. But you and I know how this works. You're not going to leave me."

"What the hell is wrong with you, god?"

"But in the end, you always come back. Because you can't live without me, Y/n. And you know it."

The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"What did you say?" you asked, full of disbelief, unable to believe that this Lara was the same Lara you had fallen in love with.

"That you can't live without me," Lara repeated, slowly, as if she were savoring each word. "You're crazy about me. You've been putting up with shit for months and you're still here. So why are you making this drama? You're going to forgive me, like always."

"Fuck you. You're sick," you replied, and your voice trembled with rage and with something that felt like liberation. "It's over, Lara. Really over."

"You don't mean that."

"I mean it very seriously."

"You can't—"

That was when Sophia appeared. "What's going on here?" she asked, with an authoritative voice.

"Stay out of this, Sophia," Lara said, without taking her eyes off you. "This is between Y/n and me."

"You've been arguing in a hallway where everyone can hear you for ten minutes," Sophia replied, stepping forward. "And the photos have already started reaching the production groups. So yes, I'm getting involved."

Lara turned to her, her eyes bloodshot.

"I said stay out of it."

"And I said yes." Sophia didn't flinch. Her gaze went from Lara to you, and in her eyes you saw something you didn't expect: concern. Concern for you. "Are you okay, Y/n?"

You didn't answer. You didn't know how to answer.

"Go away, Sophia, this isn't your problem," Lara intervened, stepping toward Sophia, getting between the two of you. "I'm her girlfriend, we're just—"

"Her girlfriend?" Sophia laughed, a short, bitter laugh. "The girlfriend who kisses other people in bars while her partner is at home? That girlfriend?"

For the first time that day, Lara's face crumpled.

"You don't know anything about us," Lara snapped, her voice trembling with fury. "Don't get involved in my relationship. You don't know what we've been through, you don't know what I feel for her, you don't know—"

"I know you've made her cry more times than you should," Sophia cut in, her voice hardening. "I know everyone in the studio has seen how you treated her. I know the whole dance team has had to comfort her today. And I know Y/n is too good for you."

"What do you know about what's good for her?" Lara took another step toward Sophia. They were almost face to face now, the tension between them electrifying the air. "Do you think because you're the leader you can come here and tell me how to love my girlfriend?"

"She's not your girlfriend," Sophia said, her voice becoming dangerously calm. "Not after this."

"That's not for you to decide!"

"It's for her to decide. And from the way she looks, I think she's already decided."

Both of them turned to you.

"Y/n," Lara said, her voice suddenly softer, as if she could fix everything with that tone. "Don't listen to what she says."

You looked at her. And for a second, just one second, your heart twisted.

But then you saw the photo again in your mind. Her hands on the blue-haired girl's hips. Her mouth on someone else's. The name Jade whispered in your ear, sounding so familiar on her lips, as if it weren't the first time.

"Go away, Lara," you said.

"This isn't over," Lara said, pointing a finger at Sophia. "This isn't over."

"Lara, it's over. Go away," Sophia replied, unflinching.

Lara turned and left. Her footsteps faded down the hallway, and you stood there, trembling, not knowing what to do with everything that had just happened.

When the sound of her footsteps disappeared, Sophia turned to you. Her expression softened.

"Y/n…"

"No," you cut her off, raising a hand. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want your pity."

She stayed by your side, not touching you, not pushing you. Just waiting. The hallway was silent now.

But something had broken inside you.

You didn't speak to Lara again after that. Not because she didn't try — she did, at first, with the ferocity of someone not used to being told no — but because you decided you had nothing left to say to her.

The first few days, the messages came in waves. Her name appeared on your phone screen over and over again. "Forgive me." "I still love you." "I can't lose you." "Give me another chance." "Are you going to throw away everything we built over one drunken night?"

Lara also tried to get close during rehearsals.

The first few days, she would plant herself next to you during breaks, with that smile that used to melt you and now seemed fake. She'd offer you water, ask how you slept, try to start conversations as if nothing had happened.

But you dodged her.

Then, something changed in her.

It wasn't a sudden change. It was gradual, almost imperceptible. One day she arrived at rehearsal with her head high, her hair in a high ponytail, her headphones on. She didn't look for you with her eyes. She didn't come to your side. She walked past you as if you were invisible, as if the space you occupied was empty.

She had gone from begging to completely ignoring you.

And that, to your surprise, hurt more than you expected.

Because silence hurts too. Because emptiness weighs too. Because when someone who claimed to love you suddenly acts as if you don't exist, you wonder if you ever really existed at all.

But even though it hurt, you weren't going to give in.

You had made a decision in that hallway, and you were going to get over her. Because the world doesn't end because of one girl.

So you focused on work. On dance. On the steps you knew by heart and yet kept practicing because, when the music filled your entire brain and left no room for thinking, you could forget you had been hurt. You could forget you were still bleeding.

Your dance partners hugged you on bad days. They invited you to eat after rehearsals even though they knew you'd say no. They told you absurd stories to make you laugh, and sometimes it worked.

Sophia, especially, became your silent shadow. She started coming closer slowly. She didn't say big things, didn't try to fix you or give you deep advice. She just sat by your side in silence, and her presence was a small anchor in the middle of the storm.

Weeks passed. Weeks turned into a month, and the month into almost two. Lara kept ignoring you, and you started to feel that maybe, just maybe, you were better off.

And when a message would come — once in a while, one, late at night, an "I miss you" or an "I'm sorry" or an "I still think about you" — you had the strength not to reply. You'd read it, feel a small tug in your chest, but you wouldn't reply.

You thought you were better.

You thought you had moved on.

----

The dancers' dressing room was on the ground floor, right next to the main backstage area. It was a small room, with mirror lights, metal racks, and a smell of makeup and sweat that had become familiar to you after so many years.

Tonight Katseye was performing at Lollapalooza, so the pressure was higher than usual. Dancers running back and forth, some doing makeup, others stretching, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed, so you decided to step out to get some air.

The hallway was dark. Poorly lit, full of equipment boxes stacked against the walls, sound cables crossing the floor. You moved carefully, dodging obstacles, counting your steps so you wouldn't trip over anything.

That's when you heard a sound.

A moan. Low, muffled, barely audible above the hum of the festival. And then a laugh. An intimate laugh, conspiratorial. A laugh you knew all too well.

In the darkest corner of the hallway, almost hidden behind a stack of amplifiers and a prop cart, was Lara.

And she had a girl pressed against the wall.

You had spent two months believing you were better. Two months building a shell of rehearsals and music and colleagues who told you "she's not worth it." Two months telling yourself that Lara no longer mattered to you, that you had gotten over her, that everything was fine, that you were finally healthy.

Lies.

The world crumbled around you. The noise of the festival became a distant buzz, irrelevant. Then you ran.

You reached your private dressing room with your breath ragged and your hands shaking. You went in. You locked the door. The bolt slid with a click that sounded final, like the closing of a box where you've put something you never want to see again.

You let yourself fall to the floor, your back against the wooden door, your legs pulled up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them. And then, for the first time in two months, you cried.

You cried because you had been stupid. Because you had believed that two months of distance were enough to forget a year of love and lies. Because you had believed all her "I love yous."

But then, between the sound of your sobs and the festival, you heard three knocks on the door.

"Y/n?"

Sophia. Her voice had become so familiar these past months.

"Y/n?" she repeated, more softly, as if speaking to a frightened animal, as if afraid that any sudden noise might make you run. "I know you're in there. I saw you come out of the hallway. I saw you… what you saw."

"Open the door, please," Sophia said, her voice heavy with concern. "I don't want you to be alone right now. Please, Y/n. Let me in."

Your hands trembled as you got up. You walked to the door, slid the bolt with an effort that cost you more than it should, and opened it.

"I saw her," you said. You felt so fragile, so pathetic. "I saw her. Again. Kissing someone else."

"I know," Sophia said, almost in a whisper, and her eyes didn't leave yours.

Then, without asking, she stepped into the dressing room. She closed the door behind her with a soft, noiseless movement, and stood in front of you, at a prudent distance, giving you space.

"Are you okay?" she asked, even though you both knew it was a stupid question.

"No," you replied, and your voice broke again. "I thought I was. But I'm not."

Sophia nodded, as if that were the only correct answer. As if anything else would have been a lie.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, with that voice of hers that seemed capable of holding up the weight of the world without flinching.

"No," you replied, in a whisper. "I want you here."

"Lara doesn't deserve you," she said finally, and her voice sounded sure, as if she were saying something she had known for a long time. "She never did. And she's an idiot for not knowing what she had. A complete idiot."

"That doesn't make it hurt less," you replied, and another tear slid down your cheek. Your voice was a broken thread, fragile, like everything inside you at that moment.

Sophia nodded slowly. And then, without saying anything else, she moved a little closer to you. The heat of her body seeped through your clothes, and you didn't pull away.

"Y/n…" Sophia said, her voice so low it seemed more like a vibration than a sound. She sighed deeply. Her fingers brushed yours. A minimal touch, but one that ran through your entire arm. "I know this isn't the time…"

"Sophia…"

"Let me finish," she murmured. Now her fingers intertwined firmly with yours, with a gentleness that hurt but in a good way. "I know this isn't the time. But I've spent months watching you suffer for someone who doesn't deserve you. Months wanting to be the one to hug you, to tell you everything was going to be okay. And I kept quiet, because you were hers, because it wasn't my place."

She paused. Her hand let go of yours and went up to your cheek. Her fingers rested on your skin, wet with tears. Her thumb moved slowly, wiping away the traces of crying.

"I know I can treat you better," Sophia said, her voice barely a whisper, a secret shared in the dim light. "Better than she can. Better than anyone."

"Tell me no," she whispered. "Tell me you didn't feel these past months that connection the way I did. Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll understand. I'll understand if you only see me as a friend. But tell me, because if you don't, I won't be able to stop thinking about you."

You didn't tell her no.

You tilted your head. You closed your eyes. And Sophia kissed you.

Sophia's lips brushed yours with a delicacy that contrasted with everything you had known until then. There was no pressure, no urgency.

Your hand went up to her neck, tangling in the black hair that had escaped her hairstyle. Your body moved toward her before your brain could process it. Sophia lifted you off the floor with ease, without stopping kissing you, and guided you backward until your back hit the dressing room wall.

The cold of the wall against your back made you shiver, and Sophia noticed. Her hand slid between your back and the wall, protecting you from the cold, and the gesture was so small and so big at the same time.

"Sophia," you whispered, pulling back just enough to breathe. Your lips were swollen, and your makeup was surely smudged from earlier tears. "I don't want you to do this out of pity."

Sophia rested her forehead against yours. Her eyes were closed, her breath ragged, and for a moment there was only the heat of her skin against yours, the shared rhythm of your hearts.

"It's not pity," she replied, her voice trembling, as she stroked your cheek as if holding something very fragile in her hands. "I swear it's not pity, Y/n. It's you. It's always been you."

Her mouth found yours again, and this time there was no softness. It was a deep kiss, wet, full of urgency held in for months. Her hands went down your back until they found the edge of your bodysuit, and her fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing your bare skin.

"Can I?" she asked, pulling back just enough. Her eyes searched yours, making sure you weren't uncomfortable.

"Please…"

When the bodysuit fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked against the wall, Sophia stepped back to look at you. She looked you up and down as if you were the only person in the world, as if she wanted to memorize every curve.

"You're so beautiful."

"Touch me, please," you replied, your voice sounding almost like a plea. "Please. Touch me, Sophia." And before she could respond, you were already on your knees.

Her mouth found your sex without warning, and the contact of her tongue directly on your clit made you arch your back, your head hitting the wall. Sophia held you by the hips, her fingers pressing into your skin.

It wasn't like Lara. Lara was always in a hurry, always treated your pleasure as secondary. Sophia, on the other hand, took her time. Her tongue explored every fold, every inch of you, as if she were learning you by heart.

The pleasure was intense, blinding. You felt the orgasm start to grow in your belly, felt your legs start to tremble. Then, with your hand, you pulled lightly on her hair, pulling her away.

"Wait," you said, your voice breathless. "Wait, Sophia."

Sophia looked up immediately. Her lips were glistening, her eyes were dark with desire, but in them appeared a flash of concern. She pulled away completely, sitting back on her heels, her hands going up to your knees.

"What's wrong?" she asked, slightly anxious. "Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, it's not that. I want you to fuck me," you interrupted, your voice hoarse with pleasure. "I want to feel you inside me."

Sophia looked at you for a second, and a slow smile spread across her face, almost one of relief, as if you had just given her the best news of her life.

"That can be arranged," she said, and kissed you.

She got rid of her stage jumpsuit in one quick movement. The black fabric fell to the floor, and Sophia stood naked in front of you. Between her thighs, her cock was already erect. It was big. Bigger than Lara's. Much thicker.

"Sure?"

"Sure," you replied. You grabbed her cock with one hand and guided it to your entrance. You were already soaked from her mouth, and the tip slid in easily. "Please."

The tip entered, and the thickness made you gasp. You felt it stretch you, felt your walls part to make way for it. Sophia noticed your tension and stopped, her hand going up to your hip to hold you.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, worried.

"No. Don't stop."

When her pelvis hit the inside of your thighs, you knew she was all the way in. You let out a moan that you were grateful for the festival outside for, because otherwise the whole crew would have heard it.

"Fuck," you whispered, your head falling back against the wall. "You're huge."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare."

She started moving. Slowly at first, letting you get used to her size. Each thrust was deep, her cock almost coming all the way out before going back in. With one hand she held your hip; with the other, she went up to your chest and began to caress your nipple.

"Faster," you asked. "Fuck me."

Sophia obeyed. She sped up the rhythm, the sound of her pelvis slapping against you filling the dressing room. It was obscene. Her cock went in and out of you with an ease that drove you crazy.

"It feels so good," you moaned, squeezing your legs around her waist, pulling her toward you. "I feel you so deep."

Sophia grunted, a guttural sound that vibrated against your neck. Her hips moved with a perfect, calculated rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last.

"That's because no one has ever fucked you like me," she said, and her voice was rough, confident, but not arrogant. It was the confidence of someone who knows what they're doing. "They don't know how to treat a princess like you."

"No," you replied, and it was a moan, it was a cry, it was all you could say. "No one. Only you."

Her hand went down from your chest to between your legs. Her fingers found your clit, swollen with need, and she began to stroke it in circular motions while she kept thrusting inside you. The contact made you arch against her, a torn gasp escaping your mouth.

"Who makes you feel like this?" Sophia asked, her mouth pressed to your ear, her hot breath on your skin. "Tell me."

"Sophia. You, Sophia," you swallowed, the words broken by pleasure. "No one else."

Her fingers pressed your clit harder, and her hips sped up the rhythm, her cock going in and out of you with a speed that made you see stars.

"I'm going to make you forget her fucking name," she whispered, and her voice was hard now, sure. There was no doubt in her.

And it was true. In that moment, you knew nothing. Only she existed. Only Sophia existed.

"Sophia, please."

"Sophia," you screamed, feeling the orgasm start to grow, fast and wild. "Sophia, I'm going to—"

"Come," she ordered. "Come for me, Y/n. I want to feel it. I want you to squeeze my cock when you come."

The orgasm shattered you into pieces. It wasn't like any you'd ever had before. It was more intense. You screamed her name as your pussy contracted around her cock in uncontrollable spasms.

"I'm going to fill you," Sophia groaned, broken by pleasure. "I'm going to fill you so well that the next time that idiot tries to get close, you'll still be dripping from me. Do you want me to come inside you, Y/n? Do you want to feel me inside you?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice a torn plea. "Yes, inside. I want to feel it, please."

That was all Sophia needed to hear.

A couple more thrusts and her body tensed against yours. A deep, guttural moan vibrated against your neck, and you felt her cock expand inside you, felt her heat spill in waves, filling you completely.

Sophia kissed you. Softly, as if time didn't matter, as if the festival could wait, as if the whole world could wait.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours with intensity.

"Y/n," she said, whispering. "Are you okay? Really okay? I don't want to—"

"I'm okay," you interrupted, running a hand through her hair, feeling the black strands slip through your fingers. "I'm better than okay."

Sophia frowned, as if she didn't quite believe you. Her hand, the one resting on your hip, went up to your side and then to your cheek. She held your face with a gentleness that contrasted with everything that had just happened.

"Sure?" she insisted, her thumb stroking your cheekbone. "Did I go too far? Was I too… I don't know… rough?"

"Sophia," you cut her off, and couldn't help but smile. She was so different from Lara. Lara never worried. But Sophia was there, naked, her eyes full of concern, asking if you were okay. "You didn't go too far. You weren't rough. It was perfect."

"Perfect?" she repeated, as if the word were foreign, as if she weren't sure she deserved it.

"Perfect," you confirmed, and rested your forehead against hers. "I swear I'm not just saying it. No one has ever made me feel like this. No one has ever treated me like this."

"I don't want you to think this was out of pity," she said, and her voice was firm now, though still low. "I don't want you to think I took advantage of you because you were crying, or because you were vulnerable. And I need you to know that."

"I know," you replied.

"It wasn't pity," she continued, as if she hadn't heard you, as if she needed to get it all out. "This is because I love you, Y/n. Because I've been wanting you for months, and I can't keep pretending I don't."

The silence that followed was dense.

"I don't know if I'm ready for something," you said finally, and the sincerity of your own words surprised you. "I have so many broken things inside me that I don't even know where to start fixing them. Lara hurt me so much. It wouldn't be fair to you."

Sophia nodded. She didn't pull away. She just looked at you with those dark eyes of hers, deep, patient.

"I'm not asking you to be ready," she said. "I'm not asking you to promise me anything. I just want you to know that I'm here."

It wasn't an absolute certainty. It was something that needed time and care to grow. But it was there. For the first time in months, it was there.

"What are you thinking about?" Sophia asked, her voice so soft it felt like a caress.

"That it's been a long time since I've felt like this," you replied, and rested your head on her shoulder. "I feel safe."

Sophia pulled you against her. Her hand went up to your neck and held you, as if you were the most precious thing she had.

"That's all I want."

Neither of you said anything more. She just kissed the top of your head, and her lips stayed there, pressed to your hair, while the festival played on outside.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, you closed your eyes without fear.

g!p biker!megan x fem!reader

summary. Your useless tire just had to puncture in the middle of a dark road. Lucky for you, a sexy biker is passing by and comes to your aid.

content. g!p megan, p in v, humiliation, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk,

"Shit, shit, shit."

You spat the words out with anger. Your hands, still trembling with frustration, were holding the manual that supposedly explained how to change a tire.

It was 11 pm on a road in the middle of nowhere. A stupid pothole you didn't see had punctured your car's rear tire. You were kneeling next to the flat tire, and you could feel the asphalt's dampness starting to seep through the fabric of your jeans.

You had everything you needed: the jack, the lug wrench, and the spare tire. But you were missing the most important thing: knowing how to use any of it.

Fear came first, like a small thought settling in your chest. You looked one way. Nothing. You looked the other way. Nothing. Just the empty road stretching out until it disappeared into the darkness, the trees on the sides barely moving with a breeze that was starting to turn cold.

You sat on the rear fender of your car and let your head fall into your hands. The tears didn't come. Not yet. You were too angry to cry, too frustrated.

That's when you heard the engine.

It wasn't the sound of a car. It was deeper, rougher — a vibration you felt in your chest before your ears registered it. You looked up. At the end of the straightaway, a dark spot grew in size, accompanied by a single headlight.

A motorcycle.

The roar grew more intense as it approached. The rider wore a heavy leather jacket. High work boots, the kind with steel toes and muddy laces. Short-fingered gloves. A full-face helmet with a dark visor that hid any features.

The motorcycle slowed down as it passed your car. For a second you thought it was going to keep going. But no. The bike stopped a few meters ahead; the exhaust coughed once and then it turned around. The rider handled it with a cocky smoothness and parked it facing your car, the headlight still on pointing directly at you.

The engine shut off.

The rider put the bike on its kickstand and got off slowly. She took off her gloves finger by finger. And then, only then, she turned toward you.

"Looks like you've got problems, princess."

You didn't know her. You'd never seen her before in your life. But you already hated her. For the way she said "princess," like you were a lost little girl in a mall. For the arrogance in her shoulders, in the way she stood, in her smug smile.

"Excuse me?" You jumped off the fender as if propelled by a spring. Your feet hit the asphalt hard. Fear dissolved into anger, a hot anger that rose up your chest and settled in your throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are to call me that?"

The stranger tilted her head, barely. A minimal gesture, but one that radiated a confidence that drove you crazy. She brought her hands to her helmet. Unclasped it with a sharp movement. Lifted it off.

And all the air left your lungs.

She wasn't just attractive. She was overwhelmingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that pulls sighs out of you and makes it impossible to look away.

She stood there, the helmet dangling from one hand, the wind playing with her hair. And that smile, that damn smile, didn't go away.

"I'm Megan," she said, her voice sounding different now that you could see her face, softer but just as confident. "And I came to save your ass, from the looks of it."

"I don't need saving," you spat, crossing your arms tightly, as if that could protect you from the way she was looking at you. Your fingers dug into your own arms.

"Sure," she laughed. The laugh was deep, warm, and echoed on the empty road like something out of place. "So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and change the tire, mhm?"

"None of your business."

Megan raised an eyebrow, and her eyes ran over you from head to toe: your loose jeans but tight on your ass, your small waist peeking out from under your baby tee. She stopped for a second on your chest, where your nipples were slightly visible through the fabric from the cold — of course she stopped there, God — then on the curve of your neck, your tan, and finally on your eyes.

"What are you staring at, freak?"

She took a step closer. Then another. Her leather jacket creaked with the movement, and the perfume she left in her wake was woody, with something like tobacco and leather, completely different from what you expected from someone who looked like she stepped out of a movie.

"Stop acting so proud and let me see," she said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming more intimate. Then she moved away again, crouching down next to the tire. Her fingers ran over the punctured rubber. "Damn, how did you even get a puncture like this?" she said without looking at you. She grabbed the lug wrench, inspected it, set it aside. She picked up the jack, turned a lever, checked something your inexperienced eyes couldn't see. "No one ever comes down this road, princess."

"Stop calling me princess."

She looked up. Those black eyes pierced you from below, and you felt naked, exposed, as if she could see right through you.

"Why? Does it bother you?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "That's why I'm not going to stop."

"Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there watching?" you asked, the challenge in your voice a shield, a last line of defense.

"I thought you knew how to do it." The blood rushed to your face. The heat burned your cheeks, your ears, your chest. Your pride shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Yeah, I do," you lied, your voice coming out sharper than you meant it to. "But I don't want to get my clothes dirty."

The silence stretched. Megan looked at you. And even knowing it was a lie, she grabbed the lug wrench and started working. You watched her loosen the lug nuts on the flat tire. A small bead of sweat ran down her forehead, and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together.

She worked fast. She was good at this. She jacked up the car in less time than it had taken you to read the instructions. Pulled off the flat tire with a sharp tug. Put on the spare.

When she was done, she lowered the car, put the tools away, picked up the flat tire, and tossed it into your trunk like it weighed nothing. She wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving black grease stains on the worn fabric.

"Thanks," you said, the word coming out small, insufficient.

"Just thanks?"

"What more do you want?"

Megan looked at you. Her eyes dropped to your lips, went back to your eyes, dropped again. The silence filled with tension. You could feel your breath slowly catching.

"My help isn't free."

She took another step closer. Now she was so close you could see the pores of her skin, a tiny scar on her right eyebrow, the shine of her lips chapped by the road wind.

"How much do you want?" you asked, your hand instinctively going to the wallet in your back pocket.

Megan shook her head with a small laugh.

"I don't want money, princess."

"Then what?"

The answer didn't come with words. It came with the heat of her body pressing against yours, with the leather of her jacket brushing your bare arms, with a hand on your neck and lips that took over yours before you could even think about pulling away.

The kiss wasn't gentle. It was hungry, desperate, as if she'd been holding something back since she got off the bike. Her tongue bit your lower lip, sucked it, and a moan escaped your throat before you could swallow it.

You didn't push her away.

That was your downfall.

Your hands went up to the leather of her jacket, gripped her shoulders, and you kissed her back with the same intensity. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulled gently, and another moan came from somewhere you didn't know existed.

"That's my payment," Megan said, her voice hoarse, her chest rising and falling fast. "You are the payment."

She didn't give you time to say anything. She'd already turned you around like you weighed nothing. Your hands found the bike's gas tank, palms flat against the cold metal, and Megan pressed against your back before you could complain. Her leather jacket creaked against your shirt.

Her hands went down your sides, slowly. They reached the waistband of your jeans. She unbuttoned them with skill. The fabric came down along with your underwear, and the cold night air hit your bare skin, making you shiver.

"Megan…" you started to say.

"Shut up," she whispered against your ear. Her fingers touched you, barely, feeling how wet you already were. A deep laugh vibrated against your neck. "Look at what you've become. Just from one kiss."

"Shut up."

You heard the sound of her belt, metal clinking, leather creaking as she positioned herself behind you. Then you felt the heat of her cock pressing against your entrance. The pressure. The size. All of it.

It wasn't a slow or careful entry. It was a firm, constant pressure that made your entire abdomen clench. You felt every inch like a hot, solid invasion, stretching you from the inside, filling you in a way that bordered on unbearable. It was enormous. Every inch of her cock seemed designed to fill you in a way you didn't know you needed.

The cry that escaped you was lost on the empty road, swallowed by the night. It wasn't a cry of pain, but it wasn't just pleasure either. It was a dirty mix of both, a complete surrender.

"Fuck," you heard Megan say behind you, her voice broken by the tension. "You're… fuck, you're incredibly tight."

Your fingers dug into the bike's cold tank. Knuckles white. Arms trembling. You could feel your own wetness lubricating every small movement, could hear the sticky, obscene sound of her pelvis pressing against the bottom of your ass.

Megan rested her forehead between your shoulder blades. Her hot breath went through the thin fabric of your shirt, leaving a trail of steam on your cold, goosebumped skin.

"Shh," she murmured. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She started moving.

Slow thrusts at first, deep, each one making you see stars. You could feel her pull out almost completely, leaving you empty for a second, only to sink back in to the hilt. The sound was obscene: a wet, rhythmic slap that mixed with your gasps and the creak of leather. Her hands squeezed your hips with a force that would surely leave bruises, and you, against all common sense, were pushing back to take more.

"Spank me," the word came out of your mouth with need before you could stop it. It was barely a whisper, but loud enough for Megan to hear.

"What? What did you say?" She pressed closer to you, bringing her ear to your mouth, wanting to hear your need clearly. "Come on, princess, don't be shy now."

"Spank me, please."

You didn't have to repeat it. Megan, with an ear-to-ear grin, straightened up just enough to have the perfect view of your ass, still pushing back against her cock. Then she raised her hand in the air and brought it down hard against your cheek.

The slap rang out sharp in the empty night. An immediate burn spread across your skin, and you felt it make you clench around her involuntarily. You tried to stifle the moan as much as possible while your arms gave out and you fell against the seat, bending over even more.

"You like that, you filthy slut?" Megan asked, her voice full of fake disgust that only made you wetter.

"More… harder," you managed to say.

"So dirty," Megan complained, but her hand went up again and again crashed down on your already sore ass. Then another. And another. And another.

Each spank left a burning mark. You could feel your skin vibrating after each hit, how the pain transformed into a deeper, more desperate need. Saliva started to drool from the corner of your lips. Your eyes filled with tears.

You were already a mess of moans, gasps, and tears. By now you didn't really care if someone passed by. You just wanted to feel her. And fuck, you were feeling her.

You couldn't stay quiet. Moans escaped your throat without permission, mixed with her name, with insults that went nowhere. "Megan, Megan, please, don't stop, don't stop, like that, like that, fuck, like that." The words came out clumsy, slurred, almost unintelligible.

Megan was fucking you against her bike, in the middle of the empty road, and you were liking it more than any sane person would admit.

"I'm going to… I'm going to come," you managed to say, your voice a broken thread.

"Come for me, come on."

The orgasm hit you like a whip. Your vision blurred for a second. Your whole body shook completely, fingers scratching the bike's paint, mouth open in a hoarse cry that disappeared into the night. You felt your insides clench around her cock over and over, uncontrollable spasms that left you breathless. Your legs trembled nonstop. Your back arched like a bow. You drooled completely, a string of saliva falling onto the bike's tank.

When the waves passed, when your body fell even more against the seat, she was still inside you. She hadn't come yet.

She started moving again.

The moans that came out of your mouth were different now, higher-pitched, mixed with whines of overstimulation. Each thrust was too much. Too deep, too intense, too everything. Your walls were still sensitive, burning, and each brush felt like a small explosion.

"Megan," you cried. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and fell onto the bike's tank, mixing with your own saliva. "Megan, I can't take anymore."

One of your hands reached back, trying to find her hip, trying to slow her down. But she caught it. She intertwined her fingers with yours, a gesture almost tender compared to what was actually happening.

"No no no, baby," she said, and the new nickname, softer, undid you more than any insult. "You're going to take it all. That's my payment for helping you. Remember I helped you, right?"

You nodded. You couldn't speak. The words had gone somewhere between your tight throat and your sobs. But you nodded.

"Say it."

"I'm going to… take it all," you sobbed.

"Such a good girl," she muttered against your ear.

She sped up. The rhythm became frantic. The sound of her hips against your ass filled the night, a wet, constant slap that mixed with your muffled screams. You didn't know if you were crying from pleasure or from pain or from both. You just knew you didn't want it to stop. Megan kept moving, and her breathing became more erratic, closer to the edge. Her fingers squeezed your hips hard, leaving white fingertip marks on your brown skin.

It only took a few more thrusts for you to feel her cock swell inside you, hard and pulsing. Her movements became more erratic, her moans higher-pitched, and then she pulled out quickly. You heard the wet sound of her hand sliding along her own cock, rubbing uncontrollably.

She aimed toward your ass, toward your lower back, and the first hot spurt fell on your skin. You felt the warm, thick impact at the base of your spine, slowly sliding down the curve of your back. Another spurt hit your side, hot and liquid. Another splashed the leather seat of her bike. A final thread fell on your reddened ass, mixing with the marks from her spanks.

You stayed there, trembling, breathing hard, feeling her cum slide down your skin and drip onto the asphalt.

"Look what you did," Megan said. Her voice was hoarse, tired, but still with that hint of amusement. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. "Look at the mess you made on my bike."

You turned slightly to look at her. Her eyes were bright, her hair completely disheveled, her smile crooked. She still had her cock in her hand, wet and semi-erect, dripping onto her fingers.

"Clean it up," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Clean it up for me, princess."

You looked at her. Swallowed. Your pride was shattered somewhere between the asphalt and the shadows.

"Megan…"

"Come on."

You knelt in front of the bike. You felt the cold, rough asphalt against your bare knees. You lowered your face to the leather seat. Your tongue tasted the salty, acidic, slightly bitter flavor. The smell of leather, of sex, of night. You closed your eyes and licked, slowly, collecting every drop, every trace. You could feel Megan's gaze burning into the back of your neck, could feel her watching you with that smug smile.

Megan stood watching you, hands on her hips, her chest still rising and falling. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

When you finished, when the seat was as clean as you could make it, you looked up. Your face was hot, your pride in tatters, your body sore, the taste of her still on your tongue.

"Happy now?" you asked, your voice broken.

Megan looked at you for a long while. Then she crouched down, lifted your face with two fingers, and kissed you. Soft. Very different from how she had kissed you before. Her tongue barely brushed yours, and when she pulled back, her eyes were bright. You could taste your own flavor mixed with hers on her lips.

When you separated, she pressed her forehead against yours and with that stupid smug smile said: