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venusvhs · 20 days ago

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𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊˚── Request: "Would you be willing to write an omegaverse sevika x reader fic where the reader has traumas from past heats and doesn’t want to be touched but sevika calms r! Down enough that they drop and can consensually take a knot"

Word Count: 3.9k Content/Warnings: omegaverse, nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, sub!reader, mentions of past sexual trauma and widespread sexual violence against omegas, mentions of reader grieving her mother, description of anxiety/panic during sex, reader has female anatomy, no pronouns/gendered terms used for reader, sev has a dick, sevika is the sweetest most patient partner ever change my mind, you trust her so much that it makes her cum lol A/N: please mind the warnings! i tried to be as sensitive as possible with this subject, and hope that it offers some comfort to anyone who has experienced something similar. thank you so much for the request, anon! i hope you enjoy <3

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚── “I remember the moment they put you on my chest like it was yesterday.”

You grit your teeth, walking past your childhood home as the last conversation you ever had with your mother strikes you like lightning.

“You had lungs of steel. I’ve still never heard a baby cry like that,” she chortled.

You chuckle to yourself, dry and humorless. Those lungs of steel are worth jack shit, now. It isn’t like you can blame anyone for keeping their heads down, though.

The sound of omegas crying for help in the back alleys of Zaun was nothing more than white noise for its residents.

“I cried harder when you started presenting, though. When I realized that my sweet baby would-”

Her voice had broken. You’d urged her not to say anything else, not to upset herself. You wish now that you’d let her. You’d give anything to have more of her words to remember, even if they were painful.

The only thing more painful than losing your mother was finding out just how cruel alphas can be without her around to help you pick up the pieces.

The bite-shaped scar on your shoulder throbs, an incessant reminder of steel lungs giving out.

You’d done everything right; you’d stayed away from dark places, you never walked the streets without a friend or two, and you never left your house during a heat. But all it took was one stupid house party, a roofied drink, and a shitty boyfriend with an inflated ego and determination to match, and by the end of the night, you realized why your mother had been so devastated to discover that you were an omega.

The world was a scary place for those like you, full of alphas who take and take and don’t take no for an answer.

You inhale sharply through your nose, blinking back hot tears as you open the back door to The Last Drop.

The grief would have to wait for now. You’ve got a double to work.

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

It’s a blistering hot summer evening in Zaun when Sevika catches sight of your bite mark for the first time. You’d finally said “fuck it,” and broken out a tank top to wear to work tonight. Even still, your cheeks are warm, and your chest shines with a thin layer of sweat.

The bar is made even clammier by all of its patrons. They’d heard that The Last Drop was one of the only places around with working A/C, but failed to consider that standing body to body would render the cool air pretty damn useless.

You roll your eyes at the large crowd and resign to sneaking away to the break room, where at least you’ve got a standing fan that kinda works.

When Sevika walks in, you’re doubled over, hanging by the hinges of your hips, fingertips barely gracing the floor. Your “Dead fucking exhausted” pose, the name courtesy of your coworkers.

“The fuck are you doing?” She grunts, but you’ve become familiar enough with Sevika to know that it’s amusement she’s expressing.

You shoot up from your toe-touch position with wide eyes and a gasp before you finally register that it’s her and let yourself relax. You’ve also learned that Sevika is one of the few alphas around who won’t pounce at you the minute you let your guard down. It’s wildly foreign to you, but welcomed, no less.

“Janna,” you exhale, slouching your shoulders and placing a hand over your heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I thought you were my manager.”

She snorts, walking past you to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

“For all intents and purposes, I am your manager,” she retorts. “And I say it’s time for you to go home.”

She opens up the plastic bottle and holds it out for you to take, which you do, albeit tentatively.

“Why?” You ask, eyes narrowed in suspicion as you take a sip.

She leans against the breakroom’s counter, crossing her arms. “You’ve been here since 10 this morning. It’s 7, now. You weren’t supposed to work a double today.”

“Yeah, well, Ekko called in sick, and I’m the only one who could cover him.”

You reach up to hook your thumb under the strap of your tank top, pulling it back in place, and that’s when it catches her eye.

The jagged scar on your shoulder.

Sevika knows an alpha’s mark when she sees one. She knows where they're supposed to go, too: right in the juncture between an omega’s neck and shoulder, where their pulse thrums, and they smell the strongest, the best.

Your mark wasn’t in that place, nor did it look like it was made carefully. She can’t help but notice that it almost looks as if you were pulling away when it was made, trying your best to escape it when the alpha’s jaws finally clamped down wherever they could.

Her body stiffens. Her nostrils flare. Sevika does not tolerate alphas who abuse their strength.

But there’s nothing she can do about it now.

“I’ll figure it out,” she finally responds. “But you should go home. Don’t need you overworked and overheating on my watch.”

You chuckle. “You know you’re not actually my manager, right?”

A grin tugs at her lips as she watches you clock out anyway. Sure, she isn't technically your manager, but she is in charge of all of Silco’s employees, including those at the bar.

That's what she tells herself, at least. She’s not ready to admit that, in actuality, she’s got a bit of a soft spot for you.

“Maybe not,” she replies, “but I take care of my people when I can.” ──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚── Sevika is a watcher; a bona fide expert in body language, microexpressions, all things unspoken. It’s what makes her so good at her job. She knows if you watch someone for long enough, keen and silent, that eventually, they’ll tell you everything you need to know about themselves.

She watches you. The way you stiffen as other alphas walk by. The way your eyes lock onto them when they get a bit too loud and get a bit too rowdy. The way your nostrils flare and your nose scrunches almost imperceptibly when they get too close, and the way you won't let them touch you at all

Even after the two of you settle into something that blurs the line between platonic and romantic, she notices that your anxiety remains, even around her.

She’s got to admit: it breaks her heart.

But a skill in observation is rendered useless without patience to match, and patience, she has plenty of.

She never touches you without permission. She never feigns irritation when you ask to watch the bartender make your drink (or insist on making it yourself altogether). She never makes you feel guilty for taking that one step away from her when you need more space.

She doesn't know what happened to you, doesn't ever pry, doesn't even expect that she'll ever see you with your guard down, and she's okay with that.

She puts in all of the work to prove that she's safe anyway.

The two of you are strolling through a busy market one afternoon when an alpha walks by, coming too close, brushing against you as he pushes through the crowd; and when your instinct is to wrap an arm tightly around her bicep, it takes everything within her not to react.

You never touch her. You hardly sit close to her, and when you do, she smells fear.

Now, you thumb over a scar on her arm, and you relax.

She relaxes you.

And you have no idea that even after all her years of selfless devotion to others, she's never been more honored to be something for someone else.

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

You’re sitting in front of Sevika, your worn cotton sheets soft against your bare lower half. Your favorite pajama shirt is still on; partly because it’s still too daunting to be completely naked around someone else, but mostly because it is really fucking comfy, and she thinks you look really fucking cute in it.

It’s what she murmurs about as she trails kisses up from your calves to your thighs. She’s lying between your legs, looking up at you with reverence; honor.

She is honored. Knows how much trust you plan on instilling in her tonight, and knows how hard you’ve worked to assure your mind and body that you can trust her.

But still, she knows it’s scary. That’s why you’re sitting up, leaning back against several pillows instead of lying down underneath her, so that you aren't trapped or caged. A physical reminder that you call the shots, that she’s at your mercy.

She might be one of the only alphas out there who dares to make themselves small for none other than an omega. It’s one of the many reasons why you love her; because your comfort has always mattered more to her than an ego boost, and she’s dedicated herself to proving that to you.

Now, here you are, threading your fingers through her hair, letting her take care of you during your heat for the very first time.

It hasn't been easy to get to this point. Most nights, you’ll end up needing to pause once or twice to remind your body that she’s safe, and some nights, you’ll end up needing to stop altogether when sudden panic hits you like a tidal wave. Through ragged breaths and watery eyes, you’ll apologize, and with a steady, low voice and a palm splayed across your chest, she refuses to accept.

“You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, doll,” she’d assure you. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Thank you for letting me know you were done.”

Sevika celebrates your no’s, and it means your yes’s come with that much more certainty.

It’s the certainty you feel now as she looks up to ask if you’re still feeling okay.

“I’m perfect,” you nod, threading your hand through her hair, “Keep going.”

She gives you a soft smile, pressing kisses against your inner thigh. Her plump lips mark an invisible path for her hands; with each peck that travels up your skin, her flesh hand follows close behind, until it rests in the crook between your thigh and your hip.

Her mouth hovers over your core; already wet for her, thanks to the near hour of riding her thigh she’d just made you do. She’d said to trust her, that the prolonged foreplay was "pivotal," and that she’s been around the block enough to know that.

You know it’s really because if you ride her thigh for long enough, she cums just watching.

She’s damn near about to cum again with her face inches away from your slick.

“You smell so fucking good,” she mutters; and her breath on your aching center has you bucking your hips, chasing more. “Taste so good, too… can I taste you, baby?”

You breathe out a “Yes,” but the hand pushing her head down speaks for itself.

“Easy,” she chuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I feel like I’m about to fucking explode,” you whine, eliciting a louder laugh from the woman below you. “You’re being such a tease…’

“I told you, sweetheart,”

Your eyes roll up into the back of your head because you already know what she’s going to say. They stay there when she sucks your clit into her mouth, rolls her tongue around the swollen bud, and releases it with a pop.

“Foreplay is pivotal.”

“That’s been your word lately, huh?” You tease through stuttering breath as she dives back in.

You’ve noticed this about your Sevika; that every now and again, she’ll hear a word that sticks- usually something big and fancy- and it makes its way into just about every other one of her sentences.

“I like how it sounds,” she mumbles into your heat.

“Yeah?” You exhale. “Well, I like how you sound eating my pussy, so if you could stick to that for now…”

She snorts, ever amused by the wit that prevails even as you start to fall apart on her mouth.

“Smartass,” she smirks against you.

“You love it.”

She sure does. Loves that you’ve never lost your bite; that you feel safe enough to bite. It means she’s done something right.

Her smirk turns into something softer, sweeter.

“I love you,” she murmurs.

She proves it from her place between your thighs.

She laps at your slick like it’s ambrosia, kneads at the flesh of your thighs like they’re her lifeline, praises you for taking her so well as she languidly pumps two thick fingers in and out of you.

It isn’t long before you find yourself on the edge, writhing underneath her, whimpers and tears escaping you.

The pull of your heat- the urge to submit- feels like sinking into warm waters. Your limbs are weightless and lead-heavy all at once, your mind fuzzy and your body buzzing. The peaceful waves of a vast sea pull you further in, deeper and deeper, coaxing you to let these waters take you as far as you’ll go.

But when you realize just how far from shore you’ve gone, you feel something like a splash of cold water on your face. Suddenly, you find yourself frantically kicking up to break the surface, gasping for air, a sob clawing at your throat as you fight against the crashing waves, and-

“Y/n?”

Sevika guides you like a lighthouse back to safety with a steady, low voice and a palm splayed across your chest.

She pulls away from your center completely, her other hand anchored to your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles into it as she speaks again.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

You choke on ragged breaths, eyes darting across the room as you try your best to drop back into your body.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” she gently instructs.

You oblige, blinking away tears and letting her face come into focus.

“Good,” she coos. “Talk to me, yeah?”

You nod, chin wobbling. “I just… just got scared. Felt like I was losing control… like I was sinking.”

She hums in understanding.

“That’s normal, sweetheart,” she explains. “Your body wants to submit, especially while you’re in heat. Haven’t had that happen yet, hm?”

“I guess not,” you exhale, brushing your hair out of your face. “Kinda freaked me out.”

Your weak chuckle brings a smile to her lips.

“Makes sense. Can be scary to let go like that.” She crawls up to hover over you, trailing the hand on your chest up to cradle the back of your head as she pulls you in for a kiss.

“What’s next, my baby?” She whispers, now peppering kisses across your face. “You wanna keep going, or you wanna call it?”

You push yourself up just a bit, and she sits back on her haunches, giving you space.

“Wanna keep going,” you nod.

“You sure?” She presses. Not with uncertainty, but only to give you each and every opportunity to say no.

“I’m sure. Wanna ride you.”

Her head rears back, eyes shamelessly trailing up and down your figure as a smirk pulls up at her lips.

“Shut up,” you mutter, playfully rolling your eyes as you tug her to sit back against the pillows.

“I didn’t say shit,” she retorts, raising her hands in surrender before they find purchase on your hips as you swing a leg over her lap.

“Your ogling said it all…”

She chortles low and deep as you settle over her. She knows this is where you like to be when you’re feeling a little nervous; that being on top feels empowering, gives you the control you need to feel safe.

And as you pull the waistband of her boxers down, work your own spit over the hardened length that stands at attention between her thighs, and slide it between your swollen lower lips, she sure as hell isn’t complaining about her current position.

“You need anything else, sweetness?” She asks breathlessly, brows knit together in pleasure as she watches you glide against her length, feels your slick coating her.

“Not after all that pivotal foreplay…”

Her chuckle gives way to a gasp when you sink down onto her. She holds on tightly to your waist, you onto her shoulders, both of your fingertips digging into the other’s skin as you begin circling your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” she grits, “not gonna last long if you keep moving like that.”

“Good,” you sigh; and she groans when you lift yourself off of her length only to slam back down again. “Want you to come inside…”

Self-control is another skill Sevika has honed almost impossibly so, but it sure as hell takes a lot of it for her not to wreck you, pistoning her hips up and bringing you down to meet her every thrust. The thought itself makes her cock twitch; and when the sensation pulls an airy moan from you, she grits her teeth, throws her head back against the pillows behind her, and wonders why in Janna’s name she’s having such a hard time keeping it together this time around.

She’s not supposed to be in rut yet; not for another week.

But you look like a goddess, feel like velvet, and smell like desperation.

You, in this state alone, are enough to send even the strongest alpha into an early rut.

Her cock throbs inside of you, damn near painful, and she suddenly realizes that’s exactly what’s happening.

“Baby, baby,” she suddenly pants, gripping your waist hard enough to still your movements.

The concern on her face sobers you.

“What’s wrong?” you urge.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” she quickly assures, though her brows are still pulled together. “I just… I don’t wanna get carried away. Think my…”

Sevika doesn’t blush. Instead, the tips of her ears get hot, and when you push soft, black hair behind one, you feel it.

Embarrassment, warm and undeniable.

“Think my rut started early,” she resigns, eyes landing everywhere but on you.

“Oh,” you exhale in relief, having thought something was wrong.

And then, you mull over what this means. You know how a rut works; know it usually ends in a knot, and that the last time you took one of those was the last time you let an alpha get within 10 feet of you before meeting Sevika.

But then you met Sevika.

And she’s everything he wasn’t. The antithesis to your mother’s warnings.

This is your Sevika. Who you love. Who you trust.

“Can we keep going?” You finally ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes finally shoot up to land on you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can keep myself from-”

“I know. I’m okay with that. I want it.”

She isn’t quick enough to school her surprised expression, earning a giggle from you.

“You’re sure?”

You lean down to place a kiss on her nose. She hisses when the movement causes her to shift inside of you.

“I’m sure,” you nod; and then, you lean in to whisper against a warm ear,

“Want your knot, please.”

She nearly growls when you resume your movements, rocking your hips back and forth, taking as much of her as you can. You’re a whimpering mess just a few minutes later, eagerly riding the length in between her legs.

“Holy mother of Janna,” she husks, trying her best to keep her hips in place, “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You start mumbling something… an indiscernible whine at first, but when she's finally able to make it out, her resolve shatters like glass.

“Give it to me,” you babble. “Give it to me, please… please, Sevika; fuck me, fuck me, fuck m-”

You yelp as she bends her knees, plants her heels into the mattress, and fucks into you like there’s no gods damned tomorrow.

There might not be. Like she said: you’re gonna be the death of her.

“How’s that, my baby?” She rasps.

You nod frantically against her shoulder, limp in her arms, a myriad of yes’s spilling from your lips.

“Look at that,” she croons, “taking me so fucking well.”

One arm wraps around your waist. The other sneaks beneath your pajama shirt, trailing up with an open palm and eventually settling around the back of your neck with a firm grip.

“Take it,” she grits. “Take me, take me, take me."

You bite down on her shoulder as the coil in your belly tightens. You’re so close, hand shooting down to rub tight circles on your slick-covered clit, drooling all over her.

“There we go,” she drawls. “Good job, baby, touching yourself for me. You gonna come for me, too?

She throws her head back again, sucking air in through her teeth, doing everything she can to hold off on giving you her knot until you’ve ridden out your own release. She nearly loses control, hips stuttering when she feels your walls constrict around her.

A choked moan escapes you, waves of pleasure rocking through you, body twitching against her own. You come back down with shallow gasps, and she runs her hand up and down your back, speaking as tenderly as she touches you.

“Easy,” she coos, “Easy, doll. Deep breaths for me, yeah?”

A request that’s entirely hypocritical, considering her own labored breathing.

You oblige anyway, burying your face further in the crook of her neck and breathing in the smell of home before letting your body go limp on exhale.

You reach up to run your fingers through her hair.

“I’m okay,” you exhale again. “Let go, baby. I’m okay.”

“You sure? I can pull out. 'S not too late.”

You rock your hips against the length still sheathed within you, encouraging her knot.

“I trust you, Sev.”

She comes with a whimper.

Your eyes widen when you feel the stretch of her knot inside of you. She feels you tense and gives your hips a reassuring squeeze, placing kiss after kiss against your hairline.

“Relax, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Her thumbs rub circles into your skin, yielding only when her knot finally stops swelling a few minutes later.

“How you feelin’, doll?” She purrs

A contented sigh escapes you. “Good,” you croak. “Really good."

You miss the bright grin that breaks out on her face from your place on her shoulder

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod against her. “I like it.”

“Good, baby.” She can’t hide the excitement lacing her words. “Good… I’m glad.”

You hum, lips quirking up into a smile. You’re so relaxed that it’s all you can amass.

And when her knot goes down nearly half an hour later, she finds that you’ve fallen asleep.

Her heart wrenches. Sevika’s the first to know that sleep doesn’t come easily unless you feel safe.

She doesn’t dare wake you; just cradles your head with one hand and traces mindless patterns on your back with the other, reveling in the honor of being your safe place.

And, once more, you have no idea that even after all her years of selfless devotion to others, she's never been more honored to be something for someone else.

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

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