May I request G!P reader x Daniela where Daniela cheats on her bf with reader and one night her bf calls her during sex and she lets him hear it
Static and Surrender
Pairing: G!P Reader x Daniela Avanzini
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cheating/adultery, voyeuristic cuckolding (consensual on Daniela’s part), rough sex, strong language, emotional intensity. 18+ only.
The city hummed beneath the penthouse windows like a distant, indifferent witness. Rain streaked the glass in silver threads, catching the low amber light of the single lamp you’d left on. Daniela’s heels clicked once against the marble before she kicked them off, the sound swallowed by the thick rug. She didn’t speak. She rarely needed to when she came to you like this—hair slightly damp from the taxi, black dress clinging to the curves she knew you’d ruin.
You leaned against the kitchen island, whiskey glass in hand, watching her. Not predatory. Just certain. That was the difference between you and the boy waiting at home for her. You didn’t chase. You didn’t beg. You simply existed in the space she kept returning to, and that was enough to make her wet before she even touched you.
“Rough day?” you asked, voice low, steady.
She exhaled a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “He wants to talk about our future again. Ring shopping. Timelines.” Her fingers found the zipper at her side and dragged it down slowly, the fabric peeling away like she was shedding a second skin. “I told him I needed air.”
You set the glass down. “And you came here.”
“I always come here.”
The dress pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it in nothing but lace panties the color of midnight and a bra that barely contained her. Her body was a study in contradictions—soft where it invited touch, toned where it promised strength. You’d mapped every inch of it over the last four months. Knew exactly how her breath hitched when you bit the inside of her thigh. How her back arched when you filled her just right.
You crossed the room without hurry. When you reached her, you didn’t kiss her immediately. You slid your fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so you could look at her face. Her pupils were already blown wide.
“He think you’re at the gym?” you murmured.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” you said. “But I like knowing how badly you’re lying to him tonight.”
Her lips parted. You kissed her then—deep, unhurried, the kind of kiss that said you had all the time in the world because she was already yours in every way that counted. Daniela melted into it, hands fisting your shirt, pulling you closer. She tasted like the red wine she’d had at dinner with him and the mint she’d chewed in the elevator on the way up. You backed her toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss until the backs of her knees hit the mattress.
She sat, looking up at you with that half-lidded expression that always made your cock twitch against the confines of your jeans. You were already hard. Had been since the moment she texted On my way. You pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the lean muscle you kept sharp for moments exactly like this. Daniela’s gaze dropped to the bulge straining the denim. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“Take them off,” she whispered.
You did, slowly. When your cock sprang free—thick, heavy, flushed at the tip—she let out a small, involuntary sound. Not the exaggerated porn moan so many women performed. Just raw need. You were bigger than him. You both knew it. She’d told you once, drunk on whiskey and guilt and lust, that she couldn’t stop thinking about how full you made her feel.
You stroked yourself once, watching her watch you. “On your back. Legs open.”
She obeyed, peeling the panties down and tossing them aside. Her pussy was already glistening. You climbed over her, settling between her thighs but not entering her yet. Instead you dragged the head of your cock through her folds, coating yourself in her slick, teasing her clit until her hips jerked.
“Fuck, please,” she breathed.
You pushed in—slow at first, letting her feel every inch. Her walls clenched around you like velvet heat, fluttering as she adjusted to your girth. Daniela’s head fell back, a low moan tearing from her throat. You bottomed out and held still, savoring the way she pulsed around you.
“Look at me,” you said.
Her eyes met yours, dark and glassy. You started to move—deep, measured thrusts that dragged against that spot inside her that made her toes curl. The wet sounds of your bodies filled the room, obscene and perfect. Rain lashed the windows harder. You fucked her like you had something to prove, but the truth was simpler: you just wanted her to feel ruined for anyone else.
Her nails raked down your back. You caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand while the other gripped her hip, angling her so you could go deeper. The shift made her cry out—sharp, genuine.
“Right there—God, yes—”
You leaned down, mouth at her ear. “Tell me how much better this feels than him.”
She hesitated half a second—some last scrap of loyalty flickering—then broke. “So much better. Fuck, you’re so deep. He never… he never gets there like you do.”
You rewarded her with a harder thrust. Her legs wrapped around your waist, heels digging into your lower back. Sweat slicked your skin where you pressed together. You could feel her getting close already, the way her cunt fluttered and tightened.
Then her phone rang.
It vibrated on the nightstand, screen lighting up with his name. Marco. The sound cut through the rhythm of skin on skin like a cold blade. Daniela’s eyes flew open. For a moment you both stilled, your cock buried to the hilt inside her.
You didn’t pull out. You simply looked at her, eyebrow raised in quiet challenge.
Her breathing was ragged. The phone kept ringing.
“Answer it,” you said.
Her lips parted in surprise, but something darker, hungrier, flashed across her face. She reached for the phone with a trembling hand. You started moving again—slow, shallow rolls of your hips that kept her right on the edge without letting her tip over.
She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hey, baby.”
Her voice was impressively steady at first. You dragged your cock out almost completely, then slid back in with deliberate force. Daniela’s free hand flew to your shoulder, nails biting in.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m at the gym still,” she said. A little breathier now. “Just finishing up a circuit.”
You ground your hips in a slow circle, pressing against her clit. Her eyes rolled back. She bit her lip hard enough to leave marks.
Marco’s voice was a faint tinny murmur on the other end. You couldn’t make out the words, but you didn’t need to. You knew the tone—affectionate, oblivious.
Daniela’s thighs started to shake. You picked up the pace, fucking her harder, the wet slap of your bodies louder now. She tried to muffle her moan against her shoulder, but it slipped out anyway.
“What? No, I’m… the music’s loud in here,” she lied, voice cracking on the last word as you hit that perfect angle again. “Fuck— I mean, yeah, I’ll be home soon.”
You leaned down and sucked a nipple into your mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. Her pussy clenched violently around you. She was so close it was almost painful to watch.
Marco said something else. Daniela’s eyes locked on yours, desperate and wild.
“Yeah, I love you too,” she managed, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as you slammed into her, deep and relentless. The phone slipped slightly in her grip. You could hear Marco’s confused “Dani?” before she pressed it closer again.
You reached between you and rubbed tight circles over her clit. That was it. Daniela came with a strangled cry she couldn’t hold back, her whole body seizing around your cock. Her walls milked you in powerful spasms, slick gushing around your length. She tried to keep the phone steady but failed; you heard the faint, bewildered “What the hell was that?” from the other end.
You didn’t stop. You fucked her through it, chasing your own release now, hips snapping forward with purpose. Daniela’s head thrashed against the pillow, tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. She kept the phone there—let him hear every gasp, every wet thrust, every broken whimper.
You came hard, burying yourself to the hilt and flooding her with thick ropes of cum. The groan you let out was low, masculine, unmistakable. Daniela’s second orgasm crashed over her right after, triggered by the feel of you pulsing inside her. She sobbed your name—quiet, but not quiet enough.
The line went dead.
For a long moment the only sounds were your mingled breathing and the rain. You stayed inside her, softening slowly, your bodies locked together. Daniela dropped the phone onto the bed like it burned her. Her chest heaved.
You brushed damp hair from her forehead, surprisingly gentle. “You okay?”
She laughed—a wrecked, disbelieving sound. “I think I just… he heard everything.”
“Yeah.” You kissed the corner of her mouth. “And you came harder than you ever have with him.”
She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Instead she pulled you down into a messy kiss, legs still wrapped around you. Your cum was already leaking out around your cock, messy and claiming. She shivered at the feeling.
Later—after you’d cleaned her up and poured her a glass of water—she curled against your chest, tracing idle patterns on your skin.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” she whispered.
You ran your fingers through her hair. “Probably. But you’ll go home tomorrow and act like nothing happened. Until the next time you need this.”
She was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”
You tilted her chin up so she met your eyes. “Then don’t. But when you’re ready to stop lying to him… you know where I am.”
Daniela kissed you again, slower this time. The rain kept falling, washing the city clean outside while inside, the two of you tangled in the wreckage you’d made.
The affair had started innocently enough, if anything involving Daniela Avanzini could ever be called innocent.
You’d met her at a private event—some tech launch party where the drinks were overpriced and the conversations shallow. She was there with Marco, smiling the polished smile of someone who knew exactly how good she looked in the navy dress that hugged her ass. You were there because your company had done the backend work for the app being launched. When Marco stepped away to network, Daniela had drifted toward you at the bar.
“You look like you’re calculating exit strategies,” she’d said, lips curved in amusement.
You’d shrugged. “Just observing. You look like you’re performing.”
Her eyebrow had arched. That was the first real spark—mutual recognition of the masks people wore. Two hours later she was in the back of your car, dress rucked up around her waist, your fingers buried inside her while she bit your shoulder to stay quiet. Marco had texted her twice during the ride. She’d answered with one hand, the other stroking your cock through your pants.
It escalated from there. Hotel rooms. Your penthouse. Once, daringly, the guest bathroom at a dinner party he’d hosted. Each time she left you, she carried the scent of sex and your cologne home with her. Each time she came back hungrier.
You weren’t in love. Love was for people who had the luxury of honesty. This was something sharper—addiction, chemistry, the thrill of taking what wasn’t yours. But there was respect in it too. You never pushed her to leave him. You simply offered her a space where she didn’t have to pretend.
The night of the phone call wasn’t planned. Not exactly. But when it rang, the opportunity had felt inevitable.
Two weeks later she showed up again, eyes shadowed.
“He won’t stop asking about that night,” she said, shrugging out of her coat. “Keeps replaying the call. Says it sounded like I was… with someone.”
You poured her a drink. “And what did you tell him?”
“That the gym had some weird audio system. That I was in pain from a tough set.” She took the glass, downed half of it. “He wants to believe me. But I think part of him knows.”
You stepped behind her, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. Your cock was already stirring. “And how does that make you feel?”
She shivered as your lips found the side of her neck. “Terrified. And so fucking wet I could barely drive here.”
You turned her around and lifted her onto the counter. This time you didn’t bother with slow. You shoved her skirt up, ripped the panties aside, and sank into her in one smooth thrust. Daniela cried out, head falling back against the cabinet.
You fucked her right there in the kitchen—hard, possessive strokes that made the glasses rattle. Her legs locked around you, heels digging into your ass. Every thrust drove the memory of Marco’s confused voice deeper into both of you.
“Say it,” you growled against her ear. “Tell me what you let him hear.”
“I let him hear me coming on your cock,” she gasped. “Let him hear how much I needed you to fill me up.”
You rewarded her with a brutal angle that made her see stars. She came first, clenching so hard you followed right after, pumping her full again. When you pulled out, your cum dripped down her thighs onto the marble. She looked down at it, breathing hard, and smiled—a small, dangerous thing.
“I think I want him to hear it again,” she whispered.
The next time Marco called, you had her bent over the couch, dress shoved up around her waist, your cock buried deep. You’d been edging her for nearly an hour—bringing her to the brink and backing off until she was shaking and begging.
When the phone rang, you didn’t even slow down. You simply handed it to her.
“Answer.”
She did, voice wrecked. “Hey.”
This time Marco’s voice was sharper. Suspicious. “Where are you? You sound… off.”
You reached around and rubbed her clit while continuing those devastating thrusts. Daniela’s moan slipped out before she could stop it.
“Fuck— I’m at… the studio. Late session.”
You leaned over her back, biting her shoulder. “Louder,” you whispered.
She obeyed. Her next moan was clearer, shameless. Marco’s questions turned frantic. “Dani? What the hell is going on?”
You fucked her harder, the slap of skin loud enough to carry through the speaker. Daniela’s hand gripped the couch cushion, knuckles white. “I’m sorry— I can’t— oh God—”
She came violently, crying out your name this time. Not his. Yours. The phone clattered to the floor. Marco’s voice kept coming from it, distant and devastated, until she hung up with a trembling hand.
You pulled out, turned her around, and dropped to your knees. Your mouth found her oversensitive pussy, licking up the mess you’d made while she sobbed through aftershocks. When you finally stood and slid back inside her, she clung to you like you were the only solid thing left in her world.
Months blurred. The lies grew thinner. Marco grew more desperate. Daniela grew bolder.
One night she arrived with his ring still on her finger. You fucked her against the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights glittering below like scattered diamonds. She pressed her tits against the cold glass while you took her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other between her legs.
When he called, she answered on speaker.
This time she didn’t even try to lie.
The sounds she made were obscene—wet, rhythmic, punctuated by your low grunts and the slap of your hips. Marco’s voice cracked on the other end, pleading, cursing, breaking. Daniela came with a scream that echoed off the glass. You followed, flooding her again, marking her inside and out.
Afterward she cried quietly in your arms. Not from guilt exactly, but from the weight of everything she’d destroyed and everything she’d finally admitted she wanted.
You held her through it.
“I’m done pretending,” she whispered against your chest.
You kissed the top of her head. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you anymore.”
The story didn’t end neatly. These things rarely did. Marco moved out. Friends picked sides. Social media whispered. But in the quiet of your penthouse, Daniela slept better than she had in years, your arm draped over her waist, your cum still drying on her thighs.
She was yours now—not just in the stolen hours, but completely. And every time she looked at you, there was no performance. Just raw, honest hunger.
The rain had stopped. The city kept moving below, indifferent as ever. Inside, the two of you built something new from the ruins—messy, real, and undeniably alive.
The city lights bled gold and violet through the tall windows of Lara’s apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You stood just inside the doorway, jacket still half-on, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. This was a mistake. You’d known it the second Lara had looked at you across the table at dinner—those dark, knowing eyes, the slow curve of her smile that promised things you’d tried to forget.
“You’ve been avoiding me for months,” she’d said over dessert, voice low enough that only you could hear. “But tonight you said yes.”
You had. Because Lara Raj was impossible to say no to when she turned the full force of her attention on you.
Now she was closing the door behind you with a soft click, the sound final. She wore a silk slip dress the color of midnight, thin straps sliding off one shoulder as she moved. Her hair fell in loose waves, and she smelled like vanilla and something warmer, something that made your body react before your mind could catch up.
“Lara…” Your voice came out rough. “We shouldn’t. Manon—”
“Is not here,” she finished, stepping close enough that her breasts brushed your chest. “She hasn’t been yours for a long time. And she’s not the one I want.”
Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face down to hers. She was shorter than you, but the way she looked up through her lashes made you feel pinned in place.
“I’ve wanted you since before you even looked at her,” Lara whispered. “I waited. I was good. But I’m done waiting.”
Your hands flexed at your sides. The memory of Manon’s laugh, her touch, the easy comfort you’d once shared—it all warred with the heat pooling low in your belly. Lara’s thigh pressed lightly between yours, right against the growing bulge in your pants, and you hissed.
“Fuck… Lara, I don’t want to come between you two.”
“You’re not coming between us.” Her lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing. “You’re finally coming to me.”
She kissed you then—slow at first, savoring, like she’d been dreaming of your mouth for years. Her tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for her, and the taste of her exploded across your senses: sweet wine and something uniquely Lara. Your resolve cracked. Your hands found her waist, pulling her flush against you, and she moaned softly into your mouth when she felt you, hard and insistent.
“That’s it,” she breathed, nipping your bottom lip. “Feel how much I want you?”
She took your hand and guided it under the hem of her dress. No panties. Just slick, molten heat against your fingers. You groaned, forehead dropping to hers as you stroked through her folds, circling her clit with a reverence that made her hips jerk.
“Lara… you’re soaked.”
“For you.” She rocked against your hand. “Only ever like this for you.”
The couch was closest. You didn’t make it to the bedroom. She pushed you down first, climbing into your lap, dress riding up around her thighs. Her hands worked your belt open with practiced ease, freeing your cock. It sprang up thick and heavy between you, the head already glistening. Lara’s eyes darkened with hunger.
“God, look at you,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the base. Her hand barely fit. “So big. So fucking perfect.”
She stroked you slowly, twisting at the head on every upstroke, thumb spreading the bead of precum. Your hips bucked involuntarily. You tried one last time.
“We can stop. This doesn’t have to—”
“I want it to.” She sank to her knees between your spread thighs, silk pooling around her like dark water. “I need to taste you. Need to show you how much better I am.”
Her tongue flicked out, tracing the thick vein along the underside before swirling around the head. The wet heat of her mouth made your head fall back against the couch with a guttural sound. She took you deeper, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on yours the entire time. The sight of Lara Raj—elegant, untouchable Lara—on her knees with her lips stretched around your cock was almost too much.
“Fuck, baby…” Your hand threaded through her hair, not pushing, just holding.
She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight to your balls. She bobbed her head, taking more with each pass until the head nudged the back of her throat. She swallowed, and you saw stars. Saliva dripped down your shaft, over her fingers where they pumped what she couldn’t fit. The sounds were obscene—wet, filthy, perfect.
She pulled off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to your cock. “Tell me,” she demanded, voice husky. “Tell me I taste better than her.”
You hesitated, chest heaving. Her tongue licked a long stripe from base to tip, then she sucked just the head again, tongue flicking the sensitive underside.
“Lara—”
“Say it.” She deepthroated you again, holding there until her eyes watered, then pulled back. “I want to hear it while I’m sucking your cock.”
You broke. “You taste better. Fuck— so much better. Sweeter. Hotter. God, Lara, your mouth—”
She rewarded you with a moan that vibrated through your entire length. Her free hand cupped your balls, massaging gently as she worshipped you with lips, tongue, and throat. The pressure built fast and brutal. You tried to warn her, but she only sucked harder, eyes blazing with triumph.
You came with a broken groan, hips stuttering as you spilled down her throat. She swallowed every drop, milking you through it until you were trembling and oversensitive.
When she finally pulled off, her lips were shiny, chin messy. She looked devastatingly beautiful.
She climbed back into your lap, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on her tongue. Your cock, still hard—because she did that to you—nudged against her dripping pussy. She rocked against it, coating you in her arousal.
“Bedroom,” she whispered. “I want all of you tonight.”
You carried her there, her legs wrapped around your waist, mouth never leaving yours. The sheets were cool against her heated skin as you laid her down. You stripped the slip dress off her slowly, revealing every inch of smooth, golden skin. Her breasts were perfect, nipples tight and begging. You sucked one into your mouth while your fingers plunged into her pussy—two, then three, curling against that spot that made her cry out.
“Lara… you’re so tight.”
“Been waiting for you,” she gasped, riding your hand. “Need your cock. Please.”
You couldn’t deny her. Not anymore.
You lined up and pushed in slowly, savoring the way her walls fluttered and stretched around your girth. Inch by inch until you were buried to the hilt, balls pressed against her ass. She was impossibly hot and wet, gripping you like velvet vice.
“Move,” she begged, nails digging into your shoulders.
You did. Long, deep strokes that had the headboard knocking against the wall. Her legs locked around your hips, heels digging into your back as you fucked her harder. Skin slapped against skin. Her moans grew louder, breathier, turning into whimpers of your name.
You flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so you could take her from behind. The angle let you hit deeper, grinding against her g-spot with every thrust. One hand reached around to rub her clit in tight circles.
“Say it again,” you growled, lips against her ear.
“You taste better— fuck, Lara, your pussy feels better than anything. So good, baby. So fucking good.”
She shattered with a scream, clenching around you rhythmically as her orgasm crashed through her. The sight and feel of her coming pushed you over the edge again. You buried yourself deep and filled her, pulse after pulse of thick cum until it leaked out around your cock.
You collapsed together, tangled and sweaty. Lara turned in your arms, pressing soft kisses to your chest, your throat, your jaw.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered. “No more running. You’re mine now.”
You stroked her hair, the last of your resistance gone. “Yeah… I’m yours.”
The night stretched on. She rode you slow and sensual under the moonlight, hands braced on your chest as she rolled her hips in devastating circles. You ate her out until she sobbed with overstimulation, tongue fucking into her while your thumb pressed against her clit. She came on your face twice, thighs shaking around your head, chanting your name like a prayer.
You took her against the window, city lights glittering below as you pounded into her from behind, one hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. She sucked you off in the shower, water cascading over both of you while she looked up at you with worship in her eyes.
By the time dawn crept in, the sheets were ruined and your bodies were marked with love bites and fingerprints. Lara curled into your side, sated and glowing.
“You taste better,” you murmured against her hair, echoing her earlier demand. “Everything about you is better.”
She smiled, soft and victorious, and kissed you like she’d never let you go.
May I request nerdy g!p reader x mean Daniela where Daniela sucks you off anywhere especially in school and makes reader fuck her anywhere and doesn’t care about getting caught
Risk and Ruin
Pairing: Nerdy g!p Reader x Mean Daniela Avanzini
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), g!p reader, semi-public sex, risk of exposure/exhibitionism, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, dirty talk, power imbalance, mean/bratty dom Daniela, possessive behavior, strong language,
The library at the back of the elite private academy smelled like old paper and polished oak. Sunlight slanted through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. You were tucked into the farthest corner, headphones on, glasses slipping down your nose as you annotated a dense physics text. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, pencil tapping rhythmically—classic nerd camouflage. Safe. Invisible.
Until Daniela Avanzini decided you weren’t.
She appeared like a storm in designer skirts: long dark hair cascading over one shoulder, uniform blouse unbuttoned one too many times, lips painted that signature blood-red. The mean girl. The one who ruled hallways with a smirk and a cutting tongue. Everyone knew better than to cross her. Everyone except you, apparently, because she’d caught you staring once—two weeks ago in the courtyard—and decided you belonged to her now.
You felt her before you saw her. The shift in the air. The way conversations outside the stacks quieted. Then her scent—expensive vanilla and something sharper—wrapped around you as she slid into the seat across from yours.
“Eyes up, four-eyes,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough.
You looked. Big mistake. Her eyes were dark fire, lashes heavy. She propped her chin on her hand, studying you like you were a puzzle she’d already solved.
“I’m busy,” you muttered, trying to sound firm. Your voice cracked anyway.
Daniela’s smile was slow, cruelly sweet. “You’re always busy. Buried in books while your cock’s probably aching under that ugly hoodie. Poor little nerd.” She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that went straight to your groin. “Bet it’s hard right now just from me sitting here.”
Heat flooded your face. You were hard. Painfully so. The thick length of your cock strained against your uniform slacks, trapped and throbbing at the mere sound of her voice. She always did this—knew exactly how to unravel you.
“Daniela, we’re in the library—”
“Shut up.” She stood gracefully, rounded the table, and dropped to her knees between your legs before you could protest. The heavy wooden table hid her completely from anyone glancing down the aisle. Heart hammering, you glanced around. A few students milled about three rows away. Someone coughed. Pages turned.
Her fingers made quick work of your zipper. “Look at me.”
You did. Her eyes locked on yours as she freed your cock—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. The cool library air hit sensitive skin and you bit your lip hard.
“Fuck, it’s so pretty when it’s this needy,” she purred. No hesitation. She leaned in and took you into her hot, wet mouth in one smooth glide.
A strangled sound escaped your throat. You gripped the edge of the table as her tongue swirled around the head, sucking greedily. Daniela didn’t tease today; she devoured. Hollowed cheeks, obscene slurping sounds barely muffled by the table. She bobbed deep, throat relaxing to take half your length, then more, until her nose brushed your pelvis.
“Shit—Daniela,” you hissed, one hand fisting in her hair before you could stop yourself.
She hummed around you, the vibration shooting pleasure up your spine. Her free hand pumped the base she couldn’t swallow, slick with spit. Every pass of her lips was filthy, perfect pressure, her mean little tongue pressing against the underside just how you liked. You could hear footsteps nearby. A chair scraping. The danger made everything sharper.
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to your glistening cock. “Don’t you dare come yet,” she warned, voice husky. “You’re going to fuck me right here.”
Your brain short-circuited. “What? No, someone will—”
She stood, turned, and hiked her skirt up in one motion. No panties. Of course. Her bare ass and slick pussy were right there, glistening. She braced her hands on the table and looked back over her shoulder, eyes blazing with challenge.
“Fuck me, nerd. Or I’ll scream your name and let everyone see what a desperate slut you are for me.”
You were standing before your mind caught up. Hands on her hips, you lined up the fat head of your cock with her dripping entrance and pushed in. One long, relentless thrust. She was tight, scorching hot, already clenching around you like she wanted to milk you dry.
Daniela moaned low, head falling forward. “That’s it. All the way. Fill me up.”
You bottomed out, balls pressed against her, and started moving. Hard, deep strokes that made the table creak softly. Her pussy fluttered around every inch, greedy and wet. The sound of skin meeting skin was quiet but unmistakable if anyone came closer. You reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles while you fucked her.
“Yes—fuck, right there,” she gasped, pushing back to meet every thrust. Her walls squeezed you rhythmically, drawing you deeper. “Harder. I want to feel you for days.”
You gave it to her. Snapping your hips, pounding into her slick heat while trying desperately not to groan too loud. Her juices ran down your shaft, coating your balls. The risk was intoxicating—anyone could walk around the corner and see the queen of the school bent over getting railed by the quiet nerd.
Daniela came first, sudden and violent. Her pussy clamped down, pulsing, a gush of wetness flooding around your cock as she bit her own arm to stay quiet. The sight and sensation broke you. You buried yourself deep and came hard, thick ropes of cum painting her insides, spilling out around your shaft as you kept shallowly thrusting through it.
She straightened after a moment, turned, and kissed you filthy—tongue and teeth and possession. Then she tucked your spent cock back into your pants with surprising gentleness, patted your cheek, and whispered, “Good girl. My turn to pick the next spot.”
It became a pattern. A dangerous, addictive game.
The next day it was the girls’ bathroom during lunch. Daniela dragged you into the largest stall, locked the door, and shoved you against the wall. “On your knees.”
You dropped. She lifted one leg over your shoulder, skirt around her waist, and rode your face until she was shaking, smearing her slick all over your mouth and glasses. When she came, she ground down hard, whispering the filthiest praise: “Such a good fucking tongue. My perfect nerd. Lick it all up.”
Then she bent over the sink, hands braced on the mirror, and made you fuck her from behind while she watched your reflection. “Look how desperate you are for my cunt. Pathetic. But it’s mine.” You filled her again, cum dripping down her thighs when she walked out like nothing happened, leaving you to clean up and hide the evidence.
After class, the empty stairwell. She rode you on the steps, skirt spread over your lap, grinding slow and deep while footsteps echoed somewhere above. Every time someone passed a floor up, she clenched around you and smirked at your panicked expression. “Don’t stop. I want your cum leaking out of me during practice.”
You gave it to her, groaning into her neck as you pumped her full again.
The tension built like a storm. Daniela grew bolder. Meaner in the sweetest way.
In the locker room after hours, she pushed you onto a bench and sank down onto your cock reverse cowgirl, facing the door. Anyone could walk in. She bounced on you with athletic grace, ass rippling, pussy swallowing every thick inch. “Imagine the look on their faces,” she panted, reaching back to spread herself wider. “Seeing the school’s bitch getting stuffed by your fat nerd dick.”
You gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her, the wet slap echoing. Her moans grew louder on purpose. You had to muffle her with your hand, which only made her ride you harder, pussy gushing.
When you came, she stayed seated, clenching to keep every drop inside. Then she turned, dropped to her knees, and cleaned you with her mouth—slow, worshipful licks mixed with that sharp, mean smile.
“You’re ruining me,” you whispered, voice wrecked.
“Good,” she said, kissing the tip of your cock. “I want you obsessed. I want you hard every time you see me.”
The peak came during a late-night study session in the science wing. The building was mostly empty. Daniela had you bent over a lab table, skirt flipped up, taking you from behind again. Deep, punishing strokes. Your glasses fogged. Her nails dug into your forearms where you braced yourself.
“Tell me you love it,” she demanded, voice breathy but commanding.
“I love it—fuck, I love your pussy, Daniela. Love how you use me.”
She laughed, low and pleased, then reached back to play with your balls, squeezing just right. “Come on, fill me again. Breed me right here where anyone could walk by and see what a whore I am for you.”
The words sent you over. You slammed deep and unloaded, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding her. She came with you, walls milking every drop, a broken moan escaping despite her efforts to stay quiet.
After, she turned in your arms and kissed you properly—slow, deep, almost tender beneath the meanness. Her fingers traced your jaw.
“You’re mine now,” she said softly. “Everywhere. Anytime. Don’t you dare hide that cock from me again.”
You nodded, dazed, cock twitching back to life already at the promise in her eyes.
The bell tower. The rooftop. The back of the auditorium during rehearsal. Every stolen moment was hotter than the last—her mouth on you in the parking lot at dusk, your cock buried in her throat while she looked up with tear-streaked mascara and wicked satisfaction. Fucking her against the vending machine in the deserted hallway, the mechanical hum covering the sounds of her begging for more.
Daniela never cared about getting caught. She thrived on it. And you—quiet, nerdy, hopelessly gone for her—gave her everything she demanded.
Can I request equally freaky and obsessed Megan x g!p reader who can't keep their hands off each other even in public spaces?
Of course no matter how much they lust off each other or after literally fucking like animals they'd always end it in a slow, romantic lovemaking that actually shows they love each other
Entwined in Shadows and Starlight
Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x g!p Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), g!p reader, obsessive possessiveness, semi-public and risky sexual acts, rough/passionate sex, primal elements, fingering, oral, penetrative sex, slight choking/breath play, cum play, multiple orgasms, aftercare, fluffy romantic lovemaking. Consensual but intensely lust-driven. No plot-heavy angst, pure indulgent romance between two adults deeply in love.
The city pulsed around you like a living heartbeat, neon lights bleeding into the humid night air as you and Megan slipped out of the back entrance of the venue. Her latest performance with KATSEYE still echoed in your veins—the way her body moved on stage, fluid and commanding, hips rolling with that effortless charisma that made thousands scream her name. But only you knew the version of her that unraveled completely under your touch.
Her hand was already in yours, fingers laced tight, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. Megan’s thumb traced circles on your wrist, a silent promise, as the crowd noise faded behind you. She glanced up, those dark eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper, hungrier.
“Baby,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough from singing. “I can’t wait anymore.”
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pulled her into the shadowed alcove between two buildings, the alley barely lit by a distant streetlamp. Her back hit the cool brick wall with a soft gasp that turned into a pleased hum as your mouth claimed hers. The kiss was immediate fire—teeth nipping, tongues sliding, her hands fisting in your shirt as if she could pull you inside her soul.
Megan Skiendiel was obsession incarnate, and you were her perfect mirror. From the moment you met, it had been like this: a gravitational pull that defied reason. Public spaces be damned. Your hands roamed greedily over her waist, slipping under the hem of her cropped top to feel the warm, smooth skin of her stomach. She arched into you, a soft whine escaping as your thigh pressed between hers.
“Fuck, I need you,” she breathed against your lips, grinding down shamelessly. Her fingers tugged at your belt, impatient. “Right here. Please.”
The risk made it sharper—the distant hum of traffic, the possibility of footsteps. You dropped to your knees on the gritty pavement, not caring about the dirt, and hiked up her skirt. Her panties were already soaked; you tore them aside and buried your face between her thighs. Megan’s head fell back against the wall with a choked moan, one hand tangling in your hair as your tongue delved deep, tasting her sweetness mixed with the faint salt of her sweat from the stage.
She was vocal, always—gasping your name like a prayer, hips rolling against your mouth in desperate circles. “Yes—right there, don’t stop—oh god, you’re so good to me.” Her thighs trembled around your ears as you sucked her clit, two fingers curling inside her heat. She came hard and fast, biting her lip to muffle the cry, body shuddering as waves crashed through her.
You stood, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and she pulled you into another devouring kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. Your cock strained painfully against your pants; she palmed it eagerly, squeezing with just the right pressure.
“Your turn,” she whispered, eyes dark with lust. But before you could protest, she was sinking down, elegant even on her knees in an alley, freeing you with practiced hands. The sight of Megan Skiendiel—idol, star, your everything—looking up at you with those plush lips wrapped around your length was almost too much. She took you deep, throat relaxing, eyes watering but never breaking contact. Her tongue swirled, hollowed cheeks sucking with obscene devotion.
You groaned, hips bucking, hand gentle in her hair despite the primal urge to fuck her face raw. She hummed around you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. It didn’t take long; you spilled down her throat with a guttural sound, and she swallowed every drop, licking you clean with a satisfied little smile.
But this was only the beginning. The night was young, and your hunger for each other was endless.
Back at the hotel, the door barely clicked shut before clothes were shed in a frantic trail across the floor. Megan pushed you onto the bed, straddling your hips, her bare skin glowing under the low lamp light. She was beautiful—lithe dancer’s body, curves that fit perfectly against you, long hair cascading like ink over her shoulders.
You flipped her beneath you, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. “Mine,” you growled, nipping at her collarbone, leaving marks that would need careful covering tomorrow. She laughed breathlessly, wrapping her legs around your waist, urging you closer.
“Yours. Always.”
You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, welcoming heat. Megan cried out, nails raking down your back as you set a punishing rhythm—deep, hard strokes that had the headboard slamming against the wall. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mingled with her moans and your grunts. She clenched around you, soaking your cock, begging for more.
“Harder—fuck me like you mean it,” she demanded, and you obliged, pounding into her with animalistic need. You lifted her legs over your shoulders, folding her nearly in half, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Another orgasm ripped through her, walls fluttering wildly, pulling you deeper.
You didn’t stop. Flipping her onto all fours, you re-entered her from behind, one hand fisting her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She pushed back against you, meeting every thrust, lost in the frenzy. Sweat slicked your bodies; the air grew thick with the scent of sex. You reached around to rub her clit, and she shattered again, sobbing your name.
Only when exhaustion began to creep in did the pace shift.
You slowed, pulling out gently despite her whimper of protest. Turning her onto her back, you settled between her thighs once more, this time sliding in with aching tenderness. Megan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. The raw lust softened into something profound—love so vast it bordered on worship.
Your movements were languid now, deep rolls of your hips that let her feel every inch, every ridge. You kissed her slowly, pouring everything into it: the fear of losing her to the spotlight, the joy of her laughter in quiet mornings, the way she looked at you like you hung the moon. Her hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as if memorizing you.
“I love you,” she whispered against your mouth, voice breaking with emotion. “So much it hurts sometimes.”
You thrust deeper, grinding against her clit with every stroke. “I love you more. My beautiful girl. My everything.”
Tears pricked her eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming intimacy. You made love to her like time had stopped, savoring every sigh, every flutter of her walls. Her legs wrapped around you, heels digging into your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. Orgasms came again, but gentler this time—rolling waves that left you both trembling, connected soul to soul.
You came inside her with a quiet groan, filling her with warmth as she clenched around you, milking every drop. For long minutes afterward, you stayed buried deep, trading soft kisses and whispered endearments. You pulled out only to gather her in your arms, her head on your chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.
In the afterglow, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no stages, no fans, no cameras. Just Megan—your Megan—curled against you, breathing steady, heart beating in sync with yours.
“You know we’re going to get caught one day,” she murmured sleepily, a smile in her voice.
You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it. I’d fuck you on the Eiffel Tower if you asked.”
She laughed, the sound pure sunlight, and nuzzled closer. “Romantic.”
“Only for you.”
The night stretched on in quiet contentment, bodies entwined, love wrapping around you both like a promise. No matter how wild the hunger, it always circled back here—to this slow, sacred joining that reminded you why you were obsessed in the first place.
>> After your grandparents passed, your parents dumped their old, rotting manor on you with zero help. “You’re broke, so deal with it,” they said. Reluctantly, you move into the isolated, creepy estate alone, expecting dust, leaks, and maybe some rats.
pair ; zombie!megan skiendiel / g!p!reader
tags ; penetration. breast (nipple) sucking. aphrodisiac.
-> ‘MYLM’ masterlist.
—
Lara stood there for a second, staring at your unconscious body slumped against the wall. She poked your cheek again, then sighed.
“…I’m not doing all that,” she mumbled to herself. “I’m not carrying you all the way to the bed.”
She straightened up, brushed the dust off her black slip dress, and vanished in a shimmer of air.
A moment later she reappeared outside, in the overgrown backyard of the manor where the ground was soft and disturbed. There was an old, half-sunken grave-like patch under a dead tree — dirt mounded up like someone had clawed their way out more than once.
Lara floated over and casually kicked a small rock off the edge of the mound. It rolled down and thunked right onto the dirt.
A hand shot out of the earth a second later, swatting at the air.
“Hey!” came a muffled, irritated voice from below.
Megan slowly sat up, dirt and bits of leaves stuck in her messy dark hair. Her eyes were still half-closed, looking grumpy as hell. She was wrapped in what looked like an old linen shroud mixed with normal clothes, all of it stained with soil.
Lara hovered nearby, hands behind her back, smiling innocently. “Hi Megan! can you help me with something?”
Megan rubbed her eyes, brushing dirt off her shoulder. “Lara, I was sleeping.”
“I’ll bring you an actual fresh human corpse later,” Lara said sweetly, like she was offering candy.
Megan’s eyes snapped open fully. She suddenly looked very awake. “Okay. What is it?”
Lara grinned. “There’s a new human who just moved into the manor tonight. She’s… passed out in the study right now. Can you carry her back to the master bedroom for me?”
Megan blinked. “Who?”
“The new human,” Lara repeated, a little impatient. “She arrived today. Alive and really cute too. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She reached down and grabbed Megan’s hand, yanking her the rest of the way out of the dirt. Megan stumbled up, still shaking soil from her hair, and let Lara hold onto her.
In a swirl of cold air, both of them disappeared.
They reappeared in the study right next to where you were still out cold on the floor. Lara had already fixed your shorts and underwear while you were unconscious, so at least you weren’t exposed anymore. The hickeys on your neck were still very obvious though.
Megan crouched down immediately, tilting her head as she looked at you. Her eyes scanned your face, then the marks on your neck, then your body.
“This is the new one?” she asked, voice low and a little raspy from sleep. She poked your arm with one dirty finger, testing how warm you were. “Huh. She’s actually solid.”
“Yep,” Lara said proudly, rocking on her heels. “Her name’s Y/n I think. Super funny. She got scared and passed out twice already.”
Megan let out a short huff that might’ve been a laugh. She slid one arm under your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up like you didn’t weigh anything. Your head lolled against her shoulder, still completely unconscious.
“She’s heavier than she looks,” Megan muttered, adjusting her grip.
Lara floated alongside her as they headed toward the stairs. “Be careful witch her neck. I… got a little excited earlier.”
Megan glanced at the hickeys and raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “You’re such a horndog.”
They made it up to the master bedroom without any more incidents. Megan laid you down on the big dusty bed carefully, pulling the blanket over you. She lingered for a second, staring at your face with open curiosity, brushing a bit of hair away from your forehead with surprisingly gentle fingers.
Lara hovered near the foot of the bed, looking pleased with herself.
“She’s going to freak out when she wakes up again,” Megan said quietly.
“Probably,” Lara agreed with a giggle. “But at least she’s back in bed now. Thanks, Megan.”
Megan just grunted and wiped some dirt off her own arm. Her eyes kept drifting back to you though, clearly interested.
Lara hovered beside the bed for a moment longer, watching you sleep with a lazy smile. Then she stretched her arms like she was bored. “Oh well… I’m going now. Bye.”
Megan’s head snapped toward her. “Wha— you’re just gonna leave her here? Lara!”
But Lara was already gone — just a faint shimmer in the air and then nothing. She had teleported away without another word.
Megan stood there in the middle of the master bedroom, covered in grave dirt, staring at the empty spot where Lara had been. “That little… ugh.”
You started stirring a few minutes later. A low groan left your throat as you slowly woke up. Your head was pounding, especially the back of it where you’d hit the floor earlier. Everything felt fuzzy and heavy. You blinked slowly, trying to remember what the hell happened last night.
Before you could sit up properly, Megan rushed over.
“Oh no…” she muttered under her breath. She darted to the old wooden drink cabinet in the corner of the room, yanking it open and grabbing the first bottle she saw.
She didn’t even check what it was — just poured a generous amount into a dusty glass and hurried back to the side of the bed.
“Here,” Megan said quickly, sliding one arm behind your back to help prop you up a little. Her skin was cold and slightly rough, patches of dirt still clinging to her. “Drink this. It might help with the headache.”
Still half out of it, you let her bring the glass to your lips. The liquid was strong and bitter, burning a little as it went down, but you drank most of it anyway. It did ease the throbbing in your skull almost immediately.
You blinked a few more times, vision clearing.
That’s when you really saw her.
Megan was leaning over you, her face close. Pale, gray-blueish skin with visible dark veins, messy hair tangled with bits of dirt and dried leaves. Her eyes had that unnatural dull glow, and her old dress was stained with soil like she’d just crawled out of the ground. She looked exactly like what she was — undead. A zombie.
You choked on the last sip.
“What in the hell—?!” You scrambled backward on the bed, nearly spilling the rest of the glass as you pressed yourself against the headboard. Your heart slammed against your ribs again. “What is it this time?!”
Megan froze, still holding the glass, looking a little startled by your sudden panic. She tilted her head, dirt crumbling off her shoulder.
“I’m Megan…” she said slowly, like it was the most obvious thing. “I was just trying to help with your head. You hit the floor pretty hard earlier.”
You stared at her — at the grave dirt, the unnatural pallor, the way her fingers looked stiff. Your mind flashed back to Lara’s terrifying face, the floating, the way she went through walls. And now this zombie girl was casually feeding you mystery alcohol in your dead grandparents’ bed.
Your voice came out shaky. “None of this is real. I’m still dreaming. Or I died. Or—”
“You’re not dead,” Megan said calmly. She set the glass down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you carefully. “You’re very alive. That’s why we’re all so interested.”
She reached out slowly, almost gently, and brushed some hair away from your forehead, her cold fingers lingering for a second. “Lara got a little too excited and scared you. Sorry about that. She’s… playful.”
You were breathing fast again, eyes wide, stuck between wanting to bolt and being too dizzy to move. Megan just sat there patiently, like a zombie girl casually waiting for you to stop panicking in her haunted manor.
She glanced at the fresh hickeys on your neck and raised an eyebrow. “She really went all out, huh…”
The room tilted. Your head felt fuzzy and warm, like someone had poured hot honey straight into your brain. The drink… it was hitting way stronger than normal alcohol.
“Shit…” you mumbled, pressing a hand to your forehead. Everything felt too hot and too slow at the same time. You slumped back down, head hitting the pillow as you tried to steady yourself.
Megan’s eyes widened. “H-hey, are you okay?” She leaned over you quickly, one cold hand touching your cheek. “You look really flushed all of a sudden…”
She reached for the glass on the nightstand and finally noticed the small folded note stuck underneath it. She opened it and read the elegant handwriting:
“Made by your favorite succubus ;)”
Megan’s face went pale (well, paler). “Oh no… Daniela.”
Before she could explain, you looked up at her. Your eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. The potion was hitting fast — heat spreading through your whole body, making your skin tingle and your cock twitch back to life in your shorts.
Megan’s cold, undead face… it all looked weirdly hot right now.
You didn’t think.
You just grabbed the front of her dirty dress and pulled her down hard, crashing your lips against hers in a messy, desperate kiss.
Megan made a surprised sound against your mouth, stiffening for half a second before melting into it with a low groan. Her lips were cold and dry, you kissed her like you were starving, tongue pushing into her mouth as your hands roamed down her back.
Megan shivered, her cold hands sliding under your shirt, touching your warm skin. “Mmm… wait— the potion…” she tried to mumble between kisses, but you didn’t let her finish.
You rolled on top of her, pinning her down on the bed as you kissed her deeper, hips grinding against her thigh so she could feel how hard you were again.
She tasted like dirt and something sweet underneath. Her body was cold and a little stiff, but she was kissing you back eagerly now, one hand tangled in your hair while the other grabbed your ass, pulling you closer.
You broke the kiss only to trail your mouth down her neck, sucking hard on her cold skin, leaving marks even though you knew they probably wouldn’t stay. Megan let out a shaky breath, arching up into you.
“You’re burning up…” she whispered, voice hoarse. Her hands slipped under your shirt again, pushing it up as her cold palms ran over your toned stomach and chest. “The potion… Daniela’s stuff always makes people so needy…”
You didn’t care.
You just kissed her again, harder this time, grinding your hard cock against her through your shorts.
Megan moaned softly into your mouth, her legs parting slightly so you could settle between them better. Her cold thighs wrapped around one of your legs as she rocked up against you, clearly affected even if her body temperature was lower.
She pulled back just enough to look at your face — flushed, desperate, eyes hazy from the succubus potion.
“You’re really bold when you’re drunk on this stuff…” she murmured, a small, flustered smile tugging at her lips. One of her hands slid down between your bodies, palming your bulge through your shorts. “Oh… you’re so warm.”
You groaned and kissed her again, losing yourself in the weird mix of her cold skin and the burning heat rushing through your veins.
Your hands moved on their own, grabbing the front of Megan’s dirty dress.
The old fabric was already weak and torn in places. You yanked hard.
The dress ripped down the middle with a loud tearing sound, exposing her pale, gray-blueish skin and small breasts.
Dirt crumbled off her chest as you pulled the ruined dress completely off her shoulders and tossed it aside.
Megan let out a surprised gasp, but she didn’t stop you.
You leaned down immediately, mouth latching onto one of her cold nipples. You sucked hard, tongue swirling around the stiff peak as your hand squeezed her other breast.
Her skin was so cold it almost stung against your burning mouth, but you didn’t care. You sucked and licked like you were trying to warm her up, switching between her nipples, leaving them wet and slightly reddened.
“Fuck…” Megan breathed, her voice rough and low. She arched her back, pushing her chest further into your mouth. One of her hands gripped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you kept sucking. “That’s… yeah, like that.”
You groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her chest. Your free hand slid down her body, pushing the rest of the torn dress off her hips until she was completely naked underneath you.
Her body was cold everywhere, skin patchy and marked with faint old scars and dirt smudges, but you couldn’t stop touching her.
You ground your hard cock against her thigh, the friction making you whimper into her breast.
Megan’s breathing was getting heavier. She shifted under you, spreading her legs wider so you could settle between them better. Her hand tugged at your shirt.
“Off, please.” she muttered. “Take it off. I-I wanna feel you.”
You sat up just long enough to yank your shirt over your head and throw it somewhere. The second your bare chest pressed against hers, you went right back to her tits, sucking harder on one nipple while your hand pinched and rolled the other.
Your hips kept rolling, cock leaking against her cold thigh, leaving a wet trail on her skin.
Megan let out a shaky curse, her head falling back against the pillow. “Oh gosh… you’re really going for it.” Her cold fingers ran down your back, nails digging in slightly as she pulled you closer.
You obeyed, switching to her other nipple, sucking it deep into your mouth while your tongue flicked fast. Your hand moved lower, sliding between her legs.
She was cold there too, but getting wetter the more you touched her. You rubbed her clit in slow circles, then pushed two fingers inside her without warning. She clenched around you, tight and cold.
Megan moaned, hips bucking up into your hand. “Yeah… fuck, just like that.”
You kept sucking on her tits, alternating between them, leaving marks and spit all over her chest while your fingers fucked her deeper.
Your cock was throbbing painfully against her thigh, smearing precum everywhere.
The potion made everything feel ten times stronger — every little sound she made, every twitch of her body, every drag of her cold skin against yours pushing you closer to losing it.
Megan’s hand moved down and wrapped around your cock, stroking you slow and firm. “You’re so fucking hard,” she muttered, voice breaking a little. “Been a long time since I felt anything this warm…”
You groaned around her nipple and thrust into her hand, fucking her fingers while your own kept working inside her. The wet sounds of your fingers pumping into her cold pussy mixed with the obscene sucking noises from your mouth on her tits.
Megan’s free hand stayed in your hair, holding you against her chest as her hips started moving faster, chasing your fingers.
The potion had completely taken over.
You let out a low growl against her chest and suddenly flipped her over, pushing Megan off the bed and onto the dusty wooden floor.
She landed on her back with a surprised huff, dirt from her hair scattering across the floorboards. You followed right after, crawling over her and shoving her legs apart roughly.
“Fuck… I need to be inside you,” you muttered, voice hoarse and shaky. Your cock was aching, leaking steadily as you lined yourself up against her cold entrance. “Can’t wait anymore.”
Megan’s eyes widened, but she didn’t push you away. She just spread her legs wider, one hand gripping your shoulder. “Then do it—”
You thrust in hard in one go.
The feeling was intense. Her pussy was freezing cold inside, tight and slick, but the contrast against your burning hot cock made your eyes roll back.
It felt weird — almost uncomfortably cold at first — but so fucking good at the same time. You groaned loudly, burying your face in her neck as you bottomed out, hips flush against hers.
“Shit… you’re so cold,” you gasped, voice breaking. “It feels… fuck, it feels insane.”
Megan’s mouth fell open in a silent moan, her back arching sharply off the floor. Her cold walls clenched hard around your cock, fluttering as she adjusted to the sudden stretch.
“Oh my god—” she choked out, voice high and a little silly from the shock. “I-is this what Lara felt—? Fuck!”
You didn’t give her time to recover. You started moving, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the old bedroom.
Every thrust made her cold insides drag along your length in the most addictive way. The temperature difference was driving you crazy — your burning cock fucking into her freezing pussy over and over.
“Too much?” you panted against her neck, still thrusting hard and deep.
Megan shook her head quickly, legs wrapping around your waist. “No— don’t stop. Keep going. Harder.” Her cold hands grabbed your ass, pulling you deeper with every thrust. “It’s so warm inside me… I can feel everything.”
You growled again and fucked her faster, the floor creaking under you both. You could feel her cold nipples rubbing against yours with every movement. You reached down between you and rubbed her clit with your thumb while pounding into her, making her cry out.
“Fuck, Megan—” you groaned, voice rough. “You’re squeezing me so tight. So fucking cold….”
Megan’s head fell back against the floor, mouth open as broken moans spilled out of her. Her body was jerking with every hard thrust, dirt smudging across her pale skin from how roughly you were fucking her on the ground.
“Yes— right there,” she gasped, nails digging into your back. “Don’t slow down. I’m— fuck, I’m really close already.”
You leaned down and latched onto one of her cold nipples again, sucking hard while you kept slamming into her. The wet, filthy sound of your cock plunging into her cold pussy filled the room. You could feel her getting wetter, her icy slick coating your cock and dripping down onto the floor.
You pulled off her nipple with a wet pop and looked down at her face — eyes half-lidded, mouth open, completely wrecked.
“You feel so good,” you muttered, thrusting deep and grinding against her. “So fucking weird but so good. I’m gonna cum soon if you keep clenching like that.”
Megan let out a shaky laugh that turned into a moan as you hit a particularly deep spot. “Then cum— I want it. I haven’t felt anything like this for a very long—”
Her words cut off in a sharp cry as her orgasm hit her. Her cold walls spasmed hard around your cock, squeezing rhythmically as she came, back arching off the floor.
You groaned loudly and fucked her through it, the intense cold pulsing around you pushing you right to the edge.
“Fuck— Megan—” You buried yourself deep and came hard, hips stuttering as you pumped thick ropes of cum into her freezing pussy. The contrast made the pleasure last longer, your cock twitching inside her as you filled her up.
You collapsed on top of her, both of you breathing hard. Your warm body pressed against her cold one, cum leaking out around your cock where you were still buried inside her.
Megan’s arms wrapped loosely around your back, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as she caught her breath.
You stayed inside her for a long moment, panting against her neck, before the fog in your brain started clearing just enough for reality to crash back in.
“Wait… what the fuck did I just do?” you mumbled, voice hoarse. You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, staring down at Megan — naked, covered in dirt smudges, your cum slowly leaking out of her cold pussy.
Your cock was still half-hard inside her. The potion was still simmering in your blood, making your skin feel too hot and your head fuzzy.
You pulled out with a wet sound and sat back on your heels, eyes wide. “I just… I fucked you. On the floor. Like an animal. What the hell is wrong with me? That drink— that wasn’t…”
Megan blinked up at you, still lying flat on her back, chest rising and falling. She looked a little dazed herself. Then she let out a small, awkward laugh.
“Uhh… yeah. That was one of Daniela’s potions,” she said, scratching the side of her head and getting more dirt in her hair. “She likes making them extra strong. Sorry. I should’ve checked the label.”
You ran a hand down your face, still breathing hard. Your cock twitched again just from looking at her naked body, the potion refusing to let you calm down completely. “This is insane. I don’t even know what are you and I just—”
“Hey, hey, relax,” Megan interrupted, sitting up slowly. She looked a bit silly trying to be soothing while completely naked and covered in dirt. “It’s okay. You’re not a bad person or anything. The potion just makes you… really horny. And honest. That’s all.”
She scooted closer on her knees, still on the floor with you. Her breasts swayed slightly with the movement. She glanced down at them, then back at you, cheeks faintly darker.
“H-here…” she mumbled, a little shy but determined. “You liked my breasts earlier, right? When you were sucking on them?”
Before you could answer, Megan cupped one of her own breasts and flicked her cold nipple with her thumb, making it harden instantly. She played with it slowly, rolling it between her fingers while watching your face.
You were stunned, mouth slightly open, eyes locked on her fingers toying with her nipple. The potion was still buzzing in your veins, making your cock twitch visibly at the sight.
Megan noticed. She gave a small, awkward smile and kept playing with her nipple, pinching it lightly. “See? It’s okay. You can touch them again if it helps you calm down.”
You didn’t move at first, still processing everything, but the sight of her cold fingers on her own breast was too much. Megan noticed your hesitation and gently reached out, caressing the back of your head with her cold hand. She guided you forward slowly, almost tenderly.
“Come here,” she whispered. “It’s alright.”
She pulled your head down to her chest. Your mouth found her cold nipple almost instinctively. You latched on and started suckling, slow and deep, tongue swirling around the stiff peak. The coldness against your hot mouth made you groan softly. Megan let out a quiet sigh, her hand staying in your hair, gently stroking and petting you as you sucked.
“That’s it…” she murmured, voice soft. “Just like that. Take your time.”
You switched to her other breast, sucking harder, lips sealed tight around her cold nipple while your hand squeezed the first one. The contrast was addictive — your burning mouth against her freezing skin. Megan’s fingers kept running through your hair in slow, soothing strokes, like she was trying to calm a scared animal.
You moaned around her nipple, the sound muffled against her chest as you kept suckling, eyes half-closed. The potion was still making everything feel heightened, but Megan’s gentle petting was strangely helping you relax even as your cock stayed hard between your legs.
Megan let out a small, content hum, her cold nipple hardening even more in your mouth. “You’re really good at that,” she whispered, still stroking your hair. “T-thank you…”
>> After your grandparents passed, your parents dumped their old, rotting manor on you with zero help. “You’re broke, so deal with it,” they said. Reluctantly, you move into the isolated, creepy estate alone, expecting dust, leaks, and maybe some rats.
pair ; dom!ghost!lara raj x g!p!reader
tags ; blowjob. handjob. nipple sucking. praise.
-> ‘MYLM’ masterlist.
—
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not staying there.”
You cross your arms tight across your chest, staring at your parents like they’ve lost their goddamn minds.
The three of you are standing in the middle of your tiny apartment kitchen, the one with the leaky faucet and the rent that’s two weeks late again. Your mom’s holding a thick yellow envelope with your grandparents’ names on it. Your dad just looks tired.
“Sweetheart, it’s not like we’re asking you to move to Antarctica,” your mom says, trying to sound reasonable. “The manor’s been in the family for generations. Your grandparents left it specifically to you.”
“Yeah, because they were creepy as hell,” you mutter under your breath.
Big mistake.
Your mom’s eyes go wide. “How dare you.”
Your dad sighs like he’s aged ten years in the last thirty seconds. “Watch your mouth. They raised me in that house. Show some respect.”
“Respect?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Grandpa used to talk to the walls at night. Grandma collected dead butterflies and told me they were ‘watching me sleep.’ I had nightmares for weeks every time we visited. That place is straight out of a horror movie.”
Your mom slams the envelope on the counter. “They’re dead, Y/n. Gone. And they left everything to you. The house, the land, all of it. Do you know how lucky you are?”
“Lucky?” Your voice cracks as you gesture wildly around your sad little apartment. “I’m broke, Mom. I know that. You don’t have to rub it in my face every five minutes. But I’d rather sleep in my car than live in that creepy ass mansion in the middle of nowhere.”
Your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re not helping you with rent anymore. We told you that. You’re twenty-three. It’s time to figure it out.”
“So your solution is to ship me off to a haunted house? Real supportive parenting, guys.”
“It’s not haunted,” your mom snaps. “It’s just old. It needs some cleaning, some love. You’ll be fine.”
You stare at them, heart pounding. Part of you wants to scream. Part of you wants to cry. But the worst part? They’re right.
You are broke.
Your job barely covers food, let alone rent, and your savings account is laughing at you. Moving back in with them isn’t an option — they made that crystal clear last month.
So here you are. Cornered.
“I hate you both right now,” you say quietly, voice shaking.
Your mom softens just a little, reaching out to touch your arm. You pull away. “You’ll thank us later. The manor’s paid off. No mortgage. You can finally breathe.”
“Yeah. Breathe in eighty years of dust and dead people vibes,” you mutter.
Your dad hands you the keys. They’re heavy and cold in your palm, old-fashioned iron ones that look like they belong in a museum. “The movers already took your stuff this morning. You just need to drive up there.”
“Today?” Your eyes widen. “You’re kicking me out today?”
“We’re not kicking you out,” your mom says, but she won’t meet your eyes. “We’re giving you an opportunity.”
You snatch the envelope and keys, shoving them into your backpack with more force than necessary. “Whatever. I hope the place is actually haunted and the ghosts eat me. At least then you’ll feel bad.”
Your mom looks genuinely hurt..
The drive is long and quiet. Hours of winding roads that get narrower and narrower until the trees start crowding in like they’re trying to swallow your car.
By the time you pull up the long gravel driveway, the sun is already setting, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges.
The manor looms.
It’s bigger than you remembered. Three stories of dark wood and stone, ivy crawling up the walls like veins.
Some of the windows are cracked. The front porch sags a little. The air feels… heavier here.
You kill the engine and just sit there, gripping the steering wheel.
“This is insane,” you whisper to yourself. “Completely insane.”
You force yourself out of the car anyway. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you drag your suitcase toward the front door. The key sticks at first, like the house itself doesn’t want you inside. When it finally turns, the door creaks open with a sound straight out of every horror movie ever made.
Inside it smells like old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet. Like flowers that died years ago.
You flick on the lights. A few bulbs buzz and flicker before staying on. The foyer is massive, with a chandelier hanging way too low and a grand staircase that curves up into darkness.
“Home sweet home,” you mutter, kicking the door shut behind you.
The sound echoes.
You spend the next hour dragging your stuff inside and wandering room to room, flipping on every light you can find. The kitchen is ancient but huge. The living room has furniture covered in white sheets like ghosts. Upstairs there are way too many bedrooms, all of them cold and untouched.
By the time you collapse onto the dusty master bed (the one your grandparents used to sleep in), you’re exhausted. Mentally. Physically.
And spiritually.
You stare at the ceiling, the old wooden beams staring back.
“Ugh, I hate this,” you say out loud, just to hear a voice in the silence. “If any ghosts are listening… do me a favor and stay away.”
A floorboard creaks somewhere down the hall.
You freeze.
Probably just the house settling. Old houses do that.
Right?
You finally drifted off somewhere, too drained to even change out of your clothes.
Slow, heavy footsteps dragged across the dusty wooden floor, getting closer to the master bedroom. The door that you swore you closed was already halfway open.
Sophia stood in the doorway.
Tall and imposing, her skin carried a deep red undertone with small dark horns curling from her forehead. Her eyes glowed faintly, one completely black, the other a burning ember.
A long, thin tail swayed lazily behind her, the tip occasionally tapping against the floor. She wore an old, tattered black dress that clung to her frame, the fabric looking singed at the edges.
She stopped at the edge of the bed and just… stared at you for a long time. Head tilted. Breathing slow and low.
She leaned down, close enough that her warm breath brushed your neck. Her nose hovered near your collarbone, then your hair, taking you in carefully. Curious.
Her fingers — warmer than they should be — hovered over your arm but didn’t quite touch.
After a minute she straightened up again, satisfied, and turned to leave the room.
She didn’t get far.
Right outside the bedroom door stood a tall figure completely covered in a white sheet, two big black holes cut out for eyes.
Sophia startled, one hand jerking up. “Yoonchae… you scared me.”
The sheet ghost tilted her head, then two small hands reached up and lifted the bottom of the blanket just enough to reveal Yoonchae’s face — soft curious eyes, and messy dark hair sticking out everywhere.
“Sorry…” Yoonchae whispered, voice quiet and a little shy. “Who was that…?”
Sophia’s expression softened immediately, the faint glow in her eyes dimming. “Our new guest. She’s sleeping.“
Yoonchae peeked around Sophia’s side, trying to get another look into the bedroom without getting too close. Her eyes were wide with quiet wonder. “She looks tired.”
Sophia nodded slowly, glancing back toward you.
Yoonchae pulled the sheet a little higher around herself, almost hiding again. “Do you think she’ll be nice…?”
“I hope so,” Sophia murmured gently. She reached out and lightly adjusted the sheet on Yoonchae’s head, making sure it stayed in place. “We’ll watch over her for now. Let her rest. And don’t bother her yet. Lara will probably want to call dibs on the first prank anyway.”
Yoonchae gave a small nod, still looking toward the bed with quiet interest. She stayed half-hidden behind Sophia, the edge of the white sheet dragging softly along the floor as they both stood there for a little longer, watching you sleep.
You stirred slightly in the bed, mumbling something about the stupid manor before turning over and pulling the blanket higher.
The two of them stayed quiet, not wanting to wake you.
A few hours later, you jolted awake at exactly 3:07 AM, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out.
The nightmare was already fading — something about shadows crawling up the walls and cold hands grabbing your ankles — but the fear stayed stuck in your chest.
“Fuck this place,” you muttered, rubbing your face. Your voice sounded too loud in the dead silence.
You grabbed your phone from your pocket, the screen lighting up and hurting your eyes. The battery was still decent.
You opened the browser, typed in the usual site with shaky fingers, and scrolled until you found something that looked decent. A girl getting railed hard, loud moans filling your headphones as you shoved one earbud in.
Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. You were already half-hard from the dream adrenaline and the video. Fingers wrapped around your cock, stroking slowly at first, breath getting heavier as you tried to lose yourself in it.
Thud.
Something heavy fell somewhere down the hall.
You froze, hand still down your pants. The moan in your ear suddenly felt stupid. You yanked the earbud out and sat up, listening.
Nothing.
“Probably just the house settling,” you whispered. But your pulse was racing again. You waited another minute, then shook your head. “Wait… I’m not a pussy. This is my house now.”
You pulled your hand out, fixed your shorts, and stood up. Shirt rumpled, barefoot, you crept out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, phone flashlight on.
Every creak of the stairs made you wince. The living room looked the same — sheets over furniture, dust floating in the beam of light. You swept the flashlight around.
Nothing moved. No broken shit on the floor.
“See? Nothing,” you said, trying to sound brave. “Just old wood doing old wood things.”
Then you felt it.
A presence right behind you.
Before you could turn, a loud crash exploded to your left — a glass vase or ornament smashing against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.
You whipped around. “What the actual fuck?!”
No one there.
Panic hit hard. You bolted, feet pounding on the dusty floor. Your foot caught on the edge of a rug and you went down hard, slamming into the ground with a grunt. Pain shot through your elbow and knee.
When you pushed yourself up, groaning, there she was.
Floating a few feet away was a girl in a long black nightgown, dark skin almost. Her dark hair floated slightly like she was underwater. Big, playful eyes looked down at you with fake sympathy.
“Aw, poor you…” Lara said softly, tilting her head. Her voice was light and teasing, like she was holding back a giggle.
Your brain short-circuited. You stared at her, mouth open, trying to process the floating girl in your grandparents’ manor at 3 AM. Then everything went black.
You passed out cold on the floor.
Lara drifted closer, lowering herself until her bare feet hovered just above the ground. She crouched down beside you, curious.
Your shirt had ridden up during the fall, exposing a strip of toned stomach and the waistband of your shorts. She blinked slowly, taking in the way your body looked — surprisingly fit under the baggy clothes you’d worn for the move.
Her fingers hovered over your stomach, not quite touching, feeling the warmth radiating off your skin. A small, interested smile tugged at her lips.
For a second you thought the whole thing was still part of the nightmare — until you tried to sit up and a sharp pain shot through your elbow.
Yeah. Real.
Your heart was still racing like crazy. The flashlight from your phone had rolled a few feet away, casting weird long shadows across the room.
You blinked hard, trying to shake off the dizziness, and that’s when you saw her again.
She wasn’t floating anymore.
Lara had shifted. The ghostly glow was gone. Now she looked… Human. And stupidly, unfairly gorgeous.
Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, a few strands framing her face. Warm brown skin that looked smooth under the moonlight, full lips, and big expressive eyes that watched you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
She wore a simple black slip dress that hugged her body in a way that made it hard to look away — even though every instinct in you was screaming to run.
You scrambled backward on the floor until your back hit the wall, breathing fast. “What the fuck… who are you? What are you?”
Lara tilted her head, that playful little smile still on her lips. She stayed crouched for a moment longer before slowly standing up, moving with this light, graceful energy that didn’t quite match the heavy old house around her.
“You fell pretty hard,” she said softly, voice gentle but clearly entertained. “I didn’t mean for you to knock yourself out like that.”
Your brain was struggling to keep up. She looked real. She sounded real. But people didn’t just float. And normal girls didn’t appear in abandoned manors at 3 AM wearing nothing but a thin black dress.
You pushed yourself up a little more, wincing. Your shirt was still halfway ridden up from the fall, exposing your stomach, and your shorts… fuck.
You were still half-hard from earlier, the adrenaline and leftover arousal mixing together in the worst possible way. The bulge in your shorts was obvious if anyone was actually looking.
And she was looking.
Lara’s eyes flicked down for a second, lingering. Her eyebrows raised just a tiny bit, a spark of interest flashing across her face before she met your eyes again. She didn’t say anything about it, but the small smirk that tugged at her lips told you she definitely noticed.
You didn’t even register it yourself — too busy being terrified, blood pounding in your ears. All you could think was ghost, demon, monster, run.
“I—I’m losing my mind,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your forehead. “This isn’t happening. You’re not real. I’m going back to sleep and when I wake up—”
“You’re not crazy,” Lara cut in, stepping a little closer. She moved carefully, like she was approaching a scared animal. “And I’m very real. Well… real enough now.”
She glanced down at her own hands, turning them over like she was still getting used to the solid form. “It’s been a long time since we had someone living here who could actually see us. And touch us.”
Us.
The word made your stomach drop.
You tried to stand but your legs felt shaky. Lara watched you the whole time, that gorgeous face calm but clearly amused by how freaked out you were. Up close she was even prettier — sharp jawline, long lashes, the way her hair contrasted against the black dress.
She looked like she could’ve stepped out of a magazine if it wasn’t for the faint, unnatural shimmer around her edges when she moved.
“You threw that glass,” you said accusingly, voice hoarse. “I heard it. I saw it.”
Lara shrugged lightly, biting back a grin. “I got excited. Sorry. I’ve been waiting for someone fun to show up.” Her eyes drifted down again for half a second, taking in the way your body looked — the exposed skin, the obvious shape in your shorts — before flicking back up. “You’re… warmer than I expected. And stronger looking under all those baggy clothes.”
You tugged your shirt down quickly, face burning. “Stay back. I don’t know what you are but—”
Before you could finish, another set of footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Lara glanced toward the staircase and sighed, almost like she was annoyed at the interruption. “Sophia’s coming. She’s gonna be mad I scared you first. I think.” She looked back at you, eyes sparkling. “Don’t pass out again, okay? We’ve been lonely.”
You pressed harder against the wall, heart hammering, trying to process the fact that this beautiful girl in front of you had just thrown a vase with her mind and was now casually talking about “we” like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Lara’s smile softened a little, like she was trying to be friendly. “Y’know what? Let’s just chat. I promise I won’t throw anything else. You look like you have questions and—”
Nope.
You didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. Pure panic took over. You bolted, feet slipping on the dusty floor as you sprinted toward the nearest hallway.
“Hey!” Lara called after you, voice losing its playful tone. “Don’t run!”
You didn’t listen. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst. You rounded the corner, breathing ragged, and spotted the first door you could find. You shoved it open, practically falling inside what looked like an old study or library — tall shelves, covered furniture, one big window letting in moonlight.
You slammed the door shut and dragged a heavy wooden chair over, jamming it under the handle with shaking hands. Your back pressed against the door as you tried to catch your breath.
“Okay… okay, calm down,” you whispered to yourself. “This isn’t real. None of this is—”
A soft shimmer appeared right in front of you.
Lara stepped straight through the wall like it was nothing, that white slip dress flowing around her body. Her expression had changed — no more cute playful smile. Now she looked irritated, brows furrowed, full lips pressed into a thin line.
You stumbled backward. “What the hell—?!”
Before you could get another word out, Lara moved fast. She grabbed both of your wrists and slammed them against the wall above your head with surprising strength. The impact made you gasp. She had you pinned — her body pressing close enough that you could feel the cool-but-not-cold energy radiating off her.
“Stop. Running.” Her voice was low, annoyed, a little breathy. Those big dark eyes stared right into yours, inches away. “I’ve been stuck in this house for decades and the first living person who shows up decides to sprint away like I’m going to eat them? Rude.”
You were breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast. Your wrists ached a little where her hands held them firmly against the wall. She was taller than you expected in this form, and way stronger.
Her warm brown skin looked flawless up close, long dark hair falling over one shoulder. She really was stupidly gorgeous — the kind of pretty that made your brain short-circuit even while you were terrified.
Lara’s gaze dropped again, lingering lower. Your shorts were still tented, the outline of your half-hard cock even more obvious now that you were pinned and breathing heavily. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately.
“You’re scared…” she murmured, voice dropping an octave, “but your body isn’t.”
She leaned in closer. Her nose brushed along your jaw, then she dragged her tongue slowly up the side of your neck — hot, wet, and teasing. A shiver shot straight down your spine. Your cock twitched hard in your shorts, now fully hard and pressing uncomfortably against the fabric.
“Fuck—” you hissed, trying to pull your arms free, but she held you there easily.
Lara hummed against your skin, licking another slow stripe up your neck before gently sucking on the spot right under your ear. Her body pressed flush against yours now, soft breasts brushing your chest through that thin dress.
One of her thighs slid between your legs, pressing lightly against your bulge and making you groan despite yourself.
“You’re warm,” she whispered, lips brushing your skin with every word. “So warm… and hard already. Even though you’re shaking.” She rolled her hips once, grinding against your thigh while keeping your arms pinned. “I like that.”
Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. Part of you still wanted to scream and run, but the feeling of her tongue on your neck, her body against yours, and the way she was looking at you — like she wanted to devour every inch — was making it really fucking hard to think straight.
Lara pulled back just enough to look at your face again. Her cheeks were slightly flushed now, eyes darker. She looked less irritated and more hungry.
“Tell me your name,” she said, voice husky. She rolled her thigh against your cock again, firmer this time, drawing a shaky breath out of you. “Or I can keep guessing while I taste more of you…”
Her tongue flicked out again, tracing your collarbone this time, dipping lower toward the neckline of your shirt. She was taking her time, savoring the way your body reacted even when your mouth was still trying to protest.
You were trapped between fear and heat, cock throbbing against her thigh, wrists still pinned above your head by this gorgeous ghost girl who definitely wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she murmured, voice low and husky. “Not until I get a better taste.”
She leaned in again, not a kiss but her hot tongue dragging slowly up the side of your neck. A long, deliberate lick that made your whole body tense. Your cock throbbed painfully hard in your shorts, the bulge pressed against her thigh as she kept you trapped there.
With her free hand, Lara tugged at the collar of your shirt, yanking it aside and tucking the fabric over your shoulder so more of your neck and collarbone were exposed.
She hummed in approval, then gave you another long, wet lick from the base of your neck all the way up to just below your ear, savoring the way you shivered.
“Mm… salty,” she whispered against your skin before latching on, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey. She did it again, then again, marking a trail down your neck.
Your breathing was ragged, hips twitching involuntarily into her leg.
Lara pulled back slightly, eyes scanning lower. Without warning she used her free hand to tug down the thin strap of her own black dress, letting it slip off one shoulder.
Her full brown breast spilled out, nipple already hard in the cool air of the room. The sight made your mouth go dry.
She smirked at your reaction.
“Look at you… staring even while you’re scared.” She grabbed the back of your head with her free hand and pushed your face forward, pressing your mouth right against her bare breast. “Suck.”
You hesitated for half a second, but the way she rolled her hips against you again made you give in. Your lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder when she let out a soft pleased sound. Your tongue swirled around it as she held you there, guiding your head.
“Good…” Lara breathed, her head tilting back a little. She kept your wrists pinned with one hand while the other stayed tangled in your hair, encouraging you to keep suckling. “Keep going. Use your tongue more.”
While you worked on her breast, she returned to your neck — licking long stripes across your skin, sucking more hickeys into the freshly exposed areas. Every time her tongue dragged over you, your cock jumped against her thigh, leaking a little into your shorts.
Lara shifted, pressing her bare breast firmer against your mouth, smothering you slightly as she ground down harder on your bulge. The friction was driving you crazy. You moaned into her skin, the sound muffled.
She laughed softly, low and breathy. “You’re so hard...” Her hand finally left your wrists, but only so she could slide it down your body, palm dragging over your chest and stomach before cupping your bulge through your shorts.
She squeezed once, firm, making you groan louder around her nipple.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her fingers traced the outline of your cock teasingly before squeezing again. “I want to feel it properly soon…”
She tugged her dress lower on the other side too, letting her second breast spill free. Then she pulled your head over to the other one, pushing your face in. “Don’t stop. Suckle.”
Your hands were finally free, but you didn’t try to run this time. Instead they landed on her waist, gripping the black fabric of her dress as you obeyed, sucking and licking at her other nipple while she continued marking up your neck and shoulder with her tongue and teeth.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of your mouth on her breasts and both of your heavy breathing. Lara’s hips kept rolling against you, grinding on your thigh while her hand stroked your cock over your shorts, slow and teasing.
She was clearly enjoying how overwhelmed you were — flushed, marked up, desperately sucking on her tits while your cock strained for more attention.
Lara leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “You’re not scared anymore, are you? Not really… You like this.”
Her hand squeezed your cock again, thumb rubbing over the head through the fabric, spreading the wetness that had soaked through.
Her hand stayed tangled in your hair, guiding you, while her other hand kept slowly palming your cock through your shorts. The fabric was already damp from how much you were leaking.
After a minute she gently pulled your head back, her breast slipping from your mouth with a wet pop. Her eyes were darker now, breathing a little heavier.
She looked at you for a second — flushed face, hickeys already blooming on your neck, obvious bulge straining in your shorts.
Without saying anything, she slowly sank down to her knees in front of you, the black slip dress shifting around her thighs. Her hands slid up your legs, then hooked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down just enough to free your cock.
It sprang out, heavy and fully hard, the tip glistening. Lara’s eyes widened slightly, a small genuine smile tugging at her lips as she wrapped her fingers around the base.
“Wow…” she murmured, almost under her breath. “You really are big.”
She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly from the base all the way up to the tip in one long, wet stripe. Then she did it again, slower this time, tasting you properly. Your hips jerked forward on instinct and she pressed one hand against your stomach to keep you still against the wall.
Lara glanced up at you through her lashes. “Relax… I’ve got you.”
She circled her tongue around the head, licking away the precum before wrapping her lips around just the tip and sucking gently.
The wet heat of her mouth made your knees feel weak. She took her time, bobbing her head little by little, taking more of you with each slow movement while her tongue pressed flat against the underside.
One of her hands stroked what she couldn’t fit yet, twisting lightly at the base. The other hand rested on your thigh, squeezing every time she sucked a little harder.
You groaned, head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. Your hand instinctively moved to her hair, not pushing, just holding on. Lara made a soft approving sound around your cock and took you deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she worked you.
She pulled off for a second, breathing warm air over your wet length as she stroked you steadily with her hand. “You’re shaking,” she said quietly, almost teasing. “Still scared? Or just really sensitive?”
Before you could answer she dipped back down, taking you into her mouth again, deeper this time. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking filled the quiet old study. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight through your cock and making your thighs tense.
Lara’s head moved faster now, smooth and confident, her dark hair swaying with the motion. Every so often she’d pull back to lick long stripes along the sides or swirl her tongue around the head before sliding back down.
She was clearly enjoying herself — the way she kept looking up at your face, watching every reaction you gave her.
Your breathing was getting messier, hips twitching whenever she sucked particularly hard. Lara noticed and pressed you firmer against the wall with her free hand, keeping control. She took you even deeper, until you could feel the back of her throat, then swallowed around you.
“Fuck—” you choked out, fingers tightening in her hair.
She pulled back with a wet gasp, a thin string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. Her hand kept stroking you, fast and slick.
“You taste good,” she whispered, voice a little rough. She licked her lips and went right back to it, sucking you with renewed focus, hollowing her cheeks and working her tongue along every sensitive spot she could find.
The pleasure was building fast. Between the fear from earlier, the adrenaline, and how insanely good her mouth felt, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Lara seemed to sense it too.
She moaned softly around your cock, the vibration making your toes curl, and doubled her efforts — head bobbing quicker, hand stroking in perfect rhythm with her mouth.
She pulled off just long enough to murmur against your slick tip, “Go ahead… I want it.”
Then she sank back down, taking you as deep as she could, eyes locked on yours as she waited for you to fall apart.
You came hard with a broken groan, hips jerking against her face as thick spurts filled her mouth. Lara didn’t pull away. She swallowed around you, taking everything you gave her with soft, wet sounds, her throat working as she milked you through every pulse.
Even after you finished she didn’t stop right away — she kept sucking gently, tongue swirling to clean every inch, licking up the mess that had dripped down your shaft. When she finally pulled off, she gave one last long, slow lick from base to tip, making sure she got it all.
A small satisfied hum left her as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and licked that clean too.
You slumped back against the wall, chest heaving, legs shaky as hell. Your head was spinning — fear, pleasure, confusion all crashing together. You tried to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded, barely able to focus.
Lara stood up slowly, graceful as ever, her black slip dress still hanging off one shoulder, breasts exposed. She looked at you with a soft little smile, brushing her hair back like nothing crazy had just happened.
For a second everything felt almost… calm.
Then her face changed.
Her eyes went completely black — no whites, just endless dark voids. Her smile stretched too wide, unnatural, showing teeth that looked sharper than before.
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
Her head tilted at a wrong angle, hair floating slightly like she was underwater again. The beautiful girl from moments ago was gone.
This was something else.
Something so fucking terrifying.
You froze, heart slamming against your ribs.
“What the—”
Your words died in your throat. Pure primal fear hit you like a truck. Your vision blurred at the edges, knees buckling.
You passed out cold for the second time that night, sliding down the wall until you hit the floor in a pathetic heap.
Lara’s scary expression dropped immediately. Her eyes returned to normal, the sharp teeth disappeared, and she blinked a couple times like she just realized what she’d done.
“Woopsie daisy…” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.
Then she started giggling. Quiet at first, then a little louder, the sound light and genuinely amused as she looked down at your unconscious body slumped on the dusty floor, shorts still pulled down, neck covered in her hickeys.
She crouched beside you again, tilting her head curiously. Her fingers hovered over your cheek for a second before she gently poked it.
“You’re really dramatic,” she muttered fondly, still giggling under her breath. “It’s cute though.”
Lara stayed there for a moment, watching you breathe, the playful ghost energy back in full force now that the scare was over. She fixed the strap of her black dress, covering herself again, and glanced toward the door like she was wondering if the noise had woken anyone else up.
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.
Thinking about MILF Wanda who cuts her hair and is scared you're not gonna be attracted to her anymore, only for you to immediately prove her wrong. (inspired by a conversation with @sunalianovna :) )
Wanda had been a little restless ever since her sons moved out for college. She didn't know what to do with herself now that her life was so much quieter, and she needed a change.
She had you, of course, you helped her feel young, but she felt like she just really needed to mix something up in her life.
So, she decided to get a haircut. Her long, red hair had been her staple since her sons were born; it had been straight, curly, and everything in between, but it had never been short.
Originally, she was just going to go for shoulder length, but when she described her vision and wants to her hairstylist, she recommended something even shorter.
Wanda held her tears back until she was back in her car. Her hair had been cut up to her neck; fortunately, it was still wavy and had some volume, but now she just felt... old. Ugly. The opposite of how she wanted this haircut to make her feel.
Your eyes widened when your girlfriend arrived home and walked through the door. She looked gorgeous. You never imagined hair like this on her, but you were instantly a fan.
You stood up, mouth opening to tell her how pretty she was, when she held her hand up and looked away from you. "Don't look at me, darlin'. I don't want you to see me like this."
You froze, immediately confused. She looked stunning, why didn't she want you to see her? You tilted her head up, and, reluctantly, she let you. You took a moment to admire her new look, examining the way the new cut framed her face and made her eyes pop. "Wanda... you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Wanda laughed in her signature bitter way, shaking her head and pushing your hand away from her chin. "Don't you lie to me. I just look even more like an old lady now than I did before."
She pushed past you, walking towards the kitchen. She poured herself some tea to try to soothe herself, but she just gazed into the cup, not drinking anything. You approached her again, ready to console her, when she spoke first, her voice shakier than you'd ever heard it before. "How can you still want me like this? I'm an old woman who now looks the part. You should be with some sweet thing, one of them girls the boys are at college wi-"
You pressed your lips to hers, not allowing her to finish that foolish sentence. You wouldn't let her continue to think like this. When you pulled away, she looked startled, but her cheeks were also blooming with that adorable blush you loved so much. "Don't you dare, Wanda. Put me in a room with a hundred girls my age, and I'm still choosing you."
You cupped her face in your hands, one hand going up to run through her now short hair. "You look so goddamn beautiful like this, I don't even have the words for it. You are my woman, Wanda, whether your hair goes down to your feet or you have no hair at all."
You watched her tear up, soon flinging her arms around your neck and pulling you close. She cried into your shoulder for a few moments, and you just held her. As her sobs quieted, she mumbled, "You really mean that?"
You nodded, a grin spreading across your face as you thought up just the way to prove it to her. As you lifted her up onto the counter, kneeling between her legs, you answered, "Every word of it."
As Wanda threw her head back, her hair no longer getting in her way as she got lost in the pleasure you gave her, she knew she had nothing to fear. You always found the best ways to show your love and soothe her heart.
Once she came, crying out your name and leaning back against the kitchen cabinets, she was actually grateful that her hair wasn't in her face and sticking to her back. Bust most importantly, as you stood up, you had a look on your face that said you were far from done with her.
Maybe this haircut did have some benefits, after all.
Warnings: major character death implied, smut, angst
A/N: Sad smut is my jam.
-X-
Kneeling in the center of bed, Wanda’s right hand slowly trailed over her throat while its twin skimmed her belly, inching closer to damp curls. Her eyes closed, breathing stuttering when her hands were replaced with yours. Your hand cupped her mound and a broken little whine escaped her parted lips, head tipping back.
Your fingers were colder than normal, but she didn’t mind. All that mattered was your hands on her body — one gripping just below her jaw, the other beginning to explore her folds.
“Please, detka…” she whispered, eyes clamped shut like she’d shatter if she dared to open them.
“Shhh.” Your breath ghosted over her cheek as two fingers dipped into her cunt, crooking in that familiar way that drove her mad.
She was panting, grinding her hips into every thrust and curl of your fingers, the thinnest string of spit leaking from the corner of her mouth. Your thumb found her swollen clit, massaging it in a circle-eight as your hand sped up.
“You feel so fucking good, baby. I’ve missed you,” you murmured into her ear, the tips of your fingers finding that perfect, sweet spot inside her pussy.
A stray tear fell from the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t respond, too lost in the feeling of your touch. Hips jerking erratically as she chased the sensations.
“That’s it, princess. Cum for me.”
The words were so fucking soft, almost lost beneath the sound of her moans as her body locked up, shuddering as her cunt clenched around the fingers buried inside. Her hips jumped forward, once, twice, before she slumped backward in exhaustion —
Her back landing softly on the sheets of her bed, her own hand still trapped between her thighs.
As the tears finally began to fall, the sounds that filled the room were no longer ones of pleasure. These were a dam breaking open.
“…please, come back,” she whispered up to the ceiling, eyes refusing to open. Because if she opened them, she’d have to accept the truth. “I miss you.”
Can I request Sophia x g!p reader having car sex and almost getting caught but still continuing
Risk and Rubber
Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x g!p Reader Warnings: explicit smut, car sex, semi-public risk, g!p, fingering, oral tease, creampie fantasy (protected), dirty talk, almost caught, multiple orgasms
The city lights streaked across the windshield like liquid gold as you navigated the quiet late-night streets. Dinner had been pure torture—Sophia across from you in that slinky black dress that hugged every curve, the high slit flashing smooth thigh every time she crossed her legs. Her laughter had been light and sweet, but her eyes told a different story. Dark, hungry, promising.
Your hand had rested on her thigh the entire drive, fingers tracing lazy patterns higher and higher under the fabric. Sophia shifted restlessly, her breath catching every time your fingertips brushed the lace edge of her panties.
“Baby,” she murmured, voice already thick with need. She placed her hand over yours and pressed it firmer against her heat. “I’ve been dripping since you looked at me over dessert like you wanted to devour me right there in the restaurant. I can’t wait anymore. I need your cock.”
Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, cock already straining painfully against your pants. “Fuck, Soph. You’re gonna kill me.” You spotted a narrow side street between two quiet office buildings—dim lighting, no foot traffic, perfect cover at this hour. You turned in and killed the engine in the deepest shadow.
The second the car went silent, Sophia was climbing over the console like she’d been waiting all night. Her dress rode up to her hips as she straddled your lap, knees bracketing your thighs. Her mouth crashed into yours—hot, desperate, tongue sliding deep and filthy. She tasted like the sweet wine from dinner and pure sin. Your hands roamed up her thighs, gripping the soft flesh of her ass and pulling her down hard against the thick bulge in your slacks.
She moaned into your mouth, grinding slowly, rolling her hips in a teasing rhythm that made your cock throb. “Feel how wet I am already?” she whispered against your lips, nipping at your bottom one. “All for you.”
You pushed her dress higher, exposing the black lace panties clinging to her soaked folds. Sliding them aside, you ran two fingers through her slickness, coating them before circling her swollen clit. Sophia gasped sharply, hips jerking forward. You dipped lower and pushed both fingers inside her tight heat without warning. She was scorching, velvety walls clenching greedily around the intrusion.
“Shit—yes,” she whimpered, riding your fingers shamelessly. You curled them, stroking that spongy spot inside her while your thumb worked tight, fast circles on her clit. The wet, obscene sounds of your fingers pumping in and out filled the car. Sophia’s head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. You leaned in and sucked marks into her skin, biting down just hard enough to make her moan louder.
“You’re so fucking tight,” you growled, adding a third finger and stretching her open. “Gonna feel even better around my cock.”
Sophia’s hand fumbled between you, yanking your belt open and freeing your thick, aching length. It sprang up heavy and veined, the head already glistening with precum. She wrapped her delicate fingers around you, stroking slowly from base to tip while you finger-fucked her harder.
Then she reached into the glove compartment with a wicked little smile, pulling out a foil packet. Her eyes locked on yours as she tore it open with her teeth. “Protection is so fucking hot,” she purred, rolling the latex down your cock with deliberate, teasing slowness. She smoothed it inch by inch, squeezing the base, stroking you through the thin barrier until it was stretched tight and glistening. “I love watching you get covered for me… knowing you’re still going to ruin this pussy.”
You hissed at the sensation, hips bucking up into her hand. “You’re such a dirty tease, Soph.”
She lifted herself, positioned the fat head of your condom-covered cock at her dripping entrance, and sank down in one long, smooth glide. The tight, velvety heat of her pussy swallowing every thick inch—even through the latex—drew deep, guttural moans from both of you. Sophia bottomed out with a broken cry, her walls fluttering and pulsing around your girth as she adjusted.
“God… you’re so big,” she breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Fills me so perfectly.”
She started moving—slow, deep rolls of her hips at first, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every downward stroke. The car filled with the slick sounds of her riding you, the faint creak of leather, and her breathy moans. You tugged the neckline of her dress down, freeing her full breasts. They bounced beautifully with every movement, nipples dark and hard. You latched onto one, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while your other hand slid up to wrap loosely around her throat—just enough pressure to make her eyes flutter.
“Faster, baby,” you urged, thrusting up to meet her. “Ride me like you own this cock.”
Sophia obeyed, bouncing harder, taking you deeper. The car began to rock steadily with her rhythm. Windows fogged up quickly, trapping the heat and the scent of sex inside. Her nails dug into your shoulders, leaving little crescents through your shirt as she chased her pleasure.
Then—headlights swept across the street.
A car turned slowly into the quiet road. The beams cut through the shadows and washed over your parked vehicle, illuminating the fogged glass and the unmistakable rhythmic motion inside. Sophia froze mid-bounce, eyes wide with shock, her pussy clenching tight around you in panic.
“Fuck—someone’s coming,” she whispered, voice trembling with adrenaline and arousal.
Your heart hammered. The risk sent a fresh surge of heat through you. Instead of stopping, you gripped her ass with both hands and kept fucking up into her—deep, controlled strokes that ground against her g-spot. “Don’t stop,” you growled against her ear, biting the lobe. “Keep bouncing on my cock. Let them see what a needy little slut you are for me.”
The thrill hit her like lightning. A shaky, broken moan escaped her lips as she started moving again—faster, sloppier, driven by the danger. The other car slowed almost to a stop right beside you for a heart-stopping second. Long enough for both of you to imagine eyes peering through the fogged windows, catching glimpses of her bouncing tits and your cock disappearing inside her. Sophia’s walls fluttered wildly around you.
Then the car finally continued past. The moment the taillights faded, Sophia cried out and slammed down harder, riding you with wild, desperate abandon. “That was so close—fuck, I almost came just from the thought of them watching.”
You flipped her suddenly, maneuvering her onto her back across the seat as best the cramped space allowed. One of her long legs hooked over the console, the other pressed up against the dashboard, spreading her wide open. The new angle let you drive into her with powerful, relentless thrusts. The condom kept everything slick and safe while you railed her deep, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and obscene.
You reached between you, rubbing her clit in fast, firm circles. “Come for me, Soph. Come all over my cock while the windows are still fogged from how hard I’m fucking you.”
She shattered spectacularly. Her back arched off the seat, thighs shaking violently as her orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy clenched and pulsed around your thickness in rhythmic waves, gushing wetness that soaked the condom and your lap. She moaned your name loud and wrecked, nails raking down your back.
You fucked her through every pulse, chasing your own release. The pressure built fast—balls tightening, cock swelling inside the tight latex. “Gonna fill this condom so deep inside you,” you groaned, burying yourself to the hilt. You came hard, pulsing in thick, powerful ropes that stretched the rubber as you emptied yourself completely. Sophia whimpered at the feeling, milking you with sweet aftershocks.
You stayed buried inside her for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, sharing ragged breaths and lazy, affectionate kisses. Soft giggles bubbled up between you as the adrenaline slowly faded.
“Think they saw anything?” she asked breathlessly, tracing your jaw with gentle fingers. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, hair beautifully messy.
“Maybe,” you murmured, kissing her again. “But you loved it.”
Sophia smiled, wicked and satisfied. “I did. A lot.” She shifted slightly, still impaled on you, and kissed you deeper. “Take me home. I want you to bend me over the bed, put on another condom, and fuck me until I can’t walk straight. Maybe we’ll leave the curtains open this time.”
You chuckled, carefully pulling out and tying off the heavy, used condom. Sophia fixed her dress but left her panties pushed aside, a teasing promise for later. You started the car, heart still racing, cock already showing signs of life again at the thought of round two.
The restaurant had been loud with Friday night energy, but Lara made it feel like the two of you were the only people there. She sat across from you in a sleek black top that showed off the delicate gold Om necklace she never took off, her dark hair falling in perfect waves. At twenty, she was already KATSEYE’s spark — confident on stage, quick with a laugh, and unapologetically proud of her Tamil roots. She’d spent half the meal asking genuine questions about the backend system you’d been optimizing for your thesis, eyes lighting up when you got deep into the technical details.
Now, back at her apartment, the city hum filtered softly through the windows. Lara kicked off her heels and pulled you close by the front of your hoodie, kissing you like she’d been waiting all night.
“You’re so damn cute when you explain things,” she murmured against your lips, smiling. “Most people’s eyes glaze over, but you light up. I love that about you.”
Your cheeks warmed. You were still getting used to this — the girl everyone wanted choosing the quiet comp-sci senior who spent more time in the lab than at parties. “It’s nothing special, Lara. Just code.”
“It’s you,” she corrected, tugging your hoodie over your head. Her hands skimmed down your chest, familiar and warm. “And I’ve been thinking about you inside me since dessert.”
She guided you to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. When she dropped to her knees on the soft rug, you leaned against the dresser, heart racing. Lara looked up at you with those expressive eyes, full lips parting as she freed your cock. It was already heavy and thick, curving slightly, the head flushed.
“Missed this,” she whispered, licking a slow stripe up the underside before taking you into her mouth. Wet heat enveloped you. She sucked with purpose — not rushed, but hungry — cheeks hollowing, one hand stroking what she couldn’t fit. Soft gagging sounds mixed with her hums of pleasure. Her free hand cupped your balls gently, massaging as she bobbed deeper.
“Fuck… Lara,” you breathed, fingers threading carefully through her hair. You didn’t pull or thrust hard; you let her set the pace, hips twitching only when she took you especially deep. She pulled off with a gasp, spit shining on her chin and your shaft.
“Bed,” she said, voice husky. “I need you.”
You followed her onto the mattress. She lay back, legs parting, her pussy already slick and swollen. You settled between her thighs and pushed in slowly, groaning at the tight, velvety grip. Inch by inch until your hips met hers.
Lara let out a long, satisfied moan, nails digging into your shoulders. “God, yes. You fill me so perfectly every time. So thick… stretches me just right.”
You started moving in steady, deep strokes — the rhythm you knew made her toes curl. Not frantic, but intentional, grinding against her clit on every forward motion. Sweat started to build between you. Lara was vocal, always had been, and tonight she didn’t hold back.
“Feels so good, baby,” she panted, legs wrapping around your waist. “You pay attention to what I like. Jake never did. He’d just chase his own finish and leave me frustrated. But you… you make me cum every single time. I think about this during rehearsals sometimes — get wet in the middle of choreography.”
The praise hit deep. You buried your face in her neck, kissing along her collarbone, sucking lightly at the skin. The wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies filled the room — intimate and obscene. Her pussy fluttered around you, slick sounds growing louder as she got wetter.
Her phone lit up on the nightstand. Once. Twice. Then it started ringing.
Lara glanced over, annoyance flickering before something hotter took over. “It’s Jake. He cornered me outside the restaurant earlier, talking shit about you being ‘just some nerd.’”
You slowed but kept moving inside her, cock throbbing. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” She grabbed the phone, swiped accept, and put it on speaker. She set it beside her head on the pillow. “What do you want, Jake?”
His voice came through loud and irritated. “Lara, come on. I saw you with that girl again. The quiet one with the hoodie. You’re really doing this? You’re a star now — traveling the world, performing. What the hell are you doing with some nobody coder?”
Lara’s breath hitched as you picked up the pace slightly, angling to hit that sensitive spot inside her. Her hand gripped your arm, encouraging.
“She’s not a nobody,” Lara said, voice steady but edged with arousal. “She’s brilliant. Built systems the engineering department still uses. She listens to me. Actually cares. And the way she fucks me?” Lara moaned softly as you thrust deeper. “You have no idea, Jake. She’s so thick and she knows exactly how to use it. Hits every spot. Makes me cum until my legs shake.”
Jake sputtered. “You’re fucking with me right now.”
You kept the rhythm consistent — deep, rolling strokes that made her tits bounce gently. Lara’s free hand slid down to rub her clit in tight circles.
“Hear that?” she gasped. The slick, wet sounds of your cock pumping into her soaked pussy were unmistakable over the line. “She’s buried inside me right now. Balls deep. Stretching me open. I’m dripping down my thighs already.”
“Jesus, Lara — this is messed up,” Jake growled, but he didn’t hang up.
Lara’s eyes locked on yours, dark and full of heat. She spoke louder, breathy. “She’s better than you in every way. Smarter. Patient. She takes her time and still wrecks me. I’m letting her breed me tonight, Jake. She fills me up so much it leaks out for hours. I love feeling full of her cum. Love knowing I chose this over whatever quick, selfish shit you used to give me.”
You leaned down, kissing her deeply, tongue sliding against hers while your hips kept working. The praise, the filth, the risk — it was getting to you. Your thrusts grew a little harder, more urgent, but still controlled.
Lara broke the kiss with a whine. “Right there, baby — fuck, yes. I’m close.” Then to the phone: “She’s gonna cum inside me. Pump me full. Maybe twice tonight. You could never do that. Never made me feel owned and satisfied like she does.”
Her words pushed you over. You groaned low against her shoulder as your orgasm hit — thick, heavy ropes of cum flooding deep into her. Lara followed seconds later, pussy clenching rhythmically around you, a loud, beautiful moan tearing from her throat as she shook.
For a moment there was only heavy breathing and the wet sound of you slowly rocking through the aftershocks, pushing your load deeper.
“Fucking sick,” Jake muttered, clearly rattled, and hung up.
Lara tossed the phone aside and pulled you into another messy kiss, smiling against your mouth. “You okay?” she whispered, stroking your back. “I know the ex stuff can get in your head.”
“Yeah,” you murmured, still buried inside her warmth. “Just… you’re really something else.”
She clenched around you playfully. “Only for you.” After a few minutes of lazy kissing, you felt yourself hardening again. Lara noticed and grinned. “Good. Flip me over.”
You pulled out carefully, a thick trickle of cum following. She got on her hands and knees, arching her back beautifully, ass up. You pushed back in with a smooth glide through the mess, both of you moaning at the slick heat.
“God, that’s filthy,” Lara breathed, pushing back to meet your thrusts. “I can feel how full you made me. Love it. Love when you breed me like this.”
You gripped her hips, fucking her with steady, deep strokes. She kept talking, voice muffled slightly by the pillow but still clear and eager.
“I meant every word. You’re my favorite person. The one who sees me as more than the performer. And this cock — fuck — it ruins me in the best way. I want you to fill me again. Want to wake up leaking you tomorrow when I have that early rehearsal.”
The combination of her words, the creamy mess, and her tight heat had you close again fast. You reached around to rub her clit, pressing your chest to her back.
“Lara…” you groaned.
“Do it, baby. Cum in me. Give me another load.”
You did — burying deep and pumping her full again with a quiet, shaky groan. Lara came with you, walls milking every drop. You stayed inside, spooning her on your sides, cock nestled deep as you both caught your breath.
She reached back, stroking your thigh. “I love you. My brilliant nerd. Don’t ever doubt that you’re exactly what I want.”
You kissed her shoulder, hand resting possessively over her lower belly. “Love you too.”
Later, after a slow third round where she rode you lazily, talking you through it with soft praises and filthy promises, the sheets were thoroughly ruined. Lara padded to the kitchen in just your hoodie, a slight waddle in her step and a satisfied glow on her face. Every so often she’d shift and smirk, feeling another trickle of your cum slip out.
Jake didn’t call back.
You pulled her onto your lap on the couch instead, coffee forgotten, and let the night stretch on exactly how you both liked it — real, messy, and completely yours.
Do you mind doing a ceo Lara x assistant shy g!p reader going on a honeymoon and just having sex anyway like in their room and on the beach just reader being so down bad for Lara
Title: Honeymoon Tides
Pairing: CEO Lara Raj x Shy G!P Wife!Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), g!p reader, married sex, semi-public sex (private beach), creampies, oral sex, light power dynamic, lots of affection and horniness, no plot just vibes.
The private villa sat perched on the edge of the island, all glass and warm wood opening straight onto the beach. Lara Raj stepped out of the arriving car with that effortless poise she carried everywhere—long dark hair loose and wavy from the salt air, catching the last of the sunset. She was twenty, but she moved like someone who’d already built an empire. Raj Innovations had started as her side project blending tech and entertainment; now it was a powerhouse, and she was the face and force behind it. The white linen sundress skimmed her body, highlighting the dancer’s tone in her legs and the soft curve of her hips. A delicate bindi rested on her forehead, her Om necklace nestled between her full breasts, and thin gold bangles chimed quietly at her wrist.
You followed a step behind, luggage in hand, still half-convinced this was some fever dream. Her once-shy assistant. Now her wife. The ring on your finger still felt new, surreal.
Lara glanced back, catching the way your eyes lingered on her. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “You okay back there?”
“Yeah,” you managed, voice a little rough. “Just… taking it in.”
Inside, the door had barely shut before she turned, backing you gently against the wall. Her fingers brushed your jaw. “You’ve been quiet since we landed. Talk to me.”
You swallowed, heat rising fast under her gaze. Your body had zero subtlety around her—your cock already thickening against the fabric of your shorts. “It’s you. All of this. I still can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
Lara’s eyes softened, but the hunger was there too. She leaned in, kissing you slow and deep, tasting like the champagne from the plane. Her hand slid down, palming you through your shorts. “You do have me,” she murmured against your mouth. “Every part. And right now, I want you.”
Clothes came off in a quiet rush. Hers first—dress slipping to the floor, revealing smooth golden-brown skin, dark nipples already tight, the neat trim of her pussy glistening. You stripped too, cock springing free, heavy and flushed. Lara wrapped her fingers around you, stroking with a firm, familiar rhythm that made your breath hitch.
“Bed,” she said simply.
You lay back and she followed, straddling your hips. She took her time at first, rubbing herself along your length, coating you in her slick heat. When she finally sank down, taking every inch, the moan she let out was low and real. “God… you feel good.”
So did she—tight, wet, perfect. You gripped her hips as she started moving, rolling in that fluid way only she could manage. Her hair fell around you like a curtain, bangles tinkling softly with each thrust. You sat up to meet her, mouth on her neck, her collarbone, then her breast, sucking lightly until she shivered.
“Like that,” she breathed, one hand in your hair. No theatrics, just honest need. Her pace quickened, hips snapping harder, and you thrust up to match her. When she came, it was with a quiet, shuddering gasp, clenching around you so tight you followed right after, spilling deep inside her.
You stayed like that for a minute, foreheads pressed together, catching your breath. Then Lara laughed softly, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We’re not even unpacked yet.”
“Worth it,” you whispered.
The beach stretched empty under the moon, waves whispering against the sand. Dinner had been long and slow—her foot teasing your calf under the table, your hand lingering on her thigh. Now you walked along the waterline until neither of you could wait anymore.
Lara turned into you, kissing you with salt on her lips. “Here,” she said, voice husky. She dropped her dress to the sand and went to her hands and knees, looking back at you over her shoulder. The sight hit you like a wave—her back arched, ass up, hair spilling down, moonlight catching on the curve of her waist.
You knelt behind her, running your hands over her skin before guiding yourself in. She pushed back to meet you, taking you in one smooth motion. “Fuck… yes.”
The rhythm built naturally—deep, steady strokes that made her moan into the night. You reached around to touch her, fingers circling her clit the way she liked, and she tightened around you almost immediately.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped. Her voice cracked on the next thrust, and she came hard, trembling, pushing back against you until you followed, filling her again with a low groan.
After, you pulled her down into the sand with you, both of you laughing breathlessly as the waves licked at your feet. Sand stuck everywhere, but she didn’t seem to care. She curled into your side, tracing idle patterns on your chest.
“You’re insatiable,” she said, amused.
“Can you blame me?” You kissed her temple. “Look at you.”
Lara smiled against your skin. “I like it. I like how much you want me.”
Back at the villa, the outdoor shower beckoned. Steam rose as hot water cascaded over both of you. You dropped to your knees without a word, spreading her thighs and tasting her—your cum mixed with her own arousal. Lara’s hand tightened in your wet hair, guiding you gently as her hips rocked against your tongue.
“Right there,” she murmured, voice breaking into a soft moan when you sucked on her clit. She came again, thighs shaking, and pulled you up for a messy kiss.
Then she turned, bracing her hands on the stone wall, ass tilted toward you. You slid back inside her from behind, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand between her legs. Slow this time, grinding deep, savoring every sound she made. The ocean breeze cooled the water on your skin while you moved together until you both finished again, clinging tight.
In bed later, the glass doors open to the night air, you lay tangled up with her. Your face rested between her breasts, her fingers carding gently through your hair. The Om necklace was cool against your cheek.
“Never thought I’d get this,” you admitted quietly. “Not with someone like you.”
Lara tilted your chin up so you could see her eyes. “Someone like me?” She smiled, soft and real. “You’re the only one who ever saw all of me—the work, the pressure, the girl who still gets nervous before big pitches. I chose you. I love you.”
You kissed her, slow and deep, and felt yourself stirring again against her thigh. She noticed, of course.
“Already?” There was laughter in her voice, but also heat.
You shrugged, a little sheepish. “It’s you.”
She rolled you onto your back and straddled you again, sinking down with a shared sigh. This time it was lazy, unhurried—her riding you with long, rolling movements, your hands exploring every curve. No rush. Just the two of you, connected, breathing each other in.
When you came together this time, it was quiet and intense, her forehead pressed to yours.
Morning light filtered through the glass. Lara stood on the balcony in one of your button-downs, open just enough to tease, sipping coffee. Her hair was tousled, bindi fresh, looking every bit the woman who ran an empire and still made time to love you like this.
You came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist. Your morning hardness nestled against her ass.
“Morning,” you said, kissing her shoulder.
She leaned back into you. “Morning.” Her hand reached back, stroking you lightly. “Sleep okay?”
“Best sleep I’ve had in months.” You cupped her breast through the shirt, thumb brushing her nipple. “You?”
“Same.” She turned in your arms, kissing you properly. Then she sank to her knees on the balcony tiles, looking up at you with those dark, expressive eyes as she took you into her mouth.
The wet heat, the sight of her—confident, powerful Lara Raj on her knees for you—nearly undid you right away. You gripped the railing, watching her work you with slow, deliberate suction, her bangles chiming softly. When you warned her you were close, she didn’t pull away. She took everything, then rose to kiss you, sharing the taste.
The rest of the day stretched out in front of you—beach, pool, bed, her. No schedules. No meetings. Just this.
You pulled her close again. “I’m never going to get enough of you.”
Lara smiled against your lips. “Good. Because I feel the same.”
May I request a Sophia × G!P reader with heavy breeding and size kink? Thank you.
Title: Stretched & Flooded
Pairing: Sophia Laforteza × G!P Reader
Warnings: Explicit 18+ smut • Heavy size kink • Extremely filthy breeding kink • Multiple creampies • Rough sex, degradation & dirty talk • Mating press, belly bulge, deep penetration • Deepthroat & messy oral • Overstimulation, squirting, cum play
You push open the door to Sophia’s apartment, the faint bass from a distant city street vibrating through the walls. It’s late, the kind of hour where the world feels suspended. She’s waiting in the living room, bathed in the warm glow of a single lamp, wearing nothing but a loose white tank top that clings to her sweat-damp golden-brown skin and a pair of black panties already shoved down to mid-thigh. At 5’6” with that tight, lean dancer’s body—long, toned legs from years of training, a narrow waist flaring into hips that sway with every movement, perky tits with dark nipples visible through the thin fabric—she looks like pure sin.
Her long, wavy black hair is messy, falling over one shoulder. Those sharp brown eyes lock onto you the second you step inside, full lips curving into a hungry smirk. She’s 23, but right now she looks like she’s been aching for hours.
“Finally,” Sophia says, voice low and rough, no bullshit greeting. She crosses the room in a few strides, bare feet silent on the hardwood. Her hands grab your shirt, yanking you down into a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth from the start. Wet, sloppy, desperate. She tastes like mint and something sweeter, and she moans into your mouth as your hands slide down to grip her ass, squeezing the firm flesh.
You walk her backward until her back hits the wall. She grinds against the thick bulge in your pants immediately, rolling her hips like she can’t wait another second.
“Feel that?” you mutter against her neck, biting down. “Been hard thinking about this pussy all day.”
Sophia laughs breathlessly, a throaty sound. “Good. Because I’ve been dripping since soundcheck. Get these fucking pants off.”
You don’t need telling twice. She drops to her knees right there in the hallway, fingers working your belt and zipper with practiced urgency. The second your cock springs free—heavy, thick, veined, the fat head already shiny with precum—her eyes darken. Both her hands wrap around the base, and still there’s room left. She strokes slowly, admiring the way it throbs in her grip.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, almost reverent. “This big fucking dick. Every time I see it I wonder how the hell it fits.” She leans in and drags her tongue from your balls all the way up the underside, slow and filthy, then swirls it around the head, tasting the precum leaking steadily. “Mmm. Salty. Want more.”
She takes you into her mouth without warning, lips stretching obscenely wide around your girth. The wet heat is immediate, her tongue pressing flat as she sinks down, gagging softly when you hit the back of her throat. Sophia doesn’t pull back. She pushes further, eyes watering, throat convulsing around you as spit starts dripping down her chin and onto her tank top, making the fabric translucent over her hard nipples.
You groan, threading fingers through her black hair, guiding her but letting her set the nasty rhythm. She bobs deep, sloppy sounds filling the hallway—gluck, gluck, wet choking noises as she forces more of your cock down her throat. Her hands work what she can’t swallow, twisting and stroking, while she looks up at you with those glassy brown eyes, mascara already smudging.
“Fuck, Soph,” you rasp. “Sucking it like you were born for this.”
She pulls off with a gasp, strings of thick spit connecting her swollen lips to your glistening shaft. “I was. This cock ruins me every time and I still come back begging for more.” She spits on it again, messy and loud, then dives back in, deepthroating with renewed hunger until her nose presses against your pelvis and she holds there, throat milking you.
You have to pull her off before you lose it too soon. She stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, lips shiny and puffy. You rip the tank top over her head, exposing her golden skin, those perky tits, the faint definition of abs from her relentless dance training. You shove her panties the rest of the way down and she kicks them off.
“Bedroom. Now,” you growl.
She doesn’t make it easy. You lift her, her legs wrapping around your waist, and carry her while she grinds her soaked pussy against your cock, coating it in her slick. By the time you drop her on the bed she’s panting, thighs glistening.
You spread her legs wide. Her pussy is pretty and puffy, dark outer lips flushed, inner folds slick and shiny, clit swollen and peeking out. You drag the fat head of your cock through her folds, slapping it against her clit a few times until she whines and bucks.
“Stop fucking teasing,” Sophia hisses, reaching down to try and pull you in. “I need it deep. Stretch me out.”
You push in—slow but relentless. The first few inches make her gasp, walls fluttering and stretching around your thickness. Inch by inch you sink deeper, watching her belly distend slightly with the bulge of your cock. Halfway in and she’s already gripping the sheets, moaning low and broken.
“Fuuuuck—yes. So big. Splitting me open like a whore.”
You bottom out, balls pressed against her ass, the head kissing her cervix. The bulge in her lower abdomen is obvious now, a clear outline of your cock under her golden skin. You give her a second, then start thrusting—deep, heavy strokes that make her tits bounce and the bed creak.
The sounds are filthy: wet squelching every time you drive in, her pussy gripping you like a vice, juices coating your shaft and dripping down to soak the sheets. You hook her legs over your shoulders, folding her smaller body in half, and pound harder. The new angle lets you grind right against that spot inside her.
Sophia’s head thrashes, long black hair everywhere. “Right there—shit, you’re so deep I can feel you in my stomach. Fuck me harder. Ruin this cunt.”
You do. You slam into her, skin slapping skin, sweat starting to slick both your bodies. Her pussy creams around you, white ring forming at the base of your cock with every pull out. You reach between you and rub her clit fast, thumb pressing firm circles.
She cums suddenly, violently—back arching, walls clamping down so tight it almost hurts, a gush of slick flooding out around your thrusting cock. “Oh my god—fuck, I’m cumming—don’t stop!”
You fuck her through it, relentless, chasing your own release. “Gonna fill you up. Breed this greedy pussy. Pump you so full you’ll be leaking my cum for days.”
“Do it,” she gasps, still shaking. “Knock me up. I want it. Want your thick load deep in my womb.”
You bury yourself to the hilt and cum hard—thick, heavy ropes shooting straight against her cervix, pulse after pulse until her belly feels even fuller. It overflows immediately, creamy white cum leaking out around your cock despite how tightly she’s stretched. You keep grinding slow, pushing it deeper.
But you’re not done. Not even close.
You pull out with a wet pop, watching the mess drip from her gaping pussy. Sophia’s chest heaves, eyes half-lidded in bliss. You flip her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up so she’s ass up, face down. Her ass is perfect—round, firm from dancing, golden skin marked faintly by your gripping fingers already.
You slap your cum-smeared cock against her ass, then push back in. This time it’s easier, her pussy sloppy and open from the first load. You start fucking her hard again, hips snapping, balls slapping her clit.
“Again?” she moans into the pillow, pushing back to meet you. “God yes. Use me. This pussy’s yours to breed.”
You grab her hair, pulling her head back gently but firmly so you can lean over her, biting her shoulder. “That’s right. Gonna keep this cunt stuffed full of my cum all night. Walk around tomorrow feeling it slosh inside you while you rehearse.”
The dirty talk makes her clench harder. You reach under and rub her clit again, and she cums a second time, screaming into the sheets, pussy gushing around you. You don’t slow down, pounding through her orgasm until you fill her again—another massive load mixing with the first, pushing out in creamy rivulets down her thighs.
You collapse beside her for a moment, both of you breathing hard. Sophia turns, crawling over you with a wicked grin. Her hair is wild, skin flushed, lips swollen. She straddles your hips, reaching down to stroke your still-hard cock, slick with both your messes.
“My turn to ride this monster,” she says, voice hoarse but eager.
She sinks down slowly, savoring every inch. Her head falls back, mouth open in a silent moan as she bottoms out, the bulge reappearing in her belly. She places one hand over it, pressing down as she starts rolling her hips.
“Fuck, I love how full you make me,” she whispers, starting to bounce. The wet sounds are even louder now, cum and slick squelching obscenely with every drop. Her tits bounce perfectly, nipples begging for attention. You sit up, sucking one into your mouth, biting and licking while your hands grip her ass, helping her ride harder.
Sophia rides like she dances—fluid, powerful, relentless. She grinds deep, then lifts almost all the way off before slamming back down, taking every thick inch. Sweat beads on her golden skin, dripping between her breasts. You slap her ass, the sound sharp, and she moans louder.
“Harder,” you tell her. “Fuck yourself on it like the slut you are for this dick.”
She does, bouncing faster, thighs burning but she doesn’t care. Her pussy flutters and creams, another orgasm building. You thumb her clit and she shatters again, grinding down hard as she cums, milking your cock with rhythmic spasms.
You flip her again, this time missionary but with her legs pushed back until her knees are by her ears. The mating press. You drive in deep, using your weight to pin her, fucking with short, brutal thrusts that batter her cervix.
“Gonna breed you proper like this,” you growl against her neck. “Fill you until it takes. Want you swollen with my kid, tits leaking, still begging for more cock.”
Sophia’s nails rake down your back. “Yes—fuck yes. Breed me. I’m your cumdump tonight. Pump it all in.”
You lose count of how many times you cum inside her. The third load, the fourth—each one messier than the last. Her pussy is wrecked, puffy and red, constantly leaking thick white cum that you push back in with your fingers or your cock. At one point you pull out and make her taste the mix, feeding her your cum-covered fingers while she sucks them clean.
Later, you take her against the wall, her back to your chest, one leg hooked over your arm as you thrust up into her. Gravity makes the cum drip down even more. She cums again, squirting slightly, adding to the mess on the floor.
By the time you both collapse onto the soaked sheets, hours have passed. Sophia is a wreck—hair tangled, body covered in bite marks and fingerprints, thighs shiny with drying cum, pussy gaping and overflowing. But she’s smiling, lazy and satisfied, tracing the fading bulge on her stomach with one finger.
You stay inside her, soft now but still thick enough to plug most of the load in. She clenches around you playfully.
“Round… whatever the fuck this is?” she murmurs, kissing your jaw. “I can still feel you throbbing a little. Don’t pull out. Keep me full.”
You chuckle, rolling so she’s draped over you, still connected. “Greedy.”
“You made me this way,” she replies, nipping your collarbone. Her voice drops lower, filthy again. “Next time I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t talk, then breed me again in the shower so it all washes down my legs. Then maybe bend me over the kitchen counter before I have to leave for practice. I want to feel you leaking out of me the whole day.”
Your cock twitches inside her at the words. She feels it and laughs softly, grinding once.
The night stretches on with more slow, lazy fucking—nasty, intimate, bodies sliding together slick with sweat and cum. You eat her out at one point, tasting the mix of both of you, tongue fucking deep while she grinds on your face and cums again. Then she sucks you clean, savoring every drop.
By the early hours, the room smells like sex—musky, sweet, filthy. Sophia curls against you, one leg thrown over yours, your hand possessively cupping her cum-filled pussy.
“Stay inside me while we sleep,” she whispers, already drifting. “Want to wake up feeling owned.”
You kiss her messy hair and stay right where you are, thick cock nestled deep in her bred cunt. The city outside keeps moving, but in here it’s just the two of you, raw and spent and already thinking about the next round.
⟢ an. tried my best about the skating terminologies
requests are open ﾟ ˖
The public loves a good narrative, and in pro-skating, they cast you as the villain. It is a bit of a stretch, honestly. You’re not hostile; you are just intensely passionate, competitive, and entirely unapologetic about it. Still, sometimes you wonder if people see past the facade, and the whispers about being 'the bad guy' can linger longer than you'd ever admit.
You remember once, after a particularly heated semi-final, overhearing a group of younger skaters at the edge of the park, their voices low but sharp.
"That's the one people warned us about," one muttered, their eyes darting away when you caught their glance.
The words stung more than you expected, especially in the quiet that followed once the crowd faded. That night, lying awake, you wondered whether every fierce comeback or frustrated glare was just adding bricks to a wall that might end up boxing you in completely.
And then there's Lara.
Lara is the absolute opposite of your world: gentle, soft-spoken, and grounded. To the media, you two make no sense. But to the two of you, it makes perfect sense. With her, you feel seen in a way you never do on the ramp or in front of the crowd, like when she instinctively knows how to calm you after a rough meet, just by slipping her hand into yours and giving you a look that says,
I get it.
Sometimes, you catch her watching you skate, a small, proud smile tugging at her lips, and later she'll say she admires how fiercely you fight for every trick and moment. For all your rough edges, Lara always insists she fell for the person behind the reputation, not because of it. Around her, the noise fades, and you remember there is more to you than just the persona everyone thinks they know.
Lara loves to dress up when she goes to your competitions. She always argues that since the cameras are on her, she might as well look sensational. You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite.
When you’re competing, you're usually dressed in heavily distressed jeans, worn thin and frayed from repeated falls on the concrete, paired with a set of beat-up Vans and an old, oversized hand-me-down t-shirt from your dad. It’s become something of a running joke between you two— on the mornings of competitions, Lara will eye your outfit with mock horror, saying, "You know you own shirts without holes, right?"
You always grin and reply, "Yeah, but how else would they know I work hard?" She’ll laugh and promise, "One day, I’m going to stitch a flower onto that t-shirt just to see if you even notice." You tell her, "If you do, you’ll have to skate for me," which only makes her snort. Your differences in style have turned into playful banter, both of you secretly loving the contrast of your looks when you stand side by side.
Despite her love for fashion, Lara has a notorious habit of stealing your worn-out clothes.
One afternoon, your friends text you about a random skate park they’ve just discovered, sending you into a frantic rush to get out the door. You tear through your closet, desperately searching for one of your absolute favorite vintage tees to skate in, but you come up entirely empty-handed. Defeated, you send a quick text to your girlfriend:
Y/N
Lara, have you seen my Tony Hawk tee???
Lara
Idk babe, sounds familiar tho 🤔
Y/N
Okay baby, but if you happen to find it please let me know. It’s literally one of my favorites
Lara
[Attachment: 1 Image]
You open the picture to find Lara sitting comfortably on your bed, wearing the exact oversized, faded graphic tee you've been looking for, giving the camera a sweet, innocent smile.
Y/N
Baby… you look amazing. But isn't that literally the shirt I'm looking for?
Lara
Oh, is it? Huh. Weird.
You can’t help but chuckle at her silliness, the initial frustration of losing your shirt completely melting away.
Lara always calls your first meeting a "meet-cute," and for all your tough exterior, you completely agree. It happened back at Venice Beach, where golden sunlight shimmered on the water and the air buzzed with the slap of wheels against concrete, shouts, and laughter.
You were running through your usual, mundane skate routine, catching air with the wind stinging your face and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Then, in a blink, your momentum carried you straight into someone. The impact sent a sharp jolt through your body, your board scraping noisily on the pavement and a dissonant clang echoing around you as bodies collided.
For a split second, you caught the salty tang of sweat and sunscreen, heard the distant crash of waves against the pier. All you registered was the sudden burst of heat where her arm bumped yours, the soft rustle of fabric, and the muffled gasp of surprise. The contact seemed to freeze time, the noise of the world dropping away until only the aftermath of the collision remained— breathless, bright, and oddly electric.
Looking up to apologize, you were met with a pair of oversized sunglasses and a warm, amused smile. Even behind the shades, Lara’s energy instantly defused your usual defensive walls. You apologized genuinely; she laughed it off, and just like that, the skater and the sweetheart clicked.
When the public finally found out about the two of you, the internet did exactly what the internet does. Almost immediately, countless clips from your past competitions resurfaced online.
Suddenly, countless clips from your past competitions resurfaced online. TikTok was flooded with fan-made edits that showcased the contrast in your life. The videos almost always followed the exact same formula: it would start with a footage of you at some skate yard— smashing your board in pure frustration or fiercely staring down a competitor— before suddenly transitioning into a soft, clip of you completely melting for Lara.
The contrast was staggering. One second you looked ready to fight the concrete, and the next, you were willingly carrying her designer bags, looking down at her with literal puppy-dog eyes.
Naturally, the edits didn't stay hidden in the algorithm for long. Soon, both Lara’s friends and your own group of friends flooded your group chats with the links, using them to constantly tease you about being totally whipped. You tried to defend your reputation, but it was a losing battle, especially since Lara didn't help your case at all, openly admitting she found the edits absolutely sweet.
“But look, babe , you look so cute here.”
As much as you wanted to roll your eyes at all the teasing, you could never completely hide the way your chest warmed each time you saw how happy those videos made her. There was something unexpectedly nice about letting your guard down and seeing yourself through her eyes, even if it meant everyone else got a good laugh out of it.
Summery: The heat in the apartment is stifling, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating tension simmering between you and Wanda. Trapped in a mid-summer slump and desperate for an escape, you decide to test the waters of a dangerous, flirtatious game. What starts as a shared moment of boredom quickly spirals into a raw, unfiltered exploration of desire, testing boundaries you both previously thought were set in stone. As the afternoon air grows heavy and stagnant, Wanda decides it’s time to stop ignoring the obvious, pulling you into a reclamation of intimacy that is as possessive as it is transformative.
Warnings: Intersex reader, butch/femme dynamics, sexual tension, power dynamics, explicit sexual content, shower sex, slight emotional dominance, submissive tendencies in an otherwise butch partner (we love submissive butches!), genital focus.
The fan in the corner is on its highest setting, churning warm air in lazy, pointless loops. Wanda’s skin feels slick. The thin cotton shorts she’s wearing have twisted around her hips, so she tugs at the fabric where it clings to the small of her back. A bead of sweat trails down between her breasts, following that gentle curve, and she swipes it away with her hand. You’re draped over the couch, one leg hooked over the armrest, thumb barely moving as you scroll through your phone. Your shirt is rolled up behind your head as a makeshift pillow, and the late afternoon sun slices through the blinds, making the sheen on your chest shimmer. Wanda has been pretending not to watch your stomach rise and fall with every breath, pretending not as successfully as she wishes, admittedly.
“I swear she did this on purpose,” Wanda groans, dropping her head back against the granite counter. The stone is cool against her bare shoulders, one of the few reliefs this place still offers. “The AC panel, the lock, the timing. All of it.”
You don’t even look up. “She’s creative, I’ll give her that.”
“She’s a nightmare,” she snaps. “A heat wave with a grudge.” She rakes her fingers through her damp hair and lifts it off her neck so the fan’s weak breeze can reach the sweat there. “My brain is literally cooking in my skull.”
The ice maker clinks more cubes down the chute. Outside, a car alarm wails and then stops. Through the kitchen window, the neighbour’s pool glints invitingly. They’re out of town this week. You joked about sneaking in earlier, but the padlock on the fence made the risk feel too real when you were both upright and coherent.
“Remember when it was just boring?” She tilts her head to look at you upside down from where she’s leaning on the island. “Before it was hot and boring?”
“Vaguely,” you admit. Your thumb stops. You’re staring at the ceiling now, phone resting on your chest.
Wanda pushes herself up onto the counter, the granite cool against the backs of her thighs, and crosses her ankles so her feet dangle. Her shorts pull tight across her hips, and she doesn’t bother to adjust them. “If I were alone right now,” she says, voice light like she’s discussing pizza toppings, “I’d have my ass in the freezer with a bag of peas.” Deadpan.
You laugh, slow and amused. “You’d last thirty seconds before whining about freezer burn.”
“Thirty-five,” she counters.
“Optimistic.”
“I’ve built resilience.”
“You cried because your iced coffee wasn’t cold enough yesterday.”
“I was making a point.”
“You were making a scene.”
Wanda can’t help grinning. Around you both, the apartment settles with creaks as the sun presses harder against the windows. Even the fan groans.
She dips a hand into the fruit bowl and fishes out one of the melting ice cubes she dumped there earlier. It’s half its original size. She presses it to the back of her neck, desperate to find some kind of relief from the heat.
“Oh…” She closes her eyes. “There it is.”
You watch, amused. The cube slips, tracing a cold line down between her shoulder blades before she loses her grip. It skitters beneath her tank top, against her skin, and she sighs as the cold seeps in. She doesn’t care that she’s probably going to end up looking like she just walked off a wet-T-shirt contest stage. She grabs another handful of cubes and presses them against the curve of her ribs. A soft moan escapes her.
“Wow. That good, huh? Maybe I should try.” You’re careful to keep your gaze above her neck.
“Honestly, it’s so good I take back the ass in the freezer plan. If I were alone, my hand wouldn’t be in the freezer, it’d be down my pants.”
Your thumb hovers over your phone. “What?”
“Too hot to move, too hot to think, too hot to do anything productive. If it were just me, I’d lie on my bed and get myself off. Pass the time. Cool down. Get some release.” She shrugs, watching your face.
The fan clicks. The freezer cycles. A bass-heavy car rolls by outside.
You push yourself up, moving to sit on the couch so you’re facing her. There’s something in your expression, seriousness, curiosity…and something else she can’t put her finger on. Yet. “You’re telling me this because…” You trail off, brow raised.
“Because I’m not alone,” she spreads her hands. “And neither are you. We’re both sweating through our clothes, trapped in an oven of an apartment with nothing to do and nowhere to go.” Her feet swing, heels tapping the cabinet beneath. “Getting off doesn’t have to be a solo sport.”
You sit up straighter. Your phone clatters onto the cushion. Your eyes roam over her face, pausing on her chest then landing to where her legs hang open, then back up. She allows her knees to fall open just a bit more, while holding back a smirk. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” She leans back on her palms, arching her chest so her damp tank clings to her curves. “You stroke yourself, I finger myself, and we both have something productive to do besides die of heatstroke.” She lets the words hang. “Or,” she adds, letting her voice soften into what hopefully sounds seductive, “we help each other. You know, if you’re into that idea.”
The ice maker drops another batch.
You stand, deliberately. She watches the muscles in your stomach flex as you walk toward her, stopping just a foot away, close enough to smell the salt on your skin, the faint scent of deodorant.
“Help each other,” you echo, your voice now sounding thicker than before.
“That’s what I said.” She uncrosses her ankles. Her left thigh brushes your hip, the heat of you sparking through her. “Your hands are right here,” she taps her own thigh, “and mine are right there. Seems a shame not to share.”
You reach out, fingers brushing her knee, thumb tracing a gentle circle. Your touch is warm yet still uncertain. She watches the movement in an almost distant way, noticing how her breath suddenly becomes shallow.
“You’ve been thinking about this,” you say. You look at her through half-closed eyes, not quite shy but guarded nonetheless. She can feel the conflict between your hesitation and your desire. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on more.
“Since the moment you took your shirt off,” she admits, eyes on your hand.
Wanda uncrosses her arms and takes a beat, letting anticipation lap at the silence before reaching for your wrist. Her fingers wrap easily around it. You're warm, almost feverish to the touch, and she feels the hidden stiffness of your pulse jumping against her palm. There's a faint sheen of sweat on your forearm, and the contact gives a static little crackle up her own skin. For a second, she just holds you there, measuring the distance between want and permission, and then she guides your hand up the length of her thigh.
The movement is slow, unhurried, like she's giving you a chance to second-guess her, to pull away if this is all just talk and no follow-through. But you don't. Your eyes pin to hers, now fully open, looking to make sure she’s not about to tell you that all of this is just a joke. She meets yours without hesitation, letting you see for yourself just how serious she truly is. Your palm floats over her knee and up the curve to bare skin, your fingers tracing the damp line where her shorts rode up and stuck there, then higher, over the slick, swollen skin, until your fingertips catch the hem. She puts her own hand over yours, both of you pressing, and the fabric gives easily. She can feel your knuckles, your fingers splayed across the thin cotton, and the pressure makes her gasp, sharper than she means to.
"See?" she says, but her voice is already gravelly, husked out by the sensation. "Not a solo activity."
You step in, closing the space between you, and suddenly there's nowhere to look but at you. You're tall enough that, even sitting on the island, her line of sight runs straight into your collarbone, dusted with freckles and glistening with sweat. Your chest is flushed, as is hers, and she becomes fully aware of every place your bodies are about to touch.
Your free hand travels up her waist and pauses at her ribs, thumb pressing on a strip of bare skin between her tank and her shorts. The pressure is proprietary but gentle, a kind of claim she didn't know she longed to feel. The other hand, the one she guided, is still resting right between her legs, index finger curling reflexively. She rocks forward, trying to get more friction, and you oblige by pressing in and up, the fabric yielding with a wet sound that seems to echo in the heat-locked stillness of the room.
Her hand is still on yours, guiding, but she's shaking a little, whether from adrenaline or want she can't tell. She sees your mouth tick up in a crooked smile and you let out a slow, long exhale.
"You're really—" you start, but she cuts you off.
"Yeah," she says. "Really." She arches her hips, dragging your finger along the seam, letting you feel exactly how wet she is. You steady yourself against the counter with one hand and use the other to rub small, insistent circles over the spot that makes her clench around nothing. Her head tips back involuntarily, pressing into the cold countertop, and she lets out a low, helpless sound that seems to vibrate up from the base of her spine.
You're watching her face, focused. When she opens her eyes, your gaze is all the way there, so intent it feels like electricity. Your hair has gone damp at the temples and your breath is picking up, ragged around the edges. There's a new kind of tension in your jaw, a held-backness that makes her want to push harder, to see what will happen if you stop holding back.
The hand at her hip slides lower, bunching the waistband of her shorts, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the elastic. You play with the fabric, rolling it between your fingers, and then you hook two fingers underneath and pull, just enough to expose the smallest band of skin. Her stomach tightens. She shifts her weight, opening her legs wider. The action is an invitation but also a dare.
Still, you wait. Frustratingly so. You look at her like you're waiting for something, permission, or maybe just to see if she'll lose her nerve. If she'll take it all back. She doesn't. She looks right at you, holds your gaze, and then reaches for the button on your jeans, popping it open with a practised flick of her thumb. The zipper drags down, loud and serrated, and she feels the flush rise up her neck.
Wanda reaches out and, guided by the familiar weight of your form against your boxers, she moves with intent. You’re already hard, so hard it almost surprises her, and the heat coming off your skin is intense, burning, desperate, like you’ve been holding this in since the first time you made eye contact. She strokes you, just enough to feel how much you want this, and you push into her hand with a low, choked groan.
She licks her lips as she thinks about getting down on her knees right here, the cold marble of the kitchen tiles against her legs, your hands in her hair. She wants to take you in her mouth and ruin you for the rest of the afternoon, but the heat is so suffocating, so omnipresent, that even the thought of kneeling is too much. Instead, she lets go and presses her forehead to your stomach, lips grazing the sharp ridge of muscle there, breathing in the salt and sun baked into your skin.
"Fuck," you say, almost softly, and it makes her smile. She likes hearing you unspool a little.
Your hand is still at the junction of her thighs, but now you use your knuckles, brushing them over the seam until you find the edge and slip beneath. Your touch is tentative at first, barely there, as if you're surprised at how easily you can slide your fingers inside. But when you feel how wet she is, how ready, you groan again, this time louder, and cup your palm over her, rubbing slow and steady.
She lets her legs dangle, heels thumping the cabinet, and then she hooks one foot around the back of your knee, pulling you closer. The move is greedy and obvious, but she doesn't care. It's too hot for games. She wants this, wants you, and she wants you to know.
You slide your fingers back and forth, learning the rhythm of her breath, her hips. When you get it right she gasps, biting her lower lip, and you press your thumb harder, circling until she nearly sobs with relief. Her hands clench the edge of the counter, white-knuckled, and she lets out a helpless, helpless sound.
Then she sees it, the flash of blue from the neighbor's pool, a glint through the slats in the blinds. The sight yanks her back to the first, more innocent idea she'd had for relief, and the bitterness of its inaccessibility is almost comical now, considering what's happening. The pool is closed to you both, locked behind a fence, but the thought of immersion, of being submerged, lingers at the edges of her brain. She wants to be drowned in sensation, in you.
She looks up at you, hair sticking to her cheeks, and she sees that you’re just as undone as she is, pupils blown wide, jaw rigid. For a split second, she chickens out and wants to say something clever, make it a joke, remind you both that it’s just heat and boredom, not some deeper thing. But the joke won’t come. Instead, she wants more. And she thinks you do too.
She slides off the counter, landing almost weightless on her feet, and presses herself against you. Her hands go to your hips, and she tugs your jeans down, letting them puddle around your ankles. You step out of them, not taking your eyes off her.
"Wait," she says, and you freeze, uncertainty flickering across your features for the first time. She runs her hands up your chest, thumb tracing the line between your pecs, and then she cups your jaw in both hands and kisses you. It's not delicate. It's not tentative. It's open-mouthed and wet and desperate and all the things she's been refusing herself since you broke up with her roommate six months ago. She pretended to like that you stayed friends after, but the truth is, she’s always wanted more. Thought you deserved better. She guesses thinking maybe you deserved… her.
You kiss her back, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her ass. You stagger backwards, breaking apart only to breathe, and then she feels the urge to escalate, to take it somewhere less exposed, less vulnerable. The kitchen is too bright, too open; she wants shadows and echoing tile and the hum of old pipes.
"Come with me," she says, and tugs your hand. Wanda leads you down the narrow hallway, skin sticking to the plaster where she brushes past. The bathroom is small, tiled in white, the shower stall narrow with clear glass doors. She reaches in and twists the faucet, and the pipes shudder before water drums against tile.
She pulls her tank top over her head, arms crossing, fabric catching on damp skin. The cotton shorts come next, peeling down, and she steps out of them, leaving both in a heap on the bathmat. You shove your shorts down your hips, kick them aside, and then it's just you both and the sound of water hitting porcelain.
She steps in first. The water is cool at best, the building's ancient plumbing struggling, but it's better than hot stagnant air. It runs down her shoulders, her spine, pooling at the small of her back. You follow her in, and the stall shrinks around you, your chest close enough that water channels between your bodies.
She turns around. Water hits the back of her neck and runs down between her shoulder blades, and she presses two fingers into the center of your chest and walks you backward until the tile catches you. Your eyes don't leave hers. She lowers herself down, one knee at a time to the floor of the stall.
She looks up at you and takes her time, her hand first, exploring you, and she watches your stomach tighten before she's even done anything. Your hand drops to her hair, not directing, just needing somewhere to be. She leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh, then looks up with a grin, feeling the shudder move through your whole body.
Then she takes you in, her mouth working with a hunger that matches the heat of the room. She goes easy at first, lips dragging, tongue working in slow rolls, and the sounds she makes are low and unhurried. Your fingers curl tighter in her hair. She feels your thigh go rigid under her palm and she presses into it, feeling the muscle jump. Water runs down her face and into her mouth and she tastes you and tap water and salt all at once and she wants more of it. She picks up the pace and your hips cant forward, her throat opening to take you deeper.
"Christ—" It comes out of you like something torn loose, and she feels it in her chest.
You pull her up by the arms, almost rough, and your mouth hits hers, open, immediate. You turn her so her palms find the glass door. She drops her head against the cool glass, arches her back and waits, her pussy dripping with need.
You sink down behind her.
Your thumbs press in and open her and then your mouth is there, no preamble, no teasing, just the broad flat of your tongue pushing upward, and her fingers curl against nothing. The glass gives her no grip. A loud moan charges through her and she fights the feeling of her knees starting to buckle.
You're relentless. Deliciously so. Your tongue circles her clit, then dips lower, pushing into her, and the sound she makes bounces off the tile. Your fingers dig into her hips, holding her still while your mouth works, and she can feel the hunger in it, the way you press your face into her like you're trying to crawl inside. Like you need this more than she does, and that thought takes her right up to the edge, causing her to whimper loudly when you suddenly stop your glorious oral manipulations on her pussy.
You stand, your hands steadying her hips before she feels you pressing against her. Your hands guide her hips, and you push in with one long stroke. Her palms slide on the glass. The fullness of you stretches her open, and she groans, low and desperate. You pull back, almost all the way out, and then you drive forward, and the glass door rattles in its frame.
You fuck her like that, pressed against the shower glass, water streaming over both of you. Each thrust pushes her body forward, her nipples dragging against the slick surface, and your hand comes up to cup her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. Your other hand stays on her hip, gripping hard as you increase the pace.
But there's something else. Between the hard strokes, your mouth finds the back of her neck, and you kiss her there, soft, your lips lingering along her spine. Your rhythm slows for a moment, deep and grinding, and your forehead rests against her shoulder blade. It's tender. Almost, dare she say, loving. It catches her off guard, and something in her chest cracks open.
Then you speed up again, and she quickly loses her ability to form thoughts.
The orgasm builds from thick and deep, coiling tight at her center, and she pushes back against you, her teeth clenched as she meets each thrust. "There—right there—" and your angle shifts, and she comes apart. Her whole body seizes, clenching around you, and she cries out, the sound raw and echoing before telling you it’s your turn.
“Cum for me. Please. Give it to me. I know you want to. Give me your cum. Now!”
Wanda doesn’t have to ask you twice. Your release hits hard, your hips stuttering, your hand squeezing her breast, a groan tearing from your throat that she feels vibrate through both your wet, naked bodies.
You stay like that, water still running cold, both of you breathing hard. Then you pull out slowly before turning her around. Your mouth finds hers in a deep kiss once more. The kiss is slow this time, relaxed, lazy, your hands cupping her face like she's something worth holding.
"You’re right, you know," you say, the cool water streaming down your faces. “It doesn’t have to be a solo sport.”
Wanda laughs, breathless, and kisses you again.
“See? I told you,” she giggles. And the best part? Summer has only just begun.
Summary: The journey to the coastal safehouse takes a sweet but unbearable turn for Yelena, who finds herself trapped in a car with Wanda and Y/N’s relentless, domestic pining.
Words: 9k+
Warnings: Canon-typical violence and blood, Angsty, Heavy pining, domestic fluff.
A/N: Sorry everybody in took me a long time to update this one. Hope you’ll all enjoy it.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Yelena's POV
The road stretched endlessly beneath a bright blue sky, winding through forests that slowly gave way to rolling hills. According to the map on the dashboard, they were only two days away from the old coastal safehouse.
If nothing went wrong.
Which, considering her life, probably meant something would.
Yelena rested one hand lazily on the steering wheel while the radio played quietly in the background. Beside her, Wanda sat unusually peacefully, one elbow resting against the window.
For the fifth time in the last ten minutes...She looked into the backseat.
Y/N was asleep. One arm was tucked behind her head while the other rested across her stomach. Her head leaned against the window, hair falling over her forehead, completely unaware that someone had been staring at her for the past hour.
Wanda smiled. Again.
Yelena watched the reflection in the windshield. There it was. That stupid smile. Then Wanda quietly looked back out the window.
Thirty seconds later...She looked back again. Still asleep. Another tiny smile.
Yelena made a face. She'd enjoyed teasing them before. Back when they were both hopeless idiots dancing around each other.
Now?
Now they were just...Sweet. Unbearably sweet. Every time Y/N reached for something, Wanda handed it to her before she asked. Every time Wanda shifted in her seat, Y/N instinctively adjusted the air conditioning without looking away from the road. Every time one of them laughed...The other looked like they'd personally invented happiness.
It was annoying. Cute, sure. But annoying. Yelena physically shuddered.
"I miss when you were both emotionally constipated."
Wanda looked over. "...What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't even know what that means."
"It means this." Yelena gestured dramatically between Wanda and the sleeping wolf in the back. "All this..." She waved both hands. "The smiling."
Wanda blinked innocently. "What smiling?"
"The smiling you keep doing."
"I haven't smiled."
"You smiled three seconds ago."
"I did not."
"You looked at sleeping beauty back there and smiled like you were in romance movie."
Wanda's ears turned pink. "I wasn't—"
"You were."
"I just looked."
"Mhm."
"I did."
"You looked lovingly."
"I did not look lovingly!"
Yelena sighed dramatically. "This is exhausting."
Wanda crossed her arms, trying very hard not to smile again. It lasted exactly twenty seconds. Then she glanced back once more. Y/N had shifted slightly in her sleep, brows furrowing before relaxing again. Wanda's entire expression softened.
Yelena let out the loudest groan she'd made all week. "Oh my god."
"What?"
"You did it again."
"I didn't even—"
"You looked at her like she is baby deer."
"I was making sure she was comfortable."
"You are proving my point."
Wanda huffed. "I can't win with you."
"No."
Yelena looked ahead. Then suddenly spotted a weathered sign beside the highway.
DINER — NEXT EXIT
Perfect. She flicked on the turn signal. "We're stopping."
Wanda looked over. "Why?"
"Because if I spend another hour watching you two make heart eyes at each other, I will intentionally crash this car."
"I don't—"
"No."
Yelena pulled into the gravel parking lot before Wanda could finish defending herself.
The diner looked like it had been standing there since the seventies. A faded red sign hung crookedly above the entrance, and three pickup trucks were parked outside.
Yelena killed the engine. "Let's go eat."
The sudden silence woke Y/N immediately. Golden eyes snapped open. She looked around once. Twice. Then focused on the front seats. "...Did something happen?"
"No," Yelena answered while already climbing out. "I'm hungry." She slammed the door behind her and marched toward the entrance.
Y/N watched her disappear through the glass doors. "...Is she upset?"
Wanda climbed out of the passenger seat just as Y/N stepped onto the gravel beside her. "I don't know."
Y/N frowned slightly toward the diner. "She sounded grumpy."
"I noticed."
Y/N closed the car door before looking toward Wanda. "...Did I do something?"
"I don't think so."
Before Wanda could say anything else, she found herself gently pulled forward.
Y/N wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding carefully around her shoulders.
"Wha—"
A low, content rumble vibrated through Y/N's chest. The familiar purr.
Wanda laughed softly. "Someone's in a cuddly mood."
Instead of answering, Y/N leaned down and rubbed her nose gently against Wanda's cheek. A slow, affectionate nuzzle. The motion was so natural that it almost made Wanda forget they were standing in the middle of a parking lot.
She smiled helplessly.
"There you are..."
Y/N hummed happily, pulling her a little closer. "You smell nice."
"Thanks."
Another soft nuzzle. Wanda's cheeks warmed immediately. "You've become very affectionate."
Y/N blinked. "...Is that bad?"
"No." Wanda reached up, smoothing a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "It's very nice."
Y/N smiled. A real one. Not shy anymore. Not uncertain. Just... happy. She dipped her head again, brushing another tiny nuzzle against Wanda's temple before kissing the side of her forehead.
Wanda melted.
"I think," she murmured against Y/N's shoulder, "Yelena might actually kill us."
Inside the diner, Yelena happened to glance through the front window while waiting for the waitress. She froze. Outside...The giant wolf woman was nuzzling Wanda's face.
Again. And Wanda was smiling like an idiot again.
Yelena slowly closed her eyes. Then opened them. They were still doing it. She looked toward the ceiling. "Natasha," she muttered under her breath. "You owe me."
The elderly waitress approached with a warm smile. "Table for one?"
Yelena sighed. "...Unfortunately, three."
As if summoned by fate itself, the front door opened. Y/N held it open for Wanda. Of course she did. Wanda thanked her with another smile.
Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be the longest two days of her life. She followed the waitress to a booth near the window before sliding into one side with a quiet sigh. Reaching for the menu, she looked up as the waitress smiled.
“Coffee?”
“Please, three.”
The waitress nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.
A moment later, Wanda and Y/N joined her. Y/N instinctively waited for Wanda to slide into the booth before taking the seat beside her. Yelena watched the entire thing happen and simply rolled her eyes.
Of course.
The waitress returned with three mugs of coffee, setting them down before leaving them to decide on breakfast. Silence settled over the table as everyone looked over their menus. After a minute, Y/N leaned a little closer to Wanda, angling her menu just enough for Wanda to see.
“They have blueberry pancakes.”
Wanda glanced to where Y/N was pointing, a small smile spreading across her face. “I see them.”
Y/N nodded once, looking quietly pleased she'd found them.
Across the table, Yelena looked between the two of them before shaking her head with an amused smile. “And there goes the lovesick smiles again.” Yelena comments.
Wanda groaned softly. “Just leave us alone Yelena!”
“I wish!” Yelena replied with a small shrug.
The waitress returned a few minutes later with a notepad tucked beneath her arm. “Ready to order?”
Wanda nodded. “I'll have the blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon.”
“I'll take the country breakfast,” Y/N said. “And... another side of pancakes.”
The waitress smiled as she scribbled everything down before looking at Yelena.
“The western omelet. Hash browns instead of fries.”
“I'll have that right out.”
She disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them with the smell of fresh coffee drifting through the diner.
Wanda wrapped both hands around her mug before looking at Yelena. “So... how much longer?”
Yelena thought for a moment before answering. “If the roads stay clear...” She took a sip of coffee. “Two more days.”
Wanda nodded. “And then?”
“We find the safehouse.”
“And hope Natasha is there.”
Yelena's expression softened slightly. “Yeah.”
“If she's not?”
“We figure out the next step.”
Y/N quietly listened while stirring cream into her coffee. “You think Hydra knows where we're going?”
Yelena shook her head. “No. But I still don't like staying anywhere too long.”
“We'll keep moving if we have to.”
Y/N nodded once. “I'll keep watch tonight.”
“You've kept watch every night,” Wanda reminded her.
“I know.”
“You need sleep too.”
“I sleep.”
“Wolf naps don't count.”
“They do.”
Yelena smirked into her coffee. “I am staying out of this one.”
A comfortable silence settled over the booth until the waitress returned, balancing three large plates on her arms. “Blueberry pancakes.” She placed Wanda's breakfast in front of her. “Western omelet.”
Yelena thanked her before reaching for the hot sauce.
“And the country breakfast.” The enormous plate landed in front of Y/N, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast, and pancakes.
“I'll be right back with the extra pancakes.”
Y/N nodded politely. “Thank you.”
A minute later, the waitress returned with another plate stacked with fluffy pancakes. “There you go, sweetheart.”
“Thank you.”
Yelena looked from the second plate to Y/N. “...You know, I always forget how much you eat.”
Y/N glanced down at the table. “…This isn't that much.”
Wanda laughed softly. “It really is.”
“It is?”
“Mhm.”
Y/N looked genuinely unconvinced before picking up her fork.
Breakfast began quietly. The only sounds were forks against plates, coffee cups settling back onto saucers, and the low murmur of conversations from the other customers.
Halfway through her pancakes, Wanda noticed Y/N had already finished nearly all of her eggs and bacon. She cut off a small piece of pancake, dipped it into the blueberries and syrup, then held the fork toward Y/N without thinking.
“Here.”
Y/N looked over before immediately leaning in to take the bite.
“Mm.”
Wanda smiled. “Good?”
Y/N swallowed. “Very.”
A few minutes later, Wanda did it again, this time with a piece of bacon. Y/N accepted it just as naturally. Yelena watched over the rim of her coffee before quietly shaking her head. “I knew this was going to start.”
Wanda looked over. “What?”
Yelena only roll her eyes and say “Nothing.” But the smile on her lips betrays her.
Wanda roll her eyes back and reach for Y/N plate stealing one of the crispy bacon strips.
Y/N noticed immediately. “…You took my bacon.”
“I did.”
“You could've asked.”
“I knew you'd say yes.”
Y/N considered that for a moment before nodding. “…That's true.”
She simply took another strip from the untouched side plate she'd ordered.
By the time Yelena had finished her omelet, Y/N had already cleaned her first plate completely. Not a crumb remained.
The waitress happened to walk past just as Y/N pulled the second plate of pancakes closer.
“Oh, honey,” she said with an impressed smile. “I’ve never seen anybody eat that much!”
Y/N looked up. “I was hungry.”
“I can tell.”
The waitress laughed warmly before continuing on to another table.
Wanda watched with quiet amusement as Y/N finished the second stack of pancakes, then reached for the remaining bacon and eggs she'd ordered on the side.
“You really were hungry.”
“I slept well.”
“I've noticed.”
Within another few minutes, the second plate was just as clean as the first.
Yelena leaned back in her seat, looking at the two empty plates in front of Y/N. “…Where does it all go?”
Y/N looked down at herself. “I don't know.”
“The wolf,” Wanda answered with a smile.
Y/N nodded thoughtfully. “…Probably.”
Yelena couldn't help smiling. “I should've guessed.”
She picked up her coffee again, watching Wanda absentmindedly brush a smear of syrup from the corner of Y/N's mouth with her thumb before returning to her own breakfast as if she hadn't done anything unusual.
Yelena simply rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Still ridiculous.
But... she supposed there were worse things than watching two people who'd finally found a little happiness after everything they'd survived.
---
Soon they were back on the road.
This time, Yelena insisted on driving again.
“I've had enough of being trapped in the backseat watching you two flirt,” she'd declared before tossing Y/N the keys to lock the car instead.
So Y/N sat in the passenger seat while Wanda settled into the back. It wasn't ideal. Every now and then, Y/N glanced into the rearview mirror just to check on Wanda. Every time their eyes met, Wanda smiled, and Y/N couldn't help smiling back before returning her attention to the road ahead.
Yelena noticed every single exchange.
She chose not to comment.
The day passed much like the ones before it. Long highways. Small towns. Forests gave way to open farmland before disappearing behind more stretches of empty road.
Around noon they stopped at another roadside diner for lunch before continuing south. A few hours later, they pulled into a gas station to fill the tank.
While Yelena paid for the fuel, Y/N disappeared into the convenience store. She emerged several minutes later carrying two bags absolutely overflowing with snacks.
Yelena looked at them, then at Y/N. “…Planning for winter?”
Y/N peeked inside one of the bags. “I got hungry.”
“You haven't stopped eating.”
“The wolf burns a lot of calories.”
“So apparently.”
The snacks disappeared surprisingly quickly over the next few hours. By the time dusk settled over the countryside, only a few empty wrappers remained on the floorboard beneath Y/N's seat.
The sun finally disappeared below the horizon just as another faded neon sign came into view.
MOTEL
DINER
VACANCY
Yelena let out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”
She pulled into the parking lot and switched off the engine.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then, almost in unison, all three doors opened.
Yelena climbed out first, stretching both arms over her head until her back cracked. “Oh...” She rolled one shoulder. “I think I've been sitting for ten years.”
Behind her, Wanda stepped out more carefully, immediately stretching her legs before letting out a quiet groan. “I never want to see another highway.”
“You'll see one tomorrow.”
“…Don't remind me.”
Y/N rounded the front of the car carrying all three duffel bags over one shoulder as if they weighed nothing.
“You can give me mine,” Wanda offered.
“I've got it.”
“I know you do.”
Still, Wanda slipped closer anyway, leaning lightly against Y/N's side. Without even looking, Y/N's free arm settled naturally around her waist.
It happened so automatically neither of them seemed aware of it. Yelena noticed. She simply shook her head with a small smile before leading the way toward the diner attached to the motel.
Warm air and the smell of grilled food greeted them the moment they stepped inside. The diner was small but cozy, with only a handful of occupied booths. Country music drifted softly from an old radio somewhere behind the counter while a waitress welcomed them with a tired but friendly smile.
“Evening, folks.”
“Evening,” Yelena answered.
“Booth okay?”
“Perfect.”
She led them toward the back of the diner.
Yelena slid into one side while Wanda and Y/N took the other. Wanda barely made it halfway across the booth before leaning against Y/N again. Y/N shifted closer without interrupting her reading of the menu, one arm remaining loosely around Wanda's waist beneath the table.
Yelena watched them for a second before looking back at her own menu. “…Road trips are exhausting.”
“They are,” Wanda agreed. “I cannot wait to lie down.”
“You've been saying that since lunch.”
“Because I meant it since lunch.”
Wanda laughed softly. “I think we've all reached our limit.”
Y/N nodded. “I could sleep for a day.”
Yelena looked over. “You? Sleep?”
“I do sleep.”
“Barely.”
The waitress returned with her notepad. “What can I get you?”
Yelena ordered first. “The chicken fried steak.” Wanda chose the grilled chicken with vegetables. Y/N studied the menu another moment. “I'll have the ribeye.”
The waitress nodded. “Okay...”
Y/N glanced down once more. “And!…another ribeye.”
The waitress smiled surprised. “Coming right up.”
Once she left, the three of them settled into the comfortable silence that only came after spending an entire week together. No one felt the need to fill every quiet moment anymore. Sometimes simply existing together was enough.
Their food arrived surprisingly quickly. The waitress carefully distributed the heavy plates across the table.
“Need anything else?”
“We're good,” Wanda said with a smile.
“Just holler.”
The smell of grilled steak immediately filled the booth. Y/N thanked the waitress before cutting into the first ribeye.
For several minutes, the only sounds were cutlery against plates and the quiet conversations drifting from the rest of the diner.
Halfway through her first steak, Y/N suddenly stopped chewing. Her fork froze halfway to the plate.
A second later, the bell above the diner's entrance jingled. Three men walked inside. They looked like ordinary travelers. Work boots. Baseball caps. Dust-covered jackets. One of them laughed at something another had said.
The waitress greeted them with the same warm smile she'd given everyone else.
“Evening, gentlemen.”
“Table for three.”
“Right this way.”
She led them deeper into the diner before seating them in a booth three rows behind Yelena's.
Close. Too close.
Y/N's breathing slowed almost imperceptibly. She inhaled once through her nose.
Then again. The scent hit her all at once.
Gun oil.
Cheap aftershave.
Hydra.
Her muscles locked. Wanda felt it immediately. Y/N didn't look at the men again. Instead, she slowly turned toward Wanda.
Golden eyes met green.
Hydra.
The single thought brushed against Wanda's mind like ice. Wanda's expression didn't change. She simply looked across the table. Yelena was finishing the last of her juice.
Their eyes met.
Wanda gave the smallest nod.
Yelena didn't ask a single question. “…Got it.”
She calmly reached into her jacket and pulled out several folded bills—enough to cover dinner and leave a generous tip. She tucked them beneath her empty glass without drawing attention.
None of them looked toward the three men again.
None of them needed to. Because if Y/N recognized that scent...Then they'd already stayed one minute too long.
Yelena didn't rush. That was the first thing Wanda noticed. No sudden movements. No panic. She simply folded her napkin, stood from the booth, and slipped on her jacket. “Ready?”
Y/N rose first, her eyes never once drifting toward the three men behind them. Wanda stood beside her.
The waitress happened to pass by just as they reached the register.
“Everything alright?” she asked warmly.
Yelena smiled with practiced ease. “Food was great.”
“I'm glad to hear that.”
She tucked the cash beneath the receipt holder. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Have a safe night.”
“You too.”
Nothing looked unusual. Nothing sounded unusual. Three tired travelers paying for dinner before checking into the motel.
Yelena pushed open the diner's door. Cold night air rushed over them. The parking lot stretched beneath buzzing neon lights.
Y/N immediately swept the area with one slow glance. Empty. Too empty.
“Car,” Yelena said quietly.
They didn't run. Running attracted attention. Instead, they walked briskly across the parking lot. Wanda climbed into the backseat, Y/N slid into the passenger seat, and Yelena was already starting the engine.
The SUV roared to life. She shifted into reverse. As they backed out of the parking space—The diner's front door burst open.
The three men stepped outside. One looked directly toward them. Another reached beneath his jacket.
“Go,” Y/N said.
Yelena didn't need to be told twice. The tires squealed across the asphalt as the SUV shot out of the motel parking lot and onto the highway.
For several seconds there was nothing.
Just darkness.
Headlights cutting through the empty road.
Y/N twisted in her seat, checking the passenger mirror. The motel was shrinking behind them. Then—Headlights.
Two vehicles exploded out of the motel entrance.
“They're coming,” Wanda said.
“I know,” Yelena answered calmly, pushing harder on the accelerator.
The engine growled.
Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.
The speedometer climbed relentlessly.
Behind them, the two SUVs matched every increase.
“They're gaining.”
“I see them.”
Yelena's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. The road ahead curved sharply through dense forest. She took it without touching the brakes.
The tires screamed.
The SUV leaned dangerously before gripping the pavement again.
Behind them, the first pursuing vehicle drifted wide before recovering.
“They're trained,” Y/N said quietly.
“I noticed.”
Gunfire shattered the night.
CRACK!
The rear windshield exploded inward. Glass showered across the backseat. Wanda ducked instinctively. Another shot punched through the tailgate.
“They're shooting!”
“You think?” Yelena barked.
She swerved violently left. Then right.
Another volley cracked through the darkness.
Bullets skipped across the asphalt. One struck the rear bumper.
The second SUV suddenly pulled into the opposite lane, trying to overtake.
“Oh, no you don't.”
Yelena jerked the wheel left, forcing the pursuing vehicle back behind them just before an oncoming truck thundered past.
The truck's horn blared.
The Hydra driver barely avoided a head-on collision.
“Nice.”
“Thank you.”
More gunfire. A bullet punched through the passenger-side mirror, exploding it into fragments.
Y/N didn't even flinch. “They're trying to disable us.”
“They're about to become my problem.”
Yelena took another hard corner before shouting, “Switch!”
Without hesitation, Y/N unbuckled. Wanda immediately grabbed the steering wheel with her magic from the backseat, keeping the SUV straight just long enough.
Yelena climbed halfway across the center console while Y/N slid behind the wheel in one smooth motion.
The transition took barely three seconds. Y/N caught the wheel.
Yelena was already hanging halfway out the passenger window. Wind whipped violently through her blonde hair as she drew one of her pistols.
“Little closer!”
Y/N understood immediately. She eased off the accelerator just enough.
The pursuing SUV closed the gap.
Closer.
Closer.
Yelena steadied herself against the roof.
“Perfect.”
BANG!
The first shot shattered the enemy's windshield.
BANG!
The second struck the front tire, exploding it. Rubber shredded across the highway. The SUV jerked violently sideways. Its driver fought for control.
Didn't get it.
The vehicle spun twice before smashing through the guardrail and tumbling down the embankment.
Yelena climbed back inside. “One down.”
She looked into the side mirror.
“…Ah.”
“What?”
“More.”
Headlights appeared over the hill behind them.
Not one. Three.
Then another.
“Oh, come on.”
Yelena slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol.
“How many people did you make angry?”
“I don't know,” Wanda answered.
Y/N's jaw tightened. “They've been waiting.”
The first of the new SUVs closed rapidly.
Then another. Four vehicles now, spread across both lanes.
Yelena cursed under her breath. “This is getting ridiculous.”
The nearest SUV pulled alongside them.
Its passenger rolled down the window.
Gun raised.
“Wanda!”
Scarlet energy erupted from the backseat. The red glow flooded the SUV. The entire vehicle lifted off the road as though grabbed by an invisible giant.
The Hydra agents inside had just enough time to scream. Then—The SUV flipped, crashing onto its roof before skidding across the highway in a shower of sparks.
The second vehicle swerved to avoid the wreck.
Wanda caught that one too. With a sharp motion of her hand, it rolled violently into the ditch.
Silence.
For exactly one second.
Yelena stared into the mirror. “…You could've done that earlier.”
“I was trying not to draw attention!”
“Little late for that!”
Before Wanda could answer, Y/N's instincts screamed.
“Left!”
A black SUV burst from a side road hidden by the trees.
It had been waiting.
The vehicle accelerated straight toward them.
“No—!”
CRASH!
The impact slammed into the driver's side with bone-rattling force.
Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The entire SUV spun violently across the highway.
Rubber screamed against the asphalt.
The driver's side slammed into the guardrail with enough force to fold steel inward. Glass exploded across the cabin as every airbag deployed at once, filling the vehicle with white fabric and the smell of burning propellant.
Wanda's head whipped sideways.
Crack.
Her temple slammed against the edge of the window before she was thrown into the opposite side of the backseat.
White flashed across her vision. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Only the ticking of the ruined engine echoed through the night.
Yelena was the first to react. “This is not a good way to die. You two okay?”
Wanda pushed herself upright with a groan, one hand immediately flying to the side of her head. Her fingers came away streaked with blood. The world tilted violently before settling again.
“...I'm fine,” she managed, though her voice sounded distant even to herself.
Y/N looked over immediately. “You're bleeding.”
Wanda blinked several times, trying to clear the ringing from her ears. “Just... hit my head.” She pressed harder against the cut, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes.
“I'm okay.”
Y/N wasn't convinced. The words had barely left Wanda's mouth when blinding headlights flooded the highway.
One SUV screeched sideways in front of them. Another blocked the road behind, doors bursting open. Hydra agents poured onto the asphalt with military precision, rifles already raised.
“There!” one shouted. “Move!”
Yelena kicked her door open before the first shot was fired.
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets ripped through the windshield as everyone scattered from the vehicle.
Yelena hit the ground in a combat roll. Her pistol barked twice before she was fully upright. Two Hydra rifles spun from their owners' hands.
She never stopped moving.
A third soldier rounded the hood of the SUV. Yelena met him with the butt of her pistol, smashing it across his nose before driving a knife beneath his arm. The man collapsed.
Another replaced him instantly.
Hydra had learned. They didn't attack one at a time. They moved in coordinated pairs. Suppressing fire. Flanking positions. Communication. But Y/N charged anyway.
A baton crackled with blue electricity as one soldier swung toward her head. She ducked beneath it, seized his forearm, and snapped it across her knee.
The scream barely escaped before another rifle stock crashed into her ribs from behind.
She didn't even turn. Her elbow shot backward into the man's throat. He folded instantly.
Another agent rushed from the left. Y/N caught him by the tactical vest and hurled him straight into the windshield of the lead SUV. Glass burst outward in a glittering explosion.
Across the road, scarlet energy exploded through the darkness.
Wanda caught three rifles at once, wrenching them from Hydra's grip before spinning them into the trees. An agent lunged at her with a combat knife.
She sidestepped. The blade missed by inches.
Her magic wrapped around his ankle, slamming him headfirst into the pavement. Another fired from behind. Before Wanda could turn—Yelena shot the rifle from his hands.
“I've got your back!”
“Thanks!”
For several brutal minutes, the highway became chaos.
Gunfire.
Magic.
Flying bodies.
Sparks.
Shattered glass.
Then—Silence.
Eight Hydra agents lay unconscious across the road. Yelena lowered her pistol. “...That felt too easy.”
Almost immediately, engines roared through the darkness. More headlights.
Three.
No...
Four.
Y/N looked up first. “They're not finished.”
Black SUVs surrounded them. Doors opened and more Hydra soldiers stepped out.
Then two figures emerged from the final vehicle. Neither carried a weapon. Neither looked concerned. Both were enormous. Broad enough to block the open door behind them. Dark tactical armor covered their bodies from neck to boots. Their expressions remained perfectly blank.
Y/N's heartbeat slowed. “...Enhanced.”
One of the men smiled. Not confidently.
Hungrily.
He disappeared. Not literally. Just impossibly fast. One instant he stood thirty feet away. The next—His fist crashed into Y/N's guard with enough force to create a shockwave.
The impact blasted her off her feet.
She flew backward through the air, smashing completely across the hood of a wrecked SUV before hitting the pavement hard enough to leave cracks in the asphalt.
She rolled twice, then forced herself upright.
The enhanced soldier hadn't moved. He simply waited.
Y/N wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.
“...Strong.”
“So are you.”
He smiled again.
Then attacked. The road beneath them exploded as they collided. Every punch sounded like a car crash. Y/N landed three clean strikes to his ribs.
He barely reacted. His knee slammed into her stomach. The air exploded from her lungs. A backhand sent her skidding twenty feet across broken pavement.
She'd never been hit that hard. Not since Hydra.
Across the highway, the second enhanced soldier crashed straight through Wanda's telekinetic barrier. It shattered like glass.
“What—”
Wanda instinctively reached out again, scarlet magic flaring around both hands. A sharp spike of pain exploded behind her eyes. Her vision doubled just for an instant the spell faltered.
It was enough.
The enhanced soldier burst through the half-formed barrier before it could solidify. He caught her wrist and twisted.
Pain shot up her arm. Wanda tried to throw him backward, but another wave of dizziness hit her. The ringing in her ears grew louder, making it harder to focus her magic.
Scarlet energy flickered wildly instead of striking cleanly.
His fist crashed into her ribs.
Wanda cried out as she slammed into the side of the ruined SUV, leaving a deep dent in the metal.
“Wanda!”
Y/N lunged toward her but the first enhanced intercepted. His shoulder drove into Y/N's chest. She hit the ground. Before she could rise—a boot slammed into her ribs.
The enhanced wasn't trying to beat her. He was keeping her away from Wanda.
Behind them, Yelena fought desperately to keep the remaining Hydra soldiers off both of them, firing, reloading, and switching to knives whenever someone got too close.
“We're getting circled!”
Wanda staggered upright, one hand braced against the SUV. Blood continued to trickle from the cut on her temple, dripping onto her collar. Every heartbeat made the pounding inside her skull worse. She shook her head once, trying to clear the haze.
It didn't help. The concussion slowed everything. Her thoughts. Her reactions.
Even her magic.
Normally, she would've stopped him before he got within arm's reach. Tonight...She was always a fraction of a second too late.
The enhanced soldier closed the distance again. He caught her by the throat. Lifted her completely off the ground.
Scarlet magic erupted around his arm, but Wanda struggled to maintain her concentration through the dizziness. The energy surged unevenly instead of crushing him outright.
He slammed her into the SUV again. The impact sent another burst of agony through her head.
Stars exploded across her vision. Blood ran freely down the side of her face.
He pulled back his fist. Y/N saw it.
Saw Wanda's unfocused eyes. Saw the blood. Saw her struggle to even keep her magic steady. Saw the fist descending.
Something ancient inside her shattered.
The growl that erupted from her chest didn't sound human. It shook the trees. Hydra agents froze. Even the enhanced soldiers hesitated. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. Dark fur burst through skin.
Within seconds, a massive wolf stood where Y/N had been. Golden eyes burned with pure fury. The wolf didn't roar. She attacked.
She hit the enhanced soldier like a freight train. Massive jaws crushed his armored shoulder. Steel folded between her teeth.
He screamed.
The wolf flung him nearly forty feet. He crashed through the windshield of his own SUV before the entire vehicle rolled onto its side.
The second enhanced charged. The wolf met him head-on. Claws tore through reinforced armor. He punched her ribs hard enough to splinter nearby asphalt.
She answered by driving him into the highway with both forepaws. The pavement collapsed beneath them. He tried to stand but she didn't let him.
Claws.
Teeth.
Another slam.
Again.
Again.
Again.
She fought like an animal protecting its mate. Not a soldier. Not an Avenger.
A wolf.
Every strike became more vicious than the last.
Nearby, Wanda forced herself onto one knee, clutching her side.
“Y...Y/N...”
One Hydra soldier hadn't joined the fight. He'd gone back to the SUV.
Carefully...He unlocked a reinforced case. Inside rested a long silver weapon covered in Hydra markings and glowing blue conduits.
Yelena's stomach dropped. “...Wanda.”
Wanda looked up. The barrel was already charging. “No...”
The soldier smiled. He wasn't aiming at the wolf. He was aiming behind her.
At Wanda.
The wolf couldn't see him.
“Y/N!” Wanda screamed.
The wolf turned, saw the weapon, then Wanda.
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. She leapt. The blue spear erupted from the launcher.
It struck the wolf square in the chest.
The weapon didn't explode. It punched through. Clean through. The force carried the wolf backward several feet before she hit the ground.
Silence.
The wolf remained standing for one impossible second. Blood poured from both sides of the wound. A broken whine escaped her throat. Then her legs gave out.
As she collapsed, the transformation unraveled.
Fur disappeared. Bones shifted. Claws became trembling fingers.
Y/N lay motionless on the shattered highway. A gaping hole tore through the center of her chest.
“Wanda...” Yelena's voice broke.
Wanda didn't answer. She couldn't.
The world had narrowed to one impossible sight.
Y/N.
Still.
Bleeding.
Not breathing.
Something inside Wanda broke beyond repair. Scarlet energy exploded from her body with a force that split the highway apart. The night turned crimson.
Cars lifted into the air. Hydra soldiers screamed as invisible hands seized every one of them simultaneously. The enhanced soldiers fought against it.
It didn't matter.
With a single, grief-filled scream, Wanda unleashed everything. The shockwave tore across the highway. Every Hydra vehicle crumpled like paper.
The launcher was ripped apart atom by atom. The enhanced soldiers were hurled hundreds of feet into the darkness. The remaining agents slammed unconscious into trees, concrete barriers, and overturned wreckage.
When the red light finally faded...Nothing moved. Nothing except Wanda.
She was already on her knees beside Y/N, her hands shaking as they reached for the wound that no healing magic in the world should have been able to fix.
“No…” Her voice barely existed.
Scarlet energy poured frantically from her palms, wrapping around the gaping wound in Y/N's chest.
“Come on…”
The magic trembled violently.
“Come on…”
It wasn't working.
Blood continued to seep between her glowing fingers, warm against her skin.
“No, no, no…”
“Wanda.” Yelena's voice sounded distant.
Wanda didn't hear her. She pressed both hands harder over the wound as though she could physically hold Y/N together.
“Please…”
Her magic searched desperately for something to mend.
Broken ribs.
Torn muscle.
Collapsed lung.
The hole through Y/N's chest.
Every spell unraveled the moment it reached the wound, as though something was consuming the magic itself.
Yelena knelt beside them, breathing heavily from the fight. She glanced over her shoulder, pistol still raised as she scanned the dark highway for movement.
Nothing. Only wrecked vehicles. Unconscious Hydra soldiers. Smoke rising into the night.
She looked back at Wanda.
“…Wanda.”
Nothing.
“Wanda.”
Still nothing.
Yelena reached out, carefully placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder.
The witch flinched violently.
“Don't touch me.”
“Wanda.”
“I'm fixing her.”
Her voice cracked.
“I'm fixing her.”
Yelena's heart sank.
Because Wanda wasn't speaking to her anymore. She was pleading with herself. With her magic. With the universe. Anything that might be listening.
Scarlet energy intensified until it illuminated the entire highway. Wanda gritted her teeth.
“You heal,” she whispered to Y/N, tears falling onto her face. “You always heal.”
Nothing.
“You heal.”
Nothing.
“You promised me…”
Another desperate wave of magic surged into the wound.
It vanished like pouring water into an endless abyss.
Wanda's breathing became ragged. “No…”
Yelena's expression tightened. Something about the weapon...It wasn't just a projectile. It had done something else.
She stood abruptly. “I'll find it.”
Wanda didn't answer.
Yelena hurried toward the shattered remains of the launcher scattered across the road. Pieces of silver alloy still glowed faintly blue.
Nearby lay the soldier who had fired it. Still alive but barely conscious.
Yelena was beside him in an instant, grabbing him by the front of his tactical vest and dragging him upright.
“What was that weapon?”
The man laughed weakly. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “You... don't know…”
Yelena slammed him against the overturned SUV.
“What. Was. It.”
He smiled. “A... wolf killer.”
Yelena's blood ran cold.
“It stops…” He coughed violently. “…regeneration.”
“No.”
“It destroys…” Another cough. “The healing response…”
Yelena stared at him.
“No…”
The man laughed again. “…By morning…”
He never finished. His head rolled limply to one side.
Unconscious. Or dead.
Yelena didn't care.
She looked back toward Wanda.
Toward Y/N.
Toward the pool of blood slowly spreading across the broken highway.
“Wanda…”
The witch still hadn't moved. Her forehead rested against Y/N's.
“I'm here,” she whispered brokenly. “I'm right here.”
Another pulse of scarlet magic.
Another failure.
“You don't leave me.”
Silence.
“You hear me?”
Nothing.
“You don't get to leave me.”
Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. The blood on Y/N's chest refused to stop flowing.
Then—Almost too faint to hear...
A tiny hitch.
Not a breath.
Not quite.
More like...
A weak, wet gasp.
Wanda froze.
Her entire body went still.
“…Y/N?”
Another tiny sound escaped Y/N's lips. So faint it could have been imagined. But Wanda had heard it. Hope exploded through her chest so violently it almost hurt.
“Yelena!”
Yelena spun around immediately.
“What?”
“She's alive.”
Yelena was beside them in seconds. The two women held their breath. Several agonizing moments passed.
Then...
Another shallow, ragged breath.
Painfully weak. Barely enough to move Y/N's chest. But it was there.
Yelena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
“She’s fighting.”
Wanda's tears fell freely as she gently cup Y/N's face with one hand while the other still pour her magic into Y/N chest.
“I know…” she whispered, her voice trembling with relief and terror all at once. “I know, my little wolf. Just keep fighting. I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
---
Y/N's POV
Pain.
It was everywhere.
Not sharp. Not dull. Just... everywhere.
Every breath burned. Every heartbeat sent something warm spreading through her chest. She couldn't move. Couldn't open her eyes. Couldn't even tell if she was lying down or standing.
There was only darkness.
And voices.
"...Y/N..."
Wanda.
She knew that voice anywhere.
Soft. Shaking and crying.
Y/N tried to answer but nothing came out.
Her lips refused to move.
"...stay with me..." Another voice.
Further away.
"...we need to move, Wanda." Yelena.
"They'll send more."
"No."
Wanda's answer came immediately.
"I'm not leaving her."
"We're not leaving her."
A pause.
"We're taking her with us."
Y/N wanted to tell Wanda she was okay. Wanted to reassure her. But all she managed was a weak twitch of her fingers. Or maybe she imagined it.
Something warm squeezed her hand. Immediately.
Like Wanda had been holding it the entire time.
"I'm here," Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm right here."
Y/N tried to smile. She wasn't sure if she did. The darkness swallowed her again.
---
The next thing she knew...
Movement. Everything hurt. Every bump rattled through her body. The steady vibration beneath her told her she was in a vehicle.
The smell of gasoline.
Leather.
Blood.
The SUV.
Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She forced them open. Only a sliver. The world was nothing but blurred lights streaking past the window.
"...Slow down!" Wanda shouted.
"I'm trying!" Yelena yelled back.
"They're behind us!"
The SUV suddenly jerked hard around a corner. Y/N's body slid several inches across the backseat despite the hands desperately trying to keep her still. Pain exploded through her chest.
A broken groan escaped her lips.
"...Ngh..."
Her eyes rolled back before she could stop them.
"Shit!"
Wanda caught her immediately.
"What the hell, Yelena?"
"There was a truck!"
"I don't care!"
"I'd rather not die tonight!"
"You almost killed her!"
"I almost killed all of us!"
Y/N barely understood the words. Everything sounded underwater. She felt warm hands press gently—but firmly—against the wound in her chest.
Gentle fingers brushed damp hair away from Y/N's forehead.
"We're almost there." A kiss touched her temple. "Stay with me."
Y/N tried.
God...
She tried.
But the darkness pulled harder. Everything disappeared again.
---
Cold.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Then...
Sheets. A mattress. The faint smell of old wood, medicine and rain.
Y/N groaned quietly.
"...Mm..."
Her eyelids fluttered open. Everything was blurry. The ceiling swayed strangely above her.
Where...
Where was she?
She inhaled instinctively. Trying to find something familiar.
Wanda.
Usually Wanda's scent grounded her immediately. But all she could smell was antiseptic.
Dust.
Old furniture and her own blood.
Confusion settled heavily in her chest. She blinked several times. Nothing came into focus.
"...W..."
Her throat hurt. She slowly turned her head. Just find an empty room and no signs of Wanda.
Her heartbeat spiked instantly.
Panic.
She pushed herself upright. The movement sent unbearable pain through her chest.
"...Ah..."
Her vision blackened around the edges.
No.
No, where—
"Wanda..."
Her voice barely came out. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The second her feet touched the floor…they gave out.
Y/N hit one knee hard against the wooden boards. Pain shot through her body but she didn't care.
"Wanda..."
She forced herself up using the bedside table. The room tilted violently. She stumbled into the wall.
Caught herself and kept moving.
Her hearing rang loudly. Somewhere nearby...
Voices.
Muffled.
Someone was talking. She couldn't make out the words. Only that people were there. She staggered toward the bedroom door, one hand pressed against the wall to keep herself upright.
Every step hurt. Every breath burned.
Her chest felt tightly wrapped beneath thick bandages.
She reached the hallway. The voices became clearer. Still distorted beneath the relentless ringing in her ears.
Another doorway. Light spilled through it. She stumbled toward it.
Almost there...She leaned against the frame—And froze.
Wanda.
Standing across the room talking to someone.
Yelena.
There was someone else too but Y/N didn't register who. All she saw was Wanda. Alive.
Before anyone could react—She lurched forward. Her legs completely gave out.
"Wanda..."
Wanda turned at the sound just in time to catch her.
Y/N practically collapsed into her arms.
"W-Whoa!"
Wanda wrapped both arms around her immediately before she hit the floor.
"Y/N!"
Y/N buried her face against Wanda's neck.
Frantically.
Desperately.
She inhaled over and over.
Finding her scent. Making sure it was real.
"You..." she whispered hoarsely, panic still evident in every word. "You're okay..."
Her nose brushed frantically along Wanda's neck, her shoulder, her hair.
Checking.
Confirming.
"You weren't..."
Another shaky breath.
"...hurt..."
Wanda's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"Oh, baby…”
Y/N clung tighter despite how badly it hurt.
"I couldn't..." Her breathing hitched. "I couldn't smell you..."
"I know."
"I thought..."
"I know."
Wanda carefully cradled the back of her head, tears already slipping down her cheeks.
"I'm okay."
Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her face.
Still blurry. Still doubled. She reached up with trembling fingers and cupped Wanda's cheek.
"...You're okay?"
"I'm okay."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Only then did some of the panic leave Y/N's body. Her shoulders sagged. Relief washed through her.
"...Good..."
The single word was barely audible. Then her knees buckled again.
"Y/N!"
She completely went limp in Wanda's arms, unconscious once more before Wanda could finish calling her name.
---
Pain greeted Y/N before consciousness did. Not the unbearable agony from before.
This was different.
A deep, dull ache spread through her chest every time she breathed, as though every muscle had been torn apart and stitched back together.
She frowned.
The light behind her eyelids felt too bright. Slowly…she opened them. The room blurred for only a second before gradually sharpening into focus.
The ceiling was wooden.
Old beams.
Stone walls.
A fireplace crackled quietly somewhere nearby. Nothing spun this time. She squinted against the sunlight filtering through the curtains.
A gentle hand brushed through her hair.
“Easy…”
Wanda.
Y/N turned her head.
Wanda was sitting in a chair pulled right beside the bed. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes, and her hair was tied back messily. She looked like she hadn't slept properly in days.
Despite that…the moment their eyes met, Wanda smiled.
A shaky, relieved smile.
“Hi.”
Y/N's lips felt dry.
“…Hi.”
Her voice came out rough, almost unrecognizable.
Wanda immediately reached for the glass on the bedside table.
“Easy.”
She slid one arm carefully behind Y/N's shoulders, helping her sit just enough to drink. The cool water soothed her throat.
Y/N sighed softly.
“…Better?”
She nodded.
Wanda helped her lie back down before brushing another strand of hair from her forehead.
For several moments, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other. Making sure the other was really there.
Y/N was the first to break the silence.
“…How long?”
Wanda's smile faltered.
“You've been asleep...” She swallowed. “…Three days.”
Y/N blinked slowly. Three…days?
“I thought...” she whispered.
“I know.”
Wanda reached for her hand immediately, lacing their fingers together.
“We made it.”
“The safe house?”
Wanda nodded.
“We were only about forty minutes away.”
“What happened?”
For a moment, Wanda didn't answer. Her thumb continued tracing slow circles across the back of Y/N's hand.
“You passed out again in the SUV. We couldn't stop. They kept sending more patrols, so Yelena drove...” She let out a tired breath. “…Like a maniac.”
Despite everything, the corner of Y/N's mouth twitched.
“I believe that.”
“It wasn't funny.”
“I know.”
“We got here just before sunrise.”
Y/N listened quietly.
“The weapon...” Wanda's voice caught. “…It wasn't normal.” She looked down at their joined hands. “It went straight through your chest.” Her breathing became uneven.
“I tried healing you. I tried everything. Closing the wound. Stopping the bleeding. Repairing the damage.” Her voice broke. “…I couldn't.”
Tears welled in her eyes again.
“My magic just...” She shook her head helplessly. “It wouldn't work.”
Y/N squeezed her hand as much as her weakened body allowed.
“The man who fired it,” Wanda continued quietly, “Yelena found out it was designed specifically for enhanced people.”
Y/N frowned.
“It stopped your healing.”
The words hung heavily between them.
“For almost two days,” Wanda whispered, “nothing happened.”
“I thought...”She couldn't finish. Her lips trembled. “I thought I'd lost you.” A tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it.
“I kept checking your heartbeat.”
“Every few minutes.”
“I was terrified it would stop.”
Y/N's heart clenched. “Wanda...”
“The wound finally started closing yesterday.” Wanda laughed softly through her tears. “Just... a little. But it was enough.”
She looked down at Y/N's bandaged chest.
“Then this morning... your healing finally came back. The hole closed. The lung repaired itself. The ribs started knitting back together.”
She smiled through her tears.
“You're still healing…But you're healing.”
Y/N couldn't stand seeing her like this. She slowly tried to push herself up. But a sharp pain ripped through her chest.
“…Ah...”
She immediately collapsed back against the pillow with a pained groan.
“Hey.”
Wanda was beside her in an instant.
“Don't. You've got a hole that only mostly closed.”
Y/N winced.
“I just...” Another painful breath. “…Wanted...”
She reached up anyway. Her fingers brushed against Wanda's cheek.
“…Come here.”
Wanda didn't hesitate. She leaned forward immediately until their foreheads rested together. Y/N's thumb gently brushed away one of the tears still clinging to Wanda's face.
“I'm sorry...”
“No.”
Wanda shook her head immediately. “Don't apologize.”
“I scared you.”
“You almost died.”
“I'm still sorry.”
A watery laugh escaped Wanda.
“You really are impossible.”
“I know.”
They stayed like that for several quiet moments. Just breathing. Just existing.
Neither wanting to let go.
Then—A familiar voice spoke from the doorway.
“Well...”
The voice was hoarse. Warm. Carried the unmistakable hint of amusement.
“I leave you two alone for a month... and this is what happens?”
Both of them turned.
Standing in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame with her arms loosely crossed, was Natasha.
There were fresh bruises along her jaw. A bandage wrapped around one forearm and she looked tired but she was smiling.
A real smile.
Her green eyes landed on Y/N.
“They said you'd wake up today.” She pushed herself off the doorframe. “I was starting to think you were trying to sleep through my welcome home.”
Y/N stared at her for a long second.
Then...“…Nat.”
Natasha's smile softened.
“Hey, pup.”
The nickname alone was enough to make Y/N smile weakly.
Natasha let out a quiet breath, some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders.
Y/N looked between Natasha and Wanda. “…How?”
“We got here first,” Natasha explained, stepping farther into the room. “Steve, Bucky, and I reached this safe house two days before you three did.”
“…Then?”
“Yelena came crashing through the front door just before sunrise.” A smirk tugged at Natasha's lips. “Literally.”
Wanda sighed. “She almost drove through the fence.”
“I was in a hurry,” Yelena called from somewhere down the hallway.
Ignoring her, Natasha continued, “Yelena was covered in dirt. You were covered in blood.” Her gaze settled on Y/N. “…And you looked dead.”
The room fell silent.
“Wanda wouldn't let anyone touch you.”
Y/N looked at Wanda, who lowered her eyes to their joined hands. “I thought if I let go...” she whispered, “…you'd stop breathing.”
Y/N gently squeezed her hand.
“When none of us went back, after that mission…” Natasha continued, “Clint came to me immediately. Didn't tell anyone. Just left. Classic Clint. A few hours later, Sam showed up too, looking for Steve and Bucky. Fury had managed to reach him.”
“Fury?” Wanda asked.
Natasha nodded. “He knew something was wrong inside SHIELD but didn't know who he could trust. His orders were simple: find us, stay off the grid, and don't trust anyone claiming to be SHIELD until he says otherwise.”
“…So officially?” Y/N asked.
“We're all missing,” Natasha replied. “Fury listed every one of us as MIA. That buys him time to figure out who's compromised.”
“And while we stay hidden...” Y/N murmured.
“We figure out what Hydra is really planning,” Natasha finished. “And how deep this goes.”
A knock sounded against the already open door.
Yelena leaned against the frame with an apple in one hand. She looked at Y/N, took another bite, and said, “Oh. The corpse woke up.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “There she is.”
“I was getting bored talking to Sleeping Beauty.”
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “…Hi.”
“Hi.”
Yelena wandered over to the bed and, for once, dropped the sarcasm. “…Thanks.”
Y/N blinked. “What for?”
“For jumping in front of that thing.” Her voice softened. “It wasn't just Wanda you protected. It would've hit both of us.”
Silence lingered before she shoved her free hand into her pocket. “…So... thanks.”
“I'd do it again,” Y/N said.
“I know.” Yelena sighed. “That's what worries me.”
Natasha clapped her hands once. “Alright. Mission briefing can wait. You've been unconscious for three days. Your only job right now is recovering. We'll catch you up later.”
Y/N nodded. “Okay.”
Natasha gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. “Come on, Yelena.”
Yelena took another bite of her apple. “Don't do anything dramatic while we're gone.”
Y/N looked genuinely confused. “I'm in bed.”
“Exactly.”
The sisters disappeared into the hallway, leaving only the crackling fireplace to fill the silence.
Y/N turned her head. “Wanda.”
“Hm?”
“Come here.”
Without a word, Wanda kicked off her shoes and carefully climbed onto the bed beside her, taking care not to jostle the bandages around Y/N's chest. The mattress dipped as Y/N slowly lifted an arm despite the pain and wrapped it around Wanda's waist, pulling her close.
Wanda melted against her, resting her head beneath Y/N's chin.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Y/N simply breathed her in.
“…Did you sleep?” she finally asked.
“I did.”
Y/N looked down at the dark circles beneath Wanda's eyes, her tangled hair, and wrinkled clothes.
“…Liar.”
“I slept.”
“You closed your eyes,” Y/N murmured. “That's different.”
Wanda said nothing.
“You stayed here.”
A small nod.
“The whole time?”
Another nod.
“You barely left.”
“…Only when Nat or Yelena made me.”
“Wanda...”
“I couldn't.” Her voice cracked. “What if you woke up and I wasn't here?”
Y/N's heart ached. She tightened her arm around Wanda despite the sharp protest from her ribs.
“Easy,” Wanda whispered.
Ignoring the pain, Y/N rested her cheek against Wanda's hair. “I'm awake now.”
“I know.”
“So now...” She kissed the top of Wanda's head. “…you need to sleep.”
“I'll sleep later.”
“No.”
Wanda looked up to find Y/N watching her with quiet determination.
“You took care of me. Now let me take care of you.”
Wanda smiled tiredly, cupping her cheek. “I'll let you... after you're recovered.”
Y/N opened her mouth.
“No arguments.” Wanda glare softly.
“I wasn't—”
“You were about to.”
“…Maybe.”
“I've spent three days making sure you stayed alive. Now you stay in bed until you're healed.”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “I don't like staying in bed.”
“I know.”
“I feel useless.”
“I know.”
“I can walk.”
“You can barely sit up.”
“…That's temporary.”
“It is. Until then...” Wanda kissed the tip of her nose. “…you're listening to me.”
“…You're bossy.”
“I learned from Natasha.”
Y/N laughed, immediately wincing as pain flared through her chest.
Wanda rested a hand gently against her side. “See?”
“I'm fine.”
“Mhm.”
“I am.”
“You just proved my point.”
Y/N sighed and settled deeper into the pillows, still holding Wanda close.
“…Then sleep here.”
Wanda blinked. “Here?”
“With me.”
“You need space to heal.”
“I need you.”
Silence settled between them as the words lingered in the air. A faint blush colored Wanda's cheeks.
“…Okay.”
She carefully lay beside Y/N on top of the blankets, mindful of every bandage. The bed was small, but neither cared. Wanda rested her head lightly against Y/N's shoulder while Y/N held her just tightly enough to keep her close.
“There.”
“There,” Y/N echoed.
For the first time in days, Wanda's body finally relaxed. The tension eased from her shoulders, and the fear that had kept her awake every time Y/N's breathing changed slowly melted away.
Y/N buried her face in Wanda's hair. “…Sleep.”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
A soft smile spread across Wanda's face.
“I promise.”
Within minutes, her breathing became slow and even. Y/N smiled faintly. It had taken nearly being torn apart for Wanda to finally rest. She pressed one last kiss to the top of Wanda's head before closing her own eyes—not to sleep, but simply to listen to Wanda's heartbeat.
Pairing: Stoner g!p Reader x Virgin Megan Skiendiel
Warnings: Explicit smut, heavy marijuana use, loss of virginity, creampie, oral (giving & receiving), face-fucking, squirting, spanking, multiple orgasms, cum play, sloppy/kinky sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, filthy dirty talk. 18+ only. Pure fantasy.
The penthouse was thick with sweet, heavy indica smoke. It hung in lazy clouds under the dimmed lights, turning everything soft and hazy. You’d been smoking for hours—blunts, a fresh bowl packed in the bong, edibles kicking in slow and heavy. The air smelled like good weed, vanilla, and the faint cherry from Megan’s gloss.
She was stretched out on the oversized couch in nothing but a thin white tank and black lace panties, long legs bare, that smooth jade-toned skin glowing. Megan Skiendiel looked relaxed for once, eyes heavy-lidded and red, that pretty face flushed. Strands of her reddish-brown hair stuck to her neck from the heat. She’d come over straight after a long day, looking for escape, and the two of you had been passing joints back and forth until the room spun gently.
You sat across from her in loose shorts, your thick cock already hard and tenting the fabric. Cross-faded as hell, body heavy, mind floating. Every hit made the throb between your legs worse.
“Pass it,” she murmured, voice low and husky. She took the blunt from your fingers, wrapped her lips around it, and pulled deep. Her chest rose, nipples visible through the thin tank. When she exhaled, she blew the smoke toward you with a lazy smile. “This shit’s got me so fucking horny.”
You smirked, palming your bulge openly. “Yeah? Come here then.”
Megan crawled over without hesitation, straddling your lap. Her weight settled right over your cock, and she let out a soft gasp as she felt the full size pressing against her barely-covered pussy. She rocked slowly, grinding down, the friction pulling a needy whimper from her throat.
“It feels so big already,” she whispered, biting her lip. Her eyes were glassy, innocent but starving. “I’ve never… you know. Gone all the way. But I want it tonight. Want you to ruin me.”
The weed made everything slow and intense. You grabbed her hips, guiding her movements, feeling her get wetter through the lace. You peeled the tank off, exposing her perky tits—soft, full, pink nipples begging. You leaned in and sucked one into your mouth, tongue swirling sloppy and wet while your hand slipped into her panties.
She was soaked. Dripping. Your fingers slid through her folds, circling her swollen clit before teasing her tight entrance. Megan moaned loud, head falling back, grinding harder against your hand.
“Fuck… your fingers feel so good,” she breathed. The high made her sensitive—every touch electric. You pushed one thick finger inside her virgin pussy, then two, stretching her slowly while your thumb rubbed her clit. She rode your hand, panting, thighs shaking.
You flipped her onto her back on the couch, yanked the panties down her legs, and spread her wide. Her pussy was smooth, puffy lips glistening, little hole clenching. You buried your face between her thighs and ate like you were starving. Tongue fucking deep, sucking her clit hard, spitting on it, slurping loud and messy. The wet sounds mixed with her moans and the low hum of the playlist.
Megan’s hands fisted in your hair, pulling you closer. “Oh my god—yes, eat my pussy like that!” She came hard the first time, thighs clamping around your head, a small squirt coating your chin. You didn’t stop. You kept devouring her through it, adding a third finger, curling them against that spot until she squirted again, crying out.
Your cock was leaking precum, heavy and aching. You stood, stroking it slow, letting her see every thick inch—veiny, curved slightly, heavy balls. “Open up, baby.”
She did, tongue out, eyes hazy with lust and weed. You slapped your cock against her tongue, then fed it into her warm mouth. Megan gagged instantly on the girth, eyes watering, but she tried. Sloppy, spit-drooling head. You held her hair and fucked her face gently at first, then deeper, balls tapping her chin. Drool ran down her chin onto her tits. She looked filthy—mascara smudged, lips stretched wide.
“Good fucking girl,” you groaned, pulling out to rub the wet head all over her face, marking her with spit and precum.
You carried her to the bedroom, joint still lit between your fingers. Laid her on the bed, legs spread obscenely. You rubbed your cockhead up and down her soaked slit, teasing her clit, pushing just the tip in.
“It’s gonna hurt at first,” you warned, voice thick.
“I don’t care. I want it,” she begged, pulling you closer.
You pushed in slow—inch by thick inch. Her virgin walls stretched tight around you, gripping like a vice. Megan whimpered, nails digging into your shoulders, but the weed helped her relax. Halfway in she was already babbling. When you bottomed out, balls deep, her belly showed a slight bulge.
“Fuck… I’m so full,” she moaned. You stayed still, passing her the joint. She hit it hard, coughing smoke while her pussy fluttered around you.
Then you started thrusting. Deep, slow strokes that turned nasty fast. The wet squelch of her creamy cunt filled the room. You grabbed her hips and fucked her harder, her tits bouncing with every thrust. Megan’s moans got louder, filthier.
“Harder—fuck my pussy harder!” she cried.
You flipped her doggy style, pounding deep, one hand fisting her hair, the other smacking her ass red. You spat on her tight little asshole and thumbed it while railing her cunt. She came again, squirting down your balls, soaking the sheets.
You pulled out, flipped her missionary, folded her legs up by her ears, and slammed back in. The position let you go impossibly deep, tip kissing her cervix. “Gonna fill this tight virgin pussy. Breed it full.”
“Yes—cum inside me! I want it dripping out,” she begged, voice breaking. The stoner haze made her shameless. Her walls clenched as she came again, milking you. You roared and pumped rope after thick rope of hot cum deep inside her. So much it leaked out around your cock immediately.
But the weed kept you hard. You kept fucking her through the creampie, pushing your load deeper, making it frothy and messy. The sounds were obscene—wet, squelching, cum mixing with her juices.
You pulled out and made her suck you clean. She did eagerly, tasting herself and your cum, eyes locked on yours. Then you ate your own creampie out of her ruined pussy, snowballing it into a sloppy, cum-filled kiss.
Round two started with her riding you. Megan’s hips worked like magic—bouncing, grinding, ass clapping against your thighs. You smacked her ass red, fingers digging in, thumb slipping into her asshole again while she rode. She came twice like that, voice hoarse.
You flipped her onto her stomach, fucked her prone bone, deep and grinding. Then against the window overlooking the city lights, her tits pressed to the glass while you railed her from behind. Anyone looking up might’ve seen her face twisted in pleasure.
Hours blurred. You lost count of her orgasms. You came in her mouth, making her swallow most before painting her face and tits. You came on her ass, then fucked it back inside her pussy. You used the melted wax from a candle to drip on her sensitive skin, then soothed it with your tongue. Every filthy idea the high gave you, you did.
By the end, the bed was destroyed—sheets soaked in sweat, cum, squirt, and ash from a spilled joint. Megan lay curled against you, pussy still leaking your loads, body marked with hickeys and handprints. She took another slow hit from the fresh blunt you lit, then passed it over.
“That was… insane,” she whispered, voice raw. “I’ve never felt anything like that. My whole body is buzzing.”
You pulled her closer, cock twitching against her thigh again. “We’re not done. Round four after this blunt?”
She laughed softly, already grinding against you. “Fuck yes.”
The night stretched on—lazy, nasty, endless. Just smoke, skin, and pure filthy pleasure.
