#but. its gonna be sick as fuck if i can pull it off

[swampstew-stories]

Period Pains and Care

Summary: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Killer, and Kid ranked by how they would handle themselves while you have your period. Implied established relationship♡

Warnings: none!

The worst actually. Not on purpose but Luffy's lack of awareness or self-restraint makes it difficult to appreciate his efforts. Not to mention he eats your snacks. You'd think with Nami and Robin on board he'd have some idea of what you're dealing with. Nope, you have to explain it again, it'll stick this time but it comes with another round of curious/invasive questions.

All your period comfort foods? Gone. The replacements? Also gone. You're lucky if there's a crumb of your favorite snack left over. Thankfully for everyone involved, his crew lends him a hand to make sure you're (eventually) satiated with alternatives and don't go on a murder spree during your cravings. On the flip side, Luffy abuses his power as Captain to have Sanji bring you both all the food when the kitchen is finally restocked. Good luck and bite him back if you have to!

His saving grace is using Gear 2 to cuddle and keep you warm. Giving you heated massages, foot and belly rubs until you're purring like a kitten. Unfortunately, he can only do the same thing for so long before growing bored. He needs a lot of intermittent breaks.

Has no tact, will ask you uncomfortable questions about your "thing going on" or your "comma" because he's so very curious and maybe also looking for ways to "fix you." Once he finds out about period poops, its over for you - there will be hourly check-ins. He'll make sure you're well stocked up on absorption products so there's that (also say thank you Nami, Robin and Franky)!

Zoro is shockingly adaptable but I guess if you spend enough time with one girl for two years - and also live with 2 full time - you're gonna learn a thing or two about having a period. Also, surprisingly reliable at getting you what you need, so long as you don't mind 2 hours to 2 business days to get it. Look he's trying ok?!

Be careful with what you say though. If you joke about cutting your uterus out, he'll take you at face value and have his blades ready. No one is a better slice master than he! Why is Chopper having a heart attack? BRB gotta tend to the younger bro.

Is not phased by your bodily changes or anything you might perceive to be "gross." Bodies are natural and they're just doing what they're meant to do, and for what it's worth he's trying to say things that will make you feel better but they don't always land. This comes from a guy who showers maybe twice a week so take the compliments as you will. He means them with his whole heart!

Out of all the guys, he's the only one who will respect your craving habits in a supportive way. That's to say he'll give you everything you want, but he knows when to cut you off before you make yourself sick. He also has a (terrifying) gift of knowing when your body is flushing itself out and he'll be right at your side with a tampon or pad in his hand at the ready. "I'm very in sync with you."

Ranks third because he's so fucking logical and doctorly. The kind of doctor that expects his medical advice and prognosis to outweigh your personal experience/feelings. Has Law ever experienced intense cramping and a headache while gushing a pint of blood and also pulled a full day's shift? No! "Doctoring" immediately invalid. Unless he gives you paid time off in which case his license is once again formally recognized.

On the OTHER hand, he will always have a colorful variety of options for you to take care of your personal business. He buys all biodegradable products, recyclable ones too! He also offers the best choices in birth control for you. Gynecology wasn't his specialty but taking care of his crew is so he studies and gets his license on the downlow.

Is VERY particular about his time spent and frankly, cuddling in bed isn't something he's entirely excited about. Sure he can do it with Bepo but that's like sleeping with a teddy bear you've had your whole life. Another person is different, especially one that needs his undivided attention and comfort. He'll give it and he won't complain about it, but he's not familiar with it and might be awkward at it for a time. Once he figures out what works best for you and let's himself relax around you, he's got the cuddling and rubbing your belly/lower back down to an exact science.

Questionable palate offerings when he first experiences your cravings. You had to teach him what's what when it comes to comfort eating and nutritional eating when you're in pain and your brain feels a bit scrambled from existing. Ikkaku had tried in the past to broaden the snack closet but it never stuck. With you, Law suddenly remembers to get things outside of his own personal preferences and comforts. It's comfort food for the BEPERIODED, LAW.

It's entirely because he's a chef and a well-groomed cutie that he ranks this highly. Honestly it was neck and neck between him and Law. His resume in the kitchen makes you forget about his perviness and near-infantilization of you.

You'll never have a craving unsatisfied because Sanji will go to the ends of the Earth to curb your hunger. The One Piece and All Blue can wait, his darling needs a rich, velvety chocolate mousse two minutes ago! He absolutely spoils you which may lead to overstuffing you until you feel worse than how the cramps made you feel.

Sanji waits on you hand and foot during your period. Practically carries you from point A to point B if you so wish. It might get annoying after a while if you don't like a hot blonde popping in your face every 10 minutes to offer you something you knew you needed but didn't know you needed right that second and you're kind of annoyed that he got it before you could even vocalize your own needs! Does that happen to anyone else or...? If you're into that pampered lifestyle, Sanji is the guy for you.

He wasn't around women a lot but living with Robin and Nami he did learn about products used and comfort items sought out, which he gives you in abundance. Sanji's weakness - period boobies. The slight swell has him a blubbering mess and he will always try to sneak a peek. He may or may not be able to smell your pheromones - its unclear but he is definitely sniffing you from time to time.

The clear winner out of the others its not even a joke. Is the trifecta of caring, supportive, and intuitive. The Period Manager™ everyone else should go back to their ship. No I am not biased.

Killer is the Chef of Carbo-loading but he knows his way around the kitchen and can make anything you desire at any given time. Desserts aren't his strongest suit but its the effort that makes it taste all the sweeter. You will never be without chocolate, praise be.

You've seen him so you know he knows muscles. Yours will become putty in his hands as he gently massages your aching body. With the help of low dose pain killers, Killer will slay your pain one sore muscle at a time.

Killer is so intuitive that he knows you have your period before you. Has your cubby on the bathroom countertop that includes: pads, tampons, flow-cup, aspirin, fuzzy socks, eye mask, and bottled juice. Your robe is hanging behind the door. He loves you so much.

Haha bitch you though. Kid is the true winner. Killer was the favored winner but you might have forgotten this is me we're talking about and Kid has never done anything wrong in his life ever. I support all his rights and wrongs, and I cheerlead at every speck of effort he puts in.

Where everyone else had mentors or positive authority figures to bond with, Kid had Killer - and Killer tried his fucking best. But not even someone as amazing as Killer can be a single mom and raise a mentally stable, well functioning person in society in a corrupted, gang-ruled regime. HOWEVER - Killer did teach Kid how to treat his period-having partner during their woes and Kid's success is Killer's pride and joy.

Like Luffy, Kid will definitely swipe your snacks and food because he's a greedy, greedy glutton. Prove you can bark back at him to stand your ground and he'll yield to you with a scoff and a pout. He doesn't even LIKE your snacks, he claims🙄 He'll make sure you have enough to satisfy your craving and then have a month supply in the hull of the ship just in case. This is where he'll sneak a few for himself without your notice.

Being the King of Treating Himself, Kid will generously make you things to comfort you. A weighted, heat-controlled blanket; a vibrating teddy bear that hugs your belly; a snack organizer to keep your preferences nearby; a personal cold/hot water cooler; pretty things to make you smile; dirty things to excite you for when its over; the gifts are boundless. So are the period products that he basically just steals from the other women in the crew.

“Captain you better reimburse me for those heavy flow tampons!!”

“I’m busy Quincy. Go bitch to the piggy bank (Wire) about it!!!”

“KILLER STOP THAT MAN!”

In his line of work, he's used to nitty gritty and things better left to the imagination. Also a bit grimy himself on occasion. That said, nothing your body does will ever disgust him. He rolls with whatever you throw at him. Bloodied bedsheets? He'll gently toss you and the sheets in the tub. He'll help clean out your soiled clothes. Buy or steal whatever you need to ease your comfort. Embarrassed by the way you feel or look? He'll give you a reassuring kiss on the cheek and say, "Eh, I've seen/heard/smelled worse."

Originally posted - soon to be archived from main :)

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Can You Give It All to Me

Roman Roy x Assistant!Reader

Summary: Roman humping your leg like a dog. Because he is one.

CW: sorta power play(?), needy!Roman, tease!reader, not-so-dry humping, degradation, praise kink, tit play, mommy kink, cum swallowing, Roman’s famous intimacy issues, some biting, situationship because duh

a/n: ah! I haven’t even seen one full episode of Succession, but I am obsessed with Roman and could not wait to write for this sick freak any longer :) but the assistant x roman just makes sense in my mind even if it’s not that relevant to the story

title track 🎶🧎🏻

~~~

You sat on the edge of the mattress in the fine hotel room you had for the night. Designer dress draping perfectly down your figure. Beautifully showing off your legs and the designer heels to match. Crossed to hide away from his peering eyes.

And directly in front of you was Roman. Leaned back on his spread legs, knees digging into the carpet. Tie loosely slung around his neck and buttons on his shirt undone. Suit jacket hanging around his elbows. Slacks unbuttoned and unzipped. Bulge trying its hardest to free itself from its confines. His head was arched back as he looked up at you. Chest heaving with each desperate breath he took.

You smirked at him. Cockiness clear on your brow. Uncrossing your legs and leaning back to rest on your stretched out arms, palms pressed into the soft duvet. Revealing the slit that traced all the way up to your now exposed core. No panties. The entire night. Confirming Roman’s earlier suspension when you had bent over and there had been no sign of a pantyline. His tongue wetted his bottom lip as he stared at your cunt. Shadowed by the dress, yet still noticeably glistening.

“Come on,” Roman begged, “My cock is gonna blow a fucking gasket if I don’t get— something soon.”

Even when he was this desperate he was still mouthy. Always a complainer. You were driving him insane. Being this close to you, yet not being allowed to touch you. It was ridiculous.

“Maybe if you had behaved tonight,” you chastised with a click of your tongue.

And it was not that he had particularly misbehaved, just kinda made a fool of himself in front of some potential share holders when he said something about fucking you raw. Typical Roman fashion. His words coming out before he even had time to really realize what he was saying.

“Fuck,” Roman groaned, rolling his head around his shoulders, “Didn’t know it was a crime to brag about how good of a pussy you’ve got.”

“It is when I’m your assistant,” you teased.

Roman’s hand pulled his tie the rest of the way off, throwing it into the floor with a hint of attitude. Hooded eyes glaring at you. Shoulders sagging, arms draped at his sides. His suit jacket slipping the rest of the way off.

You were having a silent stare down. Almost challenging one another. Roman did like to pretend he was the one in charge. Even when you had him on his hands and knees begging for you.

You gestured with your pointer finger. Curling it towards yourself.

Roman crawled over to you. Straddling your leg, knees spread so that his cock was pressed against the front of your ankle. Hands fumbling as they released his member from its confines. Fiddling with his fly so that the zipper did not pinch his now free cock. You admired him from above. Tip swollen and already leaking precum. Thick with a heavy vein running along the underside. His hands cupped around your leg, fingers sinking in wherever was softest. His chin rested right above your knee on your thigh. Big, hazel eyes pleading with you.

“What do you want, sweet boy?”

He rested his cheek on your skin. Puppy dog eyes fluttering up at you. You ran a hand through his hair, leading to cupping his cheek. Scoffing at your glance, “I’m not a-a dog.”

“Really? Because…” you pushed your leg further against his erection causing his hips to roll against your skin searching for more friction, “… you’re humping me like I’m a bitch in heat and you’re some stupid mutt.”

You pulled your leg back a little, eliciting a loud whine from him. His body instinctively chasing after the feeling, wrapping himself tightly around your limb. Eyes squinting shut as he rested his forehead against your knee. His hot breath fanning down the front of your skin.

“Look at me, Romey,” your voice was low.

He looked up at you, eyes glossy and bloodshot. Sweat beaming along his forehead. Hair, previously perfectly put together by gel, now disheveled and messy.

“Go ahead,” you gestured with your hand.

Roman’s eyes lit up. Beginning to press himself to his feet when you stopped him, “Tsk. Not up here. On my leg.”

His eyebrows contorted. Trying not to act angry, but that vein on his forehead gave him away. The way his jaw flexed as he swallowed hard. Opening his mouth in protest until you tilted your head.

“This is messed up,” Roman sighed with a hint of joking.

“I can leave if that’ll—“

“Fuck no!” Roman rolled his hips against your leg once more. His ‘no’ coming out more broken than before. Beginning a slow drag of his cock against you. Bead of precum spreading along with him. Grunting as he tried to find what felt best. You scratched your nails along his scalp, encouraging him silently.

Roman’s perfectly manicured nails scratched at your skin. His mouth hung open as he finally found what worked best. Completely flush against you, balls and all. The underside of his cock curved up and down your leg. Pulsing and hot. Moaning under his breath with each movement.

And he was so sexy like this. Curled up, practically praying at your feet. Worshipping you like the goddess you are. Ruler of his world.

His brows tightly knitted together. Slack jawed as he continued grinding into your leg. Unable to fight the wicked grin that curled along your face.

“Look at you,” you chastised, “Such a sicko. Fucking yourself on me like this.”

Roman’s eyes shined up at you. Eyebrows slightly upturned as his lip pushed out. Pouting from pure pleasure. Loving your insinuated disgust of him. Panting as he pressed a chaste kiss to your thigh. More intimate than he normally showed you like this.

“Awe. Do you like when I talk you through it? Who’s my good boy?”

His lip quivered. Breath coming out broken and shaky. Nodding as he squinted his eyes shut. A fleeting whimper forcing its way out of his empty lungs.

You tilted your head, “Use your big boy words.”

Roman bared his teeth for a moment. Fighting his own ego. Refusing to meet your eyes again as he huffed out his nose. Your fingers tangled through his locks. Forcing his head back.

���Speak.”

“I-I am,” he stumbled. Voice meek and unsure. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Let me hear you.”

“It’s me! I am,” Roman half shouted. More confident and sure of himself. Bloodshot eyes meeting yours. Pupils engulfing his irises. Jaw flexing when he swallowed down his fear of rejection.

You smiled, hand caressing his face, “Yes you are.”

He shuttered. Cock jumping and leaking more. He began quickening his thrusts against you, mouthing barely audible words into your skin. Bottom lip catching as he open mouth kissed every inch he could reach. Tongue coming out to lick a stripe up you.

Every inch of your body was growing hot. You knew Roman would not last long like this. He was always so easy to blow his load. So you decided to make it even worse for him. Sliding your straps off your shoulders, catching his eye. Slowly, sensually removing them and flipping the top of your dress down. Revealing your bare breasts for him.

Roman sighed. Eyes glued to your chest. Watching the way your tits bounced with each thrust of his hips. His balls tightened at the sight. His tongue glazed over his teeth, eyebrows contorting as he drooled over you.

“I want to suck them,” Roman blurted. Darting desperate eyes up to yours before repositioning back to your chest. Hips never ceasing.

“You do?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Please… mommy,” he finally said. Whining as his nails sunk into your flesh. Holding himself tight to your leg. It made your chest burn and heart thump.

You leaned forward, awkwardly forcing your breasts in his reach. Roman’s breath caught in his throat. Brows jumping, knowing if he got greedy you would pull away and leave him to fuck himself on the floor.

“You have been so good for me,” you cooed. Fingers dancing along his jawline, arching his gaze up to your eyes again. Silently staring. Almost too afraid to speak. Simply huffing and whining as he fucked himself on your leg.

You pressed a kiss on the top of his head. Roman’s eyes rolled into the back of his head at the feeling of your chest across his face. Kissing you gently, testing the waters. Not daring take your nipple between his lips yet.

“Go on,” you whispered.

Roman licked along your mound. Circling your nipple before taking it into his mouth. Cheeks hallowing with how hard he sucked. Sure to leave a purple mark in his path. He grumbled and whimpered into your chest. Cock swelling and nearing its end.

His hips rutted. Loosing his consistent rhythm for a moment as he moaned into you. You knew the familiar noise. Smiling when he shifted to your other nipple. Kissing it more than sucking. His mind was going hazy from pleasure. Drunk on you.

“ ‘m gonna cum,” he spoke with your skin between his lips, “Lemme cum inside you. Please…”

Roman had always been given everything he could ever want his entire life. Money was no problem for the Roy family. So when the chance arose for you to withhold from him, you could not pass it up.

“Cum on my leg. Like the filthy dog you are,” you gritted, straightening your back and taking away your breasts from him.

“But, mommy—“

“Don’t back talk me,” you quipped.

Roman sighed loudly. Looking to the side for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek so that he did not say anything else to upset you. Angry that you had this power over him.

“Okay,” he whimpered, “Ye—Yes—“

His teeth sank into the top of your leg. Canines leaving marks in their wake. Focusing on the way the rim of his tip would grind and catch on your leg. How tight his balls were, ready to blow their load deep inside your womb. All his could do was imagine it for now.

“Goddammit,” Roman cursed under his breath as his teeth ground together. Brows pinching the skin between them. Whining and groaning as he rested his cheek on your thigh once more. Longing for the warmth of your walls. His imagination could never even get close to that feeling.

“I’m gonna cum,” Roman repeated louder. Shifting so that his open mouth was pressed into your skin. Panting as he twitched. Shooting ropes of cum all over your leg. Thick and white. Pooling some on the top of your shoe. Exhaling with moans laced through them.

Roman rested his forehead against your knee. Eyes forced shut. Trying his hardest to catch his breath. Cock sensitive and a little cold now that it was covered in his seed. His hand grabbed it by the base and rubbed it a few final times up and down your leg. Coating it further. Loving the electricity that shot through him when the vein would pinch. You tapped his chin, urging him to look up at you. Disheveled and sweating. So very sexy.

You pinched his cheeks between tight fingers. Filling the gaps between his bones with scratching nails, “Now fucking clean it up.”

Roman panted, nodding without thinking. Trying to rise up before you snapped your fingers. Causing him to heel. Confusion lighting behind his eyes.

“Use your mouth.”

He locked his jaw together. Upper lip twitching, vein on his forehead bulging more than ever. Having a moment of loathing for you. That was until your expression softened. Head falling softly to the side as you fought off a giggle. This was his favorite part of the game. Yes, cumming on you was physically the best. But there was something about the way you would get giddy at the end of this. Every single time.

And he loved it. Not like he would ever admit that. But he did. The way your face flushed and you bit your lip. It made his chest swell. Wanting to make you happy forever. Do anything you wanted. Even if he pretended this was all for his benefit, it was always to please you.

“Yes, ma’am,” his sarcastic tone returned. Taking his place on his hands and knees, nose tracing down your leg. Tongue lapping up his own release. Cascading down to lick up what had gotten onto your far too expensive shoes. Straining so that his eyes were looking up to you the entire time. Even if he could not see you, he knew you could see him doing it.

Sitting back and looking up at you. Lips and chin glistening. One brow arched higher than the other. His own cockiness returning. Knowing this was a job well done.

You patted the mattress beside you, “Come here.”

Roman joined you, one hand splaying across your thigh as he looked at you. Finally eye level with you. Corner of his mouth curving upward as he really took in your face. Your beautiful, stunning face.

You quickly captured his lips in yours. Licking into his mouth to get the remnants of his own taste. Loving the way his salty cum filled your senses. Humming in satisfaction as you kissed him.

It was not too often you kissed like this. Usually reserved for other body parts. Not lips on lips. It was too intimate for Roman. Like it made you a couple or something. Ew.

But this was different. It almost made him… happy? Like this was what he was supposed to be doing. His hand came up to cup your cheek. Pushing himself further into you. He could feel his cock pulsing, balls preparing to refill. His desire for you was unyielding. Body craving yours anyway he could get it.

Roman pressed his weight into you, leaning you back against the mattress. Never removing his lips from yours. Hungry. Sloppy. A little awkward. All so Roman in itself. Pulling away for a moment just to look at you. His hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Thought you didn’t like the whole kissing thing?”

Roman put his entire palm over your smirk. Annoyed with you. Pushing your head into the bed. Earning himself a giggle from you, your hands wrapped around his arm. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to see your beautiful smile. Even if it was endearing.

“Shut up, you little hyena,” Roman’s normal tone and way of speaking returned. Smirking for the short moment your eyes were covered. Enjoying this.

You stuck your tongue out, licking up his palm. Instinctively, Roman jerked away. Faming shock as he looked at his hand. Looking back at you and half laughing as he spoke, “You fucking freak! Jesus Christ, you don’t even know where that thing has been!”

Your hands came up to cover your mouth as you laughed. Cheeks shining and eyes squinted.

“And you’re laughing?! What the hell is wrong with you—“ Roman leaned forward to be nose to nose with you. Teeth on display as he tried to fight off his grin.

“You’re one to talk!” you playfully pushed his shoulder.

“OH? Coming from Miss Dommy Mommy? Making me cum all over those expensive ass shoes I bought you—. You think I’m the freak in this relationship?” Roman snarked, hand flattening against his chest for emphasis.

You leaned your head back with a laugh. Eyes falling closed as you sighed. Catching your breath from the repetitive laughter. Thinking about what he just said. Letting the weight of that sentence sit on you. Knowing he did not mean it the way it sounded. But still loving the thought.

“You fucking loved it.”

“Whatever you say.”

Roman rested his head on your exposed chest. Hands tucking themselves under your back. Listening intently to your heartbeat. You petted the back of his head. Allowing both your bodies to relax. Knowing this is how you would sleep the entire night.

But tomorrow morning, neither of you would acknowledge this moment. This tender, almost romantic, position. Or how comfortable you felt together. Willing to show each other more than you could any other person.

Because it’s not like you were dating.

That’s just gross.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Roman, I just love him so much. My sick little freak! If you are interested in being tagged in my future works, let me know! Inbox is always open. Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! //

{tags}

@strang3lov3 ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @person-005 ~ @digitalpup444 ~

[dennisboobs]

i accidentally didn't sleep because i was talking about dennis and now i've accidentally started making an edit

[slasherflicks999]

I am the only one remembers Crosshatch Creepypasta. Look her up, I felt like she is one of most forgotten Creepypasta characters. I do miss some digital and gaming creepypastas. TwT

She is like female Ben Drowned lol.

i swear i feel like i saw her on amino once in middle school or something she looks SO familiar but not enough to confidently say i knew who she was before now

SHE DOES LOOK SO COOL THO i appreciate i appreciate :o any BEN adjacent character honestly gets an automatic nod of appreciation tho LOL

if you have ever played or heard of the game OFF…. her design reminds me a lot of it

so hyped for that game to come to switch btw TOBY FOX IS GONNA BE ON THE SOUNDTRACK IM DEAD /POS

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Being high energy while sick feels insane. Like my brain is telling me I should lay down and rest but is also telling me I should run around in circles and break things.

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

god ive never been more excited to work on something for school im actually vibrating in my seat right now

[foxtrology]

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

[invoncible]

have you ever thought of writing for one of Marks variants? If so you should definitely do Mohawk Mark his cocky attitude is so ugh …. i love your work by the way!

— thank you nonnie hope you like this ! I LOVE MOHAWK MARK OMG

"you know, i feel like i've seen you before." mohawk mark had you by your wrists, preventing your escape as he pinned you to the ground. he studied your face like you were a toy in his hands.

fuck. your boss had sent you to your death yet again. when you signed with your news station, you didn't realize you'd be signing your life away chasing these heroes and their problems.

you thought this was invincible—everyone did until a few minutes ago. they had similar getups and abilities. it was a logical conclusion, right?

wrong. within minutes of pulling up to the penitentiary, the news van was tossed onto its side, a invincible sized hole cut clean through the back. the variant grabbed you and your cameraman by the clothes and dragged you onto the ground... and here you were.

"oh, yeah!" mark snapped his finger, a wicked grin spreading on his face. "you're that news reporter! i remember you... didn't kill you back home cuz you always got my good side." he leaned in, taking your chin in his fingers and guiding you to look up at him. "s'that what you're doing here? you like the view in this dimension too?"

his eyes flicker dangerously to your cameraman, who was shaking behind the heavy lens on his shoulder. he huffed a small laugh at the sight, like the fear he smelled off your partner really got him going.

"yes!" you quickly exclaim, forcing his attention back to you.

his eyes snapped back to you. blood rushed to your head, pulse thundering in your ears. you try your best to not flinch at the way his rough fingers dug into your skin.

"what can i say," you laughed weakly. "you're the hot topic right now, had to get a piece for... myself?"

he paused, his expression like stone as he peered between you and your cameraman, weighing the options in his head: do i kill them for fun, or let them entertain me for a little bit?

after a long pase, mark rose effortlessly to his feet, dragging you up with him by your wrists. he slung his arm around your shoulders like you were old friends in some twisted version of reality. he twirled you around in the ruins, the destruction stretching out in front of you like some sick display of power.

“you like what i’ve done with the place?” he asked, voice dripping with mock innocence as he took in the scattered bodies, the blood-slicked ground.

"oh..." your eyes trailed over the wreckage, the broken limbs and bodies sprinkled over the ground like confetti, and all the blood was the icing on the top. "impressive."

you weren't lying, exactly. it was an impressive show of power, as sick as it was. unease twisted in your gut.

"i knew i liked you." he chuckled. "hey, let's get rid of this." he grabbed the mic from your hand and crushed it, the circuitry sparking one last time before dying completely.

"i mean, sure, i could kill you. it'd be a waste of a pretty face, so i’m not gonna. we've got history, you and i."

your pulse quickened. your eyes darted to your cameraman, who had already taken off, running toward another van and driving off. you grit your teeth. fucking coward.

you felt the weight of mark’s gaze burning into your back as he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"i'm not the same as your y/n." you reminded him quietly.

"yeah? come home with me 'nd find out."

"no." your eyebrows furrowed.

he smiled, your resistance rolling off his back like it meant nothing. "you're gonna. two y/ns are better than one, and besides you're gonna love my place—it's a palace. i'll get you a nice room and everything. all you'd have to do is stay by my side."

"mm..." you glared at him, trailing off but communicating your answer loud and clear. not that you thought he'd listen to you anyways. his grip on you was almost possessive. this guy was superpowered, for fuck's sake. you were dead for the second he decided he was done playing around with you.

"ohohoho," he chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow. "you're lucky you're cute. but you're coming with me." he shot up into the sky, already set on taking you to wherever he intended to stash you until he had a way back to his dimension.

you shrieked as you were vaulted into the air, anchored only by his arm around your waist.

"shhh," he grinned wildly, his hair fluttering in the wind. "you were the one that wanted a piece for yourself. you gonna refuse me when i'm accommodating you so nicely?"

against your better judgement, you clung to him and hoped that his nice mood lasted a long, long time.

© invoncible

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[hcneymooners]

⋆ angel of mine; i’m probably gonna think about you all the time.

biker!sevika x stripper!chubby!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: when you get news of your grandmother’s declining health, you pack what’s left of your life in miami and begin to head home. on the way you meet enigmatic stranger sevika, who gives you a ride.

wc: 10k

cw: age difference! stripper!reader, chubby!reader, fem!reader, mommy issues, implied melvika, implied melvika x reader, strangers to lovers, roadtrips, biker!sevika, resolved sexual tension, codependency, found family, dysfunctional families, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibition kink (implied), degradation, name-calling, dom/sub, dom!sevika, sub!reader, hyperfemme!reader, lowkey sugar mommy!sevika.

notes: you can definitely tell i’m southern in this piece. i love the south despite it not loving me (black, sapphic, & female) back. so much of florida contains my family and love though i left it. i hope that comes through. i’m really proud of this and i hope you enjoy. so sorry for any typos i may have missed. let me know what you think & if you want a full melvika x reader pt. ii ! i love you. 𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖°

playlist: lana born to die: paradise album. listen here.

The white teeth of Miami were always going to eat you alive.

That’s what your grandmother used to say, her voice crackling over the phone, sweet but certain, the way only old women could be. She didn’t say it to scare you—just to remind you that the city, for all its glitter and heat, had sharp edges. She was a lioness, and you were good meat.

You’d felt it too, walking barefoot along the highway, heels swinging in one hand and your purse in the other. The sunset was dying behind you, streaks of cotton candy pink, baby blue, and tangerine smeared across the horizon like someone had finger-painted the sky in haste.

Your cheeks still sparkled faintly under the fading light, remnants of glitter you hadn’t scrubbed off from work. It clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. You’d braided the front of your hair into two plaits that went straight back, falling apart in the middle to join the rest of the mass—wavy and tinsel-streaked. It was your “mermaid hair” as your younger sister loved to call it. You blinked heavily, your 60s-style lashes dragging their soft bodies across your plush cheeks.

The ache in your feet was grounding though, pulling you out of the haze of the club—the strobe lights, the bass that rattled in your ribs, the haze of too many eyes on you.

You’d gotten through the night, but just barely. Grandma’s sick. That had been the thought looping in your head as you swayed under the lights, pretending to be something more desirable than tired. Your mother had called, her voice small and broken. She wouldn’t tell you where she was. I’ll be home tomorrow, you’d promised anyway and then you climbed back on the stage.

You’d scraped together what you could tonight, but not enough for both a cab and the medicine your grandmother needed. The last bus out of town was fucked, something about a technical failure. So, you walked, the stretch of highway endless, the heat still radiating off the asphalt like it was sinking into hell.

You were so distracted by both your raging anxiety and oncoming hunger that the headlights caught you off guard. A single beam at first, low and flickering, until the growl of the engine grew louder, sharper, swallowing the silence. You turned instinctively, lifting a hand to wave—desperation bleeding through the gesture.

The motorcycle slowed. It wasn’t just a machine; it was an extension of her.

Its rider was tall and broad-shouldered, her presence filling the space before she even spoke. A thick, short braid of dark hair hung over her shoulder, catching the light like polished onyx, and her face was all hard angles—sharp jaw, strong brow, a faint scar cutting through her upper lip. She leaned forward slightly, resting her weight on a prosthetic arm that gleamed silver in the twilight. Her eyes, cold at first glance, raked over you, measuring.

For the millionth time that night, you became painfully aware of your appearance. You hadn’t had much time to change before rushing out, so you were stuck in a turquoise spaghetti-strap tank that clung uncomfortably to your skin and a pair of low-rise grey sweatpants, the faded mall-brand logo on the hip barely holding on.

Your purse—a tiny baby pink crossbody clutch—was stretched to its limit, struggling to close over your overstuffed Polo Assn. wallet, its dark brown leather warped by thick stacks of crumpled bills and nearly maxed-out credit cards.

A single white earbud perched in your left ear, the mile-long wire snaking under the loose neckline of your tank and into your hands, where your phone gleamed faintly in the glare of her headlights. Glittery gold, covered in 3D bubble stickers of pale pink and cream roses—your little sister’s handiwork.

Between the heat of the phone and the plastic of the case, you’d tucked a Polaroid: you, your sister, and your aunt, all dolled up in perfect makeup and hoop earrings, the three of you grinning wide enough to make the moment feel permanent. Behind the photo, folded neatly, was a note.

The faintest whiff of smoke clung to you, softened by bellini, cherry, and peach. You’d tried hard to be sweet, always sweet, but it wasn’t enough to cover the night’s work. Especially not tonight.

“You lost?” she asked, her voice gravelly, low, like the rumble of her engine hadn’t entirely faded.

“Not lost,” you said, voice softer than you intended. “Just… trying to get home.”

You were always trying to go home.

She raised a brow, glancing at your bare feet and the glitter still dusting your face. “Long walk.”

You shrugged, exhaustion pulling at the edges of your face.

“No choice.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her expression unreadable, before she nodded toward the seat behind her.

“Hop on. I’ll get you there.”

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the gleam of her prosthetic, the way it contrasted with the calloused hand gripping the throttle.

“What’s your name?” you asked, finally, your voice quieter now.

She huffed faintly, tilting her head. “Sevika. And you?”

You gave her your name, your voice carrying the weight of gratitude but a lack of trust. You weighed your options—you had none—and decided that you could only hope she wasn’t insane.

You thought of the note in your phone case.

“Lord, I confess i want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Like everyone else, I want a storm I can dance in. I want an excuse to change my life. Lord if I say bless the cold water you throw on my face, does that make me a costume party. Am I greedy for comfort if I ask you not to kill my friends if I beg you to press your heel against my throat - not enough to ruin me, but just so I can almost see your face.” (x.)

Then, without another word, you climbed onto the bike, your fingers brushing against her shoulders as you steadied yourself.

The engine roared, and the wind hit your face, carrying you forward into the night. You bent your neck, tucked your head into her back, and began to pray.

❀

You woke to a soft hand on your skin.

“Hey. You up?”

The words were quiet, almost careful, but they pulled you from the thin edge of sleep. For a moment, you were disoriented. The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, white with faint water stains bleeding outward like bruises. The couch beneath you creaked as you shifted, and smelled of saltwater and lavender. There was a thin blanket draped over your shoulders but it felt impossibly heavy, anchoring you in place.

Sevika was leaning over you, her face shadowed but sharp in the dim light spilling from another room. Her hand lingered on your hip, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Come on,” she said, her voice low and gravelly, rasping against the quiet. “Mel wants to meet you.”

“Mel?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“She lives here. She’s… persistent,” Sevika said with a dry edge, stepping back to give you room to sit up. “And she’s got a thing for taking care of strays. Don’t worry, she’s nice. Nicer than me, anyway.”

The apartment was small, but the stomach of it was softened by a clear effort to make it feel like home.

The walls were painted a pale cream, though the paint was peeling in the corners, and the floors were scuffed wood. The furniture was mismatched, but there was a warmth to it—a knitted throw slung over the back of the couch, a row of half-burned candles on the coffee table, the faint scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air.

The windows were open, letting in the salt-thick breeze of the early morning, and a line of photos pinned to the wall swayed slightly, the string barely holding on.

Mel appeared in the doorway to what must have been the bathroom, her figure backlit by the soft, yellow glow. She was taller than you’d expected, her frame lithe but strong, and her black braids pooled over her shoulders like an oil spill, gleaming in the dim light. She held a cherry red hairbrush in one hand and a small bottle of lotion in the other, her brown skin catching the light beautifully.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice rich but cautious. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, warm but searching.

Most people tended to treat you this way. It was as if you were a scared animal and they were trying to coax you in.

You nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude here.”

“You didn’t,” Mel said quickly, stepping closer. Her tone softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Sev doesn’t bring people home unless she has a reason. You must’ve needed it.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Your gaze flicked to Sevika, who leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her broad chest, her prosthetic glinting faintly in the soft light. She was watching the two of you, her expression unreadable.

“I’ve seen you before,” Mel said suddenly, drawing your attention back to her. Her smile turned wistful. “At The Siren, right?”

The mention of the club sent a ripple of recognition through you. You nodded slowly, and Mel’s expression shifted, her eyes softening further.

“I thought so,” she murmured. “You helped me once, in the bathroom. I was… having a bad night. You were so sweet.”

The moment came back in pieces. Her face streaked with tears, her voice trembling as she spoke about her mother, about leaving home. You’d handed her a tissue, touched her shoulder lightly, said something comforting.

“I remember,” you said softly, your voice catching in your throat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mel said, her gaze steady. “But I’m glad you did.”

She knelt in front of you, holding up the brush. “Let me help you. You’ve had a long night.”

You hesitated, but something in her expression, in the calm warmth of her voice, made you nod. She guided you to the bathroom, which was small and tidy, the mirror rimmed with salt stains and seashells.

As she brushed your hair, her touch was careful, her fingers grazing your scalp like she was afraid of breaking something fragile.

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice faint. “You smell nice.”

Her laugh was quiet, and you felt the warmth of it root deep in your chest.

“Coconut oil,” she said, but there was a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Mixed with vanilla. I like to smell dewey and sugary. Kind of like you.”

You smiled tiredly at her in the mirror, lifting a hand to pat at her wrist. The tender powder pink of your acrylics were bright against it. Behind you, Sevika leaned in the doorway, her presence as steady as a shadow.

“You’re making her shy, Melly,” she teased, her voice like gravel underfoot.

Mel glanced at her, rolling her eyes, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips. As a final touch she added a large bow clip to your tamed strands; it was lilac and worn at the ends.

When you were cleaned up, you reached for your purse, pulling out a crumpled bill.

“Here. Let me—,” you began, holding it out.

Mel’s expression shifted, her smile fading into something more serious as she cut you off. She pushed your hand back gently.

“Honey, you don’t owe me anything.”

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard, and you tucked the money away, unsure of what to say.

Sevika cleared her throat. “Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Tampa,” you said.

She raised a brow, her smirk returning.

“Figures. You seem like a Tampa girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Sevika just shrugged, her mouth twitching.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

The three of you stepped into the early morning light, the ocean-heavy breeze brushing against your skin. You didn’t even know you could live this close to the ocean in Miami.

You turned back and caught Sevika and Mel in silent conversation. There was something unspoken between them, between you, something you couldn’t quite name. For now, though, you let it rest.

Grandma’s sick, you reminded yourself. You had to keep going.

❀

The rest of the day swelled with humidity, the horizon bruised with the threat of rain. The Cadillac’s engine purred low, its growl humming beneath the croon of soft rock spilling through the speakers.

You kept your eyes on the window, the world outside blurring as heat shimmered off the asphalt and smeared the palms into a haze.

Sevika hadn’t said much since you got in her car. She didn’t need to.

There was a quiet kind of ease in her presence, a stillness that somehow made the grief gnawing at your chest feel less unbearable. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window frame, her fingers idly toying with a cigarette she hadn’t yet lit.

The smell of the car had settled around you—leather, faint smoke, and something warm you couldn’t name. It was the kind of smell that made you think of safety, though you didn’t know why.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, the screen lighting up with a message from your mother.

Sorry, baby doll. Grandma’s on the brink.

You read the words twice, three times, and still they didn’t make sense. Your fingers tightened around the phone, your nails pressing into its glittery gold case, and something sharp and hot clawed its way up your throat.

Sevika glanced over, her brow furrowing.

“You good?”

You nodded quickly, your lips pressing together to hold back the tears that were already welling. But it was no use. They spilled over, fat and hot, streaking black mascara down your apple-round cheeks.

You turned your head, pretending to watch the passing trees, but your reflection in the window gave you away.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered, low and rough. She took one last drag from her cigarette, then flicked it out the window. “Hold on.”

She pulled off the highway, her movements smooth and deliberate, and guided the car into the gravel lot of a diner. Its neon sign flickered faintly against the gray sky, Chuck’s written in soft pink cursive. The building was small and sweet, painted robin’s egg blue with white shutters and lace curtains framing its windows.

Sevika parked and cut the engine, turning to look at you.

“Come here.”

Her voice was softer now, but it still carried that unshakable steadiness. You hesitated, your hands trembling in your lap, but the look on her face left no room for doubt. You leaned toward her, and her arms came around you, solid and warm, pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her hand smoothing over your hair. “Come on, angel. Just let it out.”

And you did. The sobs came in waves, ripping through you until you were shaking, your fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t flinch, didn’t tell you to stop. She just held you, her hand a steady weight against the back of your head, her thumb brushing small, grounding circles into your shoulder.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged you like this.

When you finally pulled back, your face was hot, damp, and streaked; your mascara smudged into shadows beneath your eyes. Sevika reached out, her thumb catching the tracks on your cheeks.

“Messy,” she said softly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

The diner’s door chimed as you stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and bread washing over you. The interior was impossibly charming, with its pastel booths, checkerboard floors, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl cool against the back of your legs.

Sevika sat across from you, her body filling the small space like a storm cloud, heavy and unshakable. You stared out the window, watching the rain slip down the glass in delicate rivulets. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled, low and faint.

“You’re strong, you know that?” Sevika’s voice broke through the quiet.

You turned to her, startled. Her eyes were dark, but they were the softest you’d seen them so far, almost tender.

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing your chin. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt through you, her thumb catching against your skin.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, her voice low and certain. “You’ll be fine. You have to be.”

Outside, the rain fell harder, the sound of it filling the silence between you. And then Sevika let go, her hand retreating back across the table.

The rain continued to blur the diner’s windows, the soft pink neon outside flickering faintly against the new gloom. You stared down at your coffee, the chipped porcelain mug warm in your hands, but it wasn’t enough to steady the tremor that had worked its way into your fingers. The realities of the world felt too sharp, too close, like you might unravel right there in your plain sight.

“Talk to me,” you said suddenly, your voice thin and unsteady. “I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.”

Sevika’s eyes lifted from her coffee, dark and knowing. Her expression didn’t shift, but something gave in the set of her jaw. She leaned back, one arm slung over the booth’s edge, her other hand absently brushing the lip of her mug.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze flicking out to the rain before returning to her. “Tell me why you drive a beat-up Cadillac.”

That pulled a small, low chuckle from her, quiet but rich. She tipped her head, the motion slow and deliberate, and for a moment, you felt less like you were shuddering into beautiful pieces.

“You think she’s beat-up?” Sevika asked, her lips curving faintly.

“She’s held together by rust and prayer,” you said, almost smiling. “I’m just saying.”

Sevika’s laugh came fuller this time, a sound that filled the air without disrupting the other patrons.

“Hey. She’s got character. My dad gave her to me when I was nineteen. She used to be pristine—white leather, a real beauty. But time does what it does.”

You blinked, caught on the number.

“Nineteen?” you asked, hesitant. “How long ago was that?”

Her smirk grew, slow and sharp. “Longer than you’d guess, angel.”

Your brows furrowed, curiosity blooming against the weight in your chest. “How old are you?”

Sevika’s gaze lingered, the kind of look that made you feel seen in a way that was both unnerving and magnetic.

“Old enough to remember when you had to rewind your mixtapes with a pencil,” she said, her voice dry, teasing.

You couldn’t help it—a small laugh slipped out, barely there, but it felt good.

“I’ve always had a thing for older women,” you said absently, the words slipping out before you realized what you’d said.

Her smirk deepened, her eyes sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip.

“That so?” she murmured, her voice low and rich, a swatch of velvet dragged through smoke. “You looking for a mommy, angel?”

Heat flooded your face, vicious and unbearable, and you pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m, um—gonna order something at the counter,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her gaze.

She chuckled, soft and lazy, her voice following you as you turned toward the counter.

“Go on, sweetheart. Take your time.”

The diner felt warmer, brighter, as you made your way to the counter, the fluorescents buzzing faintly above. You kept your eyes on the menu board, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.

❀

It’s four more hours to Tampa, but it’s the most excruciating period of your life.

You’d left the diner a little steadier, Sevika’s arm brushing yours as you climbed back into her car. The Cadillac rattled like death, its leather seats sticky against your thighs.

You leaned your temple against the window, watching as the flat Florida landscape blurred into soft greens and yellows. The air outside was still thick with heat, even with the sun reducing its intensity as it slunk away.

The highway stretched out like an open wound, raw and endless. You fiddled with the radio dial until a bouncy indie pop song filtered back through the speakers, filling the air with a thousand wailing guitars. Sevika didn’t complain, her focus locked on the road ahead.

At some point, she pulled off into a gravel lot in front of a boutique. The building was small and unassuming, its pink paint faded by time. A hand-painted sign swung lazily in the humid breeze.

“We’re stopping?” you asked, your voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“You need other clothes,” Sevika said simply, stepping out of the car. “Come on.”

The shop smelled faintly of coconut wax and dust, its racks crammed with mismatched pieces that managed to appear more curated than random. Sevika leaned against a rack of jeans, her arms crossed, as you wandered through the aisles.

“We’re strangers,” you said eventually, holding up a knit top to your chest. “Why are you taking care of me?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her jaw tightening in thought.

“I remember being twenty-one,” she said finally. “The world was a lot to handle back then. Some days, it still is.”

You lowered the top and gazed at her, mouth dipping in understanding. She was so beautiful here, despite being far from at home in this confectionery store. Her arms flexed gently as she shifted in place, and you resisted the urge to press her hair out of her face.

“I’m sorry that you know what that feels like.”

“You don’t have to pity me,” she said, the response clearly a reflex.

You smiled crookedly and didn’t press further.

The outfit you picked—a striped knit and high-waisted jeans—felt soft against your skin. The knit hugged your curves, the soft plum-colored neckline slipping just low enough to expose the plush swell of your shoulder. When you stepped out of the dressing room, Sevika gave you a once-over, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’re a girl with expensive taste,” she teased. “Is that cashmere?”

“It’s my stage name for a reason,” you shot back, smiling softly. “And everything is overpriced here.”

“You look like a doll,” she said, her tone amused.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past her to the counter.

“I’ve got to look a little more appropriate.”

“For what?” she teased. “Tampa doesn’t care.”

“Well , my Aunt Kenna will.”

Unsurprisingly, you found yourself overpowered by Sevika at the register. She pressed her card down, its body sleek and black with silver lettering. Once again, you were struck by the kindness of strangers and you felt your throat tighten.

She gave you a look, as if to quiet your self-effacing urges. Behind the counter, the clerk smiled to herself as she observed the two of you. She was petite and had a pinched face, her hair short and a creamy blonde. Maddie, her tag read. She reminded you a lot of your mother, possessing the same shifty energy of a runner as she racked up your total.

The drive resumed, and with it, you revealed more of yourself to Sevika. You told her about your grandma, about the way she used to braid your hair with fake frangipani from the craft store and sing to you in the evenings where your mother would be gone. How her hands were always soft, even when they were tired. How you used to tuck yourself under the desk at the hospital where she worked when your heart was crumbled by women you definitely shouldn’t have been involved with at eighteen.

You spoke of your aunt, the way she fought to keep the family together, even when it wasn’t hers to save. You spoke of your little sister who in a way was also your child, how you did most things in life for her sake.

Sevika listened in silence, her hand resting on the wheel, her gaze never straying from the road. There was something in her stillness that made you feel seen, even when the words caught in your throat.

When you finally crossed into Tampa, the sky was dyed indigo and gold, the houses lining the street glowing faintly in the dusk.

You rolled the window down and leaned out, your phone poised to capture the image forever on your cracked back camera. You were such a tall child.

The warm air stroked against the moon of your face, tugged at the ends of your hair and dried your lips. You felt Sevika’s hand slide to your thigh, just below the crease of your ass, heavy and grounding, and you froze. Her palm was rough against the soft give of your flesh, her fingers splayed just enough to keep you steady.

“Don’t fall out,” she muttered, her voice tinged with quiet amusement.

“I won’t,” you said, but you sat back soon after, your heart beating a little too fast.

Sevika’s hand lingered a second longer before retreating to the wheel.

The butter-yellow house came into view, its shutters glowing faintly in the twilight. Your breath hitched. It looked the same as it always had, though the paint was more weathered, the steps chipped at the edges.

Sevika pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The silence was deafening. You fumbled with your purse, fingers trembling, but before you could open the door, Sevika’s hand found your chin. She turned your face toward hers, her thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Always is.”

Her eyes held you in place, dark and unflinching.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed her. Before you could think too much of it, you leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Over her scar.

“Thank you.”

Her mouth parted, but the screen door creaked open, and you saw your aunt step onto the porch, her arms crossed and one brow raised in quiet judgment. You hesitated, glancing back at Sevika.

“You could come in,” you offered, the words heavier than they should have been.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to your aunt before landing back on you. She pushed off the seat and got out to follow you, her presence like a shadow at your back.

The porch light hummed faintly as you step inside, and a creamy warmth filled your chest. Your sister cheered when she saw you, and you laughed—your eyesight blurring. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe.

❀

As always, you dived in headfirst and sought out your grandmother’s room.

It was a terrible mistake. You couldn’t handle seeing her like that.

Almost immediately, bile surged up your throat, sharp and acidic, and you bolted—pausing just long enough to set the medicine down on her nightstand with quaking hands. You burst outside, where the air was sweltering with salt and the sudden impact of your new reality.

You weren’t good with death, not in any of its forms.

When your daddy died, something inside you cracked clean in half, the break jagged and irreparable. You’d felt a piece of yourself slip down into his grave, like a loose flower. Since then, you’d clung to the hope that love—your love—could somehow keep the people you cared about alive. At least until you felt ready for the loss.

Your chest ached in a way that felt both too familiar and entirely new, like grief had leveled your ribs to construct a home in your body. You rubbed at it absently, trying to dull the pressure blooming there, blinking hard against the rising tide of tears.

She was going to die. You knew this. It settled into your stomach like lead, poisoning you.

Behind you, the woods creaked, the trees’ chorus soft and low, like they were joining you in mourning. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, angel,” Sevika said, her voice low and warm, the kind of soft you wouldn’t have expected from her. It caught you off guard every time. “You alright?”

“I’m not going back in there,” you said quickly, your voice brittle and thin.

“You don’t have to.” There was a pause, long enough to make your chest tighten. Then, quieter, “Can you look at me?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands, at the chipping polish on your grown out tips and the way your fingers trembled. You could feel her waiting, patient and steady, like she’d stand there all night if you needed her to. Finally, you turned, slow and reluctant, until your eyes met hers.

Sevika stood at the edge of the porch, broad shoulders framed by the faded light. Her face was unreadable, but not unkind.

“Come here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t think. You moved, inching forward on unsteady legs and stepping into her orbit. Her hands came up instinctively, one curling around your elbow, the other hovering just above your waist, as if she wasn’t sure where to touch you.

“I can’t go back in there,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“[Name]—,”

“She’s dying.”

“But you knew that. You can’t leave her when she needs you the most.

“I’m tired of people fucking needing me.” You crossed your arms over your torso, holding yourself. “They all just leave anyway.”

“When you love people, that’s the process. That’s life’s price.

The words hit you like a perfect blow, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying—big, fat tears that streaked your cheeks with warmth and made your mascara run. You tried to turn away, but her hand found your chin, tilting your face back toward hers.

“Hey,” she murmured, her thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s unfair, I know. Trust me, I know. Let it out.”

And you did. You let the sobs take you, let them rip through you wave after wave, until you were clinging to her shirt, the fabric balled tightly in your fists. She held you through it, solid and unfaltering, her hand steady against your back.

When the tears finally subsided, you felt drained, like you’d been wrung out and left to dry. But her arms stayed around you.

❀

Sevika managed to coax you inside, shivering and bleating like a lamb, but the house was newly unbearable.

Every room smelled like antiseptic and something sweetly rotting beneath the surface, a scent that clung to your hair and the back of your throat. The walls felt too bright, too alive for what was happening inside them.

It was like the house was mocking you. Every sound—your grandmother’s labored breathing, the clock ticking too loudly in the kitchen, your little sister’s restless movements on the couch—seemed to close in on you.

You couldn’t stay. Not in that room, not in that house. Maybe you took after your mother more than you liked to admit.

Your sister looked so small on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and her face blank as she stared at the flickering TV. She was holding onto the hem of her dress like it might unravel if she let go and the man on the screen promised to get her a spot in heaven, under God’s thumb. Bullshit.

When you spoke, your voice was soft, barely audible over the droning hum of the television.

“Get your shoes on, bug,” you said. “We’re going to the beach.”

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded and slid off the couch.

You were almost out the door when your aunt caught you, her voice sharp but quiet.

“You better know what you’re doing with that woman.”

Kenna’s words stopped you cold, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face shadowed by the dim porch light.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with her,” you admitted, your voice low. “But I know I trust her.”

Your aunt studied you for a long moment, her gaze heavy and cutting. Finally, she stepped aside, her expression softening just enough to let you know she wasn’t angry, just worried.

“I know what infatuation looks like. I know what love looks like too, even when it’s still on its way. It’s coming, baby. Just—,”she sighed, breaking off.

“Just be careful,” she finished.

You hugged her tight, sagging as she slid a hand over her hair before letting you go.

Sevika was waiting in the car, her arm draped over the steering wheel, her face unreadable in the twilight. Your sister climbed into the backseat, curling up immediately with her Lisa Frank coloring book, and you slid into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive was quiet, the low hum of the city filling the space between you. Sevika didn’t push, didn’t ask what had happened inside. She just drove, and you were so grateful you could’ve kissed her.

The beach was nearly empty when you arrived, the sun beyond gone now. You spread a blanket out on the cool gray sand, letting your sister run down to the water. Her laughter echoed faintly, carried by the breeze, and for a moment, you let yourself relax.

You pulled off your woven cover-up, revealing the soft orange bikini you’d slipped on. The well-loved fabric clung to you, accentuating the plush curves of your body in a way that made you stall for only a moment. But then Sevika looked at you, and the way her gaze dragged over you made all air flee your throat.

She swallowed hard, her jaw working as she tore her eyes away and stared out at the water instead.

“You look nice,” she said, her voice gruff.

You snorted, sitting down on the blanket.

“Nice?”

“Very nice,” she amended, but the rasp in her voice gave her away.

“You do too,” you told her and you meant it.

She was gorgeous in her black cropped tee and little black cargoes. This was “as beachy as she was willing to get”. You didn’t give a damn. You wanted to eat her alive.

The sky deepened into a hazy indigo, the stars faint and scattered. Your sister danced along the shoreline, her feet splashing in the shallow waves. You watched her, your chest aching with something you couldn’t name.

“I wish this was my entire life,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Sevika.

She turned to you, her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing to your sister. “Taking care of her. Taking care of my daughter with my wife. No illness, no bills piling up, no—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “No worries. Just a quiet life.”

Sevika didn’t respond right away. When you finally looked at her, her face was so soft in a way you knew was probably a rarity. Her prosthetic raised in an aborted motion, as if she’d thought to touch your face.

“I could take care of you, baby,” she said quietly, the words slipping from her lips like a promise.

Your breath caught, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Come back with me, [Name],” she said, her voice low and steady. “Stay with me and Melly. Bring [Sister’s Name]. You don’t have to do it alone all the time.”

The fantasy of her words pressed against your chest, warm and overwhelming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine it: her, Melly, your sister, a life where the world's heaviness couldn’t crush you.

Your sister called out from the water, waving a piece of driftwood she’d found, and the moment broke. Sevika’s hand brushed yours, solid and grounding, and when you turned back to her, her eyes were still on you, waiting.

The tide lapped at the shore, the sound mingling with your sister’s laughter, and you felt a rising pulse in your mouth, on your tongue.

“They do fireworks at the docks. You have to pay, but we sneak in all the time. You wanna see?”

“Sure,” Sevika said.

The answer came so easily and you knew she’d give you everything. Maybe even love you forever. The thought made you tingle and you dug your toes into the sand.

“Let’s go,” you said, your pinky twisting around hers.

You both knew you weren’t talking about the fireworks.

With a wry smile she rose and set about taking you home again.

Your sister—forever your baby—was curled fast asleep in the back seat of Sevika’s car by the time you pulled out of the lot, her face slack with the kind of peace only children seemed capable of. Her soft snores filled the space between you as Sevika drove back to your grandmother’s house, the streets quiet and warm, lit faintly by streetlights. The evening air hung heavy, sticking to your skin like a second layer.

You glanced at Sevika as she drove, her profile lit in flashes by the passing lights. Her grip on the wheel was loose, but her fingers drummed absently against the leather, her thoughts somewhere else. Maybe with you.

You wondered if she was nervous. You wondered if she knew how much you were.

“She’s out like a light,” Sevika murmured, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Guess it’s just us.”

You swallowed, your fingers playing with the hem of your cover-up, and nodded. “Just us.”

Your aunt was waiting on the porch when you arrived. She was perched on the railing, her vape glowing faintly in the dark. You knew the scent without looking: cucumber, apple, and sour cherry.

Her sharp gaze moved between the two of you as Sevika carried your sister inside, her long stride easy and steady despite the weight of the little girl in her arms.

“Enjoyed your family outing?” Aunt Kenna asked, teasing but pointed, as you lingered by the door.

You blinked at her, startled, heat rising in your cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”

She snorted, taking a long drag. “Sure it wasn’t .”

❀

The docks were quieter than you expected when you arrived. Most of the families had settled in their little corners, kids running barefoot across the wooden planks, their laughter echoing into the open sky. The air smelled of pear, peach blossoms, and distant charcoal grills, a mix of sugar and fire that felt like the very essence of where you’d been born and raised. 

Sevika parked far enough away to avoid the crowd but close enough for you to see the shimmering reflections of the boats swaying in the dark water. She leaned back against the hood of her car, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and watched as you wandered closer to the edge, the creamy orange of your tiny bikini glowing faintly in the dim light.

You should’ve been illegal.

“Careful, angel,” she called, her voice warm, fond. “You fall in, I’m not jumping after you.”

You turned, smirking, the breeze tugging at the bow sitting pretty in the middle of your full breasts. 

“I can swim.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to fish you out,” she said, but her smile gave her away. She was watching you so intently, her gaze loaded, as if committing you to memory.

You walked back toward her, your arms wrapped around yourself, and stopped just a foot away. The tension between you was almost tangible now, electric. You could feel it humming in the air, in the way her eyes lingered on the curve of your wide hips, the dip of your collarbone. It made your breath hitch.

“I’ve always loved the docks,” you said softly. “They feel… timeless. Like you could stand here forever and nothing would change.”

Sevika hummed, tilting her head to look up at you. “You think that’s a good thing?”

You shrugged, your lips curving faintly. 

“Sometimes.”

The first firework burst above you then, a bloom of pink and gold that lit up the sky and reflected off the water. A shock of red followed shortly after. You both looked up, the moment suspended, the sound of the explosion echoing in your chest.

You glanced at Sevika, her face bathed in the soft glow of the fireworks, and felt something shift inside you. Something undeniable.

The show continued, and you moved to lean against the hood of her car. The metal was warm and your stomach was buzzing at the nearness of Sevika’s broad body.

By the time the fireworks were halfway through, you couldn’t focus on them anymore. The loud bursts of color seemed secondary to the way Sevika was lounging next to you, her broad shoulders relaxed, her eyes soaking in the way goosebumps bubbled along your arms. It felt like she was daring you to do something, to cross the line you’d been dancing around since she’d swept you off the highway.

You moved closer, your bare feet brushing against hers, and she straightened slightly, her head listing to the side as she watched you.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice low.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. 

“I’m thinking…” You trailed off, your fingers twisting in the sides of your bikini bottom. “I’m thinking this feels… nice.”

Her lips quirked, just slightly, but her gaze was serious. “Nice?”

“So good,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel… safe with you. Things are perfect like this, and—and I’m probably never gonna feel this way again.”

The words hung between you, honest and raw, and you could see the way they landed on her, the way her expression softened, her guard slipping for just a moment.

“I’d never hurt you,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until you were standing between her legs, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. “I know.”

You didn’t, really. She could be selling you a paper thin dream. But your hope had always been the largest part of you. It spurred the flame you felt for her, your aching burning desire to be with her all the time. To ride by her side without question. 

Her hand came up then, hesitating for just a second before settling on your waist. The touch was light, almost cautious, but it sent an electric current straight through you.

“Sevika,” you whispered, your voice stumbling.

She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your cheek. 

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that felt just right, like the tide meeting the shore. Your body lit up, and you collapsed into her—trusting and free. 

She stilled for a moment, as if surprised, but then her hand tightened on your waist and she kissed you back, slow and deliberate.

The world seemed to fade then, the fireworks a distant, glittering symphony in the black sky. All you could feel was her—her warmth, her strength, the way she seemed determined to hold you together even as you felt like you might fall apart.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in weak gasps, lightheaded and aching to faint, she rested her forehead against yours, searching your dilated eyes.

Your lip gloss was smeared across Sevika’s jaw, leaving a streak of shimmering peach and rose that caught in the fleeting light of the evening. It clung to her skin, soft and vivid As she moved, the stain glistened faintly, the contrast against her sharp, weathered features sending a slow, aching thrill down your spine. 

It was yours, this faint, glittering mark, lingering in the space where your mouth had been. She made no effort to remove it.

“Angel,” she murmured, her voice rough. “You sure about this?”

You nodded, your hands clutching at her shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she pressed another searing kiss to your lips. 

“Come on,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Let’s get in the car.”

❀

Your palm slapped hard against the roof, your teeth almost tearing through your bottom lip as you tried to hold back a loud moan. 

Beneath you, Sevika gripped the copious flesh of your ass as she sucked at your clit. 

“Oh, shit, Sevika. Fuck.”

In the beginning you were so careful, worried about blocking her airway. With a hard slap to your ass she pulled you down, relentless in taking all of you. 

“Hnnnnnh,” you whimpered. “Sevi, fuuuuuck.”

Sevika hummed in satisfaction at that. As she watched your face she grazed your clit with her teeth, relishing in how you arched. 

You were so warm and supple between her fingers, your pussy slobbering over her nose and mouth. You tasted so good, so musky and honeyed. She never wanted to let you go. 

Slowly, she slide you down and pressed you down to her chest as she undid your bikini top so that your tits spilled eagerly against her own. She then tenderly tucked two fingers inside of you, cooing as you whined at the stretch. 

She began to bounce you by the fabric of your bottoms, forcing you to ride her fingers until they were covered in the thin film of your wetness. You moaned at her strength, at how easily she’d decided how you’d take her. 

“Good fucking girl. So sweet, aren’t you, baby? Hmm?”

“Sevi, please. Just—just a little faster.”

She grinned meanly, inserting a third finger and curling them—raking cruelly against your g-spot. You sank further into her, swiveling your hips if only to get her deeper. To take her harder. Your pussy was weeping, emptying itself onto her hand.

“Jesus, sweetheart. You’re leaking all over me. ‘M never gonna get this out of these seats.”

“Good,” you breathed out, smiling impishly.

Sevika’s eyes darkened and she suddenly rearranged you till you were on your back against the leather seats, your legs wholly spread. she lowered between them, licking a long stripe up to your clit experimentally. 

She had you soft and loose. You didn’t realize just how spacious this car was.

You moaned, high and loud, snapping into an arch until you were forced to come back down, Sevika’s arm holding your hips firmly. Your eyes were closed now, and your eyelids were no longer just black, explosions of color staining them, ripping through you.

Sevika lapped at you, taking her time but still intentional with the way she touched you. She used a hand to spread you apart burying her face into her pussy, her nose becoming wet again with your rabid need. She became messy, moving her head back and forth, slurping at you until you were almost shaking, on the edge of something greater.

Settling back just slightly, she spat harshly into your cunt and rubbed it into your clit, pressing down until it was close to painful. You couldn’t breathe correctly. You couldn’t even remember your name.

"Sevi. Sevi. Mommy, oh my fucking God.“

Sevika said nothing, just caught a lip of your cunt between her teeth, biting down as she slid her fingers back in.

"Unh," is what you had to add to the nonexistent conversation and Sevika grinned against you.

She spread her fingers and then curled them, dragging your hips into her lap as she sat up. You couldn’t feel your fucking legs.

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. It feels so fucking good."

Sevika was driven and vicious, determined to eat away at the woman beneath her. You curved your back as your orgasm approached, determined to feel it all the way up in the cavern of your mouth. You needed this.

Sevika leaned over you, tilting your head down so that you were looking at one another.

"I want you to keep looking at me as you cum."

You made a faint noise of agreement and clutched at Sevika’s arms. She took your hands and placed them underneath your knees, so that you could hold yourself open. It spread you apart until she was able to view how pink and puffy you were. 

“I can’t wait to get you in bed, honey. ‘M gonna bend you over, open that tight little cunt with my cock, and watch you swallow me.”

“Oh.” You let a little groan of satisfaction as she thumbed at your clit. 

Sevika pressed your foreheads together and thumbed at your mouth. You felt both here and there, brain blanking. 

“Ohh,” she mocked you with a slight smile. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You cast your head back as Sevika returned her mouth to your pussy, suckling at it in combination with her fingers carving a space deep inside of you.

"Come on, angel," she urged. "Be good for me."

You were trying, goddamnit.

"Gonna take a photo of this creamy cunt. Show Melly, tell her that I did this. That you let me."

You let out a high whine, and she nodded in faux sympathy.

“Mmm? Is that what you want to do? Want me to take you to that shitty club and spread you open on stage? Stake my claim?”

A fourth finger now. Her voice dropped as if telling you a secret.

“Maybe I’ll slide some cold, hard cash into this slutty cunt, stretch that slit.” Faster now. Your toes curled. “ Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy just wants to slut you out.”

She pressed a delicate kiss to your cunt and you were unsure if what came next was just the slam of your hand against the door echoing or another firework going off. 

All you knew was that the world around you was roaring, that she refused to stop. All you knew was her digging into you. 

You imploded.

❀

The drive back was quiet, the tension between you still palpable but softer now, sated and sleepy. Sevika reached over once, her fingers brushing against your cheek and you shifted, pressing the petals of your lips into the center of her palm without hesitation.

When you finally pulled into your grandmother’s driveway, the house bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, you turned to her, your heart full to bursting.

“Stay,” you said, your emotions splayed wide open. “Just for a little while.”

She looked at you for a long moment, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

You both knew it wasn’t just for a little while.

❀ 

The house smelled like hibiscus and coffee when you walked in, the faint scent of six-dollar soy candles lingering in the corners. Your aunt was at the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water, her curls pinned back with a clip. She turned when she heard the door creak open, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Sevika trailing behind you, broad-shouldered and quiet.  

“You brought her back?” she asked, not in a disparaging manner, though her tone carried the weight of an older woman who’d seen it all.

“[Sister’s Name] forgot something in her car,” you lied easily, gesturing toward said alibi, who was peeking into the kitchen while rubbing a fist over her eye, her drowsy greeting muffled as she dragged her blanket behind her.  

Your aunt didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue either. Instead, she flicked her chin toward the counter. 

“If she’s staying, she may as well help.”  

Sevika looked at you, one brow arched slightly in amusement. You shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the idea of her folding herself into your life—even for something as mundane as this—made your stomach swoop. 

The kitchen was broiling, almost unbearably so, with the old oven humming faintly and the humidity from the day still clinging to the walls. Sevika rolled up her sleeves, revealing the curve of her forearms, the prosthetic gleaming faintly in the soft overhead light. 

You tried not to stare, but your eyes kept drifting—over the way her hands moved as she dried the dishes your aunt handed her, the faint flex of muscle under her skin.  

“You ever wash a dish before?” your aunt asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.  

“Plenty,” Sevika admitted, her voice low and even. “Did a couple restaurant stints when I first came to this place. I was hoping to never do that shit again.”  

You bit back a smile, ducking your head as you reached for a towel to dry the counter. The space felt smaller with her in it, her silhouette filling every corner, her quick movements electric.  

Your aunt glanced between the two of you, her gaze lingering on Sevika before she handed her another plate. 

“You’re a hard worker. Good. She needs someone who can keep up.”  

Sevika’s lips quirked, but she didn’t respond, her attention focused on the task in front of her.  

The radio crackled faintly from the corner, playing some old Cuban bolero your aunt loved, and you found yourself swaying slightly as you worked, the rhythm infectious. You caught Sevika watching you out of the corner of her eye, her gaze soft but intent, and your cheeks warmed.  

“You dance to this too?” she asked, her voice pitched low enough that your aunt didn’t catch it.  

“Sometimes,” you said, keeping your focus on the counter. “Not for free, though.”  

She chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. “Figures.”  

Your aunt, oblivious or maybe just tactfully ignoring the tension that weaved itself between you, turned to Sevika with a clean dish in hand. 

“Rinse this for me, would you? And don’t let her distract you—she’s been trouble since she could fucking walk.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sevika said, glancing at you with a spark of amusement in her eyes.  

The night wore on, the kitchen growing quieter as your aunt finally finished and stepped out to check on your sister. You stayed behind, leaning against the counter as Sevika dried her hands on a threadbare patch of towel. 

“I can’t believe you were hustling in restaurants,” you said, nodding toward the sink.  

She smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be a delight.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

 “Thanks for helping.”  

“Anytime,” she said, her voice softening slightly.  

You watched her for a moment, the way her shoulders seemed less tense now, the way her hair caught the light. The memory of her hands on you earlier still lingered, watering over your skin. It was a secret only the two of you shared.  

“You okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she stepped closer.  

You nodded, though your chest felt tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears. 

“Yeah. Just a little tired.”  

Her hand brushed yours, just barely, but it was enough to make your heart skip. She noticed, her gaze dropping to where your fingers nearly touched before she pulled back, her jaw tightening.  

“We should get some sleep,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though you didn’t move.  

For a moment, neither of you did, the hum of the radio the only sound in the room. Then she stepped back, giving you space you didn’t want, and you let her.  

❀

Your bedroom felt much like the inside of a shell—quiet and strange, the air soaked with a mixture of rose, magnolia, and something darker, something that sat low in your chest. You could still taste the golden slices of your childhood, still feel the ache in your ribs that came from building elaborate forts. 

But now there was Sevika, solid and steady beneath you.

As soon as the door had closed, she’d taken you apart slowly, carefully, as though she’d known you needed it to feel stable again. 

The rough pads of her fingers, the soft murmur of her voice, the way she called you princess like it was the only name you’d ever had. And you had suffered in silence, hand across your mouth as you clenched and shook around her head for the third time, then the fourth. 

You’d finally tired after a good ride on her thigh, holding on desperately to the nape of neck. Her baby hair was soft there, tender. She came when you kissed her nose, slid down to her mouth, and called her beautiful. She’d whimpered, bucked awkwardly around your fingers, and you held her to you as you whispered her name. 

You’d looked it up in the bathroom. Sevika. Of Indian and Sanskrit origin. Servant of God. 

Now, she lay between your legs, her head resting heavy and warm against your stomach. The weight of her felt magical, made your body feel more virginal than it ever had been, and you sighed lowly as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting pale gold stripes across her back. 

The swan wings stretched with her every move, the feathers catching flight as she breathed. Muted ivory and soft grays leaned tenderly into the faintest hints of lavender and navy blue, the delicate gradient of ink glowing against her deep, bronze skin.

You reached out, tracing the curve of a wing’s tip near her shoulder blade. The ink felt warm under your fingertips, her skin soft but unyielding. The swan’s head, nestled at the base of her neck where the wings met, was elegant and sharp, its eyes bright as if they could see into you. You followed the line of its neck with your thumb, your touch lingering at the place where her spine dipped, and she hummed low in her throat, a sound that vibrated through your body.

She tilted her head, her cheek brushing against the softness of your belly as her eyes opened slowly, sleep still heavy in her gaze. 

“You like it?” she murmured, voice rough and low.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

You had already said this, and the reminder made you blush in embarrassment. A slow, lopsided smile tugged at her lips, and she closed her eyes again, sinking deeper into you as if she belonged there. You felt her hand slide up to rest on your thigh, her fingers splayed against your skin, holding you in place like she was afraid you’d disappear into the rising morning.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you flinched at the sound, the world outside pressing back in. Sevika didn’t move, just let her hand trail lazily up your spine as you reached for it. The screen glowed with messages from your aunt:  

aunt kenna 𓆉: Couldn’t get anyone to cover the rest of my shifts this week. aunt kenna 𓆉: Mom’s still kicking. She’s getting stronger. aunt kenna 𓆉: Ty for coming home. See you soon. Love you, bug x 

Still alive, you thought. The words lit up something inside you, bright and raw and impossible to contain. You laughed, the sound catching on the edge of a sob, and dropped the phone onto the bed.

“What is it?” Sevika asked, her voice filling with concern.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. The words tangled in your throat. Instead, you turned to her, your fingers trembling as they found her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her full mouth. 

“She’s still alive,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a prayer.

Her eyes softened, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice steady, certain. “She’s a strong woman, just like the rest of you.”

The relief hit you all at once, sharp and overwhelming, and you kissed her because you couldn’t think of anything else to do. It was messy and desperate, your hands fisting in her hair as you tried to pour every unspoken thing into her mouth. She let you, her body surrendering to its basest urges . 

“Still alive,” you repeated, this time against her lips, your forehead resting against hers as your tears slipped silently onto her skin. 

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, her hands steady on your hips. “You’re all gonna live forever.”

You kissed her again, because you needed to. You needed her. 

You believed her. 

And the truth was you didn’t know how good it would get for the two (five) of you. 

You’d look back, let go, lose this part of things. Take your baby sister and leave.

You’d still be you, but you'd be free.

taglist: @miles-42-morales @indigopearl96 @marvelwomenarehot0 @vintagelotus345 @queen-simone @uronlymiaa @namuranguinhos @femlesbianbarbie @femme-historian @vikaswife @powderpinkandsweeet @drgnflyteabox @icespiceluva @theirlaliengirl @supermanwifey @nkeyaaa @batmanslittlelover @strawberrykidneystone @shimmerstraps

© hcneymooners

[luvyeni]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──────── not only did you enjoy working for johnny you also loved what happened after putting the girl to bed.

( 対 ) johnny suh + fem. reader wc. 0.7k genre smut · contains! unprotected sex. breeding kink. dirty talk. mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ johnny fic because im in love with him its concerning …

you loved everything about being a live in nanny to 5 year old sora ; she was a nice little girl who played well and didn’t cause too much trouble — that was until bath time; that’s when she turned into a demon spawn.

“catch me!” the little girl ran around the house, water dripping gripping from her hair as she shrieked , laughing as she dodged you. “sora!” you ran around after her with a towel in your hand. “you’re gonna get sick , and your dad is gonna kill me.” you huffed. “sora get back here.”

johnny was a single dad, and author who had full custody of his young daughter; he’d hire you to take care of the young girl properly while he was away or needed time to himself to work. “no sora don’t go into daddy’s office, let me dry your hair.” it was too late she was pushing the door open , closing it behind her. “sora!”

you opened the door , the older man holding the little girl in his hand. “mr. suh i’m so sorry , she’s a bit more energetic today.” you apologized embarrassed. “come sora.” you finally wrapped her in the towel. “i see that , sora you need to let yn get you ready for bed.” he said. “i wanna play daddy.” the little girl said. “can me and yn play?” he laughed. “how about you two play tomorrow, after kindergarten?” he said , his eyes going to you. “yn looks tired , how about we be good and get some sleep , so yn can get some sleep?” he spoke so softly with the girl it made you smile. “okay daddy.”

“good girl.” he turned to you. “thank you.” you said. “she’ll sleep well tonight.” he said , you nodded. “hopefully all this energy is gone.” you held the girl in your arms , about to walk away. “yn.” he said , making you stop and turn to face him again. “yes mr. suh.” he smiled. “before you go to bed , come see me, okay?” you nodded , trying to contain your smile as you took the now sleepy girl to bed — because not only did you enjoy working for johnny and taking care of sora; you also loved what happened after putting the girl to bed.

“oh fuck.” johnny sat back in his seat with a sigh , his computer glowing from the light of his computer, his newest book on display, but he was too distracted by you going to town in his cock , spit dripping from the corners of your mouth as his huge cock hit the back of your throat over and over. “keep choking on my cock.” he groaned , holding the back of your head , guiding you up and down on his length. “fuck , your mount feels so good.” you sat on your knees , under his work desk , letting the 30 something year old man use your mouth. “gonna cum , st-stop.” he pulled you off of him , spit falling from the top of his cock. “look at you drunk off my cock.” he looked down at you. “can’t wait to make you dumb on my cock.”

“johnny fuck!” you moaned as he push the fat mushroom tip of his cock inside of you. “you’re so loud baby , you don’t want to wake her, do you?” he started moving. “so-so good.” you moaned as the older man stretched you out with his cock , your eyes rolled to back of your head as he fucked you against his desk , you boobs moving along with his thrust. “yeah?” he grunted. “you like when i fill you with my cock.” he hit that one spot that made you gasp for air , a moan getting caught in your throat. “so dumb for my cock baby , you gonna cum?”

you nodded , his thumb stringing your clit , making your legs tremble. “look at shaking , wa-wanna watch you take my cum inside this pretty pussy , gonna give her a sibling to play with.” he cursed when you clenched around his length. “fuck , you like that? want me to breed this pretty pussy.” you moaned. “please.” he cursed. “you wan a baby princess? whatever you want gonna have you stuffed with my cum.”

“johnny i’m cumming!” he held your legs up against your chest , fucking deeper into your womb. “fuck me too , cum , cum all over me.” he groaned as you clenched tightly around him , barely letting him move. “fuck.” he groaned as you both came , his sticky cum flooding you unprotected cunt. “take all of princess , don’t waste a drop.” he kissed your flushed cheeks.

“gotta make it stick.”

©️LUVYENI

[tojicaleb]

she's busy!

the consequences of playing a lil prank on caleb ;p

warnings: filth! u call him sir n he uses some derogatory terms!! nice lil aftercare tho

minors dni ^.^ this was reposted from my (deactivated) twt ;p

“busy, huh?” caleb growls as he snaps his hips into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you further into the couch.

his hand trailing upwards on your body before groping at your tits. “‘m sorry sir ‘m s-so sorry i cant,” you whine out as your hands reach out to hold onto anything nearby. you look up at him through your tear filled eyes, pretty black streaks from your smudged makeup coloring your face, the mere sight of you all ruined and fucked out making him groan out in pleasure.

your tears are his weakness, making his already rock hard cock even harder and you feel him twitching inside you at the sight of them. it makes you feel like a doll, your suffering bringing him so much satisfaction. only he can make you like this, dumb you down till you're babbling and unable to make any coherent sentences, can only whine in pleasure and pain. a dumb lil doll, all for his using.

“you know how much i hate the thought of any one having you,” he grunts as he wraps his hand around your neck, watching your eyes widen slightly and your breath hitch.

you shake your head quickly, trying to come up with another excuse or an apology, but your brain is too cloudy. you can't. “what made you think that was a good prank, hm?” he asks you, his eyes fully focused on the way you're writhing and squirming. a sick grin painting his face as he watches you drool stupidly. he loves this. he loves you.

“answer me, mutt. i asked you a question.” he mutters, his hips never ceasing its attacks on your pussy. you muster the remaining energy you have to reply to him, and he can see that, he can see that you're really trying your best. it fills him with pride. “‘m sorry i really- fuck, i really thought it would be funny im so sorry sir ill never do it again.” youre really crying at this point, unable to keep up with the pleasure he's bringing you.

“oh baby, you truly are so precious,” he chuckles as he wipes your tears with his thumb before popping it in his mouth, the salty fluid making him throw his head back, a loud throaty moan escaping him. your pussy twitches around his cock at the sight, unable to control your incoming high. “f-fuck fuck, sir ‘m gonna cum, please,” you breathe out, your eyes widening as he quickens his pace, the wet noises of your cunt echoing in the room as your whines get louder and louder. “yeah? fuck, pretty, me too.” his thumb moving to flick at your clit a couple times before your back arches off the couch, and feel yourself wetting his abdomen. “f-fuck yeah, cum for me baby, make a mess all over me.” he breathes out before pushing his hips into you one last time, cock twitching in you, filling you up to the brim with his cum.

you're breathing heavily out of exhaustion, caleb holds your face in his hands and presses soft kisses all over. “you okay baby?” he mutters and you nod, a small smile stretching your lips. he chuckles, moves your hair out of your face before mumbling, “i love you pretty girl.” hes so soft with you, holding you like you're his entire world, the only thing that ever matters in the universe. you giggle at him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “i love you more.” he grins at you, and gets up, pulling out of you with a wince. “let's get your pretty ass cleaned up, yeah?”

[shouyuus]

hiii rain how are you doing beautiful💞

what do u think about long-distance relationship!vi

a quick lil thing bc its been a long day u__u; i'm alright bby! still sick but im getting better slowly!!! <3

tiny lil bit 18+, mdni, vi-shaped brainrot as per usual

longdistance!vi who has a separate ringtone just for you, so she'll always know when it's you calling; she never misses a phone date, even if she's a little late sometimes, who nearly fumbles her phone when she tries to answer, so eager, every single time, who stares down at the image of you with the goofiest smile, because god how'd she get so lucky?

longdistance!vi who will phone you in the morning just to brush your teeth together, the both of you still half-asleep, messy hair and all, doesn't say a word, but will make faces at you when she's rinsing her mouth, gargles extra loud just to try and make you laugh so you'll choke on your toothpaste, winks when she catches you staring at her when she steps back to change, doesn't mute at all when she pees right after, laughing when you roll your eyes and hang up, only to call back a second later, her face shoved up against the screen, distorting her features just to say, "it's healthy to pee in the morning!"

longdistance!vi who's never shy with telling you that she misses you and is unrepentantly needy, texts you at all hours of the day, whines that life must hate her because you're so far apart, counts down the hours till she gets to see you again in person (three months, two days, and thirteen hours --)

longdistance!vi who doesn't hold back describing to you all the things she's gonna do to you the second she gets her hands on you, even as she's got a hand shoved down her own panties, the sound of your whines in her ears -- "god, can't wait to fuck you till you're cumming around my fingers -- you're always so wet for me baby --" "miss how you taste, miss the way you pull my hair --" "want you to cum on my mouth over and over, can you do that for me, baby? yeah?" "lemme hear you cum, doll, that's right -- moan nice and loud for me -- yeah, fuck the neighbor, he can complain to me when i get there."

longdistance!vi who definitely makes good on her promises, and then some, but you'll wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning, to the sound of her humming in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts; who can't help the smile that takes over her face when she turns around to see you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, wearing of one her old band tee's, your hair a bird's nest tangle from the night before.

"morning, princess -- sleep well?"

you patter up to her, press a kiss to her cheek, reach up for the moka pot to make some coffee.

"mm... depends on what well means -- we didn't get to sleep till wayyyy late," you tease, tugging two mugs from their hooks on the wall, bending over the fridge for the milk carton.

"yeah well -- 's not like we had plans today other than chillin' at home and --" she leans over to mouth at your neck, looping an arm around your middle, groaning into your skin even as you giggle and let her suck yet another hickey into your shoulder.

"i thought you wanted to go grocery shopping today? weren't you gonna make me vander's famous meatballs?"

she sighs, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

"fine, fine... but that can wait till the afternoon right?"

"sure it can," you say, laughing as she waddles the pair of you back to the stove to flip the bacon and eggs.

longdistance!vi who's always been terrible at goodbyes, who lingers too long and almost misses her flight, but she'll always be the last one waving, either by the airport drop-off or in the window of her cab, who texts you nearly immediately as you're out of sight, reminds you to drive safe, that she misses you already, and that she's already counting down the days till she can see you again.

[chrisstvrns]

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦…

warnings: head under the desk, head while live streaming, swallowing cum, hair grabbing and light tugging, no use of y/n, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!! 

word count: 811 

based off of this request!

it had been nearly 3 hours since matt and chris started streaming. you had been napping for most of the stream, and you woke up an hour ago. and you woke up about 45 minutes ago. you were startled awake by matt screaming at chris for something, presumably something on the game they were playing, chained together. 

“okay, matt, im sick of this! can we play something else?” chris shouts, annoyed

“like what?” matt asks, groaning

“whats that game we used to play with justin? the escape room?” chris rambles, continuing on about how hes gonna text their older brother 

“okay, you get it set up, im getting water.” with that, matt turns his camera and microphone off, turning to you

you look at him with tired, sympathetic puppy eyes 

“you woke me up” you grumble, rubbing your eyes 

“im sorry baby” he whispers, walking over to the bed, wrapping you in a tight hug

“can i sit with you?” you murmur, clinging to your boyfriend 

“im playing the game, pretty. wanna sit near me?” 

thats when a smile crept up on your face, pulling away from the hug

“can i sit under the desk? its cozy down there, and im cold. the heaters right under your desk, matty.” 

“under the desk?” he questions, smiling “okay, sure. you can sit under the desk” 

you pull away from the hug, taking your blanket with you, crawling to sit under the desk. within a few minutes, matt comes back with 2 bottles of water, one for him and one for you. he turns the mic and camera back on, eventually joining the game with chris, going back to streaming and playing the online escape room. 

you rested your head on his thigh, your fingers gently toying with the strings of his sweatpants, periodically brushing your fingertips over where his dick would be. a few minutes later, you noticed a tent in his pants growing, and you smirked. 

you lift your head, repositioning your body on your knees, between his thighs. you stare up at him, smiling as you gently start undoing the strings of his sweatpants. 

as if on queue, he slams down on his keyboard, chris shouting

“matt! whered you go, what happened to your camera?” 

“uh, i dunno. must be something with your computer? i can still see me” he lies, looking down at you between his legs “can chat see me?” 

and immediately, chat floods with the answer: no. 

he smirks, his microphone still on as he gently lifts his hips, allowing you to pull down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing free and hitting your stomach. 

you smile, looking up at him as he continues to play the game. you take ahold of his cock, gently stroking him up and down, your eyes locked on his face as he clenches his jaw, still playing the game. 

you continue gently stroking him, periodically kitten licking his tip. each time, he slightly hisses, playing it off as doing something wrong in the game whenever chris asked. 

you stroke him a bit faster, his breathing getting more heavy and rapid, ending up in him shouting something out. 

“give me- give me head!” he shouts, his hand immediately flying to his mouth, eyes widening when he realizes he has the perfect opportunity to play it off. 

“chris, give me the statue head!” he states, looking down at you as you slowly wrap your lips around his tip, throwing his head back 

you begin to bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip. 

he continues playing his game, one of his hands finding its way to your head, gathering your hair and clutching it, tightening his grip as you continue to bob your head, bringing him closer to his release. 

after some more bobs and gags, he nearly rips out your hair as he slams the microphone off, throwing his head back. 

“fuck, baby, m’so close. keep goin’.. yeahhh, just like that” he rambles, his eyes slammed shut 

“im cummin’, baby, fuck im cummin’” he mutters, his jaw slack as he shoots his warm release down your throat, bringing you to stop your movements. 

you smile, pulling off of him and swallow, wiping your bottom lip and staring at him. he reaches down, brushing his thumb over your cheek and gently pulling you up 

“youre fuckin’ gorgeous, baby. mine. my pretty girl.” he mutters, gently pecking your lips and pulling you onto his lap. 

you curl up into him, resting your head on his chest as he turns his microphone and camera back on 

“matt! there you are! whered you go?” chris shouts once his brother returns 

“sorry, man, something was happening with my system. technology shit, y’know?” he smiles, rubbing small circles into your thigh with his thumb as he holds the controller in the other hand.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: im tired im going to sleep and scheduling this to post int he morning goodnight i love you all thank you for reading

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

⋆˙⟡ tags: @lvrsturniolo @marrykisskilled @mattscoquette @emely9274 @wh0remikasas @mattsstarlet @pvssychicken @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @jvngle18 @sturns-mermaid @mattslolita @lolastrniolo @55sturn @oliviasthatgirl @hannahsturns @dykes4chris @y3sterdaysproblem @bernardsbendystraws @sturns-mermaid

[edenspoem]

Um so wolves go into heat around winter an it got me thinking. Werewolf!ellie in heat absolutely RAILING reader

Im talking absolutely DESTROYING reader

She turn up at the door like "scissor tongitj?? Scissor tonight queen??? ✂️✂️"

♱|. . a/n: i'm supposed to be writing vampire smut.. but here we are! just need to get something out even if it's shitty (i'm also just sick and dgaf about perfectly writing a blurb).. i've also been listening to juno a lot so all i can think about is BREEDING. mdni.

werewolf!ellie panting at the corner of your cracked door—dark, ripped jeans, a crucible of sweat that clumps hairs to her forehead, shine to her skin—and she rushes a near nothing from her lips before the desperation could crawl out and eat you whole. if she quietened her own heart, she could catch yours pounding. “hey babe, fuckin' missed you. c'mere.” each syllable is accompanied by gusts of her gutsy—and almost visible to the cold—breath. its scent and heat bled through quickly. it poured over, into, and under her swooping fingertips, which had the back of your head snared and pulled into her mouth, eating your response with a whine she never intended to release.

the nature of your girlfriend isn't occultic to you; she drags you into her midnight realm and makes you feel like the worshipped moon. at this point, your brain tends to forget that she's even a werewolf to begin with, and eases in the penchant way she has with you: chasing you, loving hard, owning handfuls of your flesh that she lets spill and manipulate her senses. but, in the epicenter of this brutal winter—your first one together—you least expect a shirt to be shredded from your torso in one, hungry rip, tossed like ribbons on the floor and abandoned as you licked the nectary words dripping off her tongue. “wanna have a fuckin' baby with you.. ahah—shit, can i give you one?” she stumbled in giggles, so sweetly, and fumbled so pitifully with the rest of your clothes, you had to assist before something else was torn.

yeah, she can wear you out giving you 'one' any fuckin' day.

“miss me?” ellie clings, with nails that long to be sharp, into the small of your back. deep enough to bleed. it stung with a soft whimper inside your chest, “mhh—yes, ellie.” teeth collecting the sighed words from your lower lip.

she would rub her pussy against yours until it was throbbing raw, and her hips gave out. it did most times; from the wanton, the sheer letch to let loose, to give you something special—but if you whispered into a safekeeping, it would be about how she lets her hormones get the best of her. more so when your touch is involved. when your tired fingers trace the bushed mess that leads up her stomach in a thin, waning tornado-line, wrap your hand around and soothe her pelvis with pressure—she loses it.

“can't handle it at all, huh?” you pant, smiling at the fucked-out, glistening and red look on her face. her scarred brows tighten when your sticky thighs come into contact with an audible slap. it's her juices that coat you. “poor thing.”

ellie cups her own tit and rolls deeper into her straddle, you're not even sure she heard you; too lost in that midnight realm. but, if you're being honest, you're the one that can't handle it. human endurance has you beat for miles—she has to place your limp leg on her shoulder. “f-fuck..” she trembles. soon enough, the hairs covering her cunt are shining wet with her cum, and she can only hope that it takes. “thats it.. oh my god..” she leans into her nape, voice vibrating deep and hoarse in her chest. she looked like golden heaven, with her head hanging like that. though, her stamina will be the death of you: she lifts her head and starts hovering over you for more, hot breaths that felt cold in your used state fanning over your cheek. “gonna be a goddamn mama, babe. got more in me—if ya' wanna go again, hm?”

[bluem1lls]

HAIII :3 are u able to do a fic where the reader saves se-mi in the lights out and gets badly injured herself and almost died (BUT SHE LIVESSS)

✧₊⁺ we leave together

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: you knew a big fight was coming in between the x and circles. now all you want to do is find your girlfriend, but when you find her, about to be murdered, would you put your own life at risk to save her?

content: blood, nam-gyu dies here (oopsie), r! gets injured, se-mi gets injured too but shes alive!, fluff and blood basically

authors note: hii tysm for your request! i hope you like it!

"you see!" i screamed to min-su. "if she would've been smart, she'd be here with us" i said dragging him, looking for a place to hide. our breathing feeling heavy. "but no! she had to be cocky. i can take care of myself! blah blah" i said mocking her and pissed at the same time. fucking se-mi. she has me sick worried.

we knew there was gonna be a big war between circles and x, of course we knew. and what was the last thing i said to se-mi? this isn't over. don't you dare put yourself in danger. vote the circle and when the time actually comes, we both vote for x and we all leave.

but of course she is so stubborn she had to vote for x.

so while nam-gyu was trying to convince us all to follow him and thanos with their little "vote circle" campaing, i decided to go along with them for a little more. this people are stupid. it was just going to be a 'use them for one more day and then we're out'.

so when i voted circle, the hug nam-gyu gave me wasn't a surprise. but when min-su and se-mi voted for x, i knew by the look on nam-gyu and thanos face's that my girlfriend and min-su were in big trouble.

a few hours later, i lost se-mi out of sight but i reunited with min-su, who told me se-mi shouldn't be that far away.

as we kept looking for her, i told him to go to the tallest bed and look for her on top, maybe with a bigger view, we'd find her.

please. let me find her safe.

please.

i couldn't even see shit, the lights going on and off, people screaming and running one side to another, all i could hear were shoutings for help and spot some who i recognized, filled with bloody hands.

i got close to a corner and saw mi-su layed on top of the bed, trying to find se-mi.

"did you find her yet?" i shouted to him, looking all around.

he stared at me blankly.

"what the fuck are you thinking so much? have you or have you not seen her?" i said, already becoming desesperate. where the fuck was she?

shaking his head and with a look filled with fear, he told me he didnt.

"c-c-come here. upstairs. please." he begs me.

what the fuck? i looked at him, already becoming pissed with his coward behaviour.

"i'm gonna keep looking for her. thank's for your help.. i guess"

i turned around and just as i was getting to one of the steps to go further up and see if she was hidden in any of the bed placements, i heard a scream. min-su stares at me with fear and tries to reach for me.

i look at him in shock. he did find her. so why isn't he telling me where she is?

"are you kidding me min-su? where is she?" i scream at him as he stares at the floor undearneath him.

he's such a coward. i run as fast as i can while i hear him screaming to me. "please don't go, its dangerous. i-i-cant loose you bo-both." he says, his voice laced with desesperation.

fucking coward. but neither of us is dying tonight.

i ran around the bed, following her screams. i watch her struggle agains't nam-gyu. she's cornered against a wall and neither of them see me arrive. she moans in pain as i look at her bleeding shoulder.

i position myself behind nam-gyu, as se-mi sees me. her panicked face makes nam-gyu turn around, just when min-su drops a glass bottle that shatters in front of him.

i swear this guy is useless.

nam-gyu sees me and starts coming towards me.

"this is not your fight. im giving you a chance to get away" he grabs me from my shirt and pulls me close to him.

i chuckle, looking at him with hatred.

"you're hurting her. of course this is my fight. you don't get to touch her" i said, lifting my leg, kicking him in the nuts.

he falls to the ground as i scream se-mi to run. she gets out, rolling from one of the bed sides and as im turning to leave quickly with her, i feel a hand wrapped around my ankle that grabs me, making me fall to the floor, hitting my chin.

"you're a fucking dick" i shout as he gets on top of me.

i can hear se-mi screaming for me as she thought i was following her.

"you know what? i always thought you were so hot" nam-gyu says, his breath so close to my face that makes me wanna throw up. i feel a sharp pain on my side. l stare to find a big shard of glass, close to my hip.

motherfucker stabbed me.

i moan in pain as he smiles.

"get off her, piece of trash" se-mi says, grabbing and trying to get him off me. he yanks her hair and throws her on the floor besides me.

he grabs a fork and tries to stab her in the chest, but she moves and it hits her arm. she screams in pain and as i get up to grab him from behind, he removes the fork from her arm and stabs me with it on my cheek, making me let out a sharp scream from the pain.

if i get out of here. i'll kill him. i promise i will.

we're both on the floor injured as he stays on his feet between us. the fucker is stronger than us.

"let her fucking go, nam-gyu. you're pissed and i get it but just take it out on me" i said trying for him to look at me as his eyes are on se-mi, ready to kill her.

he gets close to me and kicks my stomach, making me cry. at the same time, he throws a harder kick to se-mi, who bends to grab her stomach.

he grabs a fist of her hair pulling her closer, an inch away from his face. se-mi's expression filled with pain.

"she's right. i am pissed. but do you know what's best than stabbing you to death?" he says grabbing her neck, leaving her almost without air as she tries to get him off. "stabbing your little girlfriend to death and making you watch"

he throws se-mi on the floor, making her hit her head.

he grabs a fist full of my hair and smashes my head against the ground one, two and three times.

i don't even need to touch to feel the blood that stains the floor.

he grabs the nearest thing to him, which is a big shard of glass and stabs me on the leg, on my stomach and on my chest. i can feel myself almost passing out from pain.

i'm slowly letting myself go as i can't even deal with the sharp wounds. from the corner, i see se-mi standing up to throw herself to nam-gyu. grabbing his hair, making him throw his head back and stabbing him on the neck with the fork he had.

she stabs him once, removes him from on top of me and keeps stabbing him until she's covered in his blood.

"you. dont. get. to. touch. her" she screams, stabbing him again and again, a pool of blood begins to form around nam-gyu lifeless corpse.

i try to cover my bleeding wounds. with a weak voice, i call her. a soft mumble leaves my mouth. "se-mi..pl-please" that she, somehow, hears in the middle of all the shoutings.

she stares at him, checking that he's really dead.

se-mi stands up and comes close to me, her stare now filled with guilt and fear as she watches my bleeding wounds. she kneels besides me, her hands on my chest and stomach, where the bigger stabs are.

"hey, you're gonna be okay" she says, her voice trembling. "you dont get to leave me here alone, we get out of here together. you t-t-old me that okay? together." i can feel a few of her tears land into my face as i get colder.

"we need help. p-please someone!" she shouts.

i see a few people hiding on the bed close to us. one of them getting out and coming towards us. i recognize him as dae-ho.

he's quick to grab a blanket, break a piece of the fabric and bring some water to clean my wounds, pressing to stop the bleeding.

"one time my sister suffered a big injure and i was in charge. i learned about this. you're gonna be okay. i promise" he says, softly moving se-mi aside to make space as he also calls a lady who used to be a nurse. both ready to cure my wounds with what they had on hand.

i can see the lights turning on, followed by shouting, probably the guards came in to stop this.

i place myself on my elbows, staring at se-mi.

she's covered in blood, her shoulder keeps bleeding and i can see in her stare she's still filled with fear. she bends besides me, cupping my face on her hands.

"i can't lose you" she says, placing a soft kiss, almost a peck, on my lips.

"you're not losing me." i say with a weak voice, replying to her kiss. "i can't leave you alone. what if you get out of here and move on? i'd have to haunt you and your new girlfriend and that's no fun" i say with a smile as she chuckles and kisses me again.

"i was so scared. almost dying was.. fucked. but you dying on my arms? i c-cant even t-think about that-" she spoke, closing her eyes as her mind kept repeating the image of me on the ground, filled with blood.

"you don't have to think about that anymore. i'm okay and i'm with you" i said, caressing her hands as she nods and places a kiss on my cheek.

she stares at me, a look filled with love. she presses a kiss on my forehead.

"we leave this place together. i promise".