xtra7s

[xtra7s]

[xtra7s]

throatfuck

Summary: Wanda likes you on your knees. You're also a fan.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, deepthroating, magic cock, come swallowing, choking/gagging, mommy kink

WC: 1,356

A/N: fic is below the cut as per usual — have fun! (i fear y'all may be left high and dry for a bit since it's midterm season)

Spit runs down the side of your mouth, and you flick your eyes up, distantly aware of the red glow in Wanda's eyes. All you can really feel, all that anchors you, is the feeling of Wanda's fingers, pressed against your hair. Her palms are clamped over your ears as she scratches lightly against your scalp. She's exerting just enough force to pull your head down, keeping you anchored.

Well, you can feel that, and the pulsing strap-on stretching open your throat.

Wanda's magic has always been a wonder to behold, and this faux, enchanted cock is certainly no exception.

You moan lowly as Wanda pulls you down harder, her hips bucking up, her throbbing length sliding in deeper and stoppering any of your attempts to breathe. It's a delicious sort of torture, bending to her every whim, fully puppeteered by just her hands and fingers.

"You feel so good," Wanda moans from somewhere above, the words faded and distant, warped, as if they're coming through water.

The haze clouding your thoughts thickens as the glowing strap presses deeper. You groan again, the sound muffled around the intrusion, desperate for a breath of air. Well, moreso for Wanda to come already. It's all you've been waiting for all day, ever since Wanda left in the morning.

Wanda pulls back again, fingers gentling where they hold the sides of your head. Her fingers brush underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that have collected there as she coos down at you.

"My good girl, taking it so well."

You moan, hoarse and needy, and run your tongue up the length of Wanda's cock, pausing to suckle softly on the tip. The motion elicits a soft gasp, and Wanda's hips twitch up, inadvertently pushing the cock back down your throat.

"Detka," she murmurs, hands stroking your face as you try your best to open your throat for her. The thick intrusion pulses against your tongue, and you hum softly, face warm and mouth content as drool slips out past your lips.

In your eagerness to take all of her at once, she bumps against your gag reflex. You react viscerally, more tears streaming down your face, but Wanda's suddenly firm hands don't allow any wiggle room. She holds your head in place, crooning softly as the feeling subsides, for you to swallow it back down. Only then does she pull back, a sickly sweet smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"You're doing so well for me, pretty girl" she coos.

The only response you can provide is an unintelligible burble of noise. She doesn't wait to hear your messy sounds, fucking right back into your mouth, slow, agonizing, and filling. It's all you need for your mind to go completely blank.

Wanda moans again, and then begins to set a steady rhythm. The slick noises of her thrusting echo around the empty room as she pulls the faux cock back past your lips. She watches with keen eyes when you lean forward, tongue swirling around the head of her strap as you chase the rest of the length.

The shlick pull is closely followed by a familiar muffled, choked noise as she thrusts back in, bumping the back of your throat and sliding down as far as she can. Her fingers are sticky where they rest against the sides of your face, your spit coating her fingertips.

It takes a few tries, and your eyes are red by the time Wanda manages to succeed, but soon enough, she's able to bottom out completely. Your nose brushes against red curls as she presses in to the hilt, filling you to the brim.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you completely bliss out. The heat of arousal pulses between your legs where a pool of slick is slowly forming. Your cunt throbs in time with Wanda's harsh thrusts, and you moan as she takes and takes and takes.

"My pretty girl, aren't you?" she croons. "So good for me. Such a nice little throat, all for me to use, hm?"

Her voice is devastatingly saccharine, sweet and poisonous even as she lavishes compliments on you.

You nod weakly, moaning as Wanda pulls you in again, fingers grasping at your hair as she fucks down the length of your throat. She keeps you pressed there, unmoving, unable to breathe, watching as your face cycles through shades of red, magenta, and purple before she pulls back again.

"Such a sweet girl," she hums.

You lave the head of her cock with your tongue eagerly, always seeking to please, and make a mess of yourself between your thighs.

"Do you want mommy to come?" she asks, light and airy. Casual. As if she's asking what you want for dinner.

You nod eagerly, cheeks hollowing out as you suck on the tip of her cock, eyes rolling back when she arches and you're fed several more inches of warm silicone.

"Mm, hold on for me, detka," she murmurs.

And then Wanda pushes back in, slamming into your throat before she's back out again, tip hovering just behind your teeth. Your jaw feels sore as she pulls back out and shoves back in, fucking your throat for all you have.

She fucks violently, passionately, desperately. All the things you love so much about her. She huffs sharply, panting as you take her cock over and over and over again. Before long, you can feel her pulsing harder, throbbing and leaking pre-come so heavy you can barely swallow it.

You moan around her, hoping to spur her on and encourage her orgasm, and Wanda's hips shiver where she's pressed against you. She whimpers high in her throat, the first real reaction you've been able to elicit. When you whimper in response, she keens into the air, head thrown back. Hilted fully in your throat, Wanda rotates her hips just slightly, moaning when you make a choked, garbled noise. Her cock throbs harder, and you're just trying your best not to pass out.

This isn't anything new. Every time you offer a blowjob, she takes full advantage, holding her enchanted strap in as long as she can, as long as you can take it. You wait it out, feeling your lungs run empty, vision blurring. She pulls out, and a rush of cold air fills your lungs. Relief before she pushes back in again.

You bring your hands up, shaky and trembling, and press softly at the base of her cock. She shivers again, and you moan in response, causing her to tremble over and over again, a feedback loop of stimulation until finally, finally the dam breaks. Wanda stiffens entirely, and you can feel the blush high on your cheeks as your breath runs thin, and then her faux cock throbs one last time before you feel thick come pulsing down your throat, deposited directly into your stomach.

She pulls out a little after the first few pulses and pulls your mouth open by the teeth to watch with lidded eyes as her cock pulses the remainder of her come out onto your tongue.

You moan and close your mouth when her fingers retreat, sucking on her softening cock to milk her dry. Wanda taps on your cheek again, and you open your mouth, watching as her eyes glaze over at the sight of your full mouth.

"My pretty girl," she murmurs, hushed and exhausted, cock flagging once.

"You can swallow now," she hums.

You acquiesce, feeling the way warmth travels down your neck, settling somewhere lower. A new heat, joining the one that's resting between your loins.

"Mommy," you murmur, reveling in the sticky tanginess of her come clinging to the back of your throat. "Will you fuck me now?"

Wanda grins with all her teeth, sharp and gleaming in the dim lamplight of the bedroom, and yanks you to your feet. She pulls you down into her lap and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, her lips plush and heavy over yours.

Her green eyes seem to glow when she pulls back.

"Thought you'd never ask, detka."

[xtra7s]

you’re caitlyn kiramman’s (g!p) secretary MDNI 18+ boob job, femme!reader

it was such a normal thing for you to get tangled into caitlyn’s personal life, yes she is reserved af but since she fucked you all that got thrown out the window in the blink of an eye.

it happened in a frenzy, hand clutching at your hair as she arches your back for her even more. the grey skirt of yours is crinkly and your underwear hanging off of your feet and your stockings? torn all over the place. she took you hard and fast, papers flying all over the place as she grunts and groans at the sight of your soaked pussy, filled to rim with cum..hers. your moaning and your “ah-h thank you ms. kiramman” must’ve done something to her brain, wires breaking completely as she later on went to wank in the confinement of her house.

it’s needless to say the two of you went past that day, save for the yearning looks you’d give her and the way her eyes slid down your sheer tights cladded legs and to the curves of your body.

a pretty heated day is when she finally caves in, seeing you in a pencil skirt, button up shirt hugging your boobs just right. now what did it was the way you left the three top buttons unbuttoned, it’s as if you wanted her to break..and trust me she was so close

her suit pants feeling a tad bit tighter as you walked in, a stack of paper in hand, and you’ve yet to notice the way caitlyn goes red in the face as you greet her with your oh so sweet smile. “morning ms. kiramman.”

nordic-blue eye widening at the way you bend over to pick a stray paper. boob spillage right in front of her goddamn face.

which led to where you are right now, both hands holding your boobs over the bra as she glides her rock hard dick right through, a huff falling off of caitlyn’s lips at the way the softness of your boobs felt-soft and squishy. “hmph you’ve been doing a-a lot lately, coming into work in such provocative clothes, toying with me, oh god” she groans.

the snap of her hips never ceasing its movement, tiny warm pebbles of precum gliding down her reddish veiny shaft and onto your skin. as you sit there obediently, on the cold floor; her figure towering over you.

you can feel your underwear sticking against you at the sight of her. the ache between your thighs feeling like pure torture as she takes her pleasure unapologetically.

"yes-s ms. kiramman 'm all yours..use me" a desperate groan falling off of her mouth as you hold onto your boobs tighter and sit still for her, fighting the urge to help her as you take in the sight of her pained expression and the way she throws her head back trying to breathe deep but fail miserably.

“y-you’re such a minx a-ahhh fuck ‘m coming” light spurts of cum paint all over your boobs and neck, he jaw going slack, her body shudders.

you can’t help but stick your tongue out for her. nearly touching her reddened head, her eyes locking onto yours as the tangy sweet cum lands on your tongue and cheek.

“now lick it off for me”

© acidblum.

[xtra7s]

over the phone

Summary: Ever since Wanda left for a routine work trip, things have felt off—even compared to previous trips. Things come to a head one day and you can't help but ring her up. Just to talk... well, at first anyway.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, phone sex, dacryphilia, mommy kink, nipple play (is that a tag idk), implied sadomasochism (just a lil bit), remote vibrator, fingering

WC: 3,165

A/N: i know the tags are a little crazier than usual... and the length is double what i normally have. i don't know what happened— hopefully someone is into this though

"Detka? Are you there?"

The phone speaker crackles in the following silence, breaking you out of your stupor.

"Sorry, Wanda. I'm here."

She hums softly on the other side of the line, sounding amused.

"So, why did you call me, sweetheart?"

The honey-sweet words trickle into your ears and you sigh, leaning back against the headboard and fidgeting restlessly with the edge of the duvet.

"Just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice," you respond quietly, hoping that the phone catches it.

Evidently, you're not entirely successful.

"Hmm? Say that again, baby?"

You slump down against the pillow, sliding underneath the covers and turning to the side. The phone finds its way between your hands, still on speaker, and you cradle it closer to your face, staring unblinking at the caller ID screen as you repeat yourself.

Wanda chuckles softly, and the phone slides out of your loose grasp. You melt into the mattress before reaching out to readjust the phone until it's in place again.

"I missed you too, detka. What have you been up to today?"

You hum softly, squeezing a second pillow between your arms as you think over your response.

"Not much. I went out and bought groceries. Nothing special. Everything feels so stale without you here," you lament.

A soft huff of breath crackles through the speakers.

"I'll be back soon, detka. I'm only here for one more day, I promise."

You sigh and turn onto your back again, hugging the pillow tighter.

"I just miss you so much."

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

The soft warmth spreading in your chest is all-too-eager to branch as far as it can go, and a low ache settles at the bottom of your stomach. Wanda's voice has always been a weak spot for you, and even through crackling phone speakers that hasn't changed.

"Miss you in all the ways," you murmur, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of your need.

Wanda coos softly, but doesn't say anything further. As her raspy voice echoes through the speaker, tears spring to your eyes. It hurts to miss someone this much. You've never had much issue with Wanda leaving before. It's not like you don't understand that she's busy.

But for some reason, this time has felt different from all the others. Your everyday life feels emptier, hollow, surreal. Without Wanda to anchor you down, you feel like you're a phantom, coasting on muscle memory to get through the day until you can get in bed and dream of green eyes.

"Wish you could just come home already," you whine, trying to tamp down your rising emotions.

"Detka," Wanda murmurs. "It's okay. I'm here. Stay with me, okay? Mommy's here."

You battle with your conflicting desires, desperation and desire coursing through your veins in equal measure. You flip back onto your side again, clutching the phone like a lifeline, thumbs pressed into the screen as if that will somehow bring you closer to Wanda.

"Mommy," you whisper back, taking solace in the title as your breathing evens out again.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm here," Wanda reassures.

Lust roars to life suddenly and you squeeze your thighs together, mind blank as Wanda's soft voice washes over you.

"Mommy," you whisper again, heavier this time, weighted down by desire.

"My baby," she murmurs in response, low and firm.

"Need you. Please." You've been reduced to short phrases already, finally letting your mind take a backseat and just letting yourself feel.

"What do you need from mommy, detka?"

"Want mommy, please. Want to hear— want…" you can't find the right words, overwhelmed by just how much you need Wanda in this moment. You just need her, need to anchor yourself.

Luckily, Wanda understands what you're asking for all too well.

"You want mommy to tell you what to do? Is that it, detka?"

You nod limply, before realizing Wanda can't see you.

"Mhmm," you hum into the screen instead, fingers still digging into the phone case as you pull it even closer.

"How badly do you need it, sweetheart?"

Wanda's voice is teasing, and you can hear shuffling on the other side of the line then the click of a door locking.

"Need you so bad, please mommy." The words tumble out in a rushed mess, but at this point you can hardly bear to think of this phone call ending in anything other than an orgasm.

Wanda chuckles again.

"You're so lovely for me, detka. So needy. So sweet. You know what mommy would do to you if she could be there with you?"

You shiver, pillow long-forgotten as you clutch the phone between your fingers.

"I would take it so slow, sweetheart. Draw it out a little bit, just tug down the top of your shirt and play with your pretty little nipples until you're squirming and crying."

Wanda sounds delighted; you can hear the smile in her voice as she describes how she would touch you.

"Just softly at first, only the best for my baby. I'd use my mouth and tongue, and then when you're squirming for more, mommy would use her fingers to pinch and squeeze and roll. The way you like it, baby," she hums, and you shiver again.

"Can you do that for mommy, sweetheart? Can you pinch your pretty nipples for her?"

You whine high in your throat, listening to the way Wanda laughs softly through the phone.

"Mommy," you whimper, tugging your tank top down and setting down the phone next to your head. You know exactly what Wanda means, and you pinch and squeeze, rolling your own nipples roughly between the pads of your fingers, the way you know Wanda always does, the way you like it.

"Oh god, mommy—" the moan gets caught in the back of your throat, coming out choked as bolts of white-hot electricity course up your spine.

"You're doing so good for me, detka," she coos, and you sob desperately, already overwhelmed.

"Just keep it up for me, sweetheart. I want to hear you cry."

You acquiesce obediently, squeezing your nipples until they're swelling, reddened by the abuse, until you can feel tears welling up and spilling over. Wanda keeps whispering soft encouragements through the speaker even as you pant and moan, broken only by soft sobbing and crying.

It never surprised you, but you're sure anyone else in the neighborhood who knows Wanda would be startled to discover her sadistic streak. She's always liked seeing you cry, and it only helps that you like it when she makes you hurt—when she tears you apart and builds you back up again.

"Mommy," you whimper again, a broken noise that makes Wanda moan softly on the other end of the line.

"Oh, detka, you sound so pretty," she coos, enjoyment sparkling in her voice.

"Please," you beg, shivering and shaking with every new jolt of sensation.

"Mmh, good girl," she murmurs. "You can stop now, just for a little bit."

You moan with relief as you're finally given permission to pull your hands away from your chest.

"And then mommy would touch you lower, wouldn't she? You know how mommy likes you, baby. Legs tucked up against your chest so you're nice and open for mommy. Go ahead, sweetheart, why don't you start now, hm?"

You pant softly as your pull your own legs up and apart, kicking off the duvet and whimpering when cold air meets your sticky cunt.

"Mommy would start slow, just keep you spread open with her fingers, and just watch. Wait until you're squirming and wiggling before she touches you. Just keep yourself open, baby, you can listen to how mommy wants to touch you first. No touching yet."

You hum and abide by her rules, reaching down only to spread yourself even further apart, shivering as you imagine Wanda's lazer-sharp gaze on your spread cunt.

"And then mommy would touch you so softly, just gently rub with her fingers where you're nice and open for mommy. Never inside, just right outside, where your pretty cunt opens up for mommy."

You shiver as you imagine the sensation, all-too-familiar with how it feels.

"Do you think you could ever come like that, baby? With mommy's mouth on your nipples and her fingers rubbing your cunt just like that?"

Wanda moans softly at her own words, and you whimper loudly into the speaker. It sounds torturous and delicious all in the same.

"Hmm, maybe once mommy gets home," she murmurs. "How's my detka feeling now, hm? Are you being a good girl? You're not touching yourself, are you?"

Her words are edged with danger.

"No, mommy. I'm being good. Not touching myself. Keeping myself spread open with my fingers, just like mommy would," you profess earnestly.

Wanda hums thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you baby?"

"Promise I'm being honest, mommy."

Wanda coos softly, reassured.

"Good girl, detka."

You moan softly in the back of your throat. Without realizing it, you've started rocking your hips against the empty air, searching for more stimulation.

"Now where were we? Ah, right, mommy would rub your pretty cunt until you're crying again, and then keep rubbing. Just until she's satisfied. You'd have to be a good girl and beg for more. Beg for mommy's fingers."

"Please," you moan. "Please, mommy, please." Mindless even though you haven't even begun to touch yourself.

"You can touch yourself now, baby," she coos gently. "Just like mommy said, okay? Don't go inside just yet. Just outside. Nice and soft."

You agree quietly, letting go of where you're stretching yourself open to reach down further. You take your index and middle fingers and begin to rub in careful circles, moaning at the touch.

You've heard about this before, know just how many nerve endings exist in just this region, and it feels like you're on fire. Desperation seizes you. You want more. You want so badly to feel full, to come already, but Wanda hasn't given you permission to do anything beyond this, and you're nothing if not a good girl for her.

"Good girl," Wanda hums, and then continues to describe more, dropping her voice torturously low as she paints new visuals through the speaker.

"And then mommy would press inside, so so slow, bit by bit until you're all filled up. But as soon as mommy's inside, she'd pull right back out, all the way. Rub your pretty little clit with those same fingers until you're crying again, so close, and then stop. Once you're calmed down, mommy would do it again, and again, and again. Over and over."

"Mommy," you sob desperately. "Mommy, please."

Wanda hums softly, but doesn't acknowledge your pleas.

"You don't have to do it so many times tonight, baby. Just a couple. Just so mommy can hear you cry again. And then mommy wants you to go get your vibrator. Mommy will make you come like that, okay?"

You shiver and gasp as you continue to work yourself up.

"Yes, mommy. Please, mommy."

Wanda seems to be feeling merciful tonight, because she doesn't wait very long.

"You can go in now, detka. Just like mommy said, okay? Nice and slow."

You nod eagerly, forgetting Wanda can't see you, and begin to nudge your fingers inside, torturously slow, exactly the way Wanda has so many dozens of times in the past.

The stretch burns, just a little bit, even with how slick you are, and you moan into the speaker. It takes nearly a full minute just to seat your fingers in completely, and you sigh as you clench down, finally feeling full.

"Pull out, baby," Wanda orders firmly.

You whine, crying out in disappointment, but you don't disobey.

"Mommy," you beg, even as you pull back out completely, leaving your cunt empty and needy again.

"No, baby. Not yet. Be good for mommy. Now you have to rub your pretty little clit. Soft. Gentle. Mommy wants you to edge yourself three times, okay? She can count for you, baby." Wanda's breathing sounds labored on the other side of the line, and you briefly have time to think about whether or not she's touching herself, too.

Then your fingers are on your clit and your thoughts wash away again.

You rub just as she instructed. Slowly, gently, cautiously. Just enough to slowly build you up to an orgasm. Never enough to tip you over. Desire throbs low and slow in your stomach, but Wanda's low voice keeps your orgasm at bay. Slower. Lighter. Hold it.

Soon enough, her voice is all you can think about. It replaces the voice in your own head, guiding every movement of every part of your body. No coming. Never coming. Just rubbing, slowly.

When you whimper a little too loud into the speaker, Wanda makes you stop. Pulling your hand away feels like hell, but you do it anyway. When your breathing settles to an acceptable degree—Wanda makes you hold the phone up to your mouth until you stop panting—she has you start again.

Slow and steady. Stretching yourself open with two fingers until you're spreading around your knuckles, and then out and away. And then once again, rubbing your clit until you can feel just how empty you are, clenching down around nothing. The tears well up this time, and Wanda coos softly when you hiccup soft sobs into the phone.

She still makes you stop.

"That's two, detka. Just one more. One more. You can do it, can't you?"

You nod limply, fingers seated deep inside your cunt. It feels glorious, to be full just for this one moment, walls fluttering around something until Wanda orders you to pull them back out, and then you're hollow again, incomplete.

This time, she has you rub even longer, twice as long as you had to before. She makes you pause whenever your breathing speeds to much, or you moan too loud. She tells you to keep your fingers on your clit no matter what, even if you're paused, just to feel the way it throbs underneath your fingertips.

When it does, she asks you to count each pulse out loud, to tell her exactly how much you need her, how much you need more.

"Okay, baby, you can stop now," she orders, after making you count for the fifth time.

"Get your vibrator, sweetheart. Press it in as far as it will go, okay?"

You reach over to the bedside table, fumbling with the drawer until you find the small vibe, sucking on the tip for only a moment before you're eagerly cramming it into your cunt. It feels heavenly, to finally have something inside again, and you moan softly.

"Good girl," Wanda coos from the phone, and you feel the way the vibrator comes to life.

It's slow, probably at the lowest setting, but you're still grateful for the way the vibrations pulse outward, rippling through your nerves deliciously.

"Oh, sweetheart," Wanda murmurs. "You've been so good for mommy today. So sweet. So obedient. Do you want to come?"

You whine eagerly, half-sentences forming in your throat.

"Please, mommy, please. Want. Wanna come. Please."

Wanda chuckles softly, and the vibrator jacks up to the highest setting. You sob gratefully into the phone, your entire body shivering as pleasure finally floods into you.

"Whenever you want, detka," she hums.

The orgasm is aggressive, fast, overpowering. It crashes through your entire body, your toes curling and back arching as all the tension you've built up for the past hour is finally released.

But even after you've come down, panting loudly into the speaker, Wanda doesn't stop the vibrator. She lets it run, still thrumming harshly deep inside of you, until you're tipped over into a second orgasm. The second orgasm is just a tinge of painful, but that ache quickly bleeds into euphoria again.

When she still doesn't stop, you begin to beg, pleading incoherently with Wanda to turn down the vibrator, to stop completely.

Wanda gives no indication at all that she's heard you.

The third orgasm is an all-consuming heatwave, burning through every raw nerve ending as your entire body is left twitching in the aftermath. The fourth and fifth completely remove all sense of coherency and reality from you. Even still, the vibrator keeps buzzing away, tucked deep in your cunt. Wanda murmurs the whole way through, reassurances sweet in her mouth.

She still doesn't stop, though, even when you've lost your voice from how much you've moaned and cried through each orgasm.

You don't even know how many times you actually come. At least 7 times, you think. When she finally turns the vibrator off, you're a complete mess, drenched in sweat and tears, your thighs coated in sticky arousal and come.

"You're okay, detka," she murmurs through the phone.

"You've been so lovely for me. Can you do just one more, baby? Just one more? Mommy wants to hear another one, pretty please?"

You whimper hoarsely, already overstimulated beyond belief, but it doesn't even matter, because the vibrator is buzzing to life yet again.

"Just one more, sweetheart. You can do it. Mommy knows you can. You're so good for me."

You manage to choke out a moan as pleasure builds in your gut yet again, aching and burning. It hurts, but it also feels euphoric.

"Be a darling and rub your clit for mommy, okay? Nice and hard, baby."

You cry out when you do, fingers pressed into your clit as you nudge along another orgasm. It's all too much, but Wanda only turns the vibrator higher. All of a sudden, the orgasm crashes through you, and you shudder one last time, squeezing down on the pulsing vibrator inside you.

You cry out unintelligibly, and Wanda turns the vibrator down, letting you ride out your final orgasm before shutting it off.

"Such a good girl for me, detka," she coos softly. "You're so lovely for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

You hum into the phone, listening to the way it crackles with sound. You have half a mind to pull the vibrator back out and you leave it on the nightstand, but your uncooperative legs won't let you stand, let alone walk to the bathroom to clean up.

"It's okay, baby. You can go to sleep now. Mommy will be back in no time, okay?"

"Love you, Wanda," you murmur, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion.

As you drift off, vision swimming and blurring, you hear Wanda's honeyed voice come through the speakers again.

"Love you too, detka."

Slipping away into dreamland, you're met with the same dream as you have been for days now. When you're met with green eyes and red hair this time, you no longer feel so hollow—instead, warmth floods through you. The world around the two of you takes shape, changes colors, blissful and bright.

Wanda's eyes sparkle as she laughs at you, tugging you along to nowhere in particular, and you find yourself smiling—genuine and full.

[xtra7s]

cait making u get off on her boot while shes busy doing whatever tf 🤭🤭🤭

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN / FEM READER

warnings: clit stim (with boot), humiliation kink, dom cait + sub afab reader.

Caitlyn gives you a lot of attention. You feel lucky to spend your nights wrapped up in her arms or underneath her.

With that, however, comes a bit of entitlement. You don't mean to be spoiled. You don't even realize that sometimes, you ask for her at times you shouldn't. Especially now, as you walk into her study, hoping to claim your seat on her lap and feel her hands on you.

Instead, she hardly looks up at you as she mutters out, "I'm busy, darling."

"You're..busy?" You ask, as if the concept of your commander girlfriend actually having work to do is completely foreign.

"Yes. Plenty of enforcers patrolling areas we've got covered, so I have to assign them to new necessary spots." She informs you, breaking her attention to glance up.

"Right. Sorry." But before you can turn away, her hand wraps around your wrist.

"Did I say I wasn't going to take care of you, dear?" Her smile is almost playful, and it makes your head spin on its axis.

"But, you're busy-"

Caitlyn taps your ankle with her boot, giving you a smile as if to challenge you. Are you so desperate that you'll use my boot to cum?

Yeah, you definitely are.

"Cait.." Breathy and a bit humiliated, you grasp her thigh. You get no response in return, your girlfriend busy with things she explained to you previously, something about enforcers and blah blah blah. You can't remember now. You'd never admit it to her, but that turns you on even more-not that she needs to be told. She senses it in the way your nails dig into her skin, leaving crescent marks for her to scold you for later.

Your wetness seeps through your cotton panties, rubbing onto the tip of her boot at each swipe. Caitlyn doesn't tell you to stop nor encourage you, as she seems to actually have found her focus in her work while you get off.

Each shift of your hips, back and forth, sends sparks of pleasure through you. Though your body craves the heat of her palms caressing your hips and the the feeling of her stretching you open, tormenting you as she fills you, this feels nice. It isn't the action itself that will make you cum, and she knows that. It's the thrilling humiliation.

"Please, I need to cum. I'm gonna cum." You whimper, humping against the polished leather at a frantic pace. You one of your cheeks, dark with embarrassment, presses against her kneecap as you move.

"Keep it down, or I won't fuck you tonight." Caitlyn threatens you, though her tone isn't scolding. It's actually the opposite: calm. It makes your tummy flutter, and your clit twitch even more so than if she were scathing.

"Mhmm.." You moan out, though you muffle it with your front teeth against your bottom lip. You are so close to cumming, but you don't know if simply riding Caitlyn's boot will be enough to send you over.

A sudden shift as she adjusts in her seat, and it positions the tip of her boot snug against your clit. You pick up the pace and fall over.

You nuzzle your mouth against her skin as your orgasm causes you to rut against her like you're in heat. You crave being able to moan her name, but part of the game is staying quiet so that she will call you a good girl after. You end up distracting her more as the vibrations of your muffled whines and whimpers travel through her leg, temporarily putting a pause on her focus.

When you recover from your orgasm, you simply rest against her for a few minutes. You always feel clingy after Caitlyn has made you cum, so you can't help yourself. You begin planting kisses all over her thighs, hoping to convince her that you're a good girl who deserves to taste the wetness you know she has currently.

Instead, your head is pulled back, and Caitlyn only has one final order for you.

"Go wait for me in the bedroom."

[xtra7s]

🥎 ❀ HOMERUN DEAL

analysis. its the first game of your season and you were a nervous wreck the entire time. Close enough to quitting, your softball coach had pulled you to the side and offered you a bargain if you were to snap your head into the game and win.

pairing. softball coach!natasha x player!reader

warnings. MINORS DNI | Smut. Legal age gap (N is late thirties, R is early twenties), strap-on (R receiving), daddy kink, possessive nat, mean nat (if you squint), teasing, semi-public sex (almost got caught, in office), degradation, praising, dirty talk.

wc. 4.8k

authors note. the games begin, in the series and between me and a fellow friend 😼😼 — expect more coming soon. @thewidowsledger im ringing the dinner bell come here

taglist. @idkwhatever580

⧗

Monday mornings were never your favorite, who even enjoyed them anyways? Tomorrow is going to be the first softball game of the season after a week of practice and a week of you fawning over your coach, and it was clear your teammates noticed. You walked into your building with a empty cup of coffee that was sloppily made from the starbucks worker, and you didn’t even have the time to open your mouth and complain due to Kate wanting to meet up early and gossip in the parking lot. You remind yourself of the message you got in the morning before you woke, the familiar image of the redhead had filled your mind as she reminded you to go to her office in the morning to go over plans and to understand your point of view more on who should play where.

You walked through the halls, ensuring your shoes dragged amongst the floor, squeaking in complaint just like you were twenty minutes earlier to the black haired girl you adored. The sound of a door opening, the metal hinges silently groaned as the raspy yet teasing voice announced, “L/N, stop dragging your feet down the hall, come on in,” Turning your head to see the opened door with the woman herself standing in the doorway, taking in her outfit, the wide-legged black dress pants had perfectly fit her waist with the white blouse as her top. You tried to focus on the redhead's face rather than Natasha’s soft colored skin and curves, noticing the soft smile on her face as she lured you into the trap of her office as you stepped into the office. Ensuring to lift your feet to prevent the obnoxious noise. Hearing the door close behind you and the feeling of a hand brushing against your lower back as she gestured for you to sit across from her seat behind the desk. You hesitated at first, before you felt her lean in behind you as her lips brushed against your ear. Is this a teasing way? Was she just playing with you, fighting the blush on your cheeks as she softly mused out, “Come on, we have plenty of time for you and me to discuss the game plan tomorrow,”

“Right, uhm, what are you thinking?” You tried to hide your nerves as you asked your coach what her plans were, watching as the redhead had ensured to sit across from you looking into your eyes as soon as you looked up to meet hers with that smirk plastered on her lips before she turned to look at her computer screen and explain her thoughts.

“Well, I thought I could place Brooke at third with you at short. Kate pitching with Carol catching,” She confidently stated out as she looked over the positions, her eyes trailed over as your brows creased and a small frown found your face and you spoke up.

“No, swap me and Brooke. She plays at short usually while me at third, that’s been our dynamic for years,” you had explained softly, mind hazy as all you could think about was Natasha’s arms. Seeing them lean against the desk to look closer at you before she hummed softly, adjusting the positions, another suggestion fell off your lips, “You’ll want to have Maria warm up as well, if Kate goes for too long in an inning she’ll get in her head and it won’t work for any of us,”

She quirked a brow, a soft smirk playing on her lips as she nodded, “Abby at second right? Then we bring Wanda in center, Anna in right and Karlie in left,”

You nodded quickly at the redheads statement for the rest of the positions, your eyes flicked to the screen as your coach turned it around so you’d get a look at the batting line up. You were batting third, wincing a bit but hiding it quickly as you nodded, “seems good to me,”

The redhead smiled softly at you, green eyes twinkling before she pulled her laptop back and shut it, her focus going solely on you which had the butterflies in your stomach churning. Swallowing, you also mumbled out meekly, “is there anything you need me to tell the team, such as signs, specific things or plays you want?”

“No, I think I can have it handled,” Natasha responded softly before spinning her chair and standing up, the aroma of coffee filling the office air as your eyes took in how your coach had a coffee machine in her office. Surprise filled your orbs, she turned back as she got two mugs, “do you want a cup? I made a little too much,”

“Yeah sure,” You agreed, “lots of sugar if you have it, creamer too,” 

“Ooh, you like it sweet? Does that explain how sweet you are?” She teased lightly, a brow quirking as she poured you a cup. Pouring a scoop of sugar in and then creamer, surprisingly enough to suit your taste as she stirred it and handed it to you. Flushing as your eyes found your feet, muttering a small thanks and taking the cup gracefully.

“You seem tired malyshka, how much sleep did you get?” Your coach asked softly, pouring herself a cup and having a scoop of sugar before mixing it in well enough as she sat down in front of you again. Taking a sip as you tried to comprehend how black the woman liked her coffee. Calculating the hours of sleep, you weren’t as tired as you were anymore, too busy ranting on call with Kate while playing stupid games or doing assignments. Yet somehow it took a toll on you last night, actually trying to go to bed early but all you could do was stare at the ceiling and hope that sleep would take you. Sleeping medication, such as melatonin, didn’t work anymore due to early years of you being unable to sleep and overtaking it to where the medicine didn’t have an effect on you anymore.

“Err, about six hours, I was up finishing a report for one of my minor classes,” You meekly admitted, you had easily lied to teachers before. A bat of your eyes with a soft plea that your cat had gone missing due to her being a minx and you were worried too much to work on schoolwork because that cat was the last thing you had with a resemblance of your mother. Your cat is in fact with your mother, who lives in a separate state, who you never talked to after you declared that it was your time for independence and that you can go through with your dreams. You still regret it, it’s one of the things that has your mind reeling at night with a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt.

Your mind wandered enough for Natasha to see the haze in your eyes, she cleared her throat as her raspy yet soft voice slightly scolded in concern, “you need eight hours honey, that’s not healthy especially when you play a sport like this. I need you up and running tomorrow, okay?”

Your eyes lifted, a slight nod had bobbed at her words as you took a sip from the mug she handed you. Nose scrunching as you considered her words, a meek thanks leaving your lips as you felt the scorching liquid torment your tastebuds before you swallowed it down your esophagus. You swore you’d take coffee out of your mornings after you spazzed out one day in highschool, hands too shaky for writing and you broke your personal school chromebook that had your dad in your ear about having to pay for it and your mom yelling at him and defending you quickly. 

“I plan on going to bed earlier tonight, Kate’s working so I can’t call her. I have nothing due for my classes either so I’m free,” You reassured your coach, a shy smile finding your features as your eyes softened slightly from the tension and exhaustion as you looked at the redhead who gave you a smile in return.

“That’s good, I hope you don’t mind but I contacted your first classes professor about you not being there for us discussing plans,” She informed you, a hum left her throat, “if you want you can stay here and rest, I’m not doing anything special but scheduling more games. The couch there is open if you want to nap,” 

Your eyes widened at her gesture, astonished at the generosity before you nodded quickly. Taking a moment to think before opening your phone to check the time, at least two hours, you’ll be able to last. A hoarse rasp left your throat from the hot liquid and tiredness, “thank you coach, I’ll be out of here five minutes before first period is done, I’ll set an alarm,”

As you stood to go lay down on the couch. You settled yourself, head resting on the arm as you were about to set an alarm on your phone as movement caught your eyes. Natasha waved it off as she offered with a hum, “don’t worry about it, I can wake you up, just get your beauty sleep malyshka. That’s all I need,”

A simple nod against the fabric was enough to indicate you trusted Natasha to wake you up, a small smile found her face as she was finally gaining your trust. Noting how your breathing faded to something soft you fell asleep, a small sigh left her lips. Finding ways to get you to rest was hard, exhausting you at practice as she made you run drills harshly weren’t enough. Maybe the gentle approach was better, all she knew is that she was getting closer to you. That’s all she wanted, and she found a suspicion that’s what you wanted too.

—

You fought with the belt buckle to hold your pants up, to tie the outfit together. Black jeseries with red pin stripes with black pants, white socks and the white belt that is struggling to close around your hips. Finally snapping it down as you sighed, you had your hair bubble braided and you stood in front of the mirror in the athletic locker room. Eyes fixing in on your form before a sudden whistle left someone’s lips and you saw the familiar raven colored hair stood beside you.

“Your ass is fat, what happened to the pants? Or did you just randomly grow,” Kate teased, hand grazing your shoulder before she moved to put her hair up in a lazy bun. Your eyes gave the infamous mom glare as you sighed, you were pretty sure you were given the wrong size in pants. First time wearing them, and you had planned to take a trip to Natasha’s office after the game to ask if you can swap pants with how tight they were. A small squeeze in your lower abdomen was there for pressure in your breathing, but it wasn’t fatal yet.

“The pants are a size too small, I plan on going to coaches office after the game to ask for a swap,” You shared the game-plan about your pants with Kate, letting out a soft grumble as she quirked a brow as a teasing giggle left her throat, “maybe coach picked you a size smaller on purpose,”

A smack was emitted from where you were at, you had slapped her bicep with another glare that could kill as the girl put her arms up in defeat, “Joking! I was joking, gosh! Who’s got your panties rolled up?”

You sensed there was a second part Kate wanted to share with that final sentence but luckily the girl was smart enough to not push it anymore. You hauled your softball bag over your shoulder and clapped her on the shoulder with a rough, “Let’s get going, maybe I’ll make you run an extra lap for warmups to put your head in the game,”

“Yeah while you have your head somewhere else,” Kate rolled her eyes and she was lucky she was a few distances behind you as you hissed out her last name in a scolding manner. Walking down the cement path towards the fields as you hauled a bucket of balls while Kate follows behind you like a lost puppy.

“Come on, let’s get our head in the game,”

—

Your head wasn’t in the game. You didn’t know what was happening, you have been struggling to field a simple ground ball and you have bobbled it everytime it got into your mitt and you overthrowed it or was too late. When you were up to bat you could barely hit, it was a slow pitcher which you absolutely hated on waiting for and you fouled it many more times than it went into play. When it went into play? It was dead, dying in the dirt as quick as it hit it and you were thrown out every time you ran through the bag. Your ribs were aching, pants too tight as you struggled to breathe as water dribbled down your chin, sweating profusely as you sat in the corner every time you were in the dugout for being on the offensive side while your teammates hit.

Natasha stood at third base every inning when your team was hitting, when your team was on the field she sat on her bucket giving signals to the catcher and pushing her face into the clipboard everytime a mistake was made. You grimaced every time when you saw the sweaty redhead cringe and you felt the wave of disappointment.

It was the last inning, the last at bat and the score was tied. 6-6, you were on deck and you swung the bat lazily to try and warm yourself up. Try and shake out the jitters, the bat cracked from Kate and went flying to rightfield. Bases were loaded, and a time was called as the other coach ran to the pitchers mound for some type of talk.

A hand found your shoulder, dragging you to the third base area away from earshot as Natasha pulled you back and her slender hands gripped the mask of your helmet, “what’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know, coach I can’t do—,” A jerk forward from the helmet brought you insanely closer to the redhead, piercing green irises staring into yours as she finished your sentence, “you can do this Y/N, stop doubting yourself. You can hit off of her easily, just a small one over the fence and we win. Just time up your load carefully, don’t lunge, and don’t roll your wrists,”

You stared hopelessly into the redheads eyes, how can Natasha give this advice so simply? Cheeks flushed at how your coach was so close as Natasha ever so slightly leaned in and deviously, yet quietly bargained, “you hit a home run over that fence and I’ll take you in my office and fuck you,”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape at the offer, well bargain she handed you. She was your coach and she just offered you sex for a home run? Biting your bottom lip as you blinked before she added on, “I’ve seen the looks you give me, you can’t deny it princess,”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take it but what happens if I don’t?” As soon as you asked the umpire asked—yelled—for you to come up to the plate. Swallowing as the redhead’s eyes darkened before she patted the helmet you wore and you traipsed up to the batter’s plate. 

Stepping into the box, you watched the pitcher wind up and throw a ball right over your head. Steadily breathing out as you stepped out to look over at your coach. No signs, she meant the words she said. Stepping back in and swinging your bat against your cleats like the ritual you do every time you go up to bat. 

Wind up, load back, and you swung your arms forth. The sound of the ball hitting the bat cracked over the field and you dropped it and ran. Watching the baserunners start running, your assistant coach pumped their arms to signal you to turn and go to second. You pumped your legs faster, puffing slightly as you suddenly heard clapping. It was a good hit but was it enough for the spectators to clap. You turned your head to see Natasha clapping as well, a smile on the redhead’s face as you noticed the fielders moved to the side. 

You made it to three and kept running, finally recognizing the fact you hit the ball over the fence. Your team rushed out of the dugout to congratulate you, as soon as you stepped on home plate your thighs were grabbed and you were hauled up as they lifted you and cheered. The yell of game over had everyone dancing in enthusiasm, as soon as you were set down on the dirt you lined up and high-fived the other team with your squeaky mumbles of good game.

—

“There could’ve been a lot of improvement, but it was a good first game,” Natasha spoke as she stood, you and your teammates were sat in the grass in leftfield and listened to her advice for how the game went and her overlook, “you guys make a great team, but if you keep getting in your heads like that and keep on making mistakes we’ll never learn and we will lose every game, luckily Y/N hit that grand slam for us,”

You felt a few hands clap your shoulders, hair down as you were tired and didn’t want to wait until home to take the amount of mini rubber bands out. You were unable to process the congratulations still on how you managed to hit it over the fence as your eyes slightly peered up to look at the redhead, she was quiet for a second before adding on, “rake the fields, put everything away,”

Standing up, you went to go help the teammates go pick up, blinking for a moment before a harsh order came out in the night air, “Not you Y/N, my office, now,”

You swallowed, watching your coach walk past you and you ducked your head and followed Natasha like a lost puppy as confused looks found your teammates faces. It felt like hours walking to the building of your school, watching the redhead open the doors for you and place a hand on your shoulder to guide you to her office.

Door hinges opened with a small creaking in protest, walking in first before two hands grabbed your waist and the door was shut. Hands moving to fumble with the lock of the office door as Natasha’s head pushed into the crevice of your neck as sloppy, wet kisses were littered across your skin. Hands finding her hair and a hopeless whimper left your throat as she kept you pinned against the door as the handle dug painfully into your lower spine.

“Didn’t believe me when I offered you this huh malyshka? Trust me, daddy keeps her promises,” the huskiness of Natasha’s voice sent a throbbing ache between your legs as you mewled as her teeth gently sunk into your throat before the warm muscle of Natasha’s tongue soothed the mark.

“Tell me what you want baby, what does the little winner want from daddy, hmm?” She cooed out mockingly, pulling her head back with a wicked grin on her facial features. A calloused hand grabbing your chin to make you look at her, unable to form a single thought in your head with words. Your body moved on its own, hips thrusting forward against the redheads hip. Hand leaving your face to grip your waist and pushed you back.

“Uh uh, tell daddy what you want or you’re not going to get what you want and I’ll decide for you,” She tutted, a mocking pout finding her perfect lips as she leaned in and pressed a kiss against your pretty lips, teeth gnashing down on your bottom lip as you moaned out. Tongue pushing way into your mouth before she pulled back, leaving you wanting and chasing her lips.

“Want you, please,” You softly whined, hands gripping the redheads coaching shirt as a brow quirked. Her hand moving to unbutton your jersey, fingernails tracing the shape of your bra as she taunted, “what part of me my dear?”

You flushed, swallowing as you grabbed Natasha by the waist and pulled her closer. Smashing your lips into hers and she grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in before flipping you around. She pushed your hair out of the way and pressed her lips to your neck again, teeth biting, sucking, doing all that she can to leave her marks as a hand went down to grope your ass.

“Fuck, these pants really do show your ass, hm? My perfect little baby with the body of a goddess,” She lovingly cooed, pushing your jersey off your body. Unclasping your bra before her hand cupped one of your breasts, fingers rolling over the nipple as you whined out. Softly moaning into the air, “tell me baby, do you wanna ride daddy’s cock? I’m sure that’s a reward you want, or maybe have you bent over my desk as I fuck that pretty pussy until it’s full,”

Her hand from your ass lifted and grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back so you can look into her eyes, “hmm? Too dumb to think now are we? Poor girl,”

She pulled you away from the door, bringing you over to her desk as she kissed you again. Savoring your taste on her lips as you grasped at her shirt again, hands fiddling with the buckle of your belt before undoing it. Her hands shoved your pants and panties down, revealing your throbbing cunt into the cold air and you gasped.

“Such a slut, I’m your coach and you’re getting off with how I treat you,” She scolded, turning your body around as a hand found the spot between your shoulder-blades and pushed you down so you were bent over her desk. Uncaring for the paperwork, she can always print more. Loving how you were bent, hands gripping the wood like it was your lifeline while you were on the tips of your toes, your entrance open and needy as your arousal stuck to your thighs.

“Mmph, daddy please,” You whimpered out, needy enough as you slowly pushed your hips against the desk to get at least some friction until a slap was emitted on the globe of your ass.

“Don’t move,” Came the harsh words from your coach, a whimper left your lips as you blubbered incoherently. Hearing a belt buckle undone, the slide of pants falling down. The feel of silicone against your thigh had you clench in anticipation, the redhead traced her fingers down your spine before she slid the toy inside you. 

Your eyes crossed, unfamiliar with the stretch and as you felt her hips move back slowly anticipation creeped into your veins before a knock was sounding at the door. You froze, Natasha froze. The door was locked, but if someone were to actually peer through the thick glass on the door the silhouettes of you two would be seen.

“Coach, practice is cancelled tomorrow right?” Came the voice of the familiar blonde, Carol was right outside the door and you felt the lump in your throat. A hand moved to grip your throat, squeezing as your breathing restricted, the gruff voice leaving the body who was behind you.

“Yes Carol, practice is cancelled tomorrow. But I have a very important email I’m writing and you just interrupted me. Would you like a one on one practice with me yourself or leave me alone?” The harshness of Natasha’s words had you gush around the strap and she felt it. A smirk finding her plump lips before a quiet ‘yes coach’ was heard and the sound of feet moving down the hall.

Your fingers clawed at the desk, the grip on your throat didn’t loosen and the redhead slammed the toy back into you. The tip right against your cervix as you cried—well tried to—out. 

“Oh baby, you fit my cock so well, such a pretty girl. You like it when I treat you like this, don’t you?” She cooed out softly, pulling her hips back and thrusting in. Molding her body to your back as her hips snapped steadily, thrusting in and out of you as she held you down as to pitifully nodded and moaned out.

“Daddy’s good girl, fuck I should’ve taken you earlier. Your pussy is so addicting,” She moaned out, her hand leaving your throat as a series of moans left your lips. Pressing her lips to your throat as her hand found your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it as you grinded back into your coach.

“Uh, uh, uh,” left your throat, cockdrunk already as your mind grew hazy. A snort left the redhead’s mouth, a soft snicker escaping the older woman’s throat at your lack of thought. 

“Gonna cum,” you softly whined out, walls clenching around the strap on as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten to that familiar feeling. A harsh laugh left the coach, before she pulled the toy out of you and a broken cry left your lips. Tears starting to bubble in your eyes, the hand on your clit moved back to your hip.

“Poor baby, you needed to let go that bad?” She mocked, pulling you up from the desk as she sat down in her office chair, pulling you to straddle her lap and face you. A brow quirked and she gave that devious smirk of hers, “I’m sure you can hold it for daddy, ride my cock malyshka,”

You slid back down onto her cock, head nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you felt the gush of arousal flush out around the faux dick and onto Natasha’s thighs. Hips touching hers, before you slowly started to grind.

“That’s a good girl,” She praised, and a moan left your lips as your speed quickened. Grinding went to lifting your hips and bouncing. Your coach’s hands went to your hips and guided your movements, your breath right against your neck. Panting as you had your nails dig into her clothed shoulder.

“Daddy, feels so good,” You moaned out your praise for how the redhead made you feel. Sniffling out as you felt the tug in your core, blinking heavily as you felt the overstimulation every time your clit brushed against the strap. 

“See how good daddy makes you feel baby, all you needed was a bargain for a good fuck and you do good. Are you that much of a slut Y/N, or is this just for me?” She asked, slowing your pace down as you sobbed out between moans. You thought you were going to be able for release as your reward, and all she is doing is refusing it? As frustrated as you are, you can’t help but moan loudly and love her more.

“All for you daddy, please let me cum, I’ll be your good girl,” You begged, and oh you beg so prettily for her. Softly whimpering, she guided your hips quicker again, feeling that sinking feeling come back as you inhaled sharply.

“Let it go baby, make a mess of daddy’s cock,” She permitted your release, and as soon as the sentence was over you snapped your hips faster and felt the coil snap. Juices flooding out of your entrance and over her dick, ruining Natasha’s dress pants and coating your thigh. You shuddered, movements stopping as you shakily breathed.

Thinking you were done with the hazed mind, it wasn’t until you registered the movement of your hips again that Natasha was moving you again, “daddy too much!”

The complaint left your lips lazily, all the redhead could do was scoff, “it’s not too much, daddy will tell you when it’s too much. Now be quiet and let daddy use you, hmm? Daddy needs to be taken care of too,”

You nodded weakly, not able to defy or complain to the redhead anymore. Letting her move your hips, the pleasure and overstimulation taking over but she had a point, Natasha needed to be taken care of right, it’s what you owed her. It wasn’t until you released two more times, and being covered in Natasha’s release is when she called it. She wanted to talk to you about what happened, but when you slumped against her with your nose scrunched, mouth partially open and eyes closed that she decided to let you rest. She put her pants back on, and then dressed you back up. She knew it wasn’t proper, but could she really resist? She left the building with you in her arms and in the passenger seat of her car. And that was all you remembered when you woke up in her arms the next morning, in her bed, with your face pressed in between her boobs without a care in the world for the responsibilities for the day, maybe this could work out after all.

[xtra7s]

straight friend groups are like: *blonde girl* *chad* *the funny one* *kyle* *brunette girl* *frat boy*

gay friend groups are like: *dead team captain haunting her homoerotic bestie* *depressed butcher* *makeshift doctor turned potential serial killer* *italian with a gun* *unkillable goalie who's been mauled by wolves* *sleepwalking, dirt eating lawyer* *modern day joan of arc* *schizophrenic and prophetic cult leader* *travis*

[xtra7s]

turning into something you are not

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader Summary: You end up on house arrest after Shauna spits in your soup, no thanks to stupid Mari. It's not like you want Shauna Shipman, of all people, to be on your ass. So you come up with the well-thought-out idea of visiting her hut in the middle of the night to apologize. No ulterior motives at all. Smut ensues. note: minors dni. spitting involved.

You eye Shauna anxiously as she walks toward you with the rest of the losers from today's game, something settling heavily in your chest as you realize she's coming straight toward where you're sitting. You curse your luck: of course you would end up getting Shipman to serve your food personally. A part of you wonders if Shauna has done it on purpose, but you decide that it's probably more humiliating for her than it is terrifying for you. 

Just about anything has been setting her off lately, and the throbbing pain from the bite on your hand reminds you succinctly of that. You remember from school just how nasty human bites could be–just how much bacteria is in the human mouth. It would serve you right to die from an infection garnered from Shauna Shipman's mouth after surviving nearly a year in this hellhole. 

Your heartbeat starts to settle as Shauna stops beside you, a broody look on her face that doesn't look any different from normal. That is until she holds the bowl out, making sure you can see her as she spits into your food. You almost gasp, just barely able to keep the reaction from becoming audible.

“Go ahead,” Shauna adds, a dangerous look that almost makes you want to push just to see what she would do. “Just give me a reason.”

You look down at the bowl she sits in front of you in surprise, not expecting her to do something so public. With the way Mari sits forward in her seat, you can already tell that she’s taken notice. Which, arguably, was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you today. You grab the bowl, fully intending on just eating it spit and all, but Mari isn’t going to let that happen.

“What the fuck? Shauna just spit in her food,” Mari points out loudly, drawing the attention of all the other girls. 

God, she was such a shit stirrer. 

Your eyes widen, and you rapidly shake your head at Mari. Almost pleadingly. It doesn't seem to matter if she even notices your protests. Shauna certainly doesn't. Mari keeps grouping you in with her lately. Just because you weren't on Shauna's side doesn't mean you were on Mari's. For fuck’s sake, she was going to get your ass kicked. 

“Jesus Christ. Shauna, did you spit in her food?” Nat asks exasperatedly. 

“What? No,” Shauna lies. 

Someone should tell her she wasn't good at that. You were almost embarrassed for her at how painfully thin her voice sounded. She might as well have just confessed. 

“The fact that you even think I would is insulting.”

“You should eat,” Shauna says quietly, in that soft yet deadly tone of hers. It's more unsettling than if she had actually screamed at you instead. “I worked hard to make it.”

Mari reaches across the table and smacks it out of your hand, leaving you to watch it fall in what feels like slow motion. 

You look down at the ground mournfully. It doesn't even matter that Shauna had spit in it. You were still willing to eat it. It's not like you'd find food anywhere else. How quickly Mari seems to have forgotten that awful winter. 

Shauna immediately tenses up, and her lack of access to Mari across the table means that you're the one who ends up face-first on the ground with a mouthful of dirt and what used to be your dinner. 

“I said eat, bitch,” she hisses in your ear before being pulled off, leaving you to stumble back onto your feet as some of the other girls help you up. Your eyes are wide as you look back at an enraged Shauna Shipman, face smeared with dirt and food. 

You spit dirt out of your mouth absently, trying to get the taste out. All it serves to do is anger Shauna again as she lunges at you, held back only by the grip the other girls have on her as you stumble back and away. You open your mouth to stutter out an apology and an excuse because you really did not need this right now, but the glare Nat gives you silences you before it can come out. 

“I've fucking had it with this shit! Starting tomorrow, you're both on house arrest,” Nat says, glancing between the two of them meaningfully. 

You barely notice Mari storming off, too busy wiping dirt off of your face. 

“You know what?” Nat pauses, looking over at you. “You too, actually.” 

You just sigh. 

How has this become your life?

Locking Shauna away in her hut? She was going to come kill you in your sleep. You wouldn't even see it coming. All your friends would be out looking for you when you went missing and would be completely unaware that Shauna probably fed you to them to hide the evidence. 

You were fucked. 

… 

You wait until you're sure the rest of the girls in your hut have fallen asleep before you creep up and out. Both because you're not technically allowed to leave and because you know they would try to talk you out of what you're sure is a monumentally stupid idea. But it's the best one you've got. 

Show up to Shauna's hut, try to apologize, and probably get roughed up a little. At least it would probably get her off your ass afterward, if you looked pathetic enough. Shauna didn't tend to bother the more passive girls, tending not to find any joy in trying to break their spirits. Maybe if she got it out of her system, then you could sleep soundly for the next few nights before you inevitably pissed her off again.

All you have to do is walk in and try to explain–

Oh shit.

She was already up on her feet and coming toward you before you even managed to take more than a step into her hut, almost like she was waiting for you. Not even just waiting for you. Hoping, probably. What was it she said to you earlier? Just give me a reason. It seems like you’ve definitely done it now.

“Wait–” you try, but Shauna doesn’t care to listen as she lunges out for you. You’re already expecting her fist to make contact with the side of your face, so you’re pleasantly surprised when she just grabs onto your arm.

Shauna holds on tightly to your wrist, her thumb digging in hard enough that a whimper of pain escapes your lips and your knees buckle. The look of sheer glee that crosses her face tells you exactly what she thinks of that little reaction. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, showing up here.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She asks angrily. “You came here in the middle of the night, while I was probably sleeping, to apologize?”

“It sounds stupid now that you say it like that,” you acknowledge with a nervous laugh. Shauna doesn’t laugh with you.

“Why the hell are you here?” She asks again.

“Maybe I wanted to… give you a reason.”

You don’t realize how true the words are until they leave your lips, and the momentary flash of surprise that crosses your face is as genuine as Shauna’s.

“Shauna–” 

“Don't fucking speak to me,” she hisses through gritted teeth, shoving you back into the walls of her shelter hard enough that the whole thing wobbles precariously. 

You look around anxiously, terrified the structure will collapse down on top of you. There's no way that scenario doesn't end with Shauna beating your ass in the wreckage. That's if you were as lucky as Lottie. After what happened last winter, Shauna was more likely to end up serving you for dinner. 

“You're fucking nothing to me,” she continues, stalking toward you. 

You nod quickly, hands held up in some gesture of appeasement that only seems to set Shauna off again as she grabs you by the collar of your shirt to send you sprawling onto the cold, uneven ground as all the air in your lungs rushes out with a pained huff. 

It has been par for the course of what you have been expecting so far. There was something about the look in Shauna's eye that unsettles you, something that you aren't sure you've seen before. You consider just going limp and lying on the ground, but then you remember how many times Shauna had kicked Lottie in the side, and that gets you moving again. 

You start scrambling up onto your knees, but Shauna's too quick for that, settling onto the back of your thigh and pinning your arms behind your back before you manage to get any leverage. 

It's humiliating to be pinned like this, face down in the dirt with your arms held behind your back. You buck your hips frantically trying to get her off, even resorting to try squirming out from under her, but nothing works until you hear her little grunt. 

You still immediately, unsure of what caused it and afraid she's going to hurt you for accidentally kicking her or something. It's not like you're unaware of how vulnerable you are right now, so unprepared to fight back if she decides that she's going to hurt you more. 

“Stupid bitch,” Shauna taunts, sitting firm on your thigh. “Stay fucking still.” She squeezes your wrists painfully in reminder, making you freeze beneath her. 

Slowly, enough that you wonder for a moment if the action was unconscious or not, Shauna rolls her hips down against the back of your thigh. When you don't immediately protest, she tries her luck again, another slow roll like she's testing the waters. 

“Shauna,” you murmur, turning your head to rest your cheek against the dirt as you go limp beneath her. 

It's terrifying to let yourself be so prone on your stomach with Shauna around, knowing she could take advantage of it at any second. But the little sounds that leave her lips and the feeling of just how warm she is above you convince you to let yourself do something reckless. 

How long has it been since you've had this kind of contact? Something not out of necessity or violence. Something out of nothing more than desire. 

How long had it been for her? 

You try to look back at her, but Shauna growls under her breath, and you let your eyes fall back to the side of her hut. She starts humping the back of your thigh in earnest now, her knee bumping into your other leg and forcing it wider to accommodate her stance. It's not questioning, not even tentative. It's a command to move your fucking leg. And you do, without question. 

Back and forth and back and forth until the feeling of her sweatpants rubbing against your thigh turns into a wet glide. Shauna fumbles her grip on your arms, finally wrenching them up to pin them on the ground so she can get a better angle.

She's not trying to muffle her ragged breathing so much as she's trying to stop something louder from coming out. Something needy that girls might be able to hear just one hut over. 

The huts had given you some measure of secrecy that the cabin never could, but there was no real privacy out here. Shauna's hut, the one that belonged only to her, was the closest place you could get. 

There was no doubt in your mind that if Shauna got even a bit louder, then everyone else would know what you were doing. You weren't entirely opposed to the idea. The part of you that would've been horrified to be heard like this died in the plane crash. Now, the thought of everyone knowing you were in here with Shauna was thrilling. Beyond even just the protection that it would give you with the other girls. 

No one wanted to piss off Shauna Shipman. 

You would like to say that the whole thing had been strategic, but you've really stumbled into the whole thing. And that was if you managed to survive the encounter. That was still up in the air. 

She bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, making you cry out even as you try to stifle it. It's like you can feel every individual tooth as it tears into your skin, quickly making you realize how playful that bite on your hand had been in comparison. Shauna grinds her teeth from left to right, making you shudder as it brings tears to your eyes. 

Shauna sounds feral. Fucking you like a wild animal while you're prone on your belly and exposing your neck to a predator. It's enough of a rush for you that you know it must be driving her fucking insane. She pulls away just enough to talk threateningly into your ear. 

“I could kill you, you know,” Shauna says, her voice heavy from exertion. It doesn't seem to slow her hips down any. “Put my knife right through you and tell them you came to my hut and attacked me.“

You tense up at the words, and Shauna moans as it gives her a sturdier surface to grind against. 

Stabbing a person in the back with a thigh soaked with your arousal. The most obvious self-defense case you've ever seen. That, in combination with how obvious she was lying about spitting in your food, almost makes you laugh. But you manage to choke it down with the knowledge that she might actually kill you if you do. 

“Fuck, just like that,” she mutters distractedly, like the threat was already forgotten. 

At a loss for anything better to do when pinned to the floor, you keep your muscles as tense as you can. Shauna doesn’t bite you again, so you decide to take your wins where you can find them. 

Almost unbidden, your eyes fall to the corner of her hut where her knife lies almost inconspicuously. It’s just barely within reach if you could manage to shake her arms long enough to lunge for it, close enough that you could probably manage to reach it with the tips of your fingers. One of the benefits–or downsides, when you share with three other girls–is that almost anything within the huts is in reach.

Despite how distracted she seems, it doesn’t take her long to notice where your attention lies. She laughs against the curve of your shoulder, nipping at the skin almost playfully. If you didn’t know how hard her jaw could snap down, of course.

“Are you thinking about it?” She asks, digging her nails into your wrists. Shauna sounds like she thinks it’s funny.

You don’t answer, knowing there’s no real way to placate her. If you say no she will just call you a liar, if you say yes… Well, you aren’t in a hurry to find out.

“You’re no fun,” she says, almost to herself, but the tense moment passed almost as quickly as it began.

Her teeth graze your jaw again, a promise more than a threat. Shauna doesn’t speed up or slow down, maintaining that steady drag like she has all the time in the world. She’s not threatened. Why would she be? Her breath is coming out quicker now, short little gasps as she nears the edge she’s been chasing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she murmurs, a sigh that sounds suspiciously whiny falling from her lips as her hips slowly come to a stop. You can hear her breathing heavily above you, her hands holding on tightly to the back of your arms.

“Shauna?” You question hesitantly as the silence starts to edge on uncomfortable.

She huffs loudly, the sound sharp with misplaced anger and frustration. You can feel her weight shift on top of you, but she can't seem to find words angry enough to express herself with. Finally, she straightens up to glare down at the back of your head. You can't see her, of course, but you can almost feel her burning anger. 

“Don't fucking move,” she warns. 

Shauna slowly lets go of your arms, watching you like an animal ready to strike as she sits up to fumble her way out of her sweatpants. You don't dare to do more than flex your fingers as you lie in wait. You're afraid to move your arms when her location is up in the air. It could be anywhere, and you've seen how effectively she can gut things. 

“Now you want to be a good listener?” She asks from somewhere behind you. She clearly isn't expecting an answer, but you couldn't help yourself. 

“Shauna, I didn't–”

“And you were doing so good.”

You tense at the words and at the way Shauna starts to enter your field of vision as she moves closer. Her face is just barely visible, her eyes blown in a mix of rage and sheer arousal. For a brief moment you allow yourself the luxury of sneaking a peek down past Jackie's shirt that she hadn't bothered to take off to the bare skin of her thighs. 

But you don't get long to really enjoy the view. 

“Too good to eat my fucking food,” she mutters, leaning closer to press something into your mouth. “Eat this instead.” 

It's dark enough that it takes you a moment to feel out what it is, a blush rising to your cheeks as you realize she's stuffed her panties in your mouth. Your head feels foggy at the realization, almost lightheaded from the experience. Or maybe that was the way you struggled to breathe, every breath short and sharp as you struggled to get your lungs to fully expand. 

Shauna grabs on tightly to your arm, wrenching it around to flip you onto your back like it was nothing. 

You stare up at her dazedly, only to be met by the sight of her fierce glare. As if it was your fault that she couldn't fuck herself properly with the back of your thigh. She settles down into your lap, thighs spread wide to keep you pinned as she leans forward to plant a hand on your shoulder to brace her weight. 

Shauna holds eye contact with you as she spits on the palm of your hand, smirking when you tense in surprise. She brings your hand between her legs, sighing when you make contact. God, is she wet. It shouldn't surprise you with everything that's happened since you entered her hut, but you still find yourself gasping at the warmth of her as you slide two fingers home. 

She clenches around you immediately, like she's just been waiting for it all night. As soon as you start to thrust your fingers, she moves along with them, matching the rhythm the best she can and digging her thumb into your shoulder warningly when she decides she would rather you match hers. It's not like you care, not when you get to watch the way the muscles in her thighs flex with each move. 

You almost forget how to breathe as you look up at her, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses her face faster than she can quench them. It's a subtle thing with how hard she's trying to suppress it, but a little twitch of her mouth is all it takes to give her away when you're scrutinizing her so closely. 

Shauna surrounds you. 

Her weight on top of you, her body so solid and immovable despite the nearly a year you've been starving. Her scent filling the air, the familiar smell of dirt and animal blood and something uniquely Shauna that you've grown so used to in your time in the wilderness. The wet heat of her wrapped around your fingers and pressed against your lap, a warmth that's more than welcome in the chill of the night air. Then there's the taste in your mouth as your tongue brushes the wet fabric of her panties. There's nowhere to go beneath her, pinned as thoroughly as you are. Nothing to think about but her. 

Just how Shauna likes it. 

You can feel even more of the warmth of her pressed against you as she leans forward, body trembling with adrenaline and something else as she seeks out more contact. You have to adjust the angle of your hand, which Shauna doesn't appreciate until she does. Letting out a little sigh as she rolls her hips down. 

“Couldn't just eat. Had to go get me in trouble with her majesty.” 

So it was your fault now? 

“Who the fuck does Nat think she is?” Shauna doesn't wait for an answer, just continues on mockingly, and ignores the way her breath hitches when you curl your fingers. “I don't want to see either of your faces for a week. Or what?”

You hope the question was rhetorical. It would be just like Shauna to gag you and then get pissed you wouldn't answer. 

The continued angry muttering under her breath assuages that fear, but you don't have much time to think on it as Shauna brings a hand to your face. 

There's a glint in her eye that promises nothing but bad things as she brushes her thumb across your lips, slowly plucking the fabric of her panties and pulling them free. You lick your lips nervously, trying to soothe the dryness of your mouth now that they're gone. 

“Open your mouth,” Shauna commands, and you do so with more than a little hesitance. She hooks her thumb over your bottom teeth, just enough to keep your jaw open as she looms over you. Slowly, taking her time so that you have to watch helplessly, she tilts her head down and parts her lips. She doesn’t spit–nothing as simple as that. Instead, she just lets a thin, glistening string of saliva fall from her mouth to land squarely on your tongue. It’s warm and wet and so unbearably intimate.

You jerk away almost instinctively, but Shauna clenches her thighs tightly around your hips and digs her fingers into your jaw to keep you right where she wants you. Her eyes glance down, watching the way her saliva sits on your tongue and mixes with your own.

“Swallow,” she commands, voice sharp. Your cheeks burn red as you do, struggling for a moment to do so with your mouth held so far open.

She nods slowly, this time just spitting into your open. Her head tilts to the side like she’s studying you, and she seems pleased when you swallow without being asked this time.

“Good.” Her voice is low, gravelly in a way that makes you squirm as she traces her thumb across your jaw. ”Now, hold onto this for me.”

This time, as her spit reaches your tongue, you do nothing. You don’t jerk, you don’t flinch, you just keep your mouth open wide as the string of saliva lands. She leans close enough to kiss you, breath brushing hot against your lips, but she just pulls away again with a pleased hum.

You think she might say something else, but all she does is let go of your jaw to press two of her fingers in your mouth. She doesn't push, doesn't even try to choke you like you were prepared for. Just rests the weight of them on your tongue as she watches the way your lips close around them.

Shauna starts riding your fingers in earnest now, fast enough that you struggle to keep up with her. God, could she fucking move. You knew from watching her on the field, and lately from watching her in the chase, but it was something else to witness it while two knuckles deep. 

Her thighs tremble with the effort of it, but a part of you suspects she's still holding back. The squelching sound fills the air, loud and unmistakable in its simplicity. There's no doubt in your mind that everyone knew what you were doing if they hadn't already pieced it together from the sounds leaving Shauna's lips. She wasn't quiet or shy like you might have shamefully imagined her being before the crash. 

It was like the thought of shame never even crossed her mind. 

Maybe after a very public birth and subsequent well-deserved crash out, little things like all of your former teammates knowing you're getting fucked one hut over don't register as much in your mind. 

You can tell by the way she's clenching around your fingers that she's getting close, but if Shauna's aware of it, she doesn't acknowledge it. Even when your thumb presses against her clit to rub quick little circles, the only response you get is a sharp intake of breath as she presses into the touch. 

It's different now that you can watch her start to fall apart. Different now that you're actually participating instead of just letting her use you as a means to an end. You hadn't minded, obviously, but you much prefer to watch the way her eyes slip shut as her head starts to tilt back. 

When Shauna comes, it's violent, thighs snapping around your waist as a loud cry tears itself from her lips. Tears was the right word, as it sounded like it cost Shauna something as it came out. Pride, maybe. Or something else entirely. 

Either way, Shauna looked wrecked as she lazily rode out the last of it–eyes almost black as she stared down at you. 

… 

You stare up at the ceiling of her hut after everything's said and done, slick with sweat and short of breath. Shauna hasn't said anything in a while, just silently rolled off, and laid down. 

Turning on your side, you sneak a glance over at Shauna, whose eyes are already closed. You slowly reach over to rest your arm over her hip, starting to draw it away as Shauna tenses. She grabs at your arm with her hand, saying nothing but not allowing you the chance to pull away. You hold your breath as you scoot closer, but Shauna doesn't comment one way or another. 

That's the closest to an invitation you're going to get. 

[xtra7s]

okay but shauna yelling at misty calling her a psycho as if she didn’t beat lottie half to death, sa’d travis during doomcoming and masturbated to a picture of callie’s boyfriend?? and the way misty’s face fell and she couldn’t even come up with a good rebound?? misty get BEHIND me shauna square UP

[xtra7s]

Cologne | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Natalie shows up at your window. When was the last time she showed up without an agenda? You can't remember.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: smut(afab!reader), angst in my pants

wc: 2440

ao3

TAP

…

TAP TAP TAP

…

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP—

You throw the blinds of the window open, coming face-to-face with a drunken Natalie Scatorccio, her knuckles stilling against the glass pane of your window. 

"Heyyyyyy—" The blonde grins through the window, pulling her hand back to awkwardly wave, "Can I… uh…" She gestures to the window.

You stare blankly at her for a solid fifteen seconds.

"It's three in the morning, Natalie."

Nat makes a face and shrugs in response, "Please?"

With a heavy, reluctant sigh, you unlatch your window, and Nat immediately stumbles into your bedroom, falling face-first onto your carpet. "Really?" You ask flatly, staring down at her, "You reek of smoke and booze, by the way."

She grunts at that, pushing herself off the floor, "Don't I always?" Brushing imaginary dust off the lapel of her leather jacket, she takes stock of your room. "Room looks the same." 

You roll your eyes. "You were here a week ago, Natalie. Of course, it looks the same."

Nat shoots you a glare as she takes off her leather jacket, seemingly making herself at home despite you not offering. "Whatever. My room looks different every night." She throws her jacket onto a desk chair, "I like that yours is… stationary, or whatever." She pauses at the foot of your bed, and you already know what she's here for. You don't have to ask—it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. "It's nice, I guess."

But that catches you off-guard. "What? What do you mean… nice?"

She shrugs, hands in the pockets of her jeans as she glances around your room again, "I dunno. It's, like… nice to have something in my life that isn't constantly changing." The words come out so quietly that you aren't even sure if you've heard them, and you have to blink a few times to make sure you didn't hallucinate.

"Are you saying I'm something in your life that stays the same?"

Nat scowls at that and crosses her arms. "No. I-I'm saying your room stays the same. This is just… you're just…" She sighs, frown ever-present on her face. "Whatever."

"Whatever." You parrot with a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you sit back on the bed, "I'd ask why you were here, but I think I know the answer."

"What? You think I'm only here for the sex? Her lip twitches at the comment, but there's a lack of heat behind her words. Nat knows what this looks like. She isn't blind. She shows up, you two fuck, then she leaves. When you two interact at school, you never talk about what happens behind your bedroom door.

You don't comment on it.

She doesn't comment on it either when moving to stand before you, looking down with a tense jaw. "You still want this, yeah?" Nat asks softly, starkly contrasting how tense she appears right now. "Because we don't—"

You shake your head immediately, fisting your hands into her shirt, "No, no. I didn't say that. I just…" A sigh leaves your lips. You've never been good at saying no to Nat. "Yeah. I want this."

Nat doesn't hesitate at that, leaning down to kiss you, slotting her lips against yours as she moves to sit in your lap. Her mouth is warm, wet, and eager against yours. With her arms wrapping around your neck and fingers tangled into your hair, she grinds herself down against you, chest meeting yours with a sharp gasp.

Your tongue presses into her mouth when her lips part and battles for dominance, a struggle she quickly ends when she pulls back to remove her shirt, leaving her clad in a black sports bra. You'd open your mouth to say something, but she's pulling back completely to discard her pants, and you realise that she has no intention of taking things slow—not that she ever has.

Your clothes are discarded just as quickly as hers are, flying somewhere on your floor, and Nat is finding her way down to your bed and making herself comfortable. "C'mere." She asks breathlessly, reaching out to grab your face and pull it back to hers. 

There's a sense of familiarity behind the kiss, something that only comes with knowing someone as intimately as you know Nat, even if she'd deny it to her dying breath. 

Either way, the kiss is wet and messy, with strings of saliva connecting your lips every time the kiss breaks for a moment. Your knee finds its way between her thighs, pressing against her center, and she doesn't hesitate to grind down against the offering. 

It's a ritual as old as time, and it's a ritual that's become far too familiar the past few months. Your lips leave her mouth to press against her neck, leaving wet kisses across the pale skin as you slide your fingers under the waistband of her panties. Your lips pause in their frantic movement and break into a grin when you feel the slick that's collected in the damp heat. 

"Fuck, you're so wet already." You murmur as your fingers part her folds, exploring for a few moments before coming to circle her clit. "And you're already so sensitive, Nat."

"Just been a while." She grunts out, some sort of excuse for how desperate she seems for your touch, but both of you know she doesn't get this way with anyone else.

"Been a week." A kiss to the side of her neck as your fingers begin to find rhythm, "Not that long, really."

Nat doesn't give a reply to that, knowing her voice would come out far too uneven for a sharp comment. There's no denying how eager she seems for your touch, either. Not with the way her hips cant upwards, chasing the feeling your fingers give her as you begin to rock yourself against her thigh. 

Your lips resume their wet kisses, leaving dark marks that will fade come morning, occasionally stopping to whisper encouragements into her ear about how good she is for you or that she feels so good underneath your fingers. Nat whines with every word of praise you whisper into her ear, and her nails dig gently into your back as she relaxes under you.

Satisfied with yourself, you move the fingers that have been teasing her clit down, your middle finger teasing her entrance for a few moments before sinking into the wet heat.

Nat gasps, back arching off the bed and nails digging further into your back. "Yeah—" She breathes out, "More—"

You click your tongue at that, "Maybe I wanna hear you beg for it, Nat."

The blonde whines and slaps uselessly at your back, but she knows it's futile—you've always been this way with her. The teasing that turns her on to no end, even if she'd never admit it. "Fuck, don't be like this."

A low laugh leaves your lips as your finger sits idle inside her, "No. I think you like it when I act like this." A beat, "Beg."

Nat hesitates, pouting as she strongly debates not begging.

But, much like you, she always gives in. "Please." She whines into your ear, "Please. Please. Fuck, please. I'm begging, baby. Please."

Baby. That stupid fucking name that you never could show any resistance to.

You add your ring finger and begin moving your hand the way you've come to learn she loves. "See, there you go. You're such a good girl, you know that?"

While you might be weak to 'baby,' Nat is powerless to being called a 'good girl.' 

She keens at your praise, nodding rapidly as her breathing comes out in short pants. "Yeah, yeah, thank you—"

You hum, pressing a kiss to the side of her jaw as you grind your palm down against her clit, and your hips begin to rock against her thigh again. "You're welcome, baby."

"Baby." Nat nods, "Baby, baby, baby—" You don't need her to tell you that she's getting close; you can feel it in the way her pussy starts pulsing around your fingers, seemingly trying to draw them in deeper. "Please." She begs, past the point of caring about her humility. 

"No." You shake your head, moving your hips faster and harder against her thigh, "Wait. Wait. I'm… fuck, give me a minute."

The girl whimpers in turn, shaking her head vigorously, "Fuck, I-I can't—"

"You can." You cut her off, palm grinding against her clit again as your fingers brush against her g spot. "You have before, and you will now."

Nat is writhing under you, both pulling away and pushing towards your hand before some sort of fog lifts from her brain, and she realises that she can expedite this process.

Her hand moves to your slick cunt that's been rocking against her thigh and dives her fingers into your folds, fingers quickly finding and circling your clit with reckless abandon.

You groan at the added contact, and your eyes slip shut as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. "Fuck, yeah, Nat. Like that—"

Breathless gasps and pants fill the small room as your fingers continue to fuck in and out of her. Nat's nails bite into your back again, this time hard enough you worry that they'll draw blood. But that's fine—not like it would be the first time it's happened between the two of you.

When Nat's whimpers and whines reach a peak, you finally give her the words she's been seeking for the past two minutes, "Come for me."

And she does. With a whimpered sound you're pretty sure is supposed to be a 'thank you,' she clenches around your fingers and does just as you ask. The sound she makes would probably be called pathetic in any other circumstance, but right now? Well, right now, it might be the hottest thing you've ever heard. 

You follow not long after, hips stuttering against her thigh and a low groan spilling from your lips into the taut skin of her neck.

When both of you come down from that high, you retract your fingers from her and move off her thigh, flopping onto the bed beside her with a grunt.

Then, with some random thought in the back of your head, you press your fingers against her lips, "C'mon." You murmur, "Clean off my fingers for me."

Nat looks at you in shock, genuinely surprised you're asking this when you never have before, but her lips part all the same. Your fingers press against her tongue, and she grabs your wrist while keeping eye contact (despite the furious blush that colours her cheeks) as she proceeds to clean your fingers of the mess she made.

"Good fucking girl." You breathe out in approval, jaw falling slightly slack at the feeling of her tongue sliding between your fingers, cleaning each one thoroughly. 

At the praise, her eyes squeeze shut with a sound you swear is a whimper.

When you pull your hand back, her eyes flutter open, but not before you smear saliva down her neck and the top of her chest. 

"That's gross." She mumbles petulantly, unable to meet your eyes, face still coloured like a tomato. 

"Nah, it's hot." You grin down at her, gently turning her face to look into her eyes. Your expression softens as you see the look in them. "You're leaving." You say quietly, a statement rather than a question.

Nat exhales softly through her nose, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from her face, "I… I need to get back home." She lies, and she's never been a good liar. 

"Yeah." You say quietly, dropping your hand back on the bed. "You… you don't wanna even… stay for another round?" A tense laugh leaves your throat, and Nat frowns uncomfortably. "...you don't wanna stay the night?" You add on as an afterthought, disappointment lacing your tone. 

"You know that's not a good idea." Nat whispers in return, "I… I can't." 

"No." You say, "You won't, Nat. There's a difference."

The blonde's jaw tenses as she sits up on your bed, legs swinging over the edge as she looks for her clothes in the dark. "What does it matter if I won't? We aren't together."

Her words sting, even if they're true, and you watch her get dressed from where you lay on your bed, now feeling far too spacious for just one person. "I… I know." You murmur, "But it would just be nice if—"

"I'm not that type of person." She cuts you off as she pulls her pants up, "I thought you knew that when this started."

You shrink further into yourself, "I just thought that, as friends—"

"With benefits." She cuts you off, "Friends with benefits. Not dating, not 'seeing each other,' just fucking now and then." You swear you can see her walls going up the longer she speaks, "This is just sex, nothing more."

"Nothing more." You repeat, grabbing your own shirt from the floor next to the bed, "Yeah."

For a moment, you think you see her falter, actions slowing as she puts her leather jacket on. Some delusional part of you thinks she'll stay, that she'll leave more than just the scent of her fucking dollar store cologne on your pillows, but it's gone before you have the chance to ruminate on it.

"Yeah." She agrees with a grunt, walking back over to your window. "I'll… see you in class tomorrow." And then she's gone, like a ghost in the night, hopping through your window and onto the grass below with a soft thud, much more graceful than when she came in.

You walk over to your window, locking it shut as you watch Nat walk off into the night, digging her box of smokes from her pocket and bringing one to her lips just before she walks out of view. You tug your curtains shut, trying to block the memory of her leaving from your mind and fall back into your bed, pressing your nose into the pillow where she once resided.

Cigarette smoke, cheap booze, shitty cologne, and something that just smells like Nat.

You'll hate yourself in the morning for letting this happen again. Hell, you hate yourself right now for letting it happen again.

But her smell against your pillow brings you some weird sense of calm, and you know you'll let her in the next time she knocks at your window and every time that follows.

You've never had a backbone when it comes to Nat.

You doubt you ever will.

a/n: van x reader fic next. or crush. one of the two. either way, they will come out before anything else does

[xtra7s]

It Takes Two To Love | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: It's your one-year anniversary with Nat. You decide to give her a present she isn't expecting—a lap dance. Happy anniversary, Natalie.

request: I haven't watched Anora yet but I've watched a lot of her scenes on Tik Tok and I can't stop thinking about the scenario of doing a sensual dance for Nat just like Anora did for that guy😔✋️ Nat.exe has stopped working ( @theprismyyy )

wc: 1620

warnings: brief smut but it's mostly just foreplay, nat doesn't know wtf is going on

a/n: i still haven't seen anora, either. whoops

"Told you to stay sitting, Natalie." You say from behind her as she fidgets restlessly, "I told you that the surprise would be worth the wait, didn't I?" You gently place your hands on her shoulders, and she practically jumps from her wooden chair at the sensation. "Something's are worth the wait."

"You know I hate surprises," Nat mumbles, fighting every urge in her that screams TURN AROUND. "I know it's our anniversary, but you know—"

You squeeze down on her shoulders, and she stops talking, albeit petulantly. "Mm. Good." 

Walking to the side of your bedroom, you press play on the mixtape you made specially for this night—something filled with songs you consider sexy—and make your way back over to her. 

Nat—for all that she is—is not a patient person. So, the longer you spend behind her, the more antsy she becomes. It doesn't help that Red Light Special by TLC is playing, so she has a vague idea of what is about to happen—but has no idea the extent of what you're about to do. 

So, her jaw drops when you finally walk in front of her, wearing the nicest set of underwear (some black Calvin Klein's) you own. Her eyes don't seem to know where to go, flashing from your chest, to your legs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and then repeating the path. "Oh." She finally manages to croak out, hands gripping the chair seat so tightly you worry the wood will splinter. 

"Oh?" You parrot, grinning as you approach her slowly, trying your hardest to move in time to the music. "Natalie Scatorccio out of words? How rare. She always has something to say." When you finally reach the chair, Nat parts her legs instinctively to accommodate you standing between them, her jaw still slack. "It's actually kinda cute, really. All I had to do was act a little sexy, and you went brainless." 

You let out a soft chuckle, watching her flustered state with amusement. "I didn't think you'd lose your words so easily, Nat." You tease, brushing a finger lightly against her cheek, just enough to make it tickle. Her grip on the chair tightens again, knuckles pale against the cherry wood. 

You let the moment linger, with your pointer finger lightly tracing the edge of her jaw as the slow beat of Red Light Special amplifies the tension. Nat's chest rises and falls with short, shallow breaths, trying so hard to keep herself composed in the face of something she's never come close to encountering before—but the anticipation is evident in her eyes. She wants.

With deliberate slowness, you take a step back, letting her eyes trace your shape in the dim lighting. Then, you sway your hips to the beat, a soft, sensual rhythm, before turning around and walking behind her once again. You can vaguely hear the sound of her breath catching, but you say nothing—letting the anticipation build further.

The song switches, I'll Make Love To You by Boyz II Men, filling the space of your bedroom. You approach her with the switch in songs, running your fingers up and down her arms for a few beats. "You're doing so well, Natalie." You whisper, voice low and teasing against her ear, "I think it's time for the real show, don't you?"

You swear you can hear her whimper, but she would never admit it, and you would never bring it up.

Slowly, you walk back in front of her in time to the beat, then drop to your knees—a move that sends Nat's heart rate into orbit, as if it wasn't already skyrocketing. Her eyes never leave you, tongue darting out to wet her lips on instinct. You position yourself carefully over her—close enough so that she can feel your body heat, but just stop short of contact.

When your hands find purchase on her knees, you slowly push yourself up, letting her get a tantalizing look at your cleavage. "You always want to give." You murmur as you roll your head back, exposing your neck to her hungry gaze, "I think it's your turn to receive, Nat."

Nat's hands twitch against where she grips the chair, and you can tell she's fighting the urge to reach out and grab you, not wanting to seem too desperate. "I, I, I mean…" She stammers, blinking rapidly as you raise back to your full height, standing over her. "You, you, seriously. You don't have to… uh…" But she seems to lose her train of thought as you move to straddle her waist, hands on her shoulders as you rock your body against hers to the music. 

"You can touch me, you know." You whisper breathily against her ear, "Hardly fun if your hands aren't all over me."

It's like she was just waiting for your words—because the second you're done speaking, her hands are greedily squeezing your hips. Her fingers press into the soft flesh there as you rock against her, your hands running up and down her chest as you move.

"Jesus Christ…" Nat mumbles, unsure where to keep her gaze as you move sensually to the beat. "You… shit. I…" Zero coherent thoughts remain in her head, her entire brain clouded with how you move on top of her, just for her. No one else gets you like this, meaning you practised this little routine just for her. "Oh, Jesus fuck…" 

You let out a low laugh, pressing yourself flush against her body when her hands drift to your ass, squeezing gratefully at the smooth skin. "Yeah, baby? Can't think of anything?" On the next chorus, you move your chest level to her face, just close enough so you can feel her breathing—which might just be panting at this point—against your breasts. "No thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours." You murmur as you push a hand through her hair, something which results in a sharp squeeze of your ass.

"Fuck, I don't… I just… I…" Yeah, you could say there are no thoughts inside her head, and you'd probably be right. With her face level to your chest and your hands in her hair, it's honestly a shock she isn't drooling. But when you rock yourself closer at the song switch, Nat can't help but bury her face in between your cleavage, groaning against your skin.

"Yeah, there you go." You grin, holding the back of her head as you continue to move to the beat, "This is for you, baby. Take what you need."

Nat moans against your chest at those words, hands kneading against the flesh of your ass greedily as her teeth come out to trace the edge of your bra. The scent of your perfume is even more prominent now, as is the smell of your skin, and it's intoxicating to the blonde underneath you.

With one hand tangled in her hair, you let the other roam across Nat's body—from her neck to her shoulders, then down her side as she remains with her head between your breasts, occasionally nipping at the soft flesh as the songs continue to play in the background.

"Come on, baby." You purr as you roll your hips against hers, "I know you've got more in you than that."

Nat lets out a low moan, hands moving back to your hips as she rocks against you. "God…" She breathes, head tilting to look up at you, "You… you're so pretty." Her eyes are wide and hungry as they gaze up at you, and at this moment, you know you've genuinely melted Natalie Scatorccio's brain.

She drags one of her palms from your hip to your knee, then to your stomach, her eyes now following the path her fingers are taking. "Can I?" She mumbles, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. "I wanna… touch you."

You laugh warmly at that, moving the hand that was on her side to grab her wrist, encouraging it under the waistband of your panties. "I told you, baby. This is for you. Take what you need."

"Oh," Nat mumbles as her fingers slide past the elastic, "shit, yeah. I…" Her voice trails off the lower her hand goes, and once the pads of her fingers slide over your wetness, she has to bite back a small whimper. 

"Yeah, there you go." You grin down at her, feeling the pleasure from even the slightest touch, "It's all yours, baby. Take whatever you want. Whatever you need." Another roll of your hips into hers to punctuate your statement.

Nat lets out a soft gasp at the slick beneath her fingers, "Oh my God." She mumbles, hand stilling in surprise before resuming its previous task. "Oh my God." She repeats, her hips rocking up into yours again, "You feel so… oh my God…"

Another low laugh leaves your lips as you continue to move against her hand, "You like that? You like knowing how turned on I get for you, Nat?" You release her wrist and move your hand back to her shoulder, getting a better grip to aid in the movements of your hips. 

The blonde nods frantically, her free hand now gripping the meat of your thighs, nails biting into the flesh hard enough to leave small crescent marks in their wake. She watches you with wide, lust-blown eyes, transfixed and hypnotized by your every movement. "You're so fucking wet." She says in sheer awe, "I... holy shit."

The song switches again, and as it does, you lean down to brush your lips against her ear, "I am. And I think we have a long night ahead of us, Natalie."

Nat whimpers at your words.

It will be a long night, indeed.

a/n: do u guys know how weird it is watching lap dance videos for reference. sometimes writing is so weird. fucking googling the weirdest shit. sometimes i wonder if i'm on the fbi's radar (i'm not even american)

[xtra7s]

shauna x mari x reader: know your place🔞

minors get the hell away from this mess‼️‼️‼️

tags: dubcon, noncon, praising, knife play?, coercion, shauna being feral and gross, shauna’s her own tag warning tbh, mari being a submissive mess i fear, reader’s gender not specified

At first, Misty was the one suspected of hoarding food.  She’s messed with the soup before and has been prohibited from dealing with anything relating to the team’s dinner. But upon further investigation, Misty had been cleared of her guilt, much to the surprise of the Yellowjackets. 

It was amusing really. Mari had spent so much time trying to pin the blame on Misty and make her seem like the culprit. She even tried to bribe Melissa with extra food if she pretended to be an eyewitness. Didn’t work out so well. Turns out Melissa was the one to snitch on Mari to the group. And upon further investigation, Mari was actually the one hoarding food from the group.

Nat didn’t want to punish Mari. She understood her motives and wanted to just let the incident slide. Nat still wasn’t quite as radicalized compared to the rest of the Yellowjackets members. Sure, being the antler queen meant she was selected to lead. Lottie wasn’t in charge anymore. But, just like her, Nat wished she hadn’t been selected either.

She couldn’t do it. Nat outright refused to select a punishment for Mari. She was still recovering from the cruelty of Coach Ben’s slaughter a couple of days ago. Nat didn’t want to administer more retribution. 

Shauna was right. She didn’t deserve to be in charge. She’s just a fucking coward who couldn’t adjust to the ways of the wilderness. It should’ve been Shauna. It should’ve been the butcher who supplied the food for the camp.

Shauna chose you to help deliver the consequences for Mari’s actions. Out of everyone at camp, you’d been the one she had gotten most acquainted with. She confided in you when it came to her darkest secrets and when Jackie died, you stood inside of the meat shed, waiting to comfort her and whisper affirmations when she entered. You took all of her grief. You let her cry on your shoulder when she lost the best friend of her dreams. And you listened to all her gossip and complaints about the other members of the team.

Now you held the role as executioner. That is if Shauna even decided to murder Mari in cold blood. Shauna didn’t seem ready to slaughter the thief just yet though. She had Mari pinned down and was almost contemplating what punishment would be suitable for a hoarder like her.

“Shauna, don’t you think this is a little cruel?” You ask.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t the one in charge,” Shauna snarls.

“Neither are you, and yet here you are.”

Shauna scoffs at your remark, her grip tightening around Mari’s neck.

“I don’t know why you’re so eager to defend a thief. This fucking girl could’ve made us all die from starvation. Just to preserve herself.”

“She probably didn’t steal that much,” you sigh.

“Now’s not the time to play devil’s advocate, Y/N. Unless you wanna end up like her.”

You gulp. You’d rather not become dinner for the whole group.

“Shauna, you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

“Have I? I’m sure the others would be just as eager to see this little shit get what she deserves. She’s lucky we didn’t choose to eat her first.”

Mari’s usually a loud mouth. She always has a nasty remark to say and it’s hard for a snarky comment or insult to spill from her lips. But, she’s not such a brave bully this time around. She’s shivering, hardly able to look Shauna directly in the eyes. Her gaze keeps darting around the forest, like she’s waiting for a guardian angel to come and rescue her. There’s a giant lump in her throat and her lip can’t stop quivering. She’s an anxious mess to be honest, no longer the girl with a quip to every answer.

“We should’ve ate her before Jackie,” Shauna grumbles. “It was a mistake to keep her ass around.”

“So, are you gonna eat her?” Your eyes widened. “Like right this second?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course I’d rather you not, Shauna. Like, what the fuck? Give the girl a chance maybe. Who knows if she even stole that much food?”

“Now you’re beginning to sound like Nat.”

“Yeah, well maybe Nat had a point. Are we just going to start killing everyone who slightly bothers us? I understood Coach Ben, but Mari?”

“Slightly bother us!?” Shauna snaps. “She ate our fucking food! She stole our food and hoarded it so she could outlive us. She’s a fucking cunt.”

Mari trembles in the dirt, hoping that Shauna won’t bite an arm off or two.

“Look at her. Now she wants to act all fucking innocent and scared as if what she did wouldn’t be detrimental to our survival.”

“I’d be scared too in her shoes,” you attempt to reason. You feel like you’re the only one who hasn’t completely lost their mind out here.

Shauna releases her grasp on Mari’s neck but places her boot over Mari’s chest.

“You remember when Mari said that you’d be the first one to die out here and that you wouldn’t last a night in this place?”

“Are we really bringing that up, Shauna? That was ages ago. Who gives a shit?”

Shauna exhales, but keeps her boot on Mari. “I’m not going to kill her. I don’t think she’s worth the blood on my knife.”

You sigh with a bit of relief. You’re satisfied with the conclusion of no bloodshed. No more messes, no more murder. At least for the time being.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m bringing her back to the others yet.”

You hold your breath and squeeze your hands together.

“What are you going to do with her, Shauna?”

“The real question is, ‘What are we going to do with her?’”

“We?” You shake your head. “Shauna, I want no part in this. Do what you have to do, but don’t get me involved.”

“Don’t be fucking pathetic,” Shauna spits. “How the hell are you going to survive out here if you can’t even rough a girl up?”

“I’m not pathetic,” you protest meekly. “I-I…I don’t know. Yeah, I guess I’ll help out. Fuck.”

“Glad to hear.” Shauna smirks and looks down at Mari’s fragile body. “Sit up a little bit.”

Mari follows Shauna’s command. She doesn’t sit up all the way but she sits up slightly.

“Alright, her dress has to come off.”

Shauna directs her gaze towards you and tosses her knife into your hands.

“Would you do the honors?”

Do you have to? Is it an obligation? Shauna stares at you like she’s gonna drag the knife into your skin if you don’t involve yourself.

You sigh and kneel down next to Mari. Through the dress cutting, Mari doesn’t resist or attempt to wriggle away from you. She’s aware that she doesn’t have the strength to. Shauna will ensure she doesn’t come out alive if she puts up a struggle.

Mari’s clothes fall off and you toss her tattered dress to the side. She’s completely bare, ripe for the picking. Not completely unscathed, but enough of a clean cut for Shauna to create her marks. Then again, any current bruising or cuts on her were already present before.

“Okay, now what?” You ask. “What are you even planning to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Shauna chuckles. “Don’t ask so many questions. Just let me lead, alright?”

“I really don’t know about this.”

“Zip it,” Shauna hisses. “She fucked up. Her body is ours to use now. If you and her would rather not see this girl die, maybe cooperate with me and go along with this.”

Shauna grasps at one of Mari’s tits, fondling and massaging them roughly. She doesn’t touch them like she’s trying to be delicate. Shauna rubs them like she’ll rip them off if Mari lets one sign of protest slip from her mouth. It’s a cruel negotiation. Do as you’re told and you don’t fucking die. Though, Mari can’t deny that her nipples are hardening under the feeling of Shauna’s fingers. Fuck. She’s gonna humiliate herself.

“Doing so good,” Shauna praises with a smirk, occasionally rolling Mari’s nipples between her fingers. “Y/N, grab the other one and start sucking on it. Use your teeth.”

“Teeth?” You repeat in disbelief. The fuck, man?

Still, you respect the orders and inch closer to Mari’s other breast. You see the peril in her eyes and take a second to reassure that this’ll be over soon and that she’s gonna make it out of this alive.

“Just relax,” you coo, swirling your tongue around the bud and nipping at it lightly. “Shhhh, just be good.”

Mari lets out a whine, moving her hips upward with a jolt.

“Stay still goddamnit,” Shauna complains.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You pet Mari’s hair. “You can grab onto me and squeeze or scratch if it feels overwhelming, okay?”

Mari glares at the both of you, but nods. One of her hands reach your back and rake into your skin. Her nails cut so deep that you wonder if she’ll draw blood. She’s doing this as some sort of micro revenge, as a smidge of payback for being placed in this compromising position.

“Fuck my life,” you mutter, the heat in your own body rising in temperature the more you suckle on Mari’s sensitive nipples. You’re becoming addicted to the way she lets out a whine every now and again or when her body jumps. But, the fun can’t last forever.

Soon, Shauna shoves you to the side.

“Did you bite her enough?”

“Sure Captain,” you respond sarcastically, giving Shauna an eye roll. “What’s next on the agenda, besides you being a fucking perv?”

“If I’m a perv for this, that makes you an equal creep. You’re going along with this too, y’know?”

“You’re forcing me to,” you argue.

“Yeah, whatever.” Shauna rolls your eyes. “I saw the look you gave this girl when you were playing with her tits. Don’t act like you haven’t wanted to fuck her for ages.”

“I’m not like you,” you reply. “I’m actually respectful to the people i interact with out here because I don’t just turn into a fucking asshole because there’s nobody coming to reprimand me otherwise.”

“Oh, you’re sooo respectful?” Shauna teases. “Then stop what I’m about to do.”

Shauna steps back and retrieves a makeshift knife from her pocket, fingers caressing the edge of the blade. She swings it in her hand, not breaking eye contact with Mari.

“Don’t fucking kill her, Shauna!” You lunge at her to try to steal the knife away, but she shoves you back onto the grass like you’re another obstacle in her path. This whole situation’s made you doubt whether you were ever a ‘special friend’ in Shauna’s mind. Or a special anything. Maybe she just needed a partner in crime who’d go along with her dastardly deeds. Maybe she just wanted a yes-person who never disagreed with her when she inevitably let her mind loose in the wilderness. Maybe you were more replaceable than you originally imagined.

Shauna kneels back in front of Mari, teasing her by dangling the knife in front of her face like it’s a shiny new toy. You watch with concern, but a hint of curiosity. You know you’ll lash out the second Shauna stabs her or cuts her, but Shauna’s hand focuses on the knife’s wooden handle.

Shauna coats the fingers on her other hand in saliva, sucking on them and dropping spit on them until she’s certain they’re moist enough. Her fingers prod at Mari’s entrance. Shauna smirks. Mari’s already fucking wet. No, she’s damp. You’re shocked that Shauna even had the decency to reduce some of Mari’s pain by using spit as lube, even if not the most effective lubricant. But Mari hardly needed help. Her inner thighs were already coated with her juices, her pussy throbbing at the contact. Shauna drops the knife onto her knee and spreads Mari’s lips open, her fluids making that precious hole glisten. She can’t pretend to be decent anymore. She can’t pretend that she hasn’t lost her goddamn marbles already. And you can’t pretend that you aren’t intrigued by this whole affair. You’re just as bad as Shauna, if not worse for being a bystander to this predicament.

Shauna plunges her fingers inside, her skin being consumed by the wet heat. Her mouth gapes at the sensation, that hand of hers working fast to loosen Mari up. You watch with awe, assisting in Shauna’s depravity by playing with Mari’s swollen clit.

“Oh, so much for being ‘respectful,’” Shauna chuckles.

You ignore her comment and look at Mari. “Just open yourself up. It’s okay. Just let yourself feel good, baby.”

Mari squirms in the dirt like a worm. She’s under attack, but she’s bucking into her captor’s hand. It’s like she’s forgotten that she’s in any type of danger. Mari’s only human. She just wants to feel good like everybody else, and she’ll choose hedonism over her own safety to make that happen.

“Fuck she really likes this,” you purr. “You’re being so good, baby. Yeah, move your hips just like that.”

Mari develops a rhythm with her body, arching her hips at the perfect time when Shauna’s fingers begin to curl. You decorate her chest in kisses, murmuring sweet praises and affirmations while she takes her pleasure. 

“So good, pretty girl. Yeahhh, you like being used like this? Maybe you should swipe some food more often, yeah?”

All of a sudden, the momentary peace is interrupted when Mari howls. Shauna inserts the handle of her rusty knife inside of Mari’s cunt and starts maneuvering it in and out.

“W-What the f-fuck are you doing?” You yell. “Are you out of your mind?”

Is she out of her mind? A fucking detective isn’t needed to answer that inquiry.

“Don’t make her nervous for no reason, you pain my ass. Look at her, she likes it.”

Sure enough, mewls and whines are leaving Mari’s mouth. She grinds her hips into the handle like she’s fucking herself with a dildo.

“Just play with her clit so it doesn’t feel like torture,” Shauna urges.

You sigh and go back to giving Mari’s nub the attention it deserves. You swirl your fingers around the perky bud, circling it until Mari offers you a satisfactory gasp.

“Yeah, you’re so fucking good baby,” you praise. “Fuck, you like acting a little slutty for me and Shauna? Like letting your head go empty and your mind blank?”

“Of course she loves it. She’s moaning like a whore.”

“Yeahhh, maybe it’s not such a punishment for you. Are you a good little whore, Mari?”

Mari nods, her mouth watering and her body bucking faster as Shauna thrusts her knife handle more rapidly.

“Gonna cum around a knife handle,” Shauna scoffs. “So fucking pathetic.”

“Super pathetic,” you agree. “Are you a pathetic slut, Mari? Are you a toy waiting to be used?”

Mari nods eagerly, her pussy clamping and clenching down on the handle. Sweat pours on her forehead and she swears her vision is going black. She’s nothing more than a toy, a puppet to be manipulated when you and Shauna are feeling aroused over particularly nothing.

“Cum for us then Mari,” Shauna encourages. “Be good for us and make a big fucking mess. And maybe we won’t tell the others how much of a little dumb pup you are.”

And Mari does just that, letting out a silent scream as her lips form an ‘o’ shape. Her body writhes and her thighs quiver as she releases a stream of liquid onto the knife. Her vision is all stars and her surroundings turn into a blur. She’s completely ruined, her callous demeanor a memory of the past. And although you might regret your choices later, you’ll savor the incredible moment for now and bear witness to action you may have never gotten outside of this crash. And Mari’ll do the same.

[xtra7s]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

piltover / zaun civil war

tw; dark!caitlyn, prisoner!reader, blowjob, gunplay, gunjob? gunfucking, drastic power dynamics, degradation, humiliation, bondage, hate sex, bratty!reader, noncon. dead dove. rape. wc; 1.9k ao3 vers.

WHEN Piltover's oh, so fearless leader strides into your humble abode, you can already tell she's having a bad day. Caitlyn's eyes are bloodshot. Hells, she’s still in her uniform. The tresses of silken, inky locks are no longer taut ponytail—stray strands dangling, tangled, cheeks nicked with dried blood. You doubt it's her own.

Your first instinct, as a prisoner chained to the wall and completely at her mercy; is to act like a right fucking brat. Because that’s been working out so well for you, thus far.

“Rough day?” not that you could give a single fuck. “All tired out from gassing out children on the streets? Poor baby."

Caitlyn remains silent as she dismisses the guard with a flick of her wrist, and you're still talking. Yipping away like a dog snapping at her heels. "There are other ways to solve wealth inequality than killing all the poor people, you know." Her stare is glacial.

God, the mouth on you.

She’s considered moving you to her family’s personal prisons. Though, keeping Zaun's lauded revolutionary locked-up in the Kirramman's basement would draw a couple eyebrows. The dungeons under the council-room you so lovingly blew up, along with her mother, suffice.

“Paint a portrait,” You sneer, like the little shit you are. A bloodstain clinging to her sole, that she hasn't scraped off yet. "How 'bout you shoot a gloryhole and fuck that instead, princess."

So you do see the bulge she's packing. Good. She's been aching to unload in you, all day.

"I'm not in the mood for talk." Caitlyn says, coolly, shoving the cellblock door open and stepping inside. Clearly. Her cock is pulsing. She hasn't even made the effort of the usual charade, in drilling you with that perfunctory interrogation sequence—for the benefit of the enforcers stationed at your cell. (Shame. you take your petty joys in turning up your nose and spitting in her face, like some structured caricature of foreplay).

You have such tight lips. Caitlyn delights in prying them open.

“Knew you couldn’t resist. Come back for another round, already?” Somehow, you manage to sound cocky, even though there's a smear of her dried cum streaked just below your brow, from just this morning.

Caitlyn tries to be good. She really does. You just make it so hard.

“Hold this for me.” She orders, like you're one of her little soldiers waiting on her hand and foot. A snarky reply about the shackles around your wrists is on the tip of your tongue. No matter. Caitlyn forces the barrel down your half-open mouth anyway, before you could so much as say bang.

“Mmf—“ Cold metal forces your mouth apart. your eyes widen, pupils swallowing up your irises. This is new. For a moment, blind panic seizes your body, because there is a gun in your mouth. It's not like you don't know there's a guillotine with your name inscribed. (All, 'cut the head off the snake', or whatever eloquent, prissy-spun bullshit Caitlyn spits in your ear as her nails scrape the walls of your cunt).

It's been too long. The war could be over, for all you know. Though, you wouldn't put it past her to keep you past your expiration date.

Speaking of, Caitlyn doesn’t even bother to hush you. She only thrusts, further—far enough to bruise your throat and stop your incessant, muffled whining. Your gag reflex triggers. Unbidden, tears sprout, to burn behind your eyelids. Silently, you buck.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. You’ve taken worse.” Caitlyn rolls her eyes, languidly pushing the pistol in, and out. In, and, out. She guides in smooth, composed motions—never letting up enough to allow you more than seethe, breathing harshly through your nose. “It’s good practice."

The fiifth time you gag, she finally lifts the barrel out. You were never one to waste the opportunity to snark, even if you really should be saving your breath.

“Holding a dress rehearsal for my public execution? I'm. You must really like me, doll.”

“Oh, no,” Caitlyn drags metal, over your lips. It's warm, from the time it’s spent crammed down your throat “for gagging on my cock.”

Even though you’re expecting it, you lash out—momentarily ripping the veil off your faux swagger. Caitlyn tuts, though she gets a vivid lick of satisfaction from seeing you, bare, for once (and goodness, how much effort you take), before shoving the gun back in place. You fix her with a glower that seeps with pure, divine, hatred—chapped lips puckering goadingly around its muzzle. Screaming for her, to just fuckin' do it, already. Caitlyn almost admires how you haven’t lost your rage, your viciousness. It's the one thing you have in common.

She swiftly upticks the revolver, and jerks it out, callous. The roof of your mouth snags on its sharp-whetted sights, and blood sluices down your throat. You can’t tell the taste from the metallic tang of metal. A string of pink saliva connects its spitsoaked barrel to your sputtering lips, chest heaving.

“Don’t have the balls to take the shot, huh?” You spit, as if there isn’t enough of that smeared over your chin, pooling helplessly into your collar.

“Should you be so lucky.” Caitlyn smiles, the bitch, as she swoops downwards, markedly unblemished hands grasping your jaw. Of course, you think, lividly. Of course Piltover’s own general doesn’t get her hands dirty.

Although, she makes an exception for you. How sweet.

Caitlyn foregoes further fanfare, pushing you downwards. Your limbs fold in on themselves—a lion, declawed. The feeble thrash of your arms, bound at the wrist and hastened to the iron-wrought wall—are no match for the demanding brace of Caitlyn’s thighs as she slides gracefully to her knees, elegant hand seizing you by the throat.

"But I’d make such a pretty martyr," You wheeze, hyperaware of the click of Caitlyn’s belt unbuckling. All of a sudden, you miss the cool sensation of a pistol in your mouth.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, adores this angle. How your eyes sear. Jaw clenched, hollows sucked in rage and hunger—as if you would blow the brains out her head if you could. Seething, at how she has the opportunity herself, but denies you the satisfaction.

Instead, you get this. She untucks herself at a leisurely pace, almost marvelling at the way her cock descends in a mighty shadow, darkening your face. You scowl. Her free hand shoots out to smush your cheeks, the moment you bare your teeth and open your mouth to talk back. So predictable.

“Perhaps if you didn’t spit your food out at the guards, you’d have the strength to put up at least a little fight.” Caitlyn teases, too lightly for the context, as she lines up her flushed, swollen tip against your furiously jammed lips. A gob of pre-cum spouts from the slit, marring your cheek

"Maybe I was saving myself the trouble of hurling it up after we're done."

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. Pushes her head up against your pursed lips. “What are you? The world’s most grating ventriloquist?” She remarks, snide. She's weary of playing games. She needs it, now.

How she's grown so painfully hard, over this whole ordeal. You'd think she’d feel shame over it—so turned-on by something she sees clearly beneath her—but who wouldn’t get off on using their worst enemy like this? You'd do the same, if you were in her position.

At least, that’s what she tells herself when she shoves her cock down your throat.

"Ah.." Caitlyn shudders, the same time muscle memory has you sucking. Her neck arches back in open relief, hips bucking as she presses you, nose flush against the trimmed strip of dark pubes.

Her strokes are torturously slow. The most humiliating thing is the plap, plap, plap sound of her balls slapping against your chin, resounding in the empty dungeons. there is no audience—probably because nothing about this screams Noble House of Kiramman—or even legality. then again, neither does launching nukes into Piltover's place of governance. Tomayto, tomahto.

She withholds her moans for your own benefit, just so you can listen to the obscene sound of yourself, suckling along her dick. Caitlyn’s drags are lazy, relishing the beautiful suction of your lips. Slips herself far enough down your throat, for your swallows to turn to audible gulps, as you try not to choke.

She's not quite yet done. Her fingers dart downwards, twisting your panties aside.

“I don’t even know why you bother wearing these. They’re disgusting.” Rock-hard, a sore reminder of how routine this has become. She hooks them on her pistol, before promptly flicking them across the room, revealing the miserable, glistening wetness of your cunt.

Fuck. Your pussy is sodden like a cat left in the rain, dripping all over the carpet—much to your self-loathing. Caitlyn’s smirk is unrepentant.

“You're getting off on this? You're even dirtier than i thought.” She muses, as you glower hotly upwards, cheeks full of her. “I do hope you used your tongue.”

You're briefly confused by the comment, because, well—you are using your tongue and more—until the slick heat of your pussy swallows cold steel, and you gasp—walls straining, clenching around the foreign intrusion. Caitlyn eases the revolver in, with surprising gentleness. not that it does you any good.

Your spine arches off the wall, mangled noise ripping from your throat. Caitlyn shoves her length in, deeper, an impromptu silencer. “Don't whinge, darling.” she husks, knowing you loathe the pet-name. "It's unbecoming."

She never hurries, despite having places to be. Is it her fault that it feels so good to fuck your throat, like this? To pulse her gun in your cunt, almost playful, as she watches with the hooded eyes how your pussy greedily slurps the pistol to its hilt, before coming out again, glazed with the evidence of just how filthy she knows you to be. Her finger slides over the trigger, voice coming out in a breathy murmur.

“Bang.”

Caitlyn cums in thick, gooey spurts down your throat. Her head lolls back, shoving your head to practically kiss the sharp angles of her pelvis as you take it. Of course you take it. All your bravado, and still, you swallow her load like a beaten dog lapping at water, all the while, her pistol stretches you open. You don't plan it. God, it's like your body has a life of its own—a Pavlovian response, to the taste and feeling of Caitlyn trickling down your throat—but you orgasm like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. Your legs quake, limbs jerking, shoulder-blades scraping against the gritty brick walls as your entire being yanks itself upwards, like a marionette on strings.

When she pulls the revolver out from your cunt, this time; it is creamy white that strings from your helplessly pulsating folds to its hollow. You hiss, cheeks burning, panting—scrabbling back. An animal backed into a corner.

Caitlyn holsters her revolver, dripping with your sweat, your blood, your cum. Always on her person, yet as uncocked as the day it was minted—chamber still full. It’s only purpose is to fuck you stupid. She stands, buckling her belt back up, as you lie there.

“I'll break you, yet.” She promises.

Blood rushes between your ears, back scratched to all hell, bruises at the back of your throat. She’s splattered all over you. You grin.

“Should you be so lucky.”

Caitlyn scoffs, and iron bars screech shut behind her. You know you'll see her again, come sunrise. Or; you’ll know sunrise, come Caitlyn, again.

Tomayto, tomahto.

[xtra7s]

Yameoto! Which one of the arcane girlies do you think has a girl dick, my money is on Caitlyn 🥴

girldick caitlyn who can’t control herself around you.

tw: dubcon, cnc.

caitlyn kiramman in that tightass enforcer uniform having to adjust her bulge every so often because it’s getting in the way. caitlyn kiramman having impeccable selfcontrol (as a kiramman should) but she can’t stop her dick from twitching when she sees you, literally doing nothing but yawning—arms stretching up and slipping a sliver of torso—and all of a sudden, she has to excuse herself and palm her cock calm, in the bathroom, eyes rolling backwards as she murmurs your name is hushed breaths.

you’re a liability. because there is a war burgeoning on the horizon, and yet everytime she sees you—her mind narrows into a tunnel, and her one, carnal desire is to sink herself hilt-deep into you. it’s more than debauched—it’s debased. decidedly distracting. caitlyn can’t afford to give in. to the craven, bestial want of hearing her balls slap against your skin as she plunges herself deep enough that her tip thrusts against the spongey slick sweetness of your g-spot as she has you a quivering mess underneath her as she pulls out just in time to paint your stomach with the creamy expanse of her cum—

god, she’s hardening just thinking about it. must you tease her like this? being your beautiful, insufferable, innocuous self?

she holds on. she does. until you’re sparring with caitlyn and you accidentally knee her in the groin and she gasps out loud, has to choke off a moan when her mind just blanks; and you end up pinned to the floor, her body lowered above you, the thick tent in her pants digging, prominent and inevitable. she’s trying. she really is. but she can feel the warmth of your core, right there, and her entire body is screaming for her to just give in. her arms tremble with the effort; and she’s trying really, really hard not to grind against you right now. but at some point she can’t help herself and for a brief moment you’re wondering why she’s not getting off of you and offering your hand for another round, until you realise it’s because she’s too busy rutting up against your knee with her cock pulsing out of her trousers, pushing insistently up against your crotch with desperate pants. her hands fumbling to unbuckle her belt and your mouth goes dry when her dick is suddenly hot and heavy and slapping against your stomach, spilling out an excessive amount of precum against your sweat-slicked skin. she rubs herself sloppily up against you, hands pinning you down as she noses greedily down your neck. “fuck, darling. you drive me crazy.” grunting, teeth pulling at your neck as she just grinds. could come just by the friction alone—but there’s no pride in that. so of course she’s tearing your pants down and pulling your panties aside. doesn’t even bother working you up with her fingers. your tight little cunt is already wet with want, and your eyes blow wide and she savours the pretty little gasp that rips raw from your throat when she drives herself into you with force— pants, in your ear, pressing your back flush against the mat as she thrusts, deep and wanton, your torso sticky with her fluids as she forces you down, with the crushing weight of her body.

she’s a kiramman. she’s the head of house kiramman. except, the only head she’s thinking is the head of her cock as she kisses the tears from your cheeks and rears back, moaning, guttural, as she slips free from your clenched pussy and snaps her hips when she cums on top of you. splattering against your torso, staining your clothes. can’t help herself when she plunges back in. “just one more time.” she hisses, a promise she will break about countless times in just the next hour, fingers pressing your thighs apart, cunt loosened by her rough fucking, lubricated with her own slick.

you make her lose all inhibitions.

[xtra7s]

Lesson in discipline

Teacher!Natasha Romanoff/Student!Reader

Summary — Professor Romanoff is known for being strict and unapproachable, but you can’t help the way your thoughts wander whenever she’s around. When she calls you to stay after class right after catching you zoning out in class, you expect a lecture. Instead, you find yourself in some kind of unexpected situation.

Warning(s) — Age gap relationship, g!p Natasha, swearing, smut, breeding kink, risky sex, blowjob, fingering, non con if you squint.

Notes — I hope you guys can please forgive some of my spelling mistakes, cuz english is not my first language. I hope you enjoy this one-shot. @upsideworld my queen corrected my grammar :3

Miss Romanoff was your toughest professor.

She’s confident, gorgeous, and surely intimidating. She has a reputation for expecting nothing less than excellence, often scolding or nagging her students whenever something doesn't go the way she expected, perhaps she was the meaning of the word perfectionism to the extreme.

Unfortunately for you, she's also incredibly distracting.

You once remember finding yourself drooling as you watched her walk around the classroom wearing a black pencil skirt and a white dress shirt, the top buttons slightly undone, letting your mind wonder what the rest of her looked like underneath.

Today, however, she was wearing navy blue satin pants, a black dress shirt and a blazer in the same color as the pants. She also wore square glasses that did just justice to her magazine-cover-worthy profile.

Your eyes roamed over her stoically, lips parted as your eyes began to burn from the time you didn't blink. You couldn't help yourself, it's not your fault that you short-circuit whenever a beautiful woman was near you.

You remember the times she helped you with some translation exercises, how she would stand behind you, leaning over your shoulder and holding your wrist, giving you a slight taste of what the correct answer was, but all you could focus on at the moment was how her breasts pressed against your shoulder or how stupidly perfect she was at speaking Russian. But of course, it was her native language after all.

There were also times when she had already gotten on your case. Her eyebrows furrowing, her lips forming a pout as she corrected your homework, noticing a grammar mistake so silly that it made her roll her eyes internally.

You had a serious problem learning new languages, and it wasn't easy having to deal with the fact that maybe your teacher hated you. Or maybe she was your fan in disguise.

You often found yourself arriving late to class, and every time you could see the woman roll her eyes while mumbling something in the unknown language, sometimes even not letting you enter the class after a certain time.

But as always, you inattention never goes unnoticed by the teacher.

Now specifically was a great example.

As your mind wandered between a thousand and one dark thoughts, you barely noticed the reddish figure approaching.

A loud noise takes you back to reality, snapping your head towards the source of the noise, which was none other than Natasha Romanoff herself, slamming her ruler against the table hard enough for the entire room to hear it and turn their curious heads in your direction.

You see the eyebrows stitched down in an angry expression. Lips twisted down and nose turned up were what highlighted the expression. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, as you now acquired a blank face in utterly confusion.

“If you’re not going to pay attention, perhaps you’d like to explain the material to the rest of us?” The teacher growled, tapping her index fingernail on your desk as she tilted her head slightly, strands of her reddish bangs falling over her pale face.

At the same moment your lips parted, half open, cheeks acquiring a rosy state as she let each word flow from her dark red lips. Eyes now slowly widening, pupils shrinking as the reality of the situation sank in.

You swallowed hard, feeling your lips dry as you now rushed to explain yourself, getting tangled up in your own words. "I...I'm sorry, i was... i was zoning out." You took a deep breath, collecting your scattered words for a better dialogue, lowering your head slightly, strands of hair now covering your embarrassed face. "That won't happen again."

Lie.

She knew better.

Deep down, maybe all this air of dominance has made you aroused, which results in your legs crossing under the table, which does not go unnoticed by Miss Romanoff, who raises an eyebrow in your direction before silently walking away, muttering, "Stay after class, we're going to have a serious talk about your... manners."

The moment she said that, you spent the rest of class worrying. Despite being terrible at Russian and occasionally skipping classes, you were a good student overall... at least in other subjects, and your parents would really ask you later if you got a warning.

The last hours goes smoothly, with some snarky comments from the teacher towards other students acting in a way that she considers stupid here and there but nothing much beyond that.

Other than that, everything was normal, if you didn't count your anxious mind that was making you feel like burning alive.

You barely notice when the sun begins to set, only noticing when you hear the huge Russian dictionary she carries close, drawing your curious eyes to her desk, which makes you swallow your own saliva. "That's all for today. Everyone can go, except y/n."

Everyone around you starts to put away their materials, even you, but slowly, still stuck in your thoughts.

Little by little the room begins to empty, leaving only the two of you in the end. Natasha, arms crossed, leaning against her own table, looked you up and down, noticing your trembling figure groping your backpack before locking eyes with hers.

Your heart pounding, expecting her to berate you. Instead, Natasha leans back, walking towards her chair, sitting in and crossing her legs right after. Her piercing green eyes fixed on you.

"Tell me, do you think this is all some kind of joke?" She cracked, tilting her head as she analyzed your lack of posture. Yet another thing for her to keep in mind to treat on you.

"No, never, Miss Romanoff!" You answered in record time, swallowing hard as you blushed slightly, shaking your head from side to side in denial before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I just get distracted easily."

You watch her shoulders slump, her expression falling for a few seconds as she seems lost in her own thoughts. “If you’re so easily distracted, perhaps I should teach you a different kind of lesson... Maybe I should use another teaching method?” Her voice is low, almost teasing, and the air between you crackles with tension.

You are caught off guard, your impure mind automatically wandering to inappropriate thoughts, leaving you wanting to mentally beat yourself up over it. You swallowed hard, flaring your nostrils as you tried to appear natural, which you clearly failed at.

What had started later as a scolding quickly turns into something more as she steps closer, dragging her heels across the floor with a sharp noise, finally stopping in front of you, brushing her fingers against your chin to force your gaze up to hers. “Tell me,” she murmured, her lips dangerously close, “is this what you’ve been thinking about during my lectures?”

You panic, your breathing quickening inexplicably, your heart almost beating out of your chest, your eyes wide as you smile embarrassedly.

"Answer." She growled, showing you that the situation was not to be trifled with, and your delay in positioning yourself was not tolerated.

You take a deep breath, licking your dry bottom lip before muttering a, "Think... what?" You mumbled, pretending not to understand, looking away but being forced to look back into the teacher's blazing eyes, who tightened her grip on your chin, forcing your head up.

"Try again." She said, her voice bordering on a powerful growl.

"Yes." You replied immediately, not wanting to even think about what she would do if you irritated her any further.

At this same moment, Natasha’s icy demeanor melts just a little, a smirk appearing on her red lips, eyes half closed as she puffed out her chest, releasing your chin.

She then takes control of the situation, Stretching one hand out to your wrist, feeling your skin burn against her icy touch, an almost thermal shock reaction, guiding you slowly to her desk, at the moment, abusing of her authority.

Your back hits the wooden table, eyes not straying from hers for even two milliseconds.

Natasha smiled, tilting her head as she forced you to sit on the table, spreading your legs slowly so that you skirt would rode up.

This couldn't be about to happen, it was everything you dreamed of, and you were spreaded out in front of your Russian teacher. The same teacher who seemed to adore your confused expression, The same teacher who just a few minutes ago you swore had something against you.

Well, in a few minutes she's really going to have something against you.

Your gaze drops to her hands that were resting on your thighs, as if she had years of experience in this and had no shame at all.

You swallow hard, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as doubt creeps in. She’s stopped now, her gaze fixed intently on the damp spot between your legs.

"You have such a dirty mind, don't you?" Natasha hummed, dragging her index finger across your knee before popping her tongue out at the top of her mouth.

You neither confirm nor deny, your silence drawing a low chuckle from the teacher. She leans in closer, her warmth pressing against you as her lips brush near your ear. "Let's see if you still think that way."

Her lips collide with yours without warning, her hands gripping your waist with a possessive urgency.

Natasha brings one of her hands to your neck, tilting your head to the side for better access, ignoring how stiff you were at the beginning of the kiss as she slowly introduced her tongue against your closed lips.

You gasp for air, being broken into by Miss Romanoff's skillful tongue, eyelids fluttering shut before wrapping your arms around her neck.

You didn't expect it, but you wouldn't miss the opportunity either.

Raising your chest upwards, you feel her hands slide down your thighs, snaking her fingers under your skirt, curling her index finger in the thin fabric, tugging it down.

An overwhelming feeling avalanches within you, your burning body in contrast to the woman's icy body standing out. You feel her tongue sliding against yours with ease, every now and then Natasha would roll her tongue against yours, sucking the tip of it, to then nibble on your lower lip devilishly.

Her hands wrap around you once more, now using the support to move her lips from yours towards your throat, nibbling the spot in between wet kisses.

You feel your body being pushed forward a little, legs spread wide and sparing no effort in wrapping them around your teacher's waist.

Your hands go towards her reddish strands, grabbing a good part so that your nails could go towards the back of her neck, scratching the area slightly.

Teeth chattering against each other, you half-open your eyes and bring one of your hands to Natasha's chest, sliding your hand through the opening of the buttons, surprised by the soft and exaggerated pair she had.

She smiles against your skin, nibbling at your pulse point, licking her bottom lip before she lets out a sigh as she rubs her pelvis against yours, allowing some of your sensitivity to notice something.

In the midst of all this you had failed to notice before, but now everything was much clearer. Dropping your eyes down you notice the huge bulge against your center, a damp spot in the middle of her pants. That makes you blush extremely at the sight.

You tried to say something, being silenced by a hoarse moan that escapes Miss Romanoff's lips, grinding against you in an almost needy way, her eyebrows drawing together in need, lips half open, her tongue darting out between her teeth.

You swallow hard, moaning softly just at hearing this angelic sound, almost desperately running your hand towards the waistband of her pants, sliding your hand down the bulge, feeling the damp spot against your fingers.

Natasha gasps, smiling against your skin, lifting her chin up in pride. "Eager? Oh sweetie, we still have a long way to go." She whispered, climbing her hands between your waist and legs, moaning softly right after when you were quick enough to unbutton her pants, dragging her ruined white underwear down just a little, her rigid member hitting against her own belly.

You tremble in delight, licking your lips, dragging your index finger against the tip, watching the pleased expression on your teacher's face.

Natasha’s eyes darken with satisfaction as she watches you, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. The warmth of her breath caresses your skin as she leans in closer, her fingers trailing a slow, deliberate path up your torso, dragging your shirt up along the way. Every touch is electric, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and you can feel your body tightening in anticipation.

"You’re shaking," she murmurs, her voice a velvet purr against your ear. "Is that excitement, or are you getting impatient with me?"

She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before her lips find the pulse point on your neck, sucking just hard enough to make your breath hitch. Her hands, so steady yet maddeningly slow, roam lower, pressing against your hips with possessive intent. She pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her blue eyes studying you with predatory amusement.

"You’re so easy to unravel," she muses, her nails digging in just enough to make you squirm. "And I haven’t even really started yet."

Her words make your stomach flip, and you find yourself leaning into her touch, craving more—more pressure, more heat, more of her. Your hands move on their own, gripping at her sides, pulling her impossibly close. The warmth of her body seeps into yours, the scent of her—faint traces of vanilla and something distinctly Natasha—clouding your senses.

"Tell me what you want," she coaxes, her lips barely grazing yours, teasing, taunting.

Your breath stutters, but the words don’t come—not when she’s looking at you like that, not when she’s pressing against you in a way that leaves no space for coherent thought.

Natasha chuckles, clearly reveling in your struggle. "That’s okay," she murmurs, brushing her nose against yours. "I already know."

And then, just like that, she takes control again, capturing your lips in a slow, devastating kiss that leaves you gasping against her mouth.

One of Natasha's hands slides down to meet yours, guiding it with a steady pressure as she encourages you to move your hand up and down slowly.

The next moan that escapes the redhead's lips makes your head do imaginary pirouettes. The soft velvety sound of her voice being enough to send you over the edge.

Miss Romanoff was delighted. Your movements were slow, precise, and she couldn’t contain her whimpers, making a rush of boldness creep through your veins.

You bring your hands up towards her shoulders, grabbing her like a prey, pushing her away for a moment so you could easily slide down on your knees, bumping against the floor in a loud pop.

Natasha arched one of her eyebrows, looking down at you in wonder.

You could only smile, lifting you head up to look at her with doe eyes—glowing like glitter, your lips curling upwards in an evil almost innocent smile.

It was fake.

Natasha knew better.

You lift your hands up, finishing your work and pulling her pants all the way down to better acess.

You leaned up, your hands wrapping around the shaft eagerly.

You could see the smirk tugging at corner of her lips, brows knitting together in a small frown. "Are you for real?" She whispered almost in a mocking tone, as if you couldn't take it.

"Scared?" You replied authentically, puffing out your chest proudly.

The teacher scoffed, the smile on her face almost failing at the moment you looked so full of yourself. But she wasn’t going to back down either.

You hold one of her thighs tightly, your red nails digging into her skin like silk.

You lift your lips towards the tip, breathing in the sticky essence that had leaked previously.

It was now or never, you thought.

Your lips wrap around the head subtly, greedily embracing the member, lips wrapped like glue around it.

A breathless sigh escapes the older woman's lips, eyes trying to close shallowly as her lips open again so that she can let out a hoarse, drawn-out moan. "Fuck.."

Your hands, which were firmly gripping her member, beginning to move up and down as now you tried to slowly swallowed her.

It was a hard task, after all it wasn't a considered normal size.

You slowly lower your head, choking in the process of your work. Getting an inexplicable blush on your now inflated cheeks.

Natasha smiles through her teeth, looking down at you smugly, as if she was daring you to continue.

Your eyes, still glued to hers, took a while to adjust to the new position, tears began to threaten to come out due to the enormous size of her member, that makes you take a deep breath that send shivers through the teacher's spine.

Slowly you continue, not daring to stop or give up at this point in the game, you were willing to show her what you were capable of.

But were you really?

She growls through her parted lips, her fingers reaching for your hair in a moment of need, grabbing a handful of strands as she thrusts inside of your mouth with fervor.

You choke as you feel the tip of her cock hit your throat, leaving a bruise that wouldn't heal any time soon, but at the moment you had more things to worry about, for example now. Natasha starts to fuck your lips roughly, not giving you time to breathe as she slid her cock against your hoarse throat.

Your lips make involuntary sucking movements, resulting in shrill moans from the lips of the tallest woman, who at this moment barely cared about your well-being, right now you were nothing more than a toy to satisfy her.

Her tip hits against your sore throat forcing a light cough that makes Natasha let out an irritated grunt, just for the hell of it being even rougher, applying force with her hand behind your hair, pushing your head in and out of her member.

"You thought you're so confident, right detka?" She cooed, the sound of your mouth slapping against her pelvis being music to the teacher's skilled ears.

Your eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks, breathing erratically amidst strangled moans, gasping like a poor animal.

"Look at you, such a dumb slut for your teacher, aren't you?" Natasha hums with her lips parted in a macabre smile, leaving you on the verge of collapse, stirring the beast inside her like crazy.

A knot formed at the bottom of her stomach, and the older woman knew she was close, gradually increasing her speed, grunting as she closed her eyes in delight, enjoying the obscene noise of your mouth against her pelvis.

She continues her firm movements, her lips parting in ecstasy as she curses softly. "Fuck baby... that's it!"

In a fraction of a second the spring inside her collapses, ejaculating onto your swollen lips like a hot jet.

Slowly you feel her member slide out of your lips, and you automatically gasp for air desperately, collapsing to the floor in the middle of a cough, bringing your hands to your throat in a trembling way.

The swollen, red eyes go towards the teacher's, and the moment you saw her still stiff in front of you you knew it wasn't over yet.

"Up." She growled slowly.

You obey without blinking, staring at her stoically like a lost puppy, legs wobbly as you lean against the desk, sprawling your arms against the desk carefully.

You now hoarsely try to mumble some disjointed words, a plea for her to at least give you a little more time, but you knew that wouldn't happen.

Her hands wrap around your wrists, pushing your head down towards the table with a loud pop, straining against you like a hungry predator.

You grunt in pain, tears coiling in your swollen eyes.

"Maybe you do deserve a reward for being so good to me, huh?" She murmurs with her lips parted, bringing her lips to the base of your ear, nibbling on the lobe before letting out a scoff, now bringing her hands to your thighs, rising your skirt up as she slips her fingers inside the soaked material of your underwear.

She feels you vibrate in anticipation, a longing moan escaping your bruised lips as you grip the end of the table in anticipation, feeling two fingers slide beneath your folds with extreme ease.

Your lips part in a sharp moan, swallowing the cursed tears that flickered throught your clear orbs, pulling a wicked smile from her lips.

Natasha begins to loose you from the inside, stretching her slender fingers inside you like bait.

She thrusts inside you with ease, her fingers curling like a hook inside you, sliding deep enough that it was a borderline between pain and pleasure.

"Cat got your tongue?" She cooed slightly pleased with herself.

When you don't answer she laughs rudely, pulling her fingers out in a swift motion.

When you thought she had a shred of sanity and pity and would give you a break, you're contradicted by the way her member invades your heat, indulging a soft moan through your lips.

That was like music to her ears, and in response she doesn't even wait for you to adjust to the size, she soon takes you with fervor, attacking your insides with strong and precise bursts.

Your forehead slides against the wooden table, eliciting a thin grunt from those abused lips.

Her hands snaked around you, sliding her hand down to your lips, rubbing her thumb against your bottom lip, where you don't think twice about taking a bite of it, fully grasping it around your mouth.

You open and close your eyes tightly, feeling your insides being torn apart by the deep intensity that she had putted in.

She starts to thrust in and out of you, sliding like water inside you, with such ease and agility, moaning softly against your ear.

Her mind could only go over how she wanted to take you completely—fill you entirely, crush you like a piece of paper, tear off your shreds of hope like a useless puppet.

Natasha was definitely loosing her mind, and you more than anyone else was the blame for it.

She couldn’t help it, the way your core squeezed her shaft like a vice, your legs weak—knees wobbly and your arms splayed dumbly against the table.

It wasn't her fault you were so irresistible. "Look at you. You're taking me so well—such a greedy slut." She cooed against your ear, nails scratching your hips lightly as she sped up her movements, eliciting insatiable moans from her own lips.

You can't hold yourself back, feeling a wave invade you at that exact moment and your intestines churn inside. You whimper softly, not taking long to announce that you were close.

Natasha, realizing this, knowing that you wouldn't be able to contain yourself, accelerates her movements, bumping her hips against yours in a strong and continuous friction, slamming inside of you fast enough to make you gasp for air.

She growls softly, pressing her lips against your neck possessively, feeling how you tremble beneath her.

Natasha was also close, her insides churning in a continuous spring as she continued to pleasure both of them, not even taking time to rest.

When your core started crushing her from the inside, that was enough to throw everything out the window.

Miss Romanoff pours herself into you in a promising way, marking you, claiming you as hers.

You feel the viscous liquid fill you completely, making you also reach your peak shortly after her, coming apart in a wobbly and weak way at the same time.

Natasha's breathed heavily against your neck, clouding your senses, the feeling too good to be true, and you knew that you’ll never look at her—or her lectures—the same way again.

[xtra7s]

shauna shipman x reader a/n: minor season three spoilers, angst and unhinged shauna ahead. NSFW (it's smut because shauna this season is making me feel things). afab reader.

you watched shauna storm off, refusing to participate in whatever crazy shit the group was making you do now. you felt bad because nat had been trying to boost morale, and van had worked hard on coming up with unique to entertain the group, but you understood why she wouldn't stay around. ever since losing the baby, everyone treated her differently—like she was a tightly wound coil about to snap.

they weren't wrong; you had seen her in a rage scribbling so fast in her diary, almost setting it fire. you often watched the way she tormented mari, and shauna could be cruel. however, there was something so tragic about her that called out to you.

losing her best friend, her baby, and then javi in quick succession would cause even the sanest of people to snap, but shauna's rage simmered quietly until she unleashed it on others. everyone feared her, but you. . . you were drawn to her.

excusing yourself, you left the circle and followed shauna. everyone else, too distracted to notice, didn't see you leave.

you found shauna kneeling at her baby's grave, whispering something unintelligible. you crept closer to eavesdrop, only to snap on a branch. her head snaps up, and she locks eyes with you. it's quiet for a moment as she eyes you up and down—a shiver ran up your spine. out of delight or fear, you didn't know. perhaps both.

quicker than the blink of an eye, shauna pressed a knife to your neck. "what are you doing here?" she hissed, holding you against a tree.

you struggled to form a response, shamelessly excited by the sharp blade digging into your neck. "i was just checking up on you, shauna," you promise.

"are you here for my baby? i won't let you anywhere near him," she snapped, her face inches from yours—you could feel her hot breath on your face.

"no, i'm not here for him. i'm here for you, shauna. i noticed you left the circle—"

"i don't want to listen to a bunch of dumbasses talk about how my best friend and baby needed to die," she spat, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. if this was anyone else, they'd be terrified—but you felt something different. pity. shauna resembled a scared animal backed into a corner.

so, going against your common sense, you leant forward—showing you weren't scared of her—and smashed your lips against hers. you pull back instantly, trying to gauge her reaction.

she was frozen in place, staring at you with wide eyes—gorgeous brown eyes that had hardened after the crash. the same eyes that you'd become smitten with ever since you tried out for the soccer squad.

a panic shot through you as you realised how dumb your mistake was. she just stared at you, her anger-filled eyes fading and revealing the truth—vulnerability.

shauna's lips were on yours again. they were hungry and demanding. her hands gripped your cheeks tightly as she devoured your mouth, pressing her body up against yours to keep you in place. you rest your hands on her waist, trying to ground her.

the bark was rough against your back, the thin material of your shirt doing nothing to stop it from scratching you. you tried to readjust into a more comfortable position, but shauna wasn't letting you move. instead, she pulled away and almost ripped your shirt off. you gasped softly, receiving an eyebrow raise from shauna—almost like she was asking you if you had a problem with how rough she was.

"strip," she barked. you immediately followed her commands, pulling your shorts to your ankles and stepping out of them, placing them next to your discarded shirt. shauna pulled her butterfly shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere on the floor and unbuckled her belt. "naked."

hesitantly, you reached behind and unhooked your bra. "have you done this before?" you question, pulling the straps down and finally exposing your boobs.

shauna stared hungrily at your chest, her eyes unmoving as she shook her head. "i've had sex, just not with a woman," she replied. her eyes finally met yours, "shouldn't be that hard to learn."

you were about to scoff when she recaptured your lips. it was a messy kiss, full of teeth and tongue as shauna unleashed her pent up anger on you. she squeezed your boobs, groping them like a horny teenage boy.

her knee pressed against your heat, revealing your dripping heat. she pulled away, yanking your panties down to your ankles before running a single finger through your slick. holding her finger to your face, she smirked at you, "i held a knife to your throat."

"it was hot," you shrugged. shauna growled, taking your lips into hers again. this kiss wasn't any nicer—but you wouldn't have it any other way. you wanted her passion. her anger. her hunger. shauna bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan and allowing her to shove her tongue down your throat.

her knee was pressed against your core but didn't move, while her hands rested on your boobs. you were seconds away from whining and begging her to do something when she pinched your left nipple. you gasp violently, and something dark stirs in her eyes. shauna's lips move to your throat, biting down on the pulse points before licking them better. all the while, her hands twisted and pinched your nipples deliciously.

"this is how i've always liked it," she mumbled against your neck, "rough," she made her way to your clavicle, shoving you higher up the tree with her knee and leaving marks on your collarbone. "jeff never wanted to hurt me. never wanted to leave evidence for jackie to find," she sneered. "but when i'm done with you, everyone will know what happened."

one hand remains, rough handling one of your nipples, while the other trails down your sternum. the lower her finger went, the more chills rushed up your spine. shauna placed a few more marks on your clavicle, then your chest before she pulled away to watch her finger tease you. she went agonisingly slow; her finger circled your belly button before it followed your snail trail down to your bush.

you gripped onto her shoulders to ground you. she made eye contact with you, delighting in how much pleasure you were getting from this, and she hadn't even touched your most sensitive area yet.

when she finally touched your clit, she remembered how she touched her own and swirled it delicately to begin with. you were incredibly wet, so she felt comfortable picking up her pace. your breathing quickened, a soft moan slipped from your lips, but that wasn't enough for her. she wanted to see you squirm. she wanted to hear you scream for her.

she traced your slit with her finger, as you mourned the loss of contact with your clit. without warning, she slipped her middle finger into your pussy—eliciting a gasp from you. "shauna," you whispered, feeling her pump it deliciously. your wetness made it to easy, so she added another one almost immediately. "curl them," you begged, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, pausing her ministrations as she worked out how to curl them. "you. . . you still move," you bit your lip, watching her glare at you.

"i know. i'm working it out, shut up," she hissed. her pace quickened, as she took your advice. you moans were no longer soft, gaining volume the faster she went. shauna picked up a rhythm, rocking you against the tree—but you were too blissed out to feel the pain of the bark scratching your back.

her thumb circled your clit, while she continued to pump two fingers in your pussy. she struggled at first, trying to grope your boob, finger your and play with your clit—it appeared to be too much for her inexperienced self—but eventually got the hang of it. you were in bliss, getting perfectly fucked by shauna, you felt bad for not returning the favour.

a burning sensation in your stomach began to soar, as shauna brought you closer to the edge. you could feel your orgasm was swiftly approaching. "shauna, holy shit. i'm so close, i'm almost there," you moaned. her pace quickened again, as shauna began violently fingering you. any pain was replaced by pleasure as you screamed her name. shauna suddenly realised how close everyone else was and didn't want this to end, and pressed her lips against yours to shut you up.

it wasn't until shauna put her mouth back on yours that you felt your orgasm come over you in waves. you moaned in to her mouth, as she fingered you through your orgasm. you panted as she finally pulled away, pressing her forehead against yours. "my turn," she growled.

you dropped to your knees, hooking your finger around her panties and ensuring you maintained eye contact with shauna as you pulled them down.

unable to wait any longer, eager to please her, you pressed your nose against her bush and inhaled her sex. tentatively, you kitten licked her clit—her hand roughly grabbed the back of your head and shoved your face into her pussy. needing no more instruction, you laved at her clit. she grunted softly, as your licks treasured her sensitive nub. you weren't satisfied with the noise she was making, however, and decided to draw moans out of her another way.

clutching her love handles, your nose nudged at her clit as you licked strips of her slit. your tongue dipped, causing a loud moan to erupt from her. shauna covered her mouth with her elbow, looking down at you fiercely. the grip on the back of your head tightened as she rocked her hips against you.

you ate her out like a starving woman, and she was your last meal. if this was winter, she might have been. but thankfully it was springtime.

shauna was close, you could tell. her hips rocked erratically as you began frantically eating her out. your nose rubbing against her clit was the final straw. shauna let out the loudest moan you'd heard as she came.

you lapped up her juices, eating her out through her orgasm before cleaning her up. when you finally pulled away, you looked up at her through your eyelashes and smirked at her face. shauna stared down at you and smiled—the first genuine smile you'd seen from her in a long time. it was a ghost of a smile, but it was still there.

"i think you should hold a knife to my throat more often," you joked.

"you should move in to my tent. . . in case i ever need to blow off some steam," she mumbled.

"okay, but i'm a big spoon—"

"i'm not spooning you," she snapped.

you raised your hand in surrender, "whatever you say, shauna." you smirked, knowing she'd crack, eventually.

[xtra7s]

could we pretty please get something about being in a flirty rivalry with Shauna shipman? thanks if you do :3

Tha's kinky, Shipman

Contains: afab Shauna, afab reader, angry sex, use of swear words, enemies to more. A/N: after I saw the end of episode two, I just couldn't let this ask sit in my inbox any longer😂, Enjoy, Shauna simps!

You don't like Shauna Shipman. You never liked her, not once since you met her. There was something dark about her, something that scared you, but you couldn't place your finger on it.

It certainly didn't help when she started to nitpick you for being a newbie in the team.

"You have to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" she told you with those dark eyes of her burning holes in your head. You tried and tried, but no matter what you did, it was never enough for Shauna.

It wasn't long enough that you started to reciprocate her behavior. Did she miss a goal or fell on her ass during practice? Oh you would for sure let her know. At every chance you get, you'll tease the shit out of her, watching as her eyes become dangerously dark. It's the same routine today. Monday afternoon, the sky is dark, the rain cold, but you still commit your mind and body to the bit. You are on the opposite team, facing Lottie, Natalie, Taissa and Shauna. A loud whistle marks the beginning of the game, giving everyone the sign to start.

You're up first, face to face with Shauna. She passess the ball to Mari, but she fails and lets it slip right into your grasp, earning exasperated insults from her teammates. You kick the ball with your right foot, trying to send it to Laura Lee, but it's swiftly stolen by the brunette, who now aims for the net. Just as she's about to score a goal, she slips in the mud, falling face first into it and losing the opportunity to score one point for her team. You, who ran after her, stop right at her feet, already savouring the words in your mouth.

"You're supposed to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" and oh it feels so good to say that. But Shauna has a different opinion. "You- fucker!" she's about to raise her fist and land it square on your face, but before she can do that, she's stopped by Taissa.

Now it's Gen's turn. She runs across the field, dodging the others, until she passes the ball to you. Fate wanted you to suffer Shauna's own fate. Just as you are about to score, you're yanked backwards by the back of your shirt, its edge pressing terribly hard on your neck and exposing your lower back to the cold winter's air, then, to the wet grass below. Shauna, that little bitch, is the culprit, smiling that fucking stupidly cruel smile of her as you writhe under her weight. She decided to sit directly on top of your hips, flashing her victory right on your face.

You couldn't stand her. But if that's the case, why everytime she stalks you during a game, falls on top of you and gives you that shit eating grin of hers, your heart skips a beat?

"What the fuck is your problem?!" you scream at her, watching as her face turns into a snarl. Did she really expect you to thank her for almost making you break your spine? "You are the one who fucking fell on top of me first!" it's not long that you two both scream at each other that Coach Scott comes, sending you on the sidelines until the game's over, forcing you to do five laps around the entire field.

You stop when six pm hits, standing in the locker room wet and cold like a stray puppy.

You try so hard not to give that crazy bitch next you any kind of attention, but she beats you to it. "You are so full of shit" she says, evidently not able to stop her mouth from spewing hate at you. "Excuse me? You are the one who started it!" a vein pops in your head, ready to pump blood in your heart and making you aggressive. "Yeah, because you fucking suck at soccer. Have you ever thought of doing something more your league? Like, I don't know, cheerleading? You'd be good at that"; Shauna doesn't grasp how that sounds until the last word spills from her lips. "Why, because I'm hot or because you'd like to see me in a skirt?" for a moment, her brain entertains the idea, picturing you in a skimpy cheerleader dress, cheering for her... What the fuck are you thinking?

"You'd look good..." she never meant for it to slip from her lips, already regretting it as you turn to her with a snarky look on your face. God, she wishes she could erase it, wishes she could force you to your knees and relish in your pain. Or pleasure. She's not really sure. "What was that?", Shauna makes the effort to not meet your gaze as she speaks, fearing that if she locks her eyes with yours, she won't be able to resist you. "No, I wouldn't; because all you could ever hope to become in this life is a bimbo. You are as dumb as them. I'm sure you'd like to get fucked like one too". Fucked like one? That's kinky, Shipman.

"I'd say bimbos deserve more respect: they sure have more of it than you" she shuts close her locker, the force of the impact sending droplets of water everywhere. She stomps over just in time for you to turn, slamming her hand on your throath and sending your head on the locker. "That's it. I'm fucking tired of you and your bullshit".

"And what are you gonna do about it, Shipman? Trample over me next practice? Fuck me in this locker room?"; oh you so deserved this.

Shauna doesn't even register her lips on yours until she hears your moan. She has you trapped between her and the locker, her hands bruising your hips with the sheer strength behind her touch.

The ghost of her teeth on your lips is harsh, biting and snarling like she's a wolf savouring its delicious prey. She's pressed so tightly against you that breathing proves difficult, your brain barely registering the lack of oxygen until she draws away, wiping a trail of spit with the back of her band, before assaulting your lips again.

She parts your legs with her knee, making space to slip her hand beneath your shorts. You’re wet enough for her to hook her pointer finger over the hood of your clit, but not enough to enter you just yet. Shauna kisses and licks at the neck of your skin, makes out with you like a starved woman, like your lips will be the last ones she will feel on hers. And when her fingers slide between your folds with ease, she pushes them in, gasping at how tightly you're gripping her.

"There it is. Look, you could be good at something, if you were a slut" those dark eyes of hers look into you, her lips curling in a cruel smirk. She's really taking pleasure in hurting you, isn't she?

You don't want to let her words affect you, but you guess you don't know any better. "Fuck off Shipman" you say between gritted teeth, anger stronger than pleasure is. But when she straightens her fingers inside, touching a spot that makes you see stars, you gasp loudly, earning a sick laugh from your rival.

You don't last long, pleasure taking a hold of your brain. White flashes beneath your eyelids, so close to the edge that you can practically feel it. But you're moving too much for Shauna's liking: she presses against you by the height of her crotch, effectively trapping you more into her space. You come under her touches, finally losing yourself in pleasure, staining your and her jersey probably forever.

You are far too tired, limbs so weak that you slide right down on the ground. Just when you think she's gonna be soft, that she will hold you and ask you if you are okay, Shauna walks towards the locker room's exit, a barely disguised warm gaze in her eyes. "Clean yourself up" she says, leaving you alone.

It's still raining when Shauna sits at the bus stop. She kicks away pebbles with her foot, replaying what she did to you tonight over and over again. Almost instinctively, she looks at the hand that made you ride your high, only to find faint traces of you on them.

The blush that spreads through her face could rival the reddest of tomatoes, and she quickly fishes for a napkin and the remnants of water in her bottle, cleaning herself at the best she could.

Shit. That was... Wow.

If Shauna really hates you, then why does she wants to see that fucked out look on your face again? And why does her heart skip a beat thinking about you? Ah! "Fuck".