whalien.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

hi! my name is luna!

i’m an artist and i occasionally write though it’s nothing special (╥﹏╥)

i use any pronouns but if thats confusing then you can use she/her!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

i plan to post primarily oc content so feel free to ask about them! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

some games + series i enjoy are: black desert online/mobile, world of warcraft, TSHD, MLP, CRK, DOOM, and skullgirls!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy my blog!! ( •◡-)-♡

Taming the teaser ★

⟢ Now playing: genie in a bottle (Christina Aguilera) M.list

⟢ Synopsis: Sevika was a cocky little thing, especially when it came to you. She truly believes she has you wrapped around her finger, and at every snap you’d be at her beck and call. Unknowingly to her, the string she thought she was in control of was a mere facade you let her wear; the real puppeteer was closer then she thought, and what she didn’t know is that you could cut the strings at any second.

⟢ Cw: Mean!princess!dom!Female!reader x Cocky!sub!Sevika getting humbled, smut, sciccoring, subtle nipple play (all S!receiving), degradation, pussy spanking, gagging with cloth, bondage, humiliation, Reader riding Sevika’s stomach, face slapping, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, nicknames used such as: baby, whore, sweetheart, etc.

⟢ A/N: gang idk if you wanted smut or not but I added it…😓 please be specific next time twin so I can make sure I give you what you want🥹🙏

⟢ Wc: 1.4k

Sevika truly thought she had you wrapped around her thick fingers, and like a string taut against your own, she unknowingly realised you were the one pulling it.

It was humorous watching her think she was in control, it left you snickering at night after a prolonged day of Sevika embarrassing herself with the cockiness that reeked off of her.

You had no idea where she got it from.

Maybe it was from the muscles that hardened her guts into acting such a way, or the way she carried herself that gained the attraction of others, a constant swarm of fear or desire ranging in a sea of faces—but whatever it was, not once did it appeal to you.

Business and pleasure. The two should never mix? But will you be able to stay away from one another?

part one 𝜗𝜚 part two 𝜗𝜚 part three 𝜗𝜚 part four 𝜗𝜚 part five 𝜗𝜚 part six 𝜗𝜚 part seven (work in progress)

synopsis: feelings are bubbling, tensions are rising.

However, something unexpected happens.

warnings: fluff, angst, single mom! sevika, kindergarten teacher! reader, modern au, afab reader, 'ms' used to describe reader in chapters, slow burn

word count: 2.5k

a/n: first angsty chapter, how're we feeling

It's been a long while since the school's annual holiday concert, and you've noticed some things change between both you and Sevika. During pickup and drop-off at school, you'd catch onto the way Sevika’s presence lingers with you.

It’s never obvious, never something either of you acknowledge out loud, but it’s there in the small pauses; the brief eye contact held a beat too long, the low hum of familiarity that settles in whenever she’s nearby.

Your conversations stay polite and professional, yet there’s an undertone—something warm and restrained—that makes those moments feel heavier than they should. You catch yourself looking forward to seeing her, even if it’s only for a few seconds at the school gates every morning and afternoon.

Then Rue doesn’t come to school one morning.

At first, you tell yourself it’s nothing unusual—kids get sick, families get busy, sometimes a break is needed—but when her desk stays empty again and again, concern begins to creep in. You go over attendance records, noticing the pattern forming. Eventually you schedule a home visit under the guise of a routine check-in.

You tell yourself it’s just part of your job, but the thought of stepping into Sevika’s space outside of school leaves you more unsettled and oddly conflicted than you expect.

When you arrive at the house, the air feels tense right away. When the door opens, you see an unfamiliar face. The surprise throws you off balance, and for a moment you’re unsure how to proceed or whether you even got the right house.

"Oh! Sorry ma'am, I think I'm at the wrong—" you say, pulling out your phone to check the address before a familiar voice pops up from behind. "Who's that— Oh." You look up, a pair of silver eyes staring right back at you.

"Sevika.." you mumble, your chest feeling warmth upon her gaze. However, the woman in front of you seems to be rather offended about how you're staring at Sevika.

"Can I help you?" She clears her throat, her arms crossed against her chest as daggers are sent through her eyes and towards you.

"Oh!" You say, "I'm here regarding Rue, but I need to speak to Sevika as she's the sole guardian of Rue—"

"That's me," she scoffs.

You blink at her, confused. You've never seen this woman at pick up, at school events, or even listed underneath Rue's emergency contacts in the school's system. But that's when you realize that this is Rue's mother.

The same one who had abandoned both her and Sevika.

The same woman who had left poor Rue a mess in her absence.

"You're Rue's mother," you say, bewilderment lingering in your tone.

The woman’s lips curl, sharp and humourless. “Mother,” she repeats, like the word itself annoys her. “Biologically, sure.”

Behind her, Sevika shifts. It’s subtle—the scrape of a boot against the floor, the way her shoulders tense—but you feel it immediately, like a change in pressure. Her gaze never leaves you, silver eyes searching your face for something steady, something familiar and warm.

“That’s enough,” Sevika says, voice low and firm. She steps forward, placing herself just slightly between you and the woman. Not blocking you out—shielding, “I’ve got this.”

Rue’s mother scoffs again, rolling her eyes. “Always so dramatic. I was just answering the door.”

“You’re answering it now,” Sevika replies coolly. “Which is more than you’ve done in years, Sloane.”

The silence that follows is heavy, stretched tight. You clear your throat, painfully aware of how small you feel standing in the middle of something deeply personal. “I’m.. I’m here because Rue hasn’t been attending school,” you say carefully. “I— We were concerned.”

At the mention of Rue, Sevika’s jaw tightens. Her eyes flick away for a moment, then back to you. “She’s been home,” she says. “She’s safe.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you say softly. “But I’m relieved to hear that.”

Rue’s mother snorts, "see? She’s fine. No need for a.. what are you, social services? CPS?"

“I’m her teacher,” you reply, keeping your tone even. “This was meant to be a routine check-in. Also, those are the same thing—"

Sevika exhales through her nose, a slow, controlled breath. “She doesn’t need to be here,” she says, glancing at the woman with barely disguised irritation. “And neither do you.”

The woman bristles, "excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Sevika’s voice doesn’t rise, but there’s steel in it. “This isn’t your house. Not anymore.”

For a moment, it looks like Sloane might argue—but then her gaze shifts to you, lingering with something calculating. She huffs, uncrossing her arms. “Whatever. I’ve said my piece,” she steps past Sevika and into the house, brushing her shoulder on the way out like a deliberate insult. “Good luck with everything,” she adds, saccharine and sharp, before disappearing down the hall.

The quiet afterward is different—less hostile, but heavier somehow. Sevika stays still for a second, hand resting against the door, before finally turning to face you.

“Sorry you had to see that,” she says. The edge is gone from her voice now, replaced with something tired. Vulnerable.

You shake your head, "you don’t need to apologize.”

Her eyes search yours again, lingering the way they always do, only now there’s no school gate, no polite or professional distance to hide behind. Just the two of you, standing too close in the quiet of her home, with Sevika's ex-wife glaring at you within the shadows.

“…Do you want to come in?” Sevika asks after a beat. “Rue’s resting. But—” she hesitates, just for a moment, “I can make some tea.. or hot chocolate.”

There it is again—that warmth, restrained but unmistakable. And this time, you don’t pretend not to feel it.

Inside, the conversation is stiff and awkward as you ask your questions, carefully choosing your words.

"Rue's grades will suffer y'know," you sigh. "She may be only in kindergarten but consistency matters." You keep your tone neutral and professional, even as the emotional undertones in the room make it difficult to breathe.

"Listen.." Sevika says, her presence heavy and restrained. "Things have just been busy lately."

You sigh, looking down at the hallway and spotting a door that is slightly left ajar, and you can only assume that that's where Sloane has been residing.

You feel caught between them, painfully aware that this fractured family dynamic is far beyond anything you can fix. The subtle connection you felt with Sevika at school now feels fragile, almost inappropriate in this context, and the weight of that realization settles deep in your chest.

You wish to ask what's happening, why out of nowhere Sloane has come back now that Rue's gotten better. But you know that'd be deemed inappropriate, especially considering your reasoning for your current visit.

"I don't know why she's here either," Sevika sighs, pouring tea into the one cup that doesn't appear to be chipped or cracked. "She just.. showed up." You blink at her, wondering how she was able to sense your curiosity.

"Here," she says as she turns around to face you. You looked up at her as she gently handed the teacup to you, your hands both intimately grazing against one another and a lingering glance being shared throughout the encounter. ".. Rue'll be at school tomorrow," she says, pulling her scarred hand away from yours.

You smile softly at her, which seems to break down the remaining walls that were built around Sevika. "That's good to hear, thank you." Sevika nods once, sharp and decisive, like that settles the matter. But the way her shoulders remain tense tells a different story.

There’s a quiet beat where neither of you speaks. The kettle clicks softly behind her, settling back into silence, and for a moment the house feels like it’s holding its breath.

“She misses you,” Sevika says suddenly, eyes flicking toward the hallway. “Rue, I mean. She talks about you. About school.”

Your chest tightens at that. “She’s a good kid,” you reply gently. “Observant.”

Sevika huffs out something that might almost be a laugh, "too observant sometimes.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, there’s a soft shuffle of feet down the hall. The door you noticed earlier opens a little wider, and Rue peeks out, clutching the sleeve of her oversized sweater.

"Miss?" she asks quietly.

Your face softens immediately. You crouch slightly so you’re closer to her level. “Hey, Rue. I was hoping I’d get to see you.”

She smiles, small but genuine, and pads over. Sevika’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder automatically—protective, grounding. Rue leans into her without thinking, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m not sick anymore,” Rue says, earnest. “Mommy said I can go back.”

“I’m really glad,” you tell her. “We missed you.”

Rue’s eyes flick between the two of you, then she grins. “You can stay for dinner,” she announces, as if it’s already decided.

Sevika stiffens, “Rue—”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, smiling, “I don’t want to intrude.”

Rue frowns, clearly displeased with that answer, "mama makes too much food anyway.”

That earns a quiet snort from Sevika despite herself. She looks down at Rue, then back at you, something conflicted flickering across her face.

“She’s right about the food,” Sevika says. “But., you don’t have to.”

You hesitate. Part of you knows you should politely decline, keep things clean and professional. Another part—louder, warmer—doesn’t want to walk away just yet.

“.. I'll probably just head home," you sigh. "Seems that you may have some.. things to tend to tonight, Sevika."

Rue frowns and scampers back down the hall, accepting defeat and retreating back to her bedroom. The door slamming close behind her. Sevika watches her go, then exhales slowly. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “She gets attached.”

“I don’t mind,” you sigh. "I understand why."

Her gaze lingers on you again, softer now. “You should mind,” she replies quietly, "most people do.” There’s something unspoken in that sentence, something heavy with history and hurt. You don’t push. You just offer her a small, steady smile.

“Well,” you say, lifting the teacup slightly, “for what it’s worth.. I’m glad you let me come in.” Sevika studies you for a moment, silver eyes unreadable. Then she nods, just once.

“…Me too," you smile, pausing for a moment. "Anyway, I should probably.. leave." Sevika sighs, nodding and then motioning for you to head towards the front door.

"Thank you for the tea," you say as you slip your shoes on. "I hope to see both you and Rue tomorrow." Sevika nods, a soft look on her face as she examines your moves.

"Here," Sevika reaches towards the door knob carefully with her prosthetic, her calloused hand resting alongside your waist mindlessly. When the door opens, the cooling breeze from the sunset hits you and you sigh.

"Have a nice night," you smile.

Sevika nods, letting you go and that soft look on her face just staying stuck on you as you step into your car.

When you finally leave, the quiet feels louder than before. You walk away with the image of Rue’s empty desk still fresh in your mind, the tension in that house clinging to you like a shadow.

Whatever gentle hope you’d carried from those small moments at pickup and drop-off feels cracked now, dulled by reality. By the time you reach your car, your heart feels heavier than when you arrived, and you know you’re carrying a sadness you can’t easily set down.

The drive home passes in a blur you barely register. Streetlights smear across your windshield, the radio hums low and forgotten, and your thoughts keep circling back to silver eyes, a chipped teacup, a house that felt like it was holding itself together with sheer force of will.

You don’t sleep well that night.

When morning comes, it’s too early, too quiet. You go through the routine—coffee, clothes, keys—your body on autopilot while your mind lingers somewhere else entirely. You tell yourself you’re overthinking it. That this heaviness will fade once the school day starts, once routine reasserts itself.

It doesn’t.

Rue’s desk is still empty when the bell rings.

Your chest tightens before you can stop it. You glance at the attendance sheet again, just to be sure, like maybe you imagined yesterday altogether. You hadn’t. You never do.

Half an hour into the morning, there’s a knock at your classroom door.

You look up instinctively—and there she is.

Sevika stands in the doorway, Rue tucked close against her side, small fingers gripping the hem of her jacket. She looks different in daylight, in this setting—less guarded somehow, though the tension is still there, coiled beneath her skin. Her eyes find yours immediately, and something in your chest eases at the sight.

“Sorry we’re late,” Sevika says quietly. “Rough morning.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, just as softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Rue peeks around her, eyes lighting up when she sees you. “Miss!” she says, breaking free to hurry over to her desk like it stopped being hers and now she's reclaiming it.

You smile despite yourself, "good morning, Rue.”

Sevika watches the exchange from the doorway, arms crossed—not defensive this time, just uncertain. Like she doesn’t quite know where to put herself when she’s not bracing for impact.

“She do okay?” Sevika asks.

“She will,” you say, meeting her gaze. “We’ll catch her up.”

There’s a beat where neither of you move. The classroom buzzes softly around you—children settling, chairs scraping—but the space between you feels strangely insulated, like the world’s turned its volume down.

“.. Thanks,” Sevika says finally.

“For.. ?” you ask gently.

“For not pushing,” she corrects. Her jaw tightens, then loosens. “About everything.”

You nod, “I meant what I said. I’m just glad she’s back.”

Her eyes linger on your face, searching again, the same way they did in her kitchen the night before. There’s something fragile there—gratitude tangled with exhaustion, trust built carefully, brick by brick.

“I’ll pick her up early today,” Sevika says. “Just letting you know.”

“Of course."

She turns to leave, then hesitates at the door. “Last night.. ,” she starts, then stops. Shakes her head, ".. never mind, I'm disrupting your.. colouring lesson.”

You chuckle, and don’t chase the words. You don’t ask her to stay. You just offer her a small, steady smile—the same one from the night before.

“Have a good day, Sevika.”

Her lips twitch, like she’s fighting one of her own. “…You too.”

When the door closes behind her, the room feels fuller somehow. Louder. Warmer.

Rue looks up from her crayons a moment later. “My mama likes you,” she says matter-of-factly.

You blink, "oh?”

"Mommy got mad last," Rue nods, completely certain. “Because mama smiles different.”

Heat creeps up your neck. “Rue,” you say carefully, “sometimes grown-ups think things that kids don’t need to worry about.”

Rue hums, unconvinced, then goes back to colouring as if she hadn't just info-dumped on you. You straighten slowly, heart doing something unfamiliar and unsteady in your chest.

Outside, through the classroom window, you catch a glimpse of Sevika crossing the parking lot. She pauses for just a second, glancing back toward the building—toward hopefully you—before getting into her car.

Whatever’s cracked between you hasn’t broken.

Not yet.

me: