Chapter 3: Fanfic and Finger Blasting

Jahkiah didn’t know whether to scream, moan, or log this entire experience into her private Notes app titled “Horny Lesbian Dreams I’ll Never Admit To.”

Because Sahara — demon warlord, mafia matriarch, walking gay panic — was straddling her.

On a throne.

In hell.

With claws grazing her thigh like she was a cinnamon roll made of thirst and chaos.

“You’re trembling,” Sahara whispered, low and lethal.

“I—uh—I’m just cold,” Jahkiah squeaked, despite the surrounding flames of eternal damnation licking the walls like hell was sponsored by Nando’s Extra Hot™ sauce.

Sahara smirked. Her fingers danced slowly down Jahkiah’s arm, leaving a trail of fire and gay regret.

“I know what you want, Jahkiah.”

“You do?” she gasped.

“Yes,” Sahara purred. “You want plot with just enough smut to make your readers question their morals.”

Jahkiah’s brain blue-screened. “…HOW DID YOU KNOW.”

Sahara leaned down, their lips nearly touching. “I read your work.”

A long silence.

Then—

“Oh my god,” Jahkiah groaned, face turning red, “You read Chapter 7, didn’t you?!”

“I did.”

“THAT WASN’T CANON, IT WAS A CRACK FIC—”

“In which I use my demon tail to—”

“STOPPPP!”

Sahara only laughed, throat deep and rich like a cursed espresso. She ran a claw along Jahkiah’s bottom lip. “You’re even cuter when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m gonna throw up. But like… romantically.”

And then Sahara grabbed her hand.

“Let me show you what fanfiction can’t capture,” she whispered, before pressing Jahkiah’s palm to her chest — directly over her black, demon-glowing heart.

It was beating hard. Fast. Wild.

Jahkiah blinked. “Are you… nervous?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sahara muttered. “I’m a seven-thousand-year-old war goddess.”

“Yeah well, I’m a 21-year-old Gemini with attachment issues and a Tumblr archive.”

Suddenly — CRASH.

The throne room doors burst open.

A masked assassin in red stilettos stormed in, twirling twin daggers like lesbian batons.

“I’VE COME TO KILL THE QUEEN AND STEAL HER THRONE!”

Jahkiah blinked. “Oh my god, is that your ex?”

Sahara sighed. “Yes. That’s my ex-wife. She’s a Sagittarius. Don’t engage.”

But Jahkiah had already stood up.

She reached into her Hello Kitty purse, pulled out a bedazzled pepper spray can, and blasted it directly into the assassin’s face.

The assassin screamed.

“IS THAT… STRAWBERRY?”

“It’s custom,” Jahkiah smiled sweetly. “Limited edition lesbian defense.”

Sahara stared at her, stunned. A little bit turned on.

“…You’re unhinged.”

“You summoned me, mommy,” Jahkiah winked.

The assassin retreated, screaming and cursing in ancient Latin (and possibly French).

Jahkiah turned back to Sahara, chest heaving.

Sahara was already stalking toward her like a panther in Prada.

She grabbed Jahkiah by the collar and shoved her back onto the throne.

“You finger blasted my ex-wife with perfume,” she said, breathless.

“And I’d do it again.”

“I should destroy you.”

“You won’t.”

And then—finally—Sahara kissed her.

It was chaos. Tongues. Fangs. Lip gloss. Years of pent-up fanfic tension exploding like a slow-burn fic reaching the smut chapter after 120k words of yearning.

Jahkiah moaned into her mouth, clutching Sahara’s waist like a dying woman grabbing the last mozzarella stick.

Sahara growled against her lips. “You’re mine now, little writer.”

“Y-yeah. Okay. Cool. Mommy? Sorry? Mommy?”

They broke apart only when Glen, the demon assistant, awkwardly cleared their throat.

“There’s a war meeting in 10 minutes, boss.”

Sahara wiped her lips. “Cancel it.”

“But the fate of the underworld—”

“I said CANCEL IT.”

Jahkiah grinned, cheeks flushed, thighs quaking.

She whispered, “So… does this make me your canon love interest?”

Sahara’s eyes glowed crimson.

“Baby,” she smirked. “You just became endgame.”