Synopsis: Some days you resented your job; you were a defense attorney and you knew the name irked others to stray away from you outside of the court. But your initial hatred turned into something dangerous when you first met her, your new client and accused defendant, Sevika, who after learning more about, you realise trouble followed her like a ghost haunting the premises.
Cw: Lawyer!F!reader x defendant!Sevika, angst, fluff, smut, murder, violence, lying, blood, decisiveness, Readerās nickname is āeagleā (legal eagle), mentions of gangs, slow burn, forbidden love, content warning will change with each chapter, legal!assistant!Vi, Private investigator!Caitlyn, Prosecutor!Jayce, Witness!Jinx, personal!driver!ran, Judge!Ambessa, ex Detective!Grayson, substance abuse, alcoholism, addictions mentioned, etc.
A/N: letās pretend I didnāt drag tf out of ts
Wc: 4.0k
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āGuilty until I prove you innocent.ā
You knew being a defense attorney had its reputation, and given the way your family stared at you sometimes in the midst of a case you took willingly, it wasnāt anything short of desolating.
You defended those accused of crimes others grimaced at, defended those who had no protection in rumours that you had no problem dismissing.
Your ease with the job is what left others tremulous. You were well-known, an infamous title strung together by belligerent actuality and an encroaching presence of poignantness divided by the stands of court-observers and fractured families. It left others gauging the plausible possibility they had of winning when they were against you, which when they rounded up the numbers, was little to none.
You werenāt in it for the money like othersāwhere their talk was backed up with the image of expensive Rolexes and leathered jackets awaiting them on the other side of the jury, yours was all about your client; the defendant and the accusation that separated you from the upholding verdict.
But when you met her? Suddenly every motive you had changed like a bullet in a barrel, switching between live and blank constantly as you stirred the rules of the courtroom far beyond what was considered even legal.
On that day, it was all the same to you; the same flock of birds soaring into the air past the skyscraper with practised punctuality, the same expensive, ritzy, and as you liked to call them, ostentatious, cars rolled up by fellow-lawyers that never seemed to make idle chit-chat with you no matter how much they loitered in the bustling, infested with confluence, blinding hallways of the courtroomāones who, nevertheless, were all in acknowledgement of your presence.
And those same spurring flash of cameras that cruelly bestowed by the tips of your heels the second you walked into the lobby of your office. Suited with microphones, cameras, and jarring high-pitched voices; journalists, reporters, a cacophony of media-trained people. You despised them; you always have. The conundrum you faced made it exacerbated; anyone who knew the press knew you couldnāt escape their clutches once eye contact had been made, and given the fact their utters became more frequent and adjacent; you knew they were audacious when they jostled a microphone into your face, a flare of light blinding you for just a couple of seconds.
The camera zoomed in with a distinct archaic glitch, a man to the left, holding fulgurous lights next to the lady with an unsightly bob-cut, shoving the microphone into your face with abysmal breath. A minacious moue took its turn on your face. Their questions echoed jarringly into the depths of your ears; fluorescent flashes narrowed your eyes, and you felt your body growing torrid with these overdoing-inapplicable brutes.
āThe press would like to hear your response about letting a potential murderer roam free with the ānot guiltyā verdict.ā
You swivelled your head in the direction of the camera, an unnerving manner others deemed was āuncannyāwith the penetrating, piercing lock of your gaze marking a ghost stunted into the spot, an unforeseen sight suddenly revealed. You relaxed your shoulders just an inch, fingers tightening your tie that felt too loose in the eye of the public, while your head, stuck like an oscillating turret tilting its gaze onto a target, never strayed from the camera.
āWe are grateful justice is stored.ā Your voice held its firm, stern tone that never wavered once in these interviews. It was almost impressive, an art you had mastered down to the T. āNo further questions during this time, thank you.ā You moved past the orbs of flashing lights, and pushed past the wooden-double doors that cracked like a twig under foreboding pressure, the surface a granular material that was reflective in all its lustrousness.
The doors closed on your way in with a subtle āclickā, alerting your close-knit assistant, Vi, of your presence. Vi herself was like a honey you couldnāt quite get rid off once it stuck to youāwhen you first met her, she was a lone, uncaged wolf, a member who avoided collaboration and wrapped up loose ends at the bar until you met her, and from there, with little convincing, threaded her to a front-desk that was a little too clattered for your liking.
āVi I thought you had the press covered, why are they all over my office?ā You gestured vaguely behind you, a string of annoyance settling its claws into you.
She raised her eyebrows, creasing the skin between and barely looked up from the documents scattered on her desk, flicking through the pages as if it was more important than the conversation you were upholding with her.
āYou have bigger problems than the press.ā Accumulating the papers into one neat and stacked pile, she stood up with the Manila folder in her hands, extending an arm as you took it feverishly.
āWhat is this?ā Each flicker only made you more perplexed as you took in the vague details on the sheet. For her claiming these were files, they lacked critical information that were properly professionally formed.
Vi mustāve, with little to clearly no effort, scribbled down this barely-put together case.
āWellā¦a new client. For free.ā She qualified, shoes snapping like fire across the chantilly-beige flooring, meeting you on the other side of her desk with her nails tapping against it.
āFor free?ā You glanced up with a furrowed eyebrow, snapping the folder shut as that string of annoyance deluged into a wave of exasperation.
āOh come on, you always say itās ānot for the moneyā.ā Her fingers used quotation-marks just in front of her, a sentiment that left your eyebrows knitted.
āYeah well I still have bills to pay. And this folder isā¦concerningāIām sorry but where did you get this case from again?ā You pressed, moving further into your office where low-dim lights outcasted shadows from the curtains that always seemed to be closed in your office.
āI met her myself.ā You heard the sheepishness in her tone, making you pause and pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.
āYou met her? Well, if you met every single person that needed help Iād be having a trial every two minutes, Vi.ā You were beyond exasperated at this pointāI mean with Vi you never really knew what was going through this girlās mind. You had no idea how you stumbled upon such an intellectual assistant who was in her own world half the time.
āI know I know but she seemed special, okay? And you seemā¦really agitated today.ā You were starting to question her definition of āspecialā. The only thing you found even a remote spark of special in it was late-night takeawayās in the office with her and rigid, acrid coffee.
āSpecial?ā You snorted, deciding to ignore her last comment while chucking the file onto your desk without another second-glance at it. āAnd how special is she? Charged with murder? Manslaughter? One of the biggest heists you've ever seen?ā
āWell, youād know if you actually read her file, or, when you see her innnā¦ā She glanced at the Rolex adorning her wrist, and smiled mischievously. āTen minutes.ā
Your eyes closed and your lips parted to let out a breath you seemed to be holding for the entirety of this baffling conversation. This was just perfect. First the absence of your morning coffee due to the fact you had been abruptly called into trial with one of your defendants, so your energy right now was plummeting, and now this?
āThanks Vi, really.ā
You watched her dismissively wave you away, turning on her heels to close your office door behind without hesitation.
But the ten minutes of going over cases dragged on like quicksand eating at your body until a knock finally sounded against your door. As vibrant as ever, despite the earlier conversation, Vi stood again, bursting the hinges of the doors open while giving you an expectant look.
āYour new client is here.ā She hummed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door with quivering lips, which you could only imagine was her not trying to smile widely at your demise.
āBring her in.ā You eased your pen into a rhythmical tapping against the table, though your grip faltered when your client finally came in.
It was like some of the air had stopped in your throat, clamming the airway, making you cough into your hand at the sudden fluctuation of oxygen she managed to pull out of youāurging you to sit straighter while your grasp on the pen increased into a suffocating grip.
She was one beefy woman, that was for sure. Whatever she had done, or, in your case, been accused of, you could conclude she used those exact muscles that pulsed with every movement to do so. Her presence took up the entire roomālike mist spacing out between the waterfall of emotions you were suddenly feeling.
Brown, clipped hair, almost as clipped as those grey eyes landing sharply on your stature, rested across her shoulders like a blanket trying to wrap around a tank. And back to the steel swell of her eyesā¦they were like pools of libraries that held pre-historic knowledge that was chambered shut, the type to not lose her countenance no matter the snag.
You stood up abruptly, instinctively buttoning your blazer as you took in her statue that was clearly bigger than thought itself. She was imposing; but you had dealt with more unsightly intimidating clients than herāyet something about her made your brain tick differently this time, a looming question that even the dust felt.
āYou must be Sevika.ā Making your way around your desk, you extended your arm in greeting where her own palm absorbed yours entirely. Your eyes widened at the hand clasped around yours, but quickly composed yourself as you took a step back, retiring your arm back by your side. You made a note of the metallic scent making up her clawed left hand, giving the prosthetic arm a shattered glance of acknowledgment.
āThatās me.ā She grunted out, the smell of smoke wafting into the air made you give her a once-over at her preferred outfit; slacks and a top that was taut like tape against her hefty muscles.
āI just got your file so excuse me if I donāt recall correctlyā¦ā you looked at the glower in her eyes, and you cursed Vi in your head for this unforeseen situation. āJust take a seat, itās okay.ā
You sat back down into the chair where it clinked with a satisfying sound of rolling as you pushed yourself back against your desk, brushing through her file again as her own chair squeaked as she sat down.
āSevikaā¦accused of theft, assault and murder.ā You looked up at her past the paper with knitted eyebrows. āThatās a lot of charges.ā Heavy charges. Ones that were sure to take up your already-packed schedule.
Closing the file and leaving it neatly on top of stacked-papers, you rested your elbows atop of the table. You couldnāt figure out the look in her eyes. It was as if she was scrutinising every sudden movement you made as if she was the lawyer, not you.
āIt is. And I didnāt do a single one of them,ā she leaned back with an air of nonchalance about her, but you could see a mere frown just barely tugging at her lips and you could only feel your temple tightening with every syllable that left her. A migraine was sure to come any moment now.
āYeah well Iāll tell you something I tell all my clients; I donāt care if you didnāt do a single one of them, Iām here to win nevertheless,ā You assured, watching her grey eyes narrow at your words. āBut I can only do that if weāre on the same page here. I need every detail you can give me.ā
āItās a lot to explain.ā Leaning forward, she checked the time on her watch, one that seemed too ornate across her wrist. You scoffed internally; as if she had places to be, roaming around with these charges? You didnāt think so.
Your eyes rolled as a brief sigh of annoyance left you. Your patience was being tested at an excruciating degree.
āListen here, Sevika,ā you shoved your hands onto the desk, glancing into her eyes with daggers. āIām the bridge between you doing prison for life and walking free. Iām the one you donāt withhold evidence from unless you want me to walk as well so you make a choice now. Are you gonna tell me the truth? Because I need to analyse cases as soon as I get them if we have any chance of winning.ā
Eventually looking up, she met your eyes with an unwavering pressure building within them. She seemed the type to never have been pressured or challenged like this before, not even from the goons who wallowed in their drunkenness at the bar she frequently visited.
Something was off about her. You couldnāt place your finger on itācouldnāt trace the edges of her mind with your words like you usually would with clients. That contemplating look on her was supposed to give away the thoughts behind her mindābut it only masked what she really thought from you.
āIāll tell you; but I aināt handing over my own people who werenāt involved." Her tone was hoarse, thick and adhesive in the air. An obvious defiance in where her loyalty stuck, something you used to admire in people but now just felt like every word was an aching dull of lies from your own experience. āTheyāre already dragged into this mess enough as it is.ā
You stifled a scoff, that masking professionalism sliding over your face as a forefront. You could work with that for now. But if there were valuable witnesses, you werenāt promising anything.
āGood, then Iām on your side and anything you disclose with me stays between us.ā You said, the sentence working from your tongue like a practiced mantra.
Sevikaās story began much like others. The wrong place at the wrong time. Faux evidence. A setup. Owing another person something.
āIt happened at another bar. Central to St. lanes, a shootout between people.ā She spoke with a hushed tone as if exchanging conspiracy theories. You naturally felt compelled to lean closer, getting a face-full of the cologne that stuck to her skin like honey and smoke that clung to cotton. āIt was hard to see, only heard the gunshots before everyone went into chaos.ā Her fingers clenched, knuckling by her side that the brown tips almost turned lighter. āI remembered getting the fuck out of there, until the police showed up at my doorā¦ā
āMy prints were all over the gun even though I didnāt touch it.ā
She saw you perch an eyebrow incredulously, as if she made an attempt to go against one of the amendants. āYou didnāt touch it?ā Your question doubled down the skepticism inside of you. āAnd yetā¦your biological prints are all over it. Huh.ā
You groaned internally. A small, annoyed sound reverberating from the barriers inside of your throat managed to squeeze through your mouth. That was a lot of evidence for the prosecutor to testify with in court.
āSo youāre saying you were set-up?ā
She let a breath pass. āPrecisely.ā She gruffly mumbled.
Your eyes glanced down towards the fleshy patch of her right, unharmed arm. If she was to have shot someone, the direct angle would have to be in direct proportion to the arch of her right limb.
Your focus snapped back up. āI donāt think someone with a prosthetic arm would be stupid enough to use her flesh and blood if she was to murder someone.ā You commented, watching her form relax ever so subtly from your words. You werenāt going to let her feel relief that easily, though. You learned creating an air of urgency forced the client to splutter more truths in an array of fearā¦however, with the way Sevika presented herself to you, you wondered if she ever even felt true fear. āBut evidence suggests you touched that gun at some point, and you also mentioned it happening at the bar. Being drunk is an easy enough way to be stupid, unaware, andā¦I guess, dishevelled, in your case.ā
You looked towards her file, chucked to the side and slanted as if about to tip off the edge, and sighed again.
āThe next time we meet Iāll have a proper file for you, whatever you donāt say to me here Iāll figure it out nevertheless. Iāll get all the evidence and we can look more closely at it together.ā It was supposed to sound like a threat, a warning that her past, present, and near-future laid all in your palms to bare to the jury. āI also want you to write down everything you remember from that night. People. Witnesses. Who was involved, and especially if you came in touch with a gun. Thatās the most important thing here. I expect you to show up to our future meetings if weāre to form a case against the prosecutor.ā
You expected a different reaction, but since Sevika walked through that door, she hasnāt been the expectation you were waiting to see. She ignored the entire sentiment of your words, letting her weight suffocate the chair beneath her as her body melted into it. She kept her head straight, eyes pinned to you like a dart eyeing the red tempting bullsey.
āSo what do I call you?ā
Your eyebrows glued themselves to your eyes, furrowing between creases. āYou can call me whatever you like,ā you pushed your documents aside and stood up, looking down at her. āI earned the name legal eagle around here-ā
She snorted, making you suck up a breath of irritation.
āSo I guess Iāll call you eagle, then?ā She said, her words leaving a pool of something unattainable clawing its way into your guts.
āYeah well itās better than being called a criminal.ā You reminded her harshly, as you walked around your desk, almost like you were trying to outline it from how many times youāve passed it.
āIn your line of work? I donāt know about that. You're not exactly the prosecutor here, eagle.ā
You paused, looking over your shoulder as she stood up, stretching her limbs that rippled like waves with every jolt of her limbs. You didnāt want to admit her words had hit a nerve, besides, your admission would go against a strict rule you held; never get personal with clients, let them get personal with you. But something about Sevika felt inescapable as she sent you a smirk as she passed by, walking with a lope in the way her shoulders moved and her legs carried her.
The air tasted bitter after she left, something perilous and sleazy that made your spine crown. You knew she was going to be trouble, but you questioned if she was even worth an ounce of trouble you were going to go through for her.
āāāā
āVi, I need you to get caitlyn back.ā You had stormed out your office like a woman on a mission, a familiar saunter in which always ended in sleepless nights with your head slumped against the book of laws and dispersed documents.
āI-hold on-ā
āWhatever happened between you and her quite frankly doesnāt take away how great of a private investigator she is.ā You reminded her, moving aside the vase blocking her face from you, as a sharp smile took its turn onto your lips.
She mockingly sneered, continuing the typing on her keyboard before lifting a blue eye up to you. āYou only smile when youāre cruel, you know that?ā
You tutted, rolling your eyes and leaning yourself with urgency against her desk. āNope, and if Caitlyn was here sheād tell you otherwise. You know why-ā
āBecause sheās a great investigatorāokay, I get it, Iāll get her backā¦if sheās not already hooked up in another job.ā
āYeah well my pay is good. And who can resist that face of yours?ā
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. āYou're in a good mood for someone I just blindsighted.ā She turned her body entirely to focus on yours, and that was the moment you decided to shut yours down. āYou gonna tell me what happened in there-ā
āJust get Caitlyn." You knocked your knuckles against the wood twice before turning to leave.
āAnd what if she doesnāt budge?ā Vi called after you, perplexed.
āThen Iāll deal with her myself.ā You shrugged, grabbing your coat and hoisting it over you with a roll of your shoulders.
āOh, and Vi?ā You glanced back to see the questions loitering in her gaze, and you paused in your motions with a reluctant sigh. āWhere did you find Sevika?ā
A long silence stretched between you two, and a feeling you didnāt want to register bubbled below in your stomach. It was a Monday, and the weekends for Vi months ago had always been wrapped up in hazy gazes and bar fights that left her knocking at your door at the crack of sunrise.
āDown at the bar.ā Your shoulders stiffened and you cursed under your breath at her response. You shouldāve seen the signs sooner; where else would you find a person like Sevika loitering where sheād tell Vi her story when she seemed like such a stubborn, furtive person without the tongue-looser of alcohol around?
āReally, Vi? And you didnāt even tell me you went there? I couldāve come with you.ā
āYou donāt need to worry about me-ā
āDid you relapse?ā Your voice cut through her guarded tone, one that strung with traces of worry curving the edges.
She couldnāt respond. It was at these moments even her own name buried itself deep within herself like her head as it lulled between her two hands.
You were frozen on the spot, fingers clenching into your pockets as you glanced down at your feet that tapped erratically against the ground.
āVi I know-ā but a constant, sudden buzzing in your pocket stopped the impending speech you had quickly planned out into your head.
Digging your phone out of your pocket, your eyes slated into slits from the messages, urging you to look up to Vi with a strained breath and rare-sympathy softening your usually-sharp edged tongue.
āI gotta go. Weāll talk about this another time, Vi.ā You waved your phone awkwardly in front of you, pursing your lips as you watched her despondent face. āIām always a text away, okay?ā You cringed at the way you sounded, like an ad promoting healthy relationships, robotic and forced.
You turned to exit, your chest squeezing with dolefulness.
hey cutie, can i req Abby with a partner whos chronically ill? Like has chronic pain, brain fog or fatigue? Like fibromyalgia or something like that? No pressure
XOXO
-š
Here bby sorry I took ages š„¹ Iām going thru my other requests as well
Cw: mostly sweet fuff , subtle angst , Abby Anderson x Afab!reader with fibromyalgia (I do not have this condition, and have researched , so if I have made any mistakes please lmk (:)
The house was quiet; familiar enough to be comforting but thick enough of a silence to highlight that dull, knocking pain settling deep into your bones. The seldom brush of zephyr bulging your bedroom's curtains forward let through unwelcomed, distinct lines of light through like lines of solider's marchi g aganst the sun's beating gaze. Harsh. Brusque. Sore and unpleasant to your eyes.
It was one of those days where your body felt stuffed with bricks, limping with a looming sensation of weight being brutally packed inside of you. It wasnāt to say you weren't used to the hammering pang that settled like shards into your skin even when resting, it had been an unwelcomed visitor you chose to ignore until you couldn't anymore, in turn of knuckling down your jaw and taking the pain in a constant flux of waves that never seemed to leave the shore.
There was only so much you could doāand bare, as others suggested, as if they were all in on the same rotation of ideology when it came to your chronic illness, the pitch of ideas being the same things you've heard your entire life; low-impact exercise, therapyāmedication to wash away the conundrum and finally let the shore breathe for once.
But those steps of healing felt lifetimes away, a lifetime that involved you staggering to reach for something that felt meaningless to the sensations that crushed your body into attempting nothing instead, and letting the anguish inside you win to save the trouble of trying to push forward with a verdict of knowing disappointment ahead.
It was at these moments that even after a well-induced sleep, you woke up feeling deprived of life, deprived of any normality, deprived of sour, curious, pitifully hopeful what ifs and how can's that your girlfriend, Abby, managed to take some of that bearing fatigue away.
āHey, sweetheart.ā The house finally cracked alive as if sensing Abby's presenceāfloorboards churning, a rush of snugness easing the door's joints into sliding easily open as she walked through the mahogany-painted door. Your eyes, reluctantly and not without drooping, flickered up, almost like blinking was a mere suggestion in your day. Even on more demanding days like theseāyou still wouldn't miss the sheer beauty of your girlfriend. Verdant eyes animals would mistake for a habitat, low and crisp like a breath of air in a forest. That plait that riped like gold from the way the sunlight trickled down on it, as if anointing her to be part of the sun as one, only further enhancing those brown dots like freckles on a tabby cat.
āHow are you feeling today?ā The bed ducked under her weight, a veiny hand brushing against your cheek as if memorising every vessel beneath it.
You sighed, leaning into the touch. āLike I've resurrected from my grave.ā
Abby's lips twitched like she wanted to smirk, but they only settled into a softened smile as she moved to lay down next to you, crumbling the sheets below. āIsn't that supposed to be a good feeling?ā She mused, her words drawling in that sarcastic way of her that just screamed abby.
āFine, smartass,ā You tutted, drawing her closer as a soft grunt left you, almost as if every nerve inside you was burning upon your arisal of waking. āLike a zombie that's digging up from its own grave. Pure fucking agony.ā You muttered through clenched teeth.
Whatever amusement crossed past her irises disappeared instantly, as she shifted her body into a sitting-position, body pitched and alert. āEasy, baby.ā Her hands settled onto your sides, rolling you cohesively onto your back. āWanna soak in the bath with some epsom salts? I got a new batch for you the other day.ā
Her voice was the same tone she used when she knew your body was beating itself downāphysically, mentally, like a dreaded dumbell attached to your soul. Luckily for you, Abby benched more than a silly dumbbell that thought it could drag her girlfriend down, no matter if your motivation was lost.
A crooked smile, lazy and sleepy, irked your lips up. You nodded, eyes finally meeting hers with an igniting spark she undeniably started. āYeahā¦thanks baby. I almost forgot that it helped.ā You lifted yourself up, wincing albeit you were used to the creaking way your body worked.
āMmm,ā Abby watched your expression, that same expression that told you she was making a mental risk assessment of things that caused you harm, as if wiring herself to succumb to every need you had, to fulfil it all without adding to the constant nagging of your illness. āYou're all good, sweetheart. C'mere, let me help you to the bath.ā
She stood up, arms already bulging and striking forward to perch underneath your back, clasping you close to her chest. She looked content in that momentāas if solidifying you weren't a burden, but a star that struggled to shine due to its own shackles of torment, a torment Abby treated like nothing, like you were capable of being worshipped with or without this illness. And that was exactly the truth in her mind.
With a swiftness of a knight, she carried you with ease to the bathroom, hoisting your body atop the counter that felt like a cold, sudden stab against your skin. It made your body arch forward a little, like it was frost that left your limbs and joints stiff.
The metallic clink of the faucet and the scrunch of condemned salts created a waterfall of clatter in the air for a moment, until the splash of water against the tub settled the sudden noises into a calming cacophony. Your body relaxed, eyes skimming over Abby making your bath like a witch would a potion, with gentle hands, a loving caress here or there when she would catch you staring, and the inevitable kiss as she lowered your naked body she handled with love into the bath.
āYou good, baby?ā She asked, eyes crinkling with adoration, a mirror to the gaze in your own eyes.
āWith you here, I am.ā Your heart swelled with gratitude, and suddenly, the days ahead didn't seem as grave as they were before without her in your life.
Ofc just for you (you may be joking but Iām NOT)
Vi who is always wrapped around you like a vine against an abanonded building. Itās like trying to watch nature take back what was hers, because it didnāt matter what you were doingāher grippy hands where always settling against the base of your hips, to the tips of your thighs.
Vi who pathetically moans into the tiniest kiss that she initiated. It makes your insides churn and your abdomen twist like a warmth of honey, knowing you were the reason she stuck to you so much. She was deranged and obsessed.
Vi who stalks the stuff you read and implements them into real life. Sheās kissing. Marking. Biting. Trying to consume you whole like a meal set out before her, tempting and making her feel delirious. She knows youāre a naughty thingāand she loves it even more that she can be the one to fulfill your dirty fantasies.
Vi who loves a good cuddle in the morning. Clothes are scattered everywhereāa reminder of the warmth that hovered over you like a plague, and yet, despite the wave of hotness making it unbearable to even live in, she still clings onto you, trapping you between those muscles and insisting she āneeds thisā before she starts her day.
Vi who has the sleepiest, drawling voice ever when she just woke up, especially when youāre in the middle of riding her bicep planted right next to her head. āMmā¦baby yālook so good like that,ā sheād say, tone so breathless it came out like a whimper breaking through the air.
Vi whoās utterly obsessed with you š„¹š (especially ningavie)
Synopsis ā your mind craved a thing your body was already set in scars too see. masterlist
cwā please read all warnings , self harm mentioned , scars mentioned , knife play , blood play , fingering , breast play , teasing , bdsm , potential darker mature themes ahead , subtle angst , smut , fluff , praise , v soft dom Sevika , sub reader .
a/n ā if you are the person struggling with self harm please reach out to someone. Youāre not alone in this world, and a lot more people will understand than you think ! My dmās are always open, and I promise I will always lend a ear and a helping hand :)
wc ā 2.3k
āDrop by drop, fall too soon.ā
āSevā¦please.ā
Your voice was a droplet in a pond; meek, troubledāresurfacing only to shatter the remnants of calm around you. It made Sevika feel conflicted somehow. You were clean. You hadnāt done it in monthsāand now all of a sudden you were begging like a land-dweller stuck in an ocean to ātry something newā with you.
Sevika knew what type of person she was in bed. Confident. Never misplaced her power for something else. Guiding. Trustworthyāas she likes to say. She called your limits no matter your protest, as if it was something delicate and personal to her from what you could and couldn't handle.
But this was something entirely different. She knew you could handle this. You had already done that favour yourselfāa past trapped in scars that looked like risen beds of soil beneath your skinābut what you were asking right now wasnāt a matter of if you could handle itācould she?
āItāsā¦ā you gulpedāfinding a burning shame rise up in your stomach and reflect in your skin growing torrid beneath pores. āI know how it soundsā¦ā
āOut of everything,ā Sevika cut you offāher voice low as she approached your standing figure in front of her drawer that hoarded weapons inside. āYou want me to cut you?ā Her tone was accusatoryāas if she was sniffing out your ulterior motives before you had a chance to fully propose the idea before her.
āSevā¦ā The truth was, you didnāt know if this stemmed from how many times you've done itāthat the pain you covered with pleasure had turned pathetically into a kink you couldnāt deny because of how normalised it became for you. It was confusing. A mess. A series of branches that twisted too complex. You wanted Sevika to guide you through this like she always did with you. And today, your curiosity got the better of you, and you ripped the bandaid the second Sevika had come home.
You had been torturing yourself incessantly with nagging questions. What if someone else had the power over what you did to yourself? What if it was controlledāpourposely done in a space of delectation instead of dolor? But your initial fascination with the subject was always clipped short when you realised the reluctance you would get considering the past wounds that had been inflicted upon you.
āY-youāll be in controlā¦not me.ā You retorted backāmeeting those steel, grey eyes that mellowed in her irises like low, angry clouds pushing down onto you. All you needed was for Sevika to agree to this; to feel comfortable enough to inflict what you did to yourself back into you but through a lens of pleasure instead of choler.
The idea thrilled you too much too, and you hoped if you squeezed your thighs noticeably enough, let your breath come out in ragged pants, and maintain a poised position of eye contact with Sevikaāsheād truly see you were excited about this despite the scars littering your skin. That you trusted her enough to set your vulnerability into a power only she could create.
Sevika took you in. There you wereāstanding so tall in front of her drawers that smelled of after-bar fights and anti-septic wipes, with little to no hesitationāthe only worry creasing your face being in apprehension of her reactionā¦
āSweetheart,ā She started gently, letting her nose scrunch up subtly. āIām all for doing what you wantā¦indulging in those fantasies of yours,ā her colossal hand brushed against your jaw, thumb swiping over the skin as if trying to preserve it there. āButā¦I donāt know if I can do that to you.ā
Your face faltered at her words, and Sevika could already feel her mind and heart debating between what she felt was right and what you so clearlyāeagerly, wanted and maybe needed.
You brushed her hand away from your jaw, trying to make your own settle from being clenched.
āIām not weak Sevika, if thatās what you think this is about. I can handle it. I want itāplease, babyā¦I..I just want to try it.ā You tripped on your own words when you saw Sevikaās eyebrowsācontemplating, analysing your body language before she could make a decisionāfurrowing before returning back to their respective position above those stormy eyes.
She sighed.
āYou want it that badly, huh?ā She arched an eyebrowāher tone rolling of her tongue as that rumbling purr of it really made your thighs clench together insistently this time.
āYesā¦please Sevika! I promise you can dictate everythingā¦when you stop andā¦how hard you pre-ā
āIām not pressing hard.ā She warnedāpushing past you, thick, bulging legs carrying her towards the drawer you were protecting like a shrine. She barely sent a glance your way as you moved forward, letting her spring the drawer open.
āStrip.ā She commanded, your heart hammering as you saw her eyes scanning the smaller-ranged pocket-like knives in the drawer.
Your hands were already scrambling across your bodyāripping off every fabric. You werenāt going to disobey now. Not when she was finally letting you have this one thingāyou had promised her complete utter control, letting her steer the wheel which made this all feel safer than having it in your own hands.
Your clothes laid rustled across the floorāand with something picked out, the drawer closed as if being hushed by Sevikaās presence, her body turning to face your one. She didnāt glance at the scars like they were abnormalādidnāt bother acknowledging them with any worry or concern even despite the situation. Thatās why you trusted her. Not only was she your partner who loved every crease off youābut your dominant who knew exactly how to react.
āOn the bed. Tell me your safe words.ā Sevika said, eyeing the way your body scrambled to the bed, already twisting your body onto your back, lips parted and fingers trembling.
āGreenā¦yellow and red.ā You repeated them out like a mantra, feeling the swish of Sevikaās body moving sprawl air over your body like a viper, swift and smooth. Your eyes tracked her palm clenched around the knifeāsmall, probably duller than the rest, you noticed, utterly clean and not a singular jagged scrape marking it as dangerous for you.
Sevika nodded, her brown, clipped hair following the movement with ease. āGood girl.ā She whispered, stalking forward, and kneeling on the bed between your parting thighs.
She placed the knife down on the sheets for a momentāhands coming down to grip your thighs, fingers digging into the scarred skin as she, ignorantly, barely grazed your folds already being moisturised by your weeping hole.
āLet me make this clear, doll,ā she leaned down, the scent of something so distinctively hersāwoody, grounding yet dangerous like splinters pointing up, engulfed your senses fully. Her nose barely touched yoursāa fraction away. āAt no point during this do you touch this knife, do you understand me?ā
Her words hung in the air like a warning, one that settled so deeply into your bones it felt intimate. This was all you ever wantedāto control a situation you felt like you never had control in in the past, even despite you being the one handling the tools against your skin.
āYes, Sevā¦ā You muttered, leaning up on your elbows, watching her push back as your ribs collided with that hammering heart of yours still pounding widely inside of you.
She picked up the cold metallic steel again, thumb brushing underneath the sharp end as if she refused to test it on you before she did with herself. Almost like she had approved of itāshe let the blade spring free from her caress, and dragged it tortuously slow from your knee to your inner thigh.
Your breath picked up almost immediatelyālungs bursting with oxygen and brain spiking with traces of euphoria sinking into dopamine from that familiar sensation overriding your skin.
You hadnāt felt that in ages; the feeling of such coolness that could be such a double-edged sword between you and Sevikaāand while on one end, Sevika was the one forefronting control and pleasure, you were the one trembling beneath her with the weight of the past lingering between the two of you.
ācolour, babygirl.ā she coaxed, letting her fingers twist the blade just so the tip dug into your skin a bit. You felt your pussy clench underneath her pressureāand that gaze that flickers down knowingly to your throbbing clit and aching cunt.
āGreenā¦ā You sighed out, the breathless words not falling short on Sevika as she watched your eyes obsess over the gliding metal across your skin. āPleaseā¦Sev-ā
Her thumb pushed against your clit, a tut escaping her. āI get to decide when I go further with this. Donāt push your luck, doll.ā Slow rubs felt enhanced on your skin, making your back arch and mouth fall open seamlessly, as if the feeling of hot water cooled was dripping all over youābut you knew that was just Sevikaās presence taking over every part of you.
Short bursts of air spiralled out your mouth from her forceful rubbing on your clit, and that only heightened when you felt liquid dripping from the edge of your thigh. For a moment, your mind felt silent, too wrapped up in the seams of sensation of loose crimson embarks on your skin and slippery fingers brushing against the surface of your body.
Trickle by trickle, you watched the droplet run down the edge of your thigh from Sevikaās knife, admiring the way the light captured the tear-drop of rose that was usually hidden in the darkness of your ignorance.
Sevika watched your expression closely, observantly enough to capture the edge of your curiosity being fulfilled. For once, you didnāt feel the unwelcome squeeze of your heart when your skin was painted sangria by your own hands.
āMm, youāre alright, sweet thing.ā It was almost a coo if you listened hard enough. Sevikaās tone softened like butter being spread across toast, suave and tender despite the pain bubbling from the sensation of the cut drawled out like a needle of red-wool being indented into you.
A warm, inviting feeling travelled up your thigh, earning a trembling, rewarding moan to Sevikaās ears that echoed between the material off the walls, as if reflecting the intimacy back at you.
Sevikaās tongue swiped up at the cut, the earlier stinging settling suppressed under her muscle as if a cloth had been pressed against the angry rash. You watched it swirl against the wound, as if her tongue could capture the essence of the whole idea of this and turn it into something sharper and twistedāsomething undeniably, embarrassingly pleasurable.
āAh..god-baby please,ā you quivered out, your finger curling around one of her own that rested atop of your other thigh, watching as her eyes flickered up with a spark of something flashing across them.
āWhat is it, doll?ā She teased, moving from the cut to press a bruising kiss to other old scarsāsome faded, some as evident as a tabby, orange cat glistening in the sunlight, yet the weight of her kisses didnāt change no matter the depth. āGetting desperate fāme, baby? Where do you want me, hm?ā
āE..everywhereā¦ā you squirmed beneath her, mind already wrapped up in the thought of her hands and that devilish knife pressing further against your skin. Your thighs jolted from the feeling of the metal gliding against the tip, fingers gnawing deep indents into the sheets beside you.
āEverywhere?ā She mused, lifting herself up from between your legs, and pushing her knee on between your sobbing pussy.
You whined beneath her, eyes growing half-lidded and eyelashes fluttering as like strands of hair in the midst of a maelstrom, suddenly feeling that rugged, harshness of the knife that was supposed to feel threatening but felt safe in Sevikaās palm brushing against the tip of your nipple.
Your mind short-circuited. Back almost purposely arching before her hand pushed you back down, that familiar radiating warmth a pulse you wanted to feel forever.
āBehave,ā she warned lowly, trailing the rough-work of her fingers down your other breast, squeezing the flesh roughly, making you lilt back in response.
She scoffed, twitching lips pulling into a smirk. āYouāll run at my hand but not my knife?ā She let the blade curl around your other breast, watching the shimmer of the steel-like metal compliment the torridness of your skin.
She moved her knee againāletting it grind against your throbbing clit, letting strings of attachment engulf her knee from your juices leaking from your clenching hole.
āSevika-ā You met her eyes weakly. āPleaseā¦cut me again,ā A pathetic whimper followed, a mantra to all the times you silently wished this had happened sooner.
You wiggled your hips against her knee, hoping to meet the fleshy-muscle of her thigh, as she watched with barely-contained amusement and arousal shielding her irises.
āPathetic, arenāt you sweetheart?ā Her tone was like stones being dragged across the ground, gravellyābut a hidden fervour that was like a pebble skidding across ultramarine waters sloshed beneath it.
She let the knife jag harshly into your skin, just beneath your breast now, still relishing in the way you were pushing that sweet, pretty pussy of yours against her thigh, face mirroring one of pure ecstasy.
Your teeth clenched as you felt another line be drawn out across your skin, a slow, pained gulp that left your mouth feeling dry but your mind feeling fed. Your grunt washed away into a softened moan when Sevikaās fingers suddenly stuffed your drenched cunt, feeling the surprise in the way you unknowingly clenched around her fingers.
āI know, my sweet girl.ā She whispered, letting her thick, scarred lips press against your own as she moved further atop of you. Judging from her hands both being freeādespite one eagerly taking up space inside of you, she had dropped the knife on the edge of bed, letting her thumb brush against the gushing cut as you writhed beneath her.
āS-sev-ā She swallowed your whines into her mouth, her tongue a pressing force against your mouth as you got lost in the sensation of her. This whole experience felt like she had put a safety lock on the very thing you couldnāt control, and suddenly, it didnāt feel like a violating exposure to be so open with her.
