🎐 ‧ ₊˚ 𓏸 .⋆ ·ฺ⁺˚ 𓇼 𓂂 🫧

𝟣9| 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 + 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 | 𝓌𝓁𝓌 | 𝒫𝒪𝒞

[ciyl]

┊ 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓜𝔂 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓰 ┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁⋆⋆.☘︎˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆𝜗𝜚 ˚₊˚⊹♡ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁⋆⋆.☘︎˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆𝜗𝜚 ˚₊˚⊹♡

*ೃ༄ 𝒫𝓊𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜 𝑅𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 | 𝒫𝒪𝒞

*ೃ༄ 𝐼 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽

*ೃ༄ 𝟣9 | 𝓌𝓁𝓌 | 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 | 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 + 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇

*ೃ༄ 𝑀𝓎 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉

*ೃ༄ writing acc: @m3ylsv10gz

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁⋆⋆.☘︎˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆𝜗𝜚 ˚₊˚⊹♡ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁⋆⋆.☘︎˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆𝜗𝜚 ˚₊˚⊹♡

!! men + minors + pedos + zionists + terf and racists will be blocked !!

[wombrion]

very old madoka things

[germechart]

[ravenousdoll]

i have nothing respectful to say

[sashasinfully]

Sevika x fem reader

SHOP TALK

warnings: 18+, nsfw, pussy eating (Sev receiving) , dom/sub dynamics, masturbation, mechanic!Sev

a/n: hi everyone! this will be my last post until the 30th (when I get back home). see you soon! -this isn’t proofed, sorry if there’s any mistakes-

Part 2 ( A Week on Delivered)

The hints have been obvious for weeks now, almost theatrical in their consistency. Every “mystery rattle,” every “weird noise,” every dramatically inconvenient breakdown has somehow delivered you back to this same greasy garage.

Today you lean into the bit on purpose.

You're dressed to kill: a tiny mini skirt that barely covers your ass and a tight tank top that plunges low, your cleavage spilling out invitingly as you step out of the uber.

The shop smells of oil and rubber, tools clanging in the background. 

You spot Sevika bent over an engine block, her broad back straining against her grease-stained shirt, pants hugging her powerful thighs. 

She straightens up as you approach, wiping her hand on a rag, her expression neutral at first.

"Car's ready," she says curtly, nodding toward the bay where your vehicle sits. 

Her eyes flick over you briefly—hovering just a second on your exposed skin—before she turns back to her work.

You lean against the cluttered workbench behind you, crossing your arms to push your breasts up even more. 

"Thanks, Sevika.” You say, letting your voice drip a little honey. “You make it look easy. Watching you handle those tools... makes a girl wonder what else those hands can fix."

She pauses, then turns fully to face you, rag dangling from her fingers, one brow arching. 

"You've been real persistent, haven't you? Coming in here every other week with some 'issue,' teasing me." She says dryly.

Heat floods your cheeks, but you play it cool, stepping closer, your hips swaying. "Maybe I just like the service. Or the view. You're hard to resist."

Sevika studies you, something amused glinting behind her eyes. The corner of her mouth twitches before she lets a slow grin settle in.

“You’ve got a very expensive way of flirting," she says, rolling her shoulders once. 

Yeah, no shit. 

One call and everything could be fixed at once, no more trips back and forth, no more excuses. But then… no more watching her work, no more stealing these small moments of attention. Somehow, that makes the trouble worth it.

You tilt your head, letting your hips sway as you circle half a step around her. 

“Is that bad?” you ask lightly.

Her gaze tracks you like a hawk following prey across an open field.

After a moment, she jerks her chin toward a narrow door at the back of the garage. The wood is chipped, paint peeling, and a faded “OFFICE” sign hangs crooked above it.

“Come on. Paperwork’s in the back.”

The “office” is barely that: a cramped square of a room stuffed with clutter. 

A battered desk sits beneath a dusty window, a rolling chair behind it that looks older than both of you. Papers sprawl in chaotic piles, mixed with loose bolts, spare parts, and half-empty coffee cups. A small fan rattles in the corner, doing its best against the heat.

She drops into the chair, legs spread wide, and gestures for you to close the door. It shuts with a crisp click behind you.

Sevika swivels slightly, dragging a thick clipboard out from beneath a teetering stack of invoices. Pages whisper as she flips to the last sheet, tapping the signature line with a blunt nail.

“Sign here.” She slides the clipboard across the desk toward you, a pen already clipped to the top.

You step closer and let out a quiet sigh, fingers brushing against the pen as you take it. The air shifts from charged to strangely ordinary. 

Your eyes flick to her, relaxed and unbothered.

So this is it, a thought skims through you, cool and quick. All that flirting, all those excuses, and it lands on a liability form.

You scribble your name, the scratch of the pen loud in the small space, and slide the clipboard back. 

Only then does Sevika lift her gaze to you— metal fingers curling idly against her thigh.

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, that mechanical arm whirring softly as she flexes it. 

Her voice drops low. "Get on your knees."

You freeze, blinking at her in confusion. Is she serious? Your mouth opens, but no words come out, a mix of surprise and arousal swirling in your gut.

Sevika exhales, impatience flashing in her eyes. Her hand shoots out and clamps around your wrist.

She tugs you forward, drawing you off balance —  at the same time, the toe of her boot presses against the front of your foot, nudging it back just enough to make you stumble. The power in her hold sends a thrill straight to your core.

She releases your arm to unbuckle her belt, shoving her pants down her thighs in one rough motion. 

Her legs part wider, exposing her pussy—dark hair framing glistening lips that make your mouth water instantly. You're transfixed, heat pooling between your own thighs at the sight.

“I’ve been wound too tight all damn day. You’re going to help me with that.” Sevika murmurs, her tone laced with smug satisfaction. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your breath hitching ever so slightly.

Your eyes lift to hers, those piercing grey depths holding you captive as you lean in slowly, never breaking contact. Your tongue darts out, tracing a hot path up her inner thigh, teeth skimming the firm muscle. 

Sevika tenses under your mouth, a subtle flex of power, and she bites her lower lip, watching you.

You move higher, your breath ghosting over her folds before your lips seal around her pussy. You suck gently at first, tongue delving into her wet heat, lapping at the slick essence that coats your mouth. 

You moan softly against her, losing yourself in the act.

Sevika's leg twitches at the first contact, her lips parting with a soft exhale, a small smile curling the edges of her mouth. For a moment, she’s still unreadable, quiet, and the space between your breaths starts to feel fragile.

A flicker of uncertainty brushes through you — not panic, just that thin edge of are you doing this right?

You ease back just enough to look up, and whatever doubt you had evaporates in an instant.

Her metal hand claws into the arm of the chair, fingers grinding audibly against the wood. Her head is thrown back, chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged bursts.

You pause, savoring the evidence of your effect on her. 

Sevika's eyes crack open slowly, locking onto yours. She rolls them with exaggerated annoyance, but the desire that’s there as well is undeniable. 

"What are you looking at?" she grates, her voice rough. Her hand tangles in your hair, pulling your lips firmly off her pussy.

"Stick your tongue out," she orders, breath hitching slightly.

You obey instantly, extending your tongue flat and waiting, heart pounding. Sevika shifts her hips forward, guiding her clit directly over your waiting mouth. 

She rolls her hips in a slow grind, rubbing her swollen nub back and forth, coating your tongue in her arousal. 

It's filthy, the way she uses you like this—and so fucking hot. Her eyes hood with lust as she stares down.

Her lips part again, a deep groan slipping out as she picks up the pace. 

Unable to hold back, you slide your hand under your skirt, pushing aside your soaked panties to rub frantic circles over your own clit. A ripple of pleasure dances along your nerves, making you gasp.

Sevika notices immediately, her gaze dropping to your wrist. 

"Dirty girl," she rasps, her voice cracking at the end. 

She hisses through her teeth grinding harder, faster, her pussy smearing across your tongue. "Fuck, you're making me—I'm about to cum."

Her groans deepen, breaths coming in harsh pants. Her mouth hangs open, nostrils flaring, hips stuttering erratically as she chases release. 

As her pleasure crests, it pulls you past the edge, your fingers pressing harder as you cum with a muffled moan, body shuddering.

You struggle to keep your tongue extended, waves of pleasure making your thighs quake.

Sevika snarls, "Oh shit," her eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing in ecstasy. Her mouth gapes as she cums, her juices coating your mouth.

Greedy for more, you latch onto her clit, sucking hard. 

Her thighs snap shut around your head like a vice, trapping you as she bends forward with a loud, guttural groan. Her bush presses against your nose, the coarse hairs tickling as you inhale her scent. 

"Oh my—fucking—" she growls through clenched teeth, her body trembling.

Finally, she eases back, releasing your head with a shaky exhale. Her chest heaves, sweat glistening on her forehead. 

That grin returns, satisfied, as she reaches over to her desk, snagging a pen and scrap of paper. She scribbles something quickly, then hands it to you—her cell number scrawled in bold strokes.

“Next time… I can show you exactly what these hands can fix.”

[totallymentallyokayyipee]

Nothing You Ever Wanted Before

Modern AU - Divorced Older!Sevika x Older! Reader

Chapter 7 - Sovenance

This chapter will contain: modern au, second-chance romance, reader is 49, sevika is 54, 5-year age gap, post break-up, post divorce, oc daughter, oc son-in-law, unrealistic, awkwardness, she/her pronouns for reader, smut, pet names (doll), slight mention of body insecurity.

MDNI, there is smut in this chapter.

Chapter Navigation

Originally posted on AO3 (totallymentallyokayyipee)! Read all the full tags there!

WC: ~4k

Author's Note Below the Cut!

there will be smut later on in the chapter, just fyi (oral sex, fingering, nothing too insane teehee, im still practicing lol). >> theres gotta be a better way for them to communicate tbh 😭

“Mom, wake up!” Rose exclaimed over your face, the smell of morning coffee striking your senses. She softly nudged, well, hit you with a couch pillow playfully and you sat up. 

“I’m up, I’m up.” You stretched your arms above your head, the sunlight from those huge ass windows strained your sight. “Morning, Rose.” 

“We’re going out tonight!” 

“What do you mean?” You asked, blinking back drowsiness. 

“We have a reservation later this evening.” She said. You saw the excitement painted on her face when she was so desperately trying to help you out of your monotonous slump of a life, so you nodded and promised you would put on your best outfit then. She went on about how you’d like the food and atmosphere there, heading to the kitchen to give you a cup of coffee. Or tea. You didn’t know. Either way, it was too early to process anything. 

Sevika soon entered the living room as well, not meeting your eyes whatsoever, but greeted and talked to Rose like it was just another day, having ignored you since after dinner last night. 

You glared at her and took the opportunity to slip into her room and bathroom to brush your teeth and fix yourself up. You came out, and Sevika was drinking coffee the way she liked it, sitting at the counter. 

You passed by her without a word, trying to show that you were better than hert—that you could live without her, just like how you had been doing for the past ten or so years. When she clocked your presence, Sevika grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and left without another word to the hotel’s gym. 

Rose made a joke, but you were too wrapped up in your spite to respond with your best self, so you didn’t. 

“Hey, Rose?” 

“What is it?”

“How long have you had your mama’s number?” 

“Not long. I think we traded info when she showed up to my graduation and she’s been keeping me updated ever since!” She ran up to you, unlocking her phone and heading straight to the messages app. “Here, look.” You hoped Sevika wouldn’t be too pissed with Rose’s actions, but oh well. 

She scrolled up to show some messages of birthday greetings back and forth when Rose was in college, and invitations to events Sevika couldn’t make, good mornings and the happiest of new years.

“We don’t talk much, but we greet each other when we can.” She soon reached the end of the messages where it dated all the way back to her high school graduation day. 

“Mama never forgot my birthday, or yours, to be exact. She respected your wishes and kept no-contact.” 

You were dumbfounded. You had sorted through all your faults and lapses in judgement that have occurred during your life with Sevika. But you only were beginning to realize how much she bettered herself for the sake of her daughter. 

“Rose…” You swore you wouldn’t get that emotional during this big change in your life, hormone-wise, but you broke that vow long before you stepped foot in this hotel room. You were astonished that she kept her word all these years. 

“Mom.” Rose sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

Damn it, you were supposed to be her mother, you were the one who was supposed to dry your daughter’s tears, but in the end, she prevailed as one more mature than anyone else in the room. 

“Rose, I’ve been such a, well, excuse my language, dumbass for staying bitter.” You still held your dam of feelings in tact that wanted to burst. 

“Aw, mom.” She then pulled you into a hug, keeping you there for a while. “You didn’t know.” 

𓆩:*¨༺✧ ⚜ ✧༻¨*:𓆪

When Sevika came through the door again, you were still sitting at the kitchen island, and Rose greeted her and waved. Sevika held a hand up in response as she chugged the remainder of her water. 

You quickly regained your composure as soon as you heard the hinges creak, trying to avoid any confrontation or questioning from Sevika, if she ever did choose to talk to you at this point in time. 

But she didn’t spare a glance and went over to her room to start her shower, all sweaty and muscles more defined than ever. 

You wished in that moment she knew how sorry you felt and your efforts to try to bandage the rift between you. Or, she took your silence and overall cattiness during the whole trip so far as some sort of ploy to show the resentment you still harbored. 

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Rose gave you a reassuring look. 

“You dragged me here on purpose.” It took an embarrassingly long time for you to figure the whole picture out—it wasn’t some accident that Sevika was invited on a whim, she had plotted this from the beginning. 

“And?” 

“I’ll fix it. My relationship with Sevika. If she’s willing to accept my apology, that is.” You knew words wouldn’t fix anything alone. Just like Sevika proved she could make it up to her family, you could prove something too. But being civil was one thing, reconciling was another.

Then, an astounding idea rushed through your head. 

“You and Edward go to that restaurant. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll stay here with Sevika, see if I can talk to her again.” You put a hand to shield the side of your mouth, as if people were around you two. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but your mama smokes on the balcony when she’s thinking too much. I’m sure she’ll be back there tonight.” 

“I see. I’ll go call the restaurant and let them know.” She pulled her phone out. You strove to make your daughter know that you were actively making an effort. 

“We might need some space so she could really open up.” Although unsure that it would work, talking to her again wouldn’t hurt. 

“Got it.” 

“You know I love you, Rose.” 

“Love you too, mom.” 

𓆩:*¨༺✧ ⚜ ✧༻¨*:𓆪

After a mother-daughter walk on the busy avenue by the beach, leisurely picking out souvenirs from the many stands, you came home to kick back. Rose let you use her room’s bathroom for now, as you didn’t want to bother Sevika. 

Later, you helped finger coil Rose’s defined curls tighter as she got ready in her bathroom’s mirror. The door to her bedroom itself was wide open, where Sevika came in and asked to borrow something. 

“Hey kid, where’d the extra keycard go—?” She paused, seeing you do her hair and Rose, sitting on a fancy stool, looking a little guilty, as if she was caught doing something bad. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Out.” 

“Why?” 

“Oh, come on, Sevika. At least she asked me.” You interrupted sarcastically. Rose turned around and faced her mother. 

“Mama, Edward and I had this really fancy dinner reservation we’ve been dying to go to for months, and tonight’s the night!” She didn’t lie entirely, just omitted some information here and there. 

Sevike ultimately relented. You were right. She never had the opportunity to see Rose for the remainder of her teenage years, sneaking out and being a complete party animal. Normal teenage rebellion things.

You finally finished her hair after drying and styling. Sevika watched it all. And you organized it to fall neatly down her shoulders. “Beautiful.” You stared endearingly at your daughter as she smiled in the mirror. “Ed’s waiting for you.” 

She left with her bag, said her goodbyes to you and Sevika. 

When the front door shut, it was now just the two of you. 

She had one hand leaning against the doorframe, looking curious. 

“Awfully early for them to be going out to dinner, you know.” 

“It’s quite the walk away.” You airily sighed and began to clean up the scattered out products of Rose’s that were on the counter. “Young love.” 

“Reminds me of when we always did her hair together when she was little.” She still refused to look at you. But this was your chance, you could use her nostalgia to try to leeway into your apology. 

“Yeah. I remember that too. Well, she’s all grown up now. Happy that we’re still close.” 

Sevika nodded. “Glad she stayed in contact with me. If it weren’t for that, I’d think she grew up hating me.” 

“I saw your messages to her.” You finally zipped the bag shut and turned to face her. 

“Oh yeah?” She quirked an eyebrow. “What about them? Angry we still talked?” 

“No, happy.” You shook your head. 

Her eyes finally made contact with yours. Finally. 

“When she came to me in regards to her wedding, she was really ecstatic in inviting you. How could I refuse?” Your heart pounded in your chest. “I’m assuming that petty argument I started earlier is over?” 

She smiled, horribly hiding it and then waved a hand in dismissal. “I guess we could call a truce for now.” 

“A truce? Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it now.” 

Shit, she was really starting to tug at your heartstrings. Your mouth became dry, and your limbs began to feel light, unreal. 

“I’ve given you enough silent treatment for now,” Smirking, Sevika then moved out of the bathroom and sat on the footstool by the bed. “You played right into my trap.” 

“So you freakin’ played me?!” You rushed up to Sevika out of the bathroom. “Wow, I see how it is. You really had me scared that you were mad for real.” You sighed and sat on the bed, next to her. It was almost as if a weight was slowly beginning to lift off from your chest. 

“Who said I wasn’t?” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

She shook her head with a smile. “Besides that, we gotta keep it together for the sake of Rose.” 

“And Edward.” 

“That lanky kid?” She added and you laughed lightly, feeling as if this vacation was beginning to take a turn for the better. 

She took her pack of smokes and headed to the balcony in the living room.

But she only ever smoked outside alone, pensive and quiet, when something was on her mind. So there must’ve been another reason as to why she was so bothered earlier (you were more bothered than her in reality).

𓆩:*¨༺✧ ⚜ ✧༻¨*:𓆪

“What’re you watching?” The sun started to lower in the sky, you fell into the cushion on the opposite side of the couch. Rose and Edward weren’t back yet. Rose texted you that they’d be back a little later. You appeared behind the couch, going around it to sit by Sevika, with a little space of course. 

“Nothing interesting here.” She finally switched off the TV in the living room and faced you. “What brings you here?” As if there was any other place to go in the suite that would actively avoid Sevika. 

“What? I can’t hang out with you anymore?” You jokingly bantered. But the both of you knew how heavy those words felt on your tongue.

“No.” She shook her head. “But you want something, don’t you?” She knew you so well. 

“I just wanted to properly apologize, Sevika. For last night.” 

“No need to. You’ve stressed yourself out enough.” Wow. The switch-up was crazy.

Your eyes darted down to her lips, and she noticed. She only broke your state of mind when she gave you that look—intrigued. 

“No, really. I hope it comes across as sincere, ‘Vika—Sevika.” You slipped. You let her old pet name slip out from your mouth, and in a flash, you hunched over, putting your head in your hands and covering your face, mumbling apologies on impulse. You thought you were through with all the hurt and turmoil. 

And amidst all that, she crossed the couch, crossed the imaginary barrier you intrinsically hoped she would cross. She guided you to face her again, whispered something you couldn’t even discern. 

And then—and only then—did your lips meet once more. Warm, supple lips with a hint of booze on them. 

Ten long fucking years. 

You missed the sensation. 

It was on impulse. Like some magnetic force, you pulled towards each other.

“Are you done with your ramblin’? No need to drag it out.” It was clear that she was amused by your actions, and couldn’t help but to tease you further. She was sitting right next to you know, head resting on her propped-up arm on the back of the couch. 

“Sevika…” You whispered beneath your breath, more confused than entranced, trying to suppress the heat growing inside of you. You’re an adult. Power through and communicate. “We’re just going to forget that happened?” 

“Do you want to forget?” 

You thought about it—thought about taking a few moments and sort through it rationally, and then you had to blurt out one of the best-worst decisions of your life. 

“No.” 

“Then that settles it. Don’t.” 

You pondered for a moment, shifted in your seat before you blurted out, “I missed the feeling.” 

She was silent. But she looked like she wanted to stay here, with you. 

Hesitantly, you asked, “Can we do it again?” 

And she obliged, leaning in again to capture your lips slower, and you exhaled into the kiss. You tilted your head to the side and shifted forward, placing your hands on both her flesh and prosthetic bicep. It was slow at first, she was careful with you. But she could only restrain herself for so long.

Your increasingly audible breaths filled the room as you closed your eyes, tongues wet, and made out with passionate fury that was the result of burying the feeling and keeping it out of mind. It took a moment for you to readjust to the feeling. 

Her sweet caress down starting from the nape of your neck to the lower part of your back only pressed you into her more. You were wrapped up in each other, practically grinding for some semblance of friction on your needy bodies. Your kissing got sloppier. Your tongues danced out of time. 

She groaned into your mouth, the low sound making you shiver from the sheer thrill of the circumstances. When you pulled away, your eyelids hung low, and you wanted to immediately dive in once again. 

Your hands instinctually trailed down her chest and to her abdomen. When you asked if you could go further, she looked at you with half-lidded eyes and said, 

“We’ll need more room, doll.” 

She brought you to her bed. Led you down the hallway to her room, slippers shuffling, desirous steps and eager movements. She held your hand and guided you there, but the grip was surprisingly loose, and your hand would drop if you didn’t support it yourself, almost as if she was giving you an out, a chance to escape from what the two of you so desperately wanted. 

But you didn’t back out. You shut the door behind you, and Sevika turned off the lamp in the corner. Even when the modern-ish hotel room was so cold without light, the warmth both of your bodies brought it made it a fading thought. The little light from behind the curtains would suffice.

It had been a decade for you, so who knew how long Sevika had gone without someone else’s touch? Surely it hasn’t been nearly as long as you. Come on, the look of her alone could have women on their knees if only she said the word. 

And like an otherworldly force, you knelt on the sheets and kissed again, sloppy and saliva-filled. Your face grew hotter by the second. You ran a hand along the softness of her undercut, and up to her scalp, threading your fingers in with her soft locks of hair.

Your noses brushed, but you couldn’t get close enough. You moaned, letting almost all your self-restraint free. 

“Fuck, sorry.” You panted as you pulled away. 

“Language.” She teased, which made you smile. Sevika then tugged the bottom of your shirt, eager to pull it up. “Can I?” You enthusiastically nodded and took it off of you with deft hands, revealing the bra that was keeping your breasts from her. She went to take it off you, reaching for the hook behind you, but you grabbed her hand, last-minute hesitation overtaking you. 

“Wait.” She paused at your words, retracting her hand. “Just so you know…” You swallowed. “I’m not the same—I don’t look the same.” 

She smiled sheepishly, one of the only cracks in her exterior she let you see again this whole trip. “I want to learn this version of you, too.” Her words went straight down to your core. You then allowed her to unhook your bra one-handedly, leaving you in slight astonishment, eyes slightly widening as the air hit your chest, nipples hardening.

“How many ladies have you done this to so far?” You were only joking of course. 

“None, if that helps you in any way.” 

“What?” You paused. Did she really not turn to anyone after everything that happened? As hot as she was?

“You heard me.” Sevika ran a hand through her hair as she tossed your bra to the side, somewhere off into the distance, not that you cared about it much. 

A new job, raising a teenager, and trying to get by didn’t leave much room for you to fully explore your social life again, much less for romance. Did Sevika feel the same way? Did she not have the time to jump back into seeing someone again, or did she still want you? 

She pulled you in close, letting your legs cradle her hips. You rolled your hips on Sevika’s pelvis, in turn, she gripped your ass and pulled you in even closer. The two of your bodies moved in tandem with your wet mouths, needy sighs and promises packed the hot room. Your arms went around her neck. 

She smelled like the same shampoo she’d use over years, redolent of your close nights and even closer bodies together.

You let her lay you down comfortably on a pillow, tracing and lightly groping your bare chest, making up for lost time. 

She met you at your level, hovered over you, leaned in for another chaste kiss on your wanting lips. The rush was impeccable, a high you wanted to ride for the rest of your days. She kissed down the column of your throat. Sucked a stinging mark onto your breast. 

You closed your eyes in pleasure. Then, she slid down your bottoms, leaving you only in your underwear. She positioned herself between your legs and then looked up at you. 

“Please…” 

“Please what?” She feigned a tone of sincerity, something she’d always do when she had the upper hand. 

“I wanna feel your tongue.” You writhed as she parted your legs, hand smoothing over your skin, depriving you of where you ached for her touch the most. She lit every nerve alight as you allowed your body to her once more.  

When Sevika licked a stripe up your clothed cunt, you just about went crazy. “Mmph!” She wound you up, and you would sound it out for her.

Another lick. You tried to close your legs, but Sevika held them open, her strength overpowering yours. She put her lips on your underwear and sucked on your pussy, making you want to grind into her mouth, thighs trembling. God, it had been so long since you felt this way.

She took her face away from you and in exchange, she looked up at you, hands tracing the waistband of your panties, asking if it was okay. 

“Please—touch me.” You were just as eager as her. 

With a longing and unquenchable thirst in her eyes, she slid your underwear down your legs until it hit your ankles. Leaving it dangling from one, she dove in again, and you could feel just about everything. 

And with a calloused finger, she gently rubbed your throbbing bud, eliciting a gasp from you. You weren’t opposed to it, though. You missed the feeling of her warmth pressed right up close to you. Lewd sounds filled the hotel room, and she couldn’t help but to squish your thighs in her hands as she devoured your wetness. 

But she was careful. More careful than you remembered. 

You quivered, trying to prolong the feeling as much as possible. “Sev…ika…” You whined out her name, your chest heaving faster, your mind rushing as she stayed at a pace that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. 

Your climax hit, and you bucked your hips into Sevika’s mouth, but she was unrelenting until she was sure you were fully satisfied. Pleasure rippled throughout your body as you closed your eyes. Your hands could only grip so hard on the sheets before you fell back into a relaxed state back onto the cushioning of the bed.

As you came down from your orgasm, she came back up to your side, held your jaw gently in the rough of her hand, and pulled you closer, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue. It was so hot. 

Her hand automatically drifted down to your breasts, teasing the bud with her thumb. You were still so sensitive after that mind-blowing orgasm, though she enticed you, riled you up again. 

You weren’t going to let her get away with it.

Sweat was beginning to form on both of your bodies. You sat up and pushed Sevika back by her shoulders, head hitting the pillow. She was the only clothed one here, so you ran your hands beneath her shirt, feeling her solid stomach, taking in her divine skin and feeling of her happy trail just shy of her waistband. 

You licked your lips. “Can I?” You mimicked her tone from earlier. It was your turn to give back.

“Of course, doll.” 

You lifted up her shirt and bra, exposing her to the air. You took in her form, immediately diving in to suck onto one of her nipples. With the newfound sensation, she stifled a groan. You almost forgot how just feeling her breasts up could turn her into a mess. You licked in circles, savoring the taste of her skin.

When you pulled your wet mouth away with a salacious pop, you ran your hands down her happy trail, wanting nothing more to hear her voice. 

You then slid down her bottoms and boxers, figuring that you were too impatient to tease, and you ran your fingers through the dark hair on her mound. She had helped you out, and you were simply returning the favor. 

Sevika’s hand went to interlace her digits in your hair to find something, anything to hold on to. The pleasurable burn translated well into you, as it gave you all the more reason to take care of her. 

Like she did, you trailed kisses down her body, all the way to her pussy. You kissed it, inhaling all her arousal for you. You felt her twitch in your mouth, so you lubricated her hole with your saliva, couldn’t help but to dip your tongue in. 

Her grip on your hair tightened, but you were too eager to taste her. You adjusted your position until you were comfortable and began licking her in slow movements. It was glorious, almost as if you had a taste of heaven itself. You could not resist dipping a finger into her hole. She was unbelievably tight, and she clenched the moment she felt your fingers. 

Even though your patterns were a little staggered, and you often needed to check in to see if you were doing alright, you ate her out with vigor. You were just getting the hang of it again, just as she did earlier. But the sensations from you made her draw closer and closer to the edge, faster than either of you expected. 

Sevika cradled your head in her hand, muscles contracting as she came into your mouth, her solid thighs encasing your head between them. She used her mechanical one to poorly attempt to cover up her noises. 

When she finally relaxed, you asked with a newfound glimmer in your eyes from between her legs, “How was I?” 

“Unbelievable, doll.” She panted, giving you a view of her hot tooth gap and fucked-out face. 

The both of you were beginning to resume your regular pace—but nothing could erase the fact that these newer, older, versions of yourselves carried much more baggage than just lustful thoughts.

[miffyscakes]

just like catnip

part one 𑄝 part two (work in progress)

batman! sevika x catwoman! reader

synopsis: people often speak of how long a game of cat and mouse can be, but nobody speaks of the tension that builds between the two players

warnings: suggestive content, batman (batwoman)! sevika, catwoman! reader, dc comics au, she/her used on reader, superman (supernova)! vi, lois lane/journalist! caitlyn, oracle (calamity)! jinx, nightwing! ekko (NOT DICKBABS), robin! Isha, red hood! mylo, red robin! claggor, wonder woman! mel

word count: 4.0k

a/n: did the pirate sev win the poll? yes, but i wanna do this

The Dark Knight.

The Feline Fatale.

Two sides of the same coin.

Both wish to make Gotham a better place. One in which there is no need for suffering. But just because two people have the same coin does not mean that they are the same.

While one is within the shadows, the other is what the shadows themselves are made of.

One is sly and relies on her charm to get what she wants.

And the other uses her pure brute to instill fear in those around her.

Two different tactics, with similar goals. And with two upbringings that have brought them to where they are today.

After an incident that had led to the early passing of your parents, you had been thrown around in the foster care system within the horrid city you call home. During your time in the system, you had seen it all: the beautiful, the ugly, and the disturbing. And within each home, you had felt out of place.

Invisible almost.

The only person—or, living thing—that you had been able to find comfort in was the stray cats of Gotham. While you hardly had much to feed yourself, you had somehow always found a way to provide for the feline drifters of the city.

And despite you not knowing their names, and them not knowing yours, you all seemed to have an unspoken agreement of trust.

You had carried that sense of alienation with you into adulthood. Which is what motivated you to participate in your current predicament. You're typically more careful, but there seemed to be some form of a secret alarm that you hadn't caught onto.

You sneak between the shadows, the deafening alarms crammed between every space of the mansion that had the pleasure of your late-night one-person rendezvous. As you sneak through a window, the alarm's piercing sound becomes faint.

The feeling of the wind in your face as you jump from building to building is relaxing, almost, and you feel proud of the current state of the haul you've configured from your little visit. When you find yourself on the comfort of the rooftop on one of Gotham's many buildings, you finally take a breather.

"Finally," you mumble to yourself. The sound of Gotham's police department can be heard rushing to the mansion you had just visited. You giggle to yourself, their tardiness entertaining. "Idiots," you chuckle.

Before you can even search through your haul, you feel an ominous—yet, familiar—presence lingering close behind you.

“There’s my darling,” you chuckle, your mockery impossible so apparent that even a fool could hardly ignore it. “I was waiting for you.”

“Catwoman,” the figure behind you speaks, her rough voice exciting you in a way that you’ve found yourself feeling euphoric over.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, vengeance,” you giggle, turning around to finally face the shadowed figure that’s haunted your every move. “A lady like me deserves a real date.”

“I’m not in the mood for this right now,” she grumbles.

“Awe, come on Batsy,” you purr. “Loosen up a bit, hm?” The woman in front of you grabs out her infamous grapple gun, and you roll your eyes at the sight of it.

“How many times are you going to waste time using that on me—“ Your mockery gets cut short, your body quickly being dragged close towards the figure forcefully. “Look at that, you actually got me that time.”

“You need to stop doing this,” she says, her voice dropping an octave lower. “What do you gain from—“

You press a finger up to her lips. “Batwoman, when have your little lectures ever worked on me?” You giggle, wriggling free from the restraints that kept you close to her. “I’ll see you next time,” you say, blowing a kiss to the woman before seemingly disappearing from her sight.

Despite your smooth exit, you knew that Batwoman would catch up to you, and knowing that excited you in a way that was difficult to replicate. Seemingly like clockwork, as soon as you leaped from one building to the next, you were once again face-to-face with the figure.

“Your obsession with me is a little concerning, no?” You smirk, slowly stepping close towards the edge of the building. “Have a good night, Batsy.”

“Fuck,” you hear her swear beneath her breath as you swiftly move through bars of metal attached alongside a bricked wall. “Calamity, are you able to interfere?” Was the last thing you heard before managing to officially slip away from the Bat’s grip.

Much to your convenience, your apartment was close by, allowing you to quickly and swiftly slip through a window. When the warmth of your apartment hits you, you hear the alerts of meowing that seem to be the only sound filling your apartment lately.

“Yes, I know,” you say. “I’ll feed you all soon, mhm?” With the adrenaline from your heist calming down, you manage to finally remove the leather mask that conceals your identity. “Talk about greedy, I had just fed you guys before I left.”

Meow!

Meow!

Meow!

The sounds of meowing muffle as you enter your bedroom. You groan, throwing your rather obnoxious haul onto the wooden floor. "Fucking Batwoman," you mutter to yourself as you slowly unzip the leathered suit you call a uniform. "Always getting in the way—"

Meow!

".. Hi there, Poro," you giggle, not even needing to turn around to understand where and who that meow had come from. "I'm coming to feed you guys, calm down. You're all going to become fat at this rate."

You slowly slip on pyjamas, the comfortability of the fabric contrasting the earlier feeling of leather against your body.

“‘Kay, c’mon,” you say as you step out of your bedroom. A storm of meows answers you instantly.

“Okay, dramatic much?” you mutter, making your way to the kitchen. You pop open cans, portioning them out as a swarm of fur weaves between your legs like you’re the main attraction in some chaotic parade.

The noise dies down once they start eating, replaced with contented little munches and the occasional territorial grumble. You lean against the counter, exhaling slowly as your eyes drift back to your room to the pile you dropped without a second thought.

“Ugh.. I should probably check that,” you mumble.

Pushing yourself upright, you head back, crouching beside the haul. You start sorting through it absentmindedly—rings, watches, loose cash. Standard. Easy to move. Nothing exciting.

“Kind of a boring night, honestly,” you mutter, flipping open a small case before tossing it aside.

Your hand brushes against something different.

Not metal.

Not velvet.

Paper.

You pause.

You pull it free—a sleek black envelope, somehow wedged between the rest of the items like it had no business being there in the first place. Your brows knit together in confusion: “I don’t remember grabbing this..”

You turn it over in your hands. It’s pristine. Untouched. A wax seal sits neatly at the back, stamped with a sharp, unmistakable “W.”

Your lips part slightly and curiosity prickles at you as you break the seal, sliding the card out carefully. The weight of it alone screams money.

Your eyes scan the cursive lettering.

“You are cordially invited to attend the Wahi Foundation Gala.”

You blink.

Once.

Then again, slower this time.

“…Tomorrow?” you whisper. A laugh slips out of you—soft at first, then growing, disbelief curling into amusement. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You sit back on your heels, staring at the invitation like it might disappear if you look away.

The Wahi Foundation.

A gala.

Full of Gotham’s richest, most powerful people.

Security, probably insane.

Valuables, definitely insane.

You tap the edge of the card against your chin, mind already racing. A place like that doesn’t just open its doors to someone like you. You push yourself up, walking over to your mirror, holding the invitation up beside your reflection.

Your usual leather wouldn’t do.

No, this required something else entirely.

Something elegant.

Something deceptive.

“A fancy party, hm…” you murmur, tilting your head slightly. Your smile sharpens, “Guess I’ll clean up nice for once.”

From the other room, a loud, offended meow echoes.

You snort softly.

“Relax,” you call back. “I’ll be back.” You glance back down at the card, thumb brushing over the embossed lettering. “Tomorrow night,” you repeat quietly.

You gently toss the invitation onto your bedside table, possible outfits already rushing through your mind. While your home itself had the shared dingy appearance of other Gotham apartments, your closet told a different story.

With all of the mansions that had been graced with your presence, you were able to conjure up a wardrobe curated to your expensive tastes. Its collection of expensive dresses, beautiful jewelry, and countless amounts of shoes were almost reminiscent of Barbie’s closet, while its darkened shades stayed similar to that of a vampire.

You step closer, fingertips grazing along the fabrics like you’re reacquainting yourself with old friends. Silk. Satin. Velvet. Each piece carries a memory—some from close calls, others from nights that went a little too smoothly.

“Hm… no, too loud,” you mutter, pushing aside a deep crimson dress. “And you.. ” you pull another from its hanger, holding it up to your frame, “…too much.”

You let it fall back into place, continuing your slow search. The soft hum of the city bleeds through your windows, distant sirens acting as Gotham’s lullaby. It’s almost comforting.

Almost.

Eventually, your hand stills.

There it is.

Black, of course—but not the kind that swallows light. This one plays with it. A sleek, form-fitting gown with a slit high enough to be dangerous, subtle shimmer woven into the fabric like starlight caught in motion.

“Perfect,” you say to yourself.

You pull it free, draping it over your arm before glancing at your reflection. For a moment, the room is quiet. No teasing smirk. No cocky tilt of your head.

Just you.

The rest of the night drifts by slower than usual.

You clean up, stash what needs stashing, and make mental notes of what can be fenced later. The cats eventually settle, curling into their usual spots like nothing in the world could ever touch them. You envy that.

Sleep comes eventually.

But not without interruption.

Because somewhere in the depths of the night, just as your body finally begins to relax, you feel it. That presence.

Not loud.

Not obvious.

But there.

Your eyes snap open, staring at the ceiling. Silence fills the apartment, thick and unmoving. You sit up slightly, gaze drifting toward the window. You feel as if those eyes are on you, eyes that you’re unable to match with your own.

A slow exhale leaves your lips as you fall back against the mattress, one arm draped over your eyes.

Morning comes too quickly. Or maybe you just didn’t sleep enough to notice the difference.

Sunlight bleeds through your curtains in thin, unimpressive streaks. Gotham never really has bright mornings. You groan softly, rolling onto your side as a familiar weight settles against your hip.

“Poro…” you mumble. A soft, satisfied meow answers you. “Yeah, yeah… I’m up.”

You’re not.

Not yet.

But eventually, the day drags you along anyway.

Time passes in fragments.

Feeding cats.

Quick shower.

Coffee that tastes like nothing but does its job. You keep busy. Not because you need to, but because your mind refuses to sit still. Every thought loops back to the same place.

The gala.

The people.

The opportunity.

Night falls again, draping Gotham in its natural state.

Alive.

Dangerous.

Yours.

You stand in front of your mirror once more, but this time, it’s different.

The dress hugs you perfectly, like it was made with you in mind. Every line intentional. Every detail sharp. Your usual gear is nowhere in sight, replaced with something far more refined.

Your fingers work carefully, adjusting the final touches such as earrings, a delicate pearl necklace, rings that don’t look stolen—even if they are. Your hair falls just right, your makeup subtle, but deliberate. You barely look like the same person.

You tilt your head slightly, studying yourself, “.. hm.” A slow smile forms, and from behind you there’s a quiet:

Meow.

You glance down, spotting a pair of curious eyes watching you from the doorway.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rio,” you say, grabbing a small clutch from your dresser. “I clean up nice.”

Another meow. Judgy.

You snort, “I know I could just sneak in, but you try infiltrating a high-society gala in leather.” You move toward the window, pausing just before stepping out. “Plus, it’s nice to dress up a little every now and then, no?” The city stretches before you, glittering in that artificial, expensive way that only Gotham can manage.

Your grip tightens slightly around the edge of the frame. Excitement hums beneath your skin. “Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “It’s time to go—“

Yet another meow. This one being rather needy.

“Yes, I’m feeding you guys before I leave, my goodness,” you sigh.

You leave the dark corners of your bedroom, and enter the kitchen. The moonlight seeps through the ripped holes from your curtains—majority of those holes coming from Rio and her incessant need to scratch whatever she can get her paws on.

You pop open a few cans—the food supply for the cats residing in your apartment had always been noticeably maintained better than your own. The meowing, again, only calming down once the food fill up the bowls laid out across the floor.

“I’ll be home soon,” you leave, your heels clacking against the wooden panels. “I’ll see you all later,” you blow a kiss and shut the door. Before leaving, you double check to make sure that your door is locked. While your apartment is dingy and wouldn’t seem to be a target for robberies, Gotham always holds surprises for its citizens, whether it be good or bad.

You walk down the concrete stairs, heels echoing throughout the stairwell. Every thought once again loops and threads in your mind and you can practically feel the riches that’ll surround you by the end of night.

When you step outside, the cold air of Gotham bites at your skin. “Fuck,” you mumble. “I should’ve brought a coat.” You watch as filled up cabs pass by you, your frustration seeping during the full five minutes of your wait until a cab arrives.

You slip into the backseat, the leather of the car squeaking slightly beneath you. “Good evening,” you greet the driver, before bombarding him with the address from your invitation. The address slips off your tongue naturally, as if you had been there before.

The city lights of Gotham flash by in a blur as you move through the streets to your destination. "We're here, ma'am," the driver says, his voice cutting into the silence of the air.

"Thank you." You smile softly. As you step out of the car, you feel the cold air biting at your skin. Chatter surrounds you, and your heels clack against the concrete.

The building before you looks less like a gala venue and more like something ripped straight from a billionaire’s fantasy.

Towering glass.

Black marble.

Gold accents catch every flicker of light spilling from the chandeliers inside. Valets move like clockwork at the front entrance while Gotham’s elite pour out of luxury cars, dressed in fabrics worth more than most people’s rent. Laughter drifts through the air, artificial and polished.

You hate how good it smells out here.

Money has a scent, and this part of Gotham reeks of it.

Your eyes drift upward, tracing the architecture carefully. Cameras tucked into corners. Security near every entrance. Armed guards hidden in plain sight beneath tailored suits.

“Cute,” you murmur.

A few heads turn your way as you approach the staircase leading toward the entrance. Not enough to cause concern—just enough to notice you. Your dress does exactly what it’s supposed to.

Distract.

Blend in.

Command attention all at once.

You step onto the red-carpeted stairs, posture relaxed despite the way your instincts scream at you to locate every exit point immediately. Two guards stand by the main doors, broad shoulders and earpieces making them look more intimidating than they probably are.

One of them extends a hand.

“Invitation.”

You offer him a sweet smile, slipping the black envelope from your clutch. “Of course.” The guard takes it, scanning the embossed seal before opening the card inside. His expression doesn’t change, but you catch the subtle shift in his posture.

Recognition. Interesting.

“Miss Vanderbilt,” he says after a moment.

The second guard steps aside immediately. “Welcome to the Wahi Foundation Gala. Enjoy your evening.” Suspicion coils tightly in your stomach. Still, you smile.

“Oh, I plan to."

The doors open. Warmth spills over you instantly alongside music, conversation, and the overwhelming glow of excess.

Crystal chandeliers hang high above the ballroom like frozen stars. Servers glide across the room carrying champagne and tiny foods that somehow manage to look expensive despite being the size of cat treats.

Your gaze sweeps the room carefully.

Politicians. CEOs. Socialites. Predators disguised in silk and diamonds. And somewhere in this sea of wealth sits the reason your invitation found its way into your stolen haul.

You descend the staircase slowly, heels clicking softly against polished marble. No one stops you. No one questions you. That bothers you more than it should.

A waiter passes, and you smoothly take a glass of champagne from his tray without breaking stride. Your eyes flick toward nearby display cases positioned throughout the ballroom.

Jewelry. Auction items. Rare artifacts.

But, as your eyes linger through the room, a pair of silver eyes catch your attention.

Sevika Wahi; the woman of the hour.

Her family was known for their influence on Gotham, as well as their wealth.

Which probably shouldn't be something you should hold against her—after all, children can't choose who theri parents are—but, it's something you can't seem to not care about entirely.

It seems that your shared attention, however, had managed to alert the woman.

Despite the amount of magazine covers, photoshoots, advertisements, and whatever else was used to plaster Sevika's likeness, you had been unprepared for the broadness of her build.

"Good evening," she says, the deepness of her voice sending an unfamiliar shiver down your spine.

"Good evening," you smile, "rather extravagant interior you have."

"I try," she chuckles, taking a sip of her champagne.

"Well, your efforts clearly weren't in vain," you say, trying to hold your disdain down.

"Hm," Sevika replies, her silver eyes moving down to your pearl necklace.

"Oh? Jealous of this beautiful piece of mine, Mrs. Wahi?" You smile, your blinks slowing like a cat's.

"Ms. I am not married, nor am I engaged yet," she says.

"Yet? Is there maybe a woman in the picture for you?" You tease her, hoping to break past the clear playboy personality she has held up.

"Who knows?"

You two converse for the remainder of your stay—which doesn't last long. As soon as you had the opportunity to leave, however, you immediately strayed away. The feeling of being surrounded by such corrupt people makes you sick.

It fills your heart with hatred that is far too familiar for you.

As you motion for another taxi, you decide on an unplanned heist for the night. While you'd usually plan them out, you hadn't expected to leave so early—especially without any sort of reward on your part.

The taxi comes quicker than the last, and your ride home feels the same. When you get home, you're immediately bombarded with meows.

"Not right now, Rio." You rush into your wardrobe, grabbing your leather costume and slipping it on the same way you always have. You slip through your apartment window once more, and slip into the shadows of Gotham.

You slip into a nearby alley without hesitation and within minutes, you’re scaling the neighbouring fire escape. The city stretches endlessly beneath you, alive and dangerous in the way only Gotham can be.

By the time you reach the penthouse balcony, your pulse is steady.

Focused.

The glass door gives way embarrassingly easily beneath your tools.“Rich people really think money replaces common sense,” you mutter.

The penthouse itself is obscene; with its modern art, rare sculptures, and a wine collection worth more than most people’s yearly salaries.

You move through the shadows silently, fingertips trailing lazily across polished marble countertops as your eyes scan for anything worthwhile.

Then you see it. A private display room tucked behind a biometric lock. Your grin sharpens. "it'll be a little treat for me." The lock takes less than two minutes to bypass. Inside, soft lighting illuminates rows of jewelry, watches, rare collectibles and one very large emerald sitting beneath glass.

Your brows lift.

“Well hello, gorgeous.” You crouch beside the display carefully, beginning work on the security casing. "You'd look great on my bedside table."

Almost there.

A low voice cuts through the darkness behind you. “You really can’t help yourself.”

Your eyes flutter shut briefly. “There she is.”

You turn slowly, smirk already curling onto your lips as Batwoman emerges from the shadows near the doorway. Rainwater glistens across parts of her armoured suit, cape hanging heavily behind her.

God, she’s dramatic.

“You know,” you hum, resting your chin lightly against your palm, “most women just ask for my number instead of stalking me across rooftops.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Your smile widens. “You’re making this feel very relationship-coded, darling.”

Batwoman steps closer slowly. “This penthouse belongs to one of Wahi’s financial partners.”

That catches your attention.

Your playful expression dims slightly. “Interesting.”

“There’s movement happening tonight,” she continues. “Money transfers. Weapons. Something bigger than theft.”

You lean back against the display lazily despite the alertness creeping into your spine. “And here I thought Gotham’s rich were just boringly evil.” A laugh escapes you softly.

Then, before either of you can say anything else, the penthouse alarms suddenly scream to life. Red lights flood the room instantly. You blink, and Batwoman sighs deeply.

“That wasn’t me,” you say immediately.

“I know," she sighs.

Heavy footsteps thunder somewhere outside the room.

Security. A lot of security. You glance toward the emerald. Then toward Batwoman. Then back toward the emerald.

“Don’t," she sneers.

“Hm,” you grin, smashing the glass case instantly and snatching the jewel, “yes.”

“Catwoman—” You dart past her before she can grab you, laughter spilling from your lips as guards storm the penthouse seconds too late. Chaos erupts beautifully behind you.

You sprint through the luxurious penthouse effortlessly while Batwoman barrels after you, taking down armed guards along the way with brutal efficiency.

And you’re starting to think she enjoys this almost as much as you do.

“Little busy for a lecture right now!” you call over your shoulder.

“You’re impossible," she grumbles.

“And yet you keep chasing me!” You yell back,

You leap over a collapsing table, slide beneath a guard’s outstretched arm, and crash shoulder-first through the balcony doors. Cold air slams into you immediately. Without slowing down, you lock your eyes onto an adjacent rooftop.

Batwoman catches your wrist just before you jump, and the sudden force spins you backward directly into her chest. For half a second, neither of you moves.

The city roars beneath you. Her grip is firm against your leather costume.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she growls.

"Aw." Your breath catches embarrassingly for a moment before your grin returns, “You say the sweetest things, darling.”

Then you twist free.

And suddenly you’re flying through Gotham night air again, laughing while guards' bullets and shouting fade into the distance behind you. By the time you finally slip back through your apartment window, your feet ache, and your adrenaline is beginning to wear off.

Instantly—

Meow!

Mrrrow!

ask to join taglist ! !

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[plutosmut]

꒰Beware—Sevika the face fucker.ᐟ ꒱

synopsis: A campfire story becomes all too true to the reader─who doesn't believe in urban legends.

warnings: 200 follower special, dub con, knife play, face fucking, jason voorhees!sevika, smut, porn with plot, ocs!, college!au, modern!au, threats, pussy eating, mean dom!sev, cuck oc, sub!reader, bratty!reader, monster fucking series, fingering, dirty talk, reader implied to like toxic women, oc yearning for reader, spit, licking, no strap :(, breath play, name calling, actually proofread for once.

ᯓ★pluto's pieceˎˊ˗ - ik ik i said grayson was next but i've been DYING to write this series so its gotta come out first, but grayson will appear. also, thank you guys so much for 200 followers, it really means so fucking much to me that yall enjoy my works so much you follow me for it, i love yall !

─•─────•─────•─────•─────•─────•─────•────

The air feels thicker in the mountains, the smell of burnt out firewood and the animalic stench of wildlife that belong to no one but mother nature herself fills the car as you and your group of friends drive up to the campsite. Its an annual trip that you've been taking since August first got her license in your sophmore year─camping, a tasteless hobby you just couldn't get behind.

You thought at some point your group of friends would outgrow the tradition, but every year, without fail, you found yourself sluggishly sat on a fallen wooden log, facing the fire and roasting a stale marshmallow for a calorie dense snack. The first few years were so freeing, a chance to get away from your city and to reconnect with nature and your friends, but as you got older the magic died. It felt as though this stupid spot had seen you at your better and your absolute worse, yet no one else seemed to feel the mundane start to creep back in.

You never said anything though, closed mouth that chose to starve instead of get fed. Plus, its not like you could drive to a better location─let alone had any ideas on what a better trip even consisted of. Now, another year has passed, college has been beating your ass in the romance and academic departments and all you can think of is going on this week long bender in this abandoned summer camp with your closest friends.

Its getting darker, the sun slowly lowering itself for its own slumber as you unpack your things, leaving them in the entrance to the cabin that you want to claim as your own. "No fair, y/n why do you get the biggest cabin?" Sasha, the newest addition to your group, pouts as you finish setting your things down.

"Got here first, Sash. Maybe next time, hustle a little harder." You throw a wink at the dyed redhead, her face matching the color of her hair as she averts her eyes. A small part of you knew she had a small thing for you, and you assume that's probably why August and Samira had invited her in the first place, but you were never one for friends to lovers, especially not random hookups from your bestest friends.

"C'mon y/n, that shits big enough for the both of you." August rolls her eyes, the car parked as she leans against the hood, hands hanging loosely from the waist of her oversized shorts─the top of her boxers peeking just below them. She had a point, a strong point that could not be refuted. You suspected that your favorite cabin had been a counselors cabin before the demise of this summer camp due to its size.

It could reasonably hold two people, but reason was something that seemed relative to you and you were not about to spend this whole week babysitting a girl who wanted to fuck you five days past Tuesday.

"Whatever, she's still not staying in my damn cabin." It comes out grouchy and annoyed, way more emotion than you would have liked. August shoots Sasha a sympathetic smile, shrugging her shoulders as you walk past them both and slam the door behind you.

─•─────•─────•

An already annoying trip turns even more so as all three girls pull you out of the comfort of the dusty mattress to sit around a crackling fire and tell ghost stories. Marshmallows that you're sure have been sitting in the glove compartment of August's beat up van since your last camping trip, lay flat on the floor beside your foot. You're half tempted to crush them beneath your sneakers, stamp out the boredom as Samira and August talk amongst themselves and Sasha─well, Sasha tries not to piss herself at the feeling of the soft skin of your thigh touching hers.

"So," She begins, her soft brown eyes staring so deeply at the fire that it reflects in the pools, heating them up to such an intense gold color. "d-do you have a type?" Your eyebrow raises as you turn to look at her, and she cant tell what ignites behind them, not that it was anything worth mentioning, nothing good either. "In girls, I mean." Her body feels rigid against you, like she's too afraid of you but yet too attracted to pull away either.

"I don't know, never really thought about it. Just like who I like, I guess." Your eyes lock onto Samira and August, who have abandoned their own conversation in favor of watching the scene in front of them. "Maybe that's why you're still single." Samira jokes, her voice all soft and innocent like she isn't making fun of you. "Fuck you." You spit back, an interested smile gracing your lips.

"All your exes have been complete assholes! Wait...that's probably why you liked them in the first place, huh?" Samira continues, the fire illuminating her soft brown skin, her lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

"Its that bad?" Sasha murmurs only loud enough for the four of you to hear, a stark contrast to the loudness of your voices only mere seconds before. "They're exaggerating." You defend, but you know they're right, your luck with women has been...awful to say the least, though, having it brought to the attention of an outsider made your stomach churn.

"Sounds like you could use someone who's good for you." The words drip off her tongue all syrupy and seductively, like she wants to get you hooked on her. Clearly, the fact that she has your friends egging her on and the liquid courage of the half drunken solo cup of red wine that occupies the seat next to her. "I don't think she fucks with 'good for her'" August chuckles, downing the last of the contents in her cup.

You shake your head, not at her words, but at the whole humiliation ritual you were roped into as Sasha scoots closer, her left side flush against your right. It makes you stiffen, her body so warm and silky thanks to her sweat and the cherry scented body oil you seen her apply. "I just─I just want someone to dominate me, y'know? Slap me around a little bit, make me feel...I don't know, powerless."

The air goes silent, the owls who had been hooting away suddenly falling deathly silent, the only sounds originating being the crackling of the fire in front of you. You keep your body still, holding your gaze on the heat of the flames, your heart sinking lower and lower with each passing moment.

Should you blame it on the alcohol? Maybe play it off?

"Fuck, that sounds like some real porno shit." August moans, biting back the laugh that takes her hostage. Samira doesn't, bursting into a fit of giggles that causes your skin to heat up at your own confession. Everything resumes after that, the laughter alerting the wildlife to keep hooting and rummaging, tells the wind to keep howling and allows your heart to return to its initial position.

It dies down after a while, Samira holding her marshmallow to the fire, her lips pulled tight in that smile that says she's thinking of something deeply. "Y'know, speaking of pornos." Her face lights up, her deep brown eyes looking at you, as she cooks up whatever she's about to say.

"Have you guys ever heard about that porn production company from the nineties? Zaun productions?" Obviously, all of you were in your early twenties, an old porn production company seemingly not being anyone's special interest, except for hers.

"Well, they were one of the first ever company to make hardcore lesbian porn, and it's said that they rented out this very camp one summer to film one. Unfortunately, while filming one of the actress' just went crazy, like she got addicted to the sensation of fucking another actress' face. It got so bad that they had to keep her locked up,"

"Wait, me as fuck~" August interrupted, hand going to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Oh, you're so annoying." Samira nudges her, causing the much taller, stronger, sturdier girl to rock slightly. "But, anyways, she had to be locked up because she kept interrupting filming. When the shoots were over, they forgot about her, leaving her tied up and a horny mess."

She looks around at all of you, your eyes plastered on her with deep interest, your mouths agape as the story grips you. You don't think its true but the way she tells it has you second guessing yourself. "It said she broke out. When she tried to find her way back to civilization she got so lost that no one could ever find her again." You feel the soft skin of Sasha's hand come to grip your arm, her head falling onto your shoulder, the scent of her cherry body oil and a strange plastic filling your nostrils.

Your eyes dart to her for only a few milliseconds, deciding not to mention it or push her off, you ignore it, push down the alarm bells that blare in your ears. Samira continues, leaning in closer, like what shes saying is classified information that the trees couldn't hear. "I heard that she wondered around the woods for a little bit, desperately trying to find someone whose face she could fuck, but when they refused she would stab them, leaving them there to bleed out, just like how her production company left her."

She concluded, that same knowing smirk that she's held all night gracing her features in triumph. "That's some scary shit." August gasp, but you're not too convinced. "Oh, please. That's such a bunch of bullshit." You throw your head back in something mixed with disbelief and pure contrarianism. Samira's eyes narrow at you, her smirk dropping. "What? It's all true." She's defensive, her ego bruised from you seeing right through her.

You've known Samira since you were young, her home being placed only a few doors down from you. You've become all too privy of the fact that she's a great storyteller, but an awful member of the truth club. She would use her powers for evil, her sly tongue being able to make everything sound so believable, so encapsulating, so true─that no one would question her if asked. "Yeah right. If it was such a big thing than why didn't anyone come looking for her? What was her name even?" You challenge the brunette, watching as her skin heats up to a toasted brown, her eyes blown wide at being caught in a perceived lie.

"Her name is Sevika, you can look it up!" Manicured nails dig into the bark of the log that she sits on, your superiority burning holes in her cool facade. "You know we can't google shit." This time the smirk belongs to you, a fitting revenge after the stunt they pulled earlier.

You love your friends, you adore them even, but their feeble attempts at setting you up with their friend that they made during the school year were bothersome to say the least. Its not like you were hunting for a relationship, not like you were some novice to love that needed a guiding hand─you're perfectly capable of finding your own girls to fuck.

You see the anger seep out of every pore on Samira's face, you can hear the way Sasha's breath hitches at the hostility in front of her, and you know that August finds this whole thing extremely entertaining. "Whatever, fuck you, I'm going to bed." She gathers her cups and the bottle of wine that she had been flowing into all of your glasses all night, "Make sure not to come crying to me when Sevika comes hunting you down! She hates non believers." With that she's gone, retreating back to her cabin like a dog with her tail between her legs.

"Jesus, what is that bitch, slenderman?" August cracks to ease the tension, it works, you and Sasha bursting into a fit of laughter that carries throughout the night.

Fun and merriment fill you through the hours, a sense of ease as you talk with your friend and the girl whose crush on you grows by the second. It's supposed to be easy and relaxing, but─ by the way the trees move, by the sounds of blood stained boots crushing small tigs beneath them as she bounds through the forest, the anticipation she feels as she hunts for you, hunts for all your friends─this trip will turn into something darker, very soon.

─•─────•─────•

While alone in your cabin, the front door left opened while the room door─second one as not to be obvious─lays locked and unmoving, you sit alone as the glow from your ipad illuminates the night. You're so bored it's maddening, the sounds of the night no longer scare you but it does aid in making you feel uneasy.

You would never admit it to yourself or anyone else, but that story, however dumb it may have been, knocked some fear into your heart. The thought of someone knowing your location, someone dangerous, ate at your nerves so much that your resting heart rate now sat at 103, just incase Samira somehow wasn't lying.

Everything's still, your body clad in a silk short nightgown that hugged every curve and was guaranteed to make any woman who saw you in it drool, and you're laying on the appointed mattress bored out of your fucking mind. The series that barely captured your attention now flashes to a steamy scene of the current couple, bodies entwined in a disgust blend of sex. Your eyes fight to turn away, being horny in the woods with nothing to satiate you sounds annoying, and you have been bothered enough for the day.

Still, there's a terrible burn in between your thighs, and you yearn for the buzz of your vibrator, but it's a silent pipe dream that won't come true. Your thighs squeeze together, searching for relief and it draws a whimper out of your parted lips that you try to suck back in.

"Dear lord." You watch the scene so intensely, like taking your eyes off it will ruin the illusion you had built for yourself. You believed you were stronger than your vices, but fuck was it hard, so hard when you haven't been touched by another soul in what feels like years but has only been a few months. Four agonizing months. Months that have culminated in you feeling sex deprived and touch starved. It's not like anyone would know.

Your fingers find their way south, dipping into your pantieless cunt, rubbing circles around your begging clit. Who cares, right? August and Samira have each other to get themselves off, but what do you have? Well...there's always Sasha.

Sasha who has been vying for your attention since you set foot in August's dorm last semester, who has been fucking herself to the thought of getting to breathe the air that surrounds your puffy pussy. Sasha who knocks on the foggy window of your cabin, the glow of your ipad alerting her of your position.

Your digits are quick to leave your cunt, wiping the mess on the side of the dusty mattress. "What the fuck?" Even sounding so pissed to see her, she still finds you absolutely enthralling, so beautiful even when there's fury lacing your brows together. "Sorry, didn't mean to...scare you." She swallows all her anxiety in between the words, choking down the arousal from seeing you.

You're bathed in the sweet glow of the moon, hair tied and out of your face, save for the few strands that stubbornly cling to your forehead─sweaty from the lack of ac in the warm summer night. Your nipples hard and poking through the lacey material of the top of your light blue nightgown. Sasha fights everything in her not to take out her phone and snap a quick picture to use as masturbation material.

"You could never scare me , I can see your hair from a mile away." You roll your eyes, body half out the window. You have no idea that someone has infiltrated your camp, standing in the darkness behind the food hall that hasn't been in use since you were in grade school. She watches you, staring deeply behind her hockey mask, picking out of the both of you who's going to be her next victim.

She doesn't choose Sasha, too red, too familiar. She hates it.

Instead, she sets her sight on you, bratty and unfiltered. A challenge she would love to break.

"Is that what you wear to bed? Or were you expecting me?" Sasha flirts, spurred on by the silence and the plush of your parted lips. "I thought you were sleeping, thought everyone had passed out." You mumble to yourself, she threw you for a loop, not expecting the usually shy girl to be so bold. "Actually, I've been up and thinking about you." She rocks on the heels of her slippers, running a delicate hand through her cherry red locks.

You chuckle, and it's because of her─ she might implode on herself. "You really don't give up, do you pretty girl?" The nickname falls from your lips so perfectly, every syllable drifting off your lips until you have ensnared her in your honey trap. "All I ask for is a chance, I'll be the best girl you've ever had." She promises, hands stuffing to her side as if she's forgotten her plaid boxers don't have pockets. She stands there in her green tank top and plaid boxers, her feet covered by fluffy socks and slippers, her hair pulled back and her heart in her hands ready to give to you.

The top of her breasts bulge from the too tight tank top, and it sends shivers into your core that you hate to admit lingers for too long. Your body longs to be touched, and you're not in the mood to play with your own cunt, so as fucked up as it sounds, you indulge her. "You want a chance? Come take it then, baby girl."

"Fuck, really?" Her eyes sparkle with that perfect glow of hope and it brings a genuine smile to your lips. She searches for any form of jest, maybe even a hint of evil intention, but there is none, none that she can see atleast. "Ok-Okay I'll be-be right back!" She's quick in those slippers that nearly slip off as she makes her way back to her cabin, running quicker than she ever has.

─•─────•─────•

Fifteen minutes go by and you're still waiting on Sasha, you assume that she is packing up all her belongings or possibly telling August and Samira that it worked and you'll finally let her touch you in less than friendly ways.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut causes your heart to skip, but you choke it down again, telling yourself that it's just the wind or probably Sasha. "Sash?" There's no answer. "You're not funny, Sasha." You get up to walk through the hallway only to be met with the large 6' something figure that stands there, silent and staring behind the white hockey mask. Dried blood coating her blade, her tank top covered in stains of sweat and a deep shades of metallic gore, tight ripped and black jeans holding the thick muscularity of her thighs in place.

"Hey, pretty girl." Her voice is raspy and coated in something dangerous. Mocking. Your skin goes goose─skinned, your blood runs cold and your heart abandons you. "Who...what-fuck." The alarm bells ring through your ears as you run towards your room, she blocks your current escape, but you try your best to hold up in the creaky wooden room. She's quick to follow you, chasing you down the hallway that feels longer than it really is thanks to all the adrenaline.

You reach the room in the nick of time, slamming it shut and using what little strength you had to keep it such for the time being. Your fingers fumble against the rusty lock, small prayers leaving your lips as you try your best not to cry, trying to keep yourself calm and steady as if a psycho killer isn't banging against the wooden door .

You lock the door behind you, your stomach churning as you look for anything to defend yourself. You spot the half cracked window, silently thanking Sasha for her intrusion.You try to stuff yourself out of it as she bangs hard against the door, you feel as if the door was your own nerves that should have been protected by you.

You can hear the wood cry, and scream as she pounds against it. It breaks open just as you're halfway through, she pulls your body back inside by your waist, throwing you onto the floor as if you weighed and meant nothing. "You're such a mean slut, leading that redhead on. Hope she doesn't mind me breaking your pussy in." She drags you by your hair, pulling you to look at her. "Please, don't do this." But it falls on deaf ears, she's already unbuckling her pants and letting them fall to a pool on her ankles.

"Listen, you have two choices: I can fuck that bratty face of yours or I can fucking kill you and that pretty little redhead." She stabs the blade into the wall, the sound so mortifying yet it sends waves of confused arousal straight to your core. The way she stands on top of you, like she owns the air and space that surrounds you, makes your throat tighten and your heart race. She smells like motor oil and dirt, yet the combination attracts you.

Maybe you had a thing for masks. Yeah, that's it. That's why you can feel the flow of you own wetness trickle down your thighs as she tightens her grip on your hair. She tugs slightly, dragging you for an answer, you─replay every moment that could have led up to this.

She's supposed to be fictional, a character made up by your friend who loves to tell stories. But, here she stands, all muscular and terribly horny, her body heaving as if you gave her the workout of her life. You couldn't die here, couldn't be talked about on some true crime podcast alongside a sponsorship for flat tummy tea all while the hosts make ill timed jokes at your expense.

And what of your friends? If she did leave you here dying, your guts soaking the wood beneath you, no one would believe that they were innocent. That is, if Sevika doesn't kill them too. It's a decision you make in the nick of time, her arm reaching for the silver knife that sticks hauntingly out of the pillar by your bed. "Yeah, okay, whatever you want." What is it that Samira said? "If you say no she'll leave you bleeding out, like they left her?" What seemed like a crock of bullshit is now life saving advice.

"Yeah?" For a second you think you hear the sound of relief? Disbelief? Some surprise, maybe? Whatever it is, it doesn't stay long, for Sevika has now regained her composure and starts by taking off her mask, the white and holed goalie mask falling to the floor in front of you both.

You would be lying if you said she wasn't gorgeous, like stupidly so. Like, genuinely so fucking annoying how her face looks so sculpted, every scar that graces it like a poem you were dying to read. She's trying to kill you, yet you're admiring her beauty. You had to admit, if the circumstances were better and knives weren't involved you could see yourself falling for her.

"Keep staring, makes this so much easier." You don't notice as she guides your head towards her dripping cunt, forcing your nose into her bush, the hair carrying the stench of sweat and body odor. You want to hate it, want to tell her how much she stinks but you can't, you find yourself inhaling it deeper.

"Don't be stupid, stick your fucking tongue out and get to sucking."You do as commanded, dying to give her the best head of her life, like your life depended on it. Because it does.

Her grip on your head hardens as she grinds against your face, slick going all over your face as you lap at her clit viciously. Your wet muscle goes underneath her hood, sucking it into your lips as you hum against it. Its wet and sloppy, your spit dripping down your face and blending with her juices. You moan into her pussy, hands going to steady yourself on her thick thighs as moans fall from her lips.

Its so pornographic. "Fuck, your tongue is amazing." She praises, her grip loosening just a tad, not enough to let you go though. She grabs your head, doesn't let it go as she keeps your head steady, her cunt grinding against your face. Her clit catches on your nose, and your oxygen gets cut off.

"Take this shit, you dirty little bitch." She grinds harder on your face, your vision going cloudy and spotted. "You like this pussy , huh? You like getting your pretty face fucked?" You mumble out a "mhm" while your lungs beg for air. It doesn't come as quickly as you would like, but you know you're in no position to argue with her.

You're sure that you'll pass out on her, your brain buzzing , your ears going muffled. "I'm gonna cum on your fucking face, would you like that? Huh, you'd like that wouldn't you, you fucking whore." She fucks into you slower, controlled and full of hate. She pulls you closer, her cum painting your face a milky white.

You feel spent, used and oxygen deprived. She pulls back, her slick sticking to your face in a long string. You're pussy drunk, staring at her with stars in your eyes. Before you can utter a word, she stuffs your face back into her cunt. She uses you as if you're a free use toy, using your face for what feels like hours.

Your own pussy feels so sticky, strings keeping it closed, your fingers holding out from touching yourself. Why did you enjoy this? Where's the fear that was present mere seconds ago?

She orgasms against you again, her fifth one tonight, and finally you're pulled off her pussy. "You look so fucking sexy." She pulls you up by your neck, forcing a kiss on you, tasting herself on your lips. She uses her thick thumb to pull your bottom lip open, spitting in your mouth before stuffing her tongue in there to join it. You're blissed out, moaning into her mouth as you grind against her.

To the untrained eye you both would look like a couple having a particular rough sex session, but that was so far from the truth. Sevika was an intruder, a killer, a sex fiend, and you─you were her victim that found herself falling in love with the yummy feeling of being used.

"Fucking hell. Wonder what would happen if that dumb bitch saw you covered in my cum. You think she would piss herself?" You don't know why she has stuck onto Sasha, why her hatred for the redhead is so prominent, and you don't think you could ask her either. "You're done ,right? Got your fill?" You ask her, big eyes pleading with her to stop her tirade.

"Fuck no!" She pushes you against the locked door, pushing the silk of your nightgown up until it reaches your waist, exposing your bare cunt and ass to the cold of the night. The evidence of your arousal leaks onto the skin of your thighs, embarrassment sneaks it's way into your belly, mixing disgustingly with the fear that's taken root there.

Your body reacts before your mind can, the splat of her spit hitting your cunt. It's a possessive move, like she's trying to paint you in her scent, dirty you up, ruin you for anyone else. You have no evidence for this, but her actions provide enough proof. She shoves one thick digit into your begging hole, " 'M not an asshole baby, I'll take care of that dumb pussy. Make you feel nice and stretched." She bullies another thicker finger into your cunt, you cant help but hiss at the pressure.

How long had it been since you've had someone so muscular claim you as their own? Probably not since your summer fling with that girl Abby from your summer classes, and even her fingers couldn't compare to the deep stretch that pulls whimpers out of your mouth. "Ple-please, just, fuck, hold on." Your nails dig deep into the wood of the door, when she closed it you had no idea. Here she is, taking you as if you were free use, and yet, she had the decency to close the door. As if you both were lovers, as if she didn't threaten to take your life if you didn't comply.

You guess she could have been lonely, left for dead by people she trusted, too addicted to her own pleasure to think about the consequences of her actions. And now all those consequences had caught up to her, and she had been reduced to an urban legend, a hermit shunned by society.

Maybe, what you were doing was a sort of act of service, helping an elder lesbian get herself off. She fucks you with her thick fingers, using her free hand to keep you steady. Your stomach feels full of her, her fingers curl inside of you, poking up into you. You swear you can feel it in your stomach, the heat of her palm nudging against your puffy clit sends your body into a frenzy.

"Yeah, just like that. Take it all, good slut." She goes faster, like insanely fast, her speed surprising you. It pulls those moans that died in your throat each time you fucked yourself on a vibrator, lonely and solitary, begging for someone to take the ache away. It drags out all the emotions of regret and rejection that took your heart in a chokehold.

What kind of witchcraft did this woman have?

You're so close to coming undone on her fingers, her breath hot in your ear as she talks you through it, her raspy feminine voice spilling all of your dirty secrets. You wonder if she's been watching long, and how thought out her plan was.

"Hey, y/n? You still here?" The soft voice of Sasha rings in your ears as you can hear the sound of her slippers hitting the underside of her foot. "Sorry it took so long, I had to gather up my things, then the door was locked from the outside, it was a whole thing."

Your gaze falls on Sev─who just shoots you a playful wink. Now you know why Sasha took so fucking long. Her hand darts out to cover your mouth, her mouth getting too close to your ear, so close you can smell the faint stench of gin on her breath. "Say a fucking word, and your little girl toy winds up in a ditch." You nod furiously, the tears you had been trying to hold in all night drip down your cheeks. Sasha's ivory colored hand knocks on the door, the sound muffled slightly by the weight of your body. She knocks again, no answer. "Did you go to sleep on me, pretty girl?" Oh how you're starting to hate that fucking nickname.

"Go on, answer her." She urges you, as if she hadn't just threaten to kill the redhead safely on the other side of the door. Her fingers haven't stopped their movements, working hard to pull your orgasm from your fragile body. You feel broken, a small part of you enjoying this even though your mind screams at you to make it stop. Wouldn't be the first time you thought with your pussy instead of your brain.

"Fuck, Sash—uh, fuck—now's-now's not a good ti-time." You moan out as Sevika's fingers go deeper, getting rough as she grinds the rough pad of her palm against your clit. "Wait—why?" She asks, and you're starting to hate yourself for liking this, liking the fact that she's unknowingly being cucked by an urban legend that doesn't seem to be too fictional in retrospect.

Sevika's head dips into the crook of your neck, sucking purple bruises into your skin. She's marking you, you know this, still your cunt squeezes around her fingers. "Get rid of her." She orders as she drags the tip of her tongue along your neck, tracing a vein that pops out at you having to keep your plump lips shut. "Jesus, fuck off Sasha, please." It comes out so quick as a means to not stutter and let her know that you're getting your brains fucked out by someone who she could never be.

Your type. A dominate woman who plays around with you and your cunt. Fuck, they were right about you—you did fucking love assholes.

"Oh...okay. Sorry to bother you." She retreats like a kicked pup, the door of the cabins entrance slamming shut behind her, you know she's probably off licking her wounds and crying to August and Samira if they were still awake, but a large part of you couldn't find it within yourself to care. After all, you were doing this to keep them safe. There's no telling what Sevika would do if she didn't get her fill of your tongue stroking her clit, or feel the way your cunt pulses around her fingers as you come undone on them— everything turning hot and white as your body convulses. She doesn't catch you when you fall forward into her big arms, silently begging her to hold and comfort you through the biggest orgasm you've had in your life.

She watches you like a hawk, a smile playing on those gap toothed lips as you shake and shiver beneath her. "Just like that, good girl." She mutters as she lets you drop to your knees in front of her, where you belong.

"Made a mess from being listened to by that dumb mutt, huh?" You wanted to deny it, but there was no more fight left in you, so, you nodded. All proud and smiley, like what you did somehow was gracious and ladylike. You should be embarrassed, mortified even, but that went out the window along with the pent up energy that laid stagnant inside of you for the past four months.

"Good, cause 'm not done with you yet~"

─•─────•─────•

The next morning was hell. Sevika was nowhere to be found, leaving you a fucked out and sweaty heap on the floor of your cabin. You don't know why you expected more out of the killer that snuck into your trip, ruined you by threatening you, and aiding in you cucking a girl with a crush on you─but for some reason you did.

Such an idiot.

"Y/n? You up?" Samira's voice rang from the hall of your cabin and you mentally sighed, hoping that she would leave you alone, but you knew she was like a bloodhound and you were her bone. "Yeah, just not feeling good. Haven't been feeling good since yesterday." You lie, the shredded material of your nightgown thrown around the floor. When did she rip that?

"Yeah, same. I think those marshmallows went bad or something." You can hear her body lean against the wall, it causing a small thud to ring out in the light of the room. "Think we should cut it short, we all aren't feeling the best." It could have been the fact that none of you had any decent food since you stopped at a seedy diner on your way up the mountain, couple that with too stale marshmallows and strong wine and you had a recipe for a stomachs disaster.

But you didn't eat any of the marshmallows. A good cover is a good cover, and you had to get the fuck out of there. "Mm, if Sasha and Auggie are okay with it, I don't mind going home." You're already gathering your things, stuffing everything recklessly into your suitcase, regardless of it that was the system or not.

After your packing was down you pulled your suitcases towards the waiting car, August sat with her head sitting out the window looking worse for wear while Sasha leaned against it, her gaze avoiding you.

Fuck, you would have to fix this.

"Hey, Sash." You start, hands going to pick at your sleeves nervously. She looks awful, like a heartbroken school girl in her tiny shorts and slogan tee, arms folded just below the fat of her breast. "Oh, now you wanna talk to me?" Her tone spills with venom, something you're not used to from her.

"I just wasn't feeling well, and...I was having tummy troubles." Embarrassing, yes, but effective to keep a secret you would be replaying every time you got that itch. She seems to believe you, turning from a gray cloud to sunny and beaming the minute you explain yourself.

The drive down the mountain is silent, everyone─except Sasha─nursing a headache or some kind of hangover. In the rear view mirror you see her, standing there with her blade in her hand, muscular body watching the car drive away as her skull tilts to the side.

You're sure she was on her way for seconds, as if she didn't take her fill last night and early that morning, but you were already gone by time she returned to your cabin.

You don't feel too bad though, you know she'll find you again, especially since you left your number written on the wall for her to find. Just in case.

─•─────•─────•─•─────•─────•─•─────•─────•

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⤷ @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cup1dssworld, @jejjdjdk, @ylxiru

[lard100]

YUMMMM

[kerizaret]

Overheard in a manga store yesterday: "we need more yuri in here. I've had at least 5 girls coming up to me last time asking for yuri. Everyone wants yuri now". The world is healing

[alterrus]

I trying to improve my coloring but i still dont know how to render

[mynqzo]

harriet fangs >:3

[ciyl]

Hit legs today at the gym, fuuucckk having stairs in yo house UUUGHHH

My legs all jelly

[gvalesdraws]

Melkor from Silmarillion that I did for the amazing Lucifer zine! (@the_cursed_zine on instagram)

[juunipupu]

Knights in Love, wholesome version

[catsbeaversandducks]

"no"

By yuki_illust19

[ciyl]

So ppl just writing characters as grap1st now…

huh

Weird.