#and if you try to make it all about you then you are missing the point

[kingkat12]

on the record (clark kent x reader)

WARNINGS: piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), banter, teasing, secret office romance, established relationship, sort of sex tape but not rlly cause it'd be an audio sex tape??, fluff, porn with plot, no spoilers!<3

summary: finally, you get that interview with Superman that could make or break your career-- however, it will be done his way, or no way.

word count: 4,362

a/n: hey everyone!! I literally never write anything that isn't Bill Skarsgård related, but I saw the Superman movie today and couldn't help thinking how HOT David Corenswet was!!! so this fic goes out to my best friend who I saw this movie with, hope you like it you little gremlin (ily babes let's play starstable soon tihii) credits to @krayonimous for the gif!!<3

"Oh, come on,"

My words were whispered under my breath, dragged out by my annoyance at the sight of the front page of The Daily Planet today.

Superman Speaks: The Peace-Mission, by Clark Kent.

I pushed the paper away like it offended me, letting it slide crooked across my desk. The headline still stared up at me, taunting as ever, and I could practically hear his voice in it-- soft-spoken, heavy with concern, and full of just enough gravitas to make even the skeptics stop and feel something.

It was getting annoying, at this point-- every other week came another exclusive, and yet another quiet little masterstroke from Kent. Would it ever end?

Clark's desk was still empty, of course. The chair next to mine was untouched, his coat not draped over it yet, and I could feel my irritation fester. If that had been me, I'd have been fired a month ago. But because of these damn exclusive Superman interviews, he had secured himself a spot at the company, no matter what.

I tapped my pen against the edge of my desk-- once, twice, just to give myself something to do with the irritation.

And then, right on cue, the elevator dinged.

Voices rose-- someone greeted him before I saw him, and then there he was, walking in like he had just stepped off the cover of his own feature, glasses a little fogged from the humidity, tie not even pretending to be straight. Still, with perfectly tousled dark hair like that, and with eyes the shade of dreamy lagoons, it was impossible not to stare. He smiled, nodded, and offered a sheepish morning to the general hum of recognition around him for getting the front page. And then, just to top it off, someone clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him on 'another one'.

... God.

He even had the nerve to look embarrassed about it.

I looked back at my screen like I was busy, like I wasn’t tracking the exact number of steps it took him to get from the elevator to his chair, like I didn’t hear the gentle thud of his bag hitting the floor next to mine--

“Morning,” Clark murmured, settling into his chair. 

“Barely,” I replied, eyes on my inbox-- if I allowed myself to look at him, I'd just think about how broad his shoulders were now that he was so close, and I couldn't do that to myself, not at work.

Clark didn’t respond right away; he just scooted his chair in with unnecessary force, trying to get my attention. I didn’t look over, but I knew he was smiling. “You saw the story?” he asked, all innocence.

"Impossible to miss,"

"What did you think?"

Inhaling sharply, I shrugged; "I think it's very convenient that you're always at the right place at the right time,"

Clark huffed a quiet laugh; “You didn’t like it,"

“Oh, I never said that,”

“You didn’t have to,"

I finally glanced at him, trying not to gawk at his beauty. Clark was already watching me, elbows on his desk, with that same irritating softness around his plush mouth that made him look more sincere than he had any right to be. His tie was really a disaster, though-- looped too tight, one side bunched like he had gotten distracted halfway through. 

Not that anyone but me would notice or care; it was sort of endearing on days when he didn't have a new front-page Superman interview, anyway. “It's just interesting, that's all," I said. "That Superman only talks to you. One could argue that you might be bribing him."

That only made Clark's boyish smirk widen. “Superman is a man of the law,” he murmured, teasing as always. “He would never accept bribes. I ask and he talks, that's all,”

“Mhm... Right,"

I turned back to my screen, biting down on a grin myself. I didn’t need to look at him to feel the air crackle between us. The buzz of it always gave me a high-- always. What had started out as office friction had turned into something sharper, something hotter, and now it sat between our desks like a huge elephant no one wanted to admit was there.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clark lean back and stretch slightly, his tight, white shirt stretching over his broad chest-- he had the balls to look smug about this, yet that slight rosy colour appearing in his cheeks contradicted his every move. He enjoyed this too, I was certain of it. “You know,” he murmured. “You could always pitch for the next one. Superman might be up to giving you an interview... Everyone knows you're the best writer in the office.”

I looked at him slowly, not yet impressed. “Oh, really now?”

Clark shrugged again, lifting his hands in faux surrender. “It’s not my fault he likes talking to me,”

I gave him a flat look, snorting. “You’re intolerable,"

“I think you should try,” he murmured, dragging a folder out of his bag as he disregarded my last words. “He might be up for it. On the record, and everything."

That was it-- my eyes rounded out. "On... the record?" 

That was new.

Clark's blue eyes practically shimmered as he put his earbuds in, casual as ever, yet his smirk betrayed him; "Who knows? You might get lucky tonight,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The scent hit me before I even dropped my keys-- garlic, butter, and something rich and comforting I couldn't put my finger on. I stopped halfway through taking off my coat, catching sight of him in the kitchen; Clark, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stirring something in my favourite pan like he had lived here for years.

I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. This was my favourite sight to come home to. 

I could already sense the smile in his voice without him having to turn to me; “Hey, you,” he murmured.

Oh, wow. “You made dinner,” I breathed, watching the way his white shirt stretched across his broad back-- finally, I could gawk at him now that we weren't at work.

“You were grumpy this morning,” Clark replied, unaware of the way I was looking at him right now; or was he? “I figured you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t make you.”

Of course. Of course he'd do this after our back-and-forth banter this morning. "I wasn't grumpy," I put my coat away before finally approaching Clark, leaning against the kitchen counter as I tried to see what he was making. "But you know I can't be acting over the moon for you at the office. Everyone would catch on."

He hummed, still stirring. I watched him work, letting the silence stretch between us in a way that didn’t feel uncomfortable. It never did with him-- not here, not like this. The air felt warmer than it should have, like the kitchen lights had dimmed a little just for the two of us. “Smells good,” I murmured, my back pressing against the kitchen counter as I turned, reaching up to brush a soft, black strand of his hair away from his forehead. 

“It’s your favourite,” He said it without looking up, like it wasn’t a big deal, like he hadn’t planned this out from the moment he left the office. Sweet, sweet boy. 

I could only smile; I liked us when we were alone, when we didn't have to hide our feelings. No cape, no headlines, no rivalry-- just Clark in my kitchen, sleeves rolled, cooking for me because he wanted to. Because underneath everything, he knew me, and I knew him.

... More than anyone.

“Clark,” I murmured softly, dreading my next words. "I'm worried someone's going to find out that you're getting these Superman interviews because... well, you are Superman. I wouldn't want you to blow your own cover."

Clark didn't answer anything at first-- then, his brows furrowed into that look I knew too well. "Is that why you were so grumpy this morning?"

"I wasn't grumpy," I mumbled, tracing a line down his broad shoulder to his hand. "Just concerned."

Clark finally set the spoon down, resting it carefully on the edge of the pan before turning to face me fully. His blue eyes were unreadable, and it made my anxiety bubble.  “I appreciate you worrying,” he said, voice low and soft. “But I’ve been doing this a long time. I know how to keep the lines separate.”

I searched his face, and the way his jaw flexed as he chose his words carefully. I scanned the quiet certainty in his posture, how even now (smelling like garlic and city air) he held himself like someone who had the world to carry. “I know you do,” I admitted. “But... still. Every time someone jokes about how close you are with Superman, I feel like I’m holding my breath.”

At that, Clark snorted, cracking up into a smile; "You're the one that makes the most jokes about that,"

"Yeah, but that's because!--"

"If anything, you're the instigator of those rumours,"

"I'm not, I just-- Clark, do you hear what I'm telling you?"

Muting his laughter, he let his shoulders slouch, showing that he was backing down. "I do have a solution, though," he murmured. "I wasn't joking about what I said earlier."

I didn't need a mirror to know my eyes shot out a spark or two. "Me interviewing you?"

"Yes,"

"As Superman?"

"Yes,"

"That sounds... fair," I mumbled. "Finally, you won't know the questions beforehand. It's actually much more ethically sourced than how you do it, if we're taking media laws into account."

Clark huffed a quiet laugh, brushing his fingers along the edge of the counter before stepping just a little closer to me. “Ethically sourced?” he echoed. “You’re going to cite journalism codes of conduct now?”

“I might,” I said, chin lifted. “Someone has to keep you humble.”

His hand found my waist-- light, familiar, and grounding. “So, let me get this straight,” he murmured, voice dipping just slightly. “This will be a legitimate, recorded interview with Superman. Questions unapproved. No edits. No off-the-record pauses.”

“Exactly,” I nodded once, hoping to bite down my smirk. “Full transparency.”

He tilted his head, black hair kissing his forehead, blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully behind his glasses-- “Will you go soft on him?”

“No,” came my answer, instant as ever. “I’m going to grill him like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Clark grinned, all teeth this time. “I’d expect nothing less,”

The space between us thinned again, shrinking in that way it always did when we weren’t pretending. His thumb rubbed a slow, absent circle at the small of my back, and the scent of garlic and butter and whatever else he’d conjured tonight clung to the warmth around us like something domestic we were still getting used to.

“I can’t believe you’re agreeing to this,” I said, a little breathless, more off-guard than I meant to sound.

“You’ve wanted to get him in the hot seat for months,” he said, the excitement clear in his voice. “If it makes you feel better, and if it keeps people from asking too many questions, then yeah, Let’s do it. On the record.”

I held my breath, feeling my heartbeat soar. "Now?"

"Sure," Clark shrugged. He pulled me closer like it was no big deal, like he didn't know that every touch from him set me on fire-- "But if we're doing this, then we're going to do it my way."

"... What?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Oh, I should've known.

I should've known that Clark would do something like this, that cheeky bastard.

My attitude this morning could've set this off too, I had no idea-- all I knew was that I had to keep quiet if I wanted this audio to be able to go on the record. 

Still, it was impossible not to squirm as Clark's big hands greedily grabbed at my hips, long fingers caressing my skin as his tongue swirled my right hip-bone; holy fuck. He reached for my underwear, tugging it upward to get better access, to get me twitching harder against my duvet. "You've-- You've got a lot of heat on social media lately," I started, stumbling through my questions whilst running my hands through Clark's thick locks as he continued to make me weak. 

He hummed against my skin, leaving wet kisses up along my stomach. "I don't read that stuff," he murmured. "Superman doesn't have time for selfies."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. How could he be so composed, even now? Even after he somehow managed to get me out of my clothes with all of his intact and on? "You're gonna-- You're gonna refer to yourself in third person?" I glanced at the audio recording device I had propped on the bed, swallowing hard as Clark's kisses started darting down again, his lips brushing against the hem of my dampening underwear. 

"Hm?" he answered, mind clearly wandering. 

"This is on the record-- Superman,"

"And what about it?"

"Doesn't it sound a bit--" My breath hitched as Clark's hands left my hips, now grabbing at the underside of my thighs to spread my legs. I glanced down at how he had situated himself between them, comfortable and cocky as ever, blue eyes darkening with want. My voice was barely a squeak; "Pompous?"

At that, Clark raised a brow at me, clearly amused. "Really, now? Pompous?"

I decided not to push it-- I had other things to focus on, now that I really had Superman here...

Between my legs. 

"Today, the-- the secretary of defence said he was going to--" Before I could stop it, my breath hitched once again, watching Clark press open-mouthed kisses against my clothed clit. Was he trying to make this impossible? Totally. This interview would be deemed impossible by any other interviewer, surely, but me? Nu-uh. I was going to prevail, no matter how hard he made this for me. "Look into your actions," I continued. "He's going to-- look into them."

At that, Clark laughed; I could feel the rumble of his chest vibrate the bed, with how big he was compared to me. 

"That's funny?" I snapped, trying to gain some leverage.

Clark raised himself a bit, blinking up at me with that classic, cocky, all-American boy smile like he had done nothing wrong. "My actions?" he echoed, hooking his fingers around my underwear. "I stopped a war."

I shrugged, hoping to act as normal; "Maybe,"

"Not maybe," he huffed, peeling my panties down my thighs. "I did."

"Well, you did illegally enter a country?--"

"For the sake of peace," Clark was getting snappy now; if I hadn't heard it in his voice, I would've pieced it together with how he tossed away my underwear, settling between my legs once again. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?" I mumbled.

"Like that,"

Before I could pry more, before I could say anything proper, my body betrayed me-- my back arched against the feeling of his warm breath falling against my soaked sex, and I held back a whimper that I certainly didn't want on my recording machine. 

"Be nice," Clark said, before gently wrapping his lips around my clit without warning, suckling me softly.

My hands practically flew into his dark, thick hair as I tried to cushion my moans into my pillow, but to no avail-- a quiet moan left me, and I could feel Clark smile against me. Still, I knew I had to keep my brain sharp, knew I couldn't give in this easily; "Did you-- consult with the president? Before trespassing?"

At that, Clark groaned against me, sending vibrations up along my spine that I had never felt before. "No," he mumbled against my sex, before grabbing my thighs harder, pushing them further against me like he wanted me to fold in half. I could only whimper as he then laved his tongue between my folds, circling my clit with the softest kitten-licks known to man-- he was trying to drive me nuts, wasn't he? 

"Fuck," I breathed. "Fuck, so you?-- fuck--"

"Language," 

"-- Sorry," 

I could feel his smooth skin against my inner thighs, freshly shaven, and the sensation only added to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside me with every move. Clark's tongue moved in slow, teasing circles now, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against me, icy-blue eyes flicking up to watch my reaction every so often.

I wasn't going to let him win; he could have the front page for all that I cared, but not this. I sucked in a sharp breath, ready to finally let out a cohesive sentence; "Do you know why that-- looks bad?"

Clark didn't answer, too busy wrapping his lips around my clit again, a little firmer this time, which was enough to have me fighting the urge to clamp my legs around his head. 

"Superman," I tried, glancing at the recording device once more; was this footage even usable? Should I bother not calling him his real name? "It seemed like you were acting as a-- as a representative of the United States without having consulted the-- the government?"

Irked, Clark raised himself to properly look at me; with his big hands still gripping the underside of my thighs, plush mouth glistening with my slick, he suddenly didn't seem so happy to be answering my questions anymore. "I wasn't representing anybody except for me," 

"Did you not think about-- what it would look like?" Now that I wasn't getting the life sucked out of me, I could finally catch my breath. I propped myself up on my shaky elbows, meeting Clark's blue eyes with compassion. "I understand that you must've been under a lot of stress, but--"

"Oh, you have no idea,"

"But could you perhaps have considered the consequences?--"

"That wasn't as important as!--"

"What is more important than avoiding war, Superman?--"

"People were going to die!" 

At that, we both stilled. 

My mouth parted in shock at the fact that sweet, gentle Clark had raised his voice at me like that. I stared down at him, frozen. 

It didn't take long before he raised himself to his knees, visibly taken aback by how much my questions were affecting him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to recover, as his hands slowly lifted from my thighs, letting them naturally crease over his. 

None of us spoke until I dared-- "I'm sorry,"

Clark didn't move. Avoided my gaze. Didn't breathe either, as far as I could tell. 

With a sigh, I reached for the audio recording device, shutting it off; that was enough for now. The interview wasn't as important as what was happening in front of me. I didn't care that I was undressed. I didn't care. Carefully, I sat up, daring to gently cup his face; "Clark," I murmured. "You're a good man. You did what you thought was right. I don't hold that against you, no one does."

Clark's jaw was tight under my palm-- still warm, still damp from me, but set. “I know you don’t hold it against me,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, but rough. “But you still asked, like you wanted me to say it was wrong. Like you thought it was."

“I don’t want you to say it was wrong,” I whispered, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “I want to know that you at least thought about it, Clark... That you didn’t just act on instinct or impulse."

His eyes flicked up to mine at that, too fast, too sharp. 

There it was-- proof that Superman was human, in his own way. Impulsive. Rash. Passionate. Rattled with guilt. 

Clark exhaled like it hurt to admit his mistakes, even though he hadn't said them out loud. He knew that I knew. Carefully, he leaned into my touch, just barely, his hands now hovering over my legs, unsure if he was still allowed to touch me after raising his voice, like that one slip of temper meant he didn’t get softness anymore.

My fingers sank into his hair again, stroking through it slower now, calmer. "You saved the day, Superman," I murmured, a trying smile finding its way to my lips. "That's what's important, okay?"

"Okay," Clark echoed, his heavy blue gaze avoiding mine. 

Enough. I couldn't stand to look at that sad face anymore; "Let's forget the world for a moment, hm?" I pressed a kiss to the right corner of his mouth. "It's just you and me, now," Left. "And that wouldn't be possible without you, so come here and reap your reward."

Finally, Clark's eyes peeked up at me again, interest spiking. "What do you?--"

I didn't let him finish that sentence. 

It also didn't take long before my arms draped around his neck, pulling him down with me onto the bed with a heated kiss. Clark accepted, caging me with his broad shoulders, mouth moving against mine like he wanted to remember every curve, every push, every whimper; he let out a pleasured sigh and smiled into the kiss, melting my heart.

Clark's passion was all-taking-- he moved to softly nibble on my earlobe, licking a stripe up the shell, which he knew always got me giggling, as we got him out of his black jeans. I could feel the way our breaths clashed, how our chests pressed together in a moment of fire none of us could control, pure impulse, before his reassuring words came as always; "I've got you," he murmured, the soft head of his cock prodding at my entrance, his big, calloused hands once again gripping at my thighs.

"Need you," I breathed, nipping at his strong jaw. "Want you, Clark-- need you."

Clark hummed; "Bet," he teased, before rocking forward, just enough for the head to push inside. 

The whimpers that fell from my mouth were impossible to stop, and my hands gave his dark hair an involuntary tug. "Fuck,"

I knew he didn't like swearing, and I knew that'd be the key to getting what I wanted. With an annoyed huff, Clark pushed his cock into me, letting out a shaky sigh against my shoulder as I shuddered against him. Thankfully, he couldn't see my sheepish smile of victory; I had waited for this since the second I saw that front page article. This feeling. Him inside of me. Just us.

The first few thrusts were deeper than usual, probably fueled by our fiery interview and my affinity for cuss-words tonight, but I didn't mind-- being filled up by Clark was such heaven, that I didn't really care how it happened. I'd sell my soul for this, surely; for my fingers to burn with euphoria coursing through my veins. 

Clark pulled out halfway and pushed into me again, firmer this time, making my breath hitch as my nails left crescent moons into his broad back. "You feel so good," he murmured, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had me melting into my duvets. "Missed you like this."

"Missed you too," I moaned, pressing a weak kiss to his shoulder. "Stop-- saving the world all the goddamn-- time."

At that, Clark could only laugh; "Cause this is more important, yeah?"

"Obviously,"

"Right," he purred, his slow, deep, dragging thrusts practically muting me from that point on. I could only clench around his thick length, suppressing my cries of pleasure against the muscular range of his shoulders. 

"Want me to stop saving everyone, hm?" Clark went on; "Want me to stay here and take care of you?"

I could only whimper-- yes, yes, yes. 

With a satisfactory hum, his plush lips found my throat, sucking a mark against my skin, branding me over and over; he might as well have stamped a Superman-stamp on my neck. "I would if I could," Clark huffed, groaning against my skin; I felt his cock twitch inside of me at the intrigue of that thought, and it made me clutch him harder as he fucked me into the mattress, instincts taking over. "Would stay here-- make you feel good, make you cum, make you-- satisfied--"

I could hear it in the roughness of his voice that he was close, closer than he usually was at this point. Was it really our heated arguments today that had fried both our nerves? I couldn't tell. 

To delay just a moment more, to continue revelling in our wet union, Clark propped himself up on his knees, guiding my legs over his thighs again-- his hand slipped between us, thumb finding my clit, rubbing firm circles, intent on getting me over the edge first. Fucking gentleman. 

I choked down another lewd moan, the pleasure building quicker than expected. "God, Clark, I-- I can't--"

"It's okay," he murmured, watching me with those big, blue, loving eyes I adored. "Want you to let go when you're close, okay? Could you-- Could you do that for me?"

"Anything," I breathed. "Anything for you."

Clark let out a hum of approval, warm as always, as my vision started going hazy; he continued circling my clit with the nicest of pressures, making my toes curl, making my breath catch, and I soon enough had to tell myself to breathe, chanting it over and over in my head. Without meaning to, in the midst of me fighting the building feeling in my whole body, I shifted my hips-- I didn't mean for it to angle Clark deeper, but it gave me the grandest of rewards.

Clark let out the filthiest groan, feeling his cock engulfed in wet, tight heat, and that did it for him. 

I didn't mean to, I swear.

His right hand left my clit, and with both, he now gripped my hips tighter as his thrusts turned erratic, desperate, impulsive, but with awareness of his strength; it didn't take long before he buried himself inside of me with a deep, shuddering gasp of relief. His forehead dropped against mine as he spilled inside me, body trembling from the force of it, panting with the shock of his unexpected release.

I had no idea what came over me, or how it happened-- but with how Clark was angled, it didn't take more than two upward rolls of my hips, helped by his strong hands, to have my clit pressing against his body, and it was a sensation so light, so desperate, so chased and sought by all-taking arousal, that it shattered me even harder when I realized I was cumming from practically... nothing. My legs trembled as I felt my clit pulse, lashes fluttering shut at the intense rush.

Only Clark could have me falling apart like that, and only I could have Superman collapse like this on a Friday night.

He might not be a man-- but he surely fucked like one. 

[satellitespinner]

ROOMMATE!ELLIE HCS

. ✦ ݁ ˖ word count: 4.0k

. ✦ ݁ ˖ content warnings : college!au, rich!reader, ellie is a cunt, weeeedd, lesbian drama, kinda enemies to lovers, comphet!reader, this is lowkey crack, fluff, angst, ellie is a bitch, jesse and dina are here (who knew!) cat mention, love island mention lol im so sorry, cheating kinda, nonconsenual recording and posting (not ellie.) SMUT, hickeys, fingering (r!rec) strap sex (r!rec) cum eating (r!rec) recording (by ellie) dirty talk, pet names, short smut sequence, reader has hair. willing to do a part 2!!!!

thank you to my lover @valeisaslut for proofreading and assiting with this <3

As always, comments, critiques, and reblogs are always welcome! talk to me and i’ll talk back! ⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

find the dividers i used HERE!

roommate!ellie who moves into the luxurious dorms 3 days after you do, with only her backpack and sanity in tow.

roommate!ellie who is already pissed, it's raining in September and she still has to move all her shit in so she can get comfortable before class starts.

she immediately notices what kind of environment she has stumbled into, as there's only two types of people at a school like this: entitled nepo baby rich girls, and hot girl fit jocks who are nine times out of ten majoring in medicine or law.

was she generalizing? yes.

did she care? no.

her eyes immediately shift over to your fancy coffee maker, and the stupid cute rug outside of your bedroom door. she silently thanks god for the fact that she's in a suite, and not cooped up in some tight fit dorm where her roommate is practically forced down her throat at all times.

roommate!ellie is shocked to say the least, when you scurry out of your room to greet her. you looked.. wealthy. hair neatly pushed out of your face, gold bangles complimenting your skin neatly, and a fat wad of gum that squished between your teeth when you spoke.

“Hi!” you greet her sweetly. ellie notices the way your skin crinkles under your eyes when you smile.

roommate!ellie who gives you a small nod and a tight lipped smile, choosing to keep her distance rather than engaging with you.

you decide not to take her nonchalance to heart and direct her to where her room is. maybe she's just quiet!

roommate!ellie who does not leave her room… but you can hear her rock music blasting through the walls and into the late hours of the night.

when you do see her, it's usually a flash and then she's gone, a quick trip to the kitchen when she doesn't expect you to be awake on the couch, or her scurrying off to class or work.

roommate!ellie who gets so fucking annoyed when you bring your friends to the dorm.. like overly annoyed. as soon as you guys enter, she doesn't miss a beat. “Can you guys, like - go obsess over guys in your room?” you then sigh and just lead them to your own room.

her snarky remarks would lead others to expect that you were the worst human on the planet.

one day she overhears you on the phone with the bank, and can't help but mutter, “What? Daddy put a limit on your black card?” and roll her eyes. you just frown and take your conversation to the bedroom.

roommate!ellie feels a little bad, but unfortunately not bad enough to stop. she torments you in little ways, like telling you to fuck off when you ask her to watch love island with you, or giving dina and jesse that look when you get back from class.

you didn't know why your new roommate resented you so much, but it hurt your feelings cause like? you didn't do anything wrong, you were just trying to make friends with her :(

roommate!ellie who knew exactly why she loathed you. she envied you. your perfect wealth, your perfect status, your perfect boyfriend, who she hadn’t even met but could already guess was just as privileged and perfect as you were. but most of all, she envied the way you never had to worry about money or future, things she had to worry about since she gained consciousness. it clearly wasn’t your fault, but the resentment in her chest made it impossible to bond with you.

roommate!ellie who got into this school by a scholarship she worked hard as hell to get. joel wasn't poor, but still didn't have enough to buy her a space on the “rich people” campus. she was determined, to say the least, to prove to herself and others that money wasn’t everything. that she could have a future as bright as everyone else from the ground up, no silver spoon rusting in her mouth.

by this point, roommate!ellie has made it her life’s mission to embarrass you. she teased you like no other, most of her hits directed at your wealth. she even went as far as insulting your intelligence, at which you responded by scoffing and reminding her of the acceptance rate of the school. “I’m here for a reason, Ellie.” you’d say.

as the leaves shifted colours and snow coated campus roommate!ellie has only gotten worse, you slowly notice the uptick in her irritability after her work hours go up. you notice jesse and dina less and less as it gets colder, and you can hear ellie crying more often.

at this point you’ve started to grow curious about your mysterious roommate, she was practically an enigma to you.

so… what better to do than to snoop?

roommate!ellie’s room resembled that of a teenage boy, and his alcoholic divorced father at the same time. you tiptoed around, eyes catching on multiple rock posters that you almost recognized.

her room was messy, an accurate depiction of the mind you so desperately wanted to know. you laugh at a few of her items, a bong sitting beside her tv, and a few what look to be empty carts laying beside it. then your eyes shift to her bedside table, a leather journal lay closed beside her lamp. you don't mean to be nosy. but the journal is just sitting there, staring back at you.

you flip to the most recent entry, dated to be two nights ago

“Nothing is working, a ticket back home is almost 2 thousand dollars. i dont want to stay here for christmas.”

you move a hand to your mouth, a weird sort of sadness washes over your body. your empathetic to her situation. youre about to close the book and exit her room when your eyes graze over a piece of paper folded in the back of the journal. curiosity gets the better of you, you gently unfold the tattered paper, it looks older than the rest of the book.

its a simple pencil drawing, a sketch of you sleeping on the couch, a few Z’s are written above your head in the same scrappy handwriting.

you sigh and retreat back to your room before she arrives home.

roommate!ellie who hears your boyfriend before she sees him.

shes already had a shitty day. she was late to class because of her fucking trucks being too loose, some prick spilt coffee all over her white t shirt, and jesse and dina wouldn’t stop talking about her “crush on her cute roommate.”

and when ellie enters the suite, ready to flop onto the couch and die, she's met with the soft banging of your headboard and your boyfriends rather loud grunts. your soft moans fill the air, causing ellie’s ears to flush red.

she slams her backpack down with a little too much force, paying the fact that her laptop could very much be broken no mind. she practically stomps over to your door, and the moans of your boyfriend's name stop as soon as it collides with her fist.

she hears shuffling through the door, but she doesn't wait for you to chase him out and apologize. instead, she makes her way back into her own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

roommate!ellie ignores your apologetic texts and the few knocks on her door to wander over to her dresser and roll a joint. she hates it here.

roommate!ellie who only gets worse. she calls you names under her breath when you make her dinner as a peace offering, and ignores you when you ask how her day went. this time however, you just nod. wracking your mind on how ellie must feel.

to her, you’re probably the annoying prissy roommate who doesn’t know when to stop.

you sympathize with her from a distance, the idea of plane tickets slowly creeping up on you.

roommate!ellie doesnt do college parties. she doesnt do recreational drinking and meaningless small talk. but guess who does? dina and jesse, and.. you.

roommate!ellie is already annoyed when jesse and dina arrive, you had invited them to pregame in the kitchen alongside you and your equally as rich friends. ellie was quick to speak for them all, a loud no leaving her mouth. she hears one of your friends whisper something along the lines of ‘Told you.” as they walk back into her room.

roommate!ellie’s friends are quick to judge her based on her hostile behaviour.

“I mean, don't you think you're being a bit too mean..?” jesse asks hesitantly. before bringing the glass bong to his lips.

“Maybe she isn’t as bad as you think?” dina suggests, wrapping her thick locks around a curling iron, her focus is on the mirror but her ears tune in intensively.

roommate!ellie doesn't care, she rants about the most minuscule things as she drives.

the party is loud, full of strangers and she can smell the sweat from outside. she groans as the group enters, immediately met with the sight of you grinding onto your boyfriend, his hands on your waist as you sway your his to the rhythm of the song, his expression is dull, uninterested. as if he didn't have the most beautiful girl dancing on him, ellie shakes the thought and walks over to the counter for a drink.

ellie wasn’t drunk, she was buzzed at the most. she ends up on the back porch with some junior, Cat. she was nice, short black hair cut into a bob, l covered in tattoos, she reminded ellie of her sketchbook.

cat was funny, she knew just what to say and how to say it. but ellie’s mind just wasn't there. she decided to ignore the feeling, and allows cat to drag her inside the house to dance.

cat grinds against her for a while, black mini dress slipping above her thighs. ellie’s hands move up and down her waist. ellie pulls the girl closer, her lip makes home between her teeth as cat moves her lips over her neck.

ellie quickly pulls her into a messy kiss, lips moving against her own loudly. cat stops her movements, pulling ellie closer by the neck. ellie opens her eyes as cat pulls away, her eyes meet your own across the room, she couldn’t really decipher what you were feeling, but she did notice that you were alone. polo wearing boyfriend nowhere to be found, ellie rolls her eyes.

“Do you wanna go upstairs..?” cat whispers, her lips gently brushing over ellie’s ear. now, ellie wasnt one for one time hookups, but cats sultry tone corrupts her. so, she accepts.

cat leads ellie up the stairs, fiddling with a few door knobs, all the bedrooms were already pre occupied with other horny students trying to get laid. cat sighs, and pulls ellie towards the bathroom. “no line?” ellie questions. cat laughs and knocks gently on the door.

when the door opens ellie and cat are greeted with an embarrassed blonde, one of your prissy sorority friends, wiping her mouth as she leads her male counterpart out the door. a face ellie is sure she recognizes. but she can't exactly put her finger on it.

she shakes the thought, and follows cat into the bathroom.

roommate!ellie who notices when your boyfriends nice guy facade starts to falter. she notices when your arguments bleed from your bedroom, to the living room, his loud booming voice overpowering yours. she noticed when he began to let the word bitch slip out during petty disputes. and she especially noticed when you would cry over him in the late hours of the night.

sure, roommate!ellie was an asshole, but she wasn't evil.

“Hey.” she whispered, her pajama clad frame resting against the door frame.

you were quick to wipe your tears, standing up from the edge of your bed. “What do you need, ellie?” you approach, “Here to rub it in my face that im having a hard time?” you scoff, ellie’s eyes widen her words jumping from her mouth.

“No i-” she tries to reason, but to no avail.

“Just mind your own! You have never cared about my feelings before, so just - Fuck off, ellie!” you all but whisper, ellie was never seen you like this. mean, cold. she felt like she deserved it.

roommate!ellie who continues to bring her friends over and stink up the house with weed, and blast rock music late at night. but she does it, respectfully?

now, she texts you in advance, and sometimes even asks you first. It wasn't complete selflessness, but it was baby steps.

roommate!ellie who sits down next to you one day when you're watching tv, some cringe reality show that you had been binging.

it feels.. normal, as if she hadn’t been barking insults at you for the past few months. you two laugh at the contestants, she gives her input on the whole show.

“You remind me of Amayah,” she laughs “sensitive gangster.” you laugh loudly. lightly punching ellie in the arm. you two settle once again, the episode halfway over by now.

”You want food?” you ask, opening your phone up to the doordash app. ellie hesitates for a moment. her face unsure.

“I’ll pay. Remember, daddy’s black card?” you wink at her, already punching in your order. ellie agrees reluctantly, and you type hers in too.

roommate!ellie who begins writing in her journal about you. I mean, she was already writing about you. but that was about how much she hated you.

roommate!ellie who feels like she's been shot when she hears you return from class with your stupid boyfriend in tow.

roommate!ellie who decides to swallow her pride and leave her room when he's over. but when she exits her room she is met with a very familiar face, the guy from the party. your boyfriend is quick to meet her gaze, guilt, fear, and probably regret wash your present in hand. over him. he knows, she knows.

“Ellie! this is my boyfriend!” you introduce him by name, unsure if they’ve ever met before. your smile is wide, arm wrapped around his muscled one. if only you knew.

roommate!ellie who doesnt know how shes gonna tell you. you were just starting to get along and she’s not sure how you're gonna react to her telling you that she thinks your boyfriend is cheating on you. with no proof.

roommate!ellie who decides that it isn’t her place to tell you, she isn’t even fully sure yet. and doesn't want to ruin your progress.

roommate!ellie starts going out with cat, its just.. dates. and sex.

roommate!ellie who just cant stop thinking about you. even when you're together, watching love island in the living room. she thinks about you when shes studying, when she’s been dragged to a party by dina, and even when shes knuckles deep inside of her not-so-girlfriend.

roommate!ellie who makes the totally rational decision to start avoiding you, in order to dissolve her tiny crush.

roommate!ellie who one day decides to buy you a christmas present, shes still coping. it’s a simple gift, a small stuffed animal that reminded her of you the second she saw it.

roommate!ellie who rolls her eyes when she enters the dorm, your friends filling the kitchen space. her eyes immediately shift to the shady blonde from the party. she doesn't greet you instead retreating to her room to pack a bowl. your present in hand.

roommate!ellie immediately calls joel for help, ranting about you, and your boyfriend, and your fucked up friends and how much she wants to kiss you. well she doesnt say that.

roommate!ellie who decides she's going to tell you, you don't deserve to be surrounded by people who disrespect you. besides her.

well it turns out, roommate!ellie didn't have to tell you. because when she checked her snap, there was real footage of you and your boyfriend. posted for everyone to see.

roommate!ellie is the first person to send you the video,

williams: this u?

williams: sent a story.

roommate!ellie hears you scream all the way from her bedroom, she can tell you tried to cover it with a pillow. but she still heard it.

you stomp into her room, silky pajamas leaving little to the imagination. tears stream down your face.

“Did you know about this?!” you yell, your voice wet and cracking.

ellie stands from her bed quickly, eyes wide. “No! Why would I-”

“You’ve been out to get me since we met, Ellie!” you cry, your tone accusatory. ellie is about to respond, but you aren’t done.

“I dunno if you're jealous, or heard some things that aren’t true? But im not this evil bitch you paint me out to be!” your voice gets louder. more tears stream down your face. ellie wants to reach out and rub them away.

”I would never do that! jealous or not I promise you-”

“You’re so full of shit!”

“He was cheating on you!” ellie shouts, her arms rushing to your face, pulling you close. she practically stares into your puffy eyes.

“I saw him a party with that blonde friend of yours, i dont, i wouldn’t”

“Fuck you! and all of my friends are blonde! that doesn’t help!” you slap her hands away, you scoff as you walk out and slam the door.

roommate!ellie isn't sure how to feel. she wants to prove it to you that she had nothing to do with your dickhead boyfriend leaking your sex tape. but she also wanted to ignore you forever for yelling at her.

roommate!ellie who gets in a fight at a party, a party that you had skipped out on. one of your boyfriends friends was badmouthing you, calling you a slut. as if your boyfriend wasn't the one who recorded it and posted it.

ellie got a few good hits in, but the kid obviously kicked her ass. there was only so much she could do against a six foot football player.

roommate!ellie who practically ripped the door off of its hinges as she entered your room after. a black eye covering a good half of her face and a busted lip leaking blood all over your white rug.

“What happened to you?” you question, worry overtaking your features.

“What happened is your stupid boyfriend, I got my ass beat defending you. So wh-” she rants, pointing to her bruised eye socket.

“ex-boyfriend.” you correct.

“Dude!” her eyes widen. you laugh, walking towards her. “Cmon stupid, lets get you fixed up.” you grab her by the arm, leading her into the living room.

roommate!ellie who practically melts when you bring a soaked rag to her lip, rubbing the old blood away.

“Y’know, I’m quite flattered you came to my honour today.” you smirk, ellie nods. you continue to rub the damp fabric against her lip.

“Had to, he was calling you names.” she explains, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah, im sure he was.” you roll your eyes, a quiet sigh leaving your lips.

ellie frowns. she doesnt think before reaching out and flicking the small pout on your lips. you look back up at her, confusion visible. ellie’s hand moves to cup your face.

“What do you say we get him back?”

roommate!ellie who is just so grateful for your help.

“mmm, Ellie…” you moan, her lips digging into your neck as she pushes your panties down your legs. her bed is cold, comfortable.

she quickly runs a finger up and down your slit, bringing it up to circle your clit. ellie’s move to are rushed, shes in no mood to tease.

“God, you're so wet.” she slips a single finger in, slipping it in and out sloppily. her lips move from your neck to your lips. the wet, messy, kisses only releasing more arousal from you.

“Wanted this for so long, Baby. Think about you all the time.” she admits. you moan into her, bucking your hips into her hand.

ellie slips another finger in, gently scissoring them into you. you groan at the stretch.

“I know baby.” she reassures, “Gotta stretch you out for my cock.” she mutters, taking a nipple into her mouth.

roommate!ellie’s dick game was lethal. she had you face down ass up, hands on your hips as her large purple strap digs into your hole.

“Ugh mmm! fuck! ellie!” you cry, your filthy moans fill the room. ellie is sure that people from the other dorms can hear you.

ellie’s hands leave your hips, her firm thrusts continue. she reaches over to her nightstand, equipping her phone.

she quickly opens her camera, hitting the record button.

“Yeah, baby, you like that?” she smirks, taking her lip into her mouth as she thrusts into you. you reach back, taking ellie’s hand into your own. your whiny moans filling the microphone.

“Ellie! i love it so much!” you whine, tears starting to form in your eyes. ellie laughs, digging the strap as deep as possible. “Love your dick so much!” you whine, ellie’s ego skyrockets. you had never sounded this good when you were with your boyfriend.

ellie grits her teeth. “So much better than him, Huh?” you whine out a loud yes, her strap digging into you. you moan her name, she mockingly moans yours back, matching your high pitched sounds.

“I’m gonna cum!” you whine, tears finally breaking through, mascara runs down your face. ellie slaps your ass, her thrusts becoming faster, and harder.

“You gonna cum on my dick, Baby? come on baby cum for me.” her seductive tone only making you more turned on, her phone still held above you. you arch your back tightly, your hand squeezing ellie’s free one.

“Fuck! Fuck! mmmcumming!” your voice cracks as ellie digs into you two last times. she carefully moves her camera to zoom into her thick strap coated in your milky cum.

“Holy fuck, look at her.” she groans. she moves two finger to lightly scoop up some of you. she brings her fingers to your mouth, and you welcome them without hesitation. she moans at the sight of you. she gently fucks her fingers into your mouth before pulling them out.

“C’mere.” she beckons, bringing her hand to your hair, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. That's when she cuts the video. she kisses you again. murmuring tiny praises into your skin.

roommate!ellie quickly discards of her strap, opting to clean it later. she lays down beside, you your skin sticking to her own.

roommate!ellie who sends that long video to your punk as boyfriend and laughs when he replies with “Tf? Fuck you Dyke”

roommate!ellie who holds you until you’ve completely fallen asleep, content etched into your features. your soft breaths cascade through the room.

roommate!ellie is shocked to say the least when you come see her a week later with a mysterious piece of paper in your hand.

FLIGHT TICKET.

Flight:

AAB1234

Boarding Time:

7:30AM.

DESTINATION:

Jackson, Wyoming.

roommate!ellie who doesn't know what to say, she doesn’t know if she should thank you, or berate you. you’re standing there smiling at her, waiting for her to accept the slip of paper.

“How did you - wha-?” she looks around, up at you, back down at the ticket and then back at you.

“Well.. I did some digging, and-” ellie laughs, in disbelief.

“You went through my shit?” she scoffs, her tone coming out way ruder than intended.

“Listen, I-” you ramble, trying hard to explain yourself. ellie doesnt let you.

“What the fuck?” she looks up at you again, fidgeting with the paper in hand.

“I was only trying to help, Ellie. Think of it as like, a thank you?” you reason. you didn't expect her to react this way.

“Right.” she laughs, slamming the paper onto the counter. the loud slam making you flinch. “wha-” you stammer, “i dont want your fucking help.” she grumbles. waltzing into her room and slamming the door.

Back to square one.

taglist:

@andieprincessofpower @loserabby @mastermasterlist1p1 @blxeberryblood @firefly-ace @doodl3b3ans @modernvenuss @remusandlunakinnie @justagirlexisting @softqirls @bambi-luvs @r3starttt @jujuszn @fempr1ncesss @miajooz @vxsellie @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @everluna @lovewitchss @elliesbabygirl @talyaisvalslutsoldier @chappellroankisser @cheriedivine @laceyxrenee @hotpinkskitties @avalovesmus1c @rbnvrnxoxo

[littledes1re]

need more mean joel spanking reader when she miss behaves 😞

Cruel

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel spanks reader, and he is so so mean.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Old man!Joel (he needs his own warning), MEAN!joel, age gap! (60s and 20s) daddy kink, ddlg if you squint, degradation, orgasm denial, darcyphilia

A/N: Okey, what if we combine normal spanks with pussy spanks🤚🏻😭 I MAY got carried away with this lmao

You messed up.

Totally and utterly messed up.

And you could see it exactly in Joel‘s face. All evening long he was trying to keep himself together. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, putting on a fake smile for everyone.

Secretly, you were getting on his last nerve. Your hand danced ‚innocently‘ around his crotch, whispering, needy and desperate pleas into his ear—„when are we leaving, daddy? Need you, daddy“— all while batting your eyelashes and trying not to show it to the other people around you.

The consequences of your actions were written on Joel‘s face. He did not once talk or glance at you, after the dinner. His face locked in, concentrated on the road, going through countless ideas on how to punish you. Your daddy wouldn‘t be your daddy, if he didn‘t punish you until he could see tears in your eyes. So understandably, you tried to apologise your way out of it.

Your pouting didn‘t work, the chants of ‚i‘m sorry‘ came unheard and now you were sitting on the bed, waiting for Joel to come out of the bathroom. Your heart starts picking up pace, as you nervously tap your feet on the ground.

„Daddy, i‘m really sorry.“ you try it once again, but having no luck. He doesn‘t answer you.

And as he opens the door, you can see it in his expression.

He was not going to go easy on you.

Without even saying a word, he walks over to you, sits down on the bed and looks at you. The air in the room thickens, there was no empathy in his eyes. You knew what to do, you quickly lay down on his lap, your bum facing up and your face buried into the sheets. Him not saying anything was scaring you, because he would always talk to you. Always go through what he is going to do with you, praise you and give you words of encouragement. You knew that this time, you really messed it up.

„I‘m sorry, I swear—“

„Shut up.“

And his big hand comes in contact with your ass. Hard. You cry out and bite into the sheets, feeling it pulse underneath his fingertips. As the silence in the room settles, you think about trying to apologise once again, but as if Joel knows, he stops you before you can even say a word.

„Don’t want to hear anything from this mouth anymore, already heard enough.“

Another hit. Your bum stings and stings, pulses and you know that tomorrow, you will not be able to sit properly. Joel always calls it a reminder to be good, the pain should remind you that you should behave. The third hit feels too much, his hands rough, mean—no massaging the skin, no rubbing the pain, no praise.

„Is it that hard to be not a greedy little girl? S‘it that hard to behave when other people are around?“

He lets his questions sink, excepting you to answer, to say ‚i‘m sorry‘ again. But it doesn‘t come. He chuckles to himself. What is he going to do with you.

Another hit. This time you can feel the tears start in your eyes, you hold on tight on the sheets. As you feel the way the tears fall from your cheeks, Joel grabs your hair and lifts your head up, looking into your wet face.

„Now she‘s crying.“ and he fucking laughs.

He drops your head again, and you feel yourself crying just more, and more at how cruel he was being. The hit he gives you next, makes you sob out, your body jerks in his lap and you almost fall off but, he squeezes your body so you stay still. His hand lands on your hair and strokes, as you shed tear after tear. You can hear him hum, suddenly grabbing you by the hips, and your arms to pull you up and sit you down on his lap. The rough fabric on his jeans, making your ass hurt just more as you face him. And there is still no sympathy in his eyes.

„I‘m sorry, daddy.“ you whimper, holding on to him, hoping that maybe he will accept it and not be mean anymore.

And he doesn‘t acknowledge it, giving you a pinch on your wet cheek. You can only look into his face, tears still spilling from your eyes. Dumbfounded. Not knowing what else to say or to do.

„For what reason am I giving you these punishments, pup, huh?“ you want to answer him, but he answers it himself. „So you can behave, be daddy‘s good girl.“ he nods. And you do too, nodding your head at him, quickly.

„Now all those tears spilled, looking at me like you weren‘t the one who did this to yourself. So pathetic.“ he murmurs, making a tsk sound with his mouth and shaking his head. Your pout drops just more, as you look down to your hands, ashamed that you disappointed him so badly.

After a silent moment, he stands up, making you stumble on your feet, almost falling down. He ignores it, sits down on the bed and spreads his legs, his back leaning against the wall.

„Dress and panties off. Now.“ he signals you to come to him. You quickly do while pulling your dress down, and then your panties too. Standing in front of him, he suddenly grabs you by the hips, roughly, and places you to sit between his legs, with your back against him.

And you already have a feeling where this is going.

„Please. I‘m sorry.“ you whine, with no reaction. Joel spreads your legs harshly, and lands the first hit on your pussy. You cry out once again. And Joel just knew, how much you hated getting your pussy spanked. His other hand lands on your thigh, holding you open.

The second hit leaves your cunt pulsing and throbbing. Your head lays down on Joels chest, a sigh leaving your lips as he gives your temple a kiss.

„Think I enjoy hurting m‘girl?“ his hand connects with your pussy once more.

„I don‘t. That‘s why I always tell you to behave. Being needy and desperate will always bring you here. It will always leave you with pain.“ A loud whimper escapes from your lips, giving you your fourth spank. When you look down, you can see your pussy already swollen, red and pulsing. And as if that was not enough, you were aching for touch, for a release.

„Please, daddy.“

„Oh, my poor baby. Not enjoying these spankings, huh?“

You weren‘t sure. They were hurting but you were also close to soaking the sheets. Your clit throbbing in need, for something. A touch, a rub and release.

„Or you do? Look at you getting wet again. What am I gonna do with you, pup.“

The last was the hardest. You bucked your hips forward, almost slipping away from his grip. „Shh, all done.“ he whispers into your ear.

The room falls silent once again, with your focus on your swollen and throbbing pussy, hoping that Joel now has mercy on you, and gives you something. And for a while it‘s him just cradling you, kissing your head and letting your tears dry.

„I‘m sorry, daddy.“ you whisper, hoping that this time he accepts it and calls you his good girl again.

Instead, he stands up, you can‘t even register of what‘s happening and he is between your legs, on his knees, releasing his cock. You think, finally, he will fuck you. Give you what you want, make love to you. Yet, you are mistaken.

Joel‘s cock pulses at the sight of you. And he is not done being mean. He starts jerking his shaft in his palm, over your swollen pussy.

You shake your head.

And he nods, „y‘want daddy to forgive you? Let him cum on your sweet pussy.“ you knew what that meant.

No orgasm for you. So you laid there, as groans filled the room. His hand going faster and faster, his tip getting red and starting to pulse. And as he tapped his head on top of your clit, he came with a moan. His cock coated your pussy white, making you clench around nothing. You felt tears coming once again.

But Joel didn‘t care. He tugged himself back in and bought you new underwear. And as he tried to put it on for you, you whined—shaking your head.

„y‘want to ruin this? You laid there, being good and now you want to start whining again?“ his eyebrows furrowed at you, and you remembered the stings on your bum. So you let him. He put on your underwear, and changed his clothes to his pyjamas. And while you laid there, he kissed your head and whispered a tiny „Good girl.“ Finally.

What a mean, mean man :( still need him tho

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @cuntyhunty22 @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @lovelystrawberrysblog @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @valitagun @bluekat707

I may mixed my taglist with my HtD taglist…I‘m sorry if there are people that DON‘T want to be tagged in my normal stuff lol

[bunnis-monsters]

…recording a homemade porno with the Bee Hybrids so they material to satiate themselves with while the Beloved Queen is away on diplomatic matters-

Okay but imagine it’s a solo vid too of you sitting there, playing with your body, whimpering and moaning as you spread your pussy lips for the camera so the bee hybrids have a full view of their queen!

You pull out a dildo and fuck yourself with it, begging to be filled with eggs and all the bee hybrids are just pawing at the screen, trying to reassure you that they’ll stuff you full :(

They don’t quite understand technology, and they miss you…

Only problem is, the porno actually makes them way hornier than usual so the hive is just oozing pheromones and shit

And ofc they’re desperate to actually fuck you once you’re finally home! The second you step into the hive you’re surrounded, even the guards are too busy jerking off to your smell to do anything about it.

My horny bees 💗

[sevikalvr]

— 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 —

summary!; bodyguard!sevika x pr!reader > mistakes were made, problems get solved, headlines smooth out, and you end up making the same mistake again.

wc; 10.1k — cw; sub!reader, dom!sevika, hair pulling, oral sex (r!receiving), scissoring, slight fingering (r!receiving), biting, slight degrading, overstimulation to the point of fainting, and of course aftercare. MINORS DNI!!

note; I didn’t realize how long I had made this chapter but I hope you all enjoy it! let me know if you want something similar with another arcane character!! happy reading 🌸

part one here!

Your eyes flutter awake from the warmth you’re embraced in. Legs draped over Sevika’s waist as her arms were slung low across your waist, the weight of it casual and terrifying all at once. Her breathing is steady. Deep. Like nothing happened last night. 

Like she didn’t spend most of last night making you forget your name. You didn’t even know you could even last for that many rounds, but you learn something new everyday right?

Anyways, you don’t move. Not yet. The hotel room is dim, the only light coming in from a crack in the blackout curtains. The AC occasionally makes a sound that fills up the room for the second as it turns on. You're half-curled against her chest, one of your legs tangled with hers, a thigh muscle twitching every now and then beneath your skin. Your actual clothes are nowhere in sight.

Jesus Christ this was such a mistake.

You should get up. You should be taking a shower. Responding to the twenty-something unread emails, and starting to prepare a revised crisis plan, responding to your texts, seeing if either of the sisters had contacted you in any form. You should be working. Or worrying. Or literally anything else but letting your bare thigh brush hers and thinking about round five. Or six? You don’t even know.

You freeze, staring at the ceiling.

Bad idea. You glance at her instead. Worse idea.

She’s awake. Of course she’s awake.

Sevika blinks slowly, the same unreadable look on her face she wore last night—right before she had you gasping into her shoulder. Her voice is low and maddeningly casual when she says, “You always bite when you’re stressed?”

You shove at the blankets and swing your legs over the side of the bed like you weren’t just perfectly comfortable two seconds ago. Her morning voice wasn’t helping either.

“You always talk after sex?”

“Only when I want someone to panic.”

You spin around. “I’m not panicking.”

She tilts her head. “You’re standing there in my shirt and one sock. Want to try that again?”

You glance down.

Fuck. You are wearing her shirt. And her sock..? When the hell did that happen? Christ you must’ve been a mess last night.

You groan and start digging through your duffle bag like it might magically fix your life, but a clean pair of clothes would help a little right now. 

Your phone buzzes. And keeps buzzing.

17 messages. 5 missed calls. 1 text message that notifies you right as you look at your phone, from your assistant; “Are you alive??”

That’s when the knot of dread sinks into your gut and stays there. You unlock your phone and immediately wish you hadn’t.

“Rumors Swirl: Vi Walking Away From Faultline?”

“Mystery Woman Seen With New Band Security After Hotel Check-In — Who Is She?”

You stare at the blurry shot—you, checking in last night. Sevika behind you. The caption reads;

“Hotel Hook-Up or Security Breach? Fans React to Spicy New Theory.”

You slam the phone facedown on the desk, groaning out. “We’re screwed!”

Sevika’s still lying in bed— still naked, arms behind her head like this is just Tuesday. “You’re screwed,” she says. “I just stood near you.”

“All we did was just check in!” you say exasperatedly with your hands flailing, “what do they mean ‘hotel hookup’” you say quoting hard, imitating the title with a deeper voice.

All Sevika did was just shrug. Which made you groan in annoyance.

“I specifically booked two rooms!” you say glaring at her.

“Clerical error,” she offers. “Or fate.”

You throw a sock at her. “Fate? Really?”

She catches it with one hand. “Worked out, didn’t it?”

You freeze again. Because yeah—it did. And that’s the problem. And unfortunately, you are one to heavily deny things like there's no tomorrow.

“Like hell it did, it was a mistake” you pause before looking at yourself in the mirror, wiping at your neck as if it will magically erase the damn marks she created on your from last night, “Do I look like I got railed in a hotel room last night?”

“Yes,” Sevika says, completely unbothered. “Fix your hair.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she says. “You’re just panicking.”

You zip up your bag with too much force. “I have to go back for another crisis meeting in thirty minutes and I am trying very hard not to think about the fact that I orgasmed three times and now I have to sit across from Vi’s manager! Who never listens to me!”

Sevika finally gets up—pulls her jacket off the floor and tosses it your way as she mutters under her breath, “Could’ve been four..”

You whip around. “Do you want me to combust?”

“Little bit,” she admits, with a shrug.

You just balled up her jacket— or attempted too and threw it at her face. But of course she caught it, this time with a knowing smirk. “Ridiculous..” you mutter under your breath as you grab your clothes from your bag to go and change in the bathroom. You leaned against the bathroom counter as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“This was just a one time thing!” you call out from the bathroom as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. You get no response back. Yeah. Quitting seems like a great option right now.

                                        ──────────

The car is silent.

Another crisis meeting that didn’t even go as planned. But what’s new?

You’re slouched in the passenger seat, hands shoved under your thighs to keep from texting something stupid—or worse, scrolling Twitter to see if anyone’s figured out the whole one room, one bed situation. Even though that’s just you panicking and overthinking about a nonexistent situation… right?

Regardless, you don't even look professional. You’re wearing a hoodie, trying to hide the marks she had created on your neck from last night. Your baggy jeans make you look just as shabby. You two left a little late from the hotel just because you had done a full face of makeup today to make up for the shabby outfit. But at this point, who even cares.

Sevika drives like she fights; calm, steady, no hesitation. One hand on the wheel. The other resting near the console, fingers tapping idly like she’s tracking the rhythm of your breathing. The silence is getting too loud in your head.

You try to look out the window to avoid looking at her hands. Although, you couldn't help but steal a glance at her, fingers twitching. She’s got that same unreadable expression she always wears—like the whole world’s just background noise she’s already calculated a way through. 

It's like you want to say something but you have a strong feeling that if you do, it’ll make things awkward. Again. But considering you two still have at least half an hour of the ride left till you two get back to the makeshift office for now, you couldn’t help but think back to articles you found about Sevika when you had searched her up. And before you knew it, your mouth spoke before you could even think.

“..Was it really a Medarda?”

She doesn’t even blink. Her jaw shifts, just slightly.

“I mean,” you add, suddenly wishing you’d kept your mouth shut as you mentally facepalm yourself for being stupid, “That’s what the forums said. The article. I didn’t even know who she was at the time, but now I keep seeing her face next to yours on old paparazzi leaks and—”

“You looked me up.” Her voice cuts in, not surprised. Not mad. Just confirming what she already figured.

You hesitate. “Yeah. After the VIP room… after the office. I was curious.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

Then finally, Sevika exhales. The kind of breath that sounds like she’s almost amused.

“Maybe,” she replies evenly. “Does it matter?”

“It does,” you press, heart thudding. “Because if it was—”

She cuts you off with a soft chuckle, the first real sound she’s made all morning.

“Last time I mixed business and pleasure,” she says, eyes glancing briefly in the rearview mirror, “it ended in blood and a lawyer.”

You blink, as you stare at her profile, stunned by the flat delivery.

“Is that supposed to turn me off?”

Her mouth twitches, just barely.

“Did it?”

You cross your arms and look out the window. “Not answering that.”

“Didn’t think so.”

And just like that, the silence returns—but now it crackles with everything unsaid. Until your phone rings. You were quick to pick it up from the cupholder in the middle, glancing at the caller ID. And surprisingly—

It’s Vi. Sevika sees the name flash across the screen and raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

You answered the phone call, with your voice stern as if you were scolding your own child, which at this point— you kinda were. 

“And where the hell have you been?” 

There’s a beat of silence on the other end before Vi responds, voice dry. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me. I’ve been juggling a PR disaster, your sister almost lit the stage on fire, sponsors are on my ass, and no one has heard from you or Jinx for two days.”

Vi sighs. “I needed space. That not allowed anymore?”

You rub your temple, suddenly aware of Sevika’s silent presence beside you as she drives. She hasn’t looked over, but you know she’s listening.

“Space doesn’t cancel contracts, Vi. Space doesn’t fix headlines. You dipped in the middle of a damn hurricane, and I’m the one mopping up your fucking wreckage. Again.”

Vi’s voice softens a notch. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.”

You exhale through your nose, still wound tight. “I can’t keep this whole band from burning down if you just leave out of nowhere, Vi. You were supposed to stay. Now the whole damn internet is speculating if you’re going to leave the band after the shitshow you had pulled on stage!”

Were you being a little extra? Yes, but she deserved it. You are going through absolute hell right now trying to fix the band’s image.

She’s quiet for a second. Then, “You sound exhausted.”

You glance toward Sevika’s hands on the steering wheel. Steady. Sharp-knuckled. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Vi mutters, tone unreadable. “You always are.”

Vi ends the call before you can respond. You quickly send text message to the sisters;

[9:22] “your asses better be at the office before 10.” “if neither of you two are there I'm cancelling the next promo run.

…No replies. Typical.

You then drop your phone onto your lap, jaw clenched, chest tight. Letting the phone slide off your lap, tension still burning under your skin. There's a thick beat of silence in the car.

“She's got great timing” Sevika mutters as her eyes are forward, only casting you a short glance, “Right when you’ve nearly bled yourself dry fixing shit she walked away from.”

You just sighed in response, your mind spinning from all the stress you’re going to be met with the minute you step into the makeshift office. 

“…At least I took my anger out yesterday.”

She doesn’t answer right away. But you see her grip shift on the steering wheel. Like she remembers. All of it.

Her voice is lower when it comes this time. “Yeah. You did.”

And fuck, you shouldn’t like the way she said that. You just crossed your legs, leaned against the arm rest as your gaze shifted out the window. Silently praying that this will eventually be smoothed out. Hopefully sooner rather than later. 

The venue looks different in daylight — like seeing a nightclub with the lights on. All the makeup smeared, all the wires were exposed. The glamour is gone, and what’s left is business. You push through the back entrance with Sevika in tow, your phone still warm in your pocket from the texts you sent earlier.

The makeshift office is barely a room, folding tables, scattered paperwork, coffee that tastes like regret. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. Until you open the door and there they are.

Jinx is perched sideways in a chair, legs dangling, spinning a pen like she’s on trial for murder and still thinks it’s funny. Vi’s got her arms folded, leaning against the wall like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her hair black on the roots as it slowly fades to her original pink hair color. They're on opposite ends of the room — not speaking, not looking at each other. The air between them is thick with something old and ugly. Of course it is. 

You stop just over the threshold. Sevika stands behind you like a shadow, silent, observant, not even pretending not to be watching everything. She stands against the closed door, typical bodyguard style.

“Great,” you say, voice flat. “You both showed up. That’s progress. Maybe next time you can do it without trying to kill each other on livestream.”

Neither of them speaks.

You exhale slowly through your nose. You’re tired. You’re still sore in places you shouldn’t be thinking about in a room like this. And you don’t have time for theatrics — not theirs, not yours. No bullshit today.

“Sit.” you mutter, pointing towards the couch in front of you.

Vi doesn’t move, but her jaw flexes. Jinx huffs something under her breath that sounds like “bossy” but sits anyway. You raised your eyebrow at Vi. 

Reluctantly, she sat down. Keeping her distance from her sister. 

You drop your bag, slap your clipboard down, and fix them both with a look that would flatten lesser egos. “We’re going to fix this,” you say, “because I am not about to spend another twelve hours scrubbing your mess off social media with bubblegum statements and fake bribes.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jinx smirks.

Vi rolls her eyes.

You feel your blood pressure spike. Sevika still hasn’t said a word — just leans against the door like she’s weighing exactly when to step in. You’re not even sure if it’s to keep them from each other, or to stop you from exploding.

Eventually, you’re mid-rant, pacing like a woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown held together with concealer and sheer rage.

“This tour is not a playground. It’s not a therapy session. It’s a contract. You two don’t have to love each other, but you will show up, stay civil, and stop throwing goddamn microphones in front of sponsors.”

Jinx kicks her feet a little where she’s perched. She tilts her head looking at you, probably not even listening.

“Huh.. You look different today.” she says, almost as if she was assessing you.

 “You’re glowing. Like—really glowing. Skin all dewy. Little post-apocalyptic zen in your walk.” She gestures vaguely. “Did someone get laid or am I just having a stroke?”

You pause, hand still half-raised with your notes. “Excuse me?”

You literally wore makeup for a reason. How was it still obvious?

She grins slowly, eyes raking over you like a bratty little sister clocking something no one else has dared to say out loud. You open your mouth to deflect, but—

“Jinx.” Vi’s voice is low, warning. A sharp look thrown sideways. “Don’t.”

Jinx glances at her. Then back at you. Then, slower—her eyes slide toward Sevika, who’s leaning against the far wall, impassive as always.

A pause.

“...Oh.”

“Jinx,” Vi repeats, this time firmer.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jinx says, smirking. “I just connected a few dots, and they happen to spell ‘mystery muscle.’”

You stare at her flatly. “You done?”

“For now,” she sings with a knowing smile, kicking her feet up.

Vi doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t look away from Sevika for a while. You don’t know what she’s thinking—but it’s not nothing. Sevika doesn’t flinch under the scrutiny. Doesn’t move. She just raises one eyebrow, subtle and slow, as if she’s daring them to push it.

No one does.

You clear your throat and slap your notes on the table. “Okay. Let’s talk about the trainwreck of this week’s press coverage.”

Jinx sighs, dramatically. Vi exhales through her nose. And Sevika stays quiet—but you can feel her eyes on the back of your neck, steady and unshakable. And right now, that’s the only tension you’re willing to deal with.

“First of all, would you two please tell me why the hell you two fought like that on stage?” you ask, looking at them expectantly.

“It was a family mom—”

“—say that one more time Jinx I’m leaving this for the both of you to clean up by yourselves.”

You were met with silence. That's what you thought.

Until Jinx mutters, barely holding it back, “Vi actually wants out.”

The words hit like a punch. Vi’s face drains of color, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack bone.

“Fuck you,” she spits, venom dripping from every syllable. “You don’t know shit.”

Jinx sneers back, eyes blazing, voice low and harsh, “Oh, I know more than you think. You want to run away like everyone else who’s ever left us, sis.”

Vi’s fists curl into trembling balls, rage and pain warping her expression. “Why the hell can’t you ever stay in your goddamn business!”

You jump in, voice cutting through the storm like a blade. “Stop this before you destroy everything. You two are breaking apart in front of everyone, and I’m supposed to fix it all?”

Both sisters glare, breathing heavy, hurt raw and exposed. But neither speaks. The silence now heavy with everything unsaid — old wounds ripped open, barely held together by brittle threads. Your heart skips. 

You force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Is that true, Vi? Do you really want to leave?”

Her eyes flash, defiant, maybe angry, but then something shifts. The fire in her demeanor dims just enough to reveal a flicker of doubt, of exhaustion. She exhales slowly, almost too quiet to hear, “I don’t know.”

You notice the subtle relaxation in her shoulders, the way her hands unclench. For a second, it’s like the storm inside her has paused, as if your presence gives her a fragile kind of calm. You want to reach out, to say something that could fix this, but you hold back. You’ve seen how delicate this balance is. How easy it is to push too hard.

Jinx glares at you both but doesn’t say a word. Vi looks away, the fight draining from her like a slow leak, leaving an ache you don’t quite know how to soothe. You realize you’re standing on the edge of something, maybe the end, maybe the chance to hold it all together.

And somehow, you know it’s not just the band you’re trying to save. It's their family too. You groan inwardly as you run a hand down your face, fuck me, you thought. Didn’t think you’d be holding a therapy session today. Just perfect.

This was way worse than you thought.

You let the silence settle for just a beat longer, heart pounding, before you speak again. Softer this time.

“…Why?”

Vi doesn’t answer right away. Her jaw tightens, and you can see the war happening behind her eyes. She hates being seen like this—vulnerable, undecided. But she’s already cracked open a little, and you’re not letting this go without understanding.

“I just…” Vi finally says, voice low and rough, “I’m tired.”

Jinx shifts in her seat, eyes narrowing. “We’re all tired.”

“Not like this,” Vi snaps, her volume rising before she catches herself. She turns to you, not Jinx, like you're the one she can be honest with. “It’s always something. A fight. A fuck-up. Another fire to put out. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“You signed up for a band,” you reply, not unkindly. “And then you stayed when it became more.”

Vi scoffs a little. “Yeah. And maybe I stayed for the wrong reasons.”

That hits something in Jinx—sharp and fast. “Oh, fuck off with that.”

“Don’t start,” you warn quickly, raising a hand.

Vi’s still looking at you, and her next words are so quiet you almost don’t catch them.

“I thought maybe if I held on long enough, it would start to feel like ours again.”

You blink. “Ours?”

She doesn’t explain. She doesn’t have to. You know she means her and Jinx. You know this was supposed to be something that tethered them to each other. But the tether’s fraying. Maybe it already snapped.

You inhale slowly. “So what—you’d rather leave than try to fix it?”

Vi flinches. And for the first time in this whole mess, she looks unsure.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” she says, and suddenly she looks younger than she is. Tired. Raw. And somehow, still, that fragile peace in her posture only exists when she’s talking to you.

You nod slowly at Vi’s words, letting them hang in the air like the sting of alcohol on a fresh wound. There’s a beat of silence where no one breathes, and then your eyes flick to Jinx. She hasn’t said anything, but her knee is bouncing, her jaw tight.

“Jinx,” you say, not sharp—careful. “You want to tell me how you’re feeling about all this?”

She scoffs, looking away. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe betrayed, maybe a little stabbed in the back, maybe just great, actually.”

“Can we not?” Vi mutters under her breath, rubbing her temples.

“No,” you say, your tone firmer now, eyes on Jinx. “Let her talk.”

Jinx laughs, but there’s nothing light in it. “You want me to talk? Fine. I’ve been bending over backwards trying to hold this band image together. I’m the one always throwing myself into it. I give people something to talk about. I keep the fucking spark alive.” She turns to Vi, eyes burning. “And you—you just check out. You pull away. You don’t even try anymore.”

Vi exhales sharply, like she’s trying not to react. But Jinx isn’t done.

“You know what it feels like to keep showing up for someone who’s already halfway out the door? Who looks at you like you're a reminder of everything they regret?”

“Jinx—” Vi tries, but her voice falters.

“No, fuck that,” Jinx snaps, suddenly getting up and pacing. “You think I’m exhausting? Fine. You think I’m chaos? Sure. But don’t fucking act like I’m the reason this is hard when you haven’t been here in months, Vi.”

You watch her. And suddenly, it’s not about the press. Not the image. Not the next tour date or the PR crisis waiting in your inbox. It’s about two sisters who built something together, and are now quietly watching it rot from the inside.

“Jinx…” you say gently. She stops pacing but doesn’t look at you. “You’re scared she’s leaving. I get it. But you pushing harder isn’t going to make her stay.”

Her jaw clenches. “Then what will?”

You pause. Then quietly, “Letting her feel like she can stay without drowning.”

For a second, Jinx doesn’t say anything. Then she mutters, eyes fixed on the floor, “I just wanted it to feel like it used to.”

You nod. “Me too.. And I think I'm speaking for all of us” 

A beat goes by. The silence hangs just long enough for the emotions to settle. Neither of them is looking at each other now—Vi with her arms crossed tight like she’s holding herself together with sheer force, Jinx like she might blow a hole through the floor with just her stare. You shift in your seat, take a breath, and ask the question that’s been simmering in the back of your mind since last night.

“...Should I delay rehearsals?”

They both look up at you.

“What?” Vi says slowly.

“I mean it,” you say, firm but calm. “We’ve got three weeks until the next show. Enough time to breathe, maybe remember why you even want to be on stage together. But if I keep pushing you two through interviews, shoots, rehearsals like nothing’s wrong? It’s going to explode again—and next time, the whole world will be watching.”

Jinx groans and throws her head back. “So we go dark? Just vanish for a bit?”

You nod. “Low profile. No press, no new footage, no forced hangouts. I’ll put out a statement saying you're ‘recalibrating after a high-demand tour leg.’ Leave the fans guessing just enough to keep them hooked. You two? You figure your shit out.”

Vi's eyes are on you now, thoughtful. She hasn’t said no.

“And what if nothing gets figured out?” Jinx mutters.

“Then,” you say evenly, “we go into crisis plan B. But I’m not pulling that trigger until I know for sure you’re both done.” pausing for a moment, “but I know you two better than that. And I'm not giving up on my girls.”

Jinx and Vi gave each other a look, unreadable, only something sisters that close would understand.

Then, surprisingly—Vi nods. Just once. Slow.. A breath escapes her like she’s been holding it since last night. “…Three weeks,” she says finally.

Jinx crosses her arms, defiant. Vi looks at her. 

“And we try. Actually try. No more hiding.”

Jinx doesn’t respond right away—but she doesn’t argue, either. You meet both their eyes, serious.

 “Use it.”

They say nothing. But for the first time in hours, the air doesn’t feel like it’s about to combust. You rise, phone already buzzing in your pocket. 

“I’ll start writing the statement.”

You turn around expecting Sevika to still be standing by the door but— she's gone. You went to open the door as you heard Jinx and Vi silently talk behind you two before you were met with a voice that made you jump.

“Done?”

“Holy— God you fucking scared me Sev..” you mutter the nickname that comes out your name effortlessly without realizing it, with only her subtly raising her eyebrow at it but not commenting on it. You grab the door handle, giving the girls one last look before closing the doors looking back at Sevika.

 “And yeah, I’m done. Let’s go.” 

                                         ──────────

You close the hotel room door behind you and lean back against it like the weight of the day might finally fall off your shoulders if you just breathe deep enough.

It doesn’t.

The room’s quiet. No Sevika this time. No voices behind closed doors. Just the hum of the air vent and the soft buzz of your phone where you dropped it on the dresser.

You should feel relieved. The emergency statement is out—calm, clean, carefully vague. Fans are chewing it up like candy, dissecting every line with wild optimism. Headlines are smoothing over. The words “internal creative differences” are doing heavy lifting. You even got a thank-you text from the label. That should’ve felt like a win.

It doesn’t.

You sit on the edge of the bed, still in your hoodie, makeup scrubbed off, staring at the wall like it might offer answers.

Instead, your brain loops one thing; The way Sevika stood behind you earlier. Quiet. Solid. Unbothered while everything else burned. The eyebrow she raised when you accidentally called her Sev. The way she didn’t even bother to correct you.

You exhale hard and scrub your hands down your face.

This is bad.

Not the PR. Not the band. Not even the fan theories starting to bubble up about who you were seen walking into the hotel with last night. What’s bad is that all you want to do right now—after everything—is see her again. Hear her voice. Pick a fight just so she’ll push back. You hate that part of you is hoping she'll knock on your door.

Your phone buzzes once.

You blink. Lean forward. Grab it.

Unknown Number. The preview reads;

[11:13] “You still pacing the room, or are you finally breathing?”

You stare at the screen.

[11:14] “who is this?”

Even though you know who it already is.

“Guess.”

[11:16] “..how did you get my number?”

[11:17] “Your assistant gave up your number faster than I expected.” “Thought you'd be harder to get to.”

Great, now she’s in your head again, like she never left.

[11:18] “what do you want?”

This time she takes a few seconds.

“Just checking in “After last night.”

Your brain fills in the gaps. After last night could mean after you nearly lost your shit in the crisis meeting. Or after you screamed in the hotel room ranting about the two room bullshit. Or… after she had her hands on your thighs, her mouth on your throat, your fingers tugging her hair while you swore you didn’t want it again.

You bite your lip and type;

[11:20] “I’m fine. You don’t have to check in.”

A beat goes by. 

[11:22] “I’m still thinking about it”

Your heart flutters.

“about what?”

“You.”

You cursed silently to yourself. You told yourself it was a mistake. Something you two should’ve never done.  

[11:25] “that was a one time thing”

“You said that. I never agreed”

This time, you groaned audibly. Why the hell does she reply so fast! You set your phone down for a moment as you stare at the ceiling. This is wrong. She’s a bodyguard for Christ’s sake! She doesn’t deal with— PR people like you. Hell, especially not an unstable one. But before you know it, your fingers were typing,

[11:27] “what, you’re going to start quoting me now?”

“Only when you lie.” 

[11:28] “thought you said when you mixed business and pleasure, it ends up with blood and a lawyer”

She leaves you on read for a beat. Just long enough to make you second-guess sending it. Then the three dots blink back in.

[11:30] “It does.” “I’m still thinking about you anyway”.

You blink. Then another message follows.

“So either I’m stupid.” “Or you’re worth it.”

Your breath catches. And just like that, your whole body feels too hot again. Goddamnit!

[11:31] “this is wrong sevika”

“Then stop thinking about it.” “I won’t text again.”

And that should make it easier. It should.

..Yeah no, you’re fucked. Literally. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this. Everything in your mind screams no, while your body is screaming yes. Certainly your fingers had another idea, obviously. 

[11:33] “room 723” “don’t knock”

You leave the door unlocked.

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, palms flat on your thighs, trying to regulate your breathing, your heartbeat, your common sense. The room’s too quiet, the buzz in your skin too loud. You still taste that chaos from earlier—meetings, headlines, lies. The heat of her hands, the scrape of her voice in your ear when she said, “Best one I’ve had all day.”

You swore it would be a one-time thing.

That was before she texted. Before you replied. Before the lock clicked behind her, and you felt her presence like the pressure drop before a storm. The door shuts with a soft thud. And still, she doesn’t say a word.

She just walks in.

You don’t move. Neither does she. The air stretches tight between you, thick with everything unsaid. And then—Sevika stops in front of you, boots echoing on the hardwood. Her jacket is already off. She looks down at you like she’s deciding whether to ruin you again.

You look up at her as if your eyes were pleading her to.

Her voice is low, rough. “You sure?”

No,” you say. “But I still texted you.”

There’s a flicker in her expression, approval, hunger, something heavier— but she doesn’t move toward you. Not yet. She waits. You don’t move. You just breathe out,

“I’m tired,” you say.

“Then say no,” she murmurs.

You can’t. She knows you can’t. And that's what you hate.

You reach up first. Just a hand on her shirt. A fistful of cotton. Needing something real to hold onto.

“Don’t talk,” you say quietly. “Not tonight.”

Her mouth twitches like she might argue. But then—she nods once. Sharp. Controlled. And she sinks to her knees in front of you, chasing your gaze to make sure you’re looking at her. Her hands come to your thighs first, strong and steady, thumbs dragging up through the tension knotted in your jeans. She doesn’t rush, just watches your face as she reaches for your belt.

You inhale sharply. And then, slowly, you start to lean back back against the bed. Your palms brace against the mattress behind you, elbows locking, your legs parting further in silent invitation. Your hips lift just enough to meet her halfway—offering yourself without a word. As if you’re giving her permission to do as she pleases. 

You feel her fingers brush against the lower part of your stomach before she unbuckles your belt, slowly dragging your jeans off your waist, and soon meets the floor. 

Sevika starts slow.

Her mouth brushes the inside of your knee first, barely there, a whisper of contact that makes your breath hitch. Then another kiss, firmer now, heat blooming through skin that’s already too sensitive. She trails her lips higher, deliberately slow, as if mapping every inch like it's sacred ground.

Her tongue grazes soft against your skin, rough enough to make you twitch, to leave a ghost of her behind. Her hands are steady, calloused palms pressing down on your hips, holding you in place like you might slip from her grip otherwise. Then—her lips part. She presses a kiss just above the tender curve of your inner thigh, and you feel it all, the heat of her breath, the slight drag of her lower lip, the hunger buried just beneath restraint. You can feel her smirk against your skin when you exhale too sharply.

Another kiss, higher this time. Slower. Hungrier. She doesn’t rush.

She’s savoring you.

Her teeth scrape lightly, not enough to hurt—just enough to make your stomach twist. And then her tongue follows, lazy and warm and wicked, painting slow circles that don’t go where you need them most.

You shift under her. She tightens her grip.

“Still think this is wrong?” she murmurs, voice low against your skin.

But you don’t answer. Not with the way she kisses you like this. Like she’s making a promise with every press of her mouth—one that ends with you unraveling in her hands. Her mouth lingers at the inside of your thigh, teeth dragging just enough to make you twitch. Her breath is warm, dangerous. You don’t dare move. Not when every nerve is already begging for more.

Then slowly and deliberately, Sevika starts to rise. She trails up your body with unbearable calm, every shift of muscle and shadow making your skin tighten. Her hands plant firm beside your hips as she looms over you, her face inches from yours, eyes locked in.

“I asked you a question,” she murmurs, voice like velvet stretched over steel. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You blink up at her, heartbeat skittering. But despite the heat rushing everywhere, your mouth moves before your brain can stop it.

“I’m thinking about it,” you whisper, smirking. “You kind of interrupted.”

Sevika huffs a single laugh, but it’s low and dangerous. Her eyes glance down to your lips, but she doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. Instead, her gaze flickers lower . One hand comes up, slow, carefully, and curls around the front of your hoodie. Her fingers tug at the hem, testing, like she’s asking a question without saying it out loud.

You don’t move.

Her thumb brushes against the skin just beneath it. Barely. Her knuckles graze your stomach.

Still, you don’t move.

Sevika tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly like she’s clocking every breath you take. “Gonna make me undress you too?” she mutters, almost amused. But there’s an edge to it, like she’s not exactly opposed to doing exactly that.

You raise your eyebrows, defiantly. “You’re the one who showed up uninvited.”

Her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. “Text says otherwise.”

And just like that, she lifts the hoodie—slowly, like she’s giving you time to stop her, but knowing you won’t. Her knuckles graze higher, baring skin inch by inch until the fabric is up and over your head. You let her. It drops to the floor between you like a challenge. Then her hand slides up your jaw, rough and steady, tipping your face toward hers. She pauses, close enough that you can feel the heat of her breath.

“You’re not gonna kiss me?” you murmur, eyes locked on her mouth. 

“No,” she breathes, right before her lips part ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take my time ruining you.”

Your breath catches as her fingers tilt your face toward hers. The space between you narrows, so close you can taste it. The air between your mouths is hot, electric. You lean in, just slightly, lips parting, finally giving in—

And she pulls back.

Just enough to make you feel the absence. Just enough to let your lips close on nothing but air.

You blink, startled. “Did you just—”

Her hand is still on your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip like she’s toying with the idea of giving it back. Her mouth is curved into the smallest, cockiest smirk.

“I told you,” she murmurs. “I’m not rushing this.”

Your body betrays you—shifting forward again, chasing her warmth before you can stop yourself. But she’s already straightened up, taking her time as she studies you like something she’s already unwrapped and plans to make beg for more. Pretty sure the both of you are now disregarding what you said earlier about ‘not talking’.

“I hate you,” you mutter under your breath.

“You will,” she says, voice low. “But not yet.”

And then, finally, she leans down again. But not to kiss you. Her mouth brushes the side of your jaw, your throat, down the line of your neck with a pace that’s maddening, just enough to make your breath hitch, but not enough to satisfy a damn thing. It’s as if she's almost admiring the marks she had made previously. 

She’s not kissing you to please you. She’s kissing you like she owns the reaction. Like she’s staking a claim on every shiver.

“You’re not in charge tonight,” she murmurs against your collarbone.

And you know she means every word. But will you allow her to do so, is the real question. You let her kiss your neck. 

At first anyways.

She’s thorough, teasing. Her mouth traces lazy patterns along your throat, just beneath your jaw, like she’s mapping every spot that makes you sigh. Her hands are planted firm on either side of you, keeping you caged where she wants you. You tilt your head back, exposing your neck more. Letting her. Encouraging her to do more.

But then your hand moves. Slow and deliberate.

You reach up and thread your fingers through her ponytail. She pauses for half a second, barely a flicker, but you feel it. That moment of stillness when she realizes you’re not going to stay passive. You tug the tie loose. Her hair falls in waves, shadowing her face, brushing against your skin.

You lean in this time, close to her ear, your lips almost brushing the shell of it as you murmur, “Let me see you.”

She pulls back just a little, enough to look at you through the veil of her now-messy hair. Her pupils are blown wide. That smirk is gone. What’s there now is sharper. Hungrier. Giving the look of wanting to completely devour you whole. It almost makes your brain short circuit. Almost.

You press your palm to the center of her chest, guiding her back—not pushing, just leading.

“You think I’m the one not in charge,” you whisper, your tone just this side of daring.

She huffs once, barely a laugh, but she lets you shift her. And for the first time, she lets you take the lead.

At least for now.

The next few minutes go by as a blur as her clothes start to slowly drop one by one next to yours till she's just left standing bare, in front of you. You watch her every movement, eyes slowly gazing down her body feeling that if you blink you’ll miss something special. Tracing her scars. Her muscles. Her curves. All while somehow managing to keep your hands to yourself instead of immediately going to grasp her into your arms. 

Christ, she’s beautiful. 

Eventually, as you two manage to settle on the bed you guide her back until her weight settles against your hands, and for once, Sevika lets you take the reins. She watches you, eyes half-lidded but sharp, like a wolf humoring its prey. You swing a leg over her lap, straddling her. Her hands slide down to your thighs, but she doesn’t grip, doesn’t move, she’s waiting. Testing what you’ll do next.

And god, it’s addictive. That flicker of restraint. The subtle submission from someone who clearly doesn't give it easily. And damn does it look good on her. 

You lean in close, letting your lips ghost just shy of hers, and whisper, “Thought you said mixing business and pleasure ends in blood and a lawyer.”

Sevika’s lips curve faintly, amused, maybe, but she doesn’t answer. Not with words. She lets you kiss her first. You go slow, teasing. She lets you set the pace, her breath steady against your mouth, hands still resting on your legs like she's giving you space. But there’s tension coiled beneath her skin, ready to strike, should you fumble. Should you forget just who you’re sitting on.

Your fingers rake through her hair again, dragging her closer, deepening the kiss until it’s no longer soft. Until it tastes like need. Until she groans into your mouth—and that’s when it shifts.

Because you got cocky.

She grips your hips without warning and flips you beneath her in one fluid motion. The mattress bounces. You gasp, winded, arms flung above your head. And Sevika? She’s back in control. Her hair’s wild around her face, a few strands stuck to her lips. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t smirk.

She just looks down at you like she’s already decided how this ends.

“Cute,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough. “But you forgot—” 

Her hand wraps around your wrists and pins it to the bed.

“—I like to win.”

Then she kisses you again—harder, hungrier. With all the restraint gone. And you? You stop trying to pretend you’re not loving every second of it. Your wrist wriggling in her grip as her free hand trails down from your neck to your tit, groping it as if it’ll slip away from her forever. Her thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, the sensation erupting a gasp from your mouth. 

And of course she’d fucking chuckle. “You’re so sensitive” she murmurs, trailing her kisses down your neck, “maybe tonight you’ll come more than three times.”

As you opened your mouth to retort something back— all that came out was a strangled moan. 

Her mouth latching onto your tit, locking and sucking at your nipple as her eyes cast a glance at you. Her grip releases your wrists only to grasp your other breast in her hand, squeezing it roughly. Your hands went straight to her hair, tugging it harshly earning you a reaction from Sevika. She groans low in her throat, like she likes when it hurts. 

Sevika doesn’t rush. She never does. Every movement is deliberate—measured like she’s memorizing the shape of your body with her mouth. Her hands are firm at your sides, grounding you even as your breath stutters. She kisses lower, her mouth dragging heat across your sternum, between the curve of your breasts, down the center of your stomach.

You twitch under her, muscles clenching with every pass of her tongue.

But it’s when she gets lower, when her mouth ghosts over your hip bone, when her fingers grip your thighs and spread them apart—that something inside you snaps tight. She pauses.

Right there, in the space between your legs, her breath warm against you. She looks up.

And god— that fucking look.

Dark, calm, knowing. Her hair falls around her face in waves, her lips parted just slightly, and her eyes never leave yours. She holds the stare like a dare. Like she’s asking if you can handle her now that you’ve finally let her in this deep.

"You watching?" she murmurs, voice rough, barely audible. Her fingers press deeper into your thighs.

You nod. Or maybe you just breathe too loudly. You’re not even sure.

Sevika doesn’t break eye contact, “You look away, I'll stop.”

Your core twitched at her words. She didn’t even give you a second to even comprehend her words properly as her mouth finds itself on your soaked cunt, her tongue lapping at your folds, as if she belonged there. Her being precise and slow with her movements making sure you feel everything. Your hands tighten in her hair, as you let out desperate whine.

Worst part was she never broke eye contact. 

You felt her lips curl against your pussy as she murmured, the vibrations making your body jolt, “You taste fucking delicious.” 

Your hips buck into her mouth, forcing her to shut up. She compiled. Her tongue hot on you, dragging it up your wet pussy till she focused right on your clit. Sucking with the right amount of pleasure, flicking it occasionally as her hands grip your thighs tighter. Pulling you closer just to get her tongue deep in you. You writhe in her grip, eyes fluttering from the pleasure as you couldn't help the series of moans that left your mouth. 

The moment your head was thrown back, feeling Sevika groan against your cunt which only made the vibrations shoot up against your pussy, that familiar pit feeling brewing in your stomach till—

She went still. 

You felt two taps on your thigh. 

Oh.. She actually meant it. 

You slowly pick your head up, seeing her eyebrow subtly raised. 

“You thought I was joking?” she asked, her voice slightly rough, “I wanna see your face when you come sweetheart.”

“Shut up” you huff, out of breath. The flush on your cheeks not going unnoticed by her.

“Make m—” 

Before she could finish you shove her head back onto your dripping cunt, once again, silencing her as your hips moved in a rhythm against her mouth. Trying to chase your high, not moving your eyes away from the daring sight in front of you. You were pushing her head deeper against your core, her brushing at your clit with the right amount of pressure as her tongue was ruthless. Not giving you a chance to breathe, as the sounds coming out your mouth sounded like fucking music in her ears. 

“Fuck sev..”

“Mmh— Close?”

“Yeah— right there baby!” you choke on a moan as your hips twitched into her mouth, your grip in her hair so tight that your nails scratch her scalp erupting a moan from her. Your orgasm being ripped out of you as your thighs squeeze around her head, trembling from the pleasure, back arching as you’re helplessly grinding against her mouth. You spew out incoherent words, riding out your orgasm with your walls clenching around her tongue repetitively.

This time your head fell back, eyes shut from being overwhelmed but—

She’s not stopping. 

“Sev..” you whimper quietly trying to pry her away from your swollen pussy, being too sensitive. But she doesn't back away, no. She keeps going. Her tongue circled at your clit, as she brought her hand to spread your soaked folds apart.

“C'mon princess, I know you got another for me” she murmured hoarsely, watching your expression as your thighs trembled around her, easily getting overstimulated.

You shake your head no, but you knew you could. So did she. Her finger easily slides in making your hips buck into her touch. Her tongue lapping around your clit which only made you let out a broken moan. You tried to squeeze your legs shut but she held your thigh down— only adding another finger just to curl it in your sweet spot. Your cunt clenching around her fingers as you already quick to sputter out,

“Please—” your voice cracking as you let out a sob, your body twitching forward as your stomach felt tight. 

Didn’t think you’d be begging today. But here we are.

“Sev— god you’re so good to me baby— fuck!”

And damn was she in between your legs eating your dripping cunt out like she fucking owned it. Her nails digging into your thighs, almost bruising the skin, with her fingers pumping at a rapid pace as she occasionally brushes at your g-spot. It felt so overwhelming but pleasurable at the same damn time, leaving you pleading more.

"Right there oh— please!" you breath out, not even knowing what you were begging for anymore. But all you knew that her mouth was doing fucking wonders.

You were cursing loudly as your body writhed against her, shamelessly grinding up against her mouth as you felt a sharp pinch on your thigh again. As if it was a warning to keep your eyes back on her or she’ll stop again. 

You picked your head up again, this time your eyes being half-lidded from being overwhelmed as your body twitches in response. Your eyes meet hers again, with her tongue plunging deep in you as another orgasm just shot straight through you with your legs shaking against her shoulders. You felt her bite against your inner thigh, her teeth sinking into your flesh which makes you cry out in pleasure, claiming you as hers. Tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes due to the overstimulation, as she licked every drop from you. You were panting as you finally felt her come up, the cold air hitting against your used cunt like a slap.

You felt her hover above you, her fingers gripping your chin to face her. 

Just staring at you for a moment.

“Take a picture.. It’ll last longer” you managed to mumble with her huffing, almost resembling a laugh.

“Just can’t help yourself can you?” she whispers, kissing your forehead.

Which only made you open your eyes and smile in response. 

She leaned your forehead against yours as she stroked your cheek with her thumb, “You alright?”

“Fucking phenomenal”

Her mouth quirks. A sharp breath through her nose. And then—low and rough, a laugh slips out of her chest. Not a full one. More of a rumble. Like the kind of sound someone makes when they weren’t expecting to be amused but are anyway, and now they’re annoyed at themselves for it.

“Think you can handle a couple more?”

“A couple? You want me to pass out Sevika?” you say incredulously as your hand went up to wipe her chin that was coated with your arousal.

“What? If you could come three times last night, what's stopping you from a fourth?”

“My god I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I d— fuck” your words quickly dying off your lips as you felt Sevika’s soaked cunt lay right on top of yours. Your hands go straight to her shoulders, gasping from the touch.

Her hands next to your head kept herself up as her forehead remained against yours.

“You were saying?” she murmurs, having a hint of a smirk on her lips as she slowly moves her hips.

You just gave her a look that screamed, fuck you.

And she just gave one back as if she's saying, I am.

Regardless, your hands went to her hips only pulling her closer. Your legs parted more just so Sevika could lean back, her hands resting against your chest as her hips moved more frantically. As if she’s chasing her high and not being subtle about it. Almost as if she was using your body. You could give a fuck less having a view like this though. 

Sevika’s breathing gets heavier as she starts to elicit more moans out of that pretty mouth of hers. 

“So fucking gorgeous— and I bet no ones ever touched you like this before huh?” she spits, voice being slightly husky as she watches your reaction.

And you, being a fucking mess underneath her, could only just whisper out, “only you.”

She leans down to your ear to whisper— voice being husky, “If you can’t handle this, then you’re not ready for me to fuck you like the needy slut you are” 

And that only made you moan pathetically against her. Only making you more aroused by her words as your hands trailed behind her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze in response. All she did was chuckle from amusement as you felt her hand wrap around your throat to keep you pinned like that against the bed, and fuck did you almost see white at that. 

At this point you don’t even remember if you’ve orgasmed or not. You might have already, hell even twice at this point. The obscene noises that came from the both of you filled up the room, your hips grinding more eagerly against her just to see her expression be in pure bliss. She blurted out a few curse words, only indicating that she's close as your nails drag down along her back making angry red lines, only making her curse loudly in response. You leaned forward to capture your mouth around one of her nipples, sucking deliberately with your tongue lapping against her. Your eyes glancing up at her, meeting her gaze.

You felt her hand rake in your hair, only giving it a sharp tug off of her to capture your lips into a filthy and desperate kiss with a pressure that says you’re mine right now. You kiss her back like you mean it—like it’s a fight you don’t want to win.

“So fucking desperate, its pathetic” she murmurs against your lips before she crashes her mouth back against yours, as if she’s trying to prove her statement with you only parting your lips to allow her to slip her tongue in. Her hand cups the back of your neck, holding you there, deepening the kiss until you're gasping between touches. Your hands go to her waist, gripping tight. She tastes like heat and trouble and something addictive, something that’s going to fuck with your head long after this ends. 

You don’t remember the exact moment your body gave out. Somewhere between her voice in your ear, low and commanding, saying things that made your spine arch against her—and the relentless rhythm of her mouth, her hands, both your chests being pressed together, her everything…you eventually shattered.

You must’ve said her name. Or maybe begged. Maybe cursed. Actually, most likely cursed. You don’t really know. Everything blurred into heat and static, and then—

Nothing.

When your eyes open, the room is dim, bathed in soft yellow light from a lamp you don’t remember turning on. Your breathing feels distant. Limbs heavy. Skin flushed. There’s a lingering ache in your thighs and the lower part of your stomach, and the sheets are a mess around you. Hell, you probably grew a six pack from this alone.

You blink. Disoriented. Raw. You don’t even know what time it is. And then you feel it, a warm, damp cloth dragging gently over your inner thigh. Careful. Focused.

“What the hell…” you say as if you’re caught in a daze.

You glance down—and there she is.

Sevika. Sitting on the edge of the bed, that familiar stoic look on her face softened by just enough concern to rattle you. Her hair’s still messy from your hands. Her lip has the faintest mark of where your teeth caught her. You realize she’s been tending to you this whole time. Her hand presses lightly against your hip when you shift, holding you still like she’s done this before. Like she doesn’t want you to overdo it. She’s seated near your thighs, wiping you down with slow, methodical care. Her face is unreadable, except for the tiniest twitch of amusement tugging at her mouth.

Your voice is rough. Barely a whisper, “…Did I pass out?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just folded the cloth then tossed it onto the nightstand beside an empty water bottle and your very-much-forgotten phone.

Then she finally looks at you. “For like two minutes. Real dramatic, too—went all limp on me mid-sentence.”

You groan and cover your face with both hands. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. You were out like a light.”

There’s a pause. Then, with a maddening smirk,

“What was it you said earlier? ‘You want me to pass out, Sevika?’”

Your hands drop from your face to glare at her. “Okay, wow. You’re quoting me now? Again?”

“You handed it to me. I just did the work.”

You stare at her in half-mortified silence, and she stares right back, utterly unrepentant.

Then you mutter, “This is the worst day of my life.”

“You said that yesterday too,” she points out, rising from the bed to grab a water bottle, unhurried and bare-chested like she’s in her own damn apartment.

“And yet, you keep inviting me over.”

You flop onto your stomach with a groan, face half-buried in the pillow. “Oh my God. You’re going to tell people, aren’t you?” 

“No.” She tosses the water bottle at you like a reward. “I’m gonna remind you. Every time you try to get mouthy with me.”

You peek up through the strands of your hair, already feeling heat crawl up your neck.

“You’re evil.”

“And you’re still here.” She sits at the edge of the bed again, hand dragging lazily down your back as you melt under her touch.

And yeah, you’re still here. Still aching. Still thinking about another round.

God help you.

“This is my room” you huff, reminding her.

“Yeah yeah— just sit up,” she sighs, rolling her eyes with her lips barely curled up as a small smile, while she picks up the water bottle to open it. 

You reluctantly sat up, wincing just barely from your thighs still slightly quivering. She held the bottle near your mouth before you took it, drinking almost all of it in one go. She just chuckled quietly from amusement. 

It wasn’t long till you two were back in bed, this time underneath the covers. You were laying on her chest as her hand was laying underneath her head. The TV flickers with the late-night glow of some old sitcom rerun—laugh track too loud, colors washed out. You’re lying halfway on Sevika’s chest, one of your legs lazily tangled over hers. Her arm rests behind your shoulders, fingers occasionally brushing absentminded circles into your back like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

You’re warm. Sore. Drowsy in that post-everything way. Sleep is pulling at your limbs, but your mind won’t let go. Not yet. Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“What did you mean earlier?”

She shifts slightly. Doesn’t answer at first. You keep your cheek against her chest, hear the steady beat of her heart.

“About me being ‘worth it.’ After the whole thing with..” you trail off, knowing Sevika knew what you were mentioning.

A beat. Two.

Her fingers still for a moment.

“…I meant what I said.”

You lift your head just enough to look at her. “That’s not an answer.”

She exhales through her nose. A dry, humorless sound. Her eyes stay on the TV, but her focus clearly isn’t there. “It was messy. Dangerous. I swore I wouldn’t get close again. That I’d keep shit clean. Safe.”

A pause. Then, “But then you stormed in, yelling at that brat and saving a whole damn band in heels, and I—” 

She breaks off. Shrugs one shoulder like the words aren’t worth finishing. You wait. Say nothing.

Finally, she glances down at you. Her voice is quieter this time. Lower. Honest, “You’re not safe.. But you’re worth the mess.”

Your breath catches. You study her face, the way she’s looking at you, all rough around the edges but solid. Intentional. Not playing. Not posturing. Just Sevika, stripped of everything but the truth. You blink slowly.

“That’s the nicest terrifying thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She huffs a small laugh, and that seems to break the weight between you.

“Good. You terrify me too princess.”

You smile softly, then lean in to kiss the corner of her mouth—slow and sleepy and grateful. And when she pulls you back against her, hand resting over your waist, as her arm holds you close against her, you finally let your eyes close.

You don’t need all the answers tonight.

But damn, she gave you enough. For now anyways.

[kenzdolls]

TOTAL INSECURITY .

⌗ pairing: {established relationship} katsuki bakugou x jealous! reader

⌗ trigger warnings: jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, emotional distress, anxiety, miscommunication, crying, negative self-talk.

⌗ anon request: hello! I was wondering if you could make a story where y/n is getting jealous over katsuki getting close to another girl classmate? like basically him and another girl in class 1-a start training and hangout a bit and reader starts getting a bit jealous and insecure, basically a comfort fic. i’d really appreciate it cause i’m kind of in a mood today 🥹

⌗ a/n: thx for requesting this!! uh, i decided to use a random Japanese generator name thingy because i didn’t want to use any of the actual mha girls. and yes, I am doing requests. I JUST CAN’T FIND PHOTOS. [edit: if you get what the title name is from, ilysm.]

the first time you noticed her, she was standing at the front of class 1-a with that nervous smile transfer students always wore. emiko tanaka—her quirk was something called "energy sync" that let her match and amplify others' abilities temporarily. aizawa had explained it in his usual monotone, but you'd been more focused on the way katsuki's eyes had lingered on her demonstration.

"interesting," he'd muttered, and something cold had settled in your stomach.

you'd been dating katsuki for six months now. six months of his rare soft smiles, of him walking you to class with his hand in yours, of quiet moments where his guard dropped completely. you thought you'd gotten past the worst of your insecurities, but watching emiko successfully sync with his explosions during their first paired training session brought them all rushing back.

"she's really good," kirishima commented, watching as emiko's borrowed explosions created a perfect crater in the training ground. "her control is insane."

"yeah," you managed, throat tight. "really good."

katsuki was grinning—actually grinning—as he helped emiko up from where she'd been knocked back by the recoil. when was the last time he'd smiled like that during training? when was the last time he'd looked at you like that? you tried to remember, but all you could focus on was the way his hands lingered on her arms as he steadied her, the way she looked up at him with those bright eyes full of admiration.

over the next few weeks, it became routine. emiko would pair with katsuki for combat training, their quirks complementing each other perfectly. she could handle his explosive power better than anyone else in class, and he seemed to thrive on having a partner who could keep up. you watched from the sidelines during training, paired with whoever was left, trying not to notice how natural they looked together.

you told yourself it was just training. professional. but then you started noticing the little things.

the way katsuki would wait for her after class, both of them heading to the gym for extra practice while you walked back to the dorms alone. how he'd explain techniques to her with unusual patience, his voice lacking its typical harsh edge. the inside jokes that developed between them—references to their training sessions that made her laugh and him smirk with satisfaction. how she'd save him a seat at lunch sometimes, or bring him notes from classes he'd missed.

you found yourself studying them during meals, watching how comfortable they'd become with each other. emiko would steal food from his plate without him threatening to explode her face off—something that had taken you months to achieve. she'd tease him about his study habits, and he'd actually laugh instead of shouting. worse, she understood his ambitions in a way that felt similar to you, nodding along when he talked about being the number one hero, asking questions that showed she actually listened.

"you're being ridiculous," you whispered to yourself one evening, watching through the gym windows as they worked through a complex combination attack. emiko was practicing syncing with his explosions while moving, and every time she succeeded, katsuki's face would light up with genuine pride. but when she stumbled and katsuki caught her, steadying her with hands on her waist, both of them laughing breathlessly from the exertion, you couldn't stop the tears that blurred your vision.

you turned away before either of them could see you, but not before you heard emiko say, "thanks, katsuki. you're an amazing teacher." the warmth in her voice made your chest ache.

the breaking point came during a weekend study session. you'd been looking forward to spending time with katsuki, had even picked up his favorite snacks from the convenience store. but he'd gotten a text from emiko about needing help with a hero law assignment.

"rain check?" he'd asked, already reaching for his jacket. "she's struggling with the case studies, and you know how brutal those are."

you'd nodded, forced a smile, told him it was fine. but as you watched him leave, something inside you cracked. he used to help you with hero law. he used to be the one you could count on for study sessions and quiet conversations about your dreams. you remembered sitting in his room for hours, him patiently explaining legal precedents while you struggled to understand the complex cases.

now he was rushing off to help someone else, and you were left wondering if you were being replaced. the snacks sat unopened on your desk, mocking you.

the next few days passed in a blur of forced normalcy. you smiled when katsuki kissed you good morning, laughed at his jokes, pretended not to notice when he and emiko would disappear for their training sessions. but the doubt was eating at you, whispering cruel things in the quiet moments.

she's stronger than you. more compatible with his quirk. she doesn't flinch when he shouts, doesn't need the gentle handling you sometimes require. she's everything you're not.

you started avoiding the gym, finding excuses to skip group training sessions. when katsuki asked why, you'd claim you were tired or had homework. the lies tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn't bear to watch them together anymore, couldn't stand seeing how effortlessly she fit into the space you'd thought was yours.

mina noticed first, cornering you after class one day. "hey, what's going on? you've been weird lately."

"nothing," you'd deflected, but she saw right through you.

"it's about bakugou and the new girl, isn't it?" she'd said gently, and your face must have given you away because she sighed. "oh, honey."

"it's stupid," you'd whispered, but mina shook her head.

"feelings aren't stupid. but you should talk to him instead of torturing yourself like this."

but how could you? how could you tell the person you loved that you were terrified of losing him? that every interaction he had with emiko felt like a knife in your chest?

you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice katsuki approaching until he dropped into the seat beside you at lunch.

"you're being weird," he said without preamble, red eyes studying your face. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you replied automatically, stabbing at your rice with more force than necessary. across the cafeteria, you could see emiko sitting with some of the other girls, occasionally glancing over at your table.

"bullshit." his voice was low, meant only for you. "you've been avoiding me for three days. did i do something?"

the concern in his tone almost broke you. this was katsuki—your katsuki—who noticed when you were upset, who cared enough to ask. but then you saw emiko approaching from across the cafeteria, and the doubt came rushing back.

"i'm fine," you insisted, standing abruptly. "i just... i need some air."

you felt his eyes on you as you left, but you didn't turn back. you also didn't see the confused look he exchanged with emiko when she asked if you were okay.

that evening, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your homework without really seeing it, when someone knocked on your door. you knew that knock—sharp, impatient, but not aggressive. katsuki.

"we need to talk," he said when you opened the door, and his expression was serious enough that you stepped aside to let him in.

he sat on your desk chair, turning it to face you as you perched on the edge of your bed. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you could hear the sounds of your classmates in the hallway, muffled conversations and laughter that felt worlds away from the tension in your room.

"are you breaking up with me?"

the question hit you like a physical blow. "what? no! why would you—"

"because you've been acting like you can't stand to be around me," he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "and i can't figure out what i did wrong."

the raw vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. this was what your insecurity had done—made the person you loved most think he was losing you.

"you didn't do anything wrong," you said quietly. "i just... i've been stupid."

"about what?"

you took a shaky breath, fingers twisting in your lap. "about you and emiko."

katsuki's eyebrows shot up. "me and—what the hell are you talking about?"

"you've been spending so much time with her," you continued, the words tumbling out now that you'd started. "training together, studying together, and she's so good with your quirk, and you smile at her in ways you haven't smiled at me in weeks, and i just—" your voice cracked. "i started thinking maybe you realized you'd be better off with someone who could actually keep up with you."

the silence that followed was deafening. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, couldn't bear to see confirmation of your fears in his expression.

then you felt the bed dip as he sat beside you, his hand covering yours.

"look at me," he said softly, and when you reluctantly met his eyes, they were intense but gentle. "you really think i'd rather be with her?"

"i don't know," you whispered. "maybe? she's stronger than me, her quirk works better with yours—"

"stop." his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't realized were falling. "just stop."

he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "you wanna know why i've been training with her so much? because aizawa paired us up for the upcoming exercise, and i didn't want to look like an idiot in front of the whole class. you wanna know why i help her with homework? because she asked, and i'm not a complete asshole, despite what everyone thinks."

his thumbs traced across your cheekbones. "but you wanna know what i think about when i'm with her? i think about how she's not you. how her laugh doesn't make my chest feel warm, how she doesn't know that i like my coffee with too much sugar, how she's never seen me have a nightmare and stayed up all night to make sure i was okay."

"katsuki—"

"i'm not done." his voice was firmer now, more like the katsuki you knew. "she's a good training partner. hell, she's a good person. but she's not the person i want to come home to. she's not the person i think about when i'm falling asleep, or the person i want to tell when something good happens."

he pulled back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "she's not you, and she never could be. you think i care about quirk compatibility? about who's stronger? i fell in love with you because you're you—because you see good in people, because you believe in me even when i don't believe in myself, because you make me want to be better than i am."

"but you seem so happy when you're with her," you protested weakly.

"i'm happy when i'm getting stronger. when i'm working toward being the best hero i can be. but you know what makes me happiest?" he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "coming back to you afterward. telling you about my day, hearing about yours, just... being with you."

the last of your defenses crumbled. "i'm sorry," you breathed. "i'm so sorry, i just—"

"got scared," he finished, pulling you into his arms. "i get it. but next time you're feeling like this, talk to me, okay? don't just disappear on me. i can't fix a problem if i don't know it exists."

you nodded against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. "i love you," you murmured.

"love you too," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "more than you know."

you stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before katsuki spoke again.

"for the record, though, your quirk works perfectly with mine too. remember last month when we took down that simulation villain together? that was all us, no borrowed power needed."

you pulled back to look at him, finding that familiar smirk on his face. "you're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "my partner got jealous over a training buddy. it's pretty cute, actually."

"shut up," you laughed, pushing at his shoulder, but he caught your hand and brought it to his lips.

"make me," he challenged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

so you did, leaning in to kiss him properly, pouring all your love and relief and apologies into the gesture. when you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, you felt like yourself again.

"so," you said, settling back against his side, "tell me about this training exercise you're so worried about."

and as he launched into an explanation of the complex scenario aizawa had planned, complete with dramatic gestures and colorful commentary about your classmates' weaknesses, you realized something important: this was what you'd been missing. not the explosive training sessions or the patient tutoring, but this—the quiet intimacy of sharing daily life with someone who chose you, again and again.

emiko was a good training partner. but you were katsuki's everything, and he was yours.

that was more than enough.

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @cupkiki [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ✦

© KENZDOLLS 2025 . do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work in anyway including the use of ai onto any other social media platforms or it will permit an instant block on all platforms.

[sunsetmade]

Can you do a rafe x gf!reader where he's just been really distant and she tries to make him happy then he lashes out and calls her clingy and it makes her soooo sad and insecure and he feels so bad and makes it up to her the next day

Slipping Through

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Rafe had been distant lately.

And not in the casual, “just busy” kind of way. Not the kind of distant that came with late nights or long days. This was different. This was bone-deep, soul-quiet kind of distant. Cold in a way that made her shiver even when he was sitting right next to her. The air around him had shifted—grown heavier, sharper—until it filled every room they shared with something unspoken and stifling.

He’d been quieter. Shorter. His texts less frequent, his touches more fleeting. He stared at his phone like it held more answers than she ever could, disappearing without warning and returning without explanation. And when he was around, he wasn’t really there. His body was in the room, sure—but his mind? His eyes? They were somewhere far away, and she didn’t know how to follow.

At first, she tried not to overthink it. Rafe carried a lot—expectations from Ward, the weight of the Cameron name, and whatever war raged inside his own head. He wasn’t the best at handling it, never had been. She told herself it would pass, that he just needed space. Time. Quiet. But the more days slipped by like this, the more she felt herself shrinking, folding in on herself, reaching for pieces of him that kept slipping through her fingers.

She missed him.

Missed the curve of his mouth when he smirked at her like she was the only one who mattered. Missed the way he’d hook his pinky around hers when they walked through a crowd. Missed his hand on her knee when they watched movies—warm, possessive, grounding.

Missed being his peace.

So she tried to bring him back. Little by little.

She cleaned his apartment—wiped down every surface, folded his laundry, even scrubbed the stovetop he always forgot about. She picked up his favorite snacks without asking, tucked his favorite gum into the console of his truck so he’d find it the next time he got in. She wore the hoodie he loved—soft and slouchy and sliding off one shoulder—and showed up with a coffee in hand, made just how he liked it. She didn’t push. She didn’t beg. She just… tried.

And tonight, she cooked.

Steak and mashed potatoes, buttery and rich and made with the kind of care you could taste. She lit candles even though she felt a little silly doing it. Put on music—nothing too much, just soft background hums to fill the silence she hated so much. She didn’t let herself hope too hard, but her heart still fluttered in her chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo to be cautious.

He was late.

Thirty minutes, then forty.

She kept the food warm and tried to keep her hands from wringing. By the time the door opened, the candles had burned low and the music was looping for the second time.

Rafe stepped inside, rubbing a hand over his face like he was already exhausted. His eyes flicked toward the table, but he didn’t react. No smile. No acknowledgment of the effort. Just a tired, annoyed breath.

“Didn’t know we were doing some big thing tonight.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “It’s not a big thing. I just… I thought you had a rough week, and I wanted to do something nice. That’s all.”

He didn’t sit. Didn’t take off his jacket. Just stood near the island, shoulders tense, eyes darting toward the floor.

“I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, okay?” His tone was clipped, edged with something sharp.

“I know. That’s why I—”

“Yeah, I got it,” he snapped, cutting her off. “You’re always trying to do something. Always right there, up under me, hovering like I’m gonna fall apart if you’re not holding my damn hand.”

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t yelling, but the words hit like a shout. Her stomach turned.

“It’s just too much,” he muttered, not even looking at her.

Too much.

The words echoed in her head like a bell, loud and hollow and final. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She stood frozen in the soft glow of the candles, surrounded by a meal gone cold and silence gone sharp.

“I was just trying to help,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Rafe let out a bitter sigh, like she was the burden. “Sometimes it feels like you’re just… clingy, you know? Like I can’t even think with you always needing something from me.”

Clingy.

It landed in her chest like a stone.

She didn’t cry. Not yet. But something inside her pulled taut, like a thread stretched too far. She felt it—that aching shift from warmth to shame. Her heart had been so full of hope, and now it just hurt.

She nodded.

Once.

Then again, slower.

Again, like it was the only thing she knew how to do.

He watched her, some of the tension starting to drain from his posture, but it was too late. The words were already out. The damage already done.

Her voice, when it came again, was flat. Hollow. “I should go.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. Didn’t ask if he wanted her to stay. She just turned away, hands moving on their own as she gathered her things. The hoodie he loved. Her keys. Her purse. The quiet clink of silverware as she brushed past the table was the only sound in the room.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” she added, softer now. Like maybe she could still take up less space.

She didn’t wait for him to answer.

The front door clicked shut behind her.

⸻

The next day, the silence was deafening.

No “good morning” text waiting on his phone.

No heart emojis.

No blurry snapshots of her coffee mug sitting beside one of his hoodies.

Nothing.

Rafe unlocked his phone before he even sat up in bed, thumb hovering over her name in his messages. The thread was right where he left it—her last message a heart-eyed emoji she’d sent the day before, after she told him she was making his favorite for dinner.

He hadn’t responded.

He stared at it for a beat too long before switching apps. Instagram. No story updates. No little circle around her profile picture. He refreshed once, then again, as if that would magically change something.

It didn’t.

And maybe—maybe—he should’ve felt relieved. After all, wasn’t this what he said he wanted? Space? Quiet? No constant check-ins. No sticky notes on his dashboard reminding him to eat lunch. No texts at 2 a.m. asking if he made it home okay. No sweet little nudges that said I’m thinking about you, even when he didn’t deserve them.

But he didn’t feel relieved.

He felt empty.

Worse—he felt wrong. Like something inside him had been ripped loose, and now the space it left behind was echoing.

His stomach twisted as her face came back to him in sharp, unwanted clarity—eyes wide with hurt, mouth parted in shock, that slow, stunned nod that said okay even though her heart was breaking. She hadn’t fought back. Hadn’t yelled. She just… shrunk, like he’d drained the light out of her.

And he had.

Rafe raked a hand through his hair, jaw clenching hard. He hadn’t meant it like that. God, he hadn’t meant it at all. He was just overwhelmed—Ward had been on his back about everything lately, snapping at every little thing. The pressure in his chest hadn’t let up for weeks. He felt like he was one wrong move away from collapsing.

But she hadn’t been part of the pressure. She was supposed to be the opposite. She had always been the calm after the storm, not the storm itself. Her love came soft and steady, with warm hands and sweet gestures and the kind of quiet devotion he didn’t know what to do with—but damn it, he needed it. Even if he pretended he didn’t.

And what did he do with that softness?

He crushed it.

He snapped at her. Brushed off her care like it was a burden. Called her clingy—clingy, like she hadn’t been the only thing keeping him from drowning most days.

And now she was silent.

Rafe couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t think straight. The walls of his room felt like they were closing in on him, so he grabbed his keys and left without a plan. His truck roared to life, and before he knew it, he was halfway across town, hands tight on the wheel, knuckles white.

He didn’t even think about where he was going—his instincts were stronger than his guilt.

And then he was there.

Her place.

The street was quiet, sunlight filtering through the trees in soft golden patches, as if the world didn’t know he was on the verge of unraveling. He parked across the street, heart beating like a war drum. He didn’t know if she’d be home. Didn’t know if she’d want to see him if she was.

But then he saw her.

Through the window.

Curled up on the couch, knees drawn up beneath her, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold in all the pieces. She was wearing a hoodie—not his—and staring off into space like whatever show was playing barely registered. Her face looked… blank. Not angry. Not crying anymore. Just tired in a way that scared him.

Because he did that.

He made her retreat into herself. Pulled the light right out of her.

He sat there for a second longer, hands gripping the steering wheel. Then he got out of the truck.

Walked up the steps.

And knocked.

The door opened after a long pause.

She stood there, backlit by the soft glow of a nearby lamp, dressed in sleep shorts and socks. Her arms were crossed protectively over her stomach like she was holding herself together from the inside out. And she looked… smaller. Not physically—but emotionally.

Her cheeks were flushed, not from warmth, but from crying. Her eyes were glossy, tired, rimmed with the kind of red that came from quiet sobs and too much thinking. But even so, they were blank. Not angry. Not resentful. Just… tired.

Rafe’s breath caught.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice unusually tentative, like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be speaking to her at all.

She didn’t respond.

No smile. No questions. Just a step back, wordless, allowing him in with the smallest motion of her head.

He hesitated in the doorway, guilt sitting heavy in his chest like lead. The silence between them wasn’t sharp—it was hollow. Like everything warm had been scooped out and replaced with nothing at all. He watched her retreat back to the couch, small and quiet as she tucked her legs up beneath her and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t ask why he came.

Didn’t try to fill the silence.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than if she’d screamed.

Rafe shut the door gently behind him. The soft click echoed through the room.

“I messed up,” he said, his voice rougher this time.

She nodded once, but it was slow. Empty. Like her body was on autopilot, giving him the bare minimum.

“Like—really messed up,” he added quickly, desperate for her to hear the weight behind it.

Another nod.

Still no words.

His stomach twisted.

She wasn’t shutting him out—she wasn’t even guarded. She was just… absent. Disconnected in a way that made his skin crawl. Like she’d already started building a wall to protect herself from him, brick by painful brick.

“Baby,” he said, voice cracking as he crossed the room. He knelt in front of her, his hands bracing the edge of the couch cushion like he needed the anchor. “I didn’t mean that shit. I swear, I didn’t. I was stressed and pissed off and I took it out on you, and that’s—God, that’s on me. That’s all on me.”

She didn’t pull away.

But she didn’t lean in either.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. Small. Like she was trying not to cry again. “You called me clingy.”

Rafe flinched like she’d struck him. His jaw tightened. “I know. I shouldn’t have. That was—fuck—it was cruel. And wrong. You’re not clingy. You’re good—too good to me. You care. You love me in a way I don’t even know how to deserve yet, and I threw it in your face.”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet his.

They were wet, but not spilling over. Rimmed in hurt. Dim in a way he had never seen on her before.

“I didn’t know I was too much for you,” she whispered. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“You do,” he said instantly, leaning closer. “You make me so fucking happy. You’re the only thing that feels good when everything else is chaos. I’ve just… I’ve been stuck in my own head. And instead of leaning on you like I should’ve, I pushed you away.”

She looked down at her lap, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie—twisting the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

“I kept trying to be enough for you,” she said, barely audible. “Trying to make everything perfect. I thought if I just did more… if I loved you harder… you’d come back. You wouldn’t feel so far away.”

Rafe’s heart cracked wide open. His throat tightened, the air catching somewhere between apology and regret. He reached for her hand slowly—gently—and when she didn’t pull away, he wrapped his fingers around hers, thumb brushing across the back of her hand.

“I’m already yours,” she said after a moment, voice so quiet it barely reached him. “You didn’t have to shove me away to get space. You could’ve just told me.”

He swallowed hard, staring at her hand in his, overwhelmed by how fragile it felt—like she might let go at any second.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to fight for a place in my life,” he murmured. “You already have one. You always have. I just… I get in my own way. I let everything pile up and instead of talking to you, I shut down. And you paid for it.”

She finally looked at him—really looked. And it wrecked him.

Her eyes were glassy, rimmed with unshed tears, but they didn’t fall. There was no dramatic outburst. No trembling lower lip. Just that quiet kind of heartbreak that lives in the silence between people who love each other deeply but are still learning how to handle it.

“Why did you say it?” she asked softly, her voice a careful whisper, like she was afraid the answer might hurt more than the question.

Rafe let out a slow, unsteady breath. It was the kind of question that cracked something open in him.

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, voice rough with guilt. “Everything’s been piling up—my dad, expectations, all of it—and I’ve been drowning. And instead of reaching for you—the one person who actually makes me feel like I can breathe—I pushed you away.”

He swallowed hard. His voice lowered. “I guess… I thought if I let you get too close, if you saw all the cracks, all the mess, I’d fall apart in front of you. And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then her gaze softened, something raw and honest settling into her expression. “You already have fallen apart in front of me,” she whispered. “And I stayed.”

The words hit him square in the chest, almost knocking the breath out of him.

Rafe’s throat tightened, eyes burning. “And I’ll never forget that. I swear to God, I’ll never take that for granted again.”

He shifted closer until he was kneeling at the edge of the couch again, then leaned forward, resting his head gently against her knee like he was surrendering—like he was placing his heart there and asking her to take him back.

“I miss you,” he murmured. “I missed you even when you were standing right in front of me last night. You were trying so hard to love me, and I was too far in my own shit to appreciate it. To appreciate you.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap, like she was debating whether or not to reach for him. Slowly—hesitantly—she brought her hand to his hair, fingertips brushing through it. Testing the waters.

When he leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering shut, something in her chest loosened.

“You make me feel safe, Rafe,” she said quietly. “Even when you don’t know what you’re doing. Even when you’re a mess. But last night…” She trailed off, breath hitching faintly. “Last night, I didn’t feel safe. I felt like I was annoying you just by existing. Like being near you was the last thing you wanted.”

Rafe flinched like her words physically hurt. He lifted his head, eyes red and glassy now too, and looked up at her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I hate that I made you feel that way. I hate myself for it.”

Her brows pulled together, the tiniest crease forming. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice raw. “But if you don’t want me to, then… let me show you. Let me show you how much I regret it. How much I love you.”

There was a long pause. Not because she was unsure—but because she needed a second. A moment to let his words settle, to let her heart steady itself.

Then, finally, she nodded.

Not dramatic. Not rushed.

Just a soft, slow movement that felt like hope.

“You’re already trying,” she said quietly.

Rafe rose to his feet, hands reaching for her with reverence. He pulled her up into his arms and held her like something precious. Like something fragile that he’d nearly shattered.

Her cheek pressed to his chest, and she let herself melt into him with a shaky breath, clinging just a little tighter than usual.

And this time—he didn’t pull away.

He cradled her like she was home.

“I love you,” he murmured into her hair, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t say it last night. I should have. I love you so much it scares me.”

She tilted her face up to look at him, her lips trembling with the ghost of a smile. “Even if I’m clingy?”

He gave a soft, breathy laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His arms tightened around her like he’d never let go again.

“You’re not clingy,” he whispered. “You’re mine.”

⸻

The next day, he showed up at her door just after noon—nervous, fidgety, and holding far more than just an apology.

In one arm, he cradled a bouquet of her favorite flowers—sun-warmed peonies and blush-pink ranunculus, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a navy ribbon. In the other, a canvas tote bag stuffed full with comfort: her favorite snacks (the obscure chocolate bars she loved, the salty chips he used to tease her for), a mason jar of homemade sweet tea, and a hoodie—soft, oversized, the color of a summer sky, with his name stitched in white thread along the sleeve like a promise.

She opened the door slowly, brows lifting in surprise.

“I know flowers won’t fix it,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “But I wanted to start somewhere.”

He handed over the tote bag, brushing her fingers with his own. “There’s something inside,” he added, voice lower now. “Something… I needed you to read.”

Tucked between the folded hoodie and a sleeve of cookies was a note. Not typed. Not copied and pasted from something impersonal. This was handwritten—slightly messy, the ink smudged in the corner like maybe he’d hesitated halfway through.

It read:

You’re not too much. You’ve always been exactly what I needed—even when I didn’t deserve you. Thank you for loving me anyway. I promise I’ll love you better now.

- R. C

Her fingers trembled slightly as she folded the note back up, eyes wet but clear. She didn’t say much—just reached out and hugged him. No words. Just arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his chest, and a soft, shaky breath that told him she believed him.

And after that, he made good on every word.

He showed up—not just once, but every day after. Not with grand gestures, but with quiet consistency.

He took up space on her couch, close enough to touch. Sat beside her while she worked, brushing his knee against hers every now and then just to feel her there. He rubbed gentle circles into her back when she couldn’t sleep and rested his hand on her thigh like it was instinct, like she was home.

He kissed her forehead when she was stressed. Her knuckles when she doubted herself. Her shoulders when she curled in on herself, too unsure to speak.

He took pictures of her when she wasn’t looking—curled up with a book, dancing barefoot in the kitchen, laughing at something dumb he said—and made them his lock screen, his wallpaper, his everything.

And when she got quiet—too quiet—he didn’t pull away anymore. He held her tighter. Kissed her temple. Told her she didn’t have to say anything for him to understand her.

Because he did.

She wasn’t too much. She never was.

She was soft. And steady. And his.

And he would never let his own chaos drown her again.

Not when she had saved him from it more times than he could count.

[applericecake]

Wake me up when you come to bed | CB97

Oh pls give me ideas etc! im trying to get better!

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Domestic Fluff, Comfort, Sleepy Moments, Soft Chan, Established Relationship

1.1k words

You were just about to wander to the bedroom to change into your pajamas when you hear the familiar sound of a key scratching and clicking in the lock. Light from the hallway shines into the apartment, momentarily overpowering the small lamp on the living room table. You hear the door close; a pair of shoes being placed on the floor, and then the sound of tired footsteps behind you.

“Hello, Chris,” you say, not yet turned toward the hallway.

In response, he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Welcome home,” you whisper, reaching up to softly stroke his hair.

In return, you get a low hum and a small peck on the neck. He takes a deep breath that turns into a sigh as he exhales.

“I missed you.”

Neither of you moves, nothing but the warmth between the two of you exists. His body relaxes, like he’s only able to around you. For a moment, there are no worries left in his brain, the thoughts about budget, practice, deadlines, and arrangements all fade to nothingness as he takes another deep breath, inhaling the faint smell of your perfume. The perfume that’s not quite worn off. The one he bought you. The one you’re keeping secret so none of the fans can copy it.

You loosen his arms enough to turn around and look at him. Everything about him is tired: his otherwise strong shoulders slack, his arms still resting around your waist, even the smile that appears on his face as soon as you gently cradle his face in your hand. He leans into your palm, you can practically feel the pressure he’s under.

After another deep breath, his eyes open again.

“I’ll be in the office for a bit. I’m so sorry.”

He looks down at your face, trying to find discontent in what he just said, disappointment that he came home so late and still can’t spend the evening with you. But he finds nothing of the sort in your gaze. Only warmth and admiration.

You pull his face closer and give him a soft kiss on the lips. Your noses touch as you rest your forehead against his.

Lucky for him, you didn’t fall for his amount of free time; you fell for him, his work ethic, his dedication, and care.

“You’re doing so well,” your voice is relaxed and filled with honesty.

“God, I am so lucky to have you,” he replies, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, his lips linger on yours, not wanting to leave just yet.

After a pleasant eternity, he unwraps his arms and lets you go as he walks away. He holds onto your arm, then your hand, for as long as possible. It’s like he wants you to follow him into the office.

Of course he wants you to.

And truth be told, you do too. But you’re so tired.

You follow him into the hallway, watching him open the door to the room at the end, the one you turned into a home office for whoever needs it at the time. You, however, turn right into your bedroom. The door is already open.

On the bed is the pajama set you picked out. It’s cute, a two-piece button-up and pants. But you don’t feel like it anymore. Instead, you walk to the chair that houses all the clothes that are already worn but not dirty and pick out one of Chan’s shirts. It fits you well, exactly like your boyfriend’s shirt is supposed to.

You fold up the two-piece, put it back into the drawer, and make your way into the bathroom.

As you brush your teeth and do your skincare, you can hear Chan in the office: connecting cables, setting up his laptop, rolling around in the office chair, humming to whatever he’s working on. He only stops when you knock on the doorframe to announce your presence.

His headphones fall around his neck as he looks up.

“I’ve come to say good night, Mr. Bahng,” you say, stepping toward him.

“Good night, Mrs. Bahng-to-be,” he smiles, reaching out for your hand as he speaks.

You give in the moment you feel him pulling you toward him and prop your arms on the armrests.

“I like that name,” you chuckle.

“(Y/N) Bahng?” he returns, and you nod.

“I’m so, so sleepy,” you say, suppressing a yawn.

“I’ll be there eventually.”

He looks up at you with those warm, dark brown eyes, taking in the way your mouth curves into a smile.

“Wake me up when you come to bed, yeah?” you whisper before standing up straight.

“I can’t wait.”

He squeezes your hand as you turn around.

Falling asleep is easy. You drift off to the faint sound of Chan’s keyboard in the background.

You wake up to the feeling of the blanket being lifted. Chris slides under the covers behind you. You feel him carefully adjusting himself to get comfortable before his arm finds your waist.

You hum and turn onto your back. His arm and hand now rest on your stomach. You look up at him.

He’s propped up on his elbow. Even in the dim light coming through the window, you can tell he’s looking at you.

“As promised,” he whispers, leaning over you. He carefully moves his arm upward so he can lean down and give you a soft kiss.

Your arms reach up practically by instinct and wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss in the process. He comes closer without hesitation. You feel the warmth radiating from his chest, your sides touching, though he’s still careful not to put any real weight on you.

But you're having none of that. You pull him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck, your senses flooded by his scent.

Of course, he’s not complaining. Entirely content with the lack of space between you, he hums in a low tone.

After a while, he prints kisses from your temple over your cheek to your mouth and finally creates some space between your faces by lying on his side.

He lifts his arm, motioning for you to reposition yourself, which you gladly do, turning on your side, away from him. His arm finds your waist once again. He pulls himself close: his breath on your neck, his chest pressed against your back, and his arm around your stomach.

You feel as comfortable as humanly possible.

Your thoughts trail back to when you met him, already established, already famous, already incredibly stressed. Clips of him saying he has trouble sleeping going viral every week.

The rhythmic breathing behind you tells you: that issue is long gone.

[writer-freak]

Jinu headcanons I’m on my knees begging you omg I’m OBSESSED (sfw and nsfw 👀)

A/n: Hell yeah I love writing for the Saja boys so here are my headcanons for Jinu and I hope you guys enjoy <3

He is kinda awkwardly smooth. Like he tries to be slick but fumbles halfway through. “You, uh… you look good in that. Distractingly good. Not that I’m distracted, I mean, shit.” You laugh. While he’s bright red.

Gets super flustered when you compliment him too directly. You say, “You looked so hot on stage tonight” and he’s avoiding eye contact, pulling his hoodie strings tighter like, “Stop, I’m literally sweating.”

But when he flirts? Deadpan. “You gonna wear that lip gloss around me and expect to walk straight tomorrow?” Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just says it, then acts like you’re the problem.

Big on physical touch but doesn’t always realize it. His hand ends up resting on your thigh under the table or tracing slow circles on your back. He’s not even thinking about it, he just needs to feel you close.

Gets all pouty when he’s jealous, just subtly sulking, shoulder nudging you a little too hard, arms crossed. You ask what’s wrong, and he mutters, “That guy was laughing too hard at your joke, babe.”

He's surprisingly possessive in the most passive-aggressive way. Will take your phone, snap a picture of you kissing his cheek, and set it as your wallpaper. Doesn’t say a word about it.

Texts you: “Can’t focus.” You: “Why?” Him: “Remembered the way your thighs felt wrapped around my head.” Sends it in the middle of rehearsal and then ghosts you so you’re the one flustered now.

If he notices you’re upset, he goes straight into comfort mode. Wraps you in his hoodie, puts on your favorite playlist, doesn’t say much, just holds you trying to make you feel safe.

Genuinely struggles to be mean to you even during arguments. Gets all tense and frustrated but ends up rubbing your back like, “I don’t wanna fight, okay? Let’s just fix this.”

He adores when you baby him, even if he acts shy about it. Likes being in your lap, having his hair played with, called “pretty.” If you kiss his nose? He’s yours for life.

But when it’s his turn to take control? You’re in trouble. “No attitude tonight, yeah?” he’ll whisper, pinning your wrists with one hand.

Loves late-night cuddles where you both end up next to each other on the couch, the TV still playing in the background, your head on his shoulder, and his fingers just softly playing with yours.

When he’s really tired, he curls into you completely face buried in your neck, mumbling nonsense against your skin. You once heard him whisper “mine” between snores.

Falls asleep faster when you’re in bed with him. He won’t admit it, but on nights you’re apart, he clutches one of your shirts and keeps it under his pillow like a lifeline.

Will literally stop mid-task just to wrap his arms around you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder. Doesn’t even need a reason. Just needed a moment to feel you.

You wake up before him? Expect him to stay half-asleep but reach for you, blindly. Like his body notices you’re not there before his brain does. Pulls you back into bed without even opening his eyes.

His favorite thing? Watching you sleep. Not in a creepy way, he just lies there quietly, brushing your cheek, thinking about how lucky he is.

Carries a little Polaroid of you in his wallet. Tells people it’s “for luck,” but really? He just likes being able to look at you when he’s overwhelmed or tired. Grounds him.

NSFW

Talks in that soft, deep voice that melts you. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Just a little more, yeah?” while he’s absolutely ruining you.

The kind of guy who’ll rest his head in your lap like a prince being pampered, but then murmur, “Y’know, if you scoot up a little, I could eat you out like this.” Casually. Like he didn’t just break your brain with how casual he says it.

He’s a menace with voice memos. When he misses you, he’ll send the softest ones at night. Low, sleepy, slightly raspy. “Can’t sleep. Thinking about how good you sound when you moan my name.” Then just logs off till the morning.

Sweet, teasing, filthy. Will kiss every inch of your thighs, suck marks into them, murmur “mine” over and over like a prayer. He worships you but won’t let you come until he’s had his fun.

If you tease him too much? He’ll go dangerously quiet. Pulls you into his lap, holds you still, and just stares you down. “You’re real confident for someone who begged last time.” The switch up with him is crazy.

Lowkey he can get a bit mean during sex at least when he knows you can take it. “You said you could handle it,” he whispers, pounding into you harder, “so why are you crying already?”

Has a praise kink so bad. Moan his name and tell him he’s good and he’ll literally groan into your neck, hips grinding deeper like he can’t help it. “Say that again,” breathless. “Fuck, please.”

Acts shy in public but turns into a whole demon in bed (I hope you see what I'm doing here). “You really think I’m the innocent one?” he growls into your skin while dragging his nails down your back.

Obsessed with your reactions. The way your thighs tremble, the way your back arches, he’ll stop and stare just to burn it into his memory. “God, you’re perfect like this.”

Loves the way your voice shakes when you’re on the edge. Will whisper right against your ear: “You wanna come? Beg for it.” All while his hands work mercilessly between your legs.

You tell him you want it rough and he smiles, leans in close, and says, “Then don’t hold back your screams tonight, baby.” And he means it.

Once had you up against the wall, lips on your neck, voice rough in your ear. “I need to hear it, who do you belong to?” And when you finally gasp his name? He groaned like it broke him.

Will pull you into his lap during late-night studio sessions, bury his face in your neck, and lazily grind against you with a smirk. “M’too tired to fuck you properly. Wanna feel you like this first.”

But aftercare? Top tier. Runs you a bath, feeds you snacks, tucks you in with kisses to your forehead and a whispered, “You were amazing. You always are.”

If you ever use your safeword, he's immediately back in soft mode. “Hey-hey, look at me. You’re safe. We’re done, yeah?” He holds you close, soothing you until you’re okay again.

Divider by: @uzmacchiato

Kpop Demon Hunters Masterlist

[nyangsterz]

.☘︎ ݁˖ LITTLE STUDY BUDDY ── yang jungwon

SYPNOSIS. everyone warned jungwon about you—the campus slut with a reputation for wrecking hearts and hooking up with half the student body. still, jungwon, ever the responsible and soft-hearted boy he is decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. but he didn’t expect it to turn into a full-blown temptation.

when you show up late, all smirks and wandering hands, something in him snaps. the calm, sweet jungwon turns cold and biting, his patience unraveling fast. he's not just fighting your distractions—he's fighting the urge to put you in your place. because beneath that polite smile is someone who doesn't tolerate games…

and he's about to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.

PAIRING. non idol! yang jungwon x fem! reader

GENRES. smut!! (mdni), sorta public sex, nerdy jungwon x slutty reader, rough sex, dirty talk, jungwon is hella mean, degradation,a lot of name calling (whore, slut, etc.), jungwon is a yapper, reader is kinda shameless, blowjob, messy, hard dom jungwon, brat tamer jungwon lmk if i missed anything

WORD COUNT. 3.6k

WARNINGS. porn with little plot, unprotected sex (pls be safe yall!!), profanity, explicit sexual content, NOT PROOFREAD

AUTHORS NOTE. ── ★ ˙ฅᨐฅ ̟ !! hey yall!! so this is my first time posting any of my writings so im so sorry if i make any mistakes, english is also not my first language so...lmk if i fuck up. ANYWAYS, i had a lot of fun writing this and i have an idea for a part 2 if this does numbers. ENJOY!!

Jungwon should've known better.

The second you cornered him after class, batting your lashes and asking for “help” with your finals, every red flag in his head waved like hell. But against his better judgment, he agreed to tutor you. He was curious, maybe, or just bored enough to entertain the idea. He figured he could handle you.

You weren’t anything new to him. He’s heard the stories, hell, he’s listened to his friends brag about your mouth more times than he can count. Most of his friends had their own stories—nights tangled in your sheets, mornings forgotten. He didn’t judge you for it, not really.

But he sure as hell didn’t plan on being your next plaything either.

Now here he was, not even a full twenty-four hours later, sitting alone in a quiet, secluded corner of the library, waiting for you. He’d picked the spot hoping it would help you focus.

“Where the hell are they…?” he muttered, eyes flicking to his phone. 4:37. You were almost twenty minutes late. He was halfway through packing up his books when you finally strolled in—nonchalant, like you hadn’t wasted his time at all.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, shooting you a tight-lipped smile.

You didn’t apologize—just sat down with that same smug look you always wore, like you knew exactly what you were doing.

It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, and Jungwon already wanted to slam his head into the table. Nothing he explained seemed to stick. Were you even trying?

Your eyes glazed over every time he spoke, lips parted in that deliberately innocent way, and he was starting to realize—this wasn’t about studying at all.

“Look,” he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Are you even getting the idea at all?”

Then his eyes dropped. Your hand—way too close to his lap.

His jaw clenched. “Can you not put your hand there and focus on what I’m trying to teach?” he snapped, voice low and sharp. “Fuck…”

"Why? Don’t you like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with false innocence as your lips curled into a playful smile.

"Come on, Wonnie~ studying’s so boring, don’t you think?"

You leaned in, letting your body dip just enough to meet his gaze—close, intimate, daring.

"I could show you a much better time..." you whispered, your fingers brushing gently along his thigh, caressing slow and deliberate.

Jungwon's eyes narrowed as he gripped your wrist tightly, yanking your hand away from his lap with a harsh tug. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you stupid slut?” Jungwon snarled, his voice sharp and laced with pure contempt.

“I thought you actually wanted to study for once in your miserable life,” he spat, yanking your wrist away from his lap with a harsh grip. “Or was that just some pathetic excuse to get me alone and play your little seduction game—like the desperate whore you are?”

He shoved your hand aside like it disgusted him, his glare burning straight through you.

“Listen closely,” he hissed, voice low and cruel. “I’m not one of your brainless fuck toys you can throw yourself at. I have zero interest in stuffing my cock into your sloppy cunt—no matter how much you beg me for it.”

Every word was brutal, each one meant to slice through your pride like a knife.

Then he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes narrowing as he looked you over with icy disgust.

“So,” he said slowly, voice calm now—but no less threatening, “are you finally going to shut the fuck up and focus like a decent student? Or do I need to bend you over this table and spank the stupidity out of you until you learn how to behave?”

There was no room left for games. No teasing, no flirting—just a sharp line drawn in the heat between you.

You looked up at Jungwon, then down again—like you couldn’t decide whether to feel ashamed or just pretend to be. Finally, you turned your head away with a frustrated flick, as if his coldness had actually stung.

You knew what you looked like. You were pretty—hot, even. People could call you a slut, a tease, a brainless whore... and maybe some of it wasn’t so far off.

But no one, not even your worst enemies, could say you were ugly. And you’d long since mastered how to use that to your advantage.

Jungwon’s scowl faltered, just for a second, at the sight of your meek little act. The way your eyes welled up, how you glanced away like you were ashamed. But the softness didn’t last.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, spare me the performance,” he sneered. “You really think a pout and some fake tears are enough to convince me you’re anything more than a brainless little slut?”

His eyes dragged over your body slowly, deliberately—taking in every curve with a gaze that felt more dissecting than appreciative. “You’re not the first pretty face who’s tried to seduce me,” he muttered, voice low and cold, “and you sure as hell won’t be the last.”

He leaned back, arms crossed, his expression hard. “So, are you finally going to focus on the damn lesson? Or am I going to have to find a more... motivational way to make you behave?”

His eyebrow arched, the threat in his voice laced with something darker—something dangerous.

You scoffed, the meek little act slipping off like a mask. Your lips curled into a smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re different from the other guys, Wonnie,” you purred, voice low and sultry. “I like that.”

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with ease as your gaze raked over his body—slow, hungry, deliberate. Then your eyes met his, locked and daring, lips parted just slightly.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice dripping with playful defiance. “I’ll pay attention.”

Your long, decorated nails trailed down his chest, slow and teasing, your fingers drawing lazy patterns against the fabric of his shirt.

“So… what kind of motivation method did you have in mind?” you asked, wide-eyed and innocent in the most dangerous way.

Jungwon’s eyes darkened the moment you straddled his lap, your body pressed flush against his. His hands shot up, gripping your wrists firmly—tight enough to make you still, but not enough to hurt. His jaw clenched as he stared into your wide, unblinking eyes.

“Careful,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules to.”

His gaze flicked downward, watching your fingers dance along his chest, your decorated nails grazing over the fabric like you knew exactly what you were doing. He squeezed your wrists harder, pulling your hands away from him with a sharp tug, then leaned in—his lips brushing just beside your ear, his breath warm and heavy.

“You really want motivation?” he whispered, almost mockingly. “Because I can give it to you. I’ll bend you over this table and keep you there until you stop acting like a brat and start acting like a student.”

You could feel the tension vibrating off him—controlled, focused, intense. His voice was calm, but it carried weight. Promise. Threat.

“I don’t care how pretty you are. If you can’t sit still and learn, I’ll make sure the only thing you remember from this session is how it felt to be put in your place.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes locked with yours. There was no room left for games—only a challenge, one that made your pulse quicken.

With every harsh word that left Jungwon’s mouth, heat pooled low in your belly—warm, aching, impossible to ignore. You bit your lip, desperately holding back the soft moans threatening to slip out after each sentence. Your body shifted in his lap, restless and needy, reacting to his voice like it was a command carved straight into your skin.

Your breath quickened, shallow and shaky, as your eyes glazed over with a hazy mix of arousal and anticipation. You could barely meet his gaze, not from shame—but from how dizzying the tension had become.

“Wonnie~” you finally whimpered, your voice breathless and soaked in need, high and sweet like a plea.

Jungwon's grip on your wrists tightened as he felt you squirming in his lap, their breathy whimpers filling the air. He leaned back slightly, a wicked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he took in your flushed cheeks and clouded eyes. 

"Listen to you, getting all hot and bothered from me just talking dirty to you. You really are a pathetic slut, aren't you?" He taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.

Jungwon's hands slid up your arms, gripping their shoulders tightly as he pulled them flush against his chest. He could feel the swell of their ample breasts pressing against him, your hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric of your tank top. 

"Tell me, you brainless whore, is this what you want? To be manhandled and used like the fuck toy you are?" Jungwon's smirk grew wider as he felt your body trembling with anticipation. 

"Because I can give you exactly what you're craving. I can fuck you so hard, so deep, you'll be ruined for any other man. Is that what you need?" He growled, his hips grinding up slightly to press his hardening bulge against your core.

The moment you felt his bulge press against your core, a soft, involuntary moan slipped past your lips, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Your breath hitched, sharp and shaky, and your fingers dug into his shoulder—tight, almost clawing for something to hold onto.

“Please… Wonnie,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, barely more than a whimper.

You bit your lip hard as you ground your hips down against him, chasing even the smallest bit of friction. Every movement sent sparks through you, your body trembling with how badly you needed more. The tension was unbearable—thick, hot, and impossible to escape.

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, pleading—wordless, but loud with desire.

Jungwon let out a low, dark chuckle as he felt you grinding desperately against his hardening bulge, your needy moans filling his ears. 

"Please what, you brainless whore? Please fuck you stupid until you can't think straight?" He taunted, one hand sliding down to grab your ass roughly, squeezing the plump flesh.

With a sudden, sharp movement, Jungwon stood up, easily lifting you with him. He carried you over to a near empty group study room.

As he suddenly picked you up, you gasped and your arms instinctively went to hug his neck in shock. Your face buried in his neck. i giggled in between my desperate quiet moans.

Before you could react, he threw you down and bent them over the table, pressing your upper body down against the cool surface.

You gasped and moaned even louder as you flung your head to look at him from behind with an anticipating smile.

Jungwon's hand slid under your short short skirt, pushing your panties aside to expose your dripping slit. He ran a finger along their folds, feeling the slick heat coating his digit. 

You felt his fingers digging into you and moaned slightly "mmhh... won"

"Fuck, you're already so wet, you desperate whore. You really are gagging for my cock, aren't you?" He growled, pressing a finger inside your tight entrance.

Jungwon quickly undid his pants, freeing his large, veiny cock. It sprang out, slapping against your ass with a lewd thwack. The thick head was already drooling with pre-cum, the shaft pulsing and throbbing with need.

as you felt his hard big dick smacking your ass, your ass squirmed in anticipation and moaned

"Fuck won... Your so big for a nerd" i teased, gasping and giggling.

"Hmmm, yeah you like that? You slut." he growled as his hands found your ass, kneading it harshly. Without warning, Jungwon smacked your ass, a loud noise echoing through the room.

He moved his hands to gripped your hips tightly and thrust forward, burying his massive cock deep inside your soaked cunt with one brutal stroke.

You immediately moaned loudly, almost a scream. Your body tensing up and your eyes instinctively closing in pleasure

"Fuuuckkk..." you said as you felt your body slowly calming down slightly.

He groaned at the tight, wet heat engulfing his shaft, his hips slapping against your ass as he hilted inside them.

"Take it, you cock hungry slut. Fucking take my dick like the whore you are." Jungwon snarled, immediately setting a hard, fast pace as he began to pound into your needy hole.

You barely got used to it he immediate set a hard and fast pace and pounded harshly. You felt your own ass reddening over his hard thrusts.

A loud moan left your lips, you could feel your mind clouding in pleasure

"Yes yes yes" you repeatedly said, "Wonnie... please.. yess- fuck- feels so good, ur soo good" you said delirious, as if you were drunk on his cock.

Jungwon grunted as he felt your tight walls clenching and fluttering around his pistoning cock, your desperate moans and whimpers spurring him on.

He gripped their your hips harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pounded into you with brutal, animalistic fervor.

"That's right, take my fucking cock like the eager little cock sleeve you are. Your hungry cunt is gripping me so fucking tight." Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust that had you seeing stars. 

"You love this, don't you slut? Love having your greedy hole stretched out and filled by a real man's dick?"

your eyes going to the back of your head, as you moaned louder and louder in pleasure

"Yes won, I love your cock so much, I'm a slut wonnie, I'm ur slut" you said in a slight mumble. your cunt gripping impossibly more onto his cock.

He slid a hand up your back, gripping their hair and wrenching their head back as he leaned down to snarl in their ear. 

Your back arched further and a moan left your lips. You could feel your own release coming,

"Won im gonna cum, im cumming, please, feelsh sho good" You screamed loudly, as your eyes closed instinctively. Your face scrunching, a loud moan rose from your throat from every thrust he gave.

"Yeah, just like that. Scream for me, whore. Let everyone know who this cunt belongs to now. Let them hear what a desperate, cock-drunk slut you are for me." Jungwon's hips never faltered, slamming into aeri with enough force to rattle the table beneath them.

Jungwon's balls slapped obscenely against your clit with every thrust, the wet squelching and slapping sounds of their fucking filling the room.

The musky scent of sex and sweat permeated the air as Jungwon rutted into you like a man possessed, determined to ruin them for anyone else.

He could feel his release approaching, the telltale tingling building at the base of his spine. With a harsh grunt, he slammed into you one last time before burying himself to the hilt, his thick cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied his heavy load deep inside their spasming cunt.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to roll back as your mouth fell open in a breathless gasp. Cunt gripping and fluttering on his cock as you felt his cum filling your insides. You trembled as you felt your release coming over you and a loud moan escaped your mouth. The noise falling from your mouth, unrestrained and raw.

"Fuck, take my cum you brainless bitch. Fucking take every last drop like the cum dumpster you are." Jungwon groaned, his hips jerking and twitching as spurt after spurt of his hot seed painted your insides white.

Jungwon's chest heaved as he caught his breath, his softening cock still buried deep inside your dripping cunt.

Shivers racked through you as you slowly pulled yourself back together. Your body began to come down, the rush fading into a warm, hazy stillness.

He looked down at their disheveled form, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of them trembling and moaning through their intense orgasm.

"That's it, cum on my fucking cock like the desperate slut you are. Milk my dick with this greedy cunt." He growled, giving a few more shallow thrusts as your walls fluttered and clenched around him.

As you slowly recovered and slid off his cock, Jungwon grunted at the sudden emptiness. But his smirk only grew wider as he watched them eagerly grab his sensitive shaft, stroking and licking at the mix of their combined juices coating his skin.

You licked and stroke his cock as you moaned and whined on it, your eyes closed, basking in the taste of yourself on his softening cock.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he pulled their head back, forcing you to look up at him. "Look at you, so fucking eager to clean my cock like the dirty slut you are. You can't get enough, can you?" Jungwon taunted, his voice a low, dark rumble. A groan left his lips as he threw his head back in pleasure.

You took his cock and slapped it on your own cheeks, lulling your tongue, His head lowering down meeting your insatiable gaze and the mess you were underneath him.

"Is this what you wanted, you filthy cock sleeve? To have your face painted with the proof of what a dirty whore you are?"

A breathy giggle left your swollen lips, the feeling of your spit and your combined fluids sticking to your face making you giddy.

Jungwon's eyes flashed with cruel amusement as he watched aeri giggle and moan around his sensitive flesh, their tongue lolling out obscenely. 

"Such an obedient little cock warmer, so desperate to please" He purred, the dark promise in his words sending a shiver down aeri's spine.

You felt your cunt fluttering and gripping against nothing as you continued to put his hardening dick back in your mouth and sucking him off.

"Come on wonnie~ u have more right? cum on my face baby." you said as you stroke his cock and continued to deepthroat him

Jungwon's eyes darkened with lust and cruel amusement as he watched you eagerly deepthroating his sensitive cock, their throat convulsing around his thick shaft. He smirked at their teasing words, giving their hair a sharp tug in warning.

"Oh, you want me to cum on your slutty face, you brainless whore? Want me to mark you as my personal fuck toy in front of everyone?" Jungwon growled, his hips starting to piston forward as his cock began to harden and lengthen again inside your hot mouth.

He fucked your face with brutal, animalistic fervor, slamming his thick cock into your throat over and over. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room as Jungwon used your mouth like a cheap fleshlight.

You felt his hands gripping your hair impossibly harder and forcing you to swallow his thick cock. You gagged on his cock filling up your throat, restricting your airway. Your eyes rolling back as you tried to pull away from him, But he didn’t loosen his hold—his fingers still tangled tightly in your hair. Pressing you further down his length.

You slapped his thigh repeatedly as you could feel yourself drowning on his cock. With a groan he released your head, you threw yourself off him for a gasp of air and laughed breathlessly

"Fuck, ur so big for a nerd." You teased.

"Shut up." He growled lowly with a harsh grunt, gripping your hair tightly as he stroked his throbbing shaft. He aimed the flared head at yiur face, the angry red flesh pulsing and twitching as he neared his release.

"Open wide, you dirty slut. Stick out that whorish tongue and let me paint your pretty face with my cum." Jungwon snarled, his voice dripping with cruel, degrading lust.

You opened your mouth and closed your eyes anticipating for his cum to hit your face.

With a strangled groan, he erupted, thick ropes of hot, sticky seed erupting from his cock. Jungwon's cum splattered across your cheeks and tongue, the pearly essence dripping down your chin and neck as he marked you as his personal fuck toy.

You moaned at the feeling of his cum hitting your face. Jungwon loomed over your cum-splattered form, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

As his cum came to a stop, you opened your eyes and looked up at him as you wiped his cum with your finger and pushed it towards your mouth and sucked it off your finger and released it with a pop

"Mmm.. taste so good" you said, breathless and giggling.

He watched with a smug, satisfied smirk as you eagerly sucked his seed off their finger, your breathless giggles music to his ears.

"That's right, taste my cum. Get used it, cause you'll be having a lot more of it from now on." Jungwon said with a dark chuckle, his tone dripping with cruel promise.

He tucked himself back into his pants, not bothering to wipe the lingering remnants of their mixed essence from his softening cock. Jungwon knew he would be using your holes again and again, marking you inside and out as his personal fucktoy.

Leaning down, he gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his intense, piercing gaze. 

"You're mine now, understand? This slutty body belongs to me. I'll fuck you whenever and however I want, and you'll take it like the desperate whore you are. Got it?" Jungwon growled, his eyes flashed with possessive lust.

He released your chin with a sharp tug, standing up straight and towering over their smaller form. 

"Now, get dressed and meet me back at my dorm room in an hour. I'm not done breaking in my new fucktoy just yet." Jungwon ordered, turning to head for the door.

to be continued...?

AUTHORS NOTE. ── ★ ˙ฅᨐฅ ̟ !! hey so u made it to the end, congrats!! thank you for reading my shitty writing that i made at 3 in the morning lolz. im thinking of writing a part 2 to this, im also thinking of making a psycho heeseung x nurse reader au or enemies with benefit ni-ki or maybe something fluffy in the future. so if you would like to see that i could make a tag list. ANYWAYS thank you sm for reading, i hoped u enjoyed it , and got off lol. TOODLES!

COMMENTS, FEEDBACKS, NOTES, AND REBLOGS ARE ALL APPRECIATED

[izzih22]

Fic for another protective P plssssss. I mean she did that to Nai, how much more with Azzi. 😭

Not a Story

Note: I didn’t really know what to do here so I’m sorry it’s short but I hope y’all like it. Also I might just start clearing out my drafts and crap. So sorry this isn’t really complete but enjoy!!

The final buzzer echoed, and the crowd’s roar started to fade into background noise. Players began moving, some celebrating, others lingering in quiet frustration.

Azzi didn’t head to the handshake line right away. She saw her before anyone else did the forward from the opposing team, the one who’d been guarding her hard all game. There’d been some words exchanged mid-fourth quarter, a little extra contact. Nothing dirty. Just emotional. Tense. Competitive.

And Azzi wasn’t the type to let things linger if they didn’t have to.

So she walked toward her.

The other girl was already turning, like maybe she’d been hoping for the same conversation. They met near the logo, still in full view of the arena, but in their own little bubble.

“It got chippy,” the player started, her tone calm but sincere. “That one play, I wasn’t trying to go at your knees—”

“I know,” Azzi said quickly, shaking her head. “It felt bad in the moment. But I know. We’re good.”

They nodded at each other, a shared look of mutual respect passing between them. Athletes clearing the air. That was it.

But not to ESPN.

The boom mic was suddenly overhead. A sideline camera drifted in fast from the left, focusing in on their faces like it was waiting for a push or a shove or some soundbite to spin into narrative gold.

Azzi noticed it out of the corner of her eye.

Her posture shifted not guilty, just… uncomfortable. She took half a step back, trying to finish the conversation before it became a headline.

Paige noticed it from across the court.

The way Azzi’s shoulders tightened. The way her eyes darted up to the camera and then back to the player, trying not to seem bothered.

Paige moved instantly. No hesitation.

She cut across the hardwood like it was instinct. She’d spent years learning Azzi’s tells how she stood when she was trying to be polite, how her jaw twitched when something felt off.

And right now? Azzi didn’t want that camera in her face.

The moment Paige reached them, she slid into the space between Azzi and the lens.

Didn’t say a word at first. Just positioned herself so the shot was blocked completely. The ESPN cameraman adjusted so did Paige.

Subtle. Firm. Completely unbothered.

The camera moved again.

Paige followed.

Finally, the operator muttered something about “just trying to get a feel for the scene,” but Paige was already stepping forward.

“You’re not gonna find one,” she said, voice low and steady. “They’re just talking. That’s all.”

The operator tried again. “There was some heat earlier viewers wanna know if it carried over.”

“It didn’t,” Paige said flatly. “So you can stop trying to make it something it’s not.”

The player looked caught between amused and grateful. Azzi just let out a quiet sigh, touching Paige’s arm like a thank you she didn’t need to say aloud.

The camera finally pulled back.

Once they had their space again, Paige turned to Azzi.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t want that to turn into something for Twitter.”

“I know.” Paige reached up, brushed her knuckles down Azzi’s arm for just a second. A soft, grounding gesture. “That’s why I’m here.”

Azzi smiled, not wide but real. Full of affection that didn’t need to be dramatic or loud.

The opposing player gave them both a quick nod and walked away.

And Azzi leaned a little closer to Paige as they turned toward the tunnel, her voice soft.

“Thanks for having me.”

“Always,” Paige said, not missing a beat.

Because this wasn’t the first time someone tried to turn Azzi into a headline and as long as Paige was around, it wouldn’t be easy.

Not when she was the one standing in the way.

[cat-mermaid]

My boss today on a call: You're so good at multi-tasking! We got so much prepared ahead of time this week! You really give your full focus to everthing you do huh :)

"I try" I say humbly, smiling and nodding to myself while furiously lining up video game sprites on my computer screen, still durring work hours

So thats why he acted like he didn't have arms at first, i mentally murmur, eyes narrowing

"You solve that video game yet?" my boss asks in the same tone as the supportive "are ya winning son" dad probably did

"No, but-"

(theres like over 5 pairs of sneakers....)

(but just one pair of hoof shoes... in a box of stuff mixed up with other people's things...)

(theres a good chance none of these clothes on the hangers are even hers... they might just be here to make us think she has arms)

(Sans doesn't refer to Noelle and Dess and the "antlered girls", he only describes Noelle as having antlers, and makes a point of setting Dess apart from that description...)

"...I think I found somthing thats gonna make a lotta people mad"

boss: "Oh? Why?"

"cos all the signs are pointing towards a hidden character that has lots of fan art of her being a cool punk deer... uh... not. Not being a deer"

boss: "So what is she"

"Well I drew somthing, I can send it to you if you want"

Dess is the Goner Kid, she's a dragon version of Monster Kid, and this fucking game the whole time has been going:

so here we are :)

..............oh yeah! Almost forgot:

I posit that she'll manipulate objects with her tail but mostly her tongue, like Yoshi or like using the Rope Snake from Mother 3. I also suspect that in the grand scheme of things, Ralsei was created to take her place in this theorized re-creation of the prophecy that may be going on with the Fun Gang

I think people are right when they say that Ralsei only took off his hood because Susie told him too, he probably would have kept it on the whole time...

Interesting that almost perfectly round head peeking out of that hood huh...

I think that Ralsei was "created" to be identical in action to the Hero who's role he was given (disregard the "Prince from the Dark" thing for now) because of that he was walking around acting like he had no arms and using his scarf to manipulate things...

In the dark world I think she might have gained the ability to manipulate objects with magical hands, not unlike Unicorns in My little Pony

I truley do think the timeline we're on right now with the Fun Gang is the second one, the first one had 3 different heroes. In this second timeline, one has gone missing and the other two are languishing in boredom and feeling like they have no true purpose in life...

Its all there in the OST, if you listen to both Undertale and Deltarune its all spelled out. Its like that part in the chap 4 egg room talking about a drawing that had a painting made over it, the original adventure has been covered over but the music of the original course of fate still comes out

look how perfectly their "Ultimate form" costumes complement each other? How their two themes connect in battle? THE FACT THAT THEY EACH HAVE A GLOWING EYE ON THE OPPOSITE SIDES OF THEIR HEADS

They are the two heros who have had their grand destiny thwarted...

For good reason tho (Insert prophecy window THE FINAL TRAGEDY here)

Ask yourself, why did the Knight abduct Undyne at the end of chap 3? And take her to the shelter?

To protect her

.....from whatever is going to happen to Susie and Ralsei (Kris is probably gonna be fine but ain't gonna be happy about it when its all said and done). Noelle is getting sucked into the prophecy (if you weird route it), this couldn't have been part of the plan, not from the way Kris acts in the weird route. It might be dawning on whoever is involved that they might not be able to "brute force" fate into taking the new heros, so they need to take Undyne and Mettaton (he'll get nabbed chap 5 mark my words) and lock them up where fate can't follow

ANYWAYS (oh damn image limit) UH ALL THE YELLOW AND PINK IMAGERY REPRESENTS METTATON AND UNDYNE OK BYE

[enhani-ki]

bunnies in heat - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, explicit languages, etc.

ni-ki had been sleeping over a lot lately.

at first, he was sleeping over only on weekends then it turned to him coming over into weekdays too. that his clothes keeps ending up and piling in your drawers now.

it became completely normal to wake up with his arms around you too, seeing his shirts and pants on the floor, or the smell of his cologne lingering in your room.

today you were cuddling. his body was warm pressed against yours under the covers. his breath tickles your ear every time he spoke, and his lips kept brushing your skin, ni-ki doesn't even realize what he was doing.

he was all over you. arms tight around your waist, leg hooked between yours, chest against your back as if he was trying to fuse into you. he kisses your ear, jaw, neck, and your breath gets caught each time.

he sucks your sensitive spot below your ear, making your fingers curl and grip the blanket. he groans quietly when you move just a little and you feel him getting hard through his thin pajama pants.

you kissed him back for a little while but then—

"you're moving so much," you whispered breathlessly, half-complaining as you squirmed in his grip. "i– i can't breathe properly…"

"mmnh…" ni-ki hummed against your neck, his voice now low and sleepy. "sorry, baby..." he murmured, but the way he tightened his arms around you says otherwise. he wasn't sorry at all, not even a little. "i just missed you…"

"we've been together all day," you pointed out, shifting on his arms.

"yeah." he replied, kissing your cheek softly. "still missed you."

you rolled your eyes at him playfully but your chest was aching a little at how your boyfriend could make everything sound like a love confession.

quietly, out of nowhere, ni-ki asked,

"do you you wanna have sex with me?"

your eyes went wide, pushing him away just a little, your hands stayed on his shoulders. you blinked fast. "what—wha—WHAT?"

ni-ki groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, voice muffled against your skin. "ughh… fuck. that was so awkward. sorry, i didn't mean to say it like that."

then he blushed, chuckling weakly before looking at you again, "i said, do you wanna have se—"

quickly, your hand flew to cover his mouth. "baby, i heard you!" you whispered, totally horrified.

he paused, eyes twinkling with amusement and anticipation as he gently pulled your hand away. his fingers felt soft and warm around your wrist, he asked again, "so?" but when he saw the panic and unsureness in your face, his expression immediately softened, "…no?"

and before you could even answer, ni-ki smiled gently, relaxing his grip on you a little as if he already knows the answer. "you wanna take your time?"

your heart was pounding so hard that he could probably feel it against his chest. your cheeks turned red as you look away and finally, you nodded slowly.

he kissed your cheek, thumb stroking your waist in quiet reassurance. "okay," he whispered. "let's take our time."

your throat tightened. you wanted to say something—maybe apologize but the words stuck, so instead, you mumbled, "…are you horny?"

ni-ki blinked, surprised—then let out a soft laugh before pulling you closer, gently guiding your head to rest on his chest.

"don't worry about any of that, baby…"

"but—"

"i love you," he murmured quietly but firm, cutting through your spiraling thoughts like a thread being pulled tight. "don't stress, okay? i promise you, you're more than enough."

the two of you were quiet for a while. you just listened to his heartbeat as he held you close then eventually, ni-ki sat up and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

"i'm just gonna take a quick shower."

you watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of water running filling the room. but your head… it just wouldn't quiet down.

was he upset? disappointed?

...frustrated?

the thought made your stomach twist. you tried to brush it off, pacing around the room hoping it might help shake the feeling. however, the thoughts only got louder in your head.

the spiral started, making your head spin and making you upset at yourself too.

wait—is he... is he handling it in there?!

you heard the water shut off, giving you silence again. you bit your lip, hesitating but curiosity keeps getting the better of you. and quietly—so quietly—you pressed your ear to the bathroom door.

but right then, the door quickly opened the second you leaned in—

you almost fell forward but your boyfriend caught you. his hair is wet, he's got towel around his hips, there's water dripping down his chest, ni-ki raised an eyebrow at you. "…what are you doing?"

"i—i wasn't—!"

then he smirked after catching you red handed. "were you listening at the door?"

"no! i—i was just—!"

"ahh…" he interrupted, shaking his head in disbelief and amusement after the realization. "you were trying to hear if i was jerking off in your shower, huh?"

"fuck..." you cursed, closing your eyes and looked away, totally dying inside. "no…"

he leaned in, "tch. you're so nosy." brushing a strand of hair from your face. droplets splashing on your toes. then with a grin, he added "and i wouldn't jerk off."

you tilted your head, "huh? why not?"

"because i'd rather you jerk me off."

your jaw dropped and he just laughed again, pulling you in, telling you how cute you are when you panic.

then lately, he wasn't even wearing shirts to bed anymore.

some nights he was too lazy he just wear boxers that in the mornings you feel him pressed against your ass or thighs, hard and twitching through thin fabric.

you don't say anything but… it stuck in your head, your heart always race and your body becoming more curious.

what does it really looks like when he's turned on?

how big is it, really?

will he feel good just from being touched?

and ni-ki's all over you again, his bare chest against your back, face in your neck, breathing soft and sleepy. his hand were already resting on your waist under your shirt... you'd gotten so used to the way his crotch pressed against you at night—but tonight, you feel him getting harder again.

you turned slightly to face him, "you're hard again…"

your boyfriend let out a sleepy chuckle. "well, sorry. i love being this close to my girlfriend so much that it turns me on…"

you pouted into the pillow. "so you're just gonna sleep it away?"

he laughed softly and groaned into your neck. "babe, why are you so concerned about my dick?"

"i'm not! i mean—" you turned to look at him, flustered. "i'm concerned about you."

ni-ki opened one eye, "well, i'm not gonna die because of it, you know?"

you sighed heavily and kept thinking about it. he's right there. too close… and part of you just really wants to— "…can i touch it?"

his eyes opened and his sleepy expression vanished in an instant, "what?"

you met his gaze, more nervous now. "uhh, can i… touch it?"

"o– of course…"

you reached down carefully, hand sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, you felt ni-ki's whole body shuddered.

he let out a low, breathy moan and leaned in to start kissing you slow and needy. your touch had completely jolted him wide awake. "oh, fuck… baby…"

your fingers wrapped around him, eyes widening slightly. "it's big."

ni-ki smirked against your lips, his voice got deeper now. "hmm, really? it's not even that hard yet."

you didn't have time to reply, he took your hand, and before you could process it, he actually spit into your palm.

"riki—?!"

"shh, trust me." he laced his fingers with yours and wrapped your slicked-up hand around his length, groaning as he helped you stroke him.

his cock hardened so quickly it startled you. it got even bigger, practically pulsing in your grip that your one hand wasn't enough anymore.

you looked down. "it's… not fitting."

ni-ki laughed breathlessly. "it's okay, you're doing so good. ahm, fuck, that feels good."

"do you want to suck it too?"

your lips parted. "i– i don't know how…"

he bit his lip before he kissed your jaw, his breath felt hot on your skin, practically warming you too. "i'll teach you."

he shifted both of you on the bed, ni-ki leaned back against the headboard as you positioned yourself between his legs. his boxers were halfway down already, his cock flushed and glistened in the low light...

ni-ki trailed his thumb across your cheek down to your lips.

"you sure, baby?"

you hesitated, heart pounding as your eyes flicked between his face and what was between his thighs.

"you don't have to," he added softly, other hand brushing your hair back. "we can stop here—seriously."

"no, i really want to." you replied, making ni-ki smile proudly.

you stared at his cock slightly twitching in the air, its tip flushed red, already glistening with his pre-cum. you'd felt it under his boxers before but seeing it like this, in front of you...

it made your mouth dry.

you swallowed, moving your fingers before your brain could catch up. your wrapped one hand around the base then adding your second hand just above it.

not enough.

there was too much of him to hold. his cock is too thick, long, and the pre-cum spills from the tip was making your palms even more slippery.

you gave him a slow stroke, then another. your hands moved tentatively, sliding up and down in clumsy rhythm. the wet slick sounds between your palms made your face heat up and your pussy clench. so erotic.

n-ki groaned low, his hips twitching slightly just from your touches. "oh, baby…"

you looked up at him, face burning even more. "i really don't know what i'm doing."

he reached for you instantly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers. his touch was tender, ni-ki murmured. "you don't have to be good... just want you, you're already making me crazy here."

you stroked him again, faster this time, watching the way his face twisted in your grip. his tip leaked steadily, slick smearing across your knuckles.

"you can keep using both of your hands," ni-ki whispered shakily. "but… i think i'm gonna lose it the second you put your mouth on me."

"i wanna try."

your lips parted slowly as you leaned forward, tongue flicking out, licking to taste him first.

"shit—" he hissed, jaw clenched, head tipping back against the headboard. "y/n..."

you took him in a little deeper but your throat tightened immediately—you gagged, pulling back with a choked breath.

"it's okay. just go slow," he chuckled, panting as his hand gently rested at the back of your head. "don't push yourself too deep." though the deeper you went, the better it felt for ni-ki.

you nodded, trying again. your lips stretched wider, jaw already aching. spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you bobbed your head fast. you wrapped one hand around what couldn't fit. he was burning hot in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, twitching with every movement.

god, i'm probably so bad at this…

his fingers curled in your hair now. voice breaking as he whispered through his gritted teeth.

"you're doing so good," he groaned. "your mouth feels so good..."

you tried to breathe through your nose. your eyes stung with tears.

his cock throbbed against your throat. salty, warm, very new to taste but his moans were so fucking addictive too that you just couldn't stop even if you wanted too.

you adjusted your angle, trying to breathe—but your throat flexed without meaning to, swallowing around him.

ni-ki's eyes widened, choking on a moan.

"f–fuck—baby, that—what you just did—"

you blinked up at him confused, still messy and teary, holding him steady in your mouth.

you did it again. let your throat flex around him, tighten your lips, letting him feel just how snug you were inside.

his thighs tensed instantly, hand clenching on your hair tightly, "…shit, i'm close."

you swallowed again, a whimper caught in your throat as your lips slid down further, his cock twitched violently in response, suddenly getting even bigger. he gasped, "wait—baby, almost there—don't stop."

you started to pull back, overwhelmed—but his hand stayed at the back of your head desperately.

"don't pull away—please," he gasped. "let me—let me finish in your mouth—i can't hold it— y/n"

you nodded and started sucking harder, bobbing your head faster.

ni-ki came with a loud, broken moan, hips jerking uncontrollably as thick spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. you gagged again from the volume, the heat, the unfamiliar taste—it's so much—but you swallowed all of it, trying to keep up.

you were shaking too now. your jaw hurts, your hands were messy and slippery, and your eyes were wet and full with tears—but you didn't stop until he was done and empty.

ni-ki couldn't stop groaning, whispering your name as he brushed your hair out of your face with the most wrecked look you'd ever seen.

it's second period. your teacher kept talking about something — but you're not hearing none of it.

your mouth had been on him less than twelve hours ago and all ni-ki can think about is the way you'd looked at him then — all soft, nervous, and curious, like he was something you wanted to figure out.

you're sitting a few rows ahead of him. head is bowed low, playing with pen in hand, pretending to take notes,

he knows you're not listening either.

your shoulders are a little tense, lips kept parting every time your mind wander. he saw you smiling to yourself — shy, spaced-out, those little smiles makes his stomach tighten.

you must be thinking about it too.

you have to be.

ni-ki adjusts in his seat, subtly shifting his legs under the desk, feeling his pants feel tighter than they should. and it's not like he's that hard-hard... almost. it's hard enough to feel it. enough to make him want to sneak away, press his forehead to a locker, and groan while palming himself.

he's been like this for a week. every class. every time he looks at you.

you've been giving him blowjobs for a week now and the flashbacks hits like static electricity.

the sound of you choking just a little, the sight of your eyes, glassy and wet, you're hurting but still looking up at him.

the heat of your mouth, the press of your throat, the way your hands trembles slightly as you touch him.

you made him fall apart.

and now he can't stop thinking about you, how would you fall apart for him too.

ni-ki's fingers tighten around his pen. his jaw flexes slightly.

he shouldn't think about it here. oh he shouldn't picture the way you'd sound if he had his mouth between your thighs, kissing, making out with your pussy, licking, sucking on your clit until you couldn't even speak—

"riki," the teacher calls.

he jolts slightly.

"y– yes?"

"do you know what group you're assigned to?"

his mind went absolutely blank.

"…uh, no."

the whole class shook their heads. ni-ki swallowed, tries to find a safe answer but fails.

"listen carefully next time," the teacher warned. "you're on group two."

you glanced over your shoulder and met his eyes. your face goes red immediately.

you're both so, so bad at hiding it.

later, during break, you catch each other by the lockers. ni-ki leans close, arms crossed as he towers over you, trying to be casual — and failing completely.

"baby... you were zoning out the whole time," you murmured. "what's got you so distracted, huh?"

his eyes flick down to your lips just for a second.

"you," he said, honest as ever.

you blushed and smacked his arm. "shut up."

"…i keep thinking about last night," ni-ki whispered, making your heart dangerously stutters.

"yeah?" you breathed.

he nodded slowly, eyes dropping back to your mouth, your neck, your body. he swallowed thickly, quiet but you can now practically hear the words he's holding back.

"i wanna make you feel good too."

"w-what…?"

"i just… i think about it. a lot." he pouted, eyes soft but looked stormy at the same tome. "i can't be the only one who cums every night."

"not here, riki—!"

he grinned and bit his lip to stop himself. he held your wrist gently, seeking more connection, more of you.

the bell finally rang.

you step back reluctantly, adjusting your skirt and trying to breathe like you weren't just fantasizing about your boyfriend in a school hallway.

ni-ki stays leaning against the lockers, watching you walk away, hand slipping into his pocket. he pulls out your phone that you'd left at your desk this morning.

[cycle tracker] you're ovulating today!

"oh?"

a/n: random fic. just want to get some drafts out. this was supposed to be for a bad boy!ni-ki but it was too long so i had to shorten and throw away the plot TT i have so much in my drafts, i just might delete all of it. part two soon :p

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[formulafanfics13]

I just read sweet obsession and i just thought: what if a second part BUT it's any other driver pov where they get horny after hearing yns moans??

Sweet Obsession -(part 2) - OP81 🔥

Masterlist || Part 1

summary: after two hours of hearing you scream oscar's name like it's your religion, the rest of the grid is struggling.you didn't mean to put on a show. but now they're hard, flushed, and spiraling in their hotel rooms — each with their own filthy thoughts, furious hands, and furious jealousy. because no one expected quiet, perfect oscar to be the one who ruins you.

warnings: multiple POVs, voyeurism, mutual masturbation (m), groupchat chaos, explicit moaning overheard through hotel walls, dom!oscar, jealous!lando, possessive!charles, group sexual frustration, unspoken lust, filthy thoughts about reader, lowkey obsession themes, language, explicit content, hotel walls are not soundproof

MAX

He's trying to sleep. Truly. He's got a full race weekend ahead. He's done his stretches, his shower, his mint tea bullshit. He's even got white noise on. But it doesn't help.

Because through the fucking wall, he hears it.

"Oscar. Oh my god. Oscar." And then that high, wrecked sound.

He knows that sound. And he knows who that voice belongs to. He clenches the pillow over his face. Groans. His cock is already twitching. He isn't even angry. He's impressed. Little Oscar fucking Piastri is putting in work.

Max strokes himself slow. Eyes closed. Imagining your back arching, your thighs shaking. Oscar holding you down like it's nothing.

He cums when you cry out his name again. But it isn't his name you're saying. And that fucks him up more than anything.

CHARLES

He's naked in bed. One arm behind his head. The other gripping his dick so tight his knuckles are white. He's been listening for twenty minutes. 

Every moan, every gasp, every shattered cry of "Oscar, fuck, please-"

It's torture. Pure, sweet torture. He's imagining the bounce of your tits. The mess between your legs. The way Oscar must be looking at you.

He shouldn't want this. He's your friend. He knows you. He's seen you in a hoodie and slides. But now all he can see is your face when you cum.

He finishes with a grunt. Spilling into his hand. Whispers, "Putain de merde," and throws the sheets off.

Still hard. Still ruined.

LANDO

He's pacing. Fully clothed. Fully unwell. He's been rock hard for an hour and a half. He told himself it was funny at first. He even joked in the groupchat.

But now?

Now he's pissed. Not at Oscar. At himself. For never making you sound like that. He's heard you moan before. But never like that. Never like your soul's being ripped out.

He fists his cock in the bathroom. Furious. Jealous. Imagining you on Oscar's cock. Screaming. Begging.

He finishes fast. Fast and angry. Then stares in the mirror. Whispers, "Fuck. I want her."

GEORGE

He's laying on his stomach, pillow over his head, hips grinding into the mattress. He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.

But when you cry "yes, yes, please, fuck, just like that," it's over.

He thrusts into the mattress like a teenager. Desperate. Frantic. His hand's between his legs in seconds. Stroking quick. Mouth open. He pictures you riding Oscar. Eyes rolled back. Hair a mess. He finishes with a muffled moan.

The wall thuds again. He actually whimpers.

OSCAR - Back in the room,

He sees the messages. The missed calls. The chaos in the groupchat. He doesn't care.

You're face-down in the pillows, body still trembling, slick dripping down your thighs. He leans down, bites your shoulder. "They can all hear," he whispers. "And not one of them gets to have you."

You groan. Barely conscious.

He grins. "Round six?"

[alex51324]

Additional reminder: If you took in all that, and you still kind of secretly think that being a subsistence farmer would be in some nebulous way better than what you're doing now, chances are that what you are longing for is un-alienated labor.

According to Marx, a worker is alienated from their labor when they, "cannot decide on their own productive activities, nor can they use or own the value of what they produce." In other words, you aren't deciding what to do, or when or how to do it.

Marx, as you probably know, went on to focus more on the "value of what they produce" aspect, with the idea that the central problem of our society is that the vast majority of people work for someone--a boss, a capitalist--who scrapes off most of the value produced by their labor as profit.

But if you're looking at your own specific life--rather than the whole shape of society--the cannot decide on their own productive activities part is probably the main thing that's eating at you. That, and the increasingly abstract nature of labor today, where a lot of jobs do not have a tangible or observable result, or not one that is in any way satisfying.

So, on an individual level, you can look for ways--other than turning to subsistence farming--to get some of what you're missing. Try thinking about jobs you could potentially do/be qualified for, in the real world, in those terms: what would give you more autonomy/power to make decisions about, at least, how you accomplish your job tasks? What could you do to to get some direct experience of the effects of your work? A job that meets at least some of these needs, some of the time, might feel less draining than your current one, even if it's technically more or harder work.

Or you can conclude that your work for pay is just not going to be how you meet your needs for autonomy and meaning. Aim for a work situation that you can compartmentalize, put your time in, and finish for the day or week with time and energy left to pursue autonomy and meaning in hobbies, volunteer work, activism, community-building, whatever.

Obviously, none of these options are going to be as good as if you could just not live in a society where alienated labor is the norm (but still have at least the same level of material comfort/security that you do now). But that's not a choice we get to make, as individuals.

HALT!✋😐

did you remember to express gratitude for not having to subsistence farm today?

[m-robinavitch]

Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, soft dom!Robby, p in v sex, orgasm denial

Summary: Trying to shower before work but Robby has other ideas

“Michael-“ you were whining into the feeling of his teeth and lips just grazing over your neck because he knew it would make you whine for him, “I’m gonna be late.” You were technically already late. Exhausted after last night, you didn’t exactly clean up afterwards so you needed to shower before you left Robby’s. But he also needed to shower and innocently slipped in to join you under the hot steamy water at first. Hot and steamy it was, but now for an entirely different reason.

“Yeah?” He asked, not caring about your words much, pulling your back flush against his chest with one hand holding your jaw to tilt at a slight angle so he can nip and kiss easily- the other hand gripping at your own chest, soapy and easily gliding over your perked nipples- scratching just lightly to hear your sighs. “Is your boss gonna be a jerk about it?”

“He can- fuck, he can be such an asshole,” you nod- moaning slightly while pushing your ass into his hips to try and entice him for a bit more stimulation, “but he’s kinda cute, so it makes it worth it.” He chuckled at your words, now biting the lobe of your ear while the hand that was teasing your breasts slid down your body. He was more than half hard, woke up that way because you move so fucking much in your sleep that you had been rubbing against him all night. Just enough to cause an aching feeling but not enough for a release.

“Doesn’t sound like you make it easy for him,” you sigh when his fingers finally breached the top of your pussy- slowly starting to rub your clit with scarcely enough pressure to make the ache really go away, “being late, lusting after him on the job- maybe you stress him out?” Robby pushes his hips into your ass and slides his thick cock between your thigh- teasing through the crease of your wet folds to help the throbbing ache dissipate for a moment while he rubs slow circles on your clit with calloused fingers.

“Can’t- fuck, can’t help it-“ the feeling of his heavy cock gliding between your wet lower lips is too much- you wish he’d just slip inside you but, fuck it was so good at the same time. “Looks so good when he’s mad.” Wasn’t a lie- Robby’s voice when mad was deep and rough, akin to a fucking growl and you hated how even when he yelling at you and Langdon for poaching patients from the urgent care clinic across the street- you got wet. You’d bite your lip as he crossed his arms, or when he’d pull off his glasses in frustration. It was your fault and in those moments you accept whatever punishments he decided for you. And he’s doling out a punishment now, fingers working achingly slow against your wet pussy and fucking laughing as you whimper. You’re squeezing your thighs together as much as you could, trying to stop the pressure from his fingers but it just makes it’s so much better as he fucks the space between your legs, wetness from the shower and your own body mixing to help the slide. Every drag of his cock- each back and forth motion he made would have you sigh and whine because you swear you feel him at your entrance a little more each time. If you could just angle your hips- he’d slide in perfectly. It would feel so good and you’re already fucking late- there was no reason to hurry now.

“I knew you did it on purpose,” he groaned, the hand that was holding your jaw lowered and began to pinch and pull your nipples, pulling away for a moment to slap at your breast before turning to push you against the cold tile wall. The contrasting feeling biting into your skin, ice cold tile pebbling your nipples and fire along your back from Robby’s chest. “Love to piss me off on purpose. Is that what gets you off sweetheart?” Fuck- so he wasn’t going to let it go. You had teased Robby within an inch of his life yesterday. You were off from work and bored and missed him so much. But that was besides the point. You forgot to set an alarm last night amidst Robby fucking you into the mattress- so you woke up and realized you had 10 minutes to get ready. It was not nearly enough time. He knew that. That’s why he’s here now- rutting into the space between your thighs and groaning when you try to close them because it’s just adding to the tightness and pleasure. “I asked you a fucking question angel.” He notched himself at your entrance- teasing the hole while he waited.

“Y-yes, fuck I like getting you ma-” you were cut off with a gasp, he gave you no time to adjust. Robby slammed into you so hard you’re sure the air from your lungs was pushed out due to the force of it. You couldn’t breathe and there was nowhere to go besides into the tiles as he started at a brutal pace. One of his strong arms comes around your waist so he can keep you still between him and the wall while he fucks into you. He doesn’t make any noise besides grunts and the occasional ‘fuck’ while he shoves his cock up into you. The water was hot, the steam rising in the air and it choked you more as you felt yourself be rearranged by him. The pressure and force was too much- and Robby was getting annoyed by having to bend a little to get his dick inside your cunt so the arm around your waist pulled tighter as he straightened out. You were barely on the tips of your toes- but in reality you were mostly being held up by Robby and his relentless pace while he fucked you. You felt your walls flutter and spasm around his thick cock while he kept dragging himself in and out of you. But with a harsh slap to your ass he spoke-

“No one said you can cum, you’re not fucking cumming yet. You need to ask me first sweetheart.” If you could fucking ask you would- but he was so deep and every thrust shoved you into the tiles that the pressure on the top of your pussy just affected your clit ever so slightly. It was so much. It was so good that you tried to claw at the walls for something to hang on to because your thighs started to shake from the force of him inside you.

“Please- baby please I need to cum. Let me- fuck let me fucking cum-” he laughed- Robby fucking laughed at your words and he felt himself start to pull at the string deep inside of his gut. He was close and one disastrous clenching of your tight pussy around him was enough to push him over the edge. He came with a growl- something low and deep and painful almost while he spilled deep inside you and released the hold he had around your waist so you were fully touching the tiles under your feet now. You were dazed- breathing heavy and almost seeing stars from the heat of the steamy water and embers of the denied orgasm smoldering in your gut. You whimpered- fucking whined because Robby’s hand dipped down to collect him dripping from down your thigh and shove back inside you with a kiss to your temple.

“You came enough last night- maybe later.” What. Oh- he’s being mean. “And don’t try to use the shower head either- we’re gonna be late angel.” An endearing slap to your ass and he’s out the shower- leaving you breathless and needy. Oh okay- fine. He’s playing a dangerous game. He will be dealt with today- he can’t hide the red face he gets no matter how hard he tries. Good.