Featuring: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman & Jinx.
Notes: You must be logged into twitter/x to view these! Mdni!
VI
Making you squirt. Backshots. Scissoring. Audio from Vi. Riding her strap. Playing with you. Finger fucking you. Rubbing herself to the thought of you. Riding her thigh.
CAITLYN KIRAMMAN
Humping her pillow. Filming herself for you. Caitlyn riding her fingers. Caitlyn bouncing on your strap. Scissoring. Scissoring two. Fucking you.
JINX
Jinx having fun in her hideout. Bestfriend!Jinx while you’re in the bathroom. Fucking her. Needy for you. She got new nails. New nails two. She got impatient waiting for you.
Knight!Abby x Princess!Reader
Silk and Steel
Chapter one: A Woman?!
wc: 3.2
cw: slight smut
You lay across the enormous bed that dominated the center of your chamber, swallowed by layers of softness and warmth that had been carefully chosen for you since childhood. Silk sheets brushed cool against your skin while thick cotton blankets, plush and heavy, pooled around your legs. Your bedframe rose high above the floor, carved from pale oak and draped with soft hanging curtains that framed the space like a private sanctuary. Gauzy fabric in shades of pink and warm orange drifted gently with the breeze, the whole bed felt like it floated in a sunset.
Your pillows were the softest thing in the entire castle. Goose feathers, your father’s favorite merchant, had once proudly explained while presenting them to the court, hand stitched and stuffed until they held their shape like clouds. You had never slept on anything else.
Tonight you wore one of your nightgowns, a delicate pink garment that brushed the tops of your ankles. Fine lace trimmed the neckline and sleeves, the thin fabric almost translucent where the candlelight touched it. The soft glow of dozens of candles flickered against the stone walls of your chamber, casting golden shadows that danced across the tapestries and carved furniture. Melted wax dripped slowly down the sides of the candles and hardened in small pale puddles across the floor.
The room smelled faintly of lavender oil and spring air.
You sighed and rolled onto your stomach, the mattress dipping beneath you. Your long hair spilled around your shoulders and down your back like liquid silk, cascading across the blankets as you rested your cheek on your folded arm.
Your eyes drifted toward the tall double doors that opened onto your balcony. They had been left open.
Beyond them the night breathed softly, and the early spring wind slipped into your chamber in gentle gusts. The breeze moved through the curtains and window drapes like slow ocean waves, the fabric rising and falling in quiet rhythm. The air was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of distant pine forests beyond the castle walls.
You watched the movement for a while, lost in thought. A knock sounded at your chamber door. Your head lifted immediately.
You pushed yourself off the bed and padded across the room barefoot, the stone floor cool beneath your feet. When you opened the door, your mother stood in the hallway already dressed for travel.
A dark cloak hung from her shoulders, the hood lowered.
Behind her, farther down the corridor, you could hear your father’s voice echoing through the stone halls. He was arguing with someone again. The words were indistinct, but the tone was unmistakable. Sharp. Frustrated.
Your mother leaned slightly closer to you.
“Your father and I will be gone for a while,” she said quietly.
You blinked at her.
At nearly twenty two, most women your age in neighboring kingdoms were already married and producing heirs. But your father had made a vow long ago that he would never trade away his only child in some political marriage. Many lords had tried to convince him otherwise. He never budged.
You scrunched your nose slightly. “Where?” you asked.
Your mother reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering for a moment in a way that felt strange. “You will have a knight with you at all times.” The words were simple, but something about them made your stomach twist slightly.
Before you could ask anything else, she had already stepped away. Her cloak swirled behind her as she walked down the hall toward the stairwell where your father’s voice still echoed.
You stood in the doorway watching her disappear.
Then—
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The sound of metal armor approaching.
You turned your head slowly.
A knight stepped into view.
He was tall. Broad shouldered. Fully armored from head to toe in polished metal that reflected the torchlight of the hallway. A helmet concealed his face completely, leaving only narrow slits where his eyes would be.
The armor made him look massive, like a moving statue of iron.
He stopped a few feet away and dipped his head toward you in a silent acknowledgment. Even through the armor you could tell he was large, powerful. And strangely… He smelled faintly of pine.
You stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say.
Then you turned and walked back into your chamber, leaving the door open behind you as you returned to the bed. You climbed back up onto the soft mattress, sitting near the center while your long hair fell down past your hips in thick waves.
The knight stepped just inside the room.
The metal of his armor shifted quietly as he moved.
You glanced around your chamber before looking back toward him. “Will you always be in that armor?” you asked, raising a playful brow. Your tone carried a small teasing lilt.
The knight didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Didn’t even tilt his head. Just stood there. Silent.
You waited.
Still nothing.
You huffed dramatically and flopped back down onto the bed, rolling onto your side so your back faced him. “I didn’t want to talk to you anyway,” you muttered into the pillows.
You closed your eyes and tried to let sleep take you.
The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, the silk sheets cool against your skin, the feather pillows cradling your head like clouds. The room was quiet except for the faint hiss of candle wicks burning low along the walls. Outside your balcony doors, the night wind drifted lazily through the curtains, carrying the smell of damp earth and blooming spring flowers from the castle gardens below.
Everything about the room was designed for comfort.
Everything except the knight.
You tried to ignore it at first.
You turned onto your side.
Then onto your back.
Then onto your stomach.
The blankets tangled around your legs as minutes stretched into an hour… then another.
Clink.
The faint scrape of metal shifting.
Your eyes opened again.
You stared up at the painted ceiling above your bed. Deep blue paint stretched across the curved stone, scattered with tiny golden stars and pale silver moons that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. You had loved it as a child. Your father had hired a painter to create it when you were eight after you told him you wished you could sleep under the sky every night.
Tonight it only made you more restless.
You rolled again, groaning quietly into the pillow.
Another hour passed, sleep refused to come.
The sound of armor shifting softly in the corner of the room made your jaw tighten.
Finally you pushed yourself upright.
The blankets slid down your lap as you sat there in your pink lace nightgown, hair spilling around your shoulders and down your back like a heavy curtain.
Across the room, the knight moved instantly.
He straightened.
The faint metallic creak of his armor followed the movement.
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
You hadn’t even noticed he had been sitting down before. At some point during the night he must have allowed himself to rest against the wall beside the door. Now he stood again, rigid and silent like some statue of iron.
Watching you.
You stared at him for a long moment.
“Why don’t you leave?!” you suddenly snapped. Your voice cut sharply through the quiet room.
“I can hear your suit!” you continued angrily, pointing at him. “I can hear every little movement and scrape and clang. I can’t sleep with that sound!”
The knight didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
The silence stretched.
Outside, the moon hung high in the sky beyond your balcony doors. Pale silver light poured across the floor of your chamber, mixing with the dim glow of dying candles.
You knew the time, in two hours the sun would begin to rise.
You pressed your lips together.
Then muttered bitterly, “The armor is stupid.”
With a frustrated huff, you threw the blankets aside and climbed out of bed.
Your bare feet touched the cold stone floor as you crossed the room toward the door of your chamber, intent on leaving just to prove that you could.
But the knight moved.
In one smooth step he blocked your path.
You stopped short, glaring up at the towering figure of metal.
He simply shook his head once beneath the helmet.
Your eyes widened in disbelief.
You shoved against his chest plate.
“You have no right to block my way!” you screeched, anger bubbling up instantly. “Do you know who I am? I should have you hung for this!”
The knight’s gloved hand came down to rest gently on your shoulder, attempting to guide you back.
You slapped it away immediately.
“A knight never touches a princess!” you snapped, your voice echoing against the stone walls.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you spun away from him, stomping across the chamber in frustration. The lace of your nightgown brushed angrily around your ankles as you marched toward the open balcony.
The knight followed.
You could hear the armor again.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
He stopped in the doorway of the balcony behind you, standing guard.
What the hell was going on here?
You walked forward and gripped the stone railing with both hands, leaning over slightly to look down at the sleeping town below.
The world outside seemed perfectly normal.
The castle gardens stretched beneath your balcony in neat rows of hedges and flowers. Moonlight reflected softly off the small fish pond your father had built for you when you were younger, the water perfectly still.
Beyond the castle gates, the town rested quietly. You could even see the bakery across the square, its chimney dark now but already preparing for the early morning ovens.
Nothing looked wrong.
Nothing looked dangerous.
Yet here you were with a silent metal statue following you around your own chamber.
You groaned and rubbed your face before turning around again.
“I want a different knight,” you announced.
The knight didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Just stood there.
You marched straight up to him, anger rising again.
“Are you listening to me?!” you demanded.
Still nothing.
That was the final straw.
With a frustrated growl, you shoved him hard and grabbed the helmet, ripping it upward before he could react.
The heavy metal piece came free suddenly.
Both of you stumbled backward from the force.
Your feet tangled and you crashed to the stone floor with a startled gasp.
The knight staggered with you.
Something bright flashed in the candlelight.
Golden hair.
You heard a quiet curse slip from the knight’s lips.
Your vision cleared as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows.
And then you saw.
Your breath caught.
The knight standing before you… wasn’t a man.
It was a woman.
Her long golden hair spilled messily around her shoulders where it had been trapped beneath the helmet. Her face was tense from the fall, strong features twisted slightly in irritation as she rubbed the back of her neck.
She looked down at you.
Then sighed.
“I was hired by your father,” she said finally.
Her voice was low. Calm. Not masculine at all.
“I am here to protect you.” she muttered
You stared at her, blinking, your face scrunched in confusion.
“You’re a woman.” it came out of your lips before you could stop it.
She closed her eyes briefly, clearly already tired of this conversation.
Then she began removing the armor, one piece at a time.
The metal plates clattered softly as she set them aside on the stone floor. Beneath the armor she wore a simple dark tunic and fitted black animal skin trousers, the practical clothing of traveling knights.
Without the armor she looked even taller.
Stronger.
Broad shoulders, powerful muscular arms, the quiet strength of someone who had lived their life with a sword in hand. She stepped closer and offered you a hand.
You hesitated, then allowed her to pull you to your feet.
Her grip was firm but careful.
“No more metal sounds,” she murmured. Then she turned slightly toward your bed. “Go to sleep.”
You slowly walked back toward the bed, your mind spinning as you climbed beneath the blankets again.
Your eyes stayed locked on her.
A female knight?
You had never heard of such a thing.
You stared at the woman standing quietly beside your door, golden hair loose around her shoulders. One strange thought crept slowly into your mind, you wondered if your father even knew.
The thought made your stomach twist.
If your father had hired a woman because he believed you might… what? Seduce the knight? Sneak off with him like some reckless princess in a scandalous ballad?
The idea burned through you like fire.
You sat up so suddenly the blankets fell from your shoulders in a rush of silk and feathers.
Across the room the knight reacted instantly.
She straightened, her body snapping back into alert posture so quickly it almost looked painful. Her brows lifted slightly in surprise as she watched you.
You pointed a finger straight at her. “Why a woman?” you demanded, your voice low but sharp.
The knight hesitated. Her jaw shifted as if she were deciding whether she should answer at all. Her eyes dropped briefly to the stone floor.
She swallowed.
“Men…” she began quietly.
Then she stopped.
Your eyes widened. “Does my father think I’d fuck the knight?!” you blurted.
The knight’s head snapped up immediately.
Her hands lifted in front of her in quick panic, her face flushing a deep shade of red beneath the candlelight. “No—!”
But you were already spiraling.
“I wouldn’t ever do that!” you continued, scandalized. “Why would he think that? That’s ridiculous!”
She shook her head quickly, trying to find the words. “There are… stories,” she said carefully. Her voice had lowered again, almost embarrassed. “Stories from other kingdoms.”
She inhaled slowly.
“Male knights who…” she hesitated again, her eyes drifting away from you toward the balcony doors. “…who see a young woman alone and vulnerable. And they…” Her jaw tightened slightly. “…they betray their kingdom.”
The words settled into the quiet room.
Oh.
Your anger didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Your fingers curled into the blankets beneath you.
You swallowed.
“Well,” you said slowly, “who’s to say you wouldn’t?”
Her head turned back toward you instantly.
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
You sat up straighter, folding your legs beneath you as you knelt on the bed. Your hair slid over your shoulders in thick waves, falling down your back like a brown waterfall.
“I’ve heard of it too,” you said casually. “Women who like women.”
The knight froze.
You could practically see the moment the words hit her.
Her ears turned bright red. She cleared her throat, clearly trying to regain control of the situation.
“You’re tired,” she said firmly. “You need—”
But you were already moving.
Before she could finish the sentence, you slipped your fingers beneath the straps of your nightgown and pulled it over your head.
The soft pink fabric slid down your arms and fell to the bed.
Underneath—
Nothing.
Cool night air brushed across your skin instantly, goosebumps rising along your arms and chest. Candlelight flickered across the soft curves of your body as you sat there on the bed completely bare.
The knight went completely still.
You tilted your head slightly, watching her.
“Look at me,” you said softly.
Your fingers drifted slowly across your breasts, more out of stubborn defiance than anything else. You let out a soft sound as you toyed across one of your nipples.
“Well?” You said flirtatiously licking your lips.
The knight’s jaw clenched. She bit her lip hard enough that you could see the tension in her cheek.
But she didn’t look. Her gaze snapped firmly toward the floor instead.
Her breathing had changed now.
Heavier.
Uneven.
A faint sheen of sweat had formed at her temples.
She shut her eyes tightly.
“Please, princess,” she said, her voice strained. “It’s late. You have duties tomorrow.”
You leaned back into the mountain of pillows behind you, propping yourself up comfortably as the silk sheets pooled around your legs.
“I’d like you to help me sleep,” you said sweetly. Your fingers ghosted down your body you let out soft whimpers as you slid them between your legs.
Her eyes flew open.
She looked at you again—really looked this time—and immediately sucked in a sharp breath.
Her thighs shifted where she stood as if her body didn’t quite know what to do with itself. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
And for the first time since she had arrived in your chamber…
The knight looked completely and utterly flustered.
A soft sound slipped from your lips before you could stop it.
Your fingers had drifted lower without much thought, brushing along the warm skin of your inner thigh as the cool air of the room wrapped around you. The candlelight flickered across the stone walls and across your bare skin, shadows shifting and dancing with every small movement you made.
Your hips lifted slightly from the mattress as you stuck two fingers deep into your wet cunt. Your body reacted to the sensation, the silk sheets sliding softly beneath you.
And then—
Footsteps.
Quick.
Heavy.
You barely had time to blink before she was there.
The mattress dipped sharply as the knight moved beside you with startling speed. One strong hand grabbed your arm while the other reached for the discarded nightgown still tangled in the blankets.
Before you could protest, she hauled you upright.
Your hair spilled forward over your shoulders as she yanked the nightgown over your head in one swift motion, the pink lace catching briefly on your arms before settling back into place around your body.
“Enough.”
Her voice was flat.
Firm.
There was no teasing in it now.
No hesitation.
Just command.
You barely had time to react before she pushed you backward again, guiding you firmly down onto the mattress. The pillows shifted beneath your head as she pressed you flat against the bed.
The blankets followed a second later.
She pulled them up quickly, tucking the soft cotton around your body until you were completely covered from shoulders to feet like a stubborn child being forced to sleep.
“Goodnight,” she said.
Then she stepped away.
You blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, stunned.
Slowly, your gaze drifted toward her.
She stood beside the bed for a brief moment longer, and the candlelight revealed something she clearly hadn’t meant to show.
Her face was flushed.
A deep, unmistakable red had spread across her cheeks and ears. Her jaw was tight, and her breathing was heavier than before.
But it was her eyes that caught your attention.
For just a split second—before she turned away—you had seen it.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Something else.
Something warmer.
Something that looked dangerously close to hunger, or need.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
She turned and walked back across the room, her steps controlled now, slower, as if she were forcing herself to regain discipline.
When she reached the door, she stopped and resumed her position beside it.
Straight-backed.
Rigid.
Sword in hand.
A perfect statue of duty once again.
You watched her from beneath the blankets, your lips curling slowly into a mischievous smirk.
CW : Age gap if you squint, PLUS SIZED READER, power kink, cheating, modern au, new york, assistant reader, readers a little awkward but we love her anyway, sugar mommy, SMUT, fingering, cunninglings, strap, bondage, lingerie
A/N : guys im working on the stalker fic trust
The train ride home feels longer than it should.
You sit near the back, the car mostly empty, lights flickering overhead like they can’t decide whether to stay on or just give up. Your reflection stares back at you in the darkened window—smudged lipstick, swollen lips, collar slightly crooked, and that unmistakable shadow just below your jawline.
You touch it.
The spot Sevika’s mouth lingered.
Your stomach twists.
You shouldn’t have done it. You knew that the second you left the bar. But it doesn’t erase the memory of her hands on your body. The way your name sounded in her mouth. The way you wanted it. Craved it.
You close your eyes and grip the subway pole tighter. It doesn't help. The shame is thick and sour, crawling over your skin like something alive.
By the time you get to your stop, the guilt is louder than your footsteps.
Your apartment is dark when you unlock the door. One flickering lamp lights the living room, the faint buzz of the TV still running. Your boyfriend is half-asleep on the couch, blanket around his legs, a takeout box resting on the armrest beside him.
He stirs when the door clicks shut.
“Where the hell were you?” he mumbles, rubbing his face. “You said you were going for drinks. That was, like, four hours ago.”
Your heart skips. “Sorry. I lost track of time. First day stuff... they wanted to celebrate.”
He stares at you for a second too long, and your pulse races. You shift your hair slightly, trying to angle it over the mark Sevika left.
But he doesn’t notice.
Instead, he sits up, arms outstretched with a sleepy groan. “Come here.”
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
Then you cross the room and let him pull you into his arms, the warmth of his chest unfamiliar tonight. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. It’s slow. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that used to feel like love.
But now?
Now it just feels like lying.
“You smell good,” he mumbles into your hair. “Glad you had fun.”
You force a small laugh. “Yeah... me too.”
You close your eyes and let him hold you like nothing’s changed.
But everything has.
And deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time before this cracks wide open.
You woke up early.
Too early.
The kind of early where the light coming in through your blinds made everything look soft and blue, and the guilt still sat heavy in your chest like you'd swallowed a stone. But instead of spiraling, you did something else—rummaged through your closet.
You wanted to feel like you today.
So you slipped into a soft grey vest, something a little snug across the chest but not suffocating. The short-sleeved collared shirt underneath is crisp, clean. Paired with your flowy black maxi skirt, it moves with you—comfortable, confident, a little vintage librarian if you squint.
You check the mirror once, twice. It doesn’t scream “corporate,” but you don’t care.
For once, you feel good. Or at least better.
The train is less crowded this morning. You grab a seat near the back, setting your bag down beside you. You're flipping through your phone when someone plops down across from you with zero warning.
“Damn, girl. You look adorable.”
You glance up—Jinx.
Same wild blue braids, oversized bomber jacket, mismatched socks in loafers. She’s sipping an iced coffee the size of her head and looks like she hasn’t slept but somehow still radiates energy.
You smile. “Thanks. Closet panic. I didn’t want to pop a button again.”
Jinx snorts. “Honestly? Respect. You survived a boardroom and Sevika’s death stare. You deserve a little wardrobe crisis.”
You laugh, and she leans in like she’s about to let you in on a secret.
“Okay, so—there’s this cocktail thing in a few days. Fancy company event. Everyone’s invited, assistants too.”
You nod, eyebrows raised. “That sounds... terrifying.”
“Oh, it is.” she grins. “Dress code, open bar, people trying to pretend they’re more important than they are—it’s a blast. You coming?”
“I guess I have to now,” you say with a smile, then add, “Do we bring plus-ones?”
Jinx nods. “Yeah. They want it to feel ‘socially enriched’ or whatever PR bullshit they said in the email. You bringing your guy?”
Your stomach flips.
You hesitate just long enough for her to notice, but not long enough for her to comment.
“Yeah,” you say finally. “Probably.”
Jinx sips her coffee, watching you. “Cool. We’ll all be there, and a few other people aswell”
You nod slowly
She leans back. “And Sevika usually shows up late. Quiet. Broody. Like Batman if Batman was hotter and more emotionally repressed.”
You choke on your breath a little, but cover it with a laugh.
Jinx just grins at you.
“See you in the office, cutie.”
She gets off at the next stop, waving as she goes.
You sit back in your seat, suddenly very aware of what this cocktail party could mean.
And how complicated things are about to get.
You spend most of the morning pretending to work while actively avoiding eye contact with Sevika’s closed office door.
Every time you glance that way, your stomach flips. You’re sure she’s stewing in there—probably plotting your firing or worse, treating you like you’re invisible. That would almost be easier.
So when your desk phone buzzes with a message:
“Come in.” —your blood turns to ice.
You stand, straighten your vest, and try to breathe like a normal human as you push open the door.
Sevika’s at her desk, sleeves rolled, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show that same stretch of ink. She’s leaning back in her chair, boots crossed at the ankle, like nothing in the world could touch her.
Except her eyes are locked on you the second you step inside.
You swallow. “You wanted to see me?”
She nods toward the door behind you. “Close it.”
Your hand hovers on the knob for a second too long, but you do it.
The soft click feels like a trap.
“I figured you’d be crawling out of your skin all day,” she says, tone casual, almost amused. “Relax. I’m not mad.”
You blink. “You’re not?”
A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Why would I be mad? You practically came all over my hand last night.”
You flinch. “Sevika—”
“No one made you moan my name,” she continues, rising from her chair. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best part of your week.”
She’s in front of you now, close again—too close. You take a step back, but she follows, always one breath away from pinning you to the wall.
“I told you I shouldn’t have,” you say, voice tight. “It was a mistake. I was drunk.”
“You were wet,” she counters, low and dangerous. “There’s a difference.”
Your mouth opens—no words. Just heat crawling up your throat.
“I can give you better,” she murmurs, eyes dark and slow-burning. “You don’t owe him loyalty just because you’re scared of being alone.”
You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”
Sevika scoffs. “You keep saying that. But you don’t look convinced.”
Then, before you can stop her, she drops to her knees.
Right there.
Her hands find your hips, grip firm and sure through the fabric of your skirt. She looks up at you, and something in your chest stutters.
“Tell me to stop,” she says, voice husky, lips inches from your waistband. “Mean it.”
You should. You really should.
But your hands stay at your sides, frozen.
You don’t push her away.
You don’t even move.
Then—
“Sevika, do you—”
The door opens.
Mel freezes in the doorway, one brow raised, her perfect blazer catching the light. Her eyes flick from Sevika on her knees to you, cheeks flushed, mouth parted.
Sevika doesn’t flinch.
Mel slowly, slowly shuts the door behind her without looking away.
The second Mel shuts the door, Sevika finally rises to her feet—slowly, deliberately, like she’s still not embarrassed. You’re the one left trembling.
But you don’t stay.
You don’t even think. You just move.
You throw open the office door and bolt into the hallway, nearly running over someone from accounting. Your skirt swishes around your ankles as you spot Mel turning the corner toward the elevators.
“Mel! Mel, wait—”
She doesn’t stop immediately, but you catch up, heels clicking against the tile in rapid panic.
“Please,” you gasp, breath catching as you reach her. “Please don’t tell anyone. It wasn’t—nothing even happened—”
Mel finally stops and turns, folding her arms across her chest. Her expression isn’t cold. It isn’t angry either. It’s… tired. Complicated.
“I won’t say anything,” she says, voice soft. “You have my word.”
You breathe out a shaky sigh, your shoulders sagging with relief.
“But,” she continues, “you should know... people already talk.”
Your blood chills. “What do you mean?”
Mel looks at you with something like pity. “This office? It's a glass box. Everyone sees everything. You think they didn’t notice Sevika acting different yesterday? You leaving early? That mark on your neck?”
Your hand instinctively rises to cover it.
“I didn’t mean for anything to happen—” you start, voice cracking.
“I know,” Mel cuts in gently. “But it doesn’t matter. In a place like this, rumors grow faster than promotions. All it takes is one glance. One smirk. One flushed face in the hallway.”
You look down, shame crawling up your spine.
Mel sighs and softens, placing a hand on your arm. “You’re not the first. And you’re not stupid. But Sevika… she’s not simple. Being close to her never is.”
You swallow hard. “So what do I do?”
Mel lets her hand fall back to her side.
“Be careful,” she says. “With her. With you. Because whether you meant to or not… you're in it now.”
Then the elevator dings, and she steps inside, leaving you standing in the hallway alone, the weight of your choices settling in your bones like concrete.
And for the first time, you’re not sure if you’re more afraid of losing your job—
—or losing yourself to Sevika again.
You wait outside her office for a long time.
Long enough that your nerves start to feel less like panic and more like a low, buzzing ache under your skin. The adrenaline is gone. All that’s left is the shame. The guilt. And the heat of her touch still ghosting your hips.
You finally knock, just once.
“Come in.”
Sevika’s voice is calm. Cool. Like nothing happened.
You step in slowly, shutting the door behind you. She’s at her desk, one arm resting lazily on the surface, the other tapping a pen against a manila folder. Her eyes flick up when you enter but don’t linger.
“I talked to Mel.”
“Obviously,” she mutters.
You take a few steps closer, but not too close.
“I’m serious this time,” you say, voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “You have to stop. No more flirting. No more… whatever that was. I made a mistake, and I’m staying with my boyfriend. I’m not doing this again.”
Sevika raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. She just leans back in her chair, gaze unreadable. “Fine.”
You blink. “...Seriously?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You’re not the first girl to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”
Your stomach sinks. “That’s not what I—”
She cuts you off by opening a drawer and sliding a white envelope across the desk toward you.
You eye it like it might bite you.
“What’s that?”
“For the tights,” she says dryly. “You ripped them last night. And your blouse looked like it was about to quit during the meeting.”
You don’t move. “I don’t need pity money.”
Sevika sighs through her nose, annoyed. “It’s not pity, sweetheart. It’s compensation. You work for me. You’re supposed to look like you belong here.”
You hesitate. Then pick up the envelope and peek inside.
Cash.
Too much. Way too much.
This is not “replace your tights” money. This is “rent for two months” money. Or “disappear into another city and start over” money.
Your heart jumps into your throat. “This is insane.”
Sevika stands slowly, pushing her chair back as she walks around the desk—measured, controlled, still a storm beneath her skin.
“I don’t give people what they deserve,” she says, voice low, “I give them what I want to give. And I want you dressed like someone who knows her worth.”
You meet her eyes, and for a split second, you almost say something.
But you just nod. “Thanks.”
She nods back, then gestures toward the door. “You should get back to your desk.”
You turn to leave—but her voice stops you just before you open the door.
“You looked good today,” she murmurs, softer this time. “Comfort suits you.”
You don’t look back.
You just walk out, envelope clutched in your hand like a secret you’re not sure what to do with.
It’s your day off.
For once, you’re not rushing to get dressed or worrying about whether your shirt will survive a full workday. You're in comfy leggings, a tank top and a black jacket, your hair is messy and you look like you just rolled out of bed even if you did try to brush it a little. No makeup, no heels, just you and a half-empty shopping cart that doesn’t squeak when you push it.
For the first time in a long time, grocery shopping feels... nice.
You grab the name-brand mac and cheese without flinching. The good almond milk. Even a little candle from the home aisle, because screw it—you deserve soft lighting and lavender.
You’re halfway through comparing peanut butter prices when you feel it.
That shift in the air. That weird, subtle gravity that tugs at you, makes the back of your neck prickle.
You glance up.
And there she is.
Sevika.
In Target.
Wearing a long, wool coat that probably costs more than everything in your cart. Her hair’s tied back again, sunglasses pushed up onto her head, dark slacks and a fitted top that absolutely do not belong between rows of laundry detergent and Pop-Tarts. She’s pushing a red basket like it personally offended her.
You blink. Once. Twice.
She spots you.
And smirks.
You panic and pretend to read the back of a Nutella jar. Real smooth.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she drawls as she approaches, voice low and vaguely amused.
You force a smile, pushing your cart an inch forward. “I could say the same. You don’t really strike me as the ‘bullseye deals’ type.”
She glances into your cart. “Treating yourself?”
You shrug. “Using my pity money wisely.”
That earns a sharp laugh from her—short, real.
“Still mad?”
“No,” you admit. “Just trying to feel normal for a minute.”
Sevika’s eyes linger on you. The oversized hoodie. The way your hair’s all loose and soft and you. Not Corporate You. Just You.
“I like this version,” she says, voice softer now. “You’re real like this.”
You hesitate, cart between you like a shield. “You stalking me?”
“Coincidence,” she shrugs. “Or fate, if you're feeling dramatic.”
You roll your eyes, but it’s half a smile. “You here for snacks or a personality transplant?”
“Neither,” she says, grabbing a box of granola bars and tossing them into her basket like it’s a power move. “Just needed trash bags.”
You stare at her.
“You’re too rich to take out your own trash.”
“I didn’t say they were for me,” she says, already turning toward the next aisle. “See you Friday, sweetheart.”
She disappears between frozen pizzas and Lean Cuisines, and you’re left standing there, heart weirdly fast, fingers gripping the handle of your cart a little too tight.
You sigh.
Of course Sevika looks good at Target.
You drop your groceries off at the apartment, still feeling Sevika’s smirk lingering somewhere in your ribs. Your boyfriend’s out—left a note about going to a friend’s place. You don’t think twice about it. You text Caitlyn.
You still down for coffee? I need your face and your moral compass. Bad.
She texts back almost immediately.
On my way. My treat. You’re getting the giant muffin too.
The café is cozy, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore that’s always closed for “inventory.” The barista already knows your order—large iced caramel something, extra whipped cream—and Caitlyn’s sipping black coffee like her soul depends on it.
You take the first sip and finally exhale like you haven’t all day.
“So,” Caitlyn says, crossing her legs. “What’s this about a moral crisis?”
You bite your straw, unsure how to even begin.
“I… did something stupid.”
Her brows lift just slightly. “Define ‘stupid.’ Like, crash-your-ex’s-wedding stupid, or get-back-with-your-ex stupid?”
You look down at your drink.
Then say it.
“I slept with my boss.”
Caitlyn blinks. Slowly. Then takes the most dramatic sip of coffee you’ve ever seen.
You brace for it. The judgment. The disappointment. Anything.
But all she says is, “Well. That’s very ‘HBO original series’ of you.”
You stare. “Caitlyn—”
“I mean, I knew your life was messy,” she adds, leaning back. “But this is next level. I’m impressed.”
“Caitlyn.”
She softens immediately, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.
“Hey. I’m on your side, remember? Always.”
Your throat tightens. “Even if I’m a home-wrecking, morally compromised disaster?”
“Especially then,” she says, giving you that rare smile—the real one, not the sarcastic smirk she gives annoying people at parties. “You needed something. You got it. And now we figure out what you’re gonna do next.”
“I’m staying with him,” you say quietly. “My boyfriend. I told her it was a mistake.”
Caitlyn’s eyes flick down. She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t say what you already know she’s thinking.
Instead: “Do you want to stay with him?”
You don’t answer right away.
She doesn’t push.
She just leans back, sipping her coffee again, eyes soft.
“Whatever you decide,” she says, “I’ll be here. To support you.”
You laugh—sharp and real and just a little broken.
She clinks her coffee cup against your plastic lid. “You’re not alone in this.”
The boutique Caitlyn drags you to is one of those clean, Pinterest-board-looking places with neutral walls, racks spaced perfectly apart, and a woman at the front desk who gives you complimentary cucumber water just for walking in.
You’re overwhelmed within five seconds.
Caitlyn, of course, is thriving.
“Okay,” she says, already flipping through hangers like a pro. “We want business casual, but comfy. Professional, but still you. So no more button-downs that look like they’re losing a fight with your chest, got it?”
You laugh. “Okay, okay. Deal.”
She hands you a soft sage green blouse with fluttery sleeves and a pair of black wide-leg pants that feel like pajamas but somehow look expensive.
You try them on.
You twirl a little in the mirror.
You look… good.
“You look hot,” Caitlyn says from outside the changing room, leaning dramatically against the door. “Hot and employed.”
You snort. “High praise.”
You walk out and grab another outfit—a soft cream cardigan, a fitted tank underneath, and a midi skirt with a tiny floral pattern. Comfortable. Confident. Something you can actually breathe in.
“Perfect,” Caitlyn says, nodding like a fashion judge. “Now…”
She pulls a black dress from the rack like a magician revealing her final trick.
It’s sleek. Short. A body-con that hugs all the right places with subtle ruching at the waist and a square neckline that’s flirty but still tasteful.
“This,” she says, “is the dress. Cocktail party. Show up. Make Your mark on that place..i mean if you haven't already for disappearing into the bathroom with the ceo”
You take it from her carefully, the fabric silky between your fingers.
“Cait,” you say, holding it up. “It’s… tight.”
She smirks. “And you’ve got a body worth showing off. Let her choke on it.”
You laugh, pressing the dress to your chest. “Okay, fine. This is the one.”
You don’t tell her how your heart races imagining Sevika seeing you in it.
You don’t have to.
Caitlyn sees the look in your eyes and just nods.
“You’ve got this.”
The suit hangs on the back of the bedroom door, still in its garment bag, untouched.
You’d picked it out yesterday. A simple black two-piece, nothing too flashy. Just… clean. Respectable. It felt like the least you could do—if you were dragging him into this cocktail party, you might as well make sure he looked like he belonged.
He didn’t even say thank you.
Now it’s the morning before the event. You’re moving around the apartment, folding laundry, fixing your hair into a loose ponytail, pretending everything is fine.
He leans in the doorway, yawning. Shirtless. Watching you with that sleepy grin he used to wear back when things felt simple.
“You know,” he says, walking over and sliding his hands around your waist, “we’ve got a little time before you head out for that pre-party work stuff…”
His lips brush your neck, warm and familiar. One hand starts to slip beneath your shirt.
Your stomach drops.
The familiar twist of guilt and disinterest coils tight in your gut. His touch feels wrong now—not cruel, not mean… just wrong.
You grab his hand gently and pull it away. “Not right now. I’m—uh—cramping.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing for a second. Then he sighs and steps back, not pushing, but clearly annoyed.
“Figures,” he mutters. “You’ve been weird lately.”
You force a tight smile. “I’ve just been tired. Work's been a lot.”
He shrugs and grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t forget we’ve got that thing tonight.”
“I won’t,” you say, already turning back to fold the same T-shirt you’ve touched three times.
He leaves the room.
You exhale slowly, your hands trembling just slightly.
The suit still hangs untouched.
And the black dress waits folded in tissue paper inside a boutique bag.
The venue is stunning—soft golden lighting, live jazz humming in the background, servers floating past with sparkling flutes and tiny hors d'oeuvres that look like food for rich fairies.
You walk in on your boyfriend’s arm, your black body-con dress hugging you just right. You feel the eyes on you as you enter—and for once, you don’t shrink under them.
You own it.
Your boyfriend doesn’t comment on the way heads turn. Doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy adjusting his tie and checking his reflection in every polished surface like he invented being mediocre in a suit.
You’re halfway into your second awkward sip of chardonnay when you feel her.
Sevika.
She walks in like the floor was laid out for her—broad shoulders in a dark tailored suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned just low enough to border indecent, no tie. Her hair’s slicked back, jaw set, eyes already scanning the room.
And then they land on you.
Her gaze lingers, intense and unreadable, before sliding to your boyfriend.
You swear the temperature drops.
She stares at him like she’s already picked out the weakest spot to punch first. Her mouth presses into a line. Her jaw ticks.
Your boyfriend, completely oblivious, is in the middle of bragging to Ekko about how he hit diamond rank in some online shooter. Ekko’s politely nodding, clearly dying inside.
You’re barely hearing them. Your attention is locked on Sevika, and she’s watching you right back.
You quickly look away and take a bigger sip of wine than intended.
“Damn, babe, slow down,” your boyfriend says, laughing as he slings an arm around your waist.
You flinch, just slightly.
He doesn’t notice that, either.
You glance across the room again. Sevika’s talking to Mel now—but her eyes keep drifting back to you.
Watching.
Measuring.
Waiting.
You adjust the neckline of your dress, trying not to think about her hands. About her mouth. About the last time you were alone together.
You drain the rest of your chardonnay.
A few hours later and the music’s too loud. The lights are too warm. The voices blur together like you’re underwater.
You laugh when you’re supposed to, nod when your boyfriend talks, sip your wine just to keep your mouth busy—but your chest is tight, your throat’s dry, and your ears are ringing.
And then he says something.
You don’t even catch it, really—some offhand comment about calories or how much you’re drinking.
It hits the same nerve anyway.
You excuse yourself without thinking, barely muttering something about needing air.
The balcony is massive, lined with plants that have no business looking that elegant. The night air is cool, crisp against your skin, and the city glows below like a reflection of the stars. No one’s out here. Just silence, finally.
You dig into your purse and pull out the cigarette you swore you weren’t keeping anymore.
You light it with shaking hands.
The first inhale hits hard. Not smooth, not pleasant—but grounding.
You breathe out slowly, leaning back in one of the sleek patio chairs, staring at the skyline like it might give you answers.
The door clicks behind you.
You don’t need to look.
You know it’s her.
Sevika steps out onto the balcony like she owns it—of course she does. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over and nods toward your cigarette.
“Got another?”
You pause. Then reach into your bag and hand one over.
She lights it from yours, the flame flickering between you. Her fingers brush yours, just barely.
You don’t say anything.
She exhales, then glances over. “Didn’t think you smoked.”
“I don’t,” you say quietly. “Not really.”
She nods once. Like she gets it.
The silence hangs there, warm with shared breath, smoke curling between you.
“I didn’t hit him,” she says eventually.
You laugh—just a small, exhausted huff. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”
“He deserves worse,” she adds, taking another drag. “You looked miserable.”
You look at her. The city lights reflect in her eyes.
“I was.”
She turns to face you fully now, stepping closer, close enough that you can smell the smoke on her lips, the soft scent of whatever expensive cologne clings to her collar.
“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she admits, voice low, dangerous with honesty.
You swallow. “I said it was a mistake.”
“Then why’d you light that cigarette like you were waiting for me?”
Your lips part, but no words come.
She reaches out, fingers brushing the side of your face, then trailing down your arm. Her hand rests gently on your waist, not demanding—just there. Her cigarette burns low between her fingers, forgotten.
You don’t pull away.
When she leans in, you meet her halfway.
The kiss is soft at first—surprisingly so. All breath and hesitation, like she’s asking for permission with her mouth. But then it deepens. Her hand grips your waist tighter. Your fingers curl in the lapel of her suit jacket.
The smoke, the night air, the tension—it all wraps around you, blurring out everything else.
Until—
“Are you serious?”
You both freeze.
Mel’s voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.
You turn your head slowly, lips still kiss-swollen, Sevika’s hand still on your waist.
Mel’s standing in the open balcony door, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but her eyebrow is doing the absolute most.
“Is this, like, a kink?” she says flatly. “You two only hook up when I’m about to walk in?”
You pull away from Sevika like you’ve just woken up mid-dream, breath still shaky, heart thudding in your ears. Her hand lingers on your waist for half a second before you step out of her reach completely.
You don’t meet her eyes.
You just walk.
Your heels click softly against the stone balcony floor as you move past the potted plants and melting ashtray, toward the glowing doorway where Mel’s still standing—expression unreadable, lips pursed, arms crossed like she’s both exhausted and waiting for a good reason not to slap someone.
You reach her side.
You pause.
Your lips part.
“Um—”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, eyes still on the skyline. Not unkind. Just resigned.
You nod. You don't say thank you. You don't have it in you.
You slip past her into the party, leaving the smell of smoke and regret behind you.
Back on the balcony, Sevika exhales hard through her nose, turning away from the city like she could punch the moon if she tried hard enough.
“You have the worst timing,” she mutters.
Mel doesn’t flinch. She finally steps out onto the balcony, letting the door close gently behind her.
“No,” she says. “You have the worst impulse control.”
Sevika shoots her a glare, sharp and tired. “Do you enjoy walking in every time I’m with her?”
“You’re not supposed to be ‘with her’ at all,” Mel snaps, lowering her voice. “She’s your employee. This is your job. You're not supposed to be sneaking off to make out with the assistant like you're in some—some corporate fanfiction!”
Sevika scoffs. “This isn’t just some fling.”
“Then it’s worse.”
Mel’s voice softens just slightly.
“She doesn’t know what she wants yet. And you're not helping.”
Sevika doesn’t respond at first. Her jaw flexes. She crushes the stub of her cigarette into the stone railing, the ember dying with a hiss.
“She was happy with me,” Sevika mutters. “For a second. She looked at me like—like I meant something.”
“And then she walked away,” Mel says gently. “Again.”
That one lands.
Mel sighs, placing a hand on the railing. “You can’t be the person she runs to and the reason she has to run from at the same time.”
Sevika doesn’t say anything.
Mel doesn’t press.
They just stand there—two tired women on a balcony full of secondhand smoke, watching the city sparkle like it’s mocking them.
The night hums quietly around them now, all the chaos and chatter muffled behind thick glass. The city blinks below like it’s listening in.
Mel doesn’t leave.
She just exhales slowly, watching Sevika’s clenched fists, the way her knuckles stay white even though the cigarette’s long dead.
“I thought you said you were fine,” Mel says, her voice not accusatory—just... tired. Familiar.
Sevika doesn’t answer right away. Just stares straight ahead, jaw tight.
Mel turns slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is this about her or is this about samantha?”
A beat.
Two.
Then Sevika scoffs, low and bitter. “Dont say her name like that.”
Mel sighs. “You’ve been a wreck since she left.” she tried to say as gently as possible
Sevika’s shoulders tense. “She didn’t leave. She traded up. Found someone who could give her the picture-perfect shit she wanted. I was just... temporary.”
Mel’s face softens.
“And then you met someone who looked at you like you were more than temporary,” she says, quietly. “And now you’re trying to make that mean something.”
Sevika doesn’t deny it.
She leans on the railing, both arms braced like she’s holding herself up.
“I didn’t even get time to be angry,” she mutters. “It was like—one minute we were fighting, and the next she was engaged. Just done. Like I was some phase.”
Mel tilts her head. “You weren’t.”
Sevika laughs bitterly. “Sure as hell felt like I was.”
She looks up at the sky—like maybe it’ll swallow the lump forming in her throat.
“I’m not used to being the one left behind.”
Mel watches her carefully. Then steps closer, just enough to be beside her, not in front of her.
“You don’t have to bury yourself in someone new to prove you still matter.”
“I’m not,” Sevika says automatically.
“You are,” Mel says gently. “And it’s not fair to either of you.”
Silence falls between them again—heavy, but not hostile. The kind of silence that only happens between people who’ve known each other too long, seen too much.
After a minute, Sevika mutters, “She makes it so fucking hard not to care.”
Mel nods slowly.
“I know.”
You’re standing near the hallway now, away from the main buzz of the party, one hand still loosely cradling your wine glass, the other clutching your little clutch bag like it’s going to keep you grounded.
But you never stopped watching the balcony doors.
And then, there they are.
Sevika and Mel walk in together, side by side.
They aren’t touching.
They aren’t even smiling.
But they’re… close. In that quiet, easy kind of way that doesn’t need words. The kind that says they’ve been through some things. That they know each other.
You notice the way Sevika looks at her. Not intense like how she looked at you on the balcony. But steady. Familiar. Like maybe she’s looked at Mel like that before. Like maybe she still does.
Mel leans in to say something low near Sevika’s ear, and Sevika gives her a tired smirk in return.
It guts you.
You feel ridiculous. And stupid. And young. Like this was never anything to her. Just a new game. A project. Maybe it was never about you at all.
Maybe you were just a stand-in.
Just the next girl who would look at her like she meant something.
Your throat tightens, the party sounds warping around you, distant and unimportant.
You set your wine glass on a table you pass and slip out the side entrance with your boyfriend without saying goodbye. Not to Caitlyn. Not to Ekko. Not to anyone.
Warnings: ex’s, no contact for two years, rough/rushed sex, floor sex, tribbing, Sev eats you out, groping (s! receiving), post nut clarity
Genre: smut, angst
A/n: I’m putting together two dreams I had lol, which was nice cause I haven’t had a Sevika base dream in a longgg time, also inspired by bad idea lol
───────┈ · ·
It’s been two years since Sevika and you have talked. The break up was in y’all junior year of college. She ended it without much of an explanation, three years down the drain like you were nothing. It never sat right with you. Always had a problem of letting things go especially if you feel like it happened in an unfair manner!
You also have a problem saying no to your vagina! She wants to fuck, you fuck! She wants to masturbate, bring out the vibe! It’s non-stop and honestly starting to feel like you’re sex crazed or a goonette.
That being said, this is the horniest you’ve been in a minute. Probably because you gave up one night stands for the month, none of them just did it right. Like her.
Tonight is the night you get smart, listen to anything else besides the demon in-between your legs!
So you hop off your bed and grab your tarot cards. Knocking on them, kissing them, having a swift conversation with them and the universe before asking your questions. Letting them know you need to put this energy somewhere but having nowhere to put it!
The cards shuffled and shuffled…your patience running low but needing to lean on your divination tool is essential at the moment.
The only card to fly out as you repeat the question is “The Tower.”
“So…no matter what, I’m gonna be fucked got it!”
You say your goodbyes and put your cards back on your divination table and go to your special bin.
The last time you fucked someone, you don’t know how but you just wanted Sevika to know. So reflecting on the message of the card, you should (really shouldn’t) reach out!
You grab your trusted vibrator and wiggle your already damp panties off. Laying back on your plush bed, the position all too familiar. But you don’t turn the toy on just yet.
You unblock her number without a second thought and call. A part of you knowing she won’t pick up, another not wanting her, the rest dying for her to!
It only rang once before she said hello.
That hello rocked some reality in your chest but you’re already doing this so why not!
“Hello?” She said, with a slight roughness. “Sorry, I just didn’t think you were gonna pick up.”
“Why are you calling me?” Her tone trying to come off as casual but you know she is excited. Her walls already cracking.
“To check on you…hear your voice…” you squeeze your legs close feeling conflicted cause you’re still horny but you do miss her.
“Well I’m okay, you?”
“I’m pent up, per usual” you say with a laugh, not just referring to your sexual appetite. “Anything I can do to help?” She whispers, almost like she knows.
Before giving her an answer you ask, “where are you? Are you alone?”
“I’m alone baby, let me help.”
“If you really wanna help then come over.”
With that she hang up. Fuzzy minded with an aching clit you look at the wall wondering if this is really something you want to live with. Like what if this damages any chance of getting back together? What if this is how y’all get back together?
Didn’t really matter cause her ass is here. Overthinking eats at time in moments like these…doesn’t help that she drives like a bat outta hell!
You strip your top off as you make your way to the front door. Really thinking on how fast she got her, feeling like that was two minutes.
The wind hits you as you open the door, revealing Sevika. She muttered a fuck under her breath as she walked to you.
Her hands find your waist, as your desperate lips press together. You moan feeling the cold metal in her mouth; the piercing being new.
While walking backwards, your leg hits the coffee table making you go down. Sev let you fall holding in a laugh, “asshole, you could’ve caught me!”
“You look better down there though” she says as she leans down to hover over you. “Gonna listen to me tonight?” She whispers as she kisses down your body.
“Yes! Fuck, I’m gonna listen” you moan as her breath ghost your wet cunt.
Her tongue licks a strip of your pussy and you shiver feeling the piercing bump against your clit. Your hands twist your nipples, needing the friction as they harden and throb.
Her puppy dog eyes gaze to you as her two flesh fingers push into you. Your back arches, and your toes curl. Doesn’t matter if the action is simple or the two of you just start, you always came quick with her.
Sevika pulled back and you damn-near sobbed. “Shut up” she whispers as she stripped, placing her heat over yours. Slowly she drags herself against you. Humping you as long as that meant feeling you against herself.
Your hands trace her abs, slowly rising to her breast. The breast you missed sucking or laying on. Her hips rocked sharply and short, chasing her orgasm, knowing you are already right there.
“I want you back” you moan, regret hitting your chest immediately. Hands cupping her breast and kneading them softly and you look up at her.
“I know” she grunts, looking in any other direction before hunching down to kiss you. She kisses all over your face before whispering in your ear. “I can’t give you that, but I love you.”
Emotions are high and confusing. Internally you want to find a hole and never come out, externally you want to cum and maybe fuck her again if this is the last time. Her eyes are detached and cold as she reaches her orgasm with you. Not the usual dorky smile and shiny eyes.
For the first time, you felt like you were just a fuck to her.
───────┈ · ·
A/n: This fic was gonna go three different ways but I like this transition to an angst narrative, felt like it matched the themes of the song more! Hope y’all enjoy mwah xoxo!!
