[Y/N and Loona sits on the same couch in the officer, He sits down, reading a magazine named "Hell's world records" while Loona lays down her head on the armrest, laying her back on Y/N's lap]
M!Reader : Hmm, hey, Loony—
[Loona's ears twitch immediately, looking away from her phone to look at him]
Loona : Sighs, you really gotta stop talking with blitz...
M!Reader : Chuckles, What? The nickname is cute! Also, I've got a question
[Loona lays her phone down, tilts her head to side, and now, fully staring at him]
M!Reader : If perse, I got kidnapped–
Loona : I'd get you back...
Y/N blink.
M!Reader : WOAH–you didn't even let me finish!
[Loona just shrugs]
Loona : Didn't need to...
M!Reader : Hm, but what if it was, like, a really dangerous situation?
Loona : ...It’s hell... Everything’s a dangerous situation...
[Y/N then smirks a little]
M!Reader : What if I said I wasn't worth the trouble?~
[...Loona lets out a rare, short chuckle, even a smile on her face]
Loona : Then that means I'm gonna save a fucking idiot
M!Reader : Aww♡.... Huh, wait, how long did you say their mission is gonna take?
I checked out your blog and I love your headcanons on both Hazbin and Helluva.
I was hoping I could requests some headcanons of Loona, Verosika, Charlie, and Alastor with an emotional sensitive S/O who tries their best to commit, but can’t because they’re afraid of the relationship falling apart from anything going wrong.
Plus, they’re dealing with a coffee addiction.
Thank you. ☺️
Raw Emotions
Loona
Your connection was volatile, on both ends.
You had strong feelings.
Lots of strong emotions.
But even stronger fears.
Anxiety.
Youd actually have an incredibly intimate relationship, you being incredibly attentive and caring.
The hound very affectionate with you, especially physical affection, and much to her surprise you were... sensitive.
Always checking on your relationship.
Always making sure she was good, showering her in affection.
But she could tell how anxious you got whenever she discussed your relationship.
Though you were quick to admit it was just because you were extremely anxious.
The hound confessing she too was anxious, scared about the two of you becoming serious than... falling apart.
The two of you sharing an soft little moment, where you accepted to just... take things slow.
And you would, staying in a loving, committed relationship for, well, as long as you felt necessary.
Loona would want to commit before you did, the woman all in, loving you and wanting to really get serious.
And well, it was hard for you, fear and anxiety were powerful forces and well, it took time.
And yes, it could be frustrating for the girl, having a partner that had such anxiety, but... well, Loona had her own issues you helped her through, so, well, she just loved you the best she could.
And with enough patience and hard work from both of you, youd comit.
Loving her openly and freely, your romance deep and loving, and yes, you drank waaaay to much caffeine, but Loona was a Hellhound, native to Gluttony.
So she wasn't one to judge.
You'd love her and she loved you, and even if you doubted, anxiety getting the best of you some times, Loona was always there to smack you across the face and Tell you she loved you.
And I mean, what more could you want?
Verosika
Fear.
That was a good way of describing your relationship.
Not fear of each other.
Not even fear of losing the other, not really.
Fear of loving and... losing.
Youd both have your vices.
Booze for her. Coffee for you.
And oddly enough, they seemed to have the same effect.
Youd both over think, over analysing shit.
Always seeing something where there was nothing to see.
But despite this, she... loved you.
It took her a long time to admit it.
Physical affection, sex and such, that was easy. She loved her body. Loved to use it and share it.
But her feelings. That was not something she shared openly. Not since Blitzø.
You loved her. You struggled to admit it, but you did.
Terrified to tell her you had serious feelings for her, pre-emptively apologising for your inability to just commit.
Verosika didnt really say it aloud but she felt much the same, terrified by the idea of loving you and losing you.
So she was exceptionally understanding, always accepting you and tolerating your anxieties and hesitance because, well, she usually felt the same.
In a twisted way, it made her feel much better about her own fears.
It was liberating, knowing her feelings were valid, knowing you had anxiety as well.
The woman was quite affectionate. Loving you physically and emotionally.
She was a Succubus so youd get freaky most days of the week.
But it was those quiet moments afterwards, with both of you breathless, hot and sweaty, youd hold her hand, fingers intertwined and she could just feel the love.
It wouldnt all be sunshine and rainfows, there were days shed, rather hypocritically, be frustrated with your constant hesitancy.
The two of you having the occasional fight, you always feeling terribly, then Verosika would feel terrible for making you feel terrible for something she struggled with.
She'd be the first to confess, gritting her teeth and telling you she... had the strongest emotions for you. Yes, shed describe it as Love.
She... hesitated, but told you she loved you and she knew you had your issues, Vedosika having her own, but she loved you and just hoped youd be honest with her.
No push. No force. Just... honesty.
Youd sit there, breathing heavily, mind a maelstrom of emotions, thoughts and fears.
Youd... tell her you cared so much for her, Hell, you loved her. But it hurt, it hurt knowing it could all end and knowing that your hesitancy could lose her.
Youd kiss her, to her shock, the woman leaning into it before you finally pulled back.
Ypud tell her you loved her, wanted her, you just... fuck it.
You wanted to commit, you wanted her, you just asked for patience.
Verosika would smile, jumping on you, running her tongue along your neck, breathing hot and heavy as she told you youd have all the time in the world.
Charlie
Charlie was so full of love.
From the very start of your relationship she was never hesitant to share her affection with you.
And no duh, she was first to confess her feeling to you.
Youd accept becoming her S/O and you loved her, truly you did but...
She was a princess. THE Princess of HELL!
A Morningstar! And you... you were just some chump off the street.
So like, anxiety was always at a solid 9.63 with her, especially when she interacted with others.
You hated how jealous you could be, how terrified you were that one day shed just shrug you off and go find some noble or something.
Youd try, containing your anxiety, gritting your teeth, doing your best to be a great partner and help her dream.
And yes, all the caffeine didnt help, but you made sure to only give Charlie decaf.
She did not need caffeine!
Charlie, was not an idiot.
She could be dense and painfully nieve, but for those she cared about she paid attention.
And she knew something was wrong.
So one day, as you prepared for the day, shed sit you down asking what was going on.
There was no pressure, but she wanted you to feel like you could trust her, to feel like you could tell her anything.
And after a moment you burst into tears.
Apologising profusely. Apologising for being so jealous and for being so scared of losing her when she showed nothing but love and care.
Charlie just cooed, cupping your cheeks as she leaned down and kissing you on the forehead.
She told you there was nothing wrong with having fears, anxiety and even jealousy, the girl kissing you softly.
She'd tell you she loved you, that you were hers as long as you wanted to be and no doubt or fear would change that.
Youd just hold her close, the both of you sat in silence for a long time before you spoke up.
You told her you loved her. Wanted to be with her. Would do anything for her!
You promised youd be honest, communicate more and... that you loved her more than anything.
It was shaky, but you were communicating now, actually communication.
And any time you needed soem love, or affection, or just some reassurance she was there.
Justice how whenever she needed support and love, there you were, with arms open and a loving word.
Alastor
Alastor was not one to waver, once he decided on something, hed get it sooner or later.
So once he decided you were his S/O, well, he was with you, ride or die.
He was patient, he knew you were sensitive.
'Emotionally fragile' as it was.
I mean, he didnt really understand it, Alastor never did anything in half measures.
So that night when you finally sat him down, explaining how anxious you were, not doubting his loyalty but... scared.
Scared youd lose him. That,one day the elusive 'Radio Demon' would grow tired of you and disappear.
Alastor... didnt like the insinuation that he would simply abandon you.
He was a gentleman, he would never simply abandon you.
But you had made it clear this was a you problem, your anxieties, the man unable to help but think your insistent drinking of coffee to play a part.
The man simply cupped your chin and with the confidence you only found in a man with no shame and all the power, he kissed you.
It was chaste yet passionate all at once, the man pulling back and telling you simply you were his S/O.
And he wasnt going anywhere~
So, as long as it took, you were stuck with him, and he was going to love you so get used to it.
Red faced, youd hug the man, thanking him for his support, the man rolling his eyes.
"My dear, Ive found someone worthy of being my Beloved, thats not someone you simply give up on~"
And wirh a happy little smile you just sat by his side, happy to be loved and seen.
the man's best friend series is a series of smut imagines based on the songs from man's best friend by sabrina carpenter! you can find the first of the instalment here .
below are loose prompts of each song/imagine (loose as it may change while i am writing), no idols have been chosen yet so feel free to request who you think suits that imagine! if multiple idols gets requested for one song i'll put a poll up!
you can request from the boyz, loona, katseye, seventeen, enhypen, and aespa. because i only write smut for idols who are 20+ you cannot request niki, lara, megan & especially yoonchae !!!!
available for requests !!!
go go juice:
(idol) has missed their ex, they can't lie about it. here and there hookups are their thing but it hasn't happened in a while. next thing you know a surprising call from said ex comes through and how can they say no to them?
don't worry i'll make you worry:
(male idol) and y/n has decided to run back their toxic situationship after his begging. this made them realise they have him in the palm of their hands and now they know exactly how they're like, y/n refuses to trust them. the sex is good, a side of having them feel exactly how you felt back then? even better.
goodbye:
(idol) has come back from tour, originally going for their stuff at y/n place, seeing them gives them reminiscent feelings. break up sex? why not?
unable to request as it is completed/being written:
when did you get hot?: COMPLETED <- click to read
eric sohn from the boyz
since when did the boy that y/n grew up next door to become so hot? their mother still being close to the next door neighbours had it's perks, next thing you know you had free concert tickets with a backstage reunion, a side of catchup drinks and confessions that led to something unpredictable.
house tour: COMPLETED <- click to read
sim jaeyun (jake) from enhypen
y/n is proud of their new home, what's even better is for fwb!jake to help "bless" their new place.
tears: COMPLETED <- click to read
yoon jeonghan from seventeen
after a series of shitty first dates, y/n finds it unbelievable they can't find anyone respectful. then they get set up on a blind date by their best friend with jeonghan.
house tour: COMPLETED <- click to read
sophia laforteza from katseye
y/n is proud of their new home, what's even better is for exfwb!sophia to help "bless" their new place.
never getting laid: being written
choi seungcheol from seventeen
when picking up their stuff seungcheol stumbled onto the brand new diary entry of their ex's. written in it is full of wishes that seungcheol never gets laid and he realises he feels the same, the very thought of someone else giving y/n the pleasure they give. they can't live. they realise their dear y/n is crazy but god are they all theirs.
nobody's son: being written
hong joshua from seventeen
after joshua and y/n both experience a terrible break up, they get linked by a mutual friend and start a fwb going. it's called trauma bonding AND having great sex!
sugar talking: being written
yu jimin (karina) from aespa
all karina and y/n do is fight. maybe it's the long distance getting them but all y/n wants is karina home and the latest article of another dating rumour isn't helping their tension.
my man on willpower: being written
lee chan (dino) from seventeen
y/n, the hottest person alive is terribly confused on why their idol boyfriend of six months has gone cold and became a workaholic. (surprise it was all a miscommunication)
we almost broke up again last night: being written
lee heeseung from enhypen
how many times are they going to break up? everyone around y/n and heeseung says but this time it's permanent! they always say that though. but three months has passed, everyone who knows the long-term couple is starting to believe them. until they find themselves at a party, after seeing each other again, it brings up a lot.
manchild:
daniela avanzini from katseye
y/n finally leaves their useless manchild fiancé who they found out cheated on her while on a boys trip to cabo. (female idol) reminds them exactly what she's missed.
──── ( ⚪ ) stuck in a late-night studio session with yves while finishing the final track of your deeply personal album, you try explaining the concept behind your music—but the longer you talk, the more obvious it becomes that yves isn’t focused on the album at all, her dangerously lingering stares turning the suffocating room into something charged with tension neither of you are ready to name.
𝓟aring. dom!idol!ha sooyoung x sub!idol!fem reader.
𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. body worship, clit play, cunnilingus, degration, dirty talk, face fucking, fingering, gropping, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play, pet names, praise, power play, squirting, titsucking, voyeurism.
𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 7,2k.
𝓜asterlist.
the studio is stifling, thick with the scent of lukewarm espresso and the dry, recycled air of the ventilation system. you stare down at the legal pad in your lap, the white space mocking you. it’s been three hours since you sat down, and your notebook is currently hemorrhaging pages. you rip another one out—the ink smeared where your palm dragged over a half-formed bridge—and crumple it into a tight, frustrated sphere.
it joins the miniature mountain range of paper balls scattered across the hardwood floor.
you lean back, your head hitting the soundproof foam of the wall with a dull thud. you’ve been in this chair for years, metaphorically speaking. ever since your debut, you’ve clung to the autonomy of your music like a lifeline. you write your own truths, you weave your own melodies, and you obsess over every inflection of every syllable. it’s why you’re at the top of the billboard charts, and it’s why, right now, you feel like you’re circling the drain of a creative drought.
“you’re going to run out of paper before we hit the chorus, you know.” a voice drawls from the corner of the room, pulling you out of your thoughts in the blink of an eye.
you shift your gaze. yves is lounging on the oversized velvet sofa, her legs draped over the armrest, a tablet balanced on her knees. she’s newer to the industry, a breath of fresh, edgy air that has carved out a fierce, loyal fanbase in a fraction of the time it took you. when your label suggested the collaboration, you were skeptical, but the moment you heard her blend of ethereal vocals and jagged, modern production, you knew it was the missing piece for your fourth album. it’s the twelfth track—the closer—and it has to be perfect.
she catches you staring and lets out a soft, melodic laugh. she isn't mocking you, not really. it’s that affectionate, slightly amused look she’s been giving you all week.
“stop it. i’m trying to work here, you know? having a tough time.” you mumble, picking up your pen again, though your hand hovers aimlessly over the fresh sheet.
“stop what? being a concerned colleague? i’m just teasing you.” she swings her legs down, standing up to stretch, her movements graceful and fluid. she walks over, stepping carefully over your discarded drafts, and leans against the console desk. “you’re putting an amount of pressure on yourself that should be illegal. the staff? they’re playing candy crush in the lobby. the label hasn’t called once today. you’re the only one holding the whip, and honestly? it’s kind of adorable.”
“adorable,” you repeat, a dry smirk touching your lips. “i’m sure the critics will call it ‘tortured genius’ if i finish, and a ‘lack of vision’ if i don't.”
“it’s neither,” she says, her tone shifting. she reaches out, tapping the tip of her finger against the page you’re staring at. “it’s just you. you’re overthinking the honesty of it. you want it to be perfect, but you’re hiding behind the polish. what are you actually trying to say?”
you sigh, the sound echoing in the small room. you look at her—really look at her. she’s bright, sharp, and entirely unbothered by the weight of expectations. it’s enviable. “i want it to sound like… like looking back at the last three years. the fame, the exhaustion, the way i don't recognize the person in the mirror sometimes. but every time i write it, it sounds like a cliché. it sounds like someone complaining about being successful, and i don't want to be that artist.”
yves nods, a small, encouraging hum vibrating in her throat. she pulls up a rolling stool and sits beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. she looks at your mess of crumpled paper and then back at your face, her eyes dark and attentive.
“okay,” she says, her voice dropping to a low, rhythmic cadence. “forget the charts. forget the billboard numbers. if you were sitting in a dive bar, not a recording studio, and someone asked you what happened to the ‘you’ from before the debut, what would you say?”
“i’d say she went missing and didn't even notice,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can censor them.
yves hums again, a low, melodic sound that seems to vibrate through the wood of the desk. she begins to tap a beat on the edge of the console, a slow, syncopated rhythm. “okay. missing but didn't notice. that’s the seed. tell me more. don't worry about the rhyme scheme. just talk.”
you stare at the blinking red light of the microphone in the dark corner of the booth. you close your eyes. “i kept the clothes, i kept the name, i kept the routine. i’m just... i’m like a house with all the lights on but no one living inside.”
yves starts humming a melody—a haunting, descending scale that perfectly matches the weariness in your chest. she begins to jot down notes on her tablet as you continue, your words flowing faster now, no longer filtered through the lens of 'is this catchy?' but through the lens of 'is this true?'
“i think about the silence,” you continue, your eyes still closed. “the kind of silence you only get when you’re surrounded by people who are paid to listen to you. it’s loud. it’s so loud it makes my ears ring.”
“keep going,” she whispers, her eyes locked on your face, her humming weaving through your words like a ghost.
as you speak, you stop worrying about the ink. you stop worrying about the paper. you watch as yves starts to weave your scattered, messy thoughts into a structured narrative. she’s patient. she’s not rushing you, she’s not editing you into a box; she’s acting as a mirror, reflecting your own soul back at you in a way you can finally understand.
the studio starts to feel different. the air isn't stifling anymore; it’s electric. for the first time in months, the weight on your chest begins to lift, replaced by the specific, familiar thrill of creation.
“you know...” yves says softly, stopping her humming as she looks down at the tablet. “you’re not missing. you’re just evolving, and you’re terrified of the shedding skin.”
you look at her, surprised by the depth of her observation. she offers you a small, genuine smile—not the teasing one from earlier, but a look of profound solidarity. “let's try this.” she says, turning the tablet toward you.
you read the lyrics she’s cobbled together from your rambling. they aren't the lyrics you would have written on your own. they’re sharper, more visceral—they have her edge, but your blood. the bridge is a jagged confession, and the chorus is a soaring, melancholic realization of growth. it fits the track perfectly. it fits the album. it fits you.”
“it’s not finished yet,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.
“no,” she agrees, leaning back, her hands behind her head. “but we have the bones now. and the rest? we can build that together.”
you pick up the pen again. this time, you don't hesitate. you start to write, the ink flowing smoothly across the paper, no longer a weapon against your own creativity, but a tool to capture the storm. the mountain of crumpled papers on the floor seems like a lifetime ago.
“you're not so bad at this,” you joke, stealing a glance at her.
yves laughs, that bright, infectious sound filling the room. “i told you, darling. you just needed someone to listen to the noise long enough to find the song underneath.”
yves is still grinning to herself when the room finally settles into a comfortable quiet again. the only sounds left are the faint buzz of the studio lights and the scratch of your pen against paper.
she watches you for a second too long. then another: you’re sitting cross-legged in the swivel chair now, sleeves pushed up your forearms, completely absorbed in rewriting the chorus. your hair is messy from running your hands through it for hours, your lip caught between your teeth in concentration. there’s exhaustion lingering under your eyes, but somehow it only makes you look softer. realer. dangerously pretty.
yves blinks hard and tears her eyes away before you notice.
“so,” she says, leaning back against the desk casually, even though her pulse is suddenly doing something deeply embarrassing in her chest. “what’s the actual concept for the album?”
you glance up immediately, always eager when it comes to talking about your work. “mm? oh.” your face brightens a little, and yves instantly regrets asking because now you’re looking at her directly. “it’s kind of hard to explain.”
“try me.”
you spin the pen between your fingers thoughtfully. “i think… the album’s about identity. or maybe versions of identity.” you pause, searching for the right wording. “like, the way fame turns you into fragments of yourself. every track is supposed to feel like a different room in the same house. some of them are beautiful, some are ugly, some are empty, but they all belong to the same person.”
yves nods immediately like she’s listening, but she is not listening at all. because you’re talking with your hands now, eyes lit up with that passionate spark she’s become horribly addicted to over the past week. your voice has gone softer, more animated, and yves can only stare like a complete idiot.
god.
the studio lighting is unfair to begin with, all low amber glows and soft shadows, but on you? it’s catastrophic. it catches against the curve of your cheekbones, turns your eyes molten, makes your mouth look—
“—and i wanted the final track to feel like acceptance, i guess,” you continue, completely unaware of the lesbian crisis unfolding three feet away from you. “not a happy ending exactly, but more like… making peace with becoming someone new.”
yves is still staring.
you tilt your head. “does that make sense?”
“mhm,” she answers instantly, but it absolutely did not register.
you narrow your eyes slightly, suspicious. “you didn’t hear a single thing i just said.”
“i heard everything.”
“okay,” you say slowly. “then what did i say?”
yves opens her mouth, and nothing comes out, because the only thing looping in her brain right now is the fact your eyes crinkle at the corners when you talk about music, and how your rings catch the light when you gesture, and how she’s pretty sure she would willingly let you ruin her life if you asked nicely enough.
“… identity,” she says finally, with the confidence of someone guessing on a multiple choice test. “and, uh. rooms? you speak in too many metaphors.”
you stare at her for one long second, then you burst out laughing. full–body, genuine laughter.
yves thinks she might actually pass out.
“wow,” you manage between laughs. “you’re unbelievable.”
“in my defense,” she says, trying to recover while fighting a smile of her own, “you’re very distracting.”
the words slip out too naturally. too honestly.
the laughter dies on your lips just a little. for a brief second, the atmosphere shifts.
yves watches your expression soften with surprise, and suddenly she’s hyperaware of how close she’s standing to you. the air in the studio feels warmer now, heavier somehow.
you look away first, clearing your throat softly. “right. well.” you tap your pen nervously against the notebook. “thanks?”
yves grins helplessly, completely gone at this point. “don’t mention it, darling.”
yves should recover. she really should. but instead, she makes the fatal mistake of looking at you again: you’re still smiling faintly from laughing at her, shoulders relaxed now in a way they hadn’t been all night. the tension that had been wound tight around you for hours has finally loosened, leaving you softer around the edges. warmer.
and yves, unfortunately, is only human.
“so,” she says slowly, dragging the word out as she slides back onto the stool beside you. she rests an elbow against the desk, chin propped lazily in her palm. “tell me more about the concepts.”
you squint at her immediately. “are you actually going to listen this time?”
“absolutely.”
the problem is that yves says this while looking at you like a wolf spotting movement in the woods. completely locked in. her eyes drag over your face with shameless focus, lingering just a second too long on your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes. there’s something dangerously intent about it, something heavy and amused and openly fascinated all at once.
it sends heat straight to your ears.
you clear your throat. “okay… anyway. the second half of the album is more stripped back emotionally.” you look down at your notebook while you talk, pretending not to notice the way yves is staring at you like she hung the moon personally. “the first tracks are louder and more performative on purpose. i wanted them to feel crowded. almost suffocating.”
“mhm,” yves hums softly.
still staring. you try to continue. “and then around track seven everything starts unraveling a little. the production gets emptier and the lyrics get more—”
you glance up accidentally. big mistake. because yves is looking at you with the most insane expression you’ve ever seen in your life. relaxed posture, half-lidded eyes, slight tilt of her head like she’s studying something beautiful in a museum she’s absolutely not allowed to touch.
hunter eyes. full predator mode. except instead of hunting prey, she looks like she wants to pin this exact moment to the wall and keep it forever.
your sentence dies instantly, as if a simple action of hers could cause your brain to short–circuit and prevent you from functioning properly. “… what?” you ask cautiously.
“nothing,” yves says. lying. badly. really badly.
you stare at her. “why are you looking at me like that?”
“like what?”
“like you’re plotting something evil.”
yves smiles slowly. oh, that is not a reassuring smile. “can i help it if you get all passionate when you talk about your music?” she asks lightly. “it’s attractive.”
your brain short-circuits for half a second. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, looking away fast enough to make yves grin wider.
“keep talking,” she says softly.
you try. you really do.
“the later tracks are supposed to represent isolation,” you manage, flipping through your notes with suddenly clumsy fingers. “like… realizing you’ve outgrown old versions of yourself and not knowing what replaces them.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
“interesting.”
you glance at her again despite yourself. still staring. still those eyes. yves isn’t even pretending to hide it anymore either. she looks completely absorbed in you, gaze heavy with attention, like every tiny expression crossing your face is the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
it makes your stomach flip violently.
“are you ever going to stop doing that?” you ask weakly.
“doing what?”
“looking at me like you want to bite me.”
that actually catches her off guard. her eyebrows lift, and then a laugh slips out of her—low and dangerously amused. “well,” she says, voice dropping an octave, “now that you mention it…”
you immediately throw a crumpled paper ball at her face.
yves catches it effortlessly without breaking eye contact once. “violent. i like that too. but areful what you wish for, sweetheart. once a predator catches her prize, she doesn’t usually let go until she’s had her fill.”
she stepped into your personal space, her body almost flushing against yours, trapping you between her and the chair. she leaned in, her nose brushing against yours, the scent of her perfume and a hint of vape swirling around you. “and trust me.” she whispered, her lips hovering just millimeters from yours, her breath hitching slightly. “i have a very, very big appetite.”
yves’s smirk grew even more wicked as you stood there in silence, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. she didn’t seem bothered by your lack of words; in fact, she seemed to enjoy the anticipation, the way you were just standing there, letting her read you.
yves didn’t waste any time. she tossed her jacket onto the floor and stepped toward you, her dark eyes scanning your face with an intense, hungry curiosity.
“cat got your tongue?” she teased, her voice low and husky. she reached out, her fingers grazing your jawline as she tilted your head up slightly so you had to look at her. “or are you just waiting for me to make the first move?”
she stepped even closer, her body heat radiating against you, her presence filling the room. her gaze dropped to your lips again, and this time she didn't pull away. her hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your soft hair as she leaned in, her lips a mere breath away from yours.
“i’m not very good at waiting.” she whispered, her voice a seductive, dangerous promise. “so don’t tell me you’re playing hard to get... because i’m about to make sure you’re not.”
your cheeks flushed red as you listened to all the dirty words and unfiltered statements she was throwing at you nonstop. of course it was having a great effect on you, but would you dare to respond in the same way? if it were someone else, it would be easy to play along. but she was being so direct about it that it made you turn into mush in her arms.
“are you sure about this? we have work ahead of us and—”
yves paused, her lips still hovering just an inch from yours. she let out a soft, breathy chuckle, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like she was looking straight into your soul. she didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned in even closer, her chest brushing against yours as she made sure there was no space left between you.
“are you fucking kidding me?” she whispered, her voice a low, velvety growl. her hand at the back of your neck tightened just slightly, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear. “i’ve been thinking about this since the moment i saw you in the hallway. i don’t do anything unless i’m sure.”
she tilted her head, her gaze dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your light green eyes, her expression softening into something more predatory yet undeniably heated.
“i’m sure about you, (y/n). i’m sure about how much i want to taste you, and how much i want to see those pretty eyes go hazy while you’re under me.” she let out a small, confident smirk, the kind that promised she was in total control. “the only question left is... are you sure you can handle me?”
“try me.”
yves’s eyes darkened, the playful smirk morphing into something much more primal. the “try me” was exactly the kind of challenge she lived for. she loved a girl with a backbone, especially one who was willing to walk right into the lion’s den.
“challenge accepted.” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper but heavy with intent.
without another word, she closed the final gap between you. her lips crashed against yours, not with a gentle question, but with a hungry, demanding answer. it was a kiss that tasted of mint and pure, unadulterated desire. she pressed you back against the closed dorm door, her body pinning yours firmly in place, making sure you could feel every inch of her heat.
her tongue teased the seam of your lips, demanding entry, while her hands became restless one staying tangled in your soft hair to tilt your head back, while the other slid down from your waist to pull your hips flush against hers. she was making it very clear that she wasn’t just playing around anymore; she was claiming what she had hunted.
she pulled back just a fraction, her lips swollen and her breathing heavy, her forehead resting against yours as she stared into your lusful eyes.
“you’re so much more dangerous than you look, aren’t you?” she murmured, a breathless, wicked grin tugging at her mouth. “god, i love it.”
she didn’t give you a chance to respond with words. Instead, she slid her hands down from your hair, her palms grazing your sides before she gripped your waist firmly, lifting you slightly so you had to wrap your legs around her hips to stay balanced. she carried you toward the couch, her kisses never breaking, moving from your lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping at you just hard enough to make you gasp.
when she finally let you slide down onto the couch, she hovered over you, her dark hair falling like a curtain around both of your faces, creating a private world of heat and heavy breathing. she looked down at you, her eyes smoldering with a mix of lust and triumph.
“i think we’re done talking now.” she whispered, her hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, her gaze locked onto yours as she began to pull it up, her smirk turning into a look of pure, uninhibited hunger. “let’s see just how much of a challenge you really are.”
yves didn’t need words from you. your silence, your heavy breathing, and the way you looked up at her from the pillows told her everything she needed to know. you were ready, and she was more than happy to take the lead.
as she pulled your shirt up and over your head, her eyes traveled over your skin with a slow, appreciative reverence. she wasn’t just looking; she was memorizing you. when her hands finally made direct contact with your bare skin, her touch was a contrast of textures her palms were slightly calloused, a hint of her rebellious lifestyle, but her movements were incredibly deliberate and heated.
she leaned down, her lips trailing a path of fire from your collarbone down toward the swell of your chest. she let out a low, satisfied hum against your skin, her breath hot and damp. every time she nipped at you or licked a path across your skin, she felt you react, and it only fueled her fire.
“god, you’re perfect.” she groaned against your skin, her voice muffled but vibrating through your entire body. she shifted her weight, her thigh sliding between yours to create a delicious friction that made your breath hitch.
she pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, her dark hair messy and her lips flushed from your kiss. yhere was no more teasing, no more “bad girl” bravado just a raw, intense hunger. she reached down, her hand sliding down your stomach, her touch light but teasing, hovering just at the edge of where you wanted her most.
“you can tell me if you want me to stop.” she whispered, her eyes burning into yours, a challenge and a plea all at once, though her smirk suggested she knew you wouldn’t want her to stop for anything. “but if you don’t... i’m going to make sure you forget your own name by the time we’re done.”
with a wicked glint in her eyes, she lowered herself back down, her body pressing fully against yours, her hands roaming your curves with an ownership that made it clear: the hunt was over, and the feast had officially begun.
she moved with a sudden, desperate grace, her hands sliding lower to the waistband of your bottoms. she paused for a heartbeat, her dark eyes searching yours one last time to ensure you were still with her, before she began to pull them down your hips. her touch was firm and possessive, leaving no doubt about her intentions. as the last of your clothes were discarded, she leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, bruising kiss, her hands roaming your body as if she were trying to map every inch of you with her fingertips.
the air in the room felt heavy, charged with the electricity of her presence and the sheer intensity of her desire. she was a force of nature, and as she moved to fully claim you, it was clear that you weren't just her prey you were her obsession.
the room was filled with the sound of heavy, synchronized breathing and the soft, wet sounds of yves’s uninhibited passion. she was a natural, moving with a predatory rhythm that was both intense and incredibly intuitive to your body’s reactions.
yves had you pinned beneath her, her body a warm, heavy weight that felt grounding and intoxicating all at once. one of her hands was buried deep between your thighs, her fingers working with a practiced, rhythmic motion that sent waves of electricity straight to your core. she wasn’t being gentle; she was being thorough, her movements firm and purposeful, driving you toward the edge with every stroke. she knew exactly how to find that perfect tension, her thumb occasionally circling to heighten the sensation until you were arching your back against the mattress.
at the same time, her head was bowed low, her dark hair brushing against your skin as she focused her attention on your breast. she took you into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your nipple before she began to suckle deeply. the sensation was overwhelming the heat of her mouth, the suction, and the way she used her teeth to graze you just enough to make you gasp. It was a delicious, agonizing pull that made your toes curl and your vision blur.
“god... you taste so good.” yves groaned against your skin, her voice vibrating through your chest. she lifted her head for a split second, her lips glistening and her eyes dark with a primal sort of triumph as she watched your face contort with pleasure.
she didn’t slow down; if anything, she picked up the pace. her fingers moved faster, more insistent, while her mouth returned to you, her suction becoming more intense. she was relentless, a beautiful, chaotic storm of sensation designed to break you down. she wanted to hear every moan, feel every shudder, and own every single reaction your body had to her touch.
she leaned up slightly, her face inches from yours, her breath hitching as she felt you tighten around her fingers. “that’s it, (y/n)... give it all to me.” she whispered, a dark, hungry command. “show me exactly how much you want this.”
she felt the sudden, frantic tension in your muscles, the way your thighs trembled and your hips began to buck rhythmically against her hand. yves’s eyes widened, a flash of pure, unadulterated heat crossing her features as she realized you were right on the precipice.
“that’s it... right there.” she encouraged, her voice a low, gravelly purr. she didn’t pull back; instead, she drove her fingers deeper, increasing the speed and pressure of her movements to match the frantic pace of your heart. she used her thumb to apply a steady, insistent pressure, driving you toward the peak with a relentless, calculated intensity.
as you finally broke, your body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful shudder, yves didn’t let up for a single second. she kept her fingers moving, riding out every wave of your climax, her mouth returning to your skin to catch your gasps and moans. she watched you with a predatory satisfaction, her gaze heavy and dark, drinking in the sight of you completely undone by her touch.
when the tremors finally began to subside, leaving you breathless and limp against the pillows, yves collapsed slightly onto you, her chest heaving in unison with yours. she nuzzled into the crook of your neck, her lips grazing your skin as she let out a long, satisfied exhale.
“told you.” she whispered, her voice thick with a mix of exhaustion and triumph, a smug, sleepy smirk playing on her lips as she pressed a final, lingering kiss to your shoulder. “you’re a hell of a challenge, (y/n). and i think i’m just getting started.”
yves felt the shift in your energy, the way your hands moved from her hair to guide her downwards. a low, appreciative hum vibrated in her throat as she understood the unspoken command. she loved it when you took charge, even if it was just to demand more of her undivided attention.
she slid down your body, her eyes never leaving yours until the very last second, a wicked, knowing glint in her gaze. when she reached the space between your thighs, she didn’t hesitate. she parted your legs wide with her hands, her touch possessive and firm, spreading you open so she could see exactly what she was working with.
“my turn to worship you then?” she murmured, her voice a sultry, dark promise before she leaned in.
the first touch of her tongue was slow and deliberate, a long, wet stroke from bottom to top that made you gasp and arch your hips. yves was a master of sensation; she knew exactly how to play with you. she used the tip of her tongue to tease your clitoris with light, fluttering motions, driving you crazy with anticipation, before switching to deep, swirling licks that were much more intense and demanding.
she was relentless. her hands moved to grip your hips, anchoring you to the bed so she could press her face more firmly against you. the sound of her wet, rhythmic lapping filled the quiet dorm room, a primal soundtrack to the heat building between you. she would alternate between soft, teasing licks and hard, suctioning pulls that made your breath hitch and your fingers tangle desperately in her short black hair.
yves was watching you the whole time, her eyes peeking up through her lashes to catch every flicker of pleasure on your face. she wanted to see the exact moment your eyes rolled back, the exact moment your control snapped. every time you let out a sharp moan or a choked sob of pleasure, she responded by increasing the pressure, her tongue working with a feverish, hungry intensity.
“that’s it, (y/n)... just like that.” she mumbled against your skin, her voice muffled but heavy with lust. she could feel the heat radiating from you, the way your muscles were tensing in preparation for another peak.
she sensed the change in your rhythm the way your hips began to stutter and your breathing became shallow and frantic. she knew you were close. instead of slowing down, she went for the kill. she increased the speed of her tongue, her suction becoming more intense and focused, her fingers sliding inside you to mimic the rhythm of her mouth.
as you hit your peak again, your body trembling violently under her touch, yves didn’t pull away. she stayed right there, drinking in your cries, her tongue continuing its work to milk every last drop of pleasure from your climax. she was a predator who had found her favorite way to feast, and she was clearly enjoying every single second of it.
she could feel the tremors running through your thighs, the way your muscles were pulsing rhythmically against her face. yves leaned into it, her tongue working with a feverish, unrelenting precision. she used her fingers to stretch you open just a little wider, allowing her to get even deeper, her tongue swirling and flicking against your most sensitive spot with a hunger that was almost desperate. she wanted to taste every drop of your release, to feel the exact moment your body gave up its fight and surrendered to the pleasure.
as you reached the peak, a loud, uninhibited cry escaping your lips, yves didn’t pull back. she held you there, her tongue maintaining a steady, intense pressure that drove you through the waves of your climax, making sure you felt every single sensation until you were completely spent. she stayed with you, her breath hot against your skin, until the last of the frantic pulsing subsided into soft, heavy shudders.
finally, she pulled back, her face flushed and her lips glistening. she crawled up your body, her eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction, and settled herself over you once more. she leaned down, pressing a slow, deep, and incredibly sweet kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the primal intensity of moments before.
“god, baby.” she whispered against your mouth, her voice a raspy, breathless wreck. “you are absolutely incredible. i think you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me in this boring industry.”
she let out a soft, triumphant laugh, her hand sliding down to rest possessively over your heart, feeling it thudding wildly against your ribs. she looked down at you, her expression a mix of raw lust and a rare, genuine warmth. “now... since you’ve been such a good little prey... how about we see if you can handle me taking you all the way?”
“what do you mean?”
yves’s eyes glinted with a wicked, knowing light as she stood up from the bed for a moment. there was a brief, intense silence, broken only by the sound of her moving around the small room. when she turned back to face you, she was wearing a sleek, black leather strap on, the harness hugging her curves and emphasizing her dominant, “bad girl” energy. she looked incredibly hot, her skin still flushed from your previous encounter, her hair a messy, beautiful disaster.
she didn’t say a word at first. she just walked back to the bed with a slow, predatory strut, the leather creaking slightly with every step. the look in her eyes was no longer just hungry; it was commanding. she was reclaiming her role as the predator, and she was making sure you knew exactly what was coming next.
“you’ve been such a good girl, (y/n).” she purred, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that made your stomach flip. she crawled onto the mattress, looming over you, the weight of the harness pressing slightly against your thighs as she settled between them. “but now... it’s time to see if you can really handle the real thing.”
she reached down, her hands sliding under your hips to lift you slightly, positioning you perfectly for her. her gaze was intense, tracing the lines of your body, her dark eyes burning with a mix of lust and a desire to completely possess you.
“don’t look so nervous.” she teased, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned down to nip at your earlobe, her breath hot and teasing. “i’ll be gentle... for the first few minutes, at least. but once you start begging for it, all bets are off.”
she guided you, her movements confident and practiced, as she began to slowly, agonizingly tease the entrance of your heat with the tip of the silicone. she wanted to build the tension until you were practically vibrating with need, until you were the one reaching for her, pulling her closer, desperate to bridge the gap.
“tell me, sweetheart.” she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours as she pushed just a little bit deeper, a slow, steady pressure that made your breath catch. “are you ready to let me completely take over?”
“yes."
yves’s smirk turned into a look of pure, unadulterated hunger. that single, breathless “yes” was all the permission she needed to stop teasing and start claiming.
“good girl.” she growled, the words vibrating deep in her chest. she didn’t hesitate. with a firm, confident thrust, she drove herself into you, filling you completely. the sensation was intense a heavy, stretching fullness that made your eyes fly wide and your breath hitch in a sharp, broken gasp. she didn’t stop there; she buried herself deep, pinning you to the mattress with the sheer force of her desire.
she stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust to the sudden, overwhelming presence of her inside you. her eyes never left yours, watching the way your pupils dilated and the way your lips parted. she wanted to witness every second of your surrender.
“god, you’re so tight... so perfect.” she groaned, her voice a wrecked, gravelly whisper. she began to move, her hips working in a slow, grinding rhythm that was designed to maximize every point of contact. she wasn’t just thrusting; she was twisting, sliding, and pressing against you with a calculated precision that made your entire body hum with electricity.
as the rhythm picked up, the “cool girl” persona fully took over. she became a force of nature relentless, powerful, and completely focused on your pleasure. she leaned down, her sweat slicked skin sliding against yours, and captured your mouth in a deep, messy kiss that tasted of salt and passion. her hands were everywhere gripping your waist, tangling in your soft hair, and occasionally reaching down to find your clitoris, adding a frantic, stinging pleasure to the heavy, rhythmic pounding of her hips.
“look at me, (y/n).” she commanded, her voice thick with lust as she increased the pace. she wanted you to see her, to see the predator who had finally caught her prize. she wanted you to see the absolute obsession in her dark eyes as she drove you harder and harder.
the friction was becoming unbearable in the best possible way. every thrust felt like it was hitting a nerve, sending jolts of pure fire through your nerves. you could feel yourself sliding toward the edge again, the tension building in your core until it felt like you might shatter.
“that’s it... take it all.”yves urged, her breathing coming in short, jagged bursts. she was losing her own composure now, her movements becoming more desperate, more primal. she was chasing the same peak you were, her hips slamming against yours with a rhythmic, heavy thud that echoed in the small room. “show me... show me how much you love being mine!”
the pace became frantic, a blur of heat and friction. yves was no longer holding back, her movements becoming heavy and deep, driven by a desperate need to reach her own breaking point. she was slamming into you with a primal intensity, her hips working in a punishing, perfect rhythm that left you breathless and sobbing with pleasure. every time she bottomed out, she would let out a low, guttural growl, her teeth grazing your shoulder as she surrendered herself to the sensation of being inside you.
you could feel the climax building, a tidal wave of sensation that was far more powerful than anything before. your vision was swimming, your entire world narrowing down to the feeling of her body against yours and the incredible, stretching fullness of her. your legs wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her even deeper, as if you could merge your very souls through the friction.
“i know you've close... god, (y/n), you’re killing me.” she gasped, her eyes blown wide, her composure finally shattering. her movements became shorter, faster, more desperate as she felt your internal muscles begin to spasm around her.
then, it happened. you broke, a violent, soul shaking orgasm that sent you arching off the bed, your voice catching in a high, broken cry. the sensation of your release seemed to trigger her as well; with a final, powerful thrust that buried her as deep as she could possibly go, yves let out a loud, triumphant groan, her whole body tensing as she rode out her own intense, crashing climax. she collapsed against you, her heart hammering against your chest like a trapped bird, her forehead resting in the crook of your neck as you both drifted in the afterglow of total, beautiful destruction.
the silence in the dorm room was heavy, filled only with the sound of two people trying to find their breath again. the air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the lingering electricity of the climax that had just leveled you both. yves didn’t move for a long time, her body draped heavily over yours, her skin slick and hot against your own. she felt like a warm, living weight, grounding you back to reality after the intense, blurry haze of pleasure.
slowly, she began to shift, her movements languid and unhurried. she propped herself up on her elbows, her hair a wild, dark curtain around her face, looking down at you with an expression that was uncharacteristically soft. the bad girl mask had slipped, replaced by a look of pure, dazed adoration. her dark eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were hooded and hazy with a deep, lingering satisfaction.
she reached out, her fingers trembling just a little as she brushed a stray lock of messy hair away from your damp forehead. her touch was incredibly tender, a stark contrast to the primal intensity of the last few minutes. she leaned down, not for a demanding kiss this time, but to press a series of soft, lingering kisses all over your face, your temples, your cheeks, the tip of your nose.
“wow.” she whispered, her voice a mere thread of sound, raspy and exhausted. she let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking her head as if she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.* “you... you really are something else, (y/n). i think you actually broke me a little bit.”
she slid down the bed until she was lying beside you, pulling the duvet up to cover your shared nakedness. she pulled you into her side, tucking your head under her chin and wrapping her arms tightly around you, as if she were afraid you might vanish if she let go. she felt possessive, but it was a protective kind of possession now.
“don’t think this means you're getting away that easily.” she murmured into your hair, her lips grazing your scalp. even in her exhausted state, that signature smirk made a reappearance, though it was much more affectionate than usual. “a predator doesn’t just catch her prey and walk away. she keeps her prize close.”
she squeezed you a little tighter, her thumb tracing lazy, soothing circles on your arm. the intensity of the encounter had shifted the energy between you; the flirtation was gone, replaced by a heavy, undeniable connection that felt much more permanent than a simple schoolyard conquest.
“stay right here.” she commanded softly, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to drift toward sleep, her voice lulling and warm. “just... stay right here with me.”
you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. you just lay there, your body feeling heavy and beautifully spent, your heart slowly decelerating from the frantic pace it had been running at. your eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, watching the shadows dance in the dim light of the dorm room, while your skin still hummed with the ghost of her touch.
yves seemed to find your silence perfect. she didn't push for more words, didn’t demand more attention. she simply tightened her hold on you, her breathing becoming deep and rhythmic as she finally succumbed to the exhaustion. the bad girl was gone, replaced by a girl who was simply content to be held by the person who had just completely undone her.
as the minutes ticked by, the room grew quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of the school hallways and the steady, peaceful breathing of the two of you. yves’s hand, which had been tracing idle patterns on your arm, eventually stilled, resting heavily and possessively over your hip.
in the quiet, the weight of what had happened settled over you. this wasn’t just another one of yves’s conquests. there was a lingering heat in the air, a sense of something more than just physical release. you could feel the way she held you not like a trophy she was finished with, but like something precious she was guarding.
eventually, the warmth of her body and the safety of her embrace began to pull you toward sleep as well. the last thing you felt before drifting off was the soft, unconscious pressure of her lips against the top of your head and the unmistakable feeling that, for the first time in your life, you hadn’t just been caught... you had been truly seen.
⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝓉o celebrate PRIDE, how about a little colorful event in june ?
ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝒾 can write you a little short story, as long as it's QUEER.
ᯓᡣ𐭩 PSSST... 𝓎ou can go as crazy as you want! there's no limit at how many details and/or flags you send me, and i'm more than happy to learn more!
ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝓽his event is to not only show support to the amazing community i'm part of, but also educate people who aren't aware of many identities out there! don't be afraid to send in less known flags or micro labels, this is a safe space.
ᯓᡣ𐭩 RULES : 𝓈end in the idol(s) you wish to have the story with plus the flags you want! it can be both for reader and/or the idol(s) chosen. remember to also say what you want for the story, otherwise i can't write your entry for the event :]
