If you were already in a relationship when pervy!wanda became obsessed with you, she would mess with your mind so you saw her whenever you had sex with your girlfriend.
Your girlfriend was a sweet thing, surely. You loved her deeply, but Wanda could tell that she wasn’t right for you. She clearly couldn’t give you what you needed, especially inside the bedroom.
Each night, Wanda would use her magic to see through the walls and spy on what she and you were doing. When you had sex, Wanda would watch. She felt bad for you. It was just so… boring. So vanilla. Just a couple minutes of missionary before she’d had enough and wanted to go to sleep.
Wanda could easily tell that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to fuck. You wanted to get lost in your woman, not just mechanically thrust into her.
So, Wanda began to give you the kind of woman you wanted. Her.
Tonight was no different than any other night. You were on top of your girlfriend, slowly thrusting into her at the slow pace she liked, waiting for it to be over. Suddenly, something in your mind shifted. When you looked down, you didn’t see your girlfriend. You saw the new team member, Wanda.
You couldn’t even protest, because now, your cock was being squeezed by a pussy so much tighter and wetter than you could have ever imagined. You groaned, “Fuck!” nearly falling on top the Wanda projection at the sensation.
“Keep going, baby,” you heard Wanda’s voice whisper, the version of Wanda below you’s lips moving with the words. Even if your girlfriend was technically under you, you were fucking Wanda now.
You finally let yourself go, fucking into Wanda at a pace harder and faster than you ever had ever fucked with before. Your hands went down to her hips, feeling the lush curves of Wanda instead of the blocky shape of your girlfriend.
Wanda’s black painted fingers came up, nails digging into your back, the slight pain only making you fuck harder, a low growl escaping your throat. Your girlfriend was never vocal, but Wanda begged. “Fuck me harder, Y/N!” “God, your cock feels so good.” “Don’t stop, please!”
You felt yourself fast approaching your orgasm. Your girlfriend never let you cum in her, but it seemed like this Wanda had already read your mind. She leaned up, lips brushing against your ear as she whimpered, “Cum inside me, baby. Please. I wanna be filled up by you so bad.”
Her words broke the dam inside you, causing you to bury yourself as deep inside her as possible, shooting rope after rope of cum inside her perfect pussy.
Wanda just giggled, leaning up to give you one more kiss before the apparition disappeared, leaving you on top of your girlfriend once again.
Fortunately, ninety nine percent of what just happened was exclusively imaginary, existing only in Wanda’s magic bubble she had cast. You hadn’t crossed any boundaries, you hadn’t hurt your girlfriend, and you hadn’t cum inside her. Minutes had passed in Wanda’s magic haze, but only seconds had passed in real life.
You finished the job quickly that night, thinking about what just happened instead of the actual woman beneath you.
The next day, Wanda watched as your eyes kept lingering on her, flashing back to the visions she had put in your head last night. You were already hers. Wanda was winning, even if you didn’t know it yet.
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This is extremely self-indulgent and based on my own personal experiences but I can’t stop imagining Wanda helping you shave.
She’d been by your side throughout your whole transition, eagerly helping you with anything you needed. She enjoyed giving you your T injections and helping you with your scar care, but her absolute favorite thing was helping you shave.
Wanda waited for your call. You always started out doing it by yourself, but every time, sooner or later, your voice would ring out for her, "Babe? Can you come help me? There's a couple of spots I can't get."
Wanda loved it whenever you called for her; she'd practically jump up to help you. It felt so intimate. She'd sit on the bathroom counter, you standing between her legs as she cupped your jaw in one hand, using the other to gently guide the razor. You could smell her perfume, and you always instinctively leaned into her soft touch.
"Tilt your head to the side, love," she'd whisper, getting that pesky patch of hair that was right between the bottom of your earlobe and the curve of your jaw that you could never seem to get by yourself.
You did as she said, gazing down into her bright green eyes. Hers were locked on your face, searching for the remaining patches of hair. She was so focused, so meticulous in in her motions. You'd never felt so cared for. Your hands instinctively went to her thighs, grounding yourself, and making her crack that sweet smile you loved so much.
"Can you do my neck?" you'd always ask next. The neck was the worst for you. You had cowlicks, hair growing in multiple different directions, and, to make it even worse, your hair grew horizontally across your adam's apple, making shaving it without cutting yourself nearly impossible due to the tricky angle.
"Of course, handsome," she'd reply, reaching for the can of shaving cream and gently applying some to your neck. Shaving your neck was the bane of your existence, but it wasn't for Wanda. Yes, it was a challenge, but the fact that you had her do it meant that you trusted her, and that was the most rewarding feeling in the world for her.
If Wanda was meticulous before, now, she moved the razor with surgical precision. She'd heard you complain a hundred times about how tired you were of all the cuts you had on your neck after shaving, and she was determined to never leave one on you again.
She tilted your head up and slowly stretched the skin on your neck so that it was at the best angle possible, slicing away the hair that bothered you so much. Once she was done, the result was perfect, as always. Not a single blemish or hair left where you didn't want it.
She'd watch as you reached for your aftershave, biting her lip at how good you looked all cleaned up. Once you were done, she'd reach up, running her hands through what was left of your beard, and breathing in your scent, that perfect mix of aftershave and you.
"That's my man," she'd murmur, arms reaching up to wrap around your neck to pull you closer to her. Your hands would clench around her thighs, giggling as you leaned in to give her a kiss as a thank you.
Usually, your shaving sessions would end with Wanda dragging you to your bedroom, or just having you fuck her right there on the bathroom counter. Who could blame her? Wanda could never resist her man when he was all fresh and clean for her.
(Inspired by me absolutely chopping my neck up every time I shave cause my neck beard grows at the worst angles... sigh if only I had Wanda to do it for me 😔)
Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader
You're tasked with finding out what happened to Kate whilst she was missing
TW's: Minor descriptions/mentions of violence & torture, nothing graphic 😘
[A/N] AHH so some of you may have noticed I haven't posted for over a week, I explained in response to an ask yesterday but last week my writing motivation was in the gutter, then I had the most incredible weekend of my life so I decided to just have a week off. Then today I was struck with inspo and I wrote a cheeky little Kate fic which I hope you all enjoy! ❤️
You linger awkwardly in the doorway to the medbay as the medics work hard at patching up Kate. She looks rough – Clint had found her just in time after Kate had been missing for eight weeks. Any length of time missing in action is bad, but this was the longest that any Avenger had been untraceable for. Now she was malnourished, badly dehydrated and littered in cuts and bruises. When Clint had lifted her up into his arms, she’d barely registered him or that she was being moved.
Tony puts a hand on your shoulder, “I know you feel uncomfortable about this. But it’s the easiest way.”
You nudge him off your shoulder, the guilt rising in your stomach as you remember why you’re here. Not to support Kate, not to be her friend, but to use your power to shift through her memories, to see what happened to her while she was away. Tony might say it was the easiest way but for who exactly? Kate? You doubted it – this was her trauma and you were going to delve into it without her permission or knowledge. Easier for Tony no doubt to hear the information second-hand from you. There was a reason he hadn’t told Steve about this, knowing the Captain would chew him out if he knew.
You’d protested when Tony had asked but had agreed, probably far quicker than you ought to have. Because a dark, twisted part of you needed to know what happened while Kate was away. You wanted to memorise the faces of the people that had done this to her and hunt them down one by one. If anyone was going to find out what happened, you wanted it to be you. You wanted to be the first, the one who knew every gruesome detail. You wanted to take on the burden of Kate’s pain. Tony might be in this for himself but it would be easier for Kate not to have to relive the traumatic events that had occurred. That was what you’d told yourself anyway.
By the time you’re allowed inside Kate is asleep, hooked up to machines and looking peaceful despite the dark bruises on her face. Tony takes a step into the room but one hard glare from you has him holding his hands up and backing out quickly, leaving you to your work. You turn your attention back down to Kate, running your fingers gently over her forehead to brush a strand of dark hair out of her face. Your gaze turns to her lips, remembering the fairytales you’d read as a child. Maybe one kiss would be enough to fix all of this mess-
You quickly look away, your cheeks burning. Kate wasn’t your girlfriend. Not that it stopped you from thinking about her every hour of the day, glancing at her constantly during training, volunteering first whenever she was looking for a sparring buddy, making sure you sat next to her at the dinner table, or laughing the loudest at all of her jokes, including the particularly cheesy ones. Your infatuation for Kate hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone except for Kate herself apparently. Unless she just didn’t like you like that but hadn’t wanted to hurt your feelings.
Sometimes though, you’d catch her looking at you, see the way her eyes would quickly swivel away when you caught her gaze, and how she’d wipe her hands on her pants, and you’d wonder if maybe… There was something there after all. Not that it mattered, neither of you was brave enough to make the first move.
Kate was always getting herself into trouble and this wasn’t any exception. As you press your fingers to the side of her head, you’re instantly flooded with her memories – how she’d approached a gang of criminals without any back-up, nobody any the wiser that Kate had intended to do that, how they’d outnumbered her easily, carried her back to their lair. Then the torture began.
It was difficult, but you forced yourself to watch as Kate valiantly refused to give away any information despite what they did to her. It had been horrendous and Kate had screamed and cried, but whenever they began to question her again she’d just purse her lips together and breathe through her nose, fighting the pain, refusing to give anything away. For four weeks she hadn’t cracked until one day, they’d tried a different tactic. One of the men walked into the room and Kate braced herself for the usual blows, for the pain to begin, but they merely held something up for her to see. Kate’s eyes had blinked, slowly coming into focus until they’d landed on a necklace in his hand. Your necklace.
You’d had to come out of her memory for a moment, gently touching the necklace around your neck, the one that you wore every single day without fail, even on the battlefield. It hadn’t been yours – the one the man had been holding. You’d have known if it had gone missing. A good replica maybe, but it definitely hadn’t been your necklace. You look down at Kate’s sleeping face, watching the way her chest slowly rises and falls, before slowly placing your fingers on the side of her head again, letting the memories filter into your own brain.
You’d been young when you’d realised you’d possessed this ability. Your fingers had touched your younger brother’s head while he slept, and your own head had been invaded by his memories, seeing the world through his eyes. It had been difficult to sift through them at first, but you’d taught yourself, secretly practicing on your family every night. One day you’d tried when your Mom was awake, just to see if you could, and she’d pushed you off her, clutching her head in her hands. The look on her face when she realised what you could do would be burned into your brain forever. They didn’t trust you after that. You were locked in your room each night, your power a dirty secret. It had taken you years to admit your abilities to the Avengers.
Your mind focuses on the necklace in the masked assailants’ hand, his voice coming through clearly into your own head, “We have Y/N. If you do not answer our questions… Let’s just say it will end badly for her.”
Kate had taken a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly before rasping out, “I don’t believe you.”
“That is up to you. It’s your choice to make.”
Kate had folded, almost instantly. All their questions had been answered but they still hadn’t set her free. It seemed they almost delighted in tormenting her. Maybe they had a personal vendetta against her, maybe against the Avengers, or maybe they were just evil. One afternoon her captors had taunted her, “It’s your choice Kate Bishop. We can either hurt you, or we can hurt Y/N. What do you want to-”
“Me,” Kate had hissed through her teeth without hesitation. “Hurt me. Just… Leave her alone. Let her go, I told you everything you wanted to know. Please leave her alone. Please.”
Kate had endured torture for weeks, believing she’d been protecting you, unaware that you’d been safe and sound at the Avengers compound the entire time.
When they discovered Kate had managed to cut through one of her bonds, they’d threatened to go to ‘your cell’, to terminate you for her insolence. Kate had cried and begged for your life, so hard that she’d nearly vomited up the little food she had in her system. They’d retightened her restraints and had warned her not to try again or you would suffer. Kate didn’t make any more attempts to escape.
Eventually Kate’s captors had grown tired of their torment and had disappeared, leaving her alone with no food or water for two full days. Kate had been strapped down, unable to move, too weak to even call out for help. If Clint hadn’t found her when he had, she would surely be dead.
Your eyes burn as you remove your hand from her head, your vision returning to the present, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Kate’s chest. Part of you knows deep-down that Kate would’ve been hurt regardless but to know that she bore the pain in an attempt to protect you makes your heart twist painfully. Your hand drops down to her arm, running your fingers down it as softly as possible before taking her hand in yours.
Why had they used you? The obvious choice for blackmailing Kate would’ve been to pretend they had Clint. Maybe they didn’t have anything easily identifiable as his, but Yelena would’ve been an easy choice too - everyone knows how close Kate is to Natasha’s sister. Or even her beloved dog, Lucky. They could’ve picked any of the Avengers, but they’d chosen you. And Kate had crumbled instantly.
“Thank you,” You whisper, knowing that Kate can’t hear you but wanting to tell her anyway. “You shouldn’t have done that but… I would’ve done the same for you. In a heartbeat.”
“Well that’s a relief,” Tony says, running a hand through his hair. “One less thing to worry about. We’re obviously still in the process of trying to find them, but at least we know Kate didn’t give anything away.”
You’re sat opposite Tony in his office, having just given him an edited account of what happened to Kate during her captivity. Although you hadn’t downplayed any of the suffering that Kate went through, you’d omitted the parts where they’d lied to her, had convinced her you were being held captive too. Hadn’t told him that Kate had answered all of their questions, and they’d continued to torment her anyway. In your version, Kate refused until eventually the gang gave up and left her for dead.
You’d find them long before the Avengers did. Although they were masked in Kate’s memories, you’d managed to sift through and find enough identifiable details to track most of them down, which would surely lead you to the rest. And when you found them, their deaths would be slow and painful. Kate’s torture would be a drop in the ocean compared to what you had planned for them.
“I’m not doing that again,” You tell Tony. “If this happens to anyone else, you ask them what happened, or we ask for their permission if it’s too painful for them to discuss. It was a violation and you’re never to ask Kate about it.”
Tony simply nods, watching thoughtfully as you stand and leave his office.
Nobody asks Kate about what happened, and she doesn’t offer any information. At first, you’d worried that Kate would panic, would insist on telling everyone the secrets that she’d told the masked assailants, to let them know finding them should be a priority. But she hadn’t. You’d kept an eye on all internet forums, particularly on the dark web, but everything remained quiet. Whatever they planned to do with the information they’d obtained from Kate, they hadn’t leaked it yet. Not that it mattered – they’d soon be dead anyway, the secrets dying with them.
One evening you keep Kate company while the others are busy, playing a board game with her. Your counter is only a few places away from the end when Kate says quietly, “I know you know.”
You avoid her gaze, slowly picking up the dice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I thought you were- But- You were here the whole time, weren’t you?” You hesitate, keeping your gaze on the board game in front of you before you nod, just once. Kate’s own gaze drops to the blanket covering her legs as she fidgets, “I… I hoped that was the case.”
You swallow hard, “But you still didn’t risk it.”
Kate shakes her head and replies in a soft voice, “No.”
You both sit there in silence for a long moment, neither of you making a move to continue your game before you eventually ask, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you ask them for more proof?”
“I’d already lost track of how long I was there and… I was pretty out of it, I was so hungry and tired, and my throat was aching with thirst, everything hurt and… Because it didn’t matter. If there was even a chance that you could’ve gotten hurt, I wasn’t going to risk it.”
“Kate-”
“You would’ve done the same and you know it.”
“I don’t-”
“How long are we going to skirt around this, Y/N?”
Your gaze flicks up to meet hers and there it is – the looks you’ve been giving her reflected in Kate’s own eyes. The longing, the yearning. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, “I don’t know if now is the right time-”
“I nearly died Y/N. If this isn’t the right time then I don’t know when is.” Kate reaches out and takes your hand in hers, “Please. You know how I feel about you. You saw it.”
“You- You would’ve done that for anyone.”
“Offered to be hurt to spare someone else? Probably, yeah. But I wouldn’t have sold our secrets out like that. Yelena would kick my ass if she knew how quickly I caved.”
“You didn’t cave quickly though. That’s why they knew they needed to change their tactic.” You squeeze her hand, careful not to apply too much pressure in case you accidentally hurt her. “I just don’t understand why they picked me.”
“Because you’re my biggest weakness Y/N, and they knew it. Knew it even before I did. If it had been Clint or Yelena or any other Avenger in that room, I would’ve held onto those secrets, and not because I think you can’t handle your own, but because I just couldn’t risk it. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve called their bluff but you… God, you…”
Before you even realise what you’re doing, you lean forward and kiss her, relief flooding through your veins when she immediately kisses you back. One of your hands cups her cheek, your other arm moving around her waist, making sure to be careful, so careful because Kate’s still hurt and because you’ve waited so long for this, you want it to be gentle, to be loving. It’s everything you could’ve hoped for, and although it’s slow and soft, it’s also full of longing. The longing you’ve both been feeling for so long, finally coming to the surface.
When you pull away, you lean your forehead against hers, “You still shouldn’t have done that.”
“You can tell me off when I’m feeling better.”
“I wish I had healing powers instead of these stupid ones. Seeing you hurt fucking kills me.” You press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I wish I’d been the one to find you.”
“You’re here now. And you know everything and… You didn’t rat me out.” Kate’s eyes are teary and she blinks quickly. “Everyone’s going to be so mad when they find out. I told them so much-”
“It’s fine,” You tell her quietly. “I already told Tony. He said to keep it between us for now, that he’ll figure it out with Fury, but… You were under a lot of pressure Kate. Please don’t feel bad. He’s not mad at you and nobody else needs to know except for us, okay?”
The lie was worth it just to see the relieved expression on Kate’s face.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Kate asks.
You hesitate, “I uh… I’ve actually been assigned a mission that begins tomorrow.”
Another lie. You’d requested a week of last minute personal leave which Tony had granted without question; probably still feeling bad for making you sift through Kate’s memories. You were going to begin your hunt, find those motherfuckers one by one until they were all dead. They’d chosen to use you to get to Kate – you weren’t about to let them get away with that.
Kate looks disappointed and you lean over to press another kiss to her lips, “I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll pick us up some ‘Bad Pizza’ and then we can watch a movie together. Maybe you’ll feel well enough by then to leave the medbay and we could… Maybe we could spend the night in my room.”
Kate feels her cheeks heat up at the thought and she can only nod mutely. It makes you smile and you can’t resist kissing her again. “Are you mad?”
“About what?” Kate asks breathlessly against your lips.
“That I looked through your memories.”
“I can’t say I’m thrilled,” Kate admits. “But I’m glad it was you.”
“I only looked at the last few weeks,” You mumble in between giving her more quick kisses. “I promise.”
Exhaustion catches up with Kate and you help her lie down, fussing over her pillow, the blanket, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible before kissing her again. Kate gives you a small, drowsy smile as she allows her eyes to close. You sit by her bed, stroking her hair to help her drift off to sleep, your eyes burning as you remember your plan for tomorrow and the next few days.
Finding the first man would be easy. Incapacitating him, sifting through his memories, finding his shitty friends would also be easy. But the easiest part would be listening to their screams as you tore them apart, bit by bit, slowly but surely. No one messes with your girl – no one.
may I request jock g!p reader x innocent virgin nerd teacher Sophia where reader keeps making advances to Sophia. Eventually they fuck when there’s break or after school in her class
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, teacher/student relationship (both adults, 18+), g!p (futanari), loss of virginity, size kink, rough sex, creampie, semi-public risk, dirty talk, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms, light domination. Consensual but power-imbalanced. Pure smut with buildup.
The final bell rang, echoing through the quiet hallways of the old brick building. Most students had already bolted for the weekend, but you lingered in the back of Ms. Sophia LaFortezza’s literature classroom, backpack slung over one broad shoulder, letterman jacket stretched tight across your chest and arms.
Sophia stood at the front, erasing the whiteboard with careful, precise strokes. She was the kind of teacher every straight guy (and more than a few girls) fantasized about—petite, curvy in all the right places, with thick black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and long dark hair usually twisted into a neat bun. Today a few strands had escaped, framing her flushed cheeks. Her modest blouse hugged her full breasts, and her knee-length pencil skirt clung to wide hips and a round ass that made your cock twitch every single time she turned around.
You’d been making advances for weeks. Little things at first—leaning too close when asking about an assignment, letting your fingers brush hers when handing in papers, smirking when she stuttered over your name. She always blushed, adjusted her glasses, and looked away. Innocent. Virgin, you were almost certain. The thought made your thick girl-cock throb painfully against your thigh.
“Ms. Lafortezza,” you called, voice low as you approached her desk. “Got a minute?”
She turned, clutching the eraser like a shield. “Oh—um, yes, of course. What can I help you with?” Her voice was soft, a little breathy. She was trying so hard to sound professional.
You dropped your bag and stepped into her space, towering over her. “I’ve been thinking about that extra credit you offered.”
Her eyes widened behind her glasses. “Y-yes? The essay on—”
“Not the essay.” You reached out, slow enough that she could pull away, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your thumb grazed her jaw. “You.”
Sophia’s breath hitched. “I… I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“You’ve been staring at me too, teach.” You smiled, cocky but gentle. “Every time I stretch in my seat. Every time I run my hand through my hair. You bite your lip. It’s cute as hell.”
Her cheeks burned crimson. She stepped back until her ass hit the desk. “You’re my student. We can’t—”
“Door’s locked. School’s basically empty.” You closed the distance again, hands bracing on the desk on either side of her hips. “Tell me to leave and I will. But I think you want this as bad as I do.”
Sophia’s lips parted. She looked up at you—nervous, overwhelmed, pupils blown wide. “I’ve never… I mean, I don’t…”
“Never what?” you murmured, leaning down so your breath ghosted her ear. “Never been touched? Never had someone make you come?”
She whimpered. The sound went straight to your cock.
You kissed her then—slow at first, giving her time. Her mouth was soft, hesitant. She tasted like the mint tea she always drank. When she didn’t push you away, you deepened it, tongue sliding against hers. Sophia moaned into your mouth, small hands fisting your jacket.
You lifted her easily onto the desk, stepping between her thighs. The skirt rode up, revealing smooth pale skin. Your hands roamed up her sides, cupping her breasts through her blouse. She gasped, arching into you.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” you groaned. “So soft.”
Your fingers worked open the buttons of her blouse one by one. She shivered as cool air hit her skin, revealing a simple white bra. You kissed down her neck, sucking lightly at her pulse point while unhooking the bra. Her tits spilled out—heavy, full, nipples already hard little peaks.
You sucked one into your mouth, tongue swirling. Sophia cried out, hand flying to the back of your head. “Oh god—!”
You lavished attention on both breasts until she was squirming, thighs squeezing around your hips. Your hand slid under her skirt, finding plain cotton panties already soaked through.
“So wet for me already,” you murmured against her skin. “Good girl.”
She whimpered at the praise. You pushed the panties aside and stroked her slit, gathering slick before circling her clit. Sophia’s hips jerked. She was so sensitive, every touch pulling desperate little sounds from her throat.
You sank one thick finger inside her. Tight—unbelievably tight. Virgin tight. Her walls fluttered around you as you pumped slowly, curling to find that spot.
“ah—!” Her head fell back, glasses fogging slightly.
You added a second finger, scissoring gently, stretching her open while your thumb worked her clit. Her juices coated your hand, dripping onto the desk. You kissed her again, swallowing her moans as you brought her right to the edge.
Then you stopped.
Sophia whined, hips chasing your hand. “Please… don’t stop…”
“Not yet.” You pulled your fingers out and brought them to her lips. “Taste how much you want this.”
Her eyes fluttered. Hesitantly, she sucked your fingers clean, tongue swirling shyly. The sight made your cock leak pre-cum into your boxers.
You stepped back just enough to shove your pants and underwear down. Your thick girl-cock sprang free—heavy, veined, nearly nine inches, flushed dark at the tip and already dripping. Sophia’s eyes widened, mouth falling open.
“It’s… it’s so big,” she whispered, voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal.
“I’ll go slow,” you promised, stroking yourself once. “But you’re going to take every inch, baby.”
You pushed her skirt up to her waist and yanked her panties down her legs, pocketing them. Then you lined up the fat head of your cock against her dripping entrance, rubbing it up and down her slit, teasing her clit.
Sophia gripped your shoulders, nails digging in. “I’m scared it won’t fit…”
“It will. You were made for this.” You pushed forward, just the tip breaching her. She gasped sharply, walls clenching tight. You groaned at the heat, the impossible grip.
Inch by inch you sank into her, pausing every few seconds to let her adjust, kissing her softly, murmuring praise. “That’s it… good girl… taking my cock so well. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”
Halfway in she was already panting, tears pricking her eyes from the stretch. You reached between you and rubbed her clit in slow circles until she relaxed again. Finally your hips met hers—you were buried to the hilt inside the sweetest, tightest pussy you’d ever felt.
You stayed still for a long moment, letting her get used to being full. Then you started moving—long, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. The wet sounds of her pussy sucking your cock filled the classroom.
Sophia’s head lolled back, moans growing louder. “It feels… so good… oh my god—”
“Yeah? You like my big cock stretching you open?” You picked up speed, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. The desk creaked beneath her.
“Yes—yes, I like it,” she sobbed, legs wrapping around your waist. “Harder… please…”
You gave her what she asked for. You fucked her properly now—deep, powerful thrusts that made her tits bounce and her glasses slide down her nose. One hand tangled in her hair, the other holding her thigh wide. Every stroke dragged against her g-spot. Her pussy fluttered wildly around you.
“Gonna come,” she gasped. “I’m—”
“Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it.”
She shattered with a broken cry, walls clamping down like a vice. Her juices gushed around your shaft as she came hard, body shaking in your arms. You fucked her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she was limp and whimpering.
You weren’t done.
You pulled out, making her whine at the emptiness. Then you flipped her around, bending her over the desk. Her ass was perfect—round and soft. You spread her cheeks and pushed back inside in one smooth thrust. The new angle made her scream into her arm.
You pounded into her, one hand reaching around to rub her clit again. The slap of skin on skin was obscene. Her pussy was even wetter now, creamy arousal coating your cock and dripping down her thighs.
“Such a good little teacher,” you growled, leaning over her back. “Taking student cock after school like a needy slut.”
Sophia moaned louder at the dirty words, pushing back to meet your thrusts. “I—I can’t help it… you feel too good…”
You felt your own orgasm building, balls tightening. You fucked her faster, harder, the desk banging against the wall. “Gonna fill you up. Breed this tight virgin pussy.”
“Please—please come inside me,” she begged, voice hoarse.
You buried yourself deep and came with a guttural groan, thick ropes of cum flooding her womb. Sophia came again from the feeling, milking every last drop from your pulsing cock.
You stayed inside her for a long moment, both of you catching your breath. Slowly you pulled out, watching your cum leak from her ruined hole. You turned her around and kissed her gently, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“You okay?” you asked, voice softer now.
Sophia nodded, smiling shyly. “More than okay.” She reached down, curiously stroking your still-hard cock. “Can we… do it again?”
You grinned. “We’ve got the whole weekend if you want, teach.”
You lifted her onto the desk again, spreading her legs wide. Round two was slower, more sensual. You ate her out first, tongue fucking into her cum-filled pussy until she came on your face. Then you slid back inside her, rocking deep and steady while she clung to you, whispering your name like a prayer.
By the time the sun dipped lower and shadows lengthened across the classroom, you’d fucked her three more times—once with her riding you in the teacher’s chair, once against the whiteboard, and once with her on her knees sucking you clean before you painted her tits.
I liked the ceo Lara and assistant reader can you do another one where the have a kid and Lara has been trying to have sex but they keep getting interrupted by their child (not the kids fault they don’t know) so you can sense Lara sexual frustration do all her work for her then suprise her with a dinner and hotel date so they can have sex (reader obviously dropped there kid off to either Lara or readers parents) thanks
Stolen Nights
Pairing: CEO Lara Raj x Shy G!P Wife!Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, married couple with child, g!p reader, light sexual frustration, creampie, oral, affectionate smut.
The penthouse was never truly quiet anymore. Not since their daughter, Priya, turned two and discovered the joy of toddling at full speed. Lara Raj—still the driven CEO of Raj Innovations—had adapted her schedule around board meetings, product launches, and now bedtime stories. But the one thing she couldn’t schedule was time with you.
You noticed it building for weeks. The way Lara’s touches lingered a little too long in the mornings, the frustrated sighs when Priya woke up from her nap at the exact wrong moment, the hungry glances she shot you across the dinner table when your daughter was babbling about her toys.
Tonight was no different.
You were in the middle of putting Priya down when Lara slipped into the nursery, still in her work blouse and pencil skirt, hair slightly tousled from the long day. She leaned against the doorframe, watching you rock your daughter with that soft, tired smile she reserved only for family. But her eyes kept drifting to you—down your body, lingering.
Priya finally dozed off. You gently set her in the crib and crept out, closing the door softly. Lara followed you into the hallway, pressing close the second the latch clicked.
“Finally,” she murmured, hands sliding under your shirt. Her mouth found your neck, kissing with clear intent. “I need you. It’s been days.”
You groaned softly, cock already responding, but then the baby monitor crackled—Priya stirring, making small sounds. Lara pulled back with a quiet curse, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“Every single time,” she whispered, the frustration evident in her voice. She wasn’t mad at Priya—never that—but the tension was clear. “I love her more than anything, but I miss my wife.”
You hugged her tight, rubbing her back. “I know, baby. I see you.”
The next few days you quietly handled more. You took over her afternoon meetings, cleared her schedule where you could, and coordinated with both sets of grandparents. Lara was deep in a major launch, working late most nights, and the exhaustion mixed with untouched desire was wearing on her.
Friday afternoon, you sent the final text.
You: Pack an overnight bag. I’ve got everything covered.
Lara replied with a single heart emoji, but you could picture the relief on her face.
Priya was safely with your parents for the night—happy and excited for a sleepover with grandma. The hotel suite overlooked the city skyline, soft lighting and a private terrace already set with dinner. You’d ordered all her favorites: butter chicken with perfectly spiced naan, fresh mango lassi, and a bottle of her favorite wine chilling.
Lara stepped out of the elevator looking like she’d stepped off a runway—simple black dress hugging her curves, hair down in those loose waves, a fresh bindi and her Om necklace catching the light. The moment she saw the setup, her shoulders dropped and her eyes softened.
“You did all this?” she asked, voice quiet with surprise.
You shrugged, a little shy even after years together. “You’ve been carrying so much. Figured we deserved one night without interruptions.”
She crossed the room in three strides and kissed you—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. “I love you,” she breathed against your lips. “So much.”
Dinner was nice, but neither of you lasted long. Halfway through the main course, her foot slid up your leg under the table. By dessert, you were feeding her bites between kisses, her hand resting high on your thigh.
The second the plates were cleared, Lara pulled you toward the bedroom.
No rush this time. You undressed her carefully, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed—her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, the soft plane of her stomach. She did the same to you, hands exploring like it had been months instead of weeks.
When you finally laid her down on the bed, she was already wet and aching. You took your time between her thighs, tongue and lips working her slowly, savoring every quiet moan and the way her fingers tightened in your hair. Her thighs trembled around your head when she came the first time, back arching off the mattress.
“Come here,” she said afterward, voice husky as she tugged you up. “I want you inside me.”
You slid into her in one smooth thrust, both of you groaning at the feeling. She wrapped her legs around you, pulling you deeper, nails lightly scratching down your back.
“Missed this,” she whispered, meeting your thrusts. “Missed you.”
The pace stayed intimate—deep, rolling movements rather than frantic. You kissed her through it, murmuring how beautiful she was, how much you loved her, how lucky you were. Lara’s second orgasm hit her slowly, a full-body shudder as she clenched around you, pulling you over the edge with her. You came deep inside, hips grinding through the aftershocks while she held you close.
You stayed connected for a long moment, trading lazy kisses. Then you pulled out gently and cleaned her up with a warm cloth from the bathroom, earning a soft, contented hum.
Later, wrapped in the sheets with the city lights glowing through the windows, Lara traced patterns on your chest.
“I needed this more than I realized,” she admitted. “Thank you for seeing it. For making it happen.”
You kissed her forehead. “Always. We’re a team. Work, Priya, us… all of it.”
She smiled, pressing closer. “Yeah. We are.”
The night stretched on with more slow, lazy rounds—her riding you on the edge of the bed, you taking her from behind against the terrace door with the curtains half-drawn. Each time felt like reconnection, the kind of sex that reminded you why you fell for her in the first place: her strength, her warmth, the way she let herself be soft only with you.
By morning, Lara looked relaxed in a way she hadn’t in weeks—hair messy, a satisfied glow on her face as she sipped coffee on the terrace in one of your shirts.
“Think we can convince the grandparents to take her one weekend a month?” she asked, half-joking, half-serious.
You laughed, wrapping your arms around her from behind. “I’ll start working on it.”
She turned in your hold, kissing you deeply. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
You grinned against her mouth, already feeling yourself stir again. “Never thought I’d say this, but… thank god for grandparents.”
Lara’s laugh was bright and genuine—the sound you loved most. For tonight at least, the world outside the suite could wait. Your CEO wife was yours, uninterrupted, and you intended to make every minute count.
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The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city beyond the tall windows. Golden hour had bled into deep indigo, and the only light left was the warm glow of the bedside lamp and the silver spill of moonlight across the sheets. Sophia lay on her back, one leg bent, the silk of her slip riding high on her thighs. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink, and her eyes—those devastating, expressive eyes—were fixed on you with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
You stood at the foot of the bed, shirt already discarded, the heavy line of your cock straining against your sweats. She’d done that to you with nothing more than a look and a breathy whisper against your mouth twenty minutes ago: I want you to get me pregnant tonight.
The words still echoed.
Sophia shifted, the slip slipping further, revealing the smooth expanse of her inner thighs and the glistening wetness already coating her folds. She hadn’t worn anything underneath. She never did when she got like this.
“Baby,” she murmured, voice husky and sweet at once. “Come here. Please.”
You crawled over her slowly, letting her feel the weight of your presence. When your hips settled between her thighs, your cock nestled against her slick heat through the thin fabric, she whimpered. Her hands slid up your chest, nails grazing, then fisted in your hair as she pulled you down for a kiss.
It wasn’t gentle. It was open-mouthed, needy, her tongue sliding against yours like she was starving. She tasted like the strawberries she’d eaten earlier and something sweeter—pure want. You rocked against her, letting the thick length of your cock drag along her pussy, coating yourself in her arousal. Sophia moaned into your mouth, legs wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.
“Feel how wet I am?” she gasped when you broke apart for air. “All for you. For this.” Her hand slipped between you, palming the heavy bulge of your cock. She squeezed, thumb rubbing over the head through your sweats, and her eyes fluttered. “God… I’m so empty.”
You kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the plush give of her lips. “You want me to fill you up, Soph?”
She nodded frantically, lips brushing yours with every word. “Yes. Want you so deep. Want you to breed me. Please.”
The raw need in her voice made your cock twitch hard. You sat back on your heels and stripped the rest of your clothes, letting your cock spring free. Thick, flushed, the head already shiny with precum. Sophia’s gaze locked onto it like it was everything she’d ever wanted. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
She reached for you immediately, small hand wrapping around the base. She couldn’t close her fingers all the way. The sight of her delicate grip on your heavy cock always did something filthy to you.
Sophia leaned up, eyes half-lidded, and dragged her tongue from base to tip in one long, reverent stroke. She moaned at the taste of you, then took the head into her warm mouth, sucking gently. Her cheeks hollowed as she worked more of you inside, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. The wet heat, the soft swirl of her tongue, the little whimpers vibrating around your shaft—it was intoxicating.
You threaded your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just holding. “That’s it, baby. So good for me.”
She took you deeper, throat relaxing, until her nose brushed your pelvis. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she held you there, swallowing around you, drunk on the stretch and the taste. When she finally pulled off with a gasp, strings of saliva connected her swollen lips to your glistening cock.
“I need it inside,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “Now.”
You pushed her back gently onto the pillows and hooked her legs over your arms, spreading her wide. Her pussy was flushed and dripping, clit peeking out, begging for attention. You rubbed the head of your cock through her folds, teasing her entrance, coating yourself in her slick.
Sophia’s hips canted up desperately. “Don’t tease. Please, I’m aching for you.”
You pressed forward, the thick head breaching her tight heat. Inch by inch, you sank into her, groaning at the velvet grip. Sophia’s back arched, a broken moan spilling from her lips as you stretched her open. She was so wet it was obscene, the sound of you sliding home wet and filthy.
When you bottomed out, your hips flush against hers, she let out a sob of relief. Her walls fluttered and clenched around every ridge and vein.
“Full,” she breathed, eyes glassy. “So full of you…”
You stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, kissing her slow and deep. Then you began to move—long, powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. Sophia’s hands scrabbled at your back, nails digging in as she met your thrusts.
“Harder,” she begged against your mouth. “Want you to ruin me for anyone else. Want this cock to knock me up.”
The words snapped something in you. You drove into her harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Each thrust pushed her up the bed. Her breasts bounced beneath the silk, nipples hard and visible. You yanked the slip down, mouth latching onto one, sucking and biting gently as you fucked her.
Sophia cried out, fingers tangling in your hair to hold you there. “Yes—fuck—right there. Breed me, baby. Fill me until it takes.”
You switched to the other breast, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while your cock plunged deep, grinding against her cervix with every stroke. She was soaking you, creamy arousal coating your shaft and dripping down to your balls.
You could feel her getting close already—her walls tightening, her moans climbing higher. You reached between you and rubbed tight circles on her clit.
“Come on my cock, Soph. Let me feel you.”
She shattered with a sharp cry, back bowing, pussy pulsing wildly around you. Her orgasm was long and intense, thighs shaking, slick gushing out around your thrusting cock. You fucked her through it, slower but deep, savoring every flutter.
When she came down, she was even wetter, eyes dazed and adoring.
“More,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. I want your cum.”
You flipped her over onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so she was presenting for you. The sight of her like that—ass up, back arched, pussy swollen and leaking—made you throb. You gripped her hips and slid back in with one smooth thrust.
Sophia moaned into the pillow, pushing back to meet you. You set a punishing rhythm, the angle letting you hit even deeper. One hand slid up her spine to fist in her hair, the other reaching around to rub her clit again.
“Gonna fill this pretty pussy,” you growled against her ear. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be dripping for days. Gonna put a baby in you, Sophia.”
She keened, pushing back harder. “Yes—please—want your baby. Want to be swollen with you. Want everyone to know you fucked me so good.”
The words drove you wild. You fucked her harder, the bed creaking, skin slapping. Sophia’s second orgasm hit her like a wave, walls milking you rhythmically. You groaned, burying yourself to the hilt as you came, thick ropes of cum flooding her womb. You kept thrusting through it, pushing your release deeper, making sure it stayed inside.
But you didn’t stop.
You stayed hard inside her, rolling her onto her side, spooning her as you kept fucking her slowly. Your hand cupped her breast, thumb teasing her nipple. Your other hand rested possessively over her lower belly.
“Feel that?” you murmured, lips against her neck. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where our baby’s gonna grow.”
Sophia whimpered, reaching back to grip your thigh. “Don’t pull out. Keep me full.”
You made love to her like that for long minutes—slow, intimate rolls of your hips, kissing her shoulder, her jaw, whispering filthy sweet things. How beautiful she’d look pregnant. How her tits would get fuller. How you’d keep breeding her every day until it took.
She came again, softer this time, a trembling, gasping thing that had her clenching around you beautifully.
You pulled out only long enough to flip her onto her back again and push her legs up toward her chest, folding her in half. The new angle made her eyes roll back. You drove in deep, grinding, the head of your cock kissing her cervix with every thrust.
“Look at me, baby.”
Her eyes met yours, glassy and cock-drunk, lips parted on constant little moans.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you told her. “Gonna flood you. Take every drop like the good girl you are.”
Sophia nodded frantically. “Please. Breed me. Make me yours.”
You slammed in one final time and came hard, pulsing deep inside her. Sophia followed right after, her third orgasm ripping through her as she felt you fill her again. Her belly felt warm and heavy with your release.
You stayed buried inside her, collapsing gently over her body. Your mouths met in lazy, sated kisses. Sweat slicked your skin. The room smelled like sex and her perfume.
After a while, you rolled to the side, pulling her on top of you so she could rest her head on your chest. Your cock was still half-hard inside her, keeping your cum plugged deep.
Sophia traced lazy patterns on your skin, humming contentedly.
“I meant it, you know,” she whispered. “I want this. With you.”
You kissed the top of her head, hand stroking down her back to rest over her ass. “Then we’ll keep trying. Every night if you want. Until you’re carrying our baby.”
She shivered happily and clenched around you. “Good. Because I’m still so hungry for you.”
You laughed softly, already feeling yourself harden again inside her warmth. “Insatiable.”
“Only for you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your chest before starting to move her hips again, slow and sensual. “Only ever for you.”
The night stretched on—slow and deep, fast and desperate, tender and filthy. By the time the sky began to lighten outside the windows, Sophia was thoroughly fucked, thighs trembling, pussy swollen and leaking your cum, a dreamy, satisfied smile on her face as she curled into you.
And still whispering, voice hoarse and sweet:
“Again… one more time. Fill me up, baby. I want to feel it drip out of me all day.”
desperate for a mob fic where reader and natasha is married together with wanda as their little girl ☹️☹️
“no princess, you can’t get off before daddy has finished her call, now shut up and be quiet” Natasha having Wanda cockwarm her as a little entertainment because virtual meetings and paperwork is boring
“sending those pictures while you knew we were busy? what? yeah they were very pretty? gonna look even more prettier when we’re done with you”
Wanda wearing mommy and daddy’s clothing even though they are waayyy to big for her, baby just wanna be even closer to her lovers
You secretly adding sleeping pills into her nightly glass with hot tea so you and Natasha can fuck her for some time before she wakes up (she has agreed to this ofc, consent is key!!) “yeah we know princess, you just get so sleepy you can’t even keep up with us?”
Teaching her how to properly masturbate before quickly adding it as a rule to never touch her self without one of you present (she breaks this rule alle the time)
Spoiling her with expensive clothes only to rip them open to fuck her because she just looked a little too good in them “it’s not our fault you just look so fuckable in that skirt baby, that’s your own fault.” (the amount of ripped panties she has is insane)
Wanda insisting that she can top one of you, but quickly fails to do so. Baby just needs that pleasure and comfort from the both of you
Having her in a collar whenever she’s home, at your office or at any social gathering (hidden ofc), just to make sure whoever dares to touch or look at her, knows that baby is owned
Having a close friend - Maria or Carol, maybe both, take care of her (fuck her into unconscious) while Natasha and you are out on work trips, and then using it against her when they’re back home “Does Maria fuck you good like this Wanda? No? They fuck you even better? Looks like me and daddy gotta show you who really owns you.”
Baby wanting to be treated like a baby (due trauma) and absolutely going feral when you mention lactation pills. getting sososo excited when the milk finally starts coming “look at you baby, happy to be cared for by mommy again?” (is it the writer or wanda who has that kink? both? yeah)
Tying her up in your bedroom for hours with a vibe on low setting for hours for absolutely no reason (baby has a safe word and knows when to use it)
Lara with her friends as she is waiting for reader to pick her up but her friends ask her why is she dating someone like that when she is a cheerleader and that reader is like scary loser and tell Lara she should date a jock but lara goes on to explain that reader isn’t scary they a big softie when they are around her and that reader treats her right like by getting her flowers making her smile when see feels down and just listens to her and explains that reader is better then ex jocks she used to date in bed aswell and then reader comes with flowers to pick her up leaving thoses girls stunned
Soft Spot
Pairing: G!p Shy Loser reader x Cheerleader Lara Raj
Warnings: Explicit smut (18+), g!p, oral sex, penetrative sex, praise, established relationship, fluff-to-smut. All characters are adults.
The late afternoon sun painted the football field in warm gold, catching on the glossy red-and-white of the cheer squad’s uniforms as they finished practice. Lara Raj stood at the edge of the track, ponytail swinging as she laughed at something one of her teammates said. Her skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat, the cropped top clinging just enough to remind anyone watching exactly why she was captain. She checked her phone again—almost time.
“Seriously, Lara,” Mia drawled, flipping her hair as she stretched her hamstrings. “How do you do it? We see you with her and it’s like… what happened to the old Lara? The one who dated actual athletes?”
Lara’s smile didn’t falter. She slipped her phone into her duffel. “What happened is I got tired of athletes who thought ‘dating’ meant showing up late, smelling like Axe, and expecting head because they scored a touchdown.”
The group laughed, but Sarah leaned in, voice low and conspiratorial. “Okay but real talk? She’s… intense. Always in those hoodies, barely talks to anyone. People call her the scary loser behind the bleachers. You’re you. You could have any jock on campus.”
Lara’s eyes softened, a private little smile playing on her lips. She thought of quiet evenings, of your long fingers gently tracing her spine, of the way your voice dropped to a whisper when you admitted how much you loved making her feel good. “She’s not scary,” Lara said simply. “She’s shy. There’s a difference. When it’s just us, she’s the biggest softie you’ve ever met. Brings me flowers just because. Remembers when I had a bad day and shows up with my favorite snacks and lets me rant for hours without trying to ‘fix’ it. She listens. None of the ex-jocks ever did that.”
Mia raised an eyebrow. “Flowers are cute and all, but—”
“And in bed?” Lara continued, voice dropping just enough that the girls had to lean in. Heat touched her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. “She’s better than every single one of them. Patient. Attentive. She makes me feel wanted in ways they never could. They were all ego and jackhammering. She… she worships. Makes me come so hard I forget my own name, then holds me after like I’m the most precious thing in the world. So yeah. I’m good.”
The group fell quiet, stunned into a rare silence. Before anyone could recover, your familiar beat-up silver Civic pulled up along the curb. You stepped out—shoulders slightly hunched like you were trying to disappear into your oversized black hoodie, dark hair falling into your eyes. In your hands was a small bouquet of pale pink peonies wrapped in brown paper, the kind Lara had mentioned liking once months ago.
Lara’s entire face lit up.
She jogged over without hesitation, duffel bouncing against her hip, and threw her arms around your neck. You froze for half a second—the shy reflex—then melted, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other kept the flowers safe.
“Hey, baby,” Lara murmured against your ear. “You brought my favorites.”
Your cheeks flushed dark. “Saw them at the shop. Thought… you might like them after practice.” Your voice was low, almost hesitant, like you still couldn’t believe someone like Lara would want you here, in public, where everyone could see.
From the field, the cheer squad stared openly.
Lara kissed you softly, right there, slow and sweet and unhurried. When she pulled back, she took the flowers and tucked one behind her own ear with a grin. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The drive to Lara’s apartment was quiet in the best way. Your hand rested on her thigh, thumb stroking gentle circles over warm skin. Every few minutes Lara would lean over and press a kiss to your jaw, your temple, the corner of your mouth, until you were smiling so wide it hurt.
Inside the apartment, the door barely clicked shut before Lara was on you—pushing you against the wall, hands sliding under your hoodie to map the soft skin beneath. You made a soft, surprised sound that went straight between her legs.
“You were so good today,” Lara whispered, nipping at your bottom lip. “Standing there in front of my friends with flowers like you didn’t care what they thought. So fucking hot.”
Your breath hitched. “I just… wanted to see you smile.”
“You always make me smile.” Lara tugged your hoodie up and off, letting it drop. Her fingers traced the faint lines of muscle on your stomach, the way your body tensed and shivered under the touch. “Let me take care of you tonight, yeah?”
You nodded, eyes dark and glassy already.
You didn’t make it to the bedroom.
Lara guided you to the couch, pushing you down gently. She peeled off her own cheer top, revealing the sports bra underneath, then shimmied out of the skirt. You watched like you were witnessing something holy—eyes wide, lips parted, hands flexing on your own thighs as if afraid to touch.
Lara straddled your lap, grinding down slowly against the growing bulge in your sweats. “Feel that?” she murmured, rolling her hips in a languid circle. “That’s what you do to me. Just seeing you waiting for me.”
A broken little moan escaped you. Your hands finally moved, sliding up her back, unclasping her bra with practiced care. When Lara’s breasts spilled free, you leaned in immediately, mouth hot and reverent on one nipple, tongue circling before sucking gently. Lara arched, fingers threading through your dark hair, holding you close.
“Fuck, baby… just like that.”
You switched sides, lavishing the same attention, one hand cupping the other breast, thumb brushing the sensitive peak. Lara could feel you getting harder beneath her, thick and insistent. She reached down and palmed you through the fabric, stroking the length until you whimpered against her skin.
“Want you in my mouth,” Lara said, already sliding down to her knees between your spread thighs.
She tugged your sweats and boxers down together. Your cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of pre-cum already glistening. Lara licked her lips. She loved this part: the way your hips twitched, the shy way you tried not to thrust up immediately.
Lara wrapped her hand around the base and leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the shaft before swirling her tongue around the head. The taste was salty-sweet, familiar. She took you deeper, cheeks hollowing, eyes flicking up to watch your face contort in pleasure. One of your hands came to rest lightly on her head—not pushing, just holding, thumb stroking her cheek like she was something precious even while she had your cock down her throat.
“God, Lara… you’re so—fuck—so good,” you gasped, voice wrecked.
Lara hummed around you, taking you deeper until her nose brushed dark curls. She bobbed slowly, savoring every inch, every choked moan. When she pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening head, you looked utterly gone.
Lara stood, shedding her panties and climbing back into your lap. “Inside me. Now.”
Your hands gripped her hips, helping guide her. The first press of your thick head against her slick entrance made you both moan. Lara sank down inch by inch, feeling herself stretch around you—full, perfect, overwhelming in the best way. When she bottomed out, hips flush, she stayed there a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing the same air.
“You feel incredible,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Always so warm… so tight for me.”
Lara kissed you deeply and started to move—slow rolls of her hips at first, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every downward stroke. The drag was exquisite, every ridge and vein felt in perfect detail. Your hands roamed her back, her ass, squeezing and guiding but never taking control. You let her set the pace, let her chase what she needed.
Gradually the rhythm built. Lara rode you harder, breasts bouncing, moans spilling freely. Your mouth found her neck, sucking marks that would be hidden under her uniform tomorrow. One hand slipped between you, thumb circling her clit in tight, perfect strokes.
“Baby—fuck—right there,” Lara panted. She could feel the pressure coiling tight, her thighs starting to shake.
You thrust up to meet her now, hips snapping with surprising strength. “Come on, love. Let me feel you. Please.”
The plea tipped her over. Lara came with a sharp cry, clenching hard around your cock, pleasure crashing through her in waves. You fucked her through it, gentling your thrusts until she slumped against your chest, panting.
But you were still hard, throbbing inside her.
Lara kissed you lazily. “Bedroom. I want you on top.”
You stumbled there together, laughing softly when you nearly tripped over your own sweats. On the bed Lara lay back, legs spread, reaching for you. You crawled over her, kissing down her body—collarbones, breasts, the soft plane of her stomach—before settling between her thighs.
You pushed back in with one smooth thrust, burying yourself to the hilt. The new angle made Lara’s back arch. You set a deep, steady rhythm, hips rolling like you wanted to stay inside her forever. Every stroke dragged perfectly against that spot inside that made stars burst behind her eyes.
“Look at me,” you whispered.
Lara did. The eye contact was devastating—your gaze soft and adoring even as your cock drove deep, stretching her so perfectly. Lara wrapped her legs around your waist, heels digging into your back, urging you deeper.
“Harder, baby. I can take it.”
You groaned and gave her what she wanted—stronger thrusts, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. You hooked one of her legs over your shoulder, opening her wider, pounding into her with a rhythm that had the headboard knocking against the wall.
Lara came again, harder this time, nails raking down your back. The clench pulled you over with her—thick, hot pulses deep inside as you moaned her name like a prayer, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
You stayed locked together, breathing hard. You pressed soft kisses to Lara’s face—her eyelids, her nose, her swollen lips—then carefully pulled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her close.
Lara tucked herself against your chest, listening to your heartbeat slow. “Told my friends you’re better than any jock,” she murmured, tracing idle patterns on your stomach. “They didn’t believe me.”
You let out a shy, breathless laugh. “They probably think I kidnapped you or something.”
Lara grinned, tilting her head up for another kiss. “Let them think what they want. I know exactly who I’ve got.” Her hand drifted lower, wrapping loosely around your softening cock, giving it a gentle, affectionate stroke. “And I’m keeping her.”
You hid your face in her neck, embarrassed and pleased and so obviously in love it made her chest ache in the best way.
Outside, the world could keep its opinions. Inside, there was only this—soft touches, quiet laughter, and the kind of heat that built slow and burned long.
The next morning Lara woke to the smell of coffee and the sight of you in her kitchen, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and boxers, carefully arranging more flowers in a vase. Sunlight caught in your messy hair. You looked soft. Safe. Hers.
Lara padded over, wrapped her arms around you from behind, and pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades.
“Morning, my shy loser.”
You turned in her arms, cheeks pink, and kissed her like the world outside didn’t exist.
summary - reader gets injured during a mission and is frustrated by their need for help with everyday tasks during their recovery. wanda is determined to get reader to accept the help they need.
pairing - wanda maximoff x reader
word count - 1.6k+
author's notes - reader is gender neutral but implied to be feminine presenting. they also have hair long enough to braid and clip back. photo on the right represents wanda, not reader. this may not be representative of all hair types, so i apologize for that! this is my first ever fic so my writing definitely isn't perfect, but i hope you enjoy!
tags - established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, injured!reader, non-sexual intimacy
The last eleven days had been pure nightmare fuel for you.
You got shot on a mission in Morocco. The team was recovering decade-old black market Stark tech— relics, really, but still incredibly dangerous. Tony had known for years that there was unused Stark weaponry still floating around, under the radar, so he was relieved to finally have a lead on some of it. Plus, the mission was easy. So easy. Show up, kick ass, confiscate the weapons, and bring them back.
Unfortunately for you and the rest of the team, you showed up in the middle of an arms deal. This meant: double the amount of guns, and double the amount of people using them to shoot at you.
You had been stuck behind a pillar, boxed in by three gunmen. Bullets cracked the pillar, as you waited for the perfect moment to fire back. You took out two of the gunmen, laid some cover fire, and ran to the next pillar for a better vantage point. A stupid decision, really. You and the last gunman didn’t have a shot at each other. If you had waited another ten seconds, he would have moved instead, and you could have safely taken him out. But instead, you risked it, and got shot in the shoulder just a second before you ducked behind the next pillar.
It was fine. Everything worked out fine. Steve showed up and threw the guy into the wall, or whatever. You did lose a lot of blood and kind of almost died, but you didn’t… so, great. You just felt like an idiot. You were trained to be better than this. You didn’t get shot.
Until you did.
Suffice to say, the last week and a half had been absolutely miserable.
Bedrest was one thing. Sure, it sucked to be confined to a bed for two days— unless you had to piss or shower— but it was kind of nice to rest. You got to watch a lot of movies. And Natasha didn’t bang on your door every morning at 6 AM for training. That was refreshing.
The worst part was being very nearly helpless. Your dominant arm was the one that was injured, making your predicament even worse.
You couldn’t open jars or cut anything, which meant you needed help cooking, which Wanda happily volunteered for.
You couldn’t tie your shoes.
Wanda.
You couldn’t zip a jacket.
Wanda.
You couldn’t braid your hair.
Wanda.
In fact, it was hard to get dressed, or undressed, in any capacity, something else that your ever-patient girlfriend had to help you with almost every single day. Sometimes you could painstakingly shrug your shirts on one sleeve at a time, but putting pants on— without two hands to hold them up— was a nightmare. You could barely even do your own paperwork, since your non-dominant hand wrote like a toddler and typed slower than a snail. Never did you think that not doing paperwork would be frustrating, but here you are. Instead of asking for help and dictating, you spent an eternity typing one key at a time. Embarrassingly, eating with a fork or spoon and brushing your teeth were both things that culminated in you looking like a messy baby with no fine motor skills. You refused to let Wanda help with either of those things, though. You ate alone when you could, generally trying to spare yourself the embarrassment of the team knowing you were struggling.
You could barely manage to do anything alone, unless you were doing nothing at all.
You couldn’t even wash your own hair.
That was probably the worst part. You hated for your hair to feel unclean at all, and all the dry shampoo in the world just didn’t cut it. Wanda had initially braided your hair and clipped it out of your face, which helped for a while, but it but starting to look rough. It was impossible for you to feel put together if your hair looked like crap, and your hair hadn’t been washed since before the mission. You had been avoiding burdening Wanda even more than you already were, but she knew you too well.
“Detka, please let me help you,” she pleaded, her tone gentle, but insistent.
“My love, I’m fine, I promise,” you sighed, “I’ll get to it in a few days when my arm is a little better.”
She whirled around from her position folding laundry on the other side of your room. The sun was setting, though it was early in the evening. You hated winter, you thought to yourself.
“You’re not supposed to raise your right arm that high for another month, you know that.” Wanda crossed her arms, clearly frustrated with your constant refusal of help. Though, it didn’t matter how many times you refused, she always helped anyways. Her green eyes bored into you as you groaned, drew your knees to your chest, and hid your face. “I can see that you’re miserable, please let me help,” she said, her tone softening as she crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. A gentle hand came to rest on your knees as she waited patiently.
You sit in silence like a pouting child, feeling her reassuring touch and trying not to give in. A few moments pass.
“…Okay,” you concede. Wanda smiles as you look back up at her. Soft brown locks of hair fell gently across her worn sweater—your sweater, you realized. It looked better on her. You winced slightly as you sat up, your shoulder’s position shifting. There was a constant, dull ache that you had gotten used to, but one wrong movement sent it blazing. You followed her into the bathroom joined to your room and leaned awkwardly against the counter while she turned the water on and adjusted the temperature. Wanda undid your braids gently, and took out the pink and red hair clips she had previously adorned your hair with. She helped you take off your sling, then your long-sleeved shirt, your sweatpants, and your undergarments and socks. Stepping into the shower, you looked over as Wanda turns to take her clothes off as well. You admired her— not very subtly— and she faked a scandalized gasp when she noticed.
“Pervert!” she exclaimed, and you giggled at her.
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” you rebutted as she joined you under the warm water. Wrapping her arms around you, she leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. You stayed in her embrace for as long as you could before she remembered the reason you were showering together.
“Tilt your head back,” she murmured, and you listened. You let the warm water rush over your scalp and soak your neglected hair. It felt good. For a second, you wondered why you hadn’t let this happen sooner. Wanda squirted a generous amount of shampoo into her palm, then lathered it in her hands until it foamed up. She began to gently massage it into the roots of your hair at your scalp. Tension that you never realized was there began to melt away. Wanda moved on to conditioner, then grabbed a loofa, which she lathered in your vanilla body wash.
By the time both of you got out of the shower, squeaky clean, you had realized how exhausted you were.
Wanda wrapped you in a towel, then herself, and went to fetch pajamas for you both. She left your walk-in closet just a minute later with your favorite oversized crewneck —worn out from years of love—, your softest pajama pants, and a pair of fluffy socks. Helping your arms through the sleeves of your sweater, she noticed the pained expression on your face, and you avoiding eye contact.
“Your shoulder?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
“Yeah,” you sighed.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s not that bad,” you blatantly lied. It throbbed, and every slight shift of your back or arm set it on fire.
“Let me feel,” Wanda pleaded with you, not buying into your attempts to dissuade her. Concerned eyes peered into yours as you looked back up at her. You nodded your head slightly.
Wanda’s hand glided up your arm and to the back of your shoulder. A tingling sensation spreaded through the still-healing entry wound, and you felt it radiate through your scapula and down the top of your arm. Her eyes closed as she worked her magic through the area, feeling what you felt. She winced, and her eyebrows furrowed.
“Sladká dívka,” her soft green eyes opened and she looked up at you, frowning, “why didn’t you tell me?”
You chewed on your lip while you tried to figure out what to say.
“I just— I…” you grappled for your words, “You’ve… been doing everything for me and I didn’t want you to worry any more.” Avoiding her eyes, you stared intently at your chipped nail polish. Wanda took both of your hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over your knuckles.
“It’s not a burden to me to help you,” she murmured, “it’s not your fault that you need help with things right now. You’re hurt.”
“It is my fault though,” you protested, your eyes lifting to meet hers, “I fucked up. I’m not supposed to fuck up.”
“…So you’ve been refusing my help because you think you failed by getting hurt?”
You looked back down and paused for a moment. It sounded childish, and stupid, when she put it like that. Maybe she was right, though. For the last week and a half, you had felt guilty for how much help you needed from the people around you, especially Wanda. You were used to being self-sufficient, almost chronically independent. Everything in you hated having to depend on others at every second of every day.
“…I don’t know, I’m just not used to needing so much help,” you admitted, “I know you don’t mind helping me, but I guess I just thought it would be easier for you if you didn’t have to do as much.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
“Detka, you’re not inconveniencing me. Helping you doesn’t make anything harder for me, “she reassured gently, “What is hard for me is seeing you struggling, and in pain, and refusing help despite it.”
Your eyes prickled as you attempted to swallow the lump rising in your throat. Logically, you knew that was how she felt, but hearing it was another thing completely. You sniffled, focusing on her crimson painted nails. A tear slipped down your cheek and was wiped away softly by Wanda.
“Will you— can you help me?”
“Of course, my love."
“...Will you braid my hair?”
dividers by mieluno
thanks for reading! sorry for ending it kind of abruptly, i lost my motivation to write lol
Pairing: assistant!wanda maximoff x gnCEO! reader x (eventually) gpCEO! natasha romanoff
Story summary: Wanda has been your partner ever since you proposed your feelings for her years ago. However, when your nemesis and old fling Natasha Romanoff comes with a proposition, you’re unsure off what to answer.
Content warning: semi public smut, sex toys, strap on, mommy kink, heavy sub/dom dynamics (let me know if something is missing.
Chapter 1 of Empire of Us
A/n: this is a possible series i’m thinking of writing, please let me know if you’d read it!
Her high heals clicks as she walks her way to your office. You’ve asked her to pick up lunch, and since her work title is ‘assistant,’ she obliged.
Knock knock.
Even though she’s your girlfriend she still feels to need to respect your privacy, always eager to please. “Doors open,” comes muffled through the door. Carefully, to not make any noise, she opens the door and closes it right behind her. “Avocado toast, as you requested.”
You turn around in your chair “My perfect girl, knows just what i want,” you smile to her as you gesture her to peek your lips. Everyone in the building knew you were together, but Wanda still wanted to be treated as a normal employee. She didn’t want people to think she got her job by sleeping with you. So when the doors were open for every eye to spy, she got the same treatment as everyone else, sometimes you found yourself giving her harsher treatment just because you know it turns her on.
Nevertheless, when the doors are closed and curtains cover the windows, the beast unleashes. “The queue took forever, so that sandwich better be good,” sasses out of her mouth before she kisses you. A smirk forms on your lips. “Making orders now? Who’s the boss in this building?”
You drag her down on your lap and meet her eyes. “I-i didn’t,” Wanda stutters as she tries to avoid your gace. You chuckle as you roll your chair over to your desk and open the drawer. The drawer.
Wanda shakes her head and starts mumbling something about having lots of work to do, but you beat her to it. “Romanoff industries just had a big release and it was fucking successful. All everyone is talking about is how close she is to beating me. We can’t have that happen can we?” Wanda shakes her head in disagreement.
“Good girl,” you pat her head as you take out the red strap. “Now, let mommy take out her frustration, m’kay? I’ll tell everyone you were busy running errands for me.” Wanda moans quietly as she slowly starts humping your thigh.
You grap her hips and start guiding her as picks up her pace. “You like making a mess on mommy’s pants? What if mommy doesn’t have any change?” Wanda snaps out of it.
“I didn’t know, mommy!” Wanda climbs of your lap and starts pacing around your office. She starts ranting about solutions till you interpret her. “Wanda, baby, I was only joking. Of course I have change in my office,” you laugh as you turn Wanda slightly around and slowly massages her boobs. “You stress to much baby, just turn your pretty brain of and let mommy think.”
A moan in agreement is all you need. “Help mommy strip baby.” Wanda eagerly starts dragging your clothes of, like an animal in heat. Before you know it, you’re standing in your office butt naked. Wanda sits down on her knees, ready for her next command. “Now, mommy can’t be the only one without clothes?”
You drag your finger along Wanda’s check as she clothes her eyes and sighs. She has begun to undress - slowly as she chases the feeling of your skin. “Much better,” you pick Wanda up and carry her over to your desk.
The strap is sitting next to her, red and big. Wanda clenches her thighs as she watches you put it on. “Help mommy get it ready, would you?” You pull her hair into your fist and guide her to the shaft.
“That’s a good girl, taking mommy’s cock so well..” Tears have started streaming down her face as you guide her further on the strap. You pick up the pace before holding her still. “Shhh.. can’t have you come by humping my foot, can we?” Wanda looks up at you confused. Poor thing hadn’t even registered that she had started humping.
Slowly you drag her off the shaft and push her onto the wall nearby. Wanda closes her eyes as she prepares for the strap to line up, only for her head to be dragged back and mouth forced open. You push a gag ball into her mouth and fasten it around her head. “I know how loud you are when your greedy cunt gets stuffed.”
Wanda arches her back and starts lining her cunt up on your ‘cock’. “Greedy little girl, calm down, mommy will give you what you want,” as you harshly push the strap in. As Wanda starts making incoherent noises you slap her left ass cheek. “You stay quiet right this moment, or mommy will pull out.”
The rest of the strap goes in without issues, and you start off with a torturing slow pace. “Let mommy build it up,” your fingers trail down till you find her clit and start massaging slowly.
Your pace picks up and Wanda does everything in her might to stay quiet. She feels the familiar feeling down deep in her stomach start to build. Almost there-
You pull out.
Wanda’s head turns so fast it could’ve fallen off. Her eyes meet yours and you can see that she’s full on crying. “Mommy’s so mean, hmm?” She nods in agreement. You chuckle as you pull of her gag. “I’ve changed my mind, I want to hear you come, but if you even think about making a sound before you come I’ll edge for the rest of the week, okay?’ Wanda nods eagerly. “Words, sweet thing, I need your voice here.”
“Yes mommy, I won’t make a sound, just please fuck me!” You pick her up and sit back down in your office chair. “I won’t be doing a single thing Wanda,” you pull her down on her shaft, “I’ll let you come, but you’ll do all the work yourself.”
Wanda begins to protest, but figures out that this is better than nothing. She starts off at a fast pace, up and down. She puts her head in the crock of your neck and starts sucking. You never said anything about marks.
You stroke her back as you start to feel your own orgasm building up. After having been with Wanda for 5 years, you knew damn well that she can’t make her self come. So, you open up the drawer further and take out the wand. Your girlfriend is so busy trying to come that she doesn’t register that you have started the wand.
She screams loudly as you place the head on her clit. “Last warning, one more sound and you’re done.” The wand is currently on the lightest setting, but you plan on getting quite a few orgasms out of Wanda, so you put it up 3 notches.
Wanda’s breathing is getting uneven, so you know that she has max 30 seconds before she finishes. You move one of your hands onto her right breast and start pinching her nipple. Her legs are shaking and she taps your back three times as a request to come. “Release baby, come for mommy.”
You put the wand down as she rides out the orgasm. She sighs in relief as she collapses onto your lap. Wanda feels her body getting picked up and tries to pull out of your strap. “Don’t even think that i’m done with you baby, mommy knows you have more orgasms in you.”
Natasha Romanoff likes to think the she has it all. Keyword, think. Her company is finally surpassing you, she has a good reputation and money has never been a problem + her cat, Liho, is more cuddly than ever. But, even though she has her cat, she’s missing someone to be intimate with.
No, not the lovey dovey kind, but someone to fuck the brains out of and maybe cuddle. Nothing more, nothing less. Natasha could for sure find someone that would fulfill that, but if there’s one lesson she has learnt, is that one shouldn’t trust strangers. So, when she found her self incredibly horny and having no one to take it out on, she thought of you. Her old fling.
You two hadn’t worked out because you both needed to take control and she did not want a relationship and settle. So, you parted ways and sort off became nemesis, at least on the paper. Truth to be told, you two talked often, and it wasn’t business talk. Because even though you didn’t workout as girlfriends, you worked perfectly fine as friends. That’s how Natasha learned about your sweet little Wanda.
Your coworkers knew about Wanda, but the rest of the world didn’t. A part of the contract you make them sign is a strict NDA. Wanda was scared to be exposed as your girlfriend to the world, scared of what people might say about her. So you two had agreed to keep it secret. Whenever reporters brought up that she always joined you on trips, you had the excuse of her being your assistant.
Anyways, back to Natasha.
Natasha had asked to meet you and was currently outside your office. She had gotten quite the stares, but no one had said anything. But, she had found herself outside your office for quite the time. Natasha had good hearing, and even thought Wanda thought she was quiet, she heard. After sometime, Natasha got impatient and knocked. “It’s open.”
The office reeked off sex. In the office sofa Natasha could see Wanda sleeping under a blanket, and you sat in your office chair, fixing your tight bun. “Natasha, nice of you to finally come, our meeting was supposed to start 30minutes ago, yes?” Natasha smirks before answering; “Wouldn’t wanna intrude the good times with your girl.”
“What if I wanted you to join?” You two stared at each other for a long time before laughing. “I’m sorry for making you wait, I got caught up. What can I help you with?”
As Natasha explains her wish, you stare at her. Mostly in shock. Many might have called you crazy for even considering this, you honestly got turned on by the idea. You knew that you have lots of business trips upcoming that Wanda wouldn’t be able to attend, and the idea of Wanda touching her self wasn’t exactly pleasing.
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Summary: After Wanda messes with her mind and makes her relive the Red Room Natasha finds comfort not in Bruce, her current fling, but in her ex Y/n, who she never should have let go of. Lucky for her, that's exactly who Clint called.
Authors note: this probably isn't my best writing but I enjoyed the idea
Warnings: brief mentions of Nat and Bruce 🤢, hurt/comfort, regret, soft smut(groping, fingering), R fucked her but hasn't yet forgiven her
Word count: 1,765
Natasha Masterlist Marvel Masterlist
When you arrived at this farmhouse in the middle of nowhere after Clint called you didn’t know what to fully expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. The entire team looks like they're somewhere else, completely zoned out with looks of fear or trauma on their faces. It was unnerving to say the least
"Thanks for coming" Clint greets
You shrug, "You know I'm always here for her, but I'm not sure she'll want to see me"
"Trust me Y/n, you're the best thing for her right now"
"What about Bruce?" you ask, a bit of disdain in your tone
"He uh, he left" Clint tells you, "They talked, it didn't go well."
"How bad?"
"She opened up about the Red Room and he left." he explains
"What a bastard"
"Yeah, but lets be honest here Y/n, whatever she had with him, it wasn't real. Not like you and her. It was just a distraction, a way to shove the pain she felt about leaving you into the back of her mind and heart"
"You don't know that" you tell him, trying hard not to think about what once was
"I'm her best friend, you really think she didn't confide in me? You think I haven't heard her pain and regret for what she did? You think I haven't held her as she cried about her mistake, you think I haven't urged her to fix it?" he asks, not really wanting you to answer, "But you know her, she's stubborn and she doesn't think she deserves anything good. So she settled for Bruce"
"She still chose him instead of me" you mumble, "So there must've been something there, some feelings"
"Yeah, self hatred and pity. There's no love between them. Bruce is infatuated and Nat is just there to not think about what she did to you" he explains, "Now, she's upstairs. Third door on the right"
You take a deep breath and head inside. As you walk up the stairs you try to calm your racing thoughts and racing pulse. Finally you come to the door and give a gentle knock
"I'm not up for company" she mumbles through the door
You swallow thickly before managing a reply, "That's not what I heard"
The door opens so fast its a miracle it wasn't ripped off it's hinges, and Natasha stands there looking like she's seen a ghost. She just stands there, chest heaving as she looks at you. It's almost like she's afraid you'll disappear if she stops looking at you
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks, "Y/n?"
"Hi Tasha" you greet with a soft smile
She practically launches herself at you and wraps her arms around you so tightly that you feel the air get squeezed out of your lungs. She nuzzles her face against your neck and you can feel her warm tears against your skin. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around her and keep her close
"Tell me you're really here, tell me this is real." she whispers so softly that you hardly catch it
"It's real Tasha. I'm here" you assure her, "I've got you"
She lets out a small choked sob and her fingers clutch at your shirt. You can tell she's in need of actually feeling her emotions for once so you gently lead her back into the room and over to the bed. You sit her on the edge and tuck some hair behind her ear. She looks up at you with tear filled eyes and you feel your heart tug at the sight
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" You ask, thinking the answer would be what it always was. But to your surprise it wasn't
"We ran into an individual with powers. She can get into people's minds, make them see things. She got all of us. I don't know what the others saw but I know it was nothing good"
"What did you see?" You gently ask
She's quiet for long enough that you think she won't answer but finally she speaks, "The Red Room. My training, the graduation ceremony….it's like I was there all over again"
"Oh Tasha" you coo sympathetically. You reach up and cup her face, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. And I'm sorry Bruce left you to deal with it alone"
Her breath catches in her throat and she lets out a small whimper, "I don't care about him. He was just a distraction, a way to forget how I hurt you. I never loved him"
You can't believe she's actually admitting that to you, "What?"
"I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm so damn sorry" she sobs as tears stream down her face, "Breaking us up was the worst fucking mistake of my life, I regret it everyday. I'm so sorry"
You pull her into your embrace and let her fall apart in your arms. One of your hands rubs her back while the other cards through her hair. She shakes in your hold and cries, actually cries, and you just keep holding her
Eventually she calms down, though her breathing is still ragged and tears are still rolling down her cheeks, she's at least not hyperventilating or sobbing uncontrollably anymore. You continue to hold her and rub her, trying to soothe her in whatever way you could
"I never stopped loving you" she whimpers against your skin, "Never stopped wanting you"
Your heart thumps against your chest and you take in a deep breath, "Tasha…."
"It's okay" she sniffles, "Its okay if you moved on, if I'm too late in telling you all this. I just….I needed you to know that despite my actions my love never faded"
You shake your head and are silent for a moment before you admit to her, "I never moved on. I could never move on, you were it for me Tasha"
"I still could be" she whispers, "I know I hurt you, but god Y/n, I miss you so much and I regret hurting you and breaking us up every damn day. I miss you so much it hurts and I'm so tired of pretending otherwise."
You simply stare at her, both due to the surprise of her statement and the fact that you currently have no idea what to choose, what to say. And though it makes sense that you'd take your time to answer her, it still makes her nervous
"Please Detka(baby), please give me another chance. Please let me make this, make us right" she pleads as she grasps onto one of your hands, "Please"
You don't answer her with words. Instead you cup her face, letting your thumbs brush over the apples of her cheeks. She lets out a shaky breath as you lean in, and then you press your lips against hers. She melts into the kiss and her fingers thread through the hair at the nape of your neck to pull you impossibly closer. She opens her mouth, letting you deepen the kiss and her free hand moves to untie her robe
"Whoa, slow down Tasha" you mumble against her lips, "You've just been through something traumatic"
"Which is exactly why I need this, need you." she explains, "I need to feel you, need to be with you. Please"
The look in her eyes, one of a desperate and pure need has you giving in immediately, "Okay baby, okay"
She lets the front of her robe slide open, revealing her creamy skin and breasts to your hungry gaze. You eagerly let your hands trail over her skin, re-familiarizing yourself with her body then you let them grope the swell of her breasts. She lets out a soft moan and pushes her chest further into your touch
"I've missed you Detka(baby), I've missed you so much" she softly admits
"I've missed you too Tasha" you tell her as you let your thumbs brush over her nipples.
She shudders at the contact, "Don't tease. Not today, I need you so bad"
Instead of continuing to tease her you position yourself behind her on the bed, pressing your front against her back and trail a few kisses against the side of her neck, "Spread your legs for me"
She listens without hesitation and opens her thighs wider, "Please Y/n"
You reach around her and trail your fingers against her core, "You're so wet already"
"Can't help it" she whimpers, "I need you"
"I know, and I need you too Tasha" you tell her as you push two of your fingers inside her already dripping heat
She lets out another small moan as her walls clench down around your digits and she clutches onto your arm to anchor herself. You start thrusting your fingers in slow deep strokes and curl them just right against her most sensitive spot
"Oh god, yes" she moans, letting her head lean back against your shoulder, "Just like that, please don't stop"
"I won't stop baby" you assure her, continuing at the same pace
It isn't long before her legs start to tremble and her chest starts to heave. It's clear she's close, and you fully intend to push her over the edge. You continue thrusting your fingers and bring your thumb to rub tight circles against her clit. Her body seizes up and she cums hard, muffling her moan by pressing her face against your neck
"That's it, that's my girl" you coo as you gentle your movements to help her come down
"Yes, yours" she whimpers, "I'm yours Detka(baby)"
After helping her clean up you cuddle with her in bed, holding her close as she drifts off to sleep. You gently rub her back and watch with a fond smile as her eyelids struggle to stay open
"Rest baby, I'm here"
"You'll stay, right?" she mumbles sleepily
You lean in and press a kiss against her forehead, "Of course I will"
She relaxes further into the mattress and snuggles closer, "I love you Y/n, thank you for coming, thank you for taking care of me"
"I love you too" you tell her honestly, "But we have a lot of work to do before forgiveness is earned"
"I know, and I'm willing to put in the work"
You nod, "Rest now, we can talk about it later"
She drifts off to sleep, a soft smile on her face as she finally feels like shes started to right one of the worst mistakes of her life. And shes beyond grateful you're giving her that chance
pairing : megan skiendiel x g!p reader Tags: period sex, blood play, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, overstimulation, spit play, hair pulling, possessiveness, messy sex, cum play, creampie eating, multiple creampies
The dorm was blissfully empty, the other girls out celebrating a successful rehearsal. Soft lamplight cast warm shadows across the living room. Megan had been restless on the couch for what felt like forever, shifting her hips, pressing a pillow against her lower belly as cramps twisted deep inside her. The discomfort only made her hornier, that familiar heavy ache between her legs turning into pure need.
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed herself up, grabbed the dark throw blanket from the armchair, and spread it messily over the couch cushions. Without hesitation she peeled off her shorts and panties, letting them drop to the floor. A thick smear of bright red blood already coated her inner thighs. She leaned back, spread her legs shamelessly wide, and sank two fingers straight into her soaked, leaking pussy with a loud, wet sound.
Her eyes found yours across the room, dark and burning.
“Get over here right now,” she said, voice low and commanding, fingers slowly pumping in and out of herself. “I need your cock. These cramps are killing me and only you can fix it.”
You were already moving, heart pounding as you stripped off your hoodie and sweats. Your cock sprang free, hard and leaking, twitching at the sight of her like this — flushed, bleeding, fingers glistening red. The second you reached the couch Megan grabbed your hips and yanked you down on top of her, bodies colliding hot and urgent. Skin on skin. Her full tits pressed against your chest as she wrapped her legs high around your waist.
She reached between you without wasting time, wrapping her slick fingers around your cock and rubbing the head through her bloody folds. Warm, slippery mess coated you instantly — blood, arousal, everything mixing together. She lined you up and rocked her hips up demandingly.
“Inside me,” she breathed against your mouth. “All the way. Now.”
You pushed in slowly, savoring the scorching heat. Her cunt was tighter than usual, swollen from her period, gripping every inch like it never wanted to let go. The blood made the slide filthy and effortless. Megan moaned deep in her throat, nails digging hard into your shoulders as you bottomed out, pelvis pressed tight to hers. For a long moment you stayed there, buried to the hilt, foreheads touching, breathing each other in while her walls fluttered around you.
Then you started fucking her.
Deep, heavy thrusts that made the couch creak beneath you. Every stroke dragged along her walls and pushed more of the warm mess out around your cock. Wet, obscene squelching sounds echoed through the quiet dorm — loud, filthy, unmistakable. Pinkish streaks of blood and slick smeared across your pelvis and her ass with every impact. The dark blanket underneath her was already darkening further, soaking through.
Megan’s head fell back against the cushions, lips parted, pretty brown eyes half-lidded but locked on yours. “Fuck… yes, just like that,” she gasped, rolling her hips up to meet every thrust. “Deeper, baby. I need you so fucking deep.”
You gave it to her. Your pace picked up, hips snapping harder, the slap of skin on skin mixing with the wet sounds of her bloody cunt taking you. One hand tangled in her hair, tugging just hard enough to keep her eyes on you. The other slid between your bodies, fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing tight, messy circles through the slick blood. Every grind of your hips pressed against her in the perfect way, soothing the cramps while building that sharp pleasure higher.
She was getting close fast. Her moans grew louder, breathier, legs tightening around your waist like a vice. Her tits bounced with every thrust, nipples hard and begging for attention. You leaned down and captured one in your mouth, sucking hard, biting gently while you kept pounding into her.
“Shit— I’m gonna cum,” she whimpered, back arching sharply. “Don’t stop— please—”
Her orgasm crashed through her. Megan cried out, body shaking violently underneath you as her pussy clamped down hard around your cock. Hot gushes of blood and slick flooded out around your shaft, completely drenching the blanket and your thighs. You fucked her straight through it, hips never slowing, grinding deep against her clit to draw it out until she was trembling and whimpering.
When the peak finally eased, she looked up at you with glassy eyes, voice wrecked. “Cum inside me. Fill this bloody little pussy. Breed me, baby. I want to feel it mixing with everything.”
You couldn’t hold back. You buried yourself as deep as possible and came with a low, guttural groan, thick ropes of cum pulsing hard into her fluttering, bloody heat. The sensation of your load flooding her made Megan moan again, milking you with rhythmic squeezes. When you finally started to pull out, a thick, obscene flood poured from her wrecked, puffy hole — creamy white cum swirling with bright red blood, dripping slowly down over her ass and onto the ruined blanket.
You stayed hovering over her for a moment, both of you panting, bodies sticky with sweat and mess. But that filthy urge inside you surged stronger than ever at the sight.
You slid down her body, shoving her thighs apart even wider. Megan’s breath hitched, but she didn’t resist. Instead she reached down and tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling your face closer to her dripping cunt.
You dove in without hesitation.
Your tongue licked a long, slow stripe from her ass all the way up her messy slit, tasting the raw, intense mix — metallic blood, salty-sweet cum, and her own slick arousal. The flavor was filthy, overwhelming, and you groaned loudly into her pussy, the vibration making her hips twitch. You buried your tongue deeper, fucking it inside her leaking hole to scoop out more of the creamy red-white mess, swallowing greedily. Blood and cum smeared thickly across your lips, chin, and cheeks as you ate her like a starving animal.
Megan moaned shamelessly, hips grinding against your face, riding your tongue. “Oh my god… you’re so fucking nasty for this,” she panted, but her grip in your hair only tightened, pushing you harder into her. You sucked on her swollen clit, then dipped lower again, licking every streak from her folds and thighs, cleaning her with long, hungry strokes while more mess continued to leak out.
You lost yourself in it — the taste, the smell, the way her thighs trembled around your head. Your cock twitched hard against the couch, already stirring back to life from how dirty it felt. You groaned and sucked harder, tongue working inside her until Megan was shaking again, another smaller orgasm rolling through her as she gasped your name.
When you finally pulled back, your entire lower face was glistening with the evidence. Megan yanked you up desperately and kissed you hard, tongue sliding deep into your mouth, tasting every filthy drop of the mix straight from you. She moaned into the kiss, sucking on your tongue like she couldn’t get enough, hands roaming your back and ass, pulling you closer.
Your cock was fully hard again, pressed hot against her thigh. Megan reached down, stroked you through the slick mess, and guided you back to her entrance.
“Again,” she whispered against your lips. “Slower this time. I want to feel every inch.”
You pushed back inside her soaked, cum-filled pussy in one smooth, deep thrust. The glide was obscene now — completely drenched, sloppy, and warm. This round was different. Slower. More sensual. You fucked her with long, rolling strokes, bodies sliding together, sweat and blood and cum making everything slick and intimate. Your chests pressed tight, hearts hammering against each other. Eyes locked the entire time.
You spat on your fingers and rubbed it over her clit in firm circles, then leaned down to lick and bite along her neck, sucking marks into her skin. Megan’s hands explored you everywhere — tracing your spine, gripping your ass, pulling you deeper with every thrust. The couch creaked softly beneath you as you moved together, the wet sounds quieter but somehow even filthier in the drawn-out rhythm.
It built slowly this time. You ground against her with every deep stroke, hitting that perfect spot inside her while your pelvis rubbed her clit. Megan’s moans turned into soft, breathy whimpers, her walls fluttering around you again and again. When her second major orgasm hit, it was long and shuddering, her whole body tensing and trembling as she clung to you, crying out softly against your shoulder.
You followed soon after, pumping a second, slightly smaller load deep inside her with a low groan, hips stuttering as you emptied yourself completely. The mix leaked out even more this time, warm and thick around your cock.
You stayed buried inside her afterward, lazily grinding in slow circles while you both came down. The couch was absolutely destroyed — dark, heavy wet stains everywhere, the blanket soaked through and sticking to her skin. Megan’s thighs, stomach, and pussy were streaked with red and white. Your face and pelvis were covered in the same filthy evidence.
Megan dragged her fingers through the mess on her thigh, brought them to your lips, and watched with hazy, satisfied eyes as you sucked them clean. Then she pulled you into another slow, dirty kiss, legs still locked loosely around your waist. Neither of you made any move to clean up. The cramps were completely gone, replaced by a heavy, blissful ache.
You stayed like that for a long time — tangled together on the ruined couch, bodies sticky and marked, breathing slowing in the quiet dorm. Just the two of you, raw and close, the heavy scent of sex and blood hanging in the air.
summary: you take your girlfriend to her first wnba game. she falls in love with basketball. specifically, one point guard.
tags: former d1 athlete reader, paige bueckers causing relationship problems (not really but kinda), men getting humbled <3
"absolutely not."
"megan."
"i said no, and i mean no."
you're sprawled across the couch, phone open to the ticketmaster app, trying very hard not to look as desperate as you feel. "it's the wings versus the liberty. it's literally going to be so good—"
"i don't even know what a liberty is doing playing a ring."
"a wing. dallas wings."
"see, i don't even know the words." megan doesn't look up from her nails, which she's very intently not painting because she ran out of the color she wanted three days ago and has been mourning it since. "basketball is just tall people running back and forth. i don't get the appeal."
"i played basketball my entire life, megan."
"i know that."
"i was a d1 athlete."
"i know that too, baby, but i don’t really know what that means." she finally glances at you, grinning. "i'm happy for your bouncy ball era. i just don't want to sit in an arena for three hours confused."
you're about to argue when lara, uninvited as always, wanders in from the kitchen with a spoon in her mouth eating directly out of a peanut butter jar. "just go with your girlfriend, megan. it's a date. free food. air conditioning."
"exactly," you say, gesturing at lara like she just solved world peace.
"also," manon adds, appearing out of nowhere the way she does, "the players are hot. like objectively. i've seen photos."
"i don't care about hot women playing basketball, i care about—"
"paige bueckers is playing." dani, who has been suspiciously silent until now, sits up straight on the other couch like she's been electrocuted. "wait, is paige bueckers playing? y/n. y/n. is she playing."
"she plays for the wings, dani, yes, she's playing."
dani makes a sound that can only be described as a fangirl screech. "i need to see her in person. i need this. megan you have to go so we can all go."
"i still don't know who that is."
"paige bueckers," yoonchae says, like she's explaining something to a child, "is literally one of the best point guards in the league right now. y/n, if you'd declared for the draft you could've been her. like, that could've been you."
"okay let's not exaggerate—"
"no it's true," sophia chimes in, nodding seriously.
"i'm still not going," megan says, but there's a wobble in her voice now, the kind that means she's four minutes away from caving.
"babe." you drop down next to her, doing the thing with your eyes that you know works on her. "please. for me. i'll buy you the churro."
"the overpriced arena churro?"
"the overpriced arena churro."
she stares at you for a long, dramatic moment, sighing like you've just asked her to donate a kidney. "fine. but if i'm bored we’re leaving."
"you won't be bored."
"we'll see."
•
the arena is loud and bright and smells like popcorn and beer, and megan is clutching a foam finger someone handed her at the door.
"why is it a finger."
"it's a foam finger, megan."
"why."
"i don't know, it's a basketball thing, just wear it."
she puts it on like it's radioactive. you're practically vibrating in your seat, pointing out things as the teams warm up: the rim height, the three point line, the way paige bueckers is effortlessly draining shots from half court like it's nothing.
"see, look at her form—"
"mm."
"the follow through, it's so clean—"
"mhm."
megan is not looking at the court. megan is looking at you, chin in her hand, a small smile on her face like she's watching something far more interesting than basketball.
"you're not even watching," you say.
"i'm watching you get excited. it's cute." she leans over and kisses your cheek. "you're lucky i love you, you know that?"
"i know." you kiss her back, smug and warm all over. "you're gonna love this, i promise."
the game starts. you're explaining fouls, explaining the shot clock, explaining why everyone's screaming when the liberty hit a three. megan nods along, still mostly looking at you, still mostly disinterested in the actual sport happening twenty feet away.
and then paige bueckers steals the ball on a fast break, weaves through two defenders like they're not even there, and finishes with a layup so smooth the whole arena erupts.
megan goes quiet.
you don't notice at first — you're too busy screaming, high-fiving lara, absolutely losing your mind over the play. it's not until the next dead ball that you glance over and see megan sitting very still, eyes fixed on the court, foam finger forgotten in her lap.
"you good?"
"hm? yeah. yeah, i'm good." she blinks like she's coming out of a trance. "she's just. really fast."
"she is."
megan doesn't say anything else. but for the rest of the quarter, you notice . she's quiet. weirdly quiet. she doesn't cheer for threes, doesn't react to blocks, doesn't so much as blink when the liberty go on a run.
except every single time paige bueckers touches the ball.
then megan sits up a little straighter. then megan's eyes track her across the court like she's the only person playing. and when paige hits a stepback three at the buzzer to end the half, megan is on her feet, clapping, genuinely clapping, louder than she's clapped for anything all night.
you side-eye her.
she doesn't notice. she's too busy watching number five jog back to the locker room.
second half, and it's more of the same. megan, silent and unmoved by everything — the dunks, the threes, dani's screaming, lara's terrible attempts at the wave — except for paige.
paige gets a steal: megan gasps.
paige draws a foul: megan mutters "that was so not a foul" under her breath like she's been watching basketball her whole life.
paige hits a fadeaway over two defenders: megan actually stands up, hands over her mouth, and goes "oh my god" so loud that the guy in front of you turns around.
you're staring at her now, full side-eye, arms crossed.
"what?" she says, noticing you finally.
"nothing."
"you're looking at me weird."
"i'm not looking at you weird."
"baby, you are.”
you drop it, because the wings pull ahead in the fourth quarter and everyone around you is losing their minds, dani is filming everything on her phone screaming paige's name like she's at a concert, and by the time the final buzzer sounds — wings win, and paige bueckers finishes with a near triple-double — the whole section is on its feet.
megan is on her feet too. clapping. genuinely, actually happy.
you decide to let it go. for now.
•
"okay," megan says on the walk back to the car, practically skipping, "that was actually super fun. when can we go again?"
you blink. "wait, really?"
"yes! i had so much fun. we have to go again."
"i mean — i can try to get tickets again, i'll see what's available—"
"okay but," she cuts in, way too casually, "can we specifically see the team that just won? like the dallas ones?"
you stop walking. "the wings?"
"yeah, them."
you raise an eyebrow — the eyebrow thing, apparently — and study her. "why them specifically?"
"i don't know, i just liked their energy."
"their energy."
"yeah!"
"megan, every time i've tried to talk to you about basketball for the past two years, you've told me and i quote, 'it's just tall people running,' and now you have opinions about team energy?"
"things change, y/n."
"things change," you repeat, flatly.
"yeah! people grow! people can develop new interests!"
you roll your eyes, mostly annoyed, a little suspicious, and decide not to push it further. "i'll see what i can find."
"thank you, baby." she kisses your cheek, entirely too pleased with herself, and you shake your head the whole ride home.
•
it starts small.
tuesday: you find megan on the couch scrolling tiktok, and when you peek over her shoulder it's a paige bueckers highlight reel set to some trendy tiktok song, edited with slow motion and text overlays.
wednesday: megan casually mentions, over breakfast, that the wings are "on a two game win streak, did you know that."
you did not know that. you don't think megan knew what a win streak was a week ago.
thursday: you walk past her phone on the counter and the screen is on the dallas wings instagram page, several posts deep, and one story-highlight click away from paige bueckers' personal account.
you: i think megan has a crush on paige bueckers
lara: lmaooooo
babe u took her to one game
this is entirely your fault
you: this is not helpful
lara: i think it's hilarious. anyway good luck w that 💀
you: lara
lara: 🫡
•
you and megan live together, which means there's no escaping the eventual conversation, and it happens on a wednesday over reheated pasta.
"babe,” you say, twirling your fork, deliberately casual, "you've been awfully interested in paige bueckers lately."
megan's fork pauses mid-air. "what? no. i mean — i just admire her."
"admire her."
"she's really good at basketball."
"i play basketball too," you say, unable to help the edge in your voice. "you've literally never hyped me up like that."
"i've never seen you play basketball, babe."
"i have highlight tapes from college. i've offered to show you. multiple times."
"that's different."
"how is that different?"
"i don't know, it just is." megan shrugs, going back to her pasta like this is a completely normal, unremarkable conversation and not the thing currently eating you alive. "she's just really impressive. that's all.”
you let it drop, but you tuck it away, deeply, for later use.
•
the following week, you're walking through the city with the whole group — lara, manon, dani, yoonchae, sophia, megan — heading to get food, when you pass a court where a group of guys around your age are playing a lazy pickup game, their girlfriends sitting bored on the bleachers scrolling their phones.
the ball rolls out of bounds, straight toward you. you catch it out of pure instinct.
"oh, hey," one of the guys calls, jogging over, "you play?"
before you can answer, lara's already grinning, stepping forward like she's been waiting for this exact moment her whole life. "you know this girl's a d1 basketball athlete? i bet she can beat all three of you in a 1v3."
"lara—"
"trust me." she doesn't even look at you, just smirks at the guys.
the guy laughs, looking you up and down, unimpressed. "bet. but i bet she can't."
and something in you — something competitive, something that's been sitting dormant since college, something that does not appreciate being underestimated — wakes up.
"give me the ball," you say.
the girls on the bleachers look up from their phones, mildly interested now. megan glances at you, just in time to see you toe the three point line, bounce the ball twice, and look at the three guys with a calm, dangerous little smile.
"ball in?"
what follows is, frankly, a massacre.
you cross the first guy so hard he nearly falls over, pull up from midrange, and drain it clean. 2-0.
the second possession you drive baseline, spin off your defender, and finish with a reverse layup so smooth the guys on the sideline actually go "oh," out loud.
by the fourth point you're taking it behind the back between two guys just to hear them groan.
you pull up from three — way beyond the college line, because why not — and it splashes through the net without even touching the rim.
"air ball— i mean, that's not — that's not fair, she's not even trying," one of the guys pants, hands on his knees.
"skill issue," lara calls from the sideline, cackling.
you're sweating, grinning, fully in your element, hair sticking to your forehead, moving like this is the easiest thing in the world, because it is — this is what your body has known how to do since you were nine years old. you cross another guy so bad he stumbles sideways into the fence. dani is filming. sophia is losing her mind. yoonchae and manon screaming your name.
and megan.
megan is not saying anything.
megan is standing very still, mouth slightly open, eyes tracking you across the court with an intensity that lara notices immediately — lara, who glances over, sees megan basically drooling, watching you like you hung the moon, and has to physically bite down on her own fist to keep from laughing out loud.
there it is, lara thinks, mentally patting herself on the back.
you finish the game with an and-one, drawing the foul and hitting the free throw anyway just to be petty about it. final score: 11-2. by a landslide. the group erupts, screaming, trash talking the guys mercilessly.
"eleven to two!" manon shouts. "eleven to two. and one of you claimed you could actually guard her!"
"LETS FUCKING GO!” dani calls, cackling.
you're laughing, breathless, wiping sweat off your forehead with the hem of your shirt, and you look — genuinely, unfairly — really hot right now, and you have no idea just how much megan is struggling right now.
you're jogging over to your friends, still riding the high of the win, when someone steps directly into your path.
blonde. blue eyes. one of the girlfriends who was sitting on the bleachers, except she's very clearly not looking at you like a girlfriend would look at anyone else's girlfriend.
"hey," she says, smiling in a way that's very obviously not friendly-neighbor smiling. "that was really impressive."
"oh, thanks." you're still catching your breath, trying to sidestep her politely to get to your friends.
"seriously, though." she steps closer, and her hand lands on your bicep, fingers pressing in like she's testing the merchandise. "you play like that all the time? because that was insane."
"i, uh. used to. in college."
"college, huh." her thumb traces a slow line over your arm. "i bet you could teach me a thing or two."
you're opening your mouth to politely extract yourself from this conversation when a voice cuts through, sharp as a blade.
"good game, baby."
megan's hand slides possessively around your waist and her mouth is on yours before you can even process it, a kiss that is decidedly not subtle, decidedly a statement, decidedly for an audience.
she pulls back just enough to turn and face the girl, sweet smile firmly in place, voice dripping with false pleasantness.
"i'm megan." a beat. "her girlfriend."
the girl's expression flickers — annoyance, then a slow, unbothered eye roll, like she's dealt with jealous girlfriends before and finds them predictable. "relax. i was just talking."
"you were touching," megan corrects.
the girl shrugs, already turning to walk away, tossing over her shoulder with a smirk: "well, if you're ever bored of your girlfriend, my instagram is—"
she doesn't get to finish.
megan shoves her.
not a light shove either — a full, both-hands, shove that sends the girl stumbling backward and landing hard on the pavement, more shocked than hurt, blinking up at megan like she genuinely cannot believe what just happened.
"MEGAN," you yelp, at the exact same moment lara shouts "okay—" and the whole group descends into chaos, dani and sophia rushing to pull megan back, yoonchae already apologizing to the fallen girl on autopilot, manon filming (because of course she is), and you grabbing megan's arm to physically turn her away.
"you don't just walk up and touch someone's girlfriend like she's a snack at a buffet," megan is saying, loudly, still glaring, as lara tugs her backward.
"megan, oh my god, let's go—"
"i'm just saying—"
"megan, baby, we're leaving, come on—" you're half-laughing despite yourself, adrenaline and secondhand embarrassment mixing into something dizzy, steering megan away by the shoulders while the girl picks herself up off the ground, dusting off her jeans, shooting one last unimpressed look in your direction before stalking off toward her friends.
"i can't believe you pushed her," dani says, delighted, the second you're all a block away.
"i can't believe she thought she could just TOUCH—"
"megan."
"what."
"i love you," you say, because you can't help it, because the whole thing was absurd and a little unhinged and also, embarrassingly, kind of doing something for you.
megan deflates slightly, crossing her arms. "she was disrespectful."
"she was," you agree, mostly to keep the peace. "you good?"
"i'm good." a pause. "you were really good back there, by the way. on the court."
"i know."
"i mean it. you were — you were really good." she's looking at you differently now, something warmer replacing the leftover irritation. "like, genuinely impressive."
"thank you."
"better than paige bueckers," she adds, entirely too seriously.
you snort. "you don't have to lie to me."
"i'm not lying."
"megan, you have three tiktoks saved of her crossover alone."
"that's different."
"is it."
"yes," she says, firmly.
she glances at you sideways, something a little heated behind it, and you decide you'll take the win.
•
the apartment is quiet when you get back. the kind of quiet that still feels like it’s buzzing from everything that just happened.
you barely get the door shut before megan’s grabbing your shirt, pulling you in like she’s been holding herself back the entire walk home.
"megan—"
"no," she murmurs, already kissing you again, a little breathless, a little impatient. "don’t talk yet."
you laugh into her mouth, but it melts quickly when her hands slide up your sides, gripping like she needs to feel that you’re real, that you’re actually here and not still on that court making everyone lose their minds.
"you’ve been like this since we left," you mumble between kisses.
"yeah, well," she says, nudging you back until your spine hits the door again, "whose fault is that?"
"mine?" you grin.
"yours," she confirms immediately, like it’s obvious. "you just—" she gestures vaguely, frustrated, "you didn’t tell me you were that good."
you raise a brow. "i told you i was a d1 athlete."
"i thought you were exaggerating!"
"why would i exaggerate that?"
"i don’t know," she huffs, then leans in again, softer this time, slower. "you looked so…" she trails off, like she doesn’t have the words, which is rare for her.
"so?" you prompt.
"annoying," she says, but there’s no bite in it. her thumb brushes along your jaw. "like you knew you were going to win. like it was easy."
"it was easy," you tease.
she narrows her eyes at you, but there’s something else there too — something warmer, something a little dazed. "exactly. annoying."
then, quieter: "i’ve just never seen you like that before."
that knocks the teasing out of you a little.
"like what?"
"like… in your element," she says. "i’ve heard you talk about basketball, yeah, but—" she shakes her head, searching. "that was different. you were so confident. and everyone was watching you and you didn’t even care, you just—did it."
your grip on her tightens just slightly. "you didn’t seem very interested when i was talking about it before."
"i didn’t get it before," she admits, voice small in a way you don’t hear often. "i thought it was just… a game."
"and now?"
she lets out a soft laugh, leaning her forehead against yours. "now i get why you love it."
a beat.
"also," she adds, "you’re insanely hot when you play."
there it is.
you smirk. "insanely hot, huh?"
"don’t let it get to your head."
"too late."
"ugh," she groans, but she’s smiling, and then she’s kissing you again. slower now, deeper, like she’s savoring it instead of trying to prove a point.
your hand slides up to her jaw, tilting her head just slightly, and she melts into it in a way that makes your chest ache a little.
"you know," you murmur against her lips, "earlier this week you were watching paige bueckers edits."
"oh my god," she groans immediately, trying to pull back, but you don’t let her.
"no, no, let’s talk about it—"
"we are not talking about that."
"you had them bookmarked.”
"i hate you."
"you said you admired her."
"i did!" she insists, then squints at you. "i still do. she’s talented."
she pauses.
then her voice drops, quieter, more serious than before. "but she’s not you."
"megan—"
"no, listen," she says, suddenly earnest, hands sliding up to cup your face now. "i got caught up, okay? it was new, it was exciting, and yeah, she’s amazing, whatever. but tonight—" her thumb brushes your cheek, softer now. "that wasn’t just exciting. that was you.”
you swallow, the teasing gone completely now.
"and i don’t just admire you," she adds, almost shyly. "i love you. a lot."
you don’t even think about it — you just pull her in again, kissing her.
she hums softly into it, hands slipping under your shirt this time, warm against your skin, and you can’t help the small breath that escapes you.
"see," she murmurs, a little smug now, "that’s the reaction i wanted earlier."
"you’re unbelievable," you say, but you’re smiling.
"and you’re mine," she shoots back instantly.
"possessive."
megan scoffs. "absolutely."
you laugh, pressing one last kiss to her lips, softer this time, lingering. "i still can’t believe you pushed her."
"i would do it again."
"you’re insane.”
“i’m as serious as a heart attack.”
"you’re lucky i love you."
"i am," she says, grinning, nudging her nose against yours. "and you’re lucky i went to that game."
"oh, so now it’s my luck?"
"yeah," she shrugs. "otherwise i wouldn’t have realized my girlfriend is basically better than half the league."
"half?"
"okay, fine. all of them."
you laugh, pulling her closer, resting your forehead against hers. "liar."
"only for you," she murmurs, and kisses you again, softer this time, like she means it.
and later, when you’re curled up together on the couch, her head on your shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm—
"hey," she says.
"hm?"
"next time we go to a game," she tilts her head up to look at you, "you have to explain everything again. like the plays. and the positions. and… whatever that thing was you did where the guy almost fell."
"a crossover."
"yeah, that." she smiles. "i wanna learn."
you press a kiss to her hair, warmth settling deep in your chest.
May I request G!P reader x Daniela where Daniela cheats on her bf with reader and one night her bf calls her during sex and she lets him hear it
Static and Surrender
Pairing: G!P Reader x Daniela Avanzini
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cheating/adultery, voyeuristic cuckolding (consensual on Daniela’s part), rough sex, strong language, emotional intensity. 18+ only.
The city hummed beneath the penthouse windows like a distant, indifferent witness. Rain streaked the glass in silver threads, catching the low amber light of the single lamp you’d left on. Daniela’s heels clicked once against the marble before she kicked them off, the sound swallowed by the thick rug. She didn’t speak. She rarely needed to when she came to you like this—hair slightly damp from the taxi, black dress clinging to the curves she knew you’d ruin.
You leaned against the kitchen island, whiskey glass in hand, watching her. Not predatory. Just certain. That was the difference between you and the boy waiting at home for her. You didn’t chase. You didn’t beg. You simply existed in the space she kept returning to, and that was enough to make her wet before she even touched you.
“Rough day?” you asked, voice low, steady.
She exhaled a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “He wants to talk about our future again. Ring shopping. Timelines.” Her fingers found the zipper at her side and dragged it down slowly, the fabric peeling away like she was shedding a second skin. “I told him I needed air.”
You set the glass down. “And you came here.”
“I always come here.”
The dress pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it in nothing but lace panties the color of midnight and a bra that barely contained her. Her body was a study in contradictions—soft where it invited touch, toned where it promised strength. You’d mapped every inch of it over the last four months. Knew exactly how her breath hitched when you bit the inside of her thigh. How her back arched when you filled her just right.
You crossed the room without hurry. When you reached her, you didn’t kiss her immediately. You slid your fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so you could look at her face. Her pupils were already blown wide.
“He think you’re at the gym?” you murmured.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” you said. “But I like knowing how badly you’re lying to him tonight.”
Her lips parted. You kissed her then—deep, unhurried, the kind of kiss that said you had all the time in the world because she was already yours in every way that counted. Daniela melted into it, hands fisting your shirt, pulling you closer. She tasted like the red wine she’d had at dinner with him and the mint she’d chewed in the elevator on the way up. You backed her toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss until the backs of her knees hit the mattress.
She sat, looking up at you with that half-lidded expression that always made your cock twitch against the confines of your jeans. You were already hard. Had been since the moment she texted On my way. You pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the lean muscle you kept sharp for moments exactly like this. Daniela’s gaze dropped to the bulge straining the denim. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“Take them off,” she whispered.
You did, slowly. When your cock sprang free—thick, heavy, flushed at the tip—she let out a small, involuntary sound. Not the exaggerated porn moan so many women performed. Just raw need. You were bigger than him. You both knew it. She’d told you once, drunk on whiskey and guilt and lust, that she couldn’t stop thinking about how full you made her feel.
You stroked yourself once, watching her watch you. “On your back. Legs open.”
She obeyed, peeling the panties down and tossing them aside. Her pussy was already glistening. You climbed over her, settling between her thighs but not entering her yet. Instead you dragged the head of your cock through her folds, coating yourself in her slick, teasing her clit until her hips jerked.
“Fuck, please,” she breathed.
You pushed in—slow at first, letting her feel every inch. Her walls clenched around you like velvet heat, fluttering as she adjusted to your girth. Daniela’s head fell back, a low moan tearing from her throat. You bottomed out and held still, savoring the way she pulsed around you.
“Look at me,” you said.
Her eyes met yours, dark and glassy. You started to move—deep, measured thrusts that dragged against that spot inside her that made her toes curl. The wet sounds of your bodies filled the room, obscene and perfect. Rain lashed the windows harder. You fucked her like you had something to prove, but the truth was simpler: you just wanted her to feel ruined for anyone else.
Her nails raked down your back. You caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other gripped her hip, angling her so you could go deeper. The shift made her cry out—sharp, genuine.
“Right there—God, yes—”
You leaned down, mouth at her ear. “Tell me how much better this feels than him.”
She hesitated half a second—some last scrap of loyalty flickering—then broke. “So much better. Fuck, you’re so deep. He never… he never gets there like you do.”
You rewarded her with a harder thrust. Her legs wrapped around your waist, heels digging into your lower back. Sweat slicked your skin where you pressed together. You could feel her getting close already, the way her cunt fluttered and tightened.
Then her phone rang.
It vibrated on the nightstand, screen lighting up with his name. Marco. The sound cut through the rhythm of skin on skin like a cold blade. Daniela’s eyes flew open. For a moment you both stilled, your cock buried to the hilt inside her.
You didn’t pull out. You simply looked at her, eyebrow raised in quiet challenge.
Her breathing was ragged. The phone kept ringing.
“Answer it,” you said.
Her lips parted in surprise, but something darker, hungrier, flashed across her face. She reached for the phone with a trembling hand. You started moving again—slow, shallow rolls of your hips that kept her right on the edge without letting her tip over.
She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hey, baby.”
Her voice was impressively steady at first. You dragged your cock out almost completely, then slid back in with deliberate force. Daniela’s free hand flew to your shoulder, nails biting in.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m at the gym still,” she said. A little breathier now. “Just finishing up a circuit.”
You ground your hips in a slow circle, pressing against her clit. Her eyes rolled back. She bit her lip hard enough to leave marks.
Marco’s voice was a faint tinny murmur on the other end. You couldn’t make out the words, but you didn’t need to. You knew the tone—affectionate, oblivious.
Daniela’s thighs started to shake. You picked up the pace, fucking her harder, the wet slap of your bodies louder now. She tried to muffle her moan against her shoulder, but it slipped out anyway.
“What? No, I’m… the music’s loud in here,” she lied, voice cracking on the last word as you hit that perfect angle again. “Fuck— I mean, yeah, I’ll be home soon.”
You leaned down and sucked a nipple into your mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. Her pussy clenched violently around you. She was so close it was almost painful to watch.
Marco said something else. Daniela’s eyes locked on yours, desperate and wild.
“Yeah, I love you too,” she managed, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as you slammed into her, deep and relentless. The phone slipped slightly in her grip. You could hear Marco’s confused “Dani?” before she pressed it closer again.
You reached between you and rubbed tight circles over her clit. That was it. Daniela came with a strangled cry she couldn’t hold back, her whole body seizing around your cock. Her walls milked you in powerful spasms, slick gushing around your length. She tried to keep the phone steady but failed; you heard the faint, bewildered “What the hell was that?” from the other end.
You didn’t stop. You fucked her through it, chasing your own release now, hips snapping forward with purpose. Daniela’s head thrashed against the pillow, tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. She kept the phone there—let him hear every gasp, every wet thrust, every broken whimper.
You came hard, burying yourself to the hilt and flooding her with thick ropes of cum. The groan you let out was low, masculine, unmistakable. Daniela’s second orgasm crashed over her right after, triggered by the feel of you pulsing inside her. She sobbed your name—quiet, but not quiet enough.
The line went dead.
For a long moment the only sounds were your mingled breathing and the rain. You stayed inside her, softening slowly, your bodies locked together. Daniela dropped the phone onto the bed like it burned her. Her chest heaved.
You brushed damp hair from her forehead, surprisingly gentle. “You okay?”
She laughed—a wrecked, disbelieving sound. “I think I just… he heard everything.”
“Yeah.” You kissed the corner of her mouth. “And you came harder than you ever have with him.”
She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Instead she pulled you down into a messy kiss, legs still wrapped around you. Your cum was already leaking out around your cock, messy and claiming. She shivered at the feeling.
Later—after you’d cleaned her up and poured her a glass of water—she curled against your chest, tracing idle patterns on your skin.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” she whispered.
You ran your fingers through her hair. “Probably. But you’ll go home tomorrow and act like nothing happened. Until the next time you need this.”
She was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”
You tilted her chin up so she met your eyes. “Then don’t. But when you’re ready to stop lying to him… you know where I am.”
Daniela kissed you again, slower this time. The rain kept falling, washing the city clean outside while inside, the two of you tangled in the wreckage you’d made.
The affair had started innocently enough, if anything involving Daniela Avanzini could ever be called innocent.
You’d met her at a private event—some tech launch party where the drinks were overpriced and the conversations shallow. She was there with Marco, smiling the polished smile of someone who knew exactly how good she looked in the navy dress that hugged her ass. You were there because your company had done the backend work for the app being launched. When Marco stepped away to network, Daniela had drifted toward you at the bar.
“You look like you’re calculating exit strategies,” she’d said, lips curved in amusement.
You’d shrugged. “Just observing. You look like you’re performing.”
Her eyebrow had arched. That was the first real spark—mutual recognition of the masks people wore. Two hours later she was in the back of your car, dress rucked up around her waist, your fingers buried inside her while she bit your shoulder to stay quiet. Marco had texted her twice during the ride. She’d answered with one hand, the other stroking your cock through your pants.
It escalated from there. Hotel rooms. Your penthouse. Once, daringly, the guest bathroom at a dinner party he’d hosted. Each time she left you, she carried the scent of sex and your cologne home with her. Each time she came back hungrier.
You weren’t in love. Love was for people who had the luxury of honesty. This was something sharper—addiction, chemistry, the thrill of taking what wasn’t yours. But there was respect in it too. You never pushed her to leave him. You simply offered her a space where she didn’t have to pretend.
The night of the phone call wasn’t planned. Not exactly. But when it rang, the opportunity had felt inevitable.
Two weeks later she showed up again, eyes shadowed.
“He won’t stop asking about that night,” she said, shrugging out of her coat. “Keeps replaying the call. Says it sounded like I was… with someone.”
You poured her a drink. “And what did you tell him?”
“That the gym had some weird audio system. That I was in pain from a tough set.” She took the glass, downed half of it. “He wants to believe me. But I think part of him knows.”
You stepped behind her, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. Your cock was already stirring. “And how does that make you feel?”
She shivered as your lips found the side of her neck. “Terrified. And so fucking wet I could barely drive here.”
You turned her around and lifted her onto the counter. This time you didn’t bother with slow. You shoved her skirt up, ripped the panties aside, and sank into her in one smooth thrust. Daniela cried out, head falling back against the cabinet.
You fucked her right there in the kitchen—hard, possessive strokes that made the glasses rattle. Her legs locked around you, heels digging into your ass. Every thrust drove the memory of Marco’s confused voice deeper into both of you.
“Say it,” you growled against her ear. “Tell me what you let him hear.”
“I let him hear me coming on your cock,” she gasped. “Let him hear how much I needed you to fill me up.”
You rewarded her with a brutal angle that made her see stars. She came first, clenching so hard you followed right after, pumping her full again. When you pulled out, your cum dripped down her thighs onto the marble. She looked down at it, breathing hard, and smiled—a small, dangerous thing.
“I think I want him to hear it again,” she whispered.
The next time Marco called, you had her bent over the couch, dress shoved up around her waist, your cock buried deep. You’d been edging her for nearly an hour—bringing her to the brink and backing off until she was shaking and begging.
When the phone rang, you didn’t even slow down. You simply handed it to her.
“Answer.”
She did, voice wrecked. “Hey.”
This time Marco’s voice was sharper. Suspicious. “Where are you? You sound… off.”
You reached around and rubbed her clit while continuing those devastating thrusts. Daniela’s moan slipped out before she could stop it.
“Fuck— I’m at… the studio. Late session.”
You leaned over her back, biting her shoulder. “Louder,” you whispered.
She obeyed. Her next moan was clearer, shameless. Marco’s questions turned frantic. “Dani? What the hell is going on?”
You fucked her harder, the slap of skin loud enough to carry through the speaker. Daniela’s hand gripped the couch cushion, knuckles white. “I’m sorry— I can’t— oh God—”
She came violently, crying out your name this time. Not his. Yours. The phone clattered to the floor. Marco’s voice kept coming from it, distant and devastated, until she hung up with a trembling hand.
You pulled out, turned her around, and dropped to your knees. Your mouth found her oversensitive pussy, licking up the mess you’d made while she sobbed through aftershocks. When you finally stood and slid back inside her, she clung to you like you were the only solid thing left in her world.
Months blurred. The lies grew thinner. Marco grew more desperate. Daniela grew bolder.
One night she arrived with his ring still on her finger. You fucked her against the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights glittering below like scattered diamonds. She pressed her tits against the cold glass while you took her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other between her legs.
When he called, she answered on speaker.
This time she didn’t even try to lie.
The sounds she made were obscene—wet, rhythmic, punctuated by your low grunts and the slap of your hips. Marco’s voice cracked on the other end, pleading, cursing, breaking. Daniela came with a scream that echoed off the glass. You followed, flooding her again, marking her inside and out.
Afterward she cried quietly in your arms. Not from guilt exactly, but from the weight of everything she’d destroyed and everything she’d finally admitted she wanted.
You held her through it.
“I’m done pretending,” she whispered against your chest.
You kissed the top of her head. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you anymore.”
The story didn’t end neatly. These things rarely did. Marco moved out. Friends picked sides. Social media whispered. But in the quiet of your penthouse, Daniela slept better than she had in years, your arm draped over her waist, your cum still drying on her thighs.
She was yours now—not just in the stolen hours, but completely. And every time she looked at you, there was no performance. Just raw, honest hunger.
The rain had stopped. The city kept moving below, indifferent as ever. Inside, the two of you built something new from the ruins—messy, real, and undeniably alive.
The city lights bled gold and violet through the tall windows of Lara’s apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You stood just inside the doorway, jacket still half-on, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. This was a mistake. You’d known it the second Lara had looked at you across the table at dinner—those dark, knowing eyes, the slow curve of her smile that promised things you’d tried to forget.
“You’ve been avoiding me for months,” she’d said over dessert, voice low enough that only you could hear. “But tonight you said yes.”
You had. Because Lara Raj was impossible to say no to when she turned the full force of her attention on you.
Now she was closing the door behind you with a soft click, the sound final. She wore a silk slip dress the color of midnight, thin straps sliding off one shoulder as she moved. Her hair fell in loose waves, and she smelled like vanilla and something warmer, something that made your body react before your mind could catch up.
“Lara…” Your voice came out rough. “We shouldn’t. Manon—”
“Is not here,” she finished, stepping close enough that her breasts brushed your chest. “She hasn’t been yours for a long time. And she’s not the one I want.”
Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face down to hers. She was shorter than you, but the way she looked up through her lashes made you feel pinned in place.
“I’ve wanted you since before you even looked at her,” Lara whispered. “I waited. I was good. But I’m done waiting.”
Your hands flexed at your sides. The memory of Manon’s laugh, her touch, the easy comfort you’d once shared—it all warred with the heat pooling low in your belly. Lara’s thigh pressed lightly between yours, right against the growing bulge in your pants, and you hissed.
“Fuck… Lara, I don’t want to come between you two.”
“You’re not coming between us.” Her lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing. “You’re finally coming to me.”
She kissed you then—slow at first, savoring, like she’d been dreaming of your mouth for years. Her tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for her, and the taste of her exploded across your senses: sweet wine and something uniquely Lara. Your resolve cracked. Your hands found her waist, pulling her flush against you, and she moaned softly into your mouth when she felt you, hard and insistent.
“That’s it,” she breathed, nipping your bottom lip. “Feel how much I want you?”
She took your hand and guided it under the hem of her dress. No panties. Just slick, molten heat against your fingers. You groaned, forehead dropping to hers as you stroked through her folds, circling her clit with a reverence that made her hips jerk.
“Lara… you’re soaked.”
“For you.” She rocked against your hand. “Only ever like this for you.”
The couch was closest. You didn’t make it to the bedroom. She pushed you down first, climbing into your lap, dress riding up around her thighs. Her hands worked your belt open with practiced ease, freeing your cock. It sprang up thick and heavy between you, the head already glistening. Lara’s eyes darkened with hunger.
“God, look at you,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the base. Her hand barely fit. “So big. So fucking perfect.”
She stroked you slowly, twisting at the head on every upstroke, thumb spreading the bead of precum. Your hips bucked involuntarily. You tried one last time.
“We can stop. This doesn’t have to—”
“I want it to.” She sank to her knees between your spread thighs, silk pooling around her like dark water. “I need to taste you. Need to show you how much better I am.”
Her tongue flicked out, tracing the thick vein along the underside before swirling around the head. The wet heat of her mouth made your head fall back against the couch with a guttural sound. She took you deeper, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sight of Lara Raj—elegant, untouchable Lara—on her knees with her lips stretched around your cock was almost too much.
“Fuck, baby…” Your hand threaded through her hair, not pushing, just holding.
She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight to your balls. She bobbed her head, taking more with each pass until the head nudged the back of her throat. She swallowed, and you saw stars. Saliva dripped down your shaft, over her fingers where they pumped what she couldn’t fit. The sounds were obscene—wet, filthy, perfect.
She pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to your cock. “Tell me,” she demanded, voice husky. “Tell me I taste better than her.”
You hesitated, chest heaving. Her tongue licked a long stripe from base to tip, then she sucked just the head again, tongue flicking the sensitive underside.
“Lara—”
“Say it.” She deepthroated you again, holding there until her eyes watered, then pulled back. “I want to hear it while I’m sucking your cock.”
You broke. “You taste better. Fuck— so much better. Sweeter. Hotter. God, Lara, your mouth—”
She rewarded you with a moan that vibrated through your entire length. Her free hand cupped your balls, massaging gently as she worshipped you with lips, tongue, and throat. The pressure built fast and brutal. You tried to warn her, but she only sucked harder, eyes blazing with triumph.
You came with a broken groan, hips stuttering as you spilled down her throat. She swallowed every drop, milking you through it until you were trembling and oversensitive.
When she finally pulled off, her lips were shiny, chin messy. She looked devastatingly beautiful.
She climbed back into your lap, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on her tongue. Your cock, still hard—because she did that to you—nudged against her dripping pussy. She rocked against it, coating you in her arousal.
“Bedroom,” she whispered. “I want all of you tonight.”
You carried her there, her legs wrapped around your waist, mouth never leaving yours. The sheets were cool against her heated skin as you laid her down. You stripped the slip dress off her slowly, revealing every inch of smooth, golden skin. Her breasts were perfect, nipples tight and begging. You sucked one into your mouth while your fingers plunged into her pussy—two, then three, curling against that spot that made her cry out.
“Lara… you’re so tight.”
“Been waiting for you,” she gasped, riding your hand. “Need your cock. Please.”
You couldn’t deny her. Not anymore.
You lined up and pushed in slowly, savoring the way her walls fluttered and stretched around your girth. Inch by inch until you were buried to the hilt, balls pressed against her ass. She was impossibly hot and wet, gripping you like velvet vice.
“Move,” she begged, nails digging into your shoulders.
You did. Long, deep strokes that had the headboard knocking against the wall. Her legs locked around your hips, heels digging into your back as you fucked her harder. Skin slapped against skin. Her moans grew louder, breathier, turning into whimpers of your name.
You flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so you could take her from behind. The angle let you hit deeper, grinding against her g-spot with every thrust. One hand reached around to rub her clit in tight circles.
“Say it again,” you growled, lips against her ear.
“You taste better— fuck, Lara, your pussy feels better than anything. So good, baby. So fucking good.”
She shattered with a scream, clenching around you rhythmically as her orgasm crashed through her. The sight and feel of her coming pushed you over the edge again. You buried yourself deep and filled her, pulse after pulse of thick cum until it leaked out around your cock.
You collapsed together, tangled and sweaty. Lara turned in your arms, pressing soft kisses to your chest, your throat, your jaw.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered. “No more running. You’re mine now.”
You stroked her hair, the last of your resistance gone. “Yeah… I’m yours.”
The night stretched on. She rode you slow and sensual under the moonlight, hands braced on your chest as she rolled her hips in devastating circles. You ate her out until she sobbed with overstimulation, tongue fucking into her while your thumb pressed against her clit. She came on your face twice, thighs shaking around your head, chanting your name like a prayer.
You took her against the window, city lights glittering below as you pounded into her from behind, one hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. She sucked you off in the shower, water cascading over both of you while she looked up at you with worship in her eyes.
By the time dawn crept in, the sheets were ruined and your bodies were marked with love bites and fingerprints. Lara curled into your side, sated and glowing.
“You taste better,” you murmured against her hair, echoing her earlier demand. “Everything about you is better.”
She smiled, soft and victorious, and kissed you like she’d never let you go.
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May I request nerdy g!p reader x mean Daniela where Daniela sucks you off anywhere especially in school and makes reader fuck her anywhere and doesn’t care about getting caught
Risk and Ruin
Pairing: Nerdy g!p Reader x Mean Daniela Avanzini
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), g!p reader, semi-public sex, risk of exposure/exhibitionism, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, dirty talk, power imbalance, mean/bratty dom Daniela, possessive behavior, strong language,
The library at the back of the elite private academy smelled like old paper and polished oak. Sunlight slanted through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. You were tucked into the farthest corner, headphones on, glasses slipping down your nose as you annotated a dense physics text. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, pencil tapping rhythmically—classic nerd camouflage. Safe. Invisible.
Until Daniela Avanzini decided you weren’t.
She appeared like a storm in designer skirts: long dark hair cascading over one shoulder, uniform blouse unbuttoned one too many times, lips painted that signature blood-red. The mean girl. The one who ruled hallways with a smirk and a cutting tongue. Everyone knew better than to cross her. Everyone except you, apparently, because she’d caught you staring once—two weeks ago in the courtyard—and decided you belonged to her now.
You felt her before you saw her. The shift in the air. The way conversations outside the stacks quieted. Then her scent—expensive vanilla and something sharper—wrapped around you as she slid into the seat across from yours.
“Eyes up, four-eyes,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough.
You looked. Big mistake. Her eyes were dark fire, lashes heavy. She propped her chin on her hand, studying you like you were a puzzle she’d already solved.
“I’m busy,” you muttered, trying to sound firm. Your voice cracked anyway.
Daniela’s smile was slow, cruelly sweet. “You’re always busy. Buried in books while your cock’s probably aching under that ugly hoodie. Poor little nerd.” She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that went straight to your groin. “Bet it’s hard right now just from me sitting here.”
Heat flooded your face. You were hard. Painfully so. The thick length of your cock strained against your uniform slacks, trapped and throbbing at the mere sound of her voice. She always did this—knew exactly how to unravel you.
“Daniela, we’re in the library—”
“Shut up.” She stood gracefully, rounded the table, and dropped to her knees between your legs before you could protest. The heavy wooden table hid her completely from anyone glancing down the aisle. Heart hammering, you glanced around. A few students milled about three rows away. Someone coughed. Pages turned.
Her fingers made quick work of your zipper. “Look at me.”
You did. Her eyes locked on yours as she freed your cock—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. The cool library air hit sensitive skin and you bit your lip hard.
“Fuck, it’s so pretty when it’s this needy,” she purred. No hesitation. She leaned in and took you into her hot, wet mouth in one smooth glide.
A strangled sound escaped your throat. You gripped the edge of the table as her tongue swirled around the head, sucking greedily. Daniela didn’t tease today; she devoured. Hollowed cheeks, obscene slurping sounds barely muffled by the table. She bobbed deep, throat relaxing to take half your length, then more, until her nose brushed your pelvis.
“Shit—Daniela,” you hissed, one hand fisting in her hair before you could stop yourself.
She hummed around you, the vibration shooting pleasure up your spine. Her free hand pumped the base she couldn’t swallow, slick with spit. Every pass of her lips was filthy, perfect pressure, her mean little tongue pressing against the underside just how you liked. You could hear footsteps nearby. A chair scraping. The danger made everything sharper.
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to your glistening cock. “Don’t you dare come yet,” she warned, voice husky. “You’re going to fuck me right here.”
Your brain short-circuited. “What? No, someone will—”
She stood, turned, and hiked her skirt up in one motion. No panties. Of course. Her bare ass and slick pussy were right there, glistening. She braced her hands on the table and looked back over her shoulder, eyes blazing with challenge.
“Fuck me, nerd. Or I’ll scream your name and let everyone see what a desperate slut you are for me.”
You were standing before your mind caught up. Hands on her hips, you lined up the fat head of your cock with her dripping entrance and pushed in. One long, relentless thrust. She was tight, scorching hot, already clenching around you like she wanted to milk you dry.
Daniela moaned low, head falling forward. “That’s it. All the way. Fill me up.”
You bottomed out, balls pressed against her, and started moving. Hard, deep strokes that made the table creak softly. Her pussy fluttered around every inch, greedy and wet. The sound of skin meeting skin was quiet but unmistakable if anyone came closer. You reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles while you fucked her.
“Yes—fuck, right there,” she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. Her walls squeezed you rhythmically, drawing you deeper. “Harder. I want to feel you for days.”
You gave it to her. Snapping your hips, pounding into her slick heat while trying desperately not to groan too loud. Her juices ran down your shaft, coating your balls. The risk was intoxicating—anyone could walk around the corner and see the queen of the school bent over getting railed by the quiet nerd.
Daniela came first, sudden and violent. Her pussy clamped down, pulsing, a gush of wetness flooding around your cock as she bit her own arm to stay quiet. The sight and sensation broke you. You buried yourself deep and came hard, thick ropes of cum painting her insides, spilling out around your shaft as you kept shallowly thrusting through it.
She straightened after a moment, turned, and kissed you filthy—tongue and teeth and possession. Then she tucked your spent cock back into your pants with surprising gentleness, patted your cheek, and whispered, “Good girl. My turn to pick the next spot.”
It became a pattern. A dangerous, addictive game.
The next day it was the girls’ bathroom during lunch. Daniela dragged you into the largest stall, locked the door, and shoved you against the wall. “On your knees.”
You dropped. She lifted one leg over your shoulder, skirt around her waist, and rode your face until she was shaking, smearing her slick all over your mouth and glasses. When she came, she ground down hard, whispering the filthiest praise: “Such a good fucking tongue. My perfect nerd. Lick it all up.”
Then she bent over the sink, hands braced on the mirror, and made you fuck her from behind while she watched your reflection. “Look how desperate you are for my cunt. Pathetic. But it’s mine.” You filled her again, cum dripping down her thighs when she walked out like nothing happened, leaving you to clean up and hide the evidence.
After class, the empty stairwell. She rode you on the steps, skirt spread over your lap, grinding slow and deep while footsteps echoed somewhere above. Every time someone passed a floor up, she clenched around you and smirked at your panicked expression. “Don’t stop. I want your cum leaking out of me during practice.”
You gave it to her, groaning into her neck as you pumped her full again.
The tension built like a storm. Daniela grew bolder. Meaner in the sweetest way.
In the locker room after hours, she pushed you onto a bench and sank down onto your cock reverse cowgirl, facing the door. Anyone could walk in. She bounced on you with athletic grace, ass rippling, pussy swallowing every thick inch. “Imagine the look on their faces,” she panted, reaching back to spread herself wider. “Seeing the school’s bitch getting stuffed by your fat nerd dick.”
You gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, the wet slap echoing. Her moans grew louder on purpose. You had to muffle her with your hand, which only made her ride you harder, pussy gushing.
When you came, she stayed seated, clenching to keep every drop inside. Then she turned, dropped to her knees, and cleaned you with her mouth—slow, worshipful licks mixed with that sharp, mean smile.
“You’re ruining me,” you whispered, voice wrecked.
“Good,” she said, kissing the tip of your cock. “I want you obsessed. I want you hard every time you see me.”
The peak came during a late-night study session in the science wing. The building was mostly empty. Daniela had you bent over a lab table, skirt flipped up, taking you from behind again. Deep, punishing strokes. Your glasses fogged. Her nails dug into your forearms where you braced yourself.
“Tell me you love it,” she demanded, voice breathy but commanding.
“I love it—fuck, I love your pussy, Daniela. Love how you use me.”
She laughed, low and pleased, then reached back to play with your balls, squeezing just right. “Come on, fill me again. Breed me right here where anyone could walk by and see what a whore I am for you.”
The words sent you over. You slammed deep and unloaded, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding her. She came with you, walls milking every drop, a broken moan escaping despite her efforts to stay quiet.
After, she turned in your arms and kissed you properly—slow, deep, almost tender beneath the meanness. Her fingers traced your jaw.
“You’re mine now,” she said softly. “Everywhere. Anytime. Don’t you dare hide that cock from me again.”
You nodded, dazed, cock twitching back to life already at the promise in her eyes.
The bell tower. The rooftop. The back of the auditorium during rehearsal. Every stolen moment was hotter than the last—her mouth on you in the parking lot at dusk, your cock buried in her throat while she looked up with tear-streaked mascara and wicked satisfaction. Fucking her against the vending machine in the deserted hallway, the mechanical hum covering the sounds of her begging for more.
Daniela never cared about getting caught. She thrived on it. And you—quiet, nerdy, hopelessly gone for her—gave her everything she demanded.
Can I request equally freaky and obsessed Megan x g!p reader who can't keep their hands off each other even in public spaces?
Of course no matter how much they lust off each other or after literally fucking like animals they'd always end it in a slow, romantic lovemaking that actually shows they love each other
Entwined in Shadows and Starlight
Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x g!p Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), g!p reader, obsessive possessiveness, semi-public and risky sexual acts, rough/passionate sex, primal elements, fingering, oral, penetrative sex, slight choking/breath play, cum play, multiple orgasms, aftercare, fluffy romantic lovemaking. Consensual but intensely lust-driven. No plot-heavy angst, pure indulgent romance between two adults deeply in love.
The city pulsed around you like a living heartbeat, neon lights bleeding into the humid night air as you and Megan slipped out of the back entrance of the venue. Her latest performance with KATSEYE still echoed in your veins—the way her body moved on stage, fluid and commanding, hips rolling with that effortless charisma that made thousands scream her name. But only you knew the version of her that unraveled completely under your touch.
Her hand was already in yours, fingers laced tight, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. Megan’s thumb traced circles on your wrist, a silent promise, as the crowd noise faded behind you. She glanced up, those dark eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper, hungrier.
“Baby,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough from singing. “I can’t wait anymore.”
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pulled her into the shadowed alcove between two buildings, the alley barely lit by a distant streetlamp. Her back hit the cool brick wall with a soft gasp that turned into a pleased hum as your mouth claimed hers. The kiss was immediate fire—teeth nipping, tongues sliding, her hands fisting in your shirt as if she could pull you inside her soul.
Megan Skiendiel was obsession incarnate, and you were her perfect mirror. From the moment you met, it had been like this: a gravitational pull that defied reason. Public spaces be damned. Your hands roamed greedily over her waist, slipping under the hem of her cropped top to feel the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. She arched into you, a soft whine escaping as your thigh pressed between hers.
“Fuck, I need you,” she breathed against your lips, grinding down shamelessly. Her fingers tugged at your belt, impatient. “Right here. Please.”
The risk made it sharper—the distant hum of traffic, the possibility of footsteps. You dropped to your knees on the gritty pavement, not caring about the dirt, and hiked up her skirt. Her panties were already soaked; you tore them aside and buried your face between her thighs. Megan’s head fell back against the wall with a choked moan, one hand tangling in your hair as your tongue delved deep, tasting her sweetness mixed with the faint salt of her sweat from the stage.
She was vocal, always—gasping your name like a prayer, hips rolling against your mouth in desperate circles. “Yes—right there, don’t stop—oh god, you’re so good to me.” Her thighs trembled around your ears as you sucked her clit, two fingers curling inside her heat. She came hard and fast, biting her lip to muffle the cry, body shuddering as waves crashed through her.
You stood, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and she pulled you into another devouring kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. Your cock strained painfully against your pants; she palmed it eagerly, squeezing with just the right pressure.
“Your turn,” she whispered, eyes dark with lust. But before you could protest, she was sinking down, elegant even on her knees in an alley, freeing you with practiced hands. The sight of Megan Skiendiel—idol, star, your everything—looking up at you with those plush lips wrapped around your length was almost too much. She took you deep, throat relaxing, eyes watering but never breaking contact. Her tongue swirled, hollowed cheeks sucking with obscene devotion.
You groaned, hips bucking, hand gentle in her hair despite the primal urge to fuck her face raw. She hummed around you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. It didn’t take long; you spilled down her throat with a guttural sound, and she swallowed every drop, licking you clean with a satisfied little smile.
But this was only the beginning. The night was young, and your hunger for each other was endless.
Back at the hotel, the door barely clicked shut before clothes were shed in a frantic trail across the floor. Megan pushed you onto the bed, straddling your hips, her bare skin glowing under the low lamp light. She was beautiful—lithe dancer’s body, curves that fit perfectly against you, long hair cascading like ink over her shoulders.
You flipped her beneath you, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. “Mine,” you growled, nipping at her collarbone, leaving marks that would need careful covering tomorrow. She laughed breathlessly, wrapping her legs around your waist, urging you closer.
“Yours. Always.”
You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, welcoming heat. Megan cried out, nails raking down your back as you set a punishing rhythm—deep, hard strokes that had the headboard slamming against the wall. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mingled with her moans and your grunts. She clenched around you, soaking your cock, begging for more.
“Harder—fuck me like you mean it,” she demanded, and you obliged, pounding into her with animalistic need. You lifted her legs over your shoulders, folding her nearly in half, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Another orgasm ripped through her, walls fluttering wildly, pulling you deeper.
You didn’t stop. Flipping her onto all fours, you re-entered her from behind, one hand fisting her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She pushed back against you, meeting every thrust, lost in the frenzy. Sweat slicked your bodies; the air grew thick with the scent of sex. You reached around to rub her clit, and she shattered again, sobbing your name.
Only when exhaustion began to creep in did the pace shift.
You slowed, pulling out gently despite her whimper of protest. Turning her onto her back, you settled between her thighs once more, this time sliding in with aching tenderness. Megan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. The raw lust softened into something profound—love so vast it bordered on worship.
Your movements were languid now, deep rolls of your hips that let her feel every inch, every ridge. You kissed her slowly, pouring everything into it: the fear of losing her to the spotlight, the joy of her laughter in quiet mornings, the way she looked at you like you hung the moon. Her hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if memorizing you.
“I love you,” she whispered against your mouth, voice breaking with emotion. “So much it hurts sometimes.”
You thrust deeper, grinding against her clit with every stroke. “I love you more. My beautiful girl. My everything.”
Tears pricked her eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming intimacy. You made love to her like time had stopped, savoring every sigh, every flutter of her walls. Her legs wrapped around you, heels digging into your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. Orgasms came again, but gentler this time—rolling waves that left you both trembling, connected soul to soul.
You came inside her with a quiet groan, filling her with warmth as she clenched around you, milking every drop. For long minutes afterward, you stayed buried deep, trading soft kisses and whispered endearments. You pulled out only to gather her in your arms, her head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.
In the afterglow, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no stages, no fans, no cameras. Just Megan—your Megan—curled against you, breathing steady, heart beating in sync with yours.
“You know we’re going to get caught one day,” she murmured sleepily, a smile in her voice.
You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it. I’d fuck you on the Eiffel Tower if you asked.”
She laughed, the sound pure sunlight, and nuzzled closer. “Romantic.”
“Only for you.”
The night stretched on in quiet contentment, bodies entwined, love wrapping around you both like a promise. No matter how wild the hunger, it always circled back here—to this slow, sacred joining that reminded you why you were obsessed in the first place.
