Oopsallcannibals

[oopsallcannibals]

May I request a part 2 of abusive G!p reader x pregnant Megan where Megan’s water breaks during sex and during the birth of their daughter, nurse!sophia and nurse!daniela quickly realizes that something’s wrong (maybe because of trace of sexual abuse on her privates parts or smth like that??) and megan ends up with supported housing and a psychologist because of severe ptsd (you can do wtv you want with reader)

Shattered Veil (Part 2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it happened.

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

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

The labor was hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While you waited outside, the system moved.

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

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

Four Months Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Megan pressed a gentle kiss to Lily’s forehead.

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

For the first time since you had trapped her, Megan Skiendiel dared to believe in tomorrow.

[oopsallcannibals]

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.

Because the risk was worth the ruin.

[oopsallcannibals]

g!p reader x (pre wish) nikki freeman

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

Jealousy Looks Good on You

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

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

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

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

Tonight, though, Sarah was on a mission.

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

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

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

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

You were too busy being politely dense to catch it.

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

That was the final straw.

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

You blinked. “What? Nikki, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Condom?” you managed, barely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’d never been more okay with being claimed.

[oopsallcannibals]

Sweeter Than Memory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lara… you’re soaked.”

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

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

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

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

“We can stop. This doesn’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lara—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lara… you’re so tight.”

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

You couldn’t deny her. Not anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled, soft and victorious, and kissed you like she’d never let you go.

[oopsallcannibals]

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.

She was your addiction. Your home. Your forever.

[oopsallcannibals]

Velvet Bruises and Spit-Shined Submission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swallow.”

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

You smiled. It wasn’t kind.

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

“On your knees.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck—harder,” she gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t done.

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

“Too much—fuck, I can’t—”

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

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

You kept going.

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

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

“Clean them.”

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

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

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

And she’d loved every second of it.

[oopsallcannibals]

To my followers,

I wanted to share a quick update. Over the past period, I was able to write and post many oneshots because I had significant free time. However, my schedule has now become tighter, meaning I will have less time available moving forward.

I will continue posting, but at a reduced pace of around 2 to 3 oneshots per day. Unfortunately, this may require me to decline or ignore some requests, and I sincerely apologize for that.

Thank you for your understanding.

And I'll also deactivate anon for a bit, to keep up with all requests.

[oopsallcannibals]

LITERALLY ANYTHING DANON, IT ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT MATTER BUT I NEED MORE OF THEM PLSSSSS

Midnight Bloom

Pairing: Daniela Avanzini x Manon Bannerman

Warnings: Explicit NSFW content, detailed consensual lesbian sex, intimate touching, oral sex, fingering, light edging, emotional vulnerability. 18+ only.

The city lights filtered through the half-drawn curtains of their shared hotel room like scattered stars, soft and distant. The air still carried the faint echo of the stage—sweat, adrenaline, the low hum of bass that had vibrated through their bones for hours. But here, in the quiet after midnight, everything slowed.

Daniela stood by the window, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass of water. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, still slightly damp from the quick shower she’d taken. She wore nothing but an oversized t-shirt that skimmed the tops of her thighs, the fabric soft against her skin. She could feel Manon’s eyes on her before she even turned around.

Manon was already in bed, propped against the pillows, wearing one of Daniela’s stolen shirts. The neckline slipped off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of her collarbone. Her long legs were stretched out, bare, the sheet pooled low around her hips. She looked peaceful, almost ethereal in the low light—those sharp, expressive eyes half-lidded, lips curved in the smallest, knowing smile.

“You’re staring,” Daniela said softly, setting the glass down.

“So are you,” Manon replied, voice low and warm, like velvet brushed against skin.

Daniela crossed the room slowly, the carpet soft under her feet. When she reached the bed, she climbed onto it without breaking eye contact. The mattress dipped under her weight. Manon shifted, opening her arms, and Daniela settled into them like she belonged there. Their bodies aligned naturally—chest to chest, thigh slipping between thighs, breath mingling.

For a long moment, they just held each other. No rush. The kind of quiet that only came after long days and louder nights. Daniela pressed her face into the crook of Manon’s neck, inhaling the clean scent of her skin—soap, a trace of vanilla from her lotion, and something uniquely her.

“I missed this,” Daniela whispered against her throat. “Just us.”

Manon’s fingers traced slow circles along Daniela’s spine, slipping under the hem of her shirt to find warm, bare skin. “Me too. The stage is loud… but this…” She exhaled, long and content. “This is everything.”

Their mouths met in a kiss that started gentle—lips brushing, tasting, relearning. Then it deepened. Manon’s hand slid up to cup the back of Daniela’s head, fingers threading through her hair. Daniela sighed into her mouth, parting her lips, inviting more. Their tongues met, slow and sensual, a lazy dance that sent heat blooming low in their bellies.

Daniela shifted, straddling Manon’s hips. The shirt rode up, and Manon’s hands found her waist immediately, thumbs stroking the soft skin just beneath her ribs. They kissed like they had all the time in the world—deep, unhurried, savoring every sigh and small sound.

Manon pulled back just enough to look at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, voice husky. Her hands moved higher, cupping Daniela’s breasts through the thin fabric. Thumbs brushed over already-hard nipples, drawing a quiet gasp from Daniela.

“Manon…” The name came out breathy, needy.

Manon sat up slightly, pulling Daniela’s shirt over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air kissed her skin, but Manon’s hands were warm as they explored—palming, squeezing gently, then leaning in to take one nipple into her mouth. Her tongue swirled, slow and deliberate, teeth grazing just enough to make Daniela arch into her.

Daniela’s head fell back, a low moan escaping her lips. Her hands found Manon’s shoulders, nails digging in lightly as pleasure sparked through her. Manon switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, sucking until Daniela was trembling.

They moved together, fluid and instinctive. Daniela tugged at Manon’s shirt until it joined hers on the floor. Skin met skin—warm, soft, electric. Breasts pressed together as they kissed again, hips rolling in a slow rhythm that built heat between them.

Manon’s hand slipped between their bodies, fingers tracing down Daniela’s stomach, over the curve of her hip, then lower. She cupped her gently at first, feeling the slick heat already gathering there. Daniela whimpered, pushing into her touch.

“So wet for me already,” Manon whispered against her lips, voice thick with want. Her fingers parted slick folds, stroking slowly up and down, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of each pass.

Daniela rocked against her hand, chasing the friction. “Please… don’t tease tonight.”

Manon smiled, soft and adoring. “I won’t. I want to feel you.” She slid one finger inside, then two, curling them just right. Daniela gasped, clenching around her. The stretch was perfect, familiar, devastating in the best way.

They found a rhythm—Manon’s fingers thrusting deep and slow, thumb circling her clit with steady pressure. Daniela rode her hand, breasts bouncing lightly with each movement, mouth open in silent cries. Manon watched her with dark, hungry eyes, drinking in every expression, every shudder.

“You feel so good,” Manon breathed. “So tight around my fingers. Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Daniela came with a broken moan, body tensing, thighs shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Manon kept moving, drawing it out, gentling her touch only when Daniela collapsed forward, burying her face in Manon’s neck.

They stayed like that for a while, trading soft kisses and whispered praises. Manon’s fingers eventually slipped free, glistening. Daniela caught her wrist and brought those fingers to her own mouth, tasting herself while holding Manon’s gaze. The sound Manon made was low and primal.

“Your turn,” Daniela said, voice rough with lingering pleasure.

She kissed her way down Manon’s body—collarbones, the valley between her breasts, the soft plane of her stomach. She lingered at her hips, nipping gently, then settled between her spread thighs. Manon’s pussy was glistening, swollen, beautiful. Daniela pressed a reverent kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, before leaning in.

The first lick was slow, broad, from entrance to clit. Manon’s hips jerked, a soft curse falling from her lips. Daniela smiled against her and did it again, savoring the taste, the way Manon melted under her tongue.

She took her time—exploring every fold, circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, then sucking it gently between her lips. Two fingers slid inside Manon easily, curling to find that spot that made her back arch off the bed.

“Daniela—fuck—right there,” Manon gasped, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangling in Daniela’s hair.

Daniela hummed in response, the vibration sending sparks through Manon. She fucked her with her fingers in steady strokes while her mouth worked her clit, alternating between suction and soft, rapid flicks. Manon’s thighs trembled around her head, breath coming in short, desperate pants.

When she came, it was with a long, shuddering cry—body tightening, pulsing around Daniela’s fingers, hips grinding against her face. Daniela didn’t stop until Manon gently pushed her away, oversensitive and breathless.

They came together again in the center of the bed, limbs tangled, kissing deeply. Hands roamed freely—caressing breasts, tracing spines, squeezing asses. The room filled with the sounds of them: wet kisses, breathy moans, the slick slide of fingers and tongues.

At one point, Daniela lay on her back with Manon above her, their pussies pressed together in a slow grind. The heat, the friction, the way their clits rubbed with every roll of hips—it was overwhelming. They moved together like a dance, foreheads pressed, eyes locked. Sweat slicked their skin. Whispers of “I love you” and “so good” and “don’t stop” filled the space between kisses.

Manon reached down, fingers joining the rhythm, rubbing both of them as they rocked faster. The pressure built again, tighter, hotter. They came almost at the same time—gasping into each other’s mouths, bodies shuddering, clinging tight.

Afterward, they lay in a boneless heap, limbs intertwined, hearts slowing. Manon traced lazy patterns on Daniela’s arm. Daniela pressed soft kisses to her shoulder, her jaw, her temple.

Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, the world had narrowed to just them—the warmth of skin, the steady beat of hearts, the quiet peace of being completely known and completely loved.

Manon turned her head, brushing her nose against Daniela’s. “Stay like this forever?”

Daniela smiled, slow and sated. “Yeah. I think we can manage that.”

They fell asleep like that—entwined, safe, glowing with the aftershocks of pleasure and the deeper, quieter joy of connection. The kind of night that reminded them why all the noise outside was worth it: because it always led back here, to each other.

[oopsallcannibals]

Can you do G!p puppy reader x jealous Lara?

Like Lara shows off her gf at any point but one day someone gets too close or says something out of line and Lara is taking that frustration out on her

Mine to Claim

Pairing: Lara Raj x Puppy Reader (G!P)

Warnings: Explicit smut, jealousy/possessive behavior, rough sex, riding, oral, fingering, slight degradation kink, praise, overstimulation, established relationship, semi-public tension. 18+ only. Consensual but intense.

The gala was exactly the kind of event Lara thrived in—crystal chandeliers dripping light over marble floors, champagne flutes catching every sparkle, and people who pretended they mattered. She looked devastating in a backless black gown that clung to her curves like it had been poured over her body. Her dark hair was swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck, and every time she moved, the slit in the dress flashed a dangerous amount of thigh.

You stayed close, as always. Her puppy. That was what she called you in the soft, private moments between kisses and whispered commands. You wore a tailored suit that she had picked out herself, the jacket hugging your shoulders, the trousers doing nothing to hide the way your body reacted whenever she looked at you with that half-lidded, knowing gaze.

Lara loved showing you off. Her hand stayed possessively on your lower back or laced with yours as she introduced you to diplomats, investors, and socialites. “This is my girlfriend,” she’d say, voice smooth as silk, thumb stroking your knuckles. Each time she said it, a little thrill ran through you. You were hers. Proudly. Openly.

You fetched her drinks, made her laugh with quiet jokes against her ear, and kept that eager, attentive energy that made her eyes darken with affection. Puppy behavior, she teased. Always ready to please her.

The night had been perfect until it wasn’t.

A tall man in an expensive suit—some tech mogul whose name you’d already forgotten—had been lingering too long near your circle. His compliments started polite enough, directed at Lara’s latest project, but they quickly shifted. His eyes dragged over her body in a way that made your jaw tighten. Then he turned to you with a dismissive smirk.

“Must be nice, having a pretty thing on your arm to keep you entertained,” he said to Lara, as if you weren’t standing right there. “Though I imagine someone like you could do better than playing house with… well.”

The implication hung in the air like smoke. Too close. Too bold. Out of line.

Lara’s smile didn’t falter in public, but you felt the shift in her body—the way her fingers dug into your arm, the subtle straightening of her spine. Her voice stayed velvet, but the edge was there. “I think you’ve mistaken my patience for interest. Excuse us.”

She steered you away before he could respond, her grip tight enough to bruise. The rest of the evening passed in a haze of forced conversation, but you could feel the storm building under her skin. Her touches grew sharper, her glances heavier. By the time the car door shut behind you both, the tension was thick enough to taste.

The ride home was silent except for the low hum of the engine. Lara’s hand rested on your thigh, nails scraping lightly over the fabric, inching higher with every block. You shifted, already half-hard from the promise in her touch, but she didn’t look at you. Not yet.

The moment the penthouse door clicked shut, she turned on you.

“On the couch,” she ordered, voice low and commanding.

You obeyed instantly, shedding your jacket and sinking into the leather. Lara kicked off her heels, the gown whispering as she stalked toward you. The jealousy was rolling off her in waves—hot, possessive, hungry.

“He thought he could look at you like that? At what’s mine?” she hissed, climbing onto your lap. Her knees bracketed your hips as she grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze up to hers. “Like I’d ever let anyone else have you. Like you’d ever want anyone else.”

“I don’t,” you breathed, hands settling on her waist. “Only you, Lara. Always.”

“Good puppy.” The praise hit like a drug. She kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue, claiming your mouth like she needed to erase every lingering doubt. Her hips rolled down against you, feeling the thick length of your cock straining against your trousers. You groaned into her mouth, already aching.

She pulled back just enough to yank the zipper of your pants down, freeing you. Your cock sprang heavy and flushed against your stomach, the head already glistening. Lara wrapped her fingers around the base, squeezing just hard enough to make your hips buck.

“Look at you,” she murmured, voice dripping with heat. “So hard for me already. Leaking like a desperate little thing. That’s my cock, isn’t it? Mine to use when I want.”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you gasped.

She stroked you slowly, twisting her wrist at the head, spreading the slickness down your shaft. Her thumb pressed over the sensitive underside, drawing a broken whimper from your throat. You were her puppy—eager, obedient, utterly addicted to the way she took control.

Lara stood just long enough to shimmy the gown off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace panties that were already soaked. She stepped out of them gracefully, then pushed you back against the cushions.

“Hands on my hips,” she commanded as she straddled you again. “You don’t get to move unless I say so.”

You gripped her soft curves, thumbs brushing the dip of her waist. She reached between you, guiding the thick head of your cock through her folds, coating you in her wetness. The heat of her was scorching. She teased herself with it, rubbing your tip against her swollen clit until she shivered.

Then she sank down.

The first inch stretched her open, a low moan tearing from her throat. You bit your lip hard, fighting the urge to thrust up. Inch by inch, she took you—tight, wet, perfect—until her ass rested against your thighs and you were buried to the hilt inside her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “So big. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

She started riding you slowly, rolling her hips in deep, grinding circles that made your cock drag against every sensitive spot inside her. Her walls clenched around you rhythmically, hot and silky. The wet sounds of her pussy taking your cock filled the room—obscene, filthy, intoxicating.

Lara’s hands braced on your shoulders as she picked up speed. Her breasts bounced with every drop of her hips, nipples hard and begging for attention. You leaned in, sucking one into your mouth, tongue flicking as she gasped and rode you harder.

“That’s it,” she praised, voice husky. “Suck on them while I fuck myself on your cock. Such a good puppy.”

Jealousy still burned in her eyes, fueling every movement. She slammed down harder, taking you deeper, her ass slapping against your thighs. You could feel her getting wetter, dripping down your shaft and onto your balls with every bounce.

“Mine,” she growled, nails digging into your shoulders. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to feel how hard you get, how deep you go. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned against her skin. “Only yours, Lara. Fuck—please—”

She rode you like she was punishing you for the audacity of that man even existing near what belonged to her. Her pace turned brutal—fast, relentless drops that made her clit grind against your pelvis on every downstroke. Her moans grew louder, breathier, breaking into whimpers when you hit that perfect spot inside her.

You felt her thighs start to tremble. One hand left your shoulder to rub tight circles over her clit as she chased her orgasm.

“Come on,” you urged softly, voice wrecked. “Come for me, baby. Want to feel you squeezing my cock.”

Lara cried out, back arching as she shattered. Her pussy clamped down hard around you, pulsing in waves as she came. Hot, slick wetness flooded around your length, soaking you further. She kept riding through it, drawing out every shudder until she was gasping, oversensitive.

But she didn’t stop.

Instead, she pushed you flat on your back along the couch and braced her hands on your chest. The new angle let her take you even deeper. She rode you with single-minded intensity, hips snapping, ass bouncing, using your cock like her personal toy.

“Again,” she demanded. “You’re going to make me come again, and you’re not allowed to finish until I say so.”

You nodded frantically, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips hard enough to leave marks. The sight of her above you—hair falling loose, lips parted, eyes dark with lust and possession—was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Sweat glistened on her skin. Her breasts swayed heavily with every punishing drop onto your cock.

You could feel your own orgasm building, a tight coil at the base of your spine, but you held back. For her. Always for her.

Lara leaned forward, changing the angle so your cock dragged right against her front wall. Her moans turned into desperate, broken sounds. “Right there—fuck, puppy, don’t stop—”

You thrust up to meet her now, unable to stay completely still. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed louder. She rubbed her clit faster, grinding down, chasing that second peak.

When it hit her, she screamed your name. Her whole body seized, pussy gushing around your cock as she came even harder than before. The rhythmic clenching milked you relentlessly, pushing you right to the edge.

“Please, Lara,” you begged, voice hoarse. “I need—fuck, I’m so close—”

She slowed just enough to look down at you, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “Not yet. Hold it.”

She kept riding you through her aftershocks, slower, deeper, torturing you with tight rolls of her hips. Every time you twitched inside her, she clenched deliberately, drawing a strangled groan from you.

Only when your arms were shaking and you were whimpering did she finally lean down, biting your lower lip.

“Come,” she whispered against your mouth. “Fill me up, puppy. Give me everything.”

You broke with a guttural moan, hips jerking up as you spilled deep inside her. Thick ropes of cum pulsed into her waiting heat, flooding her until it started leaking out around your cock with every shallow thrust. Lara milked you through it, riding you gently now, savoring every twitch and spurt.

When you finally stilled, panting and spent, she stayed seated on you, your softening cock still buried inside her warmth. She kissed you softly this time—slow, tender, grounding.

“No one else,” she murmured, brushing damp hair from your forehead. “You’re my good girl. My puppy. Mine.”

“Yours,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around her.

She smiled against your lips, the jealousy finally banked into warm, possessive satisfaction.

The gala was long forgotten. There was only this—her body wrapped around yours, your cum dripping out of her, and the quiet promise that she would remind you exactly who you belonged to as many times as it took.

[oopsallcannibals]

Can you do abusive pg reader x pregnant megan

Where megan is 18 and r is 30 and r only told their real age right after they baby trapped her and now megan is 8 months pregnant and dropped out of school bcs of r who forces her to stay in the relationship and have sex by threatening her and being violent

Owned in Full Bloom

Pairing: Abusive 30!Reader x Pregnant 18!Megan Skiendiel

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Extremely dark, explicit content. Heavy non-con/dub-con, brutal physical abuse, choking, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, degradation, humiliation, forced breeding, lactation play, pregnancy kink, rough breeding sex, threats, isolation, violence during sex.

The apartment reeked of sex and fear. Megan Skiendiel, just eighteen and eight months pregnant with your baby, stood in the kitchen trying to make tea. Her once-athletic body was now soft and heavy—belly massively swollen, hanging low and round, stretch marks gleaming across her skin like trophies you’d carved into her. Her full, milk-leaking tits strained against the tiny tank top you forced her to wear. No bra. No panties. Just easy access for whenever your cock got hard.

You’d lied from the start. Told her you were twenty-four, a girl who had her shit together. She fell hard for the confidence, the way you touched her like you owned her. You knocked her up deliberately—fucked her raw night after night until your cum took. The second the test was positive you told her your real age. Thirty. And that she wasn’t leaving.

She tried once. You beat her ass black and blue, choked her until she passed out, then fucked her unconscious body and came so deep she woke up leaking you. After that she dropped out of school. You deleted her accounts, burned her things, and kept her locked away. Now she was nothing but your pregnant fucktoy.

“Get in here, Megan.”

She waddled in immediately, eyes downcast. You were sprawled on the couch in just a tank top, your thick cock already hard and resting against your stomach. As a woman you were sleek and strong, curves mixed with raw power—perfect for breaking soft little girls like her.

You snapped your fingers. “On your knees. Now.”

Megan lowered herself carefully, belly resting on your thighs. Her small hands wrapped around your heavy cock, stroking the thick veined length.

“Suck it like the worthless pregnant whore you are.”

She opened her mouth and took you in, lips stretching wide. You immediately fisted her hair and slammed her head down, forcing every inch into her tight throat. She gagged violently, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Fuck yes. Choke on my cock, baby. This is what you were made for—taking dick and swelling up with my kid.”

You face-fucked her brutally, balls slapping her chin, spit and tears dripping onto her leaking tits. Every time she tried to pull back you slapped her cheek hard and shoved deeper.

“Look at you. Eighteen years old, belly so big you can’t even see your own pussy anymore, and still sucking cock like a pro. Pathetic.”

When you finally pulled out she gasped for air, coughing. You slapped her face again, harder, leaving a red mark.

“Bed. All fours. Ass up.”

She crawled onto the bed, pregnant belly hanging low, soaked pussy on full display. You climbed behind her and spit directly on her hole before slamming your cock inside in one vicious thrust.

Megan screamed.

You didn’t care. You gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and started pounding her mercilessly, hips snapping with brutal force. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with her broken sobs.

“Too deep—please—the baby—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You yanked her hair back hard, arching her spine. “This baby is mine. I put it there. I’ll fuck you however I want.”

You reached around and slapped her swollen clit repeatedly while railing her. Her pussy clenched desperately around your thick cock, gushing despite the pain.

You leaned over her pregnant body, one hand wrapping around her throat from behind and squeezing until her vision blurred.

“You’re nothing without me. No school. No friends. No future. Just my pregnant cumdump.” You bit her shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “Say it.”

“I’m your pregnant cumdump,” she sobbed. “Only yours—”

You fucked her harder, cock bullying her cervix with every thrust. Milk leaked steadily from her swinging tits onto the sheets. You reached under and squeezed one brutally, spraying milk everywhere as you used her.

When she came it was violent—her whole body shaking, pussy milking your cock like it was trying to drain you. You laughed darkly and kept going, chasing your own release. You buried yourself to the hilt and flooded her, pumping thick ropes of cum so deep it would stay there for days.

You pulled out and watched it leak from her ruined hole, then shoved three fingers in to push it back inside.

“Can’t waste it. Might knock you up again right after this one.”

Hours blurred. You took her again and again, more savage each time.

You flipped her onto her back, legs pushed wide and pinned to her shoulders. Her massive belly rested between you as you drove your cock into her with punishing strokes. One hand choked her throat, the other slapped her leaking tits until they were red and covered in handprints.

“Fucking look at these udders. Leaking milk like a cow because I bred you so good.” You leaned down and sucked hard on one nipple, drinking her sweet milk while you destroyed her pussy.

Megan wailed, overstimulated and crying, but her hips still twitched up to meet your thrusts.

You pulled out suddenly, dragged her to the edge of the bed, and made her ride you. She straddled your hips, heavy belly pressing against your stomach as she sank down onto your cock. You slapped her face.

“Bounce, slut. Fuck yourself on my dick like the desperate knocked-up dropout you are.”

She rode you with everything she had, tears streaming, milk spraying from her tits with every bounce. You gripped her hips and slammed her down harder, meeting her with brutal upward thrusts. Your free hand wrapped around her throat again, squeezing rhythmically as you degraded her.

“Stupid little girl. Thought you could have a life? Nah. You exist to warm my cock and carry my babies now. Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she gasped, voice hoarse. “Thank you for knocking me up—”

You rewarded her by rubbing her clit viciously until she squirted all over your cock and stomach. The sight made you snap. You flipped her onto her side, spooned behind her, and fucked her with short, savage strokes while choking her from behind.

“Mine. This belly. This pussy. This life. All fucking mine.”

You came again with a growl, flooding her until cum poured out around your cock. Still buried deep, you reached around and kept rubbing her oversensitive clit until she came a final time, screaming and shaking.

Later, in the dark, you pulled her against your chest. Your hand rested possessively on her massive pregnant belly, feeling your baby kick. Megan was exhausted, covered in bruises, bite marks, handprints, and your cum.

You kissed her temple almost tenderly, then whispered against her ear:

“Try to leave again and I’ll hurt you worse than you can imagine. I’ll keep you pregnant and locked away until you forget what the outside world even looks like. Understand?”

She nodded weakly, voice barely there. “Yes… I’m yours.”

You smiled in the darkness and slid your still-hard cock back inside her from behind, just resting there, plugged full of you.

“Good girl.”

Megan Skiendiel—once bright, once free—was now exactly what you had made her: your abused, pregnant, perfectly broken girl.

The night continued in waves of violence and raw pleasure. You woke her twice more—once to fuck her mouth until you painted her face and swollen tits with cum, once to eat her creamy pussy before sliding back inside and breeding her slow and deep while whispering filthy promises of more babies, more control, forever.

By morning she could barely walk, but she still crawled to you when you called. Exactly how it should be.

[oopsallcannibals]

stop using ai brochacho ✌🏻

nah i’m not using ai. i’ve been writing for years and i have zero responsibilities right now so i just sit here and type for hours. some of the prompts people send match up with old drafts i already had sitting around, that’s why it’s fast.

if it was ai it wouldn’t have my same weird little habits and phrasing i’ve built up over time. but believe whatever you want brochacho ✌🏻

[oopsallcannibals]

G!p shy loser Reader x cheerleader Lara

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.

And for you both, it really didn’t.

[oopsallcannibals]

Can you to poison ivy x g!p Harley Quinn

Harley gets trapped in ivys flowers by Messing with them and ivy finds her stuck and decides to tease her and overstimulates her and Harley can’t do anything about it

Entangled in Emerald

Pairing: Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley) x g!p Harley Quinn

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, graphic smut, overstimulation, plant bondage/restraint, teasing/edging, multiple orgasms, power imbalance,

The greenhouse air hung thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and something sharper—wild, untamed green. Vines curled like living veins across every surface, leaves glistening under filtered moonlight that slipped through the cracked glass dome. Harley Quinn had slipped in for fun, because what was life without poking the prettiest, most dangerous plant in Gotham?

She’d only meant to swipe a couple of those glowing orchids. Maybe juggle them. Maybe use them to prank Ivy later. But the moment her gloved fingers brushed the velvet petals, the flowers reacted. Tendrils shot out like emerald whips, wrapping her wrists, her ankles, her waist. One thick vine snaked between her thighs and pinned her hips against a moss-covered pillar before she could even yelp.

“Shit—hey! Easy there, green machine!” Harley laughed, twisting, but the vines only tightened. Her red-and-black suit strained against the living restraints, the fabric riding up her thighs. She was suspended just enough that her boots barely scraped the damp earth, legs spread, body arched in a helpless display.

Pamela Isley—Poison Ivy—stepped from the shadows like she’d been born from them. Her skin glowed with that otherworldly chlorophyll luminescence, red hair spilling over bare shoulders like spilled blood against green. She wore nothing but living vines that barely covered her breasts and hips, shifting lazily with each breath. Her emerald eyes narrowed, then softened into something dark and hungry as she took in the sight of her favorite chaos gremlin caught in her web.

“Well, well,” Ivy purred, voice like honeyed poison. “Look what the weeds dragged in.”

Harley grinned, breathless already. “Surprise! Thought I’d drop by for a visit. These flowers got handsy, huh?”

Ivy circled her slowly, fingertips trailing over Harley’s trapped arms. The vines responded to her touch, pulsing gently, tightening just enough to make Harley’s breath hitch. “You never could resist my babies. They like you, Harley. They can smell how much you want this.”

Harley’s cheeks flushed, but she tried to play it cool. “Want what, exactly? A leafy hug?”

Ivy stopped in front of her. Close enough that Harley could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the sweet-tart scent of her—like crushed berries and fresh rain. One delicate hand cupped Harley’s jaw, thumb brushing her painted lips. “You. Helpless. Mine.”

A thick vine slid up Harley’s inner thigh, pushing the hem of her shorts aside. Harley gasped as it brushed the growing bulge there—her cock already straining against the tight fabric, half-hard from the adrenaline and the way Ivy was looking at her.

“Pam…” Harley’s voice cracked, half protest, half plea.

“Shh.” Ivy leaned in, lips ghosting over Harley’s ear. “You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not until I’ve had my fun.”

The vines moved with Ivy’s will. They lifted Harley higher, spreading her legs wider until she was fully exposed. Her shorts were tugged down just enough to free her cock, which sprang up thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. Another vine coiled around the base, squeezing—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her aching and trapped. A second, softer tendril curled around her balls, rolling them gently, while a third brushed teasingly along the underside of her shaft.

Harley jerked, hips twitching uselessly. “Fuck—, that’s—nnngh—”

Ivy watched with rapt fascination, green eyes glowing. She stepped closer, pressing her body against Harley’s, nipples hard against the thin fabric of Harley’s top. One hand wrapped around Harley’s cock, stroking slowly from root to tip while the vines continued their work—squeezing, stroking, teasing. The contrast of warm skin and cool, living plant was maddening.

“So sensitive already,” Ivy murmured, lips brushing Harley’s throat. She nipped at the pulse point there, then soothed it with her tongue. “Look at you. My pretty little jester, dripping for me.”

Harley’s head fell back against the pillar, blonde pigtails disheveled. She tried to thrust into Ivy’s hand, but the vines held her hips immobile. All she could do was take it—every slow, torturous stroke, every pulse of the vine around her base.

Ivy dropped to her knees with predatory grace. Her breath ghosted over the head of Harley’s cock before her tongue flicked out, tasting the bead of precome. Harley moaned loud enough to echo through the greenhouse. Ivy took her time—lapping at the underside, swirling around the head, then sinking down until her nose brushed the dark curls at Harley’s base. The vine at the root loosened just enough to let Ivy deepthroat her fully, throat fluttering around the thick length.

“God—Ivy—” Harley’s voice was wrecked. Her hands flexed against the vines binding her wrists above her head. Pleasure coiled tight and hot in her belly.

Ivy pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to Harley’s glistening cock. She smiled, wicked and beautiful. “Not yet, darling. I want you desperate.”

The plants obeyed. Vines wrapped around Harley’s thighs, holding her open. A new tendril—thicker, ridged—pressed against her entrance from behind, slick with Ivy’s own natural lubricant. It pushed in slowly, stretching her, while Ivy’s mouth returned to her cock. The double sensation made Harley sob with pleasure.

Ivy fucked her with the vine in deep, rhythmic thrusts, curling it just right to brush that spot inside her that made stars burst behind Harley’s eyes. At the same time, she sucked Harley’s cock like it was her favorite treat—hollowing her cheeks, humming, using her hand on what she couldn’t swallow.

Harley came hard the first time, hips straining, cock pulsing as she spilled down Ivy’s throat. Ivy swallowed every drop, green eyes locked on Harley’s flushed face the entire time.

But she didn’t stop.

The vine inside her kept moving, slower now, dragging against her oversensitive walls. Ivy licked Harley clean, then kept licking—soft, torturous strokes over her spent cock until it twitched back to life.

“Too much— baby, I can’t—” Harley whimpered, but her cock was hardening again, traitorously eager.

“You can,” Ivy whispered against her thigh, kissing the trembling muscle there. “And you will. For me.”

She rose, pressing their bodies together. Vines shifted, repositioning Harley so her cock nestled between Ivy’s slick folds. Ivy rocked against her, coating her length in wetness, teasing the head against her clit. Then she sank down, taking Harley inside her in one smooth motion.

Both women moaned. Ivy’s walls were hot, velvet-tight, rippling around her. The vine in Harley’s ass stayed buried deep, pulsing in time with Ivy’s movements. Ivy rode her slowly at first—grinding, rolling her hips in sensual circles that made Harley feel every inch.

Harley’s head spun. The overstimulation was overwhelming; every nerve sang with too much pleasure, bordering on pain, but she couldn’t pull away. The vines held her perfectly still while Ivy used her.

Ivy’s hands roamed—pinching Harley’s nipples through her top, scratching lightly down her sides, cupping her face so she could kiss her deeply. The kiss was filthy and tender all at once, tongues sliding, Ivy swallowing every broken moan.

“You feel so good,” Ivy breathed against her lips. “Filling me up. My perfect toy.”

She picked up speed, riding harder, the wet slap of skin and the obscene sounds of the vine thrusting into Harley filling the greenhouse. Harley came again, cock throbbing inside Ivy, but Ivy kept moving through it, clenching around her, drawing out every pulse until Harley was shaking.

Still, Ivy didn’t stop.

She dismounted only to turn around, pressing her back to Harley’s chest. Vines adjusted, spreading Harley wider, lifting her legs. Ivy reached back, guiding Harley’s cock back inside her from behind. This angle let Ivy control everything—how deep, how fast. She braced her hands on Harley’s thighs and fucked herself on Harley’s cock with abandon.

Harley’s third orgasm hit like lightning, drawn out by the relentless vine inside her and the tight heat of Ivy’s pussy. Tears pricked her eyes from the intensity, pleasure so sharp it felt like she was coming apart.

Ivy came with her this time, crying out beautifully, body shuddering, inner walls milking Harley dry. But even then, she kept rocking, slow and lazy now, drawing out the aftershocks.

“More,” Ivy whispered, voice husky with satisfaction and fresh hunger. She turned, kissing Harley softly, almost reverently. “You can give me more, can’t you, my love?”

Harley nodded weakly, voice hoarse. “Yeah… yeah. Anything for you.”

The plants shifted again, lowering Harley onto a bed of soft moss and thick, cushioning leaves. Vines still bound her wrists and ankles, keeping her spread and open. Ivy straddled her face first, letting Harley taste her—sweet and heady—while another set of tendrils worked Harley’s cock and ass. Ivy rode her tongue until she came again, thighs trembling around Harley’s head.

Then she slid down, sinking onto Harley’s cock once more. This time she took her time, slow rolls of her hips, hands planted on Harley’s chest. She leaned down to kiss her, sharing the taste of herself, whispering filthy praise between breaths.

“Look at you, so hard for me again. Even when you’re sobbing. Such a good girl.”

Harley lost count after the fourth orgasm. Time blurred into sensation: Ivy’s mouth, her hands, her pussy, the living vines that knew exactly how to press and stroke and fill. Every inch of Harley’s body was alight—cock aching and oversensitive, prostate throbbing under the constant attention, skin flushed and marked with Ivy’s kisses and the faint imprints of vines.

Ivy finally let herself go completely, riding Harley through both their climaxes, bodies slick with sweat and release. When she finally stilled, she collapsed onto Harley’s chest, vines loosening just enough to let Harley’s arms wrap around her.

Harley’s cock gave one last weak twitch inside her before softening. She was utterly spent, voice raw from moaning Ivy’s name like a prayer.

Ivy kissed her temple, fingers carding gently through blonde hair. “My beautiful Harley,” she murmured, voice soft now, almost loving. “All mine.”

Harley managed a weak, sated grin. “Yeah… all yours. Flowers can keep me anytime.”

The greenhouse settled into quiet, filled only with their slowing breaths and the gentle rustle of satisfied plants.

[oopsallcannibals]

how the hell are you writing fics so fast like omg i’m so impressed

Thanks.

I’ve been writing fics for years, so I’m pretty fast at it by now. I also don’t have much else going on during the day, which helps. A lot of the requests line up with stuff I already had drafted or half-written, so that makes it quicker too.

Glad you liked it.

[oopsallcannibals]

please do a cock drunk sophia wanting to get pregnant with gp reader 🙏🙏

Velvet Eclipse

Pairing: Sophia LaForteza x GP!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cock-drunk Sophia, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight size kink, consensual intense sex, fluff-tinged intimacy. 18+ only.

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.”

You gave her exactly what she wanted.

[oopsallcannibals]

can u do g!p daniela/ reader establishing a strictly “friends with benefits” relationship dynamic but they encounter each other in different situations with different people and gets jealous and it all ends up coming to an head

Tangled Edges

Pairing: G!P Daniela Avanzini x Female Reader (Reader-Insert)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), G!P dynamics, friends-with-benefits arrangement, heavy jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, slight choking, dirty talk, emotional tension, no happy-ever-after resolution (yet), angst-laced smut. Not beta-read. Purely fictional.

You met Daniela at a rooftop party in Milan that neither of you really wanted to be at. She was leaning against the railing in a black silk slip dress that caught the city lights like liquid obsidian, long dark hair loose, a cigarette burning between her fingers. You were there because your best friend dragged you out after a brutal week. The moment your eyes locked, something electric snapped into place—sharp, mutual, and dangerous.

No names at first. Just a slow smirk from her, the tilt of her head, and the way her gaze dragged down your body like she was already imagining peeling the dress off you. An hour later you were in the back of her town car, her mouth on your neck and her hand between your thighs, two fingers deep while the driver pretended not to notice.

That night set the tone.

“Strictly benefits,” she’d murmured against your collarbone afterward, voice husky, still catching her breath. Her cock had been buried inside you minutes earlier, thick and relentless, and you’d come so hard your ears rang. “No strings. No feelings. I like my life uncomplicated.”

You’d laughed, breathless, tracing a nail down her sweat-slicked stomach. “Same. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

And you meant it. At first.

The arrangement worked beautifully for three months.

Daniela would text you at odd hours—after photoshoots, after dinners with industry people, sometimes at 2 a.m. when she was still buzzing from whatever party she’d left early. You’d meet at her apartment with the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, or your smaller place when she wanted something less polished. She never stayed the night. You never asked her to.

The sex was… devastating.

She fucked like she photographed—intense, focused, every angle calculated for maximum effect. Her cock was perfect, thick enough to stretch you open in that aching, delicious way, long enough to hit spots that made your vision blur. She loved watching your face when she sank into you, loved the way your pussy clenched around her, loved pulling out just to watch her cum drip from your hole before pushing back in.

One night she had you bent over the kitchen island, dress rucked up around your waist, panties shoved to the side. The marble was cold against your breasts, nipples tight. Daniela’s hips snapped forward, driving her cock deep, one hand fisted in your hair.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” she growled, voice low and rough. “Look at you—such a pretty little slut for my cock.”

You moaned, pushing back to meet every thrust, the wet slap of skin echoing. She reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, relentless, until you shattered around her with a broken cry. She followed seconds later, burying herself to the hilt and filling you with hot pulses of cum, hips stuttering.

After, she cleaned you up with surprising gentleness, fingers soft between your legs, then kissed your forehead and left.

No strings.

The first crack appeared at a gallery opening.

You were there with Luca—tall, charming, a photographer you’d met through work. Nothing serious, just drinks and easy conversation. He made you laugh. His hand brushed your lower back as you looked at a sculpture.

You felt her before you saw her.

Daniela stood across the room in a tailored black suit, unbuttoned just enough to show the delicate gold chain resting against her sternum. Her eyes were locked on you, dark and unreadable. Luca said something; you didn’t hear it. All you could focus on was the way Daniela’s jaw tightened when his hand lingered.

Later, in the hallway leading to the restrooms, she cornered you.

Her body pressed you against the wall, one thigh sliding between yours. “Having fun?” she asked, voice velvet over steel.

“It’s just drinks, Daniela.”

Her hand slipped under your dress, fingers finding you already wet. “Does he know how wet you get for me?” She pushed two fingers inside without warning. You gasped, gripping her shoulders. “Does he know how you sound when you come on my cock?”

She fingered you right there, fast and possessive, thumb on your clit until you came hard, biting her shoulder to stay quiet. She pulled her fingers out, sucked them clean while staring into your eyes, then walked away like nothing happened.

You went home alone that night, thighs still trembling.

Jealousy worked both ways.

Two weeks later you saw her at a club with a model—blonde, legs for days, laughing too close to Daniela’s mouth. Daniela’s hand was on the girl’s waist, thumb stroking the exposed skin above her skirt. Something ugly twisted in your chest.

You left with someone else that night. A bartender with kind eyes and strong hands. He was good—attentive, eager—but it wasn’t the same. His touch didn’t burn. He didn’t know exactly how to angle his hips to make you see stars. When he came, you faked it for the first time in months.

Daniela texted you the next morning.

Daniela: My place. Tonight. 9.

You went.

She didn’t even let you get past the door.

The second you stepped inside, she had you pinned against it, mouth crashing into yours. Hungry. Angry. Her hands shoved your coat off, then your top. She dropped to her knees, yanked your jeans down, and buried her face between your legs like a woman starved.

“Fuck—Daniela—” Your head thunked back against the wood.

She ate you out like she was punishing you—tongue fucking into you, then sucking hard on your clit, two fingers curling against your g-spot. You came once, shaking, but she didn’t stop. She added a third finger, stretching you, then stood up, spun you around, and bent you over the back of her couch.

Her cock nudged your entrance, hot and leaking.

“You let him fuck you?” she hissed, voice dark. One hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. She pushed in slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every thick ridge. “Did he fill this pussy like I do?”

You moaned, pushing back, desperate. “No—God, no—”

“Good.” She slammed the rest of the way in.

The pace was brutal. Deep, punishing thrusts that made your toes curl. The sound of her hips slapping against your ass mixed with your broken whimpers. She reached around to rub your clit again, pinching, stroking, owning you.

“Mine,” she growled against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. “This cunt is mine.”

You came so hard you nearly blacked out, pussy spasming around her cock. Daniela followed with a guttural groan, flooding you with cum, hips grinding deep like she wanted it to stay there forever.

She pulled out slowly, watching her spend leak down your thighs. Then she carried you to the shower, washed you gently, and fucked you again against the tiles—slower this time, almost tender, forehead pressed to yours as she rocked into you.

Still no strings. But the threads were tightening.

The breaking point came at a mutual friend’s birthday party in a sprawling villa outside the city.

You arrived separately. You brought a date—Marco, a writer, charming and safe. Daniela showed up with the same blonde from the club. The sight of them together, Daniela’s arm slung casually around the girl’s shoulders, made something snap inside you.

You spent the night avoiding her. Laughing too loud at Marco’s jokes. Letting him kiss your cheek. Feeling her stare burn holes through your skin.

Around midnight you slipped out to the garden for air. The night was warm, cicadas humming. You leaned against a stone wall, trying to steady your breathing.

She found you.

“Having a good time?” Her voice was low, dangerous.

You turned. She looked devastating in a half-unbuttoned white shirt, sleeves rolled up, tattoos stark against her skin. The outline of her cock was visible through her trousers—already half-hard.

“Better than watching you play house with that model,” you shot back before you could stop yourself.

Daniela’s eyes flashed. She closed the distance in two strides, crowding you against the wall. “Jealous, baby?”

“Fuck you.”

She laughed, dark and low. “That’s the plan.”

Her mouth claimed yours in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongue, no gentleness. She shoved her thigh between your legs, grinding up against your core. You were soaked already, aching.

“Tell me you didn’t let him touch you,” she demanded between kisses.

“I didn’t.”

“Liar.” She bit your lip. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

Her hand slid under your dress, fingers pushing your panties aside and sinking into your dripping heat. Three fingers this time, stretching you open. You moaned into her mouth.

“Daniela—someone could see—”

“I don’t care.” She pumped her fingers harder, curling them perfectly. “Let them watch how well you fall apart for me.”

You came on her fingers with a choked cry, knees buckling. She held you up, kissing you through it.

Then she dragged you deeper into the garden, behind a cluster of tall hedges. She spun you around, bent you over a marble bench, and yanked your dress up. The cool night air hit your bare ass.

She freed her cock—thick, veined, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. She rubbed it against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Beg.”

“Please, Daniela. Fuck me. I need you inside me.”

She thrust in with one brutal stroke, bottoming out. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming and perfect. She set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, balls slapping against your clit with every thrust.

“So fucking tight,” she groaned. “Even after all this time, this pussy still grips me like it was made for my cock.”

One hand fisted in your hair, the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. She fucked you like she was trying to ruin you for anyone else—deep, relentless strokes that hit that spot inside you over and over.

You came again, vision whiting out, pussy pulsing around her. She didn’t slow down.

“Say it,” she growled. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You—fuck—only you.”

She pulled out suddenly, spun you around, and lifted you onto the bench. Your legs wrapped around her waist as she sank back inside you. Face to face now, her eyes wild and dark.

She fucked you like that—deep, grinding rolls of her hips, watching every expression on your face. Her thumb found your clit again.

“Come on my cock again. Let me feel it.”

You shattered a third time, nails digging into her shoulders, moaning her name like a prayer. Daniela followed with a broken groan, burying herself deep and pumping you full of cum, hips jerking as she rode it out.

For a long moment, you stayed like that—connected, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.

Then reality crept back in.

She pulled out slowly, cum dripping down your thighs. She helped you fix your dress with surprisingly steady hands, then stepped back.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, voice raw.

Daniela’s jaw clenched. “Why not?”

“Because it stopped being just benefits months ago.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid. The party noise filtered faintly through the hedges—laughter, music, life moving on.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking almost vulnerable for the first time.

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” she admitted quietly.

You stepped closer, cupping her face. “Then figure it out. Or let me go.”

Her eyes searched yours. For a second you thought she might kiss you again—soft this time. Instead she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then walked away.

You stayed in the garden a long time, thighs sticky with her cum, heart aching in a way that had nothing to do with the arrangement you’d both agreed to.

No strings.

But the knots had already formed—tight, complicated, and impossible to ignore.

[oopsallcannibals]

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.