alicemimi

You knew the price of having Sevika as your girlfriend. Knew all the eyes that lingered on her, knew the popularity she had with the girls. Especially those that she had slept with before you.

They were all nuisances, still trying to get her attention. Trying to squeeze out another night of fun with her. It prickled you, of course it did, especially knowing the history. Every line, pathetic and rehearsed, were always the same when they neared Sevika.

“We had a lot of fun. Let's repeat it.”

“You mentioned [blank], is the offer still open?”

“You were so good at [blank]. I’d love to do it again.”

Each phrase, each described scene and moment made your chest ache. Make your veins burn with sadness and rage. Can’t they see you were right here while they said all this? While their hands lingered on her too much?

People needed to learn respect, but you knew you didn’t have to worry. Sevika always gruffed about their words, replied to make them feel like fools. You saw the way it made them sink into themselves and it made you beam with pride.

However, sometimes, Sevika would have that charming little smirk on her lips. “Yeah? Too bad I’m with someone right now,” and the third party’s eyes would turn to you, would glare at you for tying down someone so skillful.

Their stares made you feel small, and Sevika’s phrasing didn’t help. You had to scream at her that night, make her hear her own words back. It’s when she realized you had misinterpreted, and she had misspoken.

“ ‘s not like that,” She grabs your face in her prosthetic hand, rubbing the claw of her thumb against your chin. “Y’know it isn’t,” is all she would say.

It’s not like Sevika was any good with emotions. She truly didn’t mean to cause that hurt in your eyes but she couldn’t escape it sometimes. But it did make you wonder, was it something she missed?

That only made your blood boil. Sevika was yours, and she was stuck with that fact for whatever time she chose to keep you by her side. It made that pitting anger boil over every time.

Like right now.

Especially right now.

A soft, drunken girl had slid into Sevika’s lap as you made your way over, two drinks in hand. Your fingers tighten around the glasses, your jaw setting and your molars scraping and nearly squeaking together at the force as your stride quickens.

You had half a mind to dump the drink on the girl’s head, to smash the glass against her skull until she was fishing the shards from her hair and prying them from her bloody scalp. Instead, you walked over and nudged her leg, almost a kick really, and she grunted in response.

She couldn’t even glare at you properly because of how stupidly wasted she was. You narrow your eyes at her while simultaneously setting a glass down. You reach over to fist the back of her hair, to tug her head back until she’s gasping and her eyes are widening.

“Move,” You grit, teeth bared. “Or I’ll make sure to rip your scalp clean off your fucking head.”

The girl whimpers when you let go of her hair harshly, half-shoving her off. She scrambles to stand and uses Sevika’s chest as aid to shove herself away. She stumbles and almost crashes onto the ground in her hurry.

You turn your glare to Sevika who had a grimace on her face at the sight of the girl you had shoved away. It makes your blood boil. "What's that look for?” Your tone is harsher than what you intended.

“Easy,” Sevika warns, eyes locked with yours as you slide onto her lap. She keeps your gaze as your thighs brace around her lap, your free hand cupping the side of her neck while the other steady the drink you still held. Her hands grip your waist as you sit on her thighs, sliding down to cup the end of your spine and pull you closer. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“She lingered here too much,” You roll your hips, feeling the grip on your back tighten and Sevika’s jaw doing much the same as you press your hot cunt against her dick through both of your clothes. “Way too long.”

Sevika grunts as you press your chest into her own, your nails lightly digging into the base of her neck where your fingers laid. Another roll of your hips, your eyes never leaving hers as you took a sip of the whiskey sour in your glass, swallowing the contents. You take another sip but don’t swallow the drink this time, instead, you lean forward to slot your mouth against her own.

She groans and parts your lips with her tongue, swallowing the contents of your drink and your kiss. Her hands grope your ass, fingertips pushing beneath the material of your shorts to grab your ass, even if only a little. A drip of the drink slides down the side of her mouth, down her chin and you pull back from the kiss to catch it with your tongue. To trail your tongue up her throat, feel her groan vibrate against your lips as you make your way to her lips.

“Want another sip?” You mumble against her mouth, already feeling the strain of her pants beneath you.

“Don’t get any ideas,” She smirks as she moves her hand up to catch the wrist of the hand that held the glass. She takes a long drink of it and your other hand moves from her neck to thumb the other drip of the drink that slides down her throat as she drains the glass.

You lick your thumb, feeling her hand wrap around your throat and pull you down to kiss you. She shared another swallow of the drink, fingers tightening around your neck to make your lips part for her.

“C’mon,” she pats your thigh, biting your lower lip and feeling how it made your cunt throb where it still laid pressed against her bulge. “ ‘fore I fuck right here.”

“Maybe you should,” You purr, faking innocence as your hand cups her chest and she hisses. They were always so sensitive due to the estrogen, and you liked toying with them to get her riled up with the touch alone. It pissed her off how good your hands felt caressing and pinching, your mouth sucking and licking her nipples. The thought alone had her throbbing, dick begging to be released. “Since bitches don’t seem to get you’re mine, mommy.”

Sevika growls, fingers digging painfully into your thighs, metal and flesh. You knew there would be bruises in the morning and you couldn’t wait to see them blossom. The nickname was a slip when she was fucking you extra roughly one night, and hearing it had only made her rougher.

Now the title alone could get her hard and her breathing to quicken.

You wondered what other things got her this way, before you, and it made your blood boil. You knew it wasn’t healthy to dwell on her past, but when it was flaunted so openly in your present — it was a hard thing to not think about. So you dig your blunt nails into her chest through her top and hear the lovely, breathless moan she elicited. She grips your thighs, bucking into your cunt while her eyes narrow up at you.

“Don’t play, baby.” Her voice is hoarse, trying to hold herself somewhat in check.

“You were playin’, too,” You keep one hand on her chest, the other – still occupied with the now-empty glass – wrapping around her neck, pressing the side of your wrist to the back of her neck. “Havin’ someone sittin’ here,” Your voice is steady and the tone is like a melody – sickly sweet and low – as you lean in closer, brushing your lips against her own.

“Kid was drunk, was gonna have her get off me anyways,” Sevika smirks, licking her lips at the way your eyes narrow at her. “What? Did mommy not shove her off quick enough? Is baby pissed off now?”

“What the fuck do you think?” You roll your eyes and jolt at feeling her metal fingers shoot up to cup your chin, pushing the tips of her talons into your cheek.

You hiss and try to pull back but Sevika grips your face tighter. “Watch the attitude, princess, or mommy will bend you over her knee and spank that pretty ass till you bruise.”

‘You promise?” You smirk at the way she clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Get up,” She drops her hand from your face and pats your thigh. “Let’s go.”

The walk back to your shared apartment with Sevika was quiet but tense, both of you on edge and aching to get your hands on each other. Not like Sevika had waited much to do so anyways, she had her hand shoved into the back pocket of your shorts, fingers gripping your ass through the material all the way here.

So you weren’t surprised when once inside your place, once the door had been locked, Sevika caged your body against the door. Had gripped your hips and pressed them back into the door to dip her head enough and kiss you hungrily.

You kiss back, craning your neck, gripping her biceps. Your short nails dig into the skin and metal of her forearms. You always made sure to apply more pressure to her right forearm, to leave soft crescent moons of your nails behind on her skin. She growled into your mouth, parting your lips with her tongue and being unsurprised by your quick submission.

The way you whine and allow her access into your mouth, how you can taste the alcohol from the drink you shared. You could even feel her growing bulge against your lower belly, hard and hot against the layers of clothes that were still in the way. Her mouth was hungry for yours and you struggled to keep the pace of her harsh lips.

“Can’t even keep up with a kiss? Pathetic little whore,” She chuckles, grinding against your hip and groaning into your lips. “Where’d all that fire go, huh?”

You smirk against her mouth, eyes soft and feigning a practiced innocence that has had her fooled this far. You knew how to bat your eyelashes up at her, how to pout your lower lip and whine for her, like Sevika was in control.

Which she always was, you loved how and when she took control. But not tonight.

Tonight would be different. Tonight she deserved to see your little truth.

It wasn’t a lie, no, not a lie. Just a hidden truth. She didn’t need to know about your murderous intentions toward that girl that lingered on her lap. How the thought of the random bitch’s blood made a sinister smile gleam on your lips earlier, ones that were now pouting at her like your head had never conjured a vile thought before in its existence.

She was yours, permanently and irreversibly. You had made sure of it with everything you did, with every look and every touch. By the way your body had all but been molded to fit her and her needs. You are utterly perfect for her — even if she would never admit to you or herself how true that was.

“Fire’s still here,” You breathe, kissing her jaw and sliding your hand up her right arm to cup the back of her neck. You pull her closer, brushing your lips against the spot of her throat and nipping it, feeling her groan.

She ruts into you, hands on your hips and pushing you back slightly, harder against the door behind you. “On your knees,” the command is solid and steady and you don’t question her.

However, you do pout against her throat and give it a final kiss before pulling back, before sinking on your knees in front of her. Your feet are pressed back into the door and you sit back on your thighs, back straight as your fingers find the button of her jeans to pop open.

You crane your neck upward, humming as she pushes her fingers through your hair and scratches your scalp with her nails, knotting her fingers in place. It was automatic as soon as she did that, your hands undoing her zipper, pushing her jeans open and mouthing her cock through her boxers.

She hisses as the cotton of the fabric rubs against her sensitive shaft, tightening her fingers in your hair more. She tugs it sharply and you yelp, loving the sting in your scalp from the tug and apologizing for teasing by doing it again. This time, dragging your tongue against where her head laid press, where the fabric was damp with her ample pre-cum.

“Damn brat,” She grunts, giving your hair another sharp tug and making you giggle into the fabric. “Don’t push your luck,” She grits, jaw visibly ticking in annoyance.

“Sorry,” You mumble against her bulge, fingers hooking into her boxers and pulling them down swiftly.

Your mouth waters at the sight of her dick, twitching and head heavy. There’s a pearl of pre-cum already forming on her slit and you drag your tongue against it to catch it. She moans low, stomach tightening at how you bat your eyelashes up at her while you suck the head of her dick into your mouth.

“That’s it, always puttin’ on a good show f’me,” Her voice sounds tight, like she’s already losing the battle of control.

You drag your tongue below the curve of her head, cradling it in your mouth. She sighs, almost pleased and content with the feeling of your mouth on her dick, slowly stroking her head, tongue swirling her slit. She grins down at you when you press the tip of your tongue against her dribbling head.

“What? Need me to piss in your mouth?” She moans when your eyes widen slightly while stroking her shaft with your tongue next as you take more of her in your mouth. “Liked having that pussy filled last time, right?”

Your eyes soften up at her, wet and innocent as you tighten your thighs together, trying to ease the dull ache that had become sharper. She had come in you weeks ago and later pissed inside of you until your belly bulged from the volume of it all. It had made you utterly stupid. You wanted her to do it again.

She sees this and coos, snapping her hips forward and forcing her dick down your throat in one, swift motion.

You choke in surprise, nails digging into her thighs and jaw slackening completely. Your brows crease together, feeling the budding ache to gag around her as you screw your eyes shut. 

Sevika shakes your head on her dick and grunts, pulling back and allowing you the chance to gasp and cough. Spit connects your lips to her dick and you break the delicate thread when you run your tongue over your bottom lip. “Open your eyes, doll. Let mommy see how much you like her dick.”

You swallow and blink your eyes open, free of the blurring sheen of your tears. Her mechanical hand wraps around her shaft and you stick your tongue out on queue, hearing her coo as she taps the head of her cock on your tongue.

“So obedient,” the one is mocking and so is the faux jut of her lower lip. “Don’t even need verbal queues. Such a good girl,” She pushes the head of her dick into your mouth and you close your lips around her, stroking her with them with steady motions.

The moan she lets out is almost a blissful sigh as she tilts her head back and slowly rocks her hips. You knew it was her way of warning you and you hold your breath in time to have her slam into your mouth again.

You whimper, eyes welling with tears as you gag around her shaft. Your nails dig into her thighs harder, scratching her muscled skin as you barely manage a breath. She moans at your struggle and shoves your head back against the door, clawed fingers scratching the wood of the door as she leans her left forearm against it.

“That’s it, cry for mommy,” Sevika grunts as she shoves her hips flush against your face. Your jaw hangs, nose pressed to her trimmed bush and inhaling her musk and the warmth of her skin. “Lemme see those pretty tears.”

Your pussy throbs as your throat is used, as spit is sliding down your lips and chin. You don’t know if you’re drooling all over yourself or not, but you hoped so. Sevika loved seeing you drooling and stupid from having your throat filled, from her cockhead ramming into the back of your throat with audible, wet noises. It would’ve been better if you were naked though, tits wet and shiny from spit and her pre-cum – it was one of the woman’s favorite sights to see.

“ ‘s too bad I can’t feel that –” She grunts, slamming her hips against your face, feeling your throat tighten and the muffled cough you let be heard. “– pretty pussy clampin’ while you suck on me.”

Your face heats up in embarrassment and the lack of steady breaths you’re missing. Your chest burns and eyes well with tears as she swirls her hips against your mouth, making you gag and dig your nails into her thighs harder.

Sevika grunts at the blossoming of pain as you dig your nails into her, bound to leave little crescents behind in your wake. She smirks and holds you there, holds you still. Your jaw is left hanging, spit sliding down your throat and making you shiver. There’s tears sliding down your cheeks as you cough around her, whimpering as your head is pressed harder against the wood.

There’s pressure building at your temples, making your ears ring and head throb from the lack of oxygen. You claw at her thighs, hearing her hiss and feeling the tensing of her muscles in response to your touch.

Sevika’s forehead is brushing the wood of the door, peering down at you, although unable to see much. She can see your fingers tremble on her thighs, can feel your throat spasming as you try to swallow and breathe while she smothers you against the door.

“Deep breath,” She grunts as she pulls her hips back, letting her dick slip from your lips. You can’t follow her hips, can’t encourage her to continue fucking your throat because her fingers in your hair are holding your head against the door.

You let your tongue dangle helplessly from your mouth, dripping saliva as you whine at the loss, while inhaling deeply and greedily to fill out your lungs. You tilt your chin up, eyes wet and lashes damp from the tears. 

Sevika allows you to tilt your head, but keeps her fingers knotted in your hair. “Poor thing,” she chastises, rubbing her throbbing cock head against your tongue and groaning at the feeling. “Not gettin’ my load like this.”

You make a confused, dejected sound when she lets your hair go and takes a step back. “Vika?”

“C’mon, on your feet,” She clicks her tongue and smirks down at you, fingers wrapping around your jaw to squeeze. “I’m not wasting my load down your throat.”

Your body burns at the promise of her voice and you slowly rise to your feet, eyes still locked with her own. Your nose crinkles in response to the strain of your knees, at the red circles and the heaviness of your legs from sitting down on them.

“Good girl, listenin’ so well,” Sevika slides her hands down your sides, pulling you close and making you groan at feeling the brush of her dick against your covered core.

“Hm, thank you, mommy,” You purr, leaning forward to brush your lips against her own. Your arms wrap around her neck, kissing her hard and feeling her fingers dig harder into your sides.

You squeal into her mouth as she lifts you and you wrap your legs around her waist as her hands squeeze your thighs. There’s a shiver running down your spine as her clawed-fingers dig and drag down your thigh. You lick into her mouth, fingers knotted in her hair as she blindly makes her way into your shared bedroom.

“Wanna ride you,” You whisper against her mouth, tone soft and innocent. You needed her on her back for what you needed to do next and knew she usually laid you down to be beneath her.

She groans and nips your bottom lip. “Yeah? Need my dick to kiss your cervix, baby?”

The throb of your cunt is unmistakable and you nod eagerly and hurriedly. “Yes, please, mommy. Wanna ride you.”

“Fuck,” She sits on the bed, leaning up to kiss you as she moves back onto the pillows, grunting into your mouth as she feels the brush of your jeans against her shaft.

You hum into her mouth, lifting your hips enough not to torture her dick as your hands settle on the bed. Your mouth moves against hers, hungry and needy but with a hypnotizing slowness that has Sevika almost growling into your lips.

She was yours, and you’d remind her of that if she needed you to do so.

You tease your fingertips down her shoulders and arms, feeling her arms loosen. You don’t make any sudden moves, nothing she would be able to register until it was too late. Your movement is calculated and predatory as your fingers slide down her arms and you meet her fingers to knit into.

Sevika knows you like to touch her with softness and reverence at times, so she doesn't fight when you press the back of her hands into the mattress, fingers still locked. She’s huffing against your mouth as you tease her dick with your covered ass, enough to have her shivering at the feeling.

“Mommy,” Your voice is a whine, a perfected pout on your bottom lip. Your next movement is quick, already knowing where the cuff had been left — a permanent and easily accessible tool. 

You take her left hand and slide it, still locked with yours, closer to the pillows, towards the headboard. The next moment, you are pulling your other hand free and your mouth from hers as you secure the leather around her metal wrist and tighten it all in seconds flat.

“Wh–” she breathes and tugs her wrist. It takes her a second but that’s all the time you need. You’re sliding off of her to secure her other hand to the headboard with an almost practiced and quiet quickness.

“Perfect,” You giggle as she tugs both her wrists and glares at you.

“Take these off now,” She grits, shifting her legs, tugging on her wrists harder and feeling a creak.

“No,” Your voice is suddenly serious as you slowly undo your shorts. You don’t look away from her as you strip, as you pull off the material after your shoes and socks, then your shirt.

“This ain’t funny –”

“You see me laughing?” Your tone is cold as you undo your bra, dropping it, and not missing how Sevika’s eyes greedily drink you in. “I’m glad I got your attention now,” you push down your panties and step out of them, feeling the wet slide of your lips and throbbing clit.

“My attention?” Sevika growls as you reach into the nightstand for the knife that you two use. The bladed one, for the other, was dull and not meant to cut anything. She eyes the knife and looks at you while you climb on the bed and settle on her hips.

“Your attention,” You echo, the tip of the knife twisting into your fingertip while you twirl it. There isn’t any pain but there is a delicious sting that makes you smirk down at her. “Since you seemed to be…occupied earlier.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” She growls, bucking her hips beneath you and glaring up at you. “This gotta do with that drunken bitch earlier?”

“So you did notice her sitting on my seat?” You challenge her glare with one of your own, turning the knife in your hand to have it brushing her cropped shirt.

She laughs down at the knife and looks back up at you, a smirk on her lips. “What? Gonna carve me like I did you?”

“No,” You scoff but sit back to slide the knife beneath her shirt, to cut the top open and see the softness of her breasts settle fully against her chest. “Though I should, y’know,” you trail the tip of the knife down her toned abdomen and see the rippling of the warm muscle as it meets the cold metal of the blade.

“Should you?” She taunts and hisses when you shift enough to grind your pussy against her hard shaft. 

You almost sigh at the feeling of her but smirk and lick your lips. You pull the knife away from her body and twist it in your hand, fingers flipping the blade toward you so you could dig the tip of it into your hip. Right where her name had been carved and scarred over on your skin.

“I should,” Your voice is serious as your skin buzzes with the force of the tip of the knife being pushed against it. “You’re as much mine as I am yours,” You tilt your head and blink slowly.

“The kid was drunk,” She chuckles and eyes the knife in your hand. She vividly remembers you begging her to carve into your body. The little lamb placing itself into the jaws of the wolf — complacent and submissive, utterly devoted to being destroyed.

“You should’ve pushed her off,” You say simply, dropping the knife beside you on the bed and leaning forward to lick the curve of her breast. She grunts and arches her chest into your mouth for more, feeling the hotness of your tongue tease her nipple and make her dick twitch beneath you. “Mine,” you mumble and suck her nipple into your mouth, rocking your hips to tease your wet cunt against her neglected shaft.

“Fuck,” She grunts as you mouth at the sensitive skin of her breasts. They had grown in so nicely with her hormone treatment and were just deliciously sensitive all the time — it was impossible not to want to make her whine from this alone.

You roll your tongue around the bud of her nipple, grounding your hips down onto her cock when she tries to grind up more into you. She groans and hisses a second time when she feels your fingers pinch and twist her nipple with drawn-out movements.

“You gon’...keep it up?” Sevika breathes, licking her lips as she watches you pull back slowly.

“Why? Want somethin’ else?” You coo, humming as you circle your hips on her shaft, feeling her muscles tense as your hands dance across her abdomen.

“Nice try,” Sevika laughs, feeling the throb of her dick beneath the wetness of your pussy, spreading your own slick across her shaft. “ ‘m not beggin’.”

“It’s okay, mommy,” You purr, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You like when I beg anyways, right?” Sevika narrows her eyes at you, watching the furrow of your brows around your eyes. “What, huh? I can’t push you inside of me?” Your faux smile drops, lips curling in a sneer. “Do you wish it would’ve been her instead?”

Your nails dig into her skin and feel how the muscle twitches beneath you. “What, mommy? Get tired of your girl already?” You bare your teeth, back arching, pressing your clit flush against her shaft and shivering. “After breakin’ me in?”

Sevika can feel the twitching of your clit against her and she tightens her jaw and groans. She could easily break these but having you do all the work? Feeling how you’re so deranged about her is making the arousal budding in her lower stomach all the worse.

“Never said that,” Sevika only offers, simple and curt. You couldn’t expect much from her when it came to divulging her feelings, to expressing herself more openly. However, you weren’t entirely stupid, of course — you knew she was also allowing some degree of this. You, better than anyone, knew her strength and knew she could easily get out of this if she really wanted to.

There was a part of Sevika thoroughly enjoying this, you concluded as your hips circle against her hot shaft. You moan softly, feeling the low throb of your hole around nothing, pulsing eagerly.

“So mean,” You hum. “Can I have you inside of me now, mommy?” You ask, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth, knowing she could answer all she wanted but you would do as you please.

Sevika goes to speak, you could tell it was going to be rude and condescending just by the furrow of her brows and the click of her tongue. You decide that’s the best time to do it.

To reach back, arch your spine and guide her leaking cockhead inside of you. You moan as she slips inside of you, stretching you with ease and hearing her own muffled sound of pleasure. You settle completely on her lap, sighing in pleasure as she settles inside of you fully.

“Fuck,” you curse, leaning your hands back onto her thighs, circling her hips and groaning. “So good, mommy.”

Sevika grits her teeth, exhaling heavily through her nose as she watches the way her dick disappears inside of you. How sinful your hips move as your body rolls on top of her. She bawls her fists at seeing how slick her dick looked when you pulled your hips back enough for her to see.

Your smile is dazed and pleased, finally getting what you wanted. Like an addict getting their fix, but it wasn’t nearly enough yet. No, this was simply the beginning of it all.

“C’mon, know you can take m’dick better ‘n that,” Sevika’s voice rasps, bucking into you and smirking at the gasp you let out. “What? I’m yours, s’that it? Prove it.”

Your cheeks burn and eyes blaze, jaw tightening at the implication. Was there an implication there? Your mind raced before your body could catch up and you shifted forward onto your knees, hands braced on the bed and slamming down onto her dick.

Sevika moans, bucking her hips in surprise and you smirk, lips parted as you pant and continue slamming down onto her cock. The sound of skin on skin is muffled by her pants still up and around her but it would’ve been near thunderous if the skin were exposed.

“You…are,” You grunt, breasts swaying and skin rippling with how hard you were fucking yourself on Sevika’s dick. It made your thighs twitch and your cunt to throb around her. “Fuckin’ mine.”

The woman's head tilts back, a ragged moan bursting from her lips as she bucks into your cunt. It makes you mewl in surprise but slam yourself down onto her lap once more, baring your teeth down at her with a grunt afterwards.

Sevika’s smile is still cocky though she’s breathless. Your weight on her, the wet heat of your pussy, even your cervix being teased against the tip of her cock. It made her twist her wrists, hear the creak of them — but you’re too blazed in a possessive rage to notice.

“Always fuckin’ soaked f’me,” Sevika moans, that damn self-satisfied quirk of her mouth still adorning her dark lips. Even though you’re on top, hell, maybe especially because you’re on top. “Fuck, atta girl, ride mommy’s dick.”

“Shut up,” You grit, unable to come up with more to say, too focused on the hot slide of her dick inside of you to care to say much else. 

“Can’t take it?” Sevika presses, voice hoarse as she fucks into you again, moaning at the delicious squeak of surprise you let slip. It makes you crack a fraction, makes you want to reach up and undo her cuffs so she can pound you into the mattress already. But it’s not time for that yet, you still had to prove you were dead serious about her being yours. “What, kid? Didn’t train ya hard ‘nough? Thought that pretty pussy was ‘ready shaped f’me.”

“It fucking is,” Your hands settle on her chest, leaning forward enough to press against her. She groans as your weight shifts on her, to properly slam your ass back onto her lap. To have her dick continue the delicious pounding of your cunt. “You are mine,” your fingers dig into her chest, supple flesh and the outline of her ribs below her skin. It makes her hiss but there’s an undeniable twitch of Sevika’s dick inside of you. “Your dick is mine, mommy.”

“Pup has a bite to her,” Sevika grunts and your face flushes dark, hips stuttering in surprise. She smirks, predatory and dark, her eyes a void of black. There’s nothing behind those eyes right now besides pure, unfiltered lust. Her arm glows with the same need in turn.

It’s exactly what you wanted.

“Aw,” She derides, clicking her tongue despite the panting of her chest beneath your fingers. “ ‘lready wordless?” She moans, feeling your cunt tighten around her purposefully and skillfully, making her stomach coil in turn. “Didn’t even…need your collar,” She grunts out, forcing the words from her lips, past the moan that followed only a second later.

“Want it?” You breathe, thighs aching with the strain as you swirl your hips on her lap. She curses and brows knit together as you continue your teasing movements. “You own me,” You remind, nails digging harder into her chest and making her hiss and glare up at you.

There’s another tug to the cuffs around her wrists. Again, you were so unaware of how close she was to breaking them.

“But you’re mine,” You keep saying. A simple statement, all your mind could come up with. The constant prodding and throbbing of Sevika’s dick was maddening. Always made you buckle and bend to her every whim. “Trained me, like ya said,” A satisfied hum as you reach your hand down between your thighs, rubbing circles against your clit. You don’t moan, not yet, you instead bare your teeth and growl. “Only I can fuckin’ satisfy you. This is your —“ a squeeze of her dick with your walls that has her moaning and a burst of vapor to come from her metal shoulder. “ — pussy, right? Made for you, mommy?”

The next thing you know, there’s an audible, loud click before there’s a hand around your throat. You gasp, fingers around her wrist as you’re twisted around and pinned back into the mattress.

You whimper and claw at her arm when she digs her hips inside of you, stirring you with her cock. “Course you are,” She growls, tightening her fingers around your throat just to see the pretty flutter of your eyelashes and feel you tightening around her dick like a vice. “Trained you like the damn mutt you are.”

Your face breaks into a grin and, despite the pressure to your throat, manage to giggle with the little air you can inhale. “Mommy’s,” You remind, it’s innocent and submissive, just like the smile adorning your lips.

Sevika grunts in annoyance, pressing her thumb right behind the curve of your soft jaw. “This what you wanted?” She accentuates the question with a punishing thrust of her hips that has you mewling in appreciation. “There ya go. Wanted mommy to dig in this delicious little pussy, doll?”

“Mine, mommy,” Your breath is short, replying breathlessly and gasping when she loosens her hand on your throat. Allows your lungs the chance to fill up again. “Fuckin’ mine.”

“Yeah, kid, so take it like it is,” Sevika picks up her thrusts, each as punishing as the last. They rattle you, ripple your skin as her cockhead is slamming into your cervix with punishing pressure. 

You sob out, digging your nails into her arm, just noticing the brush of the cuff’s metal clip against your skin. She had only broken the chain connecting each leather cuff, both wrist still adorned with dark red leather. It made you shiver and for your cunt to squeeze her a fraction more.

She hisses, rolling her hips against you for a moment while her other hand pushes your leg up as it chatters to life. You squeak as she folds you, crowds her thighs around your lifted hips and continues to fuck you into the mattress recklessly.

Each press of your body, folded up beneath her, sends bolts of pleasure from your stretching muscles. You can feel each wet slap of her cock inside of you, feel the stirring of your insides. It pulls a broken moan from you.

“Atta girl,” She moans, swirling her hips against you, feeling the twitching of her dick inside of you. She was so close to coming, it had her muscles tightening. The plane of her abdomen flexed and shiny with a smear of your arousal and sweat.

You knew it, too. Felt the way she twitched, how she moved her hips a fraction faster while her brows furrow and lips part in pleasure. She’s almost growling beneath her breath at the sight of her cock sinking into your pussy and coming out drenched.

You’re allowed a sharp inhale when she releases your throat, hands shifting down your body to pin you further against the bed. Your knees pressed into the mattress as your body curves. Sevika’s eyes drink you in, every dip and fold.

A map she already knows. One she can follow blindly if it came to that.

The new angle makes you moan, squeeze her harder and cry out when she shifts both of your ankles into her left hand, her right giving your clit harsh rubs. You moan, spreading yourself for her eyes, even if it wasn’t being asked of you.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl,” She growls, thumb rubbing your clit steadily as her grip on your ankles tighten when she feels you begin to tremble. “ ‘ready close?”

“Fuck you,” You grit, eyes unfocused and dazed as she mercilessly slams into you, feeling your walls fluttering, tightening around her.

“S’okay, cum as much as ya want,” She laughs, licking her lips. “Mommy’s not nearly close.”

You shiver at the promise behind her words, knowing that ever since getting on estrogen it had taken her longer to finish. You could cum two, three or more times before she came once. It was wonderful to tease her for hours, cage her dick with your walls even if you’re crying from sensitivity. It was deliciously painful, making you cum blanks around her.

“I’m not —“ A broken moan makes you cut yourself off, fingers scrambling to grip her mechanical arm. That was buried into the sheets beside your head. Your other hand fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Not what, hm?” Sevika grins, lips parted as she pants above you. She keeps grunting and growling at her jeans, preventing most of her movement, forcing her to be far gentler than she wants. Than you deserve. “Pussy’s flutterin’, baby. Know you’re so fuckin’ close.”

Your face burns. The heat engulfing your ears and throat, making even the very air filling your lungs feel far too hot.

“C’mon,” She growls, swirling her hips against you just to hear you keen and feel you buck. Her knuckles push into the softness of your pubis, thumb rubbing circles against the hard bud of your clit. “Atta, baby, little clit’s so stiff.”

You whimper in embarrassment when her words make you twitch beneath her touch. You claw at the sheets, spine arching to raise your hips for her, to moan as she digs her hips into you.

“Mommy!” You sputter out at the pressing of her knuckles into you. Not a tender spot, but searching for your bladder, to press into the fullness that happens when you’re this wet. To feel you tighten around her and have her grunting at the softness that engulfs her. “Ah — no–!”

“No?” Sevika chuckles, slamming into you so hard, you moan loudly. Brokenly as it’s forced out of you. “Whatcha mean no, doll?”

There’s a shiver running up your spine, making your thighs shake. Still folded, still trapped beneath her as she stops. Purposefully stopping with her slit kissing your cervix, leaving you to feel full and whimper beneath her.

“Ah, don’t stop,” You blur out before you can stop yourself. Hips bucking and fingers scraping so hard against the metal plate of her bicep, it makes your teeth ache in discomfort of the noise. “Please, mommy, don’t stop.”

“Stop, don’t stop,” She chuffs, tone mocking and claws digging into the mattress beneath you. Her stomach flexes at the feeling of you coiled around her, of her own stillness in the silkiness of your walls. “Pick one, kid. Or are ya too dumbed down t’think?”

Despite the pitting need to cum, your flushed face and half-empty mind, you still find it in you to glare at the woman. To shift your calves to squeeze around her neck, hooking your ankles together against her back.

It makes a sinister gleam glisten in Sevika’s dark eyes, a smirk curling back her smoke-stained lips. Her right arm is still trapped between your legs, hand pressing into your pubis, thumb relaxed against your clit. Her claws reach up for the side of your thigh, to dig into, watch your flesh devour the tips of it.

“Aw,” Sevika clicks her tongue at what she feels. “Like that pain, baby? Your clit certainly does.”

“F-Fuck ‘ou,” You mutter out, crying when she picks up her ruthless pace once more. Slamming into you, digging into your cunt so hard, it makes you squeeze her head with your calves.

Sevika loves the pressure around her head, makes her growl as she fucks you. As she sees every thrust make your tits shift, push and pull like water. It makes her mouth salivate to taste you.

“Yeah, yeah, baby,” Her tone is mocking and you love the way it makes your flush dip down to your shoulders, too. Coloring you. “Shut up and take mommy’s dick, mm?”

You cry out as she digs her claws into you harder, thumb rubbing ruthless circles into your clit. It makes your legs tremble around her head, feeling the budding pressure building to heightening peaks. It has you panting, gripping the bedsheets as you arch your back off the bed as best you can in this position.

“That’s it,” Sevika taunts at feeling the warmth that bursts out of you. Soaks her lower belly and trickles down her jeans. She presses your clit harder and you sob, cutting yourself off with a moan as you come. “Gotta fuck ya harder for ya to piss for me?”

You can’t reply, just moan as your walls pulse around her dick. As you try and scramble from her bruising thrusts as she fucks you through your high. As the faintest trickle leaks after and makes you gasp.

“Ah, fuck–!” Another cracked sob as she slams into you fully. Sevika can almost feel the way your cervix is pressing so deliciously against her, so perfectly for her even from inside.

She pulls her hand from your pubis, letting your clit rest and for you to sigh. If she had continued to push and rub you, it wouldn’t have been long until you did piss all over her. But she doesn’t pull out, no, instead she slides her claws down the side of your thigh to see your chest fill with a hissed inhale of breath.

“That’s it,” She purrs as she turns her head, biting into the skin of your calf hard. It has your legs twitching and hips bucking, walls fluttering around her again. Sevika groans in turn to the feeling. “Mommy’s pretty little cocksleeve.”

You whimper before you realize you’re making a sound, nodding mindlessly to her words. “Only yours,” You breathe, allowing her to unhook your legs around her neck. “Mommy’s only cock sleeve,” You lick your lips as she kisses your calf, eyes still on you while she does.

“Don’t need 'nother,” Sevika moans as she slowly pulls out of you, just to rub the length of your drenched cunt with the slick softness of her dick. Still leaking her clear arousal against you. “This pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, princess.”

You gasp as she rubs the head of her dick against your clit. You try to scramble your hips back, away from the sensitivity that has bloomed there. But you couldn't. Her fingers are sinking into the backs of your thighs, pressing you into the mattress, continuing the rub of her length against your pussy.

“ ‘Vika –”

“Wrong,” She cuts in, a predatory smirk still dancing on her lips. Her temples damp from sweat, along with her chest and collarbones. A few drops even slid down to mix in with your own mess against her tanned skin. “C’mon, my little fleshlight can’t ‘member my title now?”

“Sorry, mommy, sorry,” You mutter, lips pressed out in a pout.

“That’s it, follow mommy’s dick,” She moans out and her words make you blink up at her. You hadn’t noticed you were arching up into her as best as you could, dragging your sensitive cunt along the shaft of her cock. “Just eager t’take me as much as I want, huh, baby?”

“Mine,” You manage after swallowing thickly, lips parted as your body tries to roll up into her as best as it can. Still dragging your cunt across her shaft. “Mommy’s mine.”

“Yeah, baby, am I?” She taunts, fingers digging harder into the suppleness of your thighs.

You grunt, feeling a tightness in your throat as you narrow your eyes up at her. “You are mine,” You croak, moaning as she lets go of your left thigh, using her right hand to push her dick harder against your cunt. Giving you a proper spot to grind your clit into. “Say it.”

“Oh?” Sevika chuckles, eyes on yours as she taps her cock head against your clit just to feel your thighs tremble beneath her touch. “Not the one ‘n control, princess,” she reminds, smirk curling her lips when you glare at her, when your lips twitch in disdain. “My frightenin’ little pup.”

“Say it, mommy,” A different edge teased your tone, as you wriggled beneath her, trying to loosen her grip from your thigh. “You’re mine.”

“Easy,” Sevika warns, claws digging so hard into the back of your thigh, it makes your clit twitch and pulls you out of the dazed thoughts that were blurring your vision. That was eating away at the delicious ache and pleasure your body was still buzzing with. The older coos and smirks down at you. “Ya like being mine? Pretty pussy can’t —” You gasp at feeling her push into you again, filling you and stretching you once more. Your stomach is tightening at the sensation and the way that Sevika’s moan vibrates throughout you. “— feel pleasure without me buried in it.”

Her voice sounds hoarse as she drags her length out of you before plunging into your wet heat once more. “Fuck, ‘lways s’tight after comin’.”

You moan. “Hm, mommy, still —“

“Still sensitive?” She finishes for you, wrapping her arms around your thighs to pull you closer, impaling you deeper onto her dick. Her head braces between your calves as she presses the sides of them into the sides of her neck. You cry out, fingers digging into her biceps when her arms tighten around your legs and fuck into you.

“Ah, mommy!” You sob, clawing at flesh and metal alike, feeling your skin rise with goosebumps. The drag of her dick inside of you, quick and rough, made aching radiate from your pussy. You whimper in discomfort and your eyes puddle with tears.

You loved when she fucked you like this, took her own pleasure and used you as a mere hole to satisfy it. Each thrust stimulates the soreness blooming inside of you, making you crane your neck back and moan whoreishly into the air above you.

“Please, mommy,” You beg, thighs clamping together tighter, gasping as Sevika’s claws dig into supple flesh again. “Mommy, mommy, it aches!”

“Thought you liked when it did,” Sevika laughs, swiveling her hips against the plushness of your ass. Loving how the hard contours of her flesh meet the soft, pillowy curves of your own. “Does m’girl need a break?” There’s a teasing drawl to her words but you aren’t allowed to answer before she’s already pulling out.

You swallow back a whimper at the loss, holding your legs open when she pushes them into your chest. Silent obedience. How she loved that you were so eager to please her.

“Don’t move ‘n inch,” Rough fingers flexing into the back of your knees as she crowds you into the mattress. “Not repeatin’ myself t’night.”

You nod, inhaling deeply, willing yourself to fill your lungs with air as she pulls away from you. You don’t move from the position she leaves you in, instead, you hold onto the back of your thighs. Bring your knees closer, feel the pillowy skin of your lower belly fold and your breasts to shift upward. Closer to your neck.

Sevika sees it all, takes in the sight of your flesh like it’s a personal gift. Of course it is, though. You are here and you are hers, and there’s no one else she’d want instead. She doesn’t voice this to you, it’s not in her to voice. She shows it by the way her breathing hitches at the sight of you.

“Perfect,” Sevika groans and stands, kicking off her clothing, peeling off the remaining tatters of the shirt you cut open. 

You expect her to continue, to her having taken off her clothing in second’s flat having been the break she offered. Your lips part when she lays between your thighs, rolling her hips into the mattress, hissing at the drag of cotton against such sensitive skin.

Her hands pry your own from your thighs, setting your legs over her shoulders. Her fingers bound around your wrists as she slowly pins them beneath your own ass. You didn’t notice this, however, because as soon as your legs were draped over her shoulders, her tongue was licking your cunt.

You moan, stomach jolting in surprise as her tongue glides against your clit and rub circles into it with the tip. She groans as she flattens her tongue against your cunt, feeling your hole clench. You didn’t have to look at her to know she was smirking, but you felt her eyes bore into your face until you made the eye contact she always requested of you.

She rubbed her thumbs against your wrists in silent praise, tongue teasing your hole. You whimper, arching into her mouth, “Please, mommy.”

The growl Sevika has slipped past her lips makes your clit twitch and has you moaning as she pushes her tongue into you. The woman is as starving for this as you, evident in the way she tongues your walls and buries her nose into your clit. You whine, pressing yourself against the woman’s face, grinding on her.

Sevika moans, tongue stroking your walls, mouth and nose pressed against your cunt. Her eyes haven’t moved from your own, a gleam in them as you register her fingers tightening around your wrists. The metal tips of her claws digging into supple skin along with the heat of her right hand. She pulls you, making you moan loudly and buck your hips as her face is pressed harder against you, fucking her tongue into you.

Your back arches, grounding yourself eagerly against her mouth and feeling the satisfied grunt she responds with in turn. Her hands on your wrists, shifting you, using your body anchored on her arms to fuck your body back into her face. The slope of her nose grinding into your clit makes you whimper and almost pull back but her pointed growl keeps you still.

“Mommy —“ A gasp as her tongue curls inside of you, stroking the velvety, twitching spot that makes you mewl.

Your thighs squeeze her head as she presses more of her face into you, shaking her head to rub your clit and make you whimper. Your hole clenches around her tongue as it slams against your g-spot.

She was a starving woman. Grunting and growling into your cunt in ways that you could feel your clit engulf. The vibrations of it make you moan and grind more eagerly against her, desperately. You twist your wrists in her hold, not trying to free yourself but trying to hold onto something.

Your bottom lip trembles in a pout and you can see Sevika’s permanent crease between her brows soften a fraction. She gives in to you quickly, sliding your fingers together with hers and squeezing them both your hands as she trails her tongue up your cunt.

There’s a gasp stuttering out of your chest as she swirls her tongue around your clit. Still sensitive, enough to make your thighs squeeze her head for a second. Sevika can feel her dick dribbling more pre-cum against the bedsheets in turn.

Slow but hard circles of her tongue tracing the muscles she just rubbed the inside and out of when she fucked you hard enough just now. Your brows are creased together in pleasure and sensitivity, lips parted and whines turning into soft mewls as her tongue worked on you.

Every movement of her tongue, her nose back on your clit for you to grind on, every sound of pleasure she was muffling into your cunt made you slicker against her face. Had you chasing another orgasm as you grinded into her face and tightened your fingers around hers.

She knew when you were close, too. Of course she does. Knows your walls tighten, your g-spot turns velvety and trembles, and you lift your hips up minutely when you’re about to gush for her. She doesn’t let up, just grunts into your pussy as your thighs squeeze her head hard enough to have it ringing.

Sevika let go of your fingers when you pull them back to knit into her hair. So you can grip it and squeeze your thighs harder around her, moaning as the bloom of pain engulfs you from having your clit used again to cum with. The pain spreads, takes hold of your stomach and your bladder, tells you exactly what will happen. You can’t even find the voice to warn her about it, only your jaw hanging uselessly while your throat tightens and eyes flutter closed.

You cry out as you gush against her face. Your walls tremble and pulse around her tongue and you eagerly fuck your hips into her face, hearing the stickiness of your own arousal against her perfect nose.

“Fuck,” You whine as her fingers dig into the folds of your thighs where they meet your hipbones, sinking into the ample softness there.

You part your thighs and Sevika lets her chest fill with air as she trails her tongue up to your clit. It makes you gasp and push at her forehead, eliciting a deep rumble of a self-satisfied laugh from the older.

“Always fuckin’ addictin’, baby,” She smears a wet kiss to your inner thigh in time for your fingers to relax against her face. It allowed her the moment to press a feigned-sweet to your clit, making you groan and twitch against her face.

You can’t close your legs, even after she shifts up to kneel between your thighs. Every movement of your legs has sparks of residual pleasure coursing up your back. Her hands trailing up your thighs, following the outward curve of your hips, settling onto your waist with a tight, determined grip.

Sevika bows over you, pulling you closer in time to crash her mouth against yours. You grunt and grip her wrists, stretching your neck upward, trailing your tongue across her bottom lip. Her fingers flex at your waist, pulling a groan from her chest as she parts her lips, tongue darting out to meet your own. To push into your mouth instead and force you to taste your own earthy flavor coating her tongue and lips.

The action makes you throb, gasping when you feel the brush of her shaft against your pussy. Your thighs tremble around her as you raise your thighs enough for her own to slip beneath yours. For her cock to press harder against your cunt and make you whimper while you suck on her tongue.

“Mommy hasn’t cum yet,” She reminds you, a smirk breaking across her lips.

You don’t have time to protest before she’s angling her hips back and dipping a hand between your thighs to slip her cock into you once more. You sob in sensitivity, as your walls tremble around her shaft while she sinks her fingers into your waist, bottom out inside of you.

“Hm, greedy lil’ pussy,” Her hum was a low, vibrating sound against her chest as she leans down to kiss your jaw, to mouth at your skin while her hips fuck you with determination.

“Ah, mommy, h-hurts,” Tears sting your eyes as your cunt is stuffed with her cock, walls almost trembling around her from sensitivity alone. She continues her relentless strokes of her dick inside of you, moaning into your neck as she sucks marks onto your skin.

Sevika was biting into patches of your skin hard enough for you to whimper and tighten your cunt around her. She’s smirking into your neck in response to you, bucking into you hard, just to have to cry out and shifting your hands to claw at her back. It makes her shiver as your nails leave angry marks behind, leaving her skin tingling and nearly sizzling with the lines.

You could feel the flexing of her muscular back beneath your touch, as well as hear the puff of her artificial bicep as it expelled purple vapor. You had once scratched her hard enough to cause Shimmer to be pumped into her and for her to turn rabid on top of you. She had never come so much before, had you leaking with the amount of it despite years on estrogen.

You swore it altered you that entire night.

“Mommy,” you choke out as she grinds into you, grunting into your neck as her tongue traces the bite mark she left. She was in deep, pressing into your cervix and having your thighs seize with every brutal thrust.

Your cunt felt like it was tethering on an ache that was threatening to turn painful the longer this went on. But you didn’t dare voice this. You loved when she used you so thoroughly, when she made you squirm and tear up because it took her so long to finish.

You could see it frustrated her at times, but part of you was secretly elated by it. Only you were right for her. Conditioned and shaped to take her until she either came or made you cum enough times to make you weep.

She was fucking yours even if she didn’t utter it in the ways you needed to hear it in.

“Fuck, should get a strap to breed ya with,” She growls, biting into your jaw just to hear you squeak and tighten your thighs around her hips. Your cunt squeezes her tighter and she moans, hips bucking into you in surprise. “Shit, y’liked that, huh?”

“Breed me,” You whimpered, grinding up into her and making her moan louder, gripping your side tighter while her prosthetic hand shifts to brace against the mattress. “Please, mommy, please.”

Sevika groans at the sound of your begging, at how it makes her arm rattle while her heart races. She’s digging her claws into the mattress, slamming her hips into you while you let out a pretty string of pleas to her while kissing her sweaty shoulder.

“Puppy need a littler that bad?” Her voice is restrained, almost a husk against the shell of your ear where she spoke before catching the cartilage between her teeth.

It made you shiver, had you digging your nails into her shoulder blades more. The woman grunts against your ear in response, your soft palm and sharp nails pressing into her scarred left shoulder blade always makes her sensitive. You can feel her cock twitch inside of you in response to your nails clawing at her.

“Mine,” You mutter as she grinds into you, making your lips part and moan decadently into the muscle against your lips. The shift of her shoulder makes your mouth water and you squeak in surprise when she snaps her hips harshly into you.

“Am I?” She teases, trailing the tip of her tongue down the side of your neck. You tilt your head to the side, allowing her more space to put her mouth on. Your clit throbs at feeling her hot tongue trail your skin this way, another eager twitch of your cunt around her cock to elicit even more lovely growls from her.

“Mine, mommy,” It wasn’t as sharp as before. Not a growl or a fierce declaration, but a soft plea. 

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” She caves, sighing into your neck as her heart jolts without her consent at hearing your soft voice. She had stirred the undefying, bratty energy out of you for the night. You would be nothing but pliant for its remainder. “ ‘n’ you’re fuckin’ mine.” There’s still a growl behind her words as she bites your neck again and makes you gasp and buck into her.

You nod against her shoulder, mouth pressed to the spot before parting your lips to dig your teeth into her. She moans, her muscles twitching under the force of your bite and her hips stutter in surprise. “Fuck, atta puppy. Mark your mommy up.”

You moan into her shoulder as she picks up speed again, as the head of her cock keeps slamming into your cervix painfully. Deliciously so. Your body erupted in goosebumps in response, moaning into her shoulder and sinking your teeth harder into her muscular skin.

Each tighter dig of your teeth into her shoulder made her moan and fuck you rougher. You were whimpering into her skin trapped between your teeth as you clawed at her back, squeezing her hips with your thighs.

“Hm,” The sound is fucked out of you. A pathetic sound still being muffled into tanned, sweaty skin. Her hand on your waist squeezes one last time before coming up to press her forearm into the mattress, a spot that slots her arm beneath your shoulder.

Sevika can feel pain throbbing down her neck and back from your biting and scratching. She hisses when you pull your teeth back only to sink into a different spot, still within the tender range you had just toyed with.

Her cock was weeping inside of you, clear and plentiful. She’s surprised she’s been able to hold her erection for this long, but the constant prodding of your teeth against her shoulder and your nails scrambling up her back only to scratch their way down helped greatly. The prickles of pain always made her hard.

“Let me hear ya, puppy,” She groans when you listen and pull your teeth from her shoulder only to moan against the spot. Her shoulder was throbbing where you had bit, thumping and hot despite her not touching to find out the warmth of it. “Finally listenin’,” She notes with a pointed chuckle, followed by a moan as her stomach tightens.

Your cunt felt the ache of each thrust, your clit twitching despite the onslaught of pleasure brought on it moments prior. The bundle of nerves was aching again but sparking with more pleasure each time Sevika stirred her cock inside of you and focused on the buried nerves.

“Please,” You manage to croak, nails digging into her back and almost preening at feeling her shudder against you. You didn’t exactly know what you were begging for, just knew that you needed her closer despite her chest beginning to settle against your own.

She was close, as the deep growl told you, as she pressed her tits into your own and her thrusts became more hurried. You squeeze her hips with your thighs, digging your heels into the end of her spine just to hear the faint whirring of her arm in response. You were moaning and whining into her shoulder, tongue pressed into where you had bitten, practically drooling on yourself.

“Bite,” You whine, swirling your hips to meet her thrusts and feel her moaning into your jaw where she nipped at. “Bite me, please.”

“Need mommy to take a chunk outta ya?” Sevika groans, grazing her canines at the side of your neck just to make you shiver and tighten your cunt around her cock. She curses and presses a harsh kiss to your jaw before sinking her teeth into the fluttering spot of your pulse on your neck.

A moan falls from your lips, loud and guttural in nature. Your cunt is sloshing with every thrust, walls trembling around her to prolong the bliss of feeling her dick stir up your insides.

Sevika digs her teeth into you harder, shaking her head, grunting into your skin as she chases her orgasm. You already came twice, she can be greedy and cum inside of you without worrying about your orgasm.

You couldn’t deny that you liked when she did. When she used you and had you on edge the entire night. Tormented and teased your pussy until it was puffy, red and leaking for a release. Just one. That mostly happened when she’s had a rough day, and came with her using every single hole until she came in any or all of them.

“Please, mommy, please cum, please,” You whimpered, one hand tangled in her hair while the other dug your nails into her flexing side. You didn’t want to argue with her anymore, just needed her to fill you and make you cum one more time for the night. Just once.

Your stomach was coiling, clit throbbing as you fucked your hips into her own. She curses into your flesh, pulling her teeth back just to sink into another spot. Harder. It made you squeal and thighs to tremble around her sides.

“Come on,” Sevika grumbles against your skin. “Be good ‘n’ fuckin’ take it,” She kissed a new spot before sinking her teeth into her in time with her hips become sloppy, before she’s moaning into your neck and pumping you full. Her arm hisses and clanks, bubbling with warmth from the spike of her heart beating so fast as she came.

You moan, hips bucking as she fills you and feeling the way your cunt pulses. How you squirt against her lower belly and she sinks her teeth harder into you in silent praise.

The feeling of your cunt’s constant pulsing has her rocking her his gently inside of you. Trying to chase more of the warmth of your pussy while she swirls her watery cum with the slick of your arousal trapped inside of you.

You sigh, partially still wishing for more but you felt too drained to move a muscle. You loosen your legs around her and she takes the opportunity to shift.

Sevika pulls her teeth from your neck, licking the spot and feeling you shiver before kissing the heated skin beneath her lips. She wraps her arm around you and pulls you up into her chest while turning to lay you both on your sides.

You groan at the shift, as her dick tugs on your rim and you let one of your legs shift beneath you, while the other drapes higher on her side. Pressed into the cinch of her waist. She squeezes your knee with clawed fingers, slotting her mouth against yours as she accommodates her right arm beneath your head and the pillow, propping you higher.

“Gonna keep it inside?” You tease in a soft giggle against her lips, hand cupping her face and thumbing her cheek. A sweet action despite her dick softening inside of you.

“Miine to do that to,” She scoffs, pulling your thigh to press her hips flusher against yours. Just to hear you groan and your eyes to soften. “ ‘s what you’re for.”

“Course it is,” You hum, kissing her again, licking into her mouth. “Mommy’s little puppy.”

“Atta girl,” She hums, squeezing your hip before wrapping her prosthetic arm around you to pull your bodies flush together.

You could feel your body relax into hers and felt her press herself closer to you. It was a soft shift but she always enjoyed being pressed to you and grabbing you while she dozed off.

She leans forward when your eyes are unfocused, while sleep begins to take you. She whispered into your ear, so low you thought you had imagined it. But you knew she’d deny it if you asked, so you smiled sleepily and squeezed her in turn while your body melts into the mattress. “All yours, kid.”

red dividers by @strangergraphics red/black divider by @k1ssyoursister

Requested by my girlfriend @xxlreader

Officially, it's called The Hexcore Frights Experience—a name that sounds like it was brainstormed in a fancy boardroom by a bunch of people with a PowerPoint addiction. Something with bullet points. Something with the word "immersive" tossed in like seasoning. It's a mouthful, over-designed, desperate. Like some guy with a clipboard thought slapping "Experience" at the end would make plywood and fog machines feel like theater.

It doesn't.

Mostly, it just confuses little kids—too many syllables, too many missing baby teeth to pronounce the words right. The name gets lisped into oblivion out of sugar-stained mouths before anyone even makes it past the creaking metal gates. So, it morphed into something else. Simpler, catchier.

The Hex.

Technically, it's just a local scare park that's been popping up for the last ten years. One of those cheap seasonal attractions that comes out of nowhere, runs all month, then vanishes overnight before November even hits. There's a logo, barely legible on the peeling banner outside: a grinning jack-o'-lantern with a monocle and a top hat, for some reason. It's built on the edge of Zaun, on a strip of land no one fought over because there was nothing to win, where the air smells like burnt rubber and rain that never fully rinses the place clean. It's dead ground, simple as that—just cracked concrete, weeds, and abandoned train tracks that split the neighborhood like a stitched scar. Too loud for housing, too ugly for retail.

So, naturally, they filled it with horror.

And cheap lights. And actors in borrowed costumes. And fences that shake when the wind hits just right.

And, at some point, Jinx.

She never did like rules. She isn't wired for systems, for schedules, for managers named Carl with coffee breath and spreadsheets. Work was always a joke to her—clock in, clock out, try not to punch anyone before lunch. She drifts through jobs like they're hand-me-downs: ill-fitting, itchy, clearly designed for someone else's body. Minimum wage makes her mean, fluorescent lighting makes her twitchy, and uniforms make her claustrophobic. And telling her what to do? That's the fastest way to lose an eye.

So no, Jinx doesn't want to be employed. She did try, by applying to cafés and corner stores. She tried standing still behind cash registers with a fake smile and a name tag that wasn't hers. She lasted three weeks at a smoothie chain before dumping a mango-pineapple monstrosity down the front of a customer's hoodie—straw and all—two days at a dog groomer's before shaving a Pomeranian into a lion, and one shift at a library before deciding silence isn't just golden, it's insufferable.

She doesn't plan on working this fall, not even as one last stunt before the frost hits. Planning would mean thinking three hours ahead, and lately she's been lucky enough to keep her skull from spinning. She's good at surviving. Good at being strange in a room full of strangers. Good at blowing things up—metaphorically, these days. But not good at showing up. Or behaving. Or belonging.

She's on the floor again, her back pressed against the coffee table as she tries to get herself off, failing spectacularly. She's got her phone in one hand, a half-watched porn tab open—some grainy POV clip with shitty lighting but better moaning than usual—and her other hand wrapped around herself, sticky and flushed and only getting stiffer out of sheer stubbornness. Her boxers are halfway down her thighs as she jerks lazily, but the fan's making the spit dry up too fast.

And that's when her phone buzzes.

It's Vi. No greeting. No context.

Just a photo of a crooked flyer taped to a stickers-covered pole near the docks—half-ripped, a little blurry, in that cheap orange and black print that screams October job opening. The words NOW HIRING — SEASONAL SCARE STAFF glare at her through the pixels, followed by smaller print in Comic Sans promising "competitive pay" and "no questions". The bottom's lined with those little tear-off tabs that have a number on them, most already gone.

One message beneath it: "you'd scare the fuck outta someone. might as well get paid."

"Cockblockin' even from across the city," Jinx mutters, tossing her phone aside and dragging herself up with a groan.

She's not doing that. No way she's spending her nights covered in fake blood and babysitting Topsiders.

And yet, her fingers itch.

Because it's not about the job, it's about the setup. A haunted park that looks like someone's late-stage caffeine psychosis? It sounds dirty, disorganized, temporary, and just unprofessional enough to tolerate. The kind of thing she could disappear into if it just gave her something to do with her nights.

And that? That sounds perfect. There's only so much pacing a girl can do before she starts thinking about lighting something on fire just to feel warm.

She's already up and grabbing her boots before she realizes she's moving, her cock not quite cooperating just yet under tight shorts and fishnets. By the time she gets there, the sun's gone down and the sky over Zaun looks like dirty dishwater. There's no security, just a folding table near the entrance, a stack of forms weighted with a rock, and a guy in a vampire cape scrolling through his phone.

"Name?" he asks, barely looking up, pen tucked behind his ear.

"Jinx," she says. "Short and sweet."

He doesn't even flinch, like it's not the craziest thing he's heard today. "You auditioning?"

"Sure." She shrugs, tilting her head. "If that's what we're calling it."

"You into clowns?"

"I mean, not sexually."

He gives her a half-smile and a waiver that definitely wouldn't hold up in court in response. "Alright. Clown maze's short-staffed. Go inside, show 'em what you got."

That's it. Fifteen minutes later, she's hired. Which means she gets handed a key to the costume trailer that smells like armpits, fake leather, and three kinds of expired hairspray, plus a lanyard by a manager who tells her she can "do whatever the fuck she wants" as long as no one sues.

And yeah, she doesn't want a job. But if she gets to dress like a walking nightmare, crawl out of holes, and scare people until they cry? While maybe getting off to it later in the staff bathroom?

That's worth clocking in for.

She breezes through orientation day like a joke—twenty minutes of safety warnings that include tips on how not to get punched in the face, and a bored supervisor telling her the only real rule of her zone is to never break character. No one cares if she ad-libs or climbs shit she's not supposed to, as long as she stays in costume and doesn't traumatize toddlers with face paint into therapy.

No script, just a persona.

And tonight? She finally gets to let it loose.

By the time her shift starts, the park is already buzzing with strobe lights and teenagers screaming like they're actually being murdered.

Somewhere in that chaos?

You.

The first time you went to The Hex, you were thirteen and too cool to scream. Your older cousin dragged you through the haunted house and you pretended to be bored until a ghost puppet swung down from the ceiling and you pissed yourself so hard you had to throw your jeans away.

You've been going back ever since. First with friends, then with dates, and now alone—like it's your own sacred pilgrimage.

It's not even about the adrenaline anymore. That wore off around age sixteen, when you stopped screaming and started noticing how the walls were built: shabby foamcore layered with blacklight paint and duct tape. You don't flinch at jumpscares when you can spot an actor from a mile away by the way their shoes squeak.

There's comfort in it—the tackiness, the loudness, the ritual of it. You know the map by heart. You could run it blindfolded.

Not that you would. Not with how shitty the floor is.

You start at the food court they call Piltover Plaza, which is funny, considering the only thing posh about it is the churros being slightly overpriced. The smell hits you first: deep-fried dough, cinnamon sugar, buttery pretzels, and something aggressively artificial pretending to be cheese. You always get the tropical slurpee that stains your tongue blue, and the caramel popcorn that leaves your fingers sticky well into the first stop: The Enforcers' Quarters, a prison-themed area with bars and torn jumpsuits, where the words "PROTOCOL BREACH" loop and echo throughout the cold cells. This year, they've added body bags to the showers.

Then it's on to The Madman's Lab. You've never been a fan—mostly because it feels claustrophobic and they shove you through the plastic curtains too fast. It's all severed limbs and twitchy actors in lab coats who scream about unstable serums. You respect the effort, but you never quite remember the plot. You're too focused on the woman in a bloody nurse costume pretending to eat someone's heart.

But the real reason you come? The Shimmer Fields. Out near the edge of the property, it's the furthest zone in the park, shoved against the back fence by the dead train tracks, with vines twisting out of the ground like veins. The theme is loose—something about a chemical spill, experimental tests gone wrong, bodies mutating under the purple haze. The set designers took the word "biohazard" and ran with it… or maybe stumbled. The whole thing glows like a UV-lit wet dream with toxic barrels oozing neon slime that definitely isn't edible, but one time you saw a kid lick it anyway.

You know which fog machine hisses too early and which animatronic hasn't worked in years but still gets reset every night. You've memorized the routes through each maze, tracked the themes, watched the decorations get weirder, cheaper, better. Hell, you've even grown used to the fake blood—sickly sweet, like cherry NyQuil—that clings to your nostrils by the end of the loop. You move through it slower than the rest, not because you're scared—God, you wish you could still get scared by this place—but because you like to take your time, study who's giving it their all and who's clearly stoned in a werewolf costume. You notice the improvisations, the missed cues, the moments that almost work. It feels like a fever dream built on high school drama club sets, but it's your favorite kind of horror: a little theatrical, a little pathetic, a little gross.

And The Hex, for all its obvious flaws, commits harder than most. Every year, some new corner gets added or reimagined, and every year, you're here to take it all in. It's the one thing that doesn't change—even when you do.

Still, for all your affection, you have your boundaries. And The Funhouse? That's always been a hard no for you. Not because you're scared of clowns. Not in the balloon animal phobia, repressed childhood trauma kind of way. You just never understood the appeal. They're loud, unpredictable, exhausting. They don't operate by logic, or narrative, even. They feel like the cheap punchline of horror—too bright, too much, too desperate for attention. There's something inherently needy about them that suffocates you.

You don't like when it's too much.

You don't like when it's unpredictable.

And you definitely don't like being bait.

Which is why you're mildly horrified when your brain catches up and you realize your feet are already inside.

The gaudy archway is low-lit and pulsing with color like a sideshow on ketamine: deep pinks, oversaturated reds, and lime green lights that flicker at a headache-inducing tempo. The air smells like cotton candy gone stale and a sugary kind of decay. There's fog here, too—a staple, so it seems—but thinner than in the other areas, lower to the ground, more like steam than mist, which only makes everything feel sweaty. The floor is a mess of checkerboard tiles deliberately sloping at weird angles, laid out by someone who apparently hates ankles. You adjust your balance like you're navigating through a sinking ship, and every step suddenly becomes a correction.

The mirror tunnel waits just ahead, spinning slow and nauseating, designed to disorient. You hate that thing. It's a space where nothing looks real, especially you. It makes you feel like you're being watched from inside your own reflection. Like if you look too long, something might blink back. There's a ball pit, too, its colors dulled with grime. You'd bet money it hasn't been cleaned since the season opened. Somewhere deeper inside, you hear mechanical laughter looped on a busted speaker. It skips once, then resets, like a jack-in-the-box trying to kill itself.

Everything is still as unholy and overstimulating as you remember.

You think, distantly, I shouldn't be here. This was a mistake.

But that thought's already rotting at the back of your mind, useless now when your body doesn't agree and keeps you moving.

A pair of actors lurches out of nowhere—one cackling behind a latex mask, the other in a blood-stained romper, dragging a prop axe behind them. You flatten against the nearest wall and hold your breath, waiting for them to vanish back into whatever trapdoor they slithered out of.

And that's when you notice her.

Still. Silent. At the far end of the corridor, standing under a sickly magenta light that pulses just enough to cast shadows up her lean body, one leg kicked lazily against the wall.

You spot the costume first, unmistakably clown-coded. It's a fractured spin on a harlequin, a mix of punk and playhouse: corseted bodice in midnight blue, patterned with diamonds and cinched tight where it matters, boning hugging the dip of her waist. One shoulder is bare, blue clouds swirling and winding up her bicep, the other covered by a sleeve of mesh that ripples with every breath she takes. Her pants are jagged and asymmetrical, reminding you of a half-eaten circus tent held together by mismatched belts and safety pins, combat boots laced with neon ribbons. She looks wild and meticulous all at once, like every messy stitch was chosen. Her hair's in two tousled bubble braids, bright blue and frizzing out where the humidity's caught them. There are tiny bells weaved in, and you hear them chiming softly before you realize she's gotten closer. Her features are feminine—sharp jaw, full lips the color of a bruise, blue eyes made bigger by the contrast of her white base makeup, slightly cracked like old porcelain.

You swallow hard. You don't even mean for your eyes to drop. You're just tracing the slope of her waist, innocently following the curve of her body downward, past the glint of metal at her monkey-shaped buckle…

And that's when you see it.

The strange shape beneath the fabric doesn't register all at once, but it's just enough of a bulge to catch your eye, to interrupt the silhouette you were expecting. Your heart kicks hard against your ribs from the devastating fact that she's packing… and she clearly knows it. Your eyes flick back up to hers without thinking, cheeks heating up, but it's too late. She meets your gaze with a kind of wicked delight, like embarrassment is a present she's just unwrapped, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward into something smug.

She cocks her head, slow and birdlike, her teeth catching her bottom lip like she's holding something back. Then, without a word, she shifts her weight with a soft roll of her hips forward. It's a show-and-tell, disguised as a stretch that only pulls the fabric tighter, framing the outline you'd just tried to unsee, like she's parodying seduction just to check if you'll bite. Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she's resisting the urge to really perform, to run a hand down her stomach, or to say something loud and awful. But she knows she doesn't need to. The power's already in her posture, in the quiet confidence radiating off her.

Because you looked, she noticed, and now she's posing like your attention is the spotlight keeping her warm, and you just happened to pause right where it hits her best.

Her gloved hand lifts, and she spins the small prop knife resting between her manicured fingers. It catches the light once, then disappears into a hidden holster, like a magic trick. "Caught you," she says, voice sing-songy, yet hoarse from too many hours on the job. There's a rasp at the edges, like her throat's been worn down by a dozen screams and a hundred jokes. Still, she sounds so pleased with herself—like she's just won a game you didn't know you were playing, and now she's wondering what you'd do for a better view.

A lot, is the answer.

It's supposed to be part of the act, you think.

Probably.

Maybe.

But she doesn't give you time to decide before she moves closer, her corset creaking with the motion.

She's tall—not freakishly so, but taller than you expect, enough to make you tilt your chin up. Maybe it's the boots, maybe it's the way she straightens her spine as she starts circling you. Not like she's sizing you up—more like she already knows your size, your shape, your weight in her hands, and now she's just confirming what she already pictured in her head. Every step is slow and deliberate, predatory in a way that feels personal. She smells like bubblegum and musk, sweat clinging under her costume, but also something spicier, almost warm. The very person leaking through the seams of the act.

You catch yourself staring again.

And she catches you catching yourself.

It's a miracle she doesn't start clapping, really.

"You're not gonna deny it?" she presses, like she's hoping you'll try. "No 'oh my God, what are you talking about?' No pretending you were looking at my belt buckle?"

Your throat goes dry, and your brain empties out like someone hit the reset button. "Would you believe me if I did?" you ask, trying to sound casual. It comes out as a dare wrapped in a cough.

"Nope." Her grin spreads like ink bleeding through paper. She doesn't stop walking—just pivots on her heel, hands in her pockets. "You don't have that kind of poker face."

"Guess I should work on that," you mumble, forcing your gaze down to your sneakers, hoping they'll offer you a dignified exit.

"Guess I should give you more chances to practice," she tosses over her shoulder without missing a beat.

That pulls a snort out of you—short, surprised, just a hint over too genuine,—that makes her eyes light up.

"There it is," she says. "Knew you had that sound in you."

You look up at her again, trying to steel yourself, but she's already closer than before—close enough that her shadow overlaps yours. You swallow hard, heart hammering louder than the distant sound cues in the maze.

"Look," you say quietly, simultaneously exhaling the breath you didn't realize you were holding, "I didn't mean to stare."

"I know."

"I just—”

"I know," she repeats, slower this time, and somehow it passes as permission. Her whole demeanor's shifted—softer and more intimate, but just as charged. She's looking at you like you're the attraction and she's the visitor now. "Relax," she drawls, almost kind, like she's fond of you already. "I like being stared at."

"Yeah," you manage, voice thin as you try to recover. "I'm starting to pick up on that."

She chuckles, a short but bright sound that echoes off the walls. "Good. I'd hate to be subtle."

"You're really confident for someone in clown makeup."

"And you're really mouthy for someone who nearly tripped over herself looking at my dick."

"I didn't—”

"Well don't lie now. You'll hurt my feelings," she cuts in smoothly, smirking like she's two steps ahead of you.

"You always harass the guests like this?" you ask, trying to deflect, but your tone slips somewhere into flustered despite your best efforts, thoughts scattered, akin to glitter across a carpet.

"Only the pretty ones."

"That is… wildly unprofessional."

"But deeply satisfying," she shrugs, like she's made peace with the ethics violations and now she's just doing you a favor. She stretches her arms above her head—trying to reset her shoulders or maybe just giving you something else to look at—and lets out a low, exaggerated sigh, like she's been working too hard at keeping things PG. "Speaking of unprofessional… Got a name?" she finally asks, tilting her head again, like a curious dog sniffing around something it likes and wants to keep.

"Do you?"

"Jinx."

You don't say it, but it fits, like it was stitched into her mouth before birth. It sounds right, sitting there, curled on her tongue—too short, too sharp, a spark that knows exactly where to land. You offer yours in return, out of reflex more than trust, and she grabs it like a toy. She says it back just once, but somehow it sounds obscene coming from her mouth. It's not on purpose—she's not laying it on thick. It's more like she's trying it on, deciding how it'd sound whispered in the dark, gasped into a pillow, moaned until it's all she remembers how to say.

It hits you like a tripwire.

You clear your throat, needing to fill the air with something. "So… what exactly happens now?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, feigning innocence with the grace of someone who knows she's anything but.

"Isn't this the part where you… I don't know, jump at me and scream? Or I scream. Or someone screams." Your voice pitches higher at the end, not sure where to settle, and you wince as soon as you hear yourself.

But Jinx doesn't jump at you. She doesn't scream, either. She simply gives you a once-over, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes as if she's already seen the ending and is savoring the middle. "You don't seem like a screamer."

"Maybe you're just not that scary," you shoot back, crossing your arms defensively.

She hums at that, low in her throat, not rising to the challenge. Your skin's buzzing under her stare, and your brain's busy replaying every moment of this conversation on a four second delay. You wonder how long she's been pushing boundaries like this. You wonder if she's ever broken character so cleanly before. You wonder what she wants from you, besides the satisfaction of making you squirm.

The silence stretches, but not uncomfortably.

"I like the quiet ones," she says, after a beat. "You watch more, think more. Kinda like prey."

You can't help but swallow, not missing the predatory look she gives you before you ask, dumbly, "And what does that make you?"

"Hungry, obviously."

She doesn't even blink after she says it, just lets it sit there between you like an open invitation. You should walk away. You know that. The moment feels loaded now, off-script in a way that goes well beyond park rules. Her eyes flick to your mouth, like she's trying to memorize the way it moves. Like she's imagining what it would look like wrapped around her fingers… or something else entirely.

Your heartbeat's in your throat now, pulsing behind your ears. You glance over your shoulder, noting the empty hallway behind you and the EXIT sign in flickering red letters just a few feet away. You're almost out. Almost safe. "You know you're breaking like… three park rules right now."

"Only three? Shit. I must be slipping." She steps forward, the toe of her boot nudging yours. She's still smiling, but it dissolves into a small and crooked thing. "Besides… You don't look like you're complaining."

You don't say anything—don't need to. Your body answers for you: still, breathless, waiting. You're standing in the middle of a haunted maze and this is what gets your adrenaline spiking.

She watches your chest rise and fall like she's syncing her own breath to it, studying you for rhythm, cues, and a beat she can follow straight into your undoing. Then, slowly, she leans closer and asks, huskier now, "You want to help me break another one?"

It should sound playful… but she doesn't move like she's joking, doesn't blink like someone teasing a stranger. She leans in instead—close enough that her breath hits your cheek in bursts of artificial sweetness and whatever she had eaten at the food court earlier. Your mouth opens to ask what she means, but the words stall out when her hand moves.

She drags two fingers down your bare arm, slow and warm, pressing just enough to feel the muscle beneath. The contact is invasive in a way that makes your spine tingle and leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She keeps going, down to the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse fluttering like a trapped moth, under the soft pads of her digits.

"Sensitive," she murmurs, half to herself—more observation than tease. You try to breathe, but it catches in your chest instead, like a broken metronome. "That one doesn't count," she adds. "That was just a warm-up."

Then her hand reaches for yours, in a way that assumes you won't fight it. And you don't, because of course you wouldn't. Your mind is too foggy to find a reason to. She guides it down, past the cold buckle of her belt and straight to the front of her pants, like you're walking through a crowd and she's leading you somewhere quiet. You don't even realize where she's taking you at first, until your palm meets something firm and heavy beneath the worn fabric. Your fingers twitch, but your brain's already short-circuiting under the weight of her cock in your grip, the way her hips subtly push forward, chase your warmth, your softness.

"You're blushing," she points out with a pleased grin, forehead nearly pressed to yours now. "That's cute."

"I… I wasn't expecting—"

"Sure you were." She nudges closer. It's disgusting, really, the way she grinds forward just enough to drag the firm shape against your hand again, as if she's rewarding you for having the good sense to touch her back. You feel the ridge of it, the sheer size, the way it throbs under your touch like she's been holding back all night, just for a moment like this. "C'mon, sweet thing. You've already walked into this trap. Might as well enjoy it."

"I–I need—" you stammer, and it sounds like your voice is trying to change shape mid-sentence.

You don't even know what you need. Air? Distance? A full personality reset?

The only thing you do know is that you yank your hand away like you've been burned, nerves flaring as if someone lit a match in your throat. You stumble, retreating instinctively like you can outrun the feeling swelling in your chest. But instead of hitting freedom, you hit velvet curtains, and the funhouse-style mirrors suddenly warp around you like you've just entered some alternate dimension of your own panic. Your reflection fractures across twenty different panels, your wide-eyed stare bouncing back at you from every angle. You turn again, deeper into the tunnel, just to stop looking at the kaleidoscope you've become.

"Where you runnin' off to?" Jinx giggles, already following after you like a shadow. There's no guilt in her voice, just delight, as if guiding your hand to her dick five seconds ago was nothing more but a party trick. "Thought you said I wasn't that scary?"

You freeze like a cornered animal. Not out of fear, exactly, more like sensory overload. You don't mean to look as fragile as you do—backed into a cold mirror, shoulders stiff, legs braced like you're trying to fold yourself smaller than your body will allow. You don't even blink, just exist, stunned and half-turned toward the exit like a deer who hasn't figured out yet which way the headlights are coming from.

Her gaze sharpens, studying you the same way someone might do with a startled creature on the road; curious, patient. She slows when she sees the tension in your jaw, her gait losing that teasing spring and transitioning into something steadier.

"Hey." She lifts her hands—open palms and a gentler voice, as if offering a truce. It's a gesture so non-threatening it almost feels out of place on her now. "Didn't mean to actually freak you out, Bambi."

"Bambi?" you echo, tone caught somewhere between incredulous and breathless as your eyes flick to her face.

"Big eyes, wobbly legs," she murmurs, stepping into your space again. Not pouncing or hunting this time, simply drifting closer. "You look like you can't tell if you're turned on or about to have a moral crisis."

"I… might be doing both." The words come out with a shy, lopsided smile—the kind that tugs up only one corner of your mouth before you duck your head, cheeks warming. You glance up through your lashes, sheepish but curious, like you can't quite decide if you should keep meeting her gaze or hide in the safety of your own flustered laugh.

Jinx grins at that, the painted curve of her mouth softening into something less wicked, more human. The tension crackles for a moment longer before it fizzles out between you, replaced by the faint hum of embarrassment and something warmer underneath. "I'm sorry, sugar. I got a little carried away back there." She scoffs at herself, pinching the bridge of her nose with a faint grimace. "Kinda forgot you didn't sign up for… that kind of scare."

You let out a small chuckle, bashful but real. "It's okay. I mean, I did run like hell. You just… caught me off guard."

"Caught you good, though," she teases, then winces like she immediately regrets it. "Sorry—bad timing. I just…" She exhales an exaggerated puff of breath, all the fight leaving her posture as she leans back against one of the mirror panels. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Promise."

The confession is awkward and earnest, but something about saying it aloud—owning it—makes you feel lighter already. "I'm still here," you point out, almost like a peace offering, your shame retreating. "And… maybe kind of hoping you'll keep looking at me like that?"

That gets her. Her shoulders roll back in slow ease, and whatever twitchy impulse had been buzzing in her limbs moments ago smooths right out. The predator coils itself quiet, and she watches you like you're something precious she doesn't want to break too soon. She closes the remaining space between you, nosing lazily along your cheekbone, almost catlike but tentative in her affection now.

"Tell me to stop," she murmurs against your skin, "or I'm gonna take that look in your eyes real personally." And then—only after you shiver—does she shift her weight. She presses her hips forward, just enough for you to feel her bulge again, unmistakable as it settles flush against your pelvis. She fits obscenely well there, grinding into the soft spot below your belly with aching hesitation, like she's nudging a boundary, checking how much room you'll allow her to ruin you.

You flinch, but not away this time. It's a soft, involuntary twitch—the ghost of an old instinct that doesn't quite make it all the way through. Your body starts to remember that it doesn't have to defend itself here. That maybe, for once, it can just be. You let yourself breathe, and something deep inside your chest uncoils, like a muscle finally realizing it's allowed to rest.

"Let's try that again," she suggests, nosing lower now, right into the crook of your neck where your scent hits the strongest. Her mouth parts against your skin—warm breath, chapped lips, the barest scrape of teeth. And then her tongue finds the spot just under your ear, tasting salty skin as if it's the best thing she's had all night. You quiver under her with a soft moan, heartbeat fluttering hard enough for her to feel it. One hand skims down your spine, slow and deliberate, fingertips dragging over every vertebra like she's mapping out your bones. She doesn't stop when she reaches the curve of your ass, just grabs a handful and squeezes possessively. "You like that better?"

You nod, biting your lip so hard it stings, as if that'll keep the sounds in—but your hips roll forward without permission, meeting the pressure she's so generously offering. It feels strange at first, this surrender. But it's a good kind of strange—like sunlight after weeks of rain. You let it wash over you. You let yourself melt.

"There we go," she purrs. "You just needed a minute, hm?"

You've always told yourself you're not that kind of girl.

You don't sneak off with strangers. You don't drool over someone you met five minutes ago because they smell like bubblegum and trouble and press a cock against you. You don't get wet from a smirk and a little pressure. That's not who you are.

Except suddenly, it is.

Because you can't stop imagining it. The corrupted sound she'd make when your lips wrap around her, soft at first, then needier. The way she'd grip your hair when she realizes you mean it—every filthy thing you're pretending not to want.

You want to be good for her. Just for her. You want to let her rut against your tongue in the dark while fake screams echo down the maze and some animatronic goes off two rooms over like it's cheering you on. You want to make her shudder, to feel her get twitchy and desperate because of you.

And yeah, maybe it's disgusting. Maybe it's reckless. Maybe you'll hate yourself for it later.

But maybe you'll hate yourself worse if you walk away now.

Because the truth is: you are that kind of girl. Right here, right now, with her? You are. Your mind flatlined the second you spotted her. No more thoughts, just heat, slick need, and that awful, humiliating ache between your legs that says: I want it. I want it. I want it.

"What about the cameras?" you blurt out, almost too fast, like you're still hoping someone will talk you out of this even as you press your chest against hers, chasing more. "We're in a public maze and–"

"They don't work in here," Jinx cuts in, calm and collected. "Dead zone. Security guy gets nauseous from all the reflections. Can't watch the feed without puking. So they just… don't." She leans closer, like she's telling you a secret. "We call it the blackout spot."

You don't know if that's true, but you want it to be. Especially with how her hand presses into your lower back now, keeping you locked tight against her cock.

And maybe you want to be seen, after all.

Even if only by her.

"I can be real sweet on you," she murmurs against your throat, sucking a mark into the tender skin just above your collarbone. "So good. So fucking careful. You want that?"

You make a sound—high and pathetic, caught somewhere between a whimper and a disbelieving laugh. You nod so fast you get dizzy, and you barely have time to blink before your mouth claims hers. It's not rough, but it burns. Hot, deep, filthy in a way that pulls the air out of your lungs and replaces it with her. She groans, reciprocating just as eagerly. Her tongue slips in without asking, slick and shameless, licking into you like she wants to memorize the shape of your throat from the inside out. You don't even realize you're gripping onto her forearms until she shifts—pressing in, teeth nipping your lower lip—and you dig in like you're clinging to gravity itself. There's more spit than you expect, stringing between your lips when she pulls back, only for you to come right back in like you can't be away from her for more than a second.

And that makeup you were admiring on her earlier? It's yours now.

The heavy white cream from her foundation clings to your cheeks in thick, uneven patches. Her lipstick has bled into a dark, glossy halo around your mouth, transferring from her painted-on smile. You can feel it melting into your skin, every touch blurring the lines between you until you can't tell who the color belongs to anymore. She pulls away just enough to admire you like you're her personal canvas. Her thumb grazes your chin before dragging it down, smearing the mess even more. Your knees buckle slightly—not enough to fall, just enough for her to notice.

"Wanna get on them for me?" she asks softly, holding you in place as her breath brushes your swollen lips. "Bet I'd look real pretty in your mouth."

The words aren't an actual request. They're a command wrapped in a coo, sticky-sweet like a candy apple, and you're already sinking to the cold floor before your brain catches up. Jinx looms above you, the weight of her presence blotting everything else.

"Good girl,” she purrs, unbuckling her belt with intent, as if the game's finally paying off.

The words hit you low. You don't even know if you've earned them yet, but the way she says it makes your pussy clench around nothing. Your mouth goes dry. Or maybe wetter. It's hard to tell because your body's already two steps ahead, tipping forward, greedy and off-balance. You brace your hands on her hips, keeping yourself from swaying, from reaching up and taking it out yourself. She tugs down the waistband of her striped pants just enough, thumbs hooking under the elastic, and her cock springs free like it's just as eager to perform, balls tight and heavy.

It's… a lot.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't expecting it, but seeing it up close, thick and flushed? It's a whole different experience. She fists herself once, dragging her palm over the curved and veined length with a low hiss through her teeth. Her cock jumps in her grip, twitching when she looks down and catches your wide-eyed stare. She guides it toward you, letting the pink tip slide across your lips, smearing salty precum like gloss. She taps your cheek with it—mocking, almost playful. You can smell her now, too: skin, sweat, the tang of arousal.

Her breath is shaky as she watches you open up for her, warm and obedient, tongue flattening under the head like you're starving. She presses in slow, feeding you more inch by inch, letting you get used to the size. Your mouth stretches around her, and you moan as she slides deeper.

"That's it," she coaxes, voice low and hoarse. Her hand finds the back of your head, not pushing, just resting. "Take it for me."

You gag once she hits the back of your throat, but she coos immediately, petting your hair soothingly.

"Breathe through it. You're doin' so good," she pants, thrusting again just a little rougher to test your limits. "You're perfect, y'know that? Knew you'd have a mouth on you."

You nod, or try to—mouth still full of cock, throat raw, spit bubbling at the corners of your lips as you look up at her, teary-eyed. She pulls out halfway just to fuck it back in smoother, making you feel every drag as you hollow your cheeks, hand wrapping around what you can't take and working in tandem. You whine around her, sucking harder, head bobbing now—sloppier, more desperate. You feel drunk on her, and it shows in the way your thighs keep shifting and rubbing together for any sort of friction. You feel so empty it hurts, soaking through your underwear, every part of you aching for something to take and grind against. Your cunt throbs with every push of her hips, like your body's confused why she's not inside instead.

You love it.

You love her.

Or at least, you're in love with her dick—because how else do you explain this? The fluttering in your stomach, the way you could cry if she stopped now…

Which is exactly what she does.

Jinx lets out a shaky breath and pulls out with a wet pop, watching you chase after her, whiny and dazed.

"What are you doing?" you ask, throat slick with her taste. Your lips are swollen, your breath is gone, but you still crawl forward, knees sore from the hard floor as you lean in impatiently, taking her again without waiting for a reply.

"F-fuck, wait—" She groans, her grip on your hair faltering, like she can't decide whether to pull you closer or drag you off. You hum around her, swallow even deeper. She curses once more, eyes fluttering for a second too long before jerking her hips back with finality. You gasp, brows pinching in frustration as your mouth empties again. "I know, greedy girl," she coos, cupping your face gently, stilling you. "But I'm not gonna waste it. Not when that sweet pussy's clearly begging for it."

She helps you up, and you barely find your balance before she grabs your hips and spins you around, pressing your tits against the cool glass, your quick breaths fogging up your own reflection. She tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees, one swift move. The cold air hits your dripping cunt and you flinch, shivering as she cups your ass and spreads you open just enough to look.

She whistles, low and impressed. "Fuck, baby, I knew it. Look at that."

And you do. She makes sure of it—her fingers curl tight under your jaw, tilting your head forward until you're eye-to-eye with yourself, blinking through the haze. You look wrecked and untouched all at once, like a horror movie virgin five minutes before the kill.

"This what you look like when you're about to get fucked?" she hums into your ear. "Eager and filthy?"

The fat head of her cock nudges your entrance and your whole body tightens, forehead hitting the flat surface before you. She slides it down your slit once, twice—coating herself in your slick—and then presses in slowly until your cunt starts to give. She's thick, and it's tight, and you're so wet it should slide easily, but it still burns.

"Shit—" you gasp, voice high and broken.

"Shhh." Her hand covers your mouth before the rest of the sound escapes, muffling it. "Gotta be quiet for me now, pretty girl. You don't want anyone hearing, do ya?"

She keeps pushing in, letting you feel every ridge, every twitch, and you whimper brokenly when she bottoms out. Her hips are flush to your ass, and she's buried so deep it feels like she's poking behind your ribs. She stays there for a second, allowing you to adjust, your legs already shaking from the stretch.

Then she pulls out halfway. Pushes back in.

Again.

And again.

You bite back a moan with each stroke, the slick sound of your cunt taking her bouncing off the mirrors like echoes from a porn set. She builds a rhythm, working you open, cock pulling out coated and sliding back in easier each time, like you're sucking her back in. Her free hand settles over your lower stomach, right above where she's pressing in, feeling the bulge from the outside.

She picks up the pace—a little faster, harder—just enough to make your body bounce with every thrust and tears brim at your lashes. "Look," she pants into your ear, her breath hitting the back of your neck in hot and sticky puffs, blue hair damp at her nape. "Look at yourself. Look how pretty you are while takin' me. How full."

The sight ruins you.

Your reflection is a pornographic mess, and you can't help but groan right into her palm, eyes rolling to the back of your head as her cock disappears into you over and over again. You try to keep quiet, but it's getting harder to control when she keeps punching that sweet spot deep inside you that makes your knees lock and voice rise in pitch. You fumble for purchase, leaving streaks and handprints on the mirror, and she pulls her hand away just enough for you catch a proper breath.

"Jinx—fuck, s’too much! I can't—"

"You can. You already are," she whispers into your neck, lips grazing the sweat building up there. "Don't go floatin' away on me now. Stay right there."

Her arms wind around your waist, locking you tight against her, using you as leverage just to fuck deeper into you. The wet slap of skin on skin is indecent, and you can feel her twitching every time you pulse around her, nearing your release.

"Can you be good for me? Can you come without screaming?"

You moan something unintelligible in response, eyes glossy and barely able to stay open. Your cunt grips around her like it's trying to keep her there, suck her in deeper, milk her dry. She's relentless now, each thrust perfectly aimed at a cruel angle, her pace bordering on overwhelming. One of her hands drops lower, fingers brushing your clit with a featherlight stroke, yet you jolt like you've been shocked nonetheless. She adds more pressure, circling it with practiced ease, knowing exactly which buttons to push to make your knees go weak.

The sudden extra stimulation makes your whole body seize up, and your orgasm hits too abruptly. You clench around her hard, heat flooding your limbs in a wave so intense it nearly knocks you off your feet. Your moan—sharp, ragged, impossible to hide—bubbles up before you can stop it.

Jinx is faster.

She slaps her palm back over your mouth just as you cry out, your release ripping through you like a live wire. Her grip only tightens, holding you upright and steady through the quake while you soak her. "Easy," she murmurs into your ear, thrusts going lazy. "Ride it out f'me."

You're still twitching from the aftershocks when you hear it.

Footsteps—a group, from the sound of it—sneakers dragging, giggles ringing, someone muttering "this part's lame" like they're trying to be tough.

You panic.

She doesn't.

"Don't. Move," she simply whispers, voice barely audible yet thrilled. You freeze, trembling in her hold, trying to melt into her chest like that'll make you disappear. Her hand stays over your mouth, fingers pressing gently at the corners, keeping you muffled. You can feel her deep inside you, cock throbbing with how hard she still is, keeping you full, like she doesn't intend on pulling out until you've taken everything she's planned on giving you. "They won't see. They'll be gone in a second," she promises, even as her own hips rock forward once, grinding the head into the spot that just ruined you.

You squeal against her hand, the overstimulation making your toes curl so hard inside your shoes they almost cramp. The footsteps pass, the voices fade, and once silence settles again—if you can call the frantic panting between you silence—Jinx takes it as her cue. She pulls back an inch, testing just enough to break the messy seal, then pushes back in slowly, like she's feeling you all over again.

"God, you feel… You feel unreal," she gasps, her forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder. Her hand is forgotten as she lets it fall from your mouth, too lost in the sensations. "Warm little cunt milking it like she knows me already." Her pace picks up, sloppier now, and she starts to pulse inside you, her body winding tight with that final edge. "Gonna pull out, I swear. Just… Just gimme a second—"

But the words splinter something in you. Your hand shoots back blindly, gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. A whimper tears from your throat as you shove yourself back onto her, keeping her fully sheathed. "Don't!" you sob in a frenzy, trembling from the pressure, practically writhing on her. "Don't pull out. Want all of it. Please."

She groans low in her throat like it hurts to hear you say it that sweet, that desperate. "You sure?" she breathes, the husky tone nearly making your knees buckle. "You really want me to fill you up? Fuck it all into you, just like that? You're not just sayin' that 'cause your brain's gone all fuzzy, right?"

You nod so fast you get lightheaded, but she tuts quietly.

"Words, baby."

"Yes," you choke. "Yes, I want it. Please, Jinx, I need you to come in me. I'll take it, I can—"

And that's it. That's all it takes for her restraint to crumble like a wet tissue. You don't even get a warning—her hips jerk forward, knocking the air from your lungs as she buries herself to the hilt and stays there, cock twitching deep as she spills inside you with a ragged groan. You feel every hot spurt pouring into you, every twitch against your oversensitive walls, and the sudden fullness has you sobbing into the mirror, mouth open in a silent moan.

She doesn't move right away, just keeps grinding through her own aftershocks with faint and needy sounds that she probably doesn't even realize she's making, folded over you like a backpack. Slowly, she shifts, easing back, her breath stuttering as she begins to slip free—too soon, too slow, dragging every thick inch from your fluttering, overstretched pussy. You can't help but whimper at the loss, a gush of warmth following instantly. You clench down hard, reflexive but useless, and she steps back just far enough to look.

And oh, she looks.

You're still bent over, slumped over against the mirror, with her cum dripping out of your hole and straight down your thighs in thick and creamy trails, catching the low light. Her eyes glaze over with something akin to awe, but you feel too boneless to care about how filthy you must look.

"I should take a picture," she chuckles breathlessly, her nose dragging up the dip of your spine. "Frame it. Hang it above my bed." Her voice is warm and teasing, but barely holding together, thinning. "First time I ever came in a stranger and nearly passed the fuck out." She presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, and you feel her grin against your cooling skin—crooked, high on the moment. One hand slips down again, cupping your heat tenderly, fingers sinking into the slick mess you both made and spreading it gently over your swollen folds. "I got you. You're okay."

But her voice cracks halfway through, throat tight with something that isn't just exhaustion. Because she is not okay, either. Her thighs are shaking, too, and her cock's still half-hard and soaked, twitching with leftover need. She exhales like she's trying to catch up to her own heartbeat and anchor herself.

A pause. Then, another kiss, softer this time—like a wordless thank you.

Jinx reaches down, catching the waistband of your panties and the rumpled pants still bunched around your knees. She tugs them up carefully, fabric sliding up your thighs. Your damp underwear presses flush against you, trapping her cum inside you, making you shiver. There's something undeniably possessive in the way she does it. Like she wants it to stay there. Like it means something to let you walk out of here full of her.

"There," she murmurs, adjusting the cotton so it fits more snugly around your hips. "All tucked in." She awkwardly maneuvers your jeans over your ass, keeping one arm curled loosely around your waist to steady you both. It's not graceful, it's not clean, but it's all she can manage—and it's done with so much care it nearly makes your head swim.

You let her do it, legs weak and whole body aching in that delicious, used-up kind of way. The mirror reflects all the damage: smeared makeup, glazed eyes, sweat-shined skin, and her hand still planted over your stomach like she's staking a claim. She finishes with a little pat to your hip, proud of herself.

"You coming back next weekend?" she asks, voice still rough, still a little fucked-out and smug, maybe even hopeful as she tucks herself away.

"I always knew clowns were needy." You scoff through a smile, tugging up your zipper.

"Only for the ones who whimper like that," she shoots back, her grin turning toothy as she leans her chin on your shoulder, too annoyingly sweet for someone who just rearranged your insides. You're still shaking, limbs jelly-like and sore, skin buzzing from her kisses, but she doesn't seem in any hurry to let you go as she giggles. "Such a Bambi."

"Don't start," you groan, swatting weakly at her chest. She catches your hand and holds it there, threading her fingers through yours.

"I mean it," she says after a beat, her tone quieter now. "I want to see you again."

You blink at her, still hazy, still dazed in a way that doesn't feel fully physical anymore.

She nudges her nose against your cheek. "Gimme your phone. I wanna make sure you don't ghost me."

You roll your eyes, fishing it out of your pocket anyway, your body heavy with endorphins. You unlock it and hand it over without a word. She doesn't hesitate—just swipes open your contacts, thumbs moving fast and messy, nails tapping against the screen. The faint blue glow lights up her face, highlighting the smudges of face paint, the curve of her smile. You hear the faint click of her taking a photo with the front camera—probably for the contact image—and then the chirp of her own phone going off somewhere in her pocket.

"There. Now it's official."

Outside, the park is thinning, and the October air is colder than you remember, sobering you up. A kid screams somewhere far off in the distance, either from fear or too much sugar. Probably both. The fog machines have shut off, and the speakers are spitting out staticky ambient horror noise that no one's really listening to anymore. You walk toward the exit in silence, trying not to limp, trying not to think about the handprint on your thigh or how much lipstick is still on your face. You're almost out when your phone buzzes.

💬 clown girl 🤡

i'll get you a plan b <3

You stare at it for a second. You don't even remember telling her if you were on the pill or not. You huff a short laugh through your nose, then tuck your phone away, looking up just in time to catch her fading form.

She's walking backward now, facing you as she retreats into The Funhouse again. "Text me when you get home, Bambi!" she calls, throwing up a casual peace sign, fingers still faintly sticky with what had happened. "Don't make me haunt you!"

Romantic.

  ✦   posters of you fill her walls from top to bottom. is it excessive? without question. bordering on psychotic? well, who’s to say. and her sister likes to tease, “do you give them each a kiss goodnight?”—which jinx finds insulting and ridiculous. of course she doesn’t kiss paper printouts of you! she’s far past that point in her life—no, she saves her slippery, wet tongue kisses for your body pillow; the one silk-screened with your face and your figure, immortalized in polyester, wearing a tattered gown from a period drama you did a few years back.

    ✦    as a matter of fact, jinx reserves all her special love and adoration for your body pillow; pulling up press junkets of you on youtube, then grinding her cunt against your two-dimensional breasts, your lips, your nose, that small misprinted smudge on your chin as a result of factory mass production, and cooing about how you’re being such a good girl for her. but unfortunately, [pillow] you bears the brunt of her zeal, because too much fucking against the synthetic fibers of your printed, inky face has weathered and stained your image with jinx’s pussy juices.

   ✦   has full-blown rambling conversations with [pillow] you, sharing stories from her childhood, airing grievances about how intolerable her sister and fiancé are, asking what you’d like to eat for dinner—pancakes again? pizza?—and it’s ok when you don’t respond. as an actress, you have to rest your vocal chords, keep them supple for your job. jinxie understands! besides, she’s clever enough to decipher the difference between when you’re listening and when you’re ignoring her as a form of punishment.

   ✦   tracks your whereabouts via your social media activity. one weekend you’re vacationing in greece, then a few days later you’re smiling dutifully at some fan signing in new york—but the details don’t quite align, because the tan lines you got in mykonos have seemingly vanished overnight. jinx finds herself circling the problem like a dog worrying at a bone, until she comes to the realization that your posts are pre-made, stockpiled. which is to say, you’re elsewhere by now and jinx has no way of knowing. god, it makes her feel sick.

   ✦   speaking of social media, she masturbates to your instagram posts without remorse. specifically, that swimsuit ad you did last spring really gets her going—which could be seen as predatory or a crude form of objectification if it were anyone else, but it’s jinx. she loves you, and in love everything is permitted, right? your body, as far as she’s concerned, already belongs to her. and her ownership over you is further solidified after one incident in particular; while jinx is rubbing her tiny, erect clit, whining, “unghh, mmm, mmm,” around her lolling tongue, she abruptly orgasms—squirting for the first time in her life. wetness splashes across her phone, trailing down the image of your half-bare body, until you’re streaked with cum and she has thoroughly, satisfactorily defiled you—claimed you.

   ✦   which leads jinx to stumble upon a subreddit dedicated to celebrity cum tributes. mostly men, mostly anonymous, jerking off to popstars, trading conspiracies about how slutty each one secretly is, conversations about how ravenous they must be in bed. as a result, jinx feels uncharacteristically cowardice and can’t bring herself to search your name. the thought of anyone else getting off to your body, coating your face in their load, feels torturous, fills her with violent jealousy. she knows she’d do something rash, end up IP-banned (not for the first time).

    ✦    doesn’t interact with anyone on the subreddit—just films herself rubbing her pussy to a grainy printout of your face, until the egregious amount of cream dribbling from her hole turns the paper soggy and tattered. jinx leaves little captions, depicting her proclivity, “i made a real mess of her today LOL, def sending this one to her dms!! i hope she doesn’t block me again :(“

(which is no big deal in the grand scheme of things. she can make another account. above all, blocking her is just proof that you knows she exists, and that makes her feel all the more vindicated).

    ✦    harasses you across all platforms, but especially twitter. her fan page has amassed quite a following, proclaiming herself as your number one fan. since she’s such a loyal disciple, the least you could do is acknowledge one of her thousands of messages, maybe? some are innocuous life updates, others grotesque declarations of her love for you. at times, she (almost) sounds sweet, “i was having a bad day but seeing ur face made me feel a lotttt better,” then her next message reads, “always makes me cum so hard, baby <3”

    ✦    more perversely, she sends a barrage of photos to your alleged finsta—close-ups of her bare cunt, cum drooling from her swollen hole; fingers pinching her pink, puffy nipples; blurry selfies of her face mid-orgasm, tongue out with salvia dribbling down her chin. (she just hopes your social media manager doesn’t plan to check your dms anytime soon).

   ✦   in interviews, you scatter hints that jinx is certain are meant for her, as if you’re trying to communicate with her in code. take, for instance, when you said casablanca is your favorite vintage film. (naturally, it’s hers as well! what are the odds?) or when you wore twin braids to a q&a, which happened—“happened”—to look exactly like her own messy plaits. and most obvious of all, the overlap with your castmate, where you said the same word in unison, and you were quick to cry out, “jinx!” and jinx nearly passed away hearing her name so casually spoken from your sweet mouth.

    ✦    utterly devastated when you cheat on her. it’s trending across every social platform, inescapable—you spotted with another woman; a fellow a-list celestial body. jinx shoves her face into her blankets and screams. it must be the fault of your PR team, a silly attempt at publicity for your upcoming movie. or, maybe you’re being coerced, blackmailed. yes, that makes a lot more sense. the only logical reasoning you’d date someone else. oh poor you—don’t worry, jinx will rescue you!

    ✦    takes the job at a late-night talk show on the basis of a single rumor: that you might be an upcoming guest. it turns out to be true because a few weeks later you’re here, with your name printed on a dressing room door, and who would jinx be if she didn’t sneak inside? which is where she finds you, dressed in only your undergarments, bent close to the vanity, dabbing powder onto your face.

you startle, quick to blanket your body in a fluffy, white robe, sending jinx a look that could curdle milk. “what the hell! do they not teach interns the concept of boundaries anymore?”

jinx is fizzing with delight, smiling crazed and creepy, gawping at you like a caged zoo animal. “you look even more beautiful in person,” she blurts.

your eyes roll skyward—so you’ve been told. many, many times. the last thing you want, after a red-eye flight and rehearsing a string of banal questions involving your “upcoming project,” is to indulge an overzealous, stalker super-fan. but in this industry, one learns to make use of what one is given. so, instead of summoning security, you tilt your head and say, ”you owe me an apology for barging in.”

”oh! uh, i’m sorry? very sorry.”

”not like that. actions speak louder than words, don’t they? so come over here and show me how sorry you really are.”