snowychunks

[snowychunks]

5 Hours. Two Coffees. One Girlfriend

inspired by this post. Masterlist

sevika x workaholic!nerd!reader ;; slow burn ;; smut

a/n: my bad if this is too short 😤 and tbh, i’m not a nerd myself, in fact i’m barely passing my subjects 💔 is this okay lunette??

It starts with the scratching of your pen.

The soft but relentless scratch against yet another page of ruled paper, your fingers smudged with blue ink and your highlighters organised like soldiers around a war table, yellow for definitions, pink for formulas, green for those little acronyms you invent to memorise entire essays. There’s a cold mug of coffee on the edge of your desk. You’ve forgotten about it, of course. Because who has time to reheat it when there’s a quiz on Monday and you only scored second-highest on the last one?

Sevika watches you from the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame, her eyes trailing down the curve of your spine as you hunch over your notes like some sleepless gremlin. She’s got a cigarette between her lips. An oversized hoodie thrown on lazily over her tank top. She’s been awake for maybe thirty minutes. while you’ve been awake for… way too fucking long.

“You been up since what, seven?”

You don’t look up. “Four-thirty.”

Sevika whistles low. “Jesus.”

“I needed to redo my calc notes. My vectors were sloppy.”

“You know that’s not a normal sentence, right?”

Still, you don’t stop writing. You’re already flipping to another page, scribbling in little corner diagrams with calculated chaos, and Sevika takes another step forward. You can feel her gaze on you now — lazy, amused, concerned. And something else, something darker and fond and dangerous all at once.

“Baby,” she says, voice dropping an octave. “You haven’t even eaten.”

“I had a protein bar.”

“Half a protein bar. Last night.” Sevika walks in fully now, rounds your desk with the patience of a hunter stalking skittish prey. “And now it’s Sunday. You’ve been glued here since Friday night. You think I didn’t notice?”

You roll your eyes, still not meeting her gaze. “I have exams.”

“You’re gonna die.”

“Dramatic.”

But then suddenly, your chair tilts back. A firm hand wraps under your thighs, the other around your back. You yelp, flailing like a cat scooped off a windowsill as Sevika effortlessly lifts you into her arms.

“Hey, HEY! What the fuck?!”

“Break time.”

“I have notes to finish, Sevika!”

“You’ll live.”

“I have an exam on —”

“I’ll kill it for you.”

“That’s not how college works! Put me down. put me down!”

She only laughs, walking the both of you to the bedroom as you kick and wiggle in her arms, notebook slipping from your fingers and landing somewhere on the floor. You slap her shoulder, thighs squirming in protest.

“You’re such a dick!”

“And you’re a brat,” Sevika mutters, kicking the bedroom door open. “An overworked, stressed out, over caffeinated, tight little brat.”

You jolt. Her voice curls around that last word, low and heated, and your squirming stills.

Sevika lays you down on the bed and grabs your blanket, flipping it around your body with ease. You squeal as she wraps you tight, tucking the ends under you like she’s wrapping up her favorite snack for later. You can’t even move your arms. All you can do is glare at her, nose wrinkled, cheeks hot.

“I swear, I will bite you.”

She leans in and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your cheek.

“Do it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You try to wiggle out of the blanket burrito, but Sevika just presses her weight down next to you, caging you in as her hand slides under your head, fingers combing gently through your hair. Her thumb brushes your temple, soothing. She rests her forehead against yours.

“You don’t gotta kill yourself for this shit, y’know,” she murmurs. “You’re already brilliant.”

You swallow hard, your chest still rising like a cornered animal. But her touch makes it slow. Makes it ache.

“I’m not,” you mumble.

“Mm. Shut up,” she says, lovingly.

You don’t shut up. But your eyes do flutter.

You try to stay still, but you’re warm now. Too warm. Her fingers are still in your hair, and now her lips are on your neck, slow, grazing, gentle at first. Then lower. Then she shifts the blanket down, inch by inch, until your tank top is visible, and then not.

“Hey…”

“Shhh.” Her lips replace her hand. “Lemme take care of you, baby. Let me help you rest.”

“But my notes!”

“You’ll memorise them better after I fuck the stress out of you.”

You gasp, because she never says it like that. Not when you’re like this, wrapped and soft and sleepy. But she’s serious.

Her fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, down beneath the soft cotton of your panties, and you’re already wet. Stupidly, shamefully wet. You try to bury your face into her hoodie, but she grabs your jaw and makes you look at her.

“Look at you. Can’t even relax without me making you.”

Her middle finger slides between your folds, hot and slow and maddening, curling just enough to make your hips jolt.

“Fuck.”

“That’s it. Cry for me. All that stress? Let me fuck it outta you, baby.”

She slides another finger in. Pumps slow. Thumb circling your clit like she’s cranking down the gears on your anxiety, melting it into moans.

Your legs tremble under the blanket, twitching. She chuckles when you whine.

“Sensitive little thing. Your brain’s all overworked. But your pussy’s dumb as hell, huh?”

You nod helplessly. You don’t even try to pretend anymore.

She pins you down with one hand and fucks you slow, dragging it out until you’re begging. Until your hips are grinding against her palm like you need it. Until you’re chanting her name, crying out, undone.

Then, finally when she knows your body’s burning, she leans in and whispers, low:

“Cum for me, nerd.”

You do. Hard. Clamping down on her fingers, thighs twitching, breath caught. And when you open your eyes, Sevika’s already kissing your cheeks again, tucking the blanket back around you. Pressing her hand to your stomach. Holding you.

You fall asleep drooling on her hoodie.

Your notes can wait.

taglist: @sapphicstrawcore @littlelovelunette @sevikaswinkinghole @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sevikas-whore @illbecanon @butchpuppyy @barelykiramman @riotstemple29

[snowychunks]

smut. virgin!reader

“You’ve never…?”

Her voice is velvet, low and almost amused, but not mocking, no, Ada Wong never mocks unless she’s about to ruin you.

You nod from where you’re sitting on the hotel bed, thighs clenched together, hands trembling against the hem of your skirt. The night air is thick with tension, city lights bleeding through cheap blinds. You’d barely kissed anyone before Ada pressed you against the wall earlier. Now she’s standing at the edge of the bed, still dressed like a wet dream in red silk and a holster.

Her smile is criminal.

“You poor thing,” she murmurs, crawling onto the mattress like a slow, sleek predator. “No one’s touched you here before?”

Her hand slides up your inner thigh, knuckles grazing sensitive skin. You choke on a gasp, hips twitching at just that. She doesn’t even reach your panties yet and your body is already flinching like she’s struck a nerve.

Ada notices. Of course she does.

She chuckles under her breath, and her palm presses right between your legs. “Already soaked through.”

You squirm, shame flooding your face. “I-I don’t know why…”

“Shh,” she coos, leaning down until her lips are brushing your jaw. “It’s okay, baby. I’m flattered. You’re just a little needy, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak. She cups you through the fabric, slow and firm, and your hips jerk upward like you’ve been electrocuted. She laughs. It’s quiet and mean and hot enough to make your belly twist.

“Sensitive little thing. Gonna come just like this, aren’t you?”

You shake your head desperately, but Ada slips a finger past the edge of your panties, drags it through your folds like she owns you, and your whole body tightens like a bowstring.

“Oh,” she whispers. “You are.”

She doesn’t even bother with more than one finger, just circles your clit lazily, eyes on your face the entire time. You’re gasping, bucking, your thighs trying to close around her hand but she forces them open.

“Stay still,” she purrs. “You’re mine right now.”

Her finger drags slick and teasing, and you’re panting, crying, overwhelmed. You don’t even realise how fast it’s building until your thighs start to tremble. You’re whining her name, trying to hold on, but it’s so much, it’s too good, and she’s not stopping.

“That’s it,” Ada croons. “Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how easy it is to ruin you.”

You shatter with a scream, back arching, your cunt pulsing so hard it hurts. She doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering, twitching in her grip, eyes glassy and thighs soaked. And even then?

Ada leans in, voice low at your ear —

“…Next time I’ll use my tongue.”

[snowychunks]

main blog: @lonerslug

this is a side blog where i repost my work/ talk to yall, feel free to yap or even request things on this blog!

bisexual, single not ready to mingle, over 18, cis she/her. i write and enjoy smut.

request anything from zoro one piece to sevika arcane!

masterlist

[snowychunks]

Sevika x Brothelworker!reader, where reader accidentally caught feelings for Sevika and after they fucked, reader was cleaning up the mess, they stopped and called out to Sevika and asked her if she wants get on a date sometime(???) but Sevika is too busy w/ cleaning up after Silco's death(can it be both smut and angst🙏🙏)

Stay After

(sevika x brothel worker!reader) angst ;; heartbreak ;; smut masterlist

The room still smelled like her.

Smoke. Leather. Sweat. Sex.

Sevika always left a trace.

You wiped your inner thigh with a hot damp cloth, the softness of it almost insulting after how rough she’d had you, after how you’d begged for it. The sheets were twisted and damp, the pillows kicked to the floor. Her belt was slung over the chair, her shirt tossed near the door, and the last of her cigar burned low in the ashtray by the bedside.

You’d seen this before, this mess. Every time she came in, stormed through your door with the kind of weight behind her shoulders that made your throat tight and your cunt throb, it always ended like this. Fast. Hard. Done.

Until now, it hadn’t meant anything.

You hadn’t let it.

But tonight felt different.

You sat on the edge of the bed, cloth in hand, and stared at her bare back as she dressed, shoulders flexing as she fastened the harness over her chest, jaw clenched like she was somewhere else already. Her hair, still mussed from your hands, hung loose against her back.

God, she looked good like that. Like war and ash and ruin.

You hated how soft you felt.

“…Sevika?”

She paused, boot halfway on, and looked up at you through the mirror over the dresser.

You swallowed. “Do you�� wanna go on a date sometime…?” your voice trailed off.

It fell out. So fast you almost didn’t realise you’d said it. You tried to play it casual, but the room felt too raw, too real. Her scent was still on your tongue. Your thighs still trembled from her hands. And now you were asking her out?

Fucking idiot.

Sevika didn’t move for a second. Just stared at you, unreadable.

Then, slowly, she finished lacing her boot, stood, and grabbed her cigar stub, relighting it with a casual flick of her lighter. The flame flashed against the silver of her mechanical arm. Smoke curled through the room, soft and silent like fog.

“You know I can’t,” she said finally, voice like gravel.

Not even an apology.

Just a fact.

You let out a soft breath. Tried to laugh, but it caught in your throat and twisted there.

“because of silco.”

She nodded once, dragging in smoke. “He left a fucking mess. I’m up to my neck in it.”

You stayed quiet. What could you say? You knew the city was a wreck. Knew the brothel only still stood because no one had time to tear it down yet. Piltover was watching. Jinx was unstable. And Sevika, Sevika was trying to keep it all from collapsing.

Still, you looked at her. Really looked.

And she looked at anything but you.

Earlier that Night. Hours Before

The door slammed shut behind her like it always did — loud, final. She didn’t speak when she entered. No kiss, no greeting. Just the weight of her boots crossing the floor, the sound of her coat hitting the chair, the clink of her belt as she threw it down.

You could smell the tension rolling off her. Smoke and whiskey and blood.

“On your knees,” she said, voice low, hard.

You dropped without question.

She was already unbuckling, already dragging the seat back with a loud screech of wood and metal as she sat, legs spread wide. Her chest rose with every breath, tight and uneven. her jaw was clenched like she’d been biting down rage all day.

You crawled toward her.

Her hand wrapped around your hair the second you were close enough, tugging you up between her thighs. She wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. Didn’t want teasing or softness. She just pulled her boxers down, slid the fabric to the side, and shoved your face in.

“Eat,” she muttered. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You moaned as your tongue slipped between her folds, warm and already wet from heat, not arousal, just stress. Frustration. You licked through it like it meant something. Like if you just pleased her enough, she’d look at you the way you wanted her to.

But her hand just tightened in your hair, grinding you harder against her, her hips twitching every time your tongue circled her clit. She didn’t moan. Didn’t praise. Just sat there breathing hard, one hand gripping your scalp, the other resting heavy on the table beside her.

“Fuck,” she growled low, head falling back. “Just like that. Keep going.”

You lapped at her clit like your life depended on it, flattening your tongue, dragging it slow, then flicking harder when her thighs flexed. Your jaw ached. Your eyes watered. She pressed down harder, grinding into your face like she wanted to disappear into it, and you took it. All of it. Let her use you.

When she came, it was silent. Sharp inhale, her legs trembling just barely. You stayed there, lips wrapped around her, sucking her through it, and even when she pushed your head back slightly, you could see how tight her face was, still tense, unsatisfied.

Her release hadn’t helped.

She was still pissed.

Still burning.

You blinked up at her through wet lashes, chin slick, waiting, for what, you didn’t know. Maybe just a moment. Something tender. Something real.

But Sevika was already standing. Already reaching for the harness the workers kept in the nightstand.

“No breaks tonight,” she muttered, already strapping it on. “Turn around.”

You hesitated, just a blink, just a breath.

And she grabbed you by the hips and dragged you across the rug like a toy.

Hands on the floor. Knees already bruising. Face flushed from being smothered.

And then,

“Sev —!”

The strap slammed into you so hard you lost the rest of the word.

No prep. No warning.

Just her anger, buried in your body like it might kill the grief inside her.

She was rough. Brutal. The sound of your skin slapping against hers filled the room as she pounded into you from behind, panting over you, one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other fisting your hip like she needed to anchor herself to you or she’d fly apart.

“You like being used, huh?” she muttered near your ear. “That why you keep crawling back to me?”

You whined, choked on it really. and she fucked you harder in response, not letting up. Her pace didn’t slow. Your hands slipped on the floor, your thighs quivered.

She didn’t care…

Didn’t ask if it was too much. Didn’t stop when your legs buckled.

You came around the strap without meaning to, clenching hard, sobbing into your forearms, and she didn’t even pause. Just kept going, fucking you through it, fucking you past it.

Like you were nothing but a body she could pour her rage into.

And you let her.

Because somewhere, deep down in the softest part of you, you hoped that if you let her have everything, your mouth, your cunt, your silence, maybe she’d come back not just to fuck, but to stay.

But she didn’t kiss you after. She didn’t even kiss you that night.

Didn’t hold you.

Didn’t even take the harness off before walking to the sink and washing her hands.

Now. Back in the Present

“I didn’t mean anything serious,” you said softly, wiping your stomach now, cloth stained with sweat and something else. “Just thought… I don’t know. A drink. Somewhere that isn’t this room.”

Sevika ran a hand through her hair, fingers pausing at her temple like she was trying to press the headache out. She sighed, deep and slow. “You don’t wanna get mixed up with me.”

You laughed, bitter and low. “Too late.”

That got her to look at you.

You were still naked, sitting in a tangle of sheets and regrets. She looked at you like she didn’t know what to say, and Sevika always knew what to say. To clients. To Silco. To enforcers. To Jinx. To the whole damn Undercity.

But not to you. Not to that request you just asked her.

You stood, tossing the rag into the hamper and reaching for your robe. The silence was sharp now. Final.

“Don’t worry about it,” you muttered. “Go play clean up for the man.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out that cruel.

But Sevika just nodded, slow and heavy, like she knew she deserved it.

“…Thanks for the good time,” she said, softer than usual.

She hadn’t called you by your name.

Not even now. Not since she came into that room today.

And somehow, that stung worse than a slap.

She’d been coming in more lately. sometimes two times a day.

Sometimes she didn’t even say a word. Just gave the madam a look, paid more than she needs to and you’d wordlessly lock the door behind her.

She’d fuck you up against the wall, or over the dresser, or sometimes on the edge of the bed like she couldn’t even wait for you to lie down properly. And you let her. Every time.

Sometimes she pulled your hair. Sometimes she bit your neck so hard you bruised for days.

But most of the time, she didn’t say anything at all.

Tonight was just another night.

She came in smelling like smoke and wet stone. Rain in her hair, blood on her boots. You were already in bed, legs curled under you, pretending to read. You didn’t look surprised when the door opened. You didn’t smile.

You just got up.

You stripped without being asked. Let her unzip her pants with one hand while the other reached for your wrist. She pulled you onto her lap like a rag doll, her strap already firm between her thighs, and you didn’t even flinch when she pushed inside.

She was rough, like always. Hands on your hips, dragging you up and down over her cock like she needed it. Her breath was hot against your collarbone. Her grunts short, sharp, pained.

She kept her face buried in your neck, like if she didn’t look at you, it wouldn’t count.

But this time, this time was different.

You weren’t moaning.

You weren’t whispering how good it felt. You didn’t claw at her shoulders or beg her for more. You didn’t move your hips to match hers or kiss her when she leaned in.

You just… took it.

Your body moved, sure. Out of habit. Out of memory. But your face stayed blank. Your lips were sealed. The only sound you made was your breath hitching, and the quiet, trembling sniff you couldn’t hide.

Sevika stilled.

Pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing as she looked at you in the low light.

Your eyes were full of tears.

You weren’t sobbing. You weren’t falling apart. You looked like a painting. A cracked mask. Lips pressed shut. Brow furrowed. Silent, steady tears slipping down your cheeks like something had quietly broken inside you and never made a sound.

“…Hey.”

Her voice was low. Rough. Not exactly concerned. But not cruel either.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked at her and all she saw staring back was something hollow. Not a whore. Not a warm body to bury into. Not a pair of lips that’d call her “baby” or “boss” or whisper, “Sevika, I missed you.”

You weren’t even there anymore.

Just a quiet, aching shell of the girl who once dared to ask her for a date.

Sevika blinked, like she couldn’t process it. Her hands faltered on your hips, but she didn’t pull out. Just sat there, cock still buried inside you, your tears still falling.

“I’m fine,” you said finally. Your voice was hoarse. Barely a whisper. “You — you can finish.”

Her jaw clenched.

But she didn’t stop.

She wrapped her arms around your back again, lifted her hips, and fucked up into you, slow at first, then harder, like she thought maybe she could fuck the silence out of you. Maybe if she just gave it right, you’d cry the way you used to, moaning, breathless, breaking apart for her.

But you didn’t.

You cried quietly. Face pressed into her neck. Hands limp at your sides.

Your body responded, barely. You came on her cock like it didn’t mean anything. No trembling thighs. No gasps. Just a sigh, another broken breath. And she felt it, felt you clench, felt you twitch.

But she didn’t say a word.

Afterwards, she pulled out, wiped her strap down with your bedsheet, and stood. She didn’t ask how you were. Didn’t tell you to get some sleep. Didn’t meet your eyes.

Just muttered, “I’ll be back later this week,” and pulled her coat on.

The door shut behind her like always.

And you sank to the floor like your bones had given up. and cried.

↪️ reblogs are appreciated!!

a/n: was this too harsh and not sevika-like?

taglist: @sapphicstrawcore @shxdy0ariia @riotstemple29 @littlelovelunette @georgiahs-stuff @illbecanon @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sevikas-whore @barelykiramman @butchpuppyy