Hello everyone, and welcome to my blog! My name is Kei. I only write wlw/sapphic contents (smut, fluff, angst). I created this account to post my writings, don't be shy to leave comments, and criticism (I'm open to the idea of improving writing).
𝓜𝔂 𝓐𝓬𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓼
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𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓓𝓝𝓘 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮:
➙ a minor, I'll block you if I catch you interacting with my NSFW posts.
➙ a man, homophobe, racist, transphobe, fetishizing wlw and mlm relationships, or anything that's demeaning.
BULLYING OTHER READERS IN MY COMMENT SECTION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED, I WILL BLOCK YOU.
„Perueeeere…“, you mewl softly, nuzzling into your Husband‘s neck as you fish out the reports she‘s been so fixated on out of her hands when you feel her pulse increasing as you press your nose against her jugular vein, mixed with the soft aroma of her shampoo and an ordinary soap. Of course she does, she just recently came back from the shower after all.
cw: pregnant!reader, arle is so smitten fy ugh hate her, mentions of pussy eating
She tenses at your boldness before looking over, the blanket draped lazily over your baby belly as your hand tries to go unnoticed into her boxers, „What… did I tell you about-”
„I shouldn’t disrupt you during your thirty minutes of mandatory report reviewing, I know… but it‘s so hard when you are laying next to me like… that…“, you coo and kiss the pulse on her neck as you trace the hairy stripe leading underneath her underwear, noticing a slight tick in her jaw from pressing her teeth together.
„Like what…“, she asks, still not daring to move the slightest bit even when you slip your hand past the hem of her boxers, the warmth of her crotch making you hum in satisfaction as you gently engulf her soft dick in your hand, letting your index finger swipe over her cockhead as your thumb rubs agonizing circles over her sensitive shaft. You hear her breath shaking in kind before her hips buck into your hand all on their own.
„Don’t know… it’s the hormones, my love…“, you whisper against her skin before sitting up to reach her jawline with your lips, „Been torturing me for the entire day…“, you mumble against her skin, so eager to make her forget about the diplomatic matters she needs to attend to.
Her dick started reacting almost immediately to your hot touch, growing in size as her fingers twitched slightly at the suppressed reflex to just pin you down like a prey being caught, yet on days like these she‘s rather feeling like the one getting preyed on whenever hormones seemed to get the better of you.
„Oh… you… gulps poor thing…“, tormented by your hand stroking her under the covers she takes off those awfully good-looking glasses from her nose, placing them on her nightstand before finally turning to her side to face you, her own hand immediately fidgeting the fabric over your swollen belly as you smile to yourself at your silent victory over her. At the end of the day she is still so incredibly enamored by you.
„How do you want me, dearest…?“, she mumbles against your forehead, her other hand playing with the strands of your hair as you feel her warm hand roaming over your tummy, her paperwork already a long forgotten afterthought.
„On top… just on top…“, you sigh and let her carefully reposition you into a slouching posture on your own pillow as you feel the weight next to you shifting between your legs. Her bulge suddenly now significantly bigger as she sat before you on her spread knees with the tips of her happy trail slightly sticking out from beneath the shirt. That sight alone was enough to get a deep, longing exhale from you as you fight the urge to ask her for a shirtless view on her trained body.
„Is this to your comfort, ma cherié…?“, Arlecchino bends slowly over your figure, her open hair falling down in a white cascade onto your pillow as you nod, completely smitten by the beautiful view in front of you and suddenly that wedding ring felt a lot heavier on your finger than usual. At your confirmation she leans down, letting her lips softly brush over your temple as she starts to press kiss after kiss to your flushed face from your cheeks to your nose up to your forehead and down to your lips which she captures in a kiss that could be described in a way the moon‘s reflection hits the water surface of a lake in the silent hours of the night. Breathtaking, gentle and sadly not everlasting when she started to coo and praise you between kisses.
„My wonderful Wife…“
„So enamoring…“
She just couldn’t stop herself with this view on you, lips parted, cheeks flushed in a traitorous red with your sleep gown shoved over your baby belly that she felt a tight squeeze behind her sternum whenever she looked at you a little too long.
Her Wife is pregnant. From her. With her child. Pregnant as in you will give birth in a little over two months to a living being.
„P-Peruere…?“, you mumbled as your hand came down on her cheek to which she immediately placed her own over yours, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. „Hm…?“
„Nothing… You were staring just now…“
„Am I not allowed to admire the beauty of my Wife anymore…?“, she almost sounded a little insulted when her fingers shoved aside the soaked cloth of your panties, making you gasp when the cold hair hit your wet folds, the slick sticking to your brush like an invitation for Arlecchino to delve between your legs head first.
„S-Staring again- I can’t really shave with a baby in the way, I‘m sorry-”
„I‘m as scared of a bit of hair as a forest ranger in Sumeru is scared of their jungle, darling.“
„If you‘d now excuse me. It has come to my attention that I must have skipped dinner this evening.“
shoko has you perched on her lap, your top pulled up with your breasts spilling out from your bra. her lips are latched on to your nipples, tongue lazily swirling around the perky buds which makes you mewl cutely. that only riles her up, pace quickening as she pulls you closer towards her.
"sho~," you whimper and all she does is let out a small hum in response. "what if someone walks in on us right now?"
"it's not gonna happen," she mumbles, her hands squeezing your ass cheeks, making you yelp softly. "don't worry your pretty little head."
you huff, "someone absolutely could! you're at work and—," your censure is cut off when she gives you a harsh spank, making you both moan and gasp at the sudden contact.
"shhh," she says, her lips trailing across your chest and to your neck, making your cheeks burn as tiny, cute moans leave your lips. "let me take care of you." and just as she's about to remove your top off —
"SHOKO!"
the door swings open and in walks in gojo, that infamous cocksure smirk of his plastered across his face. he's about to say something but stops when he sees the sight in front of him — shoko's hands covering your bare chest with your own hands concealing your face, supposedly burning from embarrassment.
"my, my," gojo purrs, crossing his arms in front of him. "what do we have here? such indecent behaviour from such sweet girls."
"fuck off," shoko hisses, eyeing him down like prey. he puts his hands up in mock surrender as he closes the door behind, not before saying 'don't forget about protection!'
shoko rolls her eyes ar his stupid comment before turning back to you. she smirks a little from seeing your adorably flushed face and she revels in it more as she runs a finger along your panties and whispers in your ear, "let's pick up where we left off, pretty girl."
Sevika is not a ‘hear me out’ she’s a hold me back. Scariest woman of Zaun but she would be more in danger around the girls on tumblr than at any time in her life
cw: transfem!arle, arle has severe baby fever, handjob, tit fuck, milf!reader because I am insane rn, mdni
The sight was killing her.
The Knave had a lot of delightful experiences in her life, most of them included you. From your first meeting to your wedding up until the first child.
But seeing her dick neatly placed between your breasts- squished together by your hands with the already leaking tip dripping with her arousal that already ran down to your neck….
Celestia won’t let her get past the pearly gates. Ever.
It wasn’t the first time you used those pretty things to get your Husband off, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either. Especially with your current situation. Parenthood exhausted the both of you and neither of you had properly found the time to truly get back to… bed sports…. but Archons know that some Release was desperately needed. Just something to deal with the challenges you face every day with an eight month old baby.
And you wanted to start slowly. Like you always used to.
It first started purely innocent. A few soft kisses to the lips when she joined you in bed after a dreadful day filled with meetings and annoying paperwork. A few whispers about how much she has missed you and the baby throughout the day. It‘s all that’s been occupying her mind for the past months. You. Your baby belly she is missing dearly. Your child. And how she wants more children. Seeing you nurse the bundle of joy in your arms, waking up in the middle of the night to a cranky baby that grows quiet and suspiciously happy to see their Father pick them up from the cruel prison called „crib“ is giving the Harbinger more problems than she would like to admit. Especially to you.
It is usually advised to have at least a one year difference between birth and the next pregnancy and Arlecchino would rather spend a day with Dottore than put you through the process of pregnancy and labour again before you are fully healed. Even if that means exhausting her hand instead of you.
But just something seemed to be in the air when you pushed your tongue past her lips, sneaked your hand underneath her sleepwear to cup the tent thats raging inside her boxers and then soon found your hand underneath it. Grabbing her, squeezing her, jerking her right off as she thrusted her hips into you. She didn’t ask. Didn’t complain. Just savored what you were willing to offer her.
Of course, you noticed it. The way she eyed down at night, when you wore nothing but one of your silken gowns, when you came out of the shower or even when you looked like your worst after a restless night. You always noticed those bloody eyes eating you up. That cursed hand silently adjusting the position of her pants. A sudden shift in her position to cover her crotch.
As her wife, hiding was useless.
So was cleaning up the mess she left inside her underwear. Cock still twitching in your hand as you milked her out for all she was worth, bathing in the breathy moans of your Husband as she towered over you, kneeling on the mattress as her hands grabbed onto the headboard of your bed with all her might until the wood started to splinter beneath her grip.
But despite your hand being coated in the pearly, thick evidence of her climax…. Arlecchino still felt incredibly unsatisfied with her hardness still pushing against the fabric of her pants. She almost felt ashamed about it, having her poor wife take care of her carnal desires like this.
Poor??? You were anything but poor. You knew exactly what you wanted. And that was to fulfill your Husband’s needs just like she did it for you plenty of times throughout your relationship. And you wanted her lean back every once in a while too and maybe you’re not in the perfect state for all types of positions and durations yet… there was still a fair share of stuff you could do for her.
Which is why she found her cock between your tits now.
„You… really do not have to do this for my sake.“, she whispered, eyes fixed on the stretch marks running up the sides of your chest. She was sane. So sane. Totally not going feral in her mind.
„I want to. How often have you done the same for me….? Just see it as… a gift from your wife…. For your hard work…“, your voice was laced with a sweetness and warmth only reserved for her. The one that ring on your finger belongs to.
But all Arlecchino could think off at the thought of of a „gift“ from you was yet another child. Another nine months of taking care of her pregnant wife. Running warm baths for you in the evening. Massaging your bump before bed. Watching your peaceful face as you take yet another pregnancy nap.
She quickly shook those off.
„I… I will let you this on-” she was interrupted by the sudden movement of your makeshift hole. Working your tits around her back and forth and causing her to visibly shiver at the feeling around her. Not as nearly good as your pussy swallowing her whole but it was better than nothing. As long as it comes from you, Peruere will take everything you are willing to give her. And she will not complain.
She couldn’t help this image of you burning itself into her mind again. Pregnant with child. Her child. Goodness, Arlecchino might just pass out at thought of it. Just thinking about beautiful you looked back then (Always did. Still do.). The thought of sharing and creating her own future with you- someone who was never granted true freedom.
So unwell. She is so incredibly unwell. Chest tight with excitement- but no. That has no place here.
Wait. She will have to wait.
But for now she will enjoy this little fantasy of hers.
Gonna need sevika writers to keep going, i will actually die once the hype dies down, if u think no ones reading ur stuff, I AM. IM RIGHT HERE LESBIANS
A/N: I can't believe pride month is over, but I'll be damned if it ends and I don't have anything for these girls! Should I do one for the Saja Boys??
Zoey
“What do you say to us going to the bathhouse after this?… Awesome- You hear that, guys?! I’m taking my girlfriend to the bathhouse!”
Zoey knew she liked girls for a long time. When she lived in America, she enjoyed that she was in a sense comfortable to love who she wanted to love without much ridicule if at all. So for her, falling in love with you came easy and somewhat fast. She knew some fans wouldn’t understand, but that didn’t stop her from putting you on a pedestal and making sure the whole world knew who she was dating.
This maknae will always find a chance to hold you if not cuddle you in between shows, all while telling you endlessly how much she loves you between kisses on your cheeks. Because of how proud she is to have you as a girlfriend, she’ll even invite you to join HUNTR/X during interviews and fan signing. This lovebird makes sure no one forgets you two are together because of how happy you make her. And she hopes she makes you feel the same way.
Mira
“Where’s my girl?… There she is~. You enjoyed the show? Good, now come on, babe, we gotta celebrate.”
One of the reasons why Mira didn’t get along well with her family was because she wasn’t conventional when it came to her love. She liked guys, don’t get her wrong, but she loved girls way more. And she used to be pretty self conscious about it, but after she met you? Beautiful gorgeous you? Well, let’s just say that she parades you around sometimes. When she’s done with a show, she’s all over you, quick to put an arm around you and walk around as if you are both goddesses everywhere you go.
Expect to get a bunch of kisses on your forehead and brushes along your hand from her thumb. And especially be ready for her to put you in her lap like it’s a personal throne while she caresses your side. If anyone tries to ridicule you for loving her, she’s going to make an example out of them. She dares anybody to hurt you or make you feel like you don’t belong. They’re just another display of how much she loves you and cherishes you.
Rumi
“For the melody, maybe we can-… Why are you looking at me like that? I know it may be hard, but can you try to stop being cute and focus?”
Rumi had made it clear that she likes boys as much as her friends. But what she’s always kept behind closed doors along with her past is that she likes girls too. She had to learn that the hard way from performing at so many shows, meeting other artists and just being entranced by their beauty. It’s one of the reasons why she fell in love with you. You just. Waltzed right into her life and she thought you were the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.
She pursued you and at first tried to keep your relationship a secret due to fear of ridicule. But with your help and your unwavering love for the lead singer, after a show, Rumi pulled you aside and revealed to the world that you two were together. She has never been happier now that you two can be together in public. She loves how she can compliment you around Mira and Zoey. How she can talk about you fondly during interviews. And especially how she can sleep by your side without having to sneak you out in the morning. She couldn’t do it if it wasn’t for you. And because of that, she loves you so much and will love you forever.
Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3
Very touchy, will have her hands anywhere and everywhere on you while being intimate
Whether that be in your hair, on your chest, gripping your waist
Literally anything since she loves having you close
Wants to be in control as well, so manhandling is a must
Will toss you on any surface if you’re both in the mood, pinning your wrists down with one hand and running her other across your sensitive areas to hear you moan
Bondage is also something that really turns her on and interests her
Has extensive knowledge on the different types of knots and styles, because of both her hunter training and fascination for the topic
Enjoys seeing the ways she can make your body bend, pushing you to your limits before making you feel good
But she’s also satisfied with just tying your hands to the head board, gripping your thighs as she rests between your legs and give you head
Loves seeing the ways your body tenses up when you get close
Will push and hold you in place if you squirm too much, feeling the muscles spasm under her touch
Has also used you to pleasure herself while you were tied up if she was in the mood, but primarily likes being a giver
Biting you is a must, instinctively doing it when you guys get really into it
Even when she’s being more vanilla, she’ll always find a way to sink her fangs into you
Gets a bit embarrassed afterwards with how many marks are over your body, but is also proud at the fact that you let her do it and are willing to show it off
Would spank you if you wanted, interested in the way you squirm and get wetter from the pain
Loves using vibrators or dildos on you from time to time, sometimes having your back against her chest as she holds your legs apart; rubbing the toy against your clit
Other times she’s tied you up and placed you on her lap, watching as you moan and whimper from the toys inside you as she plays with the settings
Nicknames would be very affection, like my love or darling, even as she’s making you cum
Would definitely praise you while she brings you to climax, calling you pretty while you let out a strangled moan
Mira
Would be teasing you constantly, loving to lead you on and get you flustered in public then just walking away
Gets you extremely needy so you’re really desperate when you guys finally get some privacy
Will do light touches, loving the way you move towards her touch and beg her for more
However, when she thinks you’ve had enough, she’ll get a lot more touchy
Pushing you down and holding you in place, then using her fingers make you feel more hot and turned on
Only to pull away at the last second, loving to see the frustration on your face as she edges you
Uses rope and toys during this too, wanting to torture you even more
Loves pinning your hands in some way, especially having them tied behind your back as she watches you squirm
During this she’d have a vibe attached to you, just sitting back and playing with the settings as you become more of a mess
Definitely convinces you to use them in public too, innocently asking if you were okay after putting the vibe of the highest setting and seeing your face turn bright red
Loves to do pain play as well, especially spanking
Will manhandle you onto her lap, pinning your hands with her own or handcuffs as she hits your ass
Will keep doing it until you calm down and beg for her to stop
Only then will she consider doing something else, moving her hand to grab a toy to use on you
Has definitely put a collar around the neck before; making you crawl towards her or pulling at the leash as you came
Would use you to make her feel good as well; forcing your face between her legs, moving your head up and down as you suffocated against her
Has also had you grind against her leg and cum that way, getting a sort of pleasure out of your desperation
Very teasing and juxtaposing nicknames, like good girl/boy, brat or prince/princess
Can be more soft and vanilla if she feels like it, having her hands all over you as she focuses on watching the cute faces you make
Zoey
Extremely creative when it comes to making you feel good
Very big on experimenting, willing to do anything you saw online and try it out
Will literally do so much research on it to make sure she does it safely
However, once this happens, she’ll go all out
Loves combining bondage and sex toys, watching the confusion on your face as you try to figure out whether you’re feeling pleasure or pain
Forces you into the most insane poses, using rope to bend you in half; tying your wrists into a prayers pose behind your back and attaching your ankles to it
During this she would do something like attaching nipple clamps to your chest and put a vibrator inside you on the highest setting, just wanting to see the ways you react
Will overstimulate you until you’re dry cumming, whimpering every time you feel a pulse from the toy or the way her fingers curl inside you
Would also try sensory deprivation with you, putting a gag in your mouth and blindfolding you as you’re tied to the bed; feeling the way her fingers lightly graze your skin before disappearing again
Loves the way you try and find her, giving out a few muffled whimpers as you turn your head trying to listen for any movements
After she feels like she’s led you on enough though, she can’t keep your hands off you
Will use her fingers on you while grinding on your lap; your arms bound and unable to move as she devours your mouth
Will bite your lips and neck when she gets really into it, not even noticing the marks she leaves all over your body
Also loves trying different gags on you; ball, bite, spider, dildo
Would definitely get wet from watching you choke from it
Extremely high sex drive and would love if you kept up with her, body trembling as she asked if you wanted to go again
Very cutesy nicknames which is ironic considering the way she is in bed; like baby, honey etc
But she would also do something like calling you good girl/boy when she’s absolutely torturing you
‧₊˚── Synopsis: A year of the baker by Sevika's side, but the baker still has no bite. This bodes questions from certain ill-intentioned alphas, and Sevika must decide if she's ready to answer them.
Word Count: 5.7k
Content/Warnings: omegaverse! if it's not your thing don't read it; nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, reader is referred to w fem terms/pronouns, reader has female anatomy, sev has a dick, breeding kink, brat!reader if you squint, sub space if you squint, dom drop if you squint, blood, reader is harassed but nothing intense or explicit
A/N: holy hell. note to self: do not write a fic you actually really like or you will drive yourself crazy trying to make it's sequel perfect. anyhow, here is said sequel after nearly two months! i'm so sorry this took so long, but i truly do love this series and care just as much about the character exploration as i do the smut, so i really hope the wait was worth it! thank you SO much for all of the love on pt. i, and as always, enjoy!
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
Sevika slides into the booth tucked in the bar’s back corner.
In a practiced manner, her eyes scan the room. Over her shoulder to the stairs leading up to her apartment. To the wrought iron door at the front of the room. Left to the bar, right to the bathrooms.
She smirks in approval of The Last Drop’s Friday night debauchery, settling in like the foundations of a home well-loved. She reaches for the leather-bound cigar case you’d gifted her a few months back. She keeps the note that had accompanied it in her wallet; a folded piece of pink stationery scribbled in handwriting she’d learned so well after over a year of watching you furiously jot down recipes and grocery lists.
“consider this a token of my gratitude and an apology for making you stay up until midnight to taste cupcakes… it most definitely will happen again. :) <3”
Her cigar teeters in her mouth as a wicked grin spreads across her lips.
“You boys are so screwed,” she mumbles, lighting the cigar as she glances down at the game of blackjack in progress.
“Whatever,” one of her future opponents jeers, “we’re just warming up. Waiting for your ass.”
She chuckles through her nose, relishes in the smooth burn of smoke escaping with it.
“Yeah? Well, yours is about to get handed to you. Give ‘em here.”
Oxidised copper glints in neon green light as she reaches for the deck of cards to deal a new round, accompanied by the grumbles of her competition claiming she’s “just going to rig the game again.”
She chortles again, blows a ring of smoke out of her mouth, inhales, and,
The smell of honeysuckle.
She turns back to face the stairs again, a nearly untraceable smile gracing her lips as she awaits your descent.
A voice like honey to match as you round the corner, beaming when you finally catch sight of her.
“She’s out like a light,” you declare, recalling the sight of the girl you'd just put to bed, all snuggled up and holding her favorite blanket as tight as she had been when Sevika found her.
“She’s had a big day,” Sevika shrugs.
It had been a big day for the now six-year-old, what with all of the birthday celebrations that had ensued.
Just a few months ago, it dawned on Sevika that Isha had been around for over a year now, but that they’d never celebrated her birthday. It’s unbeknownst to most that tucked away beneath all of her brooding and brawn lies Sevika's firmly held belief that every birthday should be celebrated. She still tries to feign indifference to the occasion, but after a long night of experimenting with different buttercream frosting recipes and a few-too-many glasses of red wine, you’d learned that since her parents’ passing, Sevika always tries to do a little something to honor each of her years. She’d finish off a bottle of her father’s favorite whiskey in her darker days, or recreate her meal from her mother’s recipe book when things felt lighter.
More than anything, her birthdays were a chance to pay homage to her parents. An acknowledgment that not everyone gets the privilege of another year; a promise that she isn’t wasting the time she’s been gifted. That she's using each and every year she gets to make them proud.
This past year- and for the first time since she was 15- Sevika wasn’t alone for her birthday.
Instead, she pulls at the chain of the neon “Open” sign in your bakery’s window, switching it off as you lay eyes on your planner one last time.
You tsk, shaking your head and grabbing a pen to jot something down on the color-coded calendar. “I have to get powdered sugar tomorrow,” you muse, “don’t let me forget.”
“10-4,” she replies, sauntering over to you with an amused grin as she watches you chew your bottom lip; something you always do when you’re focused. She leans down to mirror your position, placing her elbows on the counter and her chin in her palm.
“Oh- and it’s Doris’s birthday on Sunday! I’ll swing by and drop something off for her… she really likes cinnamon rolls…”
You’re talking to yourself. Sevika still hangs onto every word. A smile stretches across her lips, slow and lazy. Her eyes follow your mindless ministrations; the way you twirl your pen with your dominant hand, the way the other taps rhythmically on the cool granite beneath it, the way you click the pen twice every few moments-
“When is your birthday?”
The question pulls her out of the trance she'd unwittingly fallen into.
“Oh… uh…”
She knows she’s about to get in trouble for not having told you. She also knows that following the trouble she’s about to get into, you’ll immediately make a fuss about making sure the day is properly celebrated, that she feels properly appreciated. The thought makes her heart ache. You already make her feel that way every day. She can’t stand to ask you for more.
Alas, she knows better than to rob you of the opportunity to dote. She grabs your wrist- gentle and gingerly as always- and peers down at the watch face adorning it.
“Well, I was born at 7:02 p.m., so technically, it’s in… 42 minutes?”
A bashful smile breaks out on her face, her hands coming up to cover it.
“Sevika!”
Her name on your lips. She’ll take it any way she can get it, even if it means you’re scolding her because now, you don’t have time to make her favorite dessert. So, she lets you fuss, lets you sing her happy birthday and demand that she make a wish before she blows her candle out, and ends up crying over a slice of carrot cake because it’s been over 20 years since someone cared about this day as much as she does.
It wasn’t long after that night that Sevika had her realization about Isha’s own birthday. She spent the next few weeks searching high and low for a certificate of Isha’s birth, or even just information on where she came from; who her parents were, where they lived, and if they might have had relatives who might know about Isha and when she was born. You never had the heart to tell her that she was setting out on a mission made nearly impossible by Zaun’s lack of record-keeping; partially because you figured Sevika could use any and all slivers of hope when and wherever she could get them, and partially because you figured that deep down, she already knew it was a lost cause.
The two of you are folding laundry on a Sunday afternoon when she finally concedes that she may be out of luck. Her shoulders are slouched in defeat, and her lips are pursed in thought as she thumbs over the silk tag on Isha’s favorite blanket. I get why she does this, she thinks. It does feel nice.
Her gaze falls down to the silk tag between her thumb and pointer finger, and suddenly, she sits up straight.
Your anticipatory gaze is already on her when she speaks.
“She turns six next week.”
Your brows knit together in confusion.
“Are the prophetic visions new? Or…”
Sevika doesn’t answer; just thrusts the blanket toward you, and lo and behold, there it is. Written in black ink on the butter-yellow baby blanket’s tag:
Isha
5-15-2019
The revelation unearths a side of Sevika you’ve never seen. By the time May 15th rolls around, her apartment is covered in confetti, balloons, and stuffed animals wearing party hats; all Sevika’s doing. But, naturally, a birthday party for Isha is nothing without a batch of her favorite blueberry muffins, and you’re more than happy to deliver.
The recent memory of wiping sugared blueberries from the corners of the girl’s mouth pops into your head, and a warm smile appears on your face.
“She sure did,” you agree with Sevika, placing a hand on her shoulder as you take your seat beside her. “I’m gonna get a drink in a second; do you-”
Sevika’s eyes are still trained on her cards as she slides a vodka-cranberry over to you.
“You take such good care of me,” you purr, and she glances over at you with a smirk and a cocked brow that says, ‘Careful.’
You know exactly what you’re doing. You know she gets off on taking care of you.
You innocently shrug your shoulders as you wrap your lips around the two tiny straws in your drink. She chuckles, as always, because, “you know those are for stirring, not for sipping, right?”
Tonight, she makes no comment, letting you sip through your too-small straws in peace in exchange for focusing on the cards in her mech hand and the grip the other has on your thigh.
The grip that tightens a few rounds later when the table’s sore loser is replaced by a newcomer.
He’s a patron she’s yet to come across. An alpha she's yet to come across. It's unusual. Unexpected. Sevika isn’t fond of the unexpected.
She’s less fond of the way his eyes seem to be drinking you in, and the way you seem to stiffen underneath his ogling.
“Mind if I join?” he queries.
She might have already slapped this man's cocky grin off of his face if you weren’t to her right, already noticing the clench of her jaw that he doesn’t yet know is a threat.
You wrap your arm around hers, thumb rubbing circles into the taut muscle of her forearm. ‘It’s okay,’ your touch says. ‘Calm down. I’m okay.’
You read her so well that, sometimes, she thinks you might be telepathic. She relaxes under your wordless comforts so quickly that you think the same of her.
All she offers the man is a grunt and a single nod toward the empty seat in front of him. Her eyes don’t leave him for a second as he sits. She’s determined to solve this man like her morning crossword, and you nearly mistake the soft whir of her prosthetic for the sound of wheels turning in her head.
She shuffles the cards, deals two to each player at the table, lights a new cigar. She doesn’t take her eyes off of him once. She’ll kick herself when she finally does, because as soon as her icy gaze relents, he’s got questions, and they aren’t about the rules of the game.
“She yours for the night?” He asks. He cocks his head toward you, but the inquiry is for Sevika; an inquiry that earns him a deep scowl.
“She’s not a whore. Walk down the street and hang a left for that.”
“You would know, huh?”
Strike one.
The look she gives him this time around is scarier. It isn’t one of annoyance, of being mildly agitated. It’s chiding. Stony. The look she gives Jinx and Isha when the answer is no, and you’d better not ask again.
The man raises his hands in surrender, leans back in his chair with a lazy grin, and says he’s sorry, but you both know he’s happy to be making trouble.
“Just play the damn game, man,” another player bemoans. The rest of the table’s occupants are just here for whiskey and a card game, not to see Sevika beat the shit out of some random prick; and they all know the latter is exactly where this interaction is headed.
Unfortunately, it seems that said prick wants to get the shit beat out of him more than everyone else wants their whiskey and a card game.
“She’s real pretty,” he drawls, looking down at his cards.
“She’s not interested.”
Sevika notes a second strike, huffing out a laugh as dry as your words.
“Mouthy, too, huh? Back in my day, they didn’t let whores talk this much.”
Three strikes, and you’re out. Sevika leans back with an eerie calmness. The rest of the table has already begun rising from their seats.
“Honey?” she purrs, pinching her cigar between two fingers and placing it on the ashtray at the center of the table, “You wanna go get us another round?”
Sure, you’ll make yourself busy doing that, but that isn’t what she’s really asking you.
What she really asks is: “Can I beat his ass yet?”
Your sweet hum of confirmation says, “Yes….”
The kiss you place on her cheek before you head to the bar adds, “...And don’t go easy on him.”
You’re not even two feet away before you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, his cries of protest as she grabs him by the collar of his leather jacket and drags him out to the dumpsters behind the building.
“New guys,” the bartender sighs, shaking their head as they get to work on a vodka-cran and whiskey served neat. “They never know when to stop.”
You’re already halfway through your drink when she returns, walking over to you. To the naked eye, she’s completely unassuming; you’d think she just went to take a piss. The splatter of blood on the collar of her shirt says otherwise, but it’s not like she’d let anyone but you get close enough to notice it.
The blood stain isn’t what grabs your attention, though. Instead, it’s the look in her eye, the furrow of her brow, the small frown pulling down at her dark lips.
Uncertainty.
Sevika is never uncertain after a fight.
“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, your voice low and urgent.
She clenches her jaw, shakes her head, exhales sharply through her nose.
“Nothing. Just tired.”
Your eyes narrow.
“I think I’m gonna call it a night. I should probably stay at my place with the girls tonight. You know, make sure they get to Doris’s alright in the morning.”
You nod, letting her get away with thinking you take her words at face value, but the entire point of having Doris watch the kids was to spend time with each other; to be together, not apart. For all intents and purposes, Doris was like a mother to you, and for all intents and purposes, you’d become something like a mother to Jinx and Isha yourself, so Doris had offered to start keeping the girls every other weekend.“Let me watch the grandbabies,” she’d warmly insisted, “You two deserve the break every once in a while.”
That was the point. That the girls would go off to Doris’s for a few days, and you and Sevika would indulge in some much-needed alone time. But now, for the first time in over a year, Sevika’s asking to sleep alone.
You let her. You know better than to push too hard when she’s closing up.
But never, in her guardedness or uncertainty, does Sevika neglect to take care of you, and when she still insists on walking you home, a weak smile breaks out on your face.
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
You let Sevika sulk for two days before you show up at her doorstep with a slice of carrot cake and a stern request for an explanation.
You’re not ignorant of the drawbridge Sevika tends to raise when she feels powerless, but this is the longest you’ve ever waited for it to come back down, and you can’t help but worry that, maybe, you’ve done something wrong.
Her face falls when you admit this, and she knows it’s time to let you back in. You sit across from each other at her small kitchen table, her eyes downcast, but her hand still stretching across the unstained wood to grasp your own. You rub slow, firm circles into the back of her hand, the motion steady and reassuring. Exactly what you are to her.
“You remember that asshole at the bar the other night?”
“Unfortunately,” you deadpan. “You fucked his shit up, right?”
She snorts, her lip curling up into a smirk. She doesn’t need to tell you that of course she did.
Her smirk falters. There it is again; uncertainty.
“He just, uh… he said something that kind of got under my skin.”
He was already pinned up against the wall and his nose was already broken when he got these final words in:
“You fight like she belongs to you,” he'd jeered, “but I didn’t see a bite.”
To say this got under her skin was a massive understatement. It rocked her. So much so that she felt the ground underneath her feet quake, and the world she’d built around you fracture.
She realized in that moment that she holds you the way she does, so gentle and gingerly, because she’s afraid she’ll drop you and you’ll shatter. That everything you have will crumble, that she’ll realize none of this is real;
Because he was right. You don’t have her bite. You aren’t really hers.
“How so?” you ask, your voice so soft amidst the one she’d been chastising herself with for the past two days.
She rubs her temples, mulling over your question with a deep sigh.
“I don’t know… I mean, don’t you feel like we’re just playing house sometimes? I mean, don’t get me wrong, It’s not that I-”
She interrupts herself with a huff, and you squeeze her calloused hand, encouraging her to continue.
“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to be with you; to be around you, and for you to be around the girls… but I just… I don’t know.”
She does know. She’s just terrified to say it.
You give her a knowing smile.
But you don’t fill in the gaps; you don’t finish the sentence for her.
You’re going to make her say it.
And finally, she does.
“I want more.”
Your hand freezes, but your grip remains firm. Your eyes are glued to her own.
You’re still here. You’re still steady, still constant, but you need her to be sure.
“You want more?”
Her shoulders slouch as she sharply exhales, her brows knit together, and you swear you hear her whine.
“I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want you to be mine.”
You nod, slow and knowing. A pregnant pause settles over the kitchen table until,
“Bite me, then.”
Her expression doesn’t change, but her pupils blow wide and her jaw ticks.
“If you want me to be yours, make me yours.”
Her voice is damn near an octive lower when she speaks again.
“And you know what you’re asking for?”
“If I haven’t made it clear that I want a life with you, then I’m sorry for not being forward enough,” you chortle. “I want to be yours, Sevika. I want you. Now.”
She stands with a relieved chuckle. “Now?”
“Right now,” you repeat with a giggle, rising to meet her.
“Right now? Right here? And ruin my handmade kitchen table?”
She’s bending you over it anyway.
“You seem to have made up your mind already,” you challenge, pushing back against broad hips.
She grabs at the flesh of your own, leaning down to place a kiss on your jaw before she mutters,
“I’ve had my mind made up since the day we met, sugar.”
Her hands smooth over the swell of your ass, kneading at the juction of your thighs just below it before sliding the soft fabric of the white sundress she’d bought you up to pool around your waist.
And then, she’s kneeling before you; like you’re her altar, and she’s come to leave an offering.
She tugs your underwear down and tastes you like it’s worship.
Her hands find purchase wrapped around your legs, and her tongue works through dewy petals in slow, purposeful strokes, lapping up the nectar pooling at your core. She swirls her tongue around your clit like the cubes of ice she’d put in her vodka-cran earlier. She hates vodka-crans, but she missed you more, and when she tries hard enough, she can convince herself she’s tasting the too-sweet cocktail on your mouth instead.
But nothing makes her tispy quite like tasting you does, and she doesn’t stop until she’s drunk off of you.
You cry out, high-pitched and broken, and she pulls her mouth off of you with a pop.
She stands up, turns you around, looks down at you with lidded eyes and glossy lips tugging up into a smirk.
“Why’d you stop?” You pant, brows pulling together.
“Missed your face,” and she’s so dizzy off of your pussy, she’s damn near slurring her words.
You scoff in amusement, pulling her in for a taste of your own arousal. “You’re such a lover boy,” you muse against her lips.
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” she replies.
“Is that right?”
She quirks a curious brow at the sound of your wicked purring.
“And if I want you to be inside of me?”
Darkened eyes peer down at you with a new hunger.
“What you say, goes, baby.”
She reaches down to tap the back of your thigh in a wordless command, and you wrap your legs around her waist. She buries her head in the crook of your neck, shamelessly inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and musk as she carries you to her bedroom and lays you out onto soft sheets and silk pillow cases.
“They’re so much better for your hair,” you’d excitedly explained as you shoved them into the cart.
“What you say, goes.”
She’d said it and meant it then, too.
Your hands are tugging at her belt now. You pull her in, muttering something about how much you missed her, how badly you want her.
She yanks it off in one quick, fluid motion. You make even quicker work of unbuttoning her pants, sliding them off of broad hips and long legs, and throwing them toward the pile of clothes already discarded on the floor.
When she sits back on her heels to take her shirt off, you do the same, reaching for the hem of your pretty white dress.
“Uh-uh,” she suddenly chimes, “leave that on.”
You chuckle, leaning back on your elbows as you watch her strip her last layers of clothes off.
She’s a bronze statue, sculpted by the Gods themselves, glimmering in the golden hour light spilling through her windows. Your jaw is slack, eyes heavy as you drink her in. They dart from feature to feature; the stray tendrils of thick, black hair falling around her strong jaw, the glittering scar spreading across her skin like lightning, the swell of her breasts and the cut of her waist, the dark trail of hair leading straight down to her length, hot and heavy, already weeping for you.
Your eyes snap up to meet her own, and when they do, she pounces.
Just as ready to ruin you as you are to be ruined.
You gasp into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. She only pulls away to breathe, dazed eyes drinking in your features.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty…”
She plants a kiss on your nose. “You know that?” Another on your cheek. “Such a pretty girl.” Chaste kisses trail across your jaw, teeth find the lobe of your ear, an open-mouthed kiss is pressed against your neck. “Can’t wait to watch you fall apart. So fuckin’ pretty when you fall apart.”
A broken whimper escapes you. You feel her smirk against your throat.
“Yeah?” She croons, tongue darting out to slide over your windpipe. “You want me to take you apart, baby?”
You whisper a “please,” subtle as the twitch of your hips.
It’s all the begging she’ll let you do for the rest of the night. Being loved by Sevika means wanting for nothing, and she’ll be damned if you ever have to beg for the pleasure she was put on this earth to give you.
She reaches over for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, and you’re already spreading your legs for her.
“Somebody’s eager,” She teases, stroking her erection and spreading the clear gel over its length.
“Just missed you,” you pant, all but drooling as you watch her prepare herself for you.
A pang of guilt shoots through her. She knows you don’t mean anything by it, knows you aren’t trying to make her feel bad for closing off, running away.
Still, she feels bad anyhow. Knows you didn’t deserve that. Props herself up with her free hand, lines up with the entrance of your heat, and vows to make it up to you.
She drives her hips forward, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, and she stills inside of you, gritting her teeth and trying her best to stay calm despite the rhythmic pulse of your walls around her cock begging her to ravage you.
She sure as hell could- and she sure as hell wants to- but just as always, she puts you first.
Your breath quickens as the sensation of being so full proves overwhelming, and her hand snakes up from your hip to splay across your chest.
“Breathe for me, sugar,” she lowly coos. “You’re okay.”
She gives you a soft smile and gentle praise when you obey, her palm warm against your skin as it trails up to cup your jaw. She leans down, body caging your own.
“You ready?” She asks, her mech hand reaching down to hook your leg up and around her waist.
The pulse of your heat around her speaks for you.
“Janna above,” she chortles, letting her head fall down to nestle into your shoulder, “I’m really trying to keep it together, here.”
You lace your fingers through the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck and turn to place your lips on the shell of her ear. Then, you whisper, low and dangerous.
“I don’t want you to keep it together. Fuck me like you mean it.”
A growl against your neck, sharp canines scraping the skin, and the delicious pressure of the head of her dick against your cervix, all at once.
If this is how it starts, you can’t wait to see how it ends.
Your grip on her tresses tightens as she sets a punishing pace, snarling in your ear.
“You gonna tell me if it’s too much?”
“Uh-huh,” you manage through airy moans.
“Good. You gonna remember you asked for this when you can’t walk straight tomorrow?”
You giggle, dazed and blissed-out.
“Answer me, baby,” she warns, gripping your jaw like a vice, the metal cool against your flushed cheeks.
You bite your lip, bat your lashes, and nod with wide eyes, feigning innocence.
You’re being testy tonight. It isn’t the first time it’s happened.
Out in public, you’re the picture of patience. You never lash out, you never raise your voice, you’re never petty or passive-aggressive. Unyieldingly, frustratingly patient.
She quickly discovers why. Learns that it isn’t for your lack of a backbone, but because you’re patient enough to wait for moments like these, when all she wants is your surrender, your submission.
That’s when you bite back.
It’s not like she can blame you. She knows you're upset that she all but left you for almost three days, and knows this is your way of telling her.
And if you want your apology in the form of being fucked dumb, it’s not like she’s going to say no.
She chuckles back, grabs the back of both of your thighs, presses them to your chest, and pounds into you until you scream.
It isn’t long before you’re a mess underneath her. Legs trembling, eyes rolling back, blabbering. She watches you slip into euphoria, and quick strokes turn languid.
“Look at me, love,” she rasps, setting your calves on her shoulders; and when your eyes flutter open, you find her staring back with pure adoration.
“You okay?” She nods.
“I’m okay,” you nod back. “Love you s’much…”
And her heart nearly breaks.
She leans down, shushing you softly when you mewl at the feeling of her sinking even deeper into you.
She’s pressed right up against your womb. You can feel her twitching inside of you.
That’s when it happens. That’s when you picture her filling you up, being swollen with her seed, and then with her babies; and suddenly, you’re reaching down to rub at your own clit, fingers working frantically, hips bucking desperately.
And you’re pushing her head down into your shoulder.
“Use your words, honey,” she pants, rutting into you. “Not until you use your words.”
She doesn’t let you beg. Only makes you say it once.
“Bite me, Sevika.”
And what you say, goes.
Sharp canines sink into soft skin. Suddenly, you’re standing behind the counter, wiping flour-covered hands onto a blush-colored apron, letting her know that Isha’s safe. Then, you’re sitting on a barstool in your kitchen, sipping wine and writing down an updated recipe for your famous carrot cake, because she swore it was better with more cinnamon. Next, you’re giving her a slice of that same cake for her birthday, and then you’re doing laundry together, knocking over piles of folded clothes to make out like a couple of teenagers.
Finally, you’re curled in up in ball on your bed, surrounded by every pillow and blanket you could find, and the hand that rubs soothing circles in between your shoulders ends up pressing you down into the sheets as your velvet walls spasm around her length.
The flash of memories is so vivid, she nearly forgets that she’s seven inches and two canines deep inside of you, but the cry of her name from your lips sobers her like a splash of cold water in the face, and when she finds you just as inundated in an earth-shattering orgasm, her own is quick to follow.
She cums with her teeth still planted in your neck. Doesn’t pull away until both of you are boneless and breathless.
When she does, her eyes are glued to the mark she left. Droplets of dark red bead up on your skin in the shape of her bite. You don’t miss the way her eyes widen, the way her breath hitches, and when she brings her fingers up to her lips to feel for blood, you realize she’s afraid she’s hurt you.
“Hey, hey,” you quickly plead, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m okay, Sev. I’m not hurt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You sure?” She exhales, eyes still locked onto the fresh wound as she lets you pull her in to lie on your chest.
“Look at me, angel,” you coo.
She tears her eyes away from the bite and cranes her head to look up at you with glassy eyes.
You’re not surprised that Sevika seems so overwhelmed; that she trembles in your arms, that her breath comes out shaky as it evens out. You’d always heard that giving a bite can be just as intense as getting one, so you went into this more than ready- more than willing- to walk Sevika through whatever that looked like for her.
You stroke her hair, trace the strong lines of her face, press your thumb into the tight muscle of her scarred shoulder.
“I’m sure,” you finally respond. “I promise.”
She finally relaxes in your hold. Settles in like the foundations of a home well-loved.
You fall asleep first. She’s careful as she stands to make her way to the bathroom, where she dampens a rag and grabs a first-aid kit. Her heart feels so big she’s afraid it’ll burst as she gently wipes away at the mess between your thighs and disinfects the bite on your neck.
She lies back down next to you, drapes an arm around your waist, and for the first time since she started taking them, she wearily eyes the bottle of suppressants on her nightstand.
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
The discovery of Isha’s 6th birthday meant the realization that it was time to send her to school. Sevika knows it’s a necessity, an important milestone, an inevitable part of life when you choose to raise a child.
That doesn’t make it any less difficult; doesn't change that tears prick her eyes as she walks out of Piltover Elementary, having just dropped the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed girl off for her first day of first grade.
“Don’t cry, mama,” you smile, squeezing her hand as she turns once more to look up at the opulent school building. It hadn’t been easy, deciding to enroll Isha in a school Topside, and Sevika would be lying if she said her ego hadn’t been a bit wounded for it. Still, she’d be damned if Isha didn’t have access to the best education there was in the safest place there was, and right now, that was Piltover Elementary.
You promised her it’d be just fine, that she’d be right across the street all day at the Council’s headquarters, and she promised herself to use all of that time fighting for better education in Zaun.
She knows it’s the right choice. Knows Isha will do great. But no one prepared her for how hard it’d be to have a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body.
She didn’t think she’d ever have that; didn’t even think she wanted it, but now, she’s watching a line of Pre-K students with bookbags too big for their tiny bodies trail up to the front doors of the school, and a smile is tugging at her lips.
You read her mind. Nudge her arm. When she looks over at you, you wear a knowing smile of your own.
“What?” She mutters, looking away bashfully.
“You want more babies, don’t you?”
She’s getting ready to scoff and brush off such a ridiculous assumption, but then, one of the kids figures out how to blow a raspberry, and a chorus of high-pitched giggles rings out.
(i tagged everyone who expressed interested in pt. 1; if you'd like to be removed, just shoot me a comment or a message and i'm more than happy to do so, no hard feelings!)
I know the movie literally just came out, but I'm desperate for more fics about these Beauties, so I made my own💅
This is an X reader fanfic, I'll try to keep her appearance vague but please note that Y/n is her own character in this. She just has your name, and yes it is a Fem reader (Sorry Fellas and Non binary pals).
WARNING: This Fic is kinda spicy, I tried to keep the characters as accurate as possible, but I mainly base the rest of the Saja boys on headcannon (They deserved more Scenes fr😞)
so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, SCROLL AWAY🤺🤺
✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧
A thick, endless fog curled low across the dead earth like a suffocating breath that refused to exhale. The air was cold, not biting like winter
But hollow.
Empty.
Even the damned didn’t dare walk this path.
The trees stood like petrified skeletons in a graveyard of gods. blackened trunks stripped of bark, their branches crooked like the outstretched claws of something long-dead and still begging.
No leaves rustled.
No wind whispered. The soil was dry and cracked beneath rotting roots, yet slick with something ancient and black, clinging to boots like tarred memory.
Each step echoed louder than it should’ve in the nothingness.
The figure moved through the fog with measured caution.
A man, tall, composed, cloaked in silence but threaded with purpose.
His hair was the color of shadows soaked in moonlight. deep, pitch-black, yet strangely reflective.
Beneath the wide brim of his Gat, a pair of piercing yellow eyes gleamed like twin embers.
Purple demonic sigils crawled up the side of his throat, across his neck, arms, and beneath the folds of his robe like ancient tattoos.
He wore a pristine black Jeogori, its sleeves trailing just past his wrists, paired with traditional Baji that ghosted around his ankles with every step.
The silence here was thick, wrong. It pressed against the eardrums like a warning
Leave.
Turn back.
Don’t wake her.
Yet he pressed on.
Every demon in Hell knew this place.
They whispered of it.
Feared it.
Avoided it like the plague.
A dead forest at the edge of damnation, a realm untouched even by the Ten Kings. No souls were punished here. No screams echoed from the trees.
Because this place didn’t punish.
It waited.
The fog curled tighter the deeper he walked, brushing against his clothes like fingers made of smoke.
The light -what little there was- seemed to bend unnaturally around the trees, filtering in a colorless gray that made it hard to tell how far the forest stretched.
He felt shivers go down his spine as he continued to walk, only hearing his footsteps.
He felt something bump into his leg, he looked down, seeing the purple Tiger that had been following him around.
It's yellow eyes looking up at him curiously, a familiar crow landed on top of his shoulder, eyes looking at him from the side.
As if it was silently judging its master.
"Don't look at me like that"
Jinu muttered, looking straight ahead.
"If this plan is going to work, we need her help"
He said, talking silently, as if afraid he'll wake up whatever creature that was hidden in this fog.
He had already made it this far, recruiting demons like him that he thinks fits the job. They weren't perfect, none of them were.
But that's why he was here, he needed all the help that he could get.
The memories
The voices
He couldn't take it anymore, he needed them gone.
He reached deeper into the dead forest, not being more aware of his surroundings as he accidentally stepped on a twig.
He winced, hearing the sound echo through the fog.
The air grew heavier, colder, and eerie.
He felt it, the presence.
He couldn't see them, but he knew that she was here, he had woken her.
"Tell me the name..of the one who dares..step into my domain.."
A voice rang through the forest, it was silent, soothing, nearly sweet. But he knew it was just a facade, a Trap set for anyone foolish enough to fall for it.
"It's Jinu, My lady"
He introduced, staying strong despite the fear that was crawling up inside him, he forced himself to bow. As a sign of respect for the Forgotten entity.
"Jinu."
The voice repeated, testing the name for herself before letting out a hum of disapproval.
"And what is the purpose for your visit, Jinu?"
She questioned, her voice soft like a Lullaby.
He lets out a shaky breath, before standing up straight, face blank yet eyes fiercely determined.
"It's the Hunters, they only grow stronger after each day."
He explained, looking up at the sky. Even in an isolated area, anyone could still see the lines of blue strings, decorating across the sky.
"It's only a matter of time before the Honmoon turns gold"
He said, feeling the Fog growing thicker as it surrounds him, The crown on his shoulder Tensed up, sensing that something was wrong, but Jinu didn't notice.
"I have a plan in order to stop them, but I need your help"
He said, eyes looking up as he scanned around him.
He couldn't see anything, the Fog was keeping everything hidden as it seemingly grew.
A sudden chill ran down his spine at the silence.
"Why should I help you?"
She questioned, her voice no longer holding the soft and eerily sweet tone as before.
He took a step back, a drop of sweat trialing down his cheek as he refused to get intimidated by her.
"If the Hanmoon turns gold, it'll be the end for all of us"
He reasoned yet that only made the voice scoff in displeasure.
"Perhaps, but I don't see it as a bad thing. Not entirely"
He clenched his hand into a fist, running out of ideas on how he could convince her, as the Tiger looked up at him with concern.
"The Demon king, once powerful and feared by all. Now being beaten by a group of mortal hunters"
She said in a mocking tone, holding hidden disgust in her voice when she referred to the ruler of this realm.
"It's amusing isn't it?"
She muttered, sounding deep in thought, he couldn't see her, he couldn't feel her presence but she was close enough that it felt like she was whispering in his ear.
He needed to say something.
Anything in order to convince her.
He had come this far, he couldn't simply give up now.
Not when an eternity of hearing those voices were awaiting him.
After a moment of silence.
The fog retracted, giving him some room to finally breathe.
"Very well."
His eyes widened, head snapping up at the empty space in front of him.
"What?"
He muttered, not knowing if she was playing a trick on him.
"I will help you, Jinu. You seem quite useful"
She whispered, as more parts of the forest slowly but surely started to reveal itself.
He didn't let his guard down, not when he was around her.
He heard rumors about her
The Lonely maiden forgotten and cast away by her followers.
Now forever trapped here, like the rest of the fallen souls.
He shouldn't trust her, but he was a desperate man, seeking for some ounce of freedom from Gwi-ma's clutches.
"But in return.."
The Fog that surrounded him suddenly stirred, not by the wind, but with intention. As if it were alive.
He took a step back, breath caught up in his throat, the Tiger moving in front of his Master, growling slightly at the empty space.
A column of fog pulled itself upward, slow and elegant.
Tendrils unfurled, stretching like fingers flexing after a long slumber.
The air grew colder.
Heavier. And though no eyes could be seen, he felt her watching.
The shifting mist twisted delicately, almost lazily, shaping the vague outline of legs, then hips, the gentle curve of a waist.
Each movement was smooth, practiced, like the fog had done this before.
The upper half began to form a torso, arms, long hair that flowed and drifted as though underwater, trailing behind the forming silhouette.
Then her face began to take shape. Not all at once but in fragments.
A hollow curve of cheek. The graceful slope of a jaw. Lips sculpted from mist.
And finally
her eyes opened.
Two faintly glowing embers, pale and cold, not meant for mortal gaze.
The fog hissed and fell away from her form like veils being peeled back, revealing smooth skin like marble caught in moonlight.
Her limbs moved slowly, elegantly, with the weightless grace of something half-forgotten by time.
She stood there now. Silent. Serene. Real.
No footsteps. No sound.
Just her presence terrifying, and beautiful.
A soft smile appeared on her lips, her head tilting slightly to the side, as she could finally look at him closely.
"Your soul will belong to me."
✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧
That's it for now! Hope it peaked your interest at least, I don't have a schedule set, but I'm hoping I'll be updating more frequently.
I already have so much planned for this story, so please wait for it!
IT‘S HERE IT’S HERE IT‘S HERE!!!! OOOOQJJEJQ THE SCATTERED PAPERS THE SMUG LOOK, THE SMEARED LIPSTICK OH MY GOD LOOK AT HEREEEELRBWJRBBW lesbians getting freaky on the finest wood SOMEBODY SEDATE ME hnghhabqh always @/seijousai at the scene of arlejuno crimes oh dear me I love how she draws Juno it‘s just so… Juno…. If that makes any sense ahbeskbrnwne THROWING UP I LOVE THIS SM
ᡴꪫ. jealous shoko & scissoring, graduation sex 𖹭 suguru's ex ! f. reader ˖ ࣪ꮽ˳
shoko hates seeing you so upset over suguru.
a man who left. who detected and left you behind to your lonesome. she hates that you're so strung up over him even after years. how you're sad that he's not going to be there for graduation. that was his choice. but you — precious you is so caught in the past.
over some guy.
but it's okay, she knows the perfect way to distract you. not even an hour after graduation your after-party is simple. strewn in her sheets. her pussy flushed to yours. needily, tiredlessly, blissfully humping away.
“still thinking about him doll?” she huffs over your sloppy mouth, a product of a messy make-out. nothing in comparison to the drooling mess between your legs.
your clits catch and your head falls back with a whine. barely processing, barely thinking. you buck up and shake again, frantically. “no - n-no -”
“no who?” her legs lock on yours tighter. her wetness smears over your trembled slit. slower, more pressure. so that you squeal and jerk your hips up.
“n-no shoko! no. . . no only you, only you shoko.”
she smiles at your babbles and tucks her head lowers. her lips dance on your sweetly as she stutters your throbbing pussies together. rewarding, lithe fingers pinch your tits and caress the fat of your breasts.
“that's it." she parts with a gasp and flicks her sleek hair over her shoulder handless. too focused on the fluid grinding of your messy, heated wet flesh.
