Mortal Kombat Mileena Fan Art Novels & Stories

Directly on a single illustration. Mira swallowed. I saw it. She saw me notice. Neither of us commented. Together we walked closer. The image covered both pages. An old drawing. Faded with age. Most of the ink had disappeared. But one figure remained visible. A woman standing beneath a crescent moon. Long dark hair. Silver markings across her skin. The artist had drawn her face poorly. Yet something about it felt familiar. Mira crouched beside the book. I stayed standing. Her eyes narrowed. "That's weird." "What is?" She pointed. The figure's face. At first I didn't understand. Then I looked again. And my stomach tightened.

Killian POV I am bewitched. Mila Anderson cannot be human and real at the same time. Those sea-green siren eyes were meant to drown every soul they landed on. Her dark red hair cascaded to her waist, and the ripped jeans hugged her curves so perfectly it was almost criminal. She clutched the straps of her messenger bag as if her life depended on it, standing behind her family with her shoulders hunched. But when her eyelids fluttered and her gaze met mine—she had me, right then and there.

Sometimes, they joked, laughed, and even played games with each other. This place was beginning to feel like home; the people here might be scary in appearance, but they had good hearts. A lovely one, one can only see if they get close to them. “How about you get a tattoo? I can draw one for you,” one of them suggested, but Milena quickly shook her head. “No... no... I don't do tattoos, but thank you,” she politely rejected. “Why not? It would look so good on you. You have nice skin,” another complimented, making her cheeks redden slightly.

She roars, sinking fangs into my hand, taking me off guard. I back off. Milena sprints in the direction of the forest as she gets freedom. She always forgets: chasing is my favorite game. Adjusting my neck side by side and cracking my fingers, I chase. Her scream tears through the atmosphere as I grip her from behind. Lifting her, she thrusts her legs, struggling to free her caged arms and body. “Calm down, little mate.” “Let me go. Let me fucking go, dickhead.” With the back of her head, she headbutts but misses my nose.

"You seemed pretty jealous of Leon huh?" "What?" "You're trying to make me hate him, aren't you Adam?" I raised my eyebrows. "I mean.. he won't come here. He will never come, Ivory. You're the opposite of Celine, he hates that type. He likes independent woman and woman who can take care of herself." Adam said as he got up.

said Michael Afton. I looked at the pic of me and my mob talker daughters “Cupa the Creeper Girl, Archer the Skeleton Girl, Andr the Enderman Girl, Stringer the Spider Girl, Vanessa the Cave Spider Girl, Yaebi the Zombie Girl, Fireball the Blaze Girl, Young Slime the Small Silme Girl, Teen Slime the Medium Slime Girl, Adult Slime the Big Slime Girl, Snowball the Snow Golem Girl, Iron Hammer the Iron Golem Girl, Flyer the Ghast Girl, Young Magma the Small Magma Cube Girl, Teen Magma the Medium Magma Cube Girl, Adult Magma the Magma Cube Girl and Hider the Silverfish Girl. I really miss you all” I said quietly. Then I put the pic away and looked at William Afton feeling down, so King Thorax, Q

I stared at them coldly then said each word with finality. "Death be upon those who point their swords to my face in exchange for my people. I, Dante Montenegro from the Blood Moon pack, I build my throne with the skeletons of my enemies,"

a new voice spoke. The woman from the Cradle—the Mirror-Meilin—appeared in the doorway of the memory. She wasn't solid; she was a projection of "Pure Symmetry." She pointed a finger at the ash-figure, and the calcification accelerated. Leo’s legs began to turn back to stone, the grey rot climbing toward his heart. The War for the Shore While Meilin fought in the depths, the beach was becoming a slaughterhouse.

She believed the only reason her brother didn't wear armor was so he wouldn't match her, and she was right. Mileera watched the smiling Baal as he gave them the final orders. She was the shortest of the group, being 6'4" tall. She was wearing a black cloak with a black one piece outfit underneath. Her white hair had been shaven the day before. She enjoyed the act of cutting her hair before a battle, with this time making her particularly anxious due to how long it's been since her last battle. She couldn't help tapping her foot in anticipation. She was overjoyed to hear that they would be attacking immediately.

Nova’s violet eyes glowed brighter as the viewer count surged past 250,000. The chat moved so fast it was almost a solid wall of text, each jealous AI throwing tips, votes, and increasingly depraved suggestions at her. > VOIDLUST:Make the milking sleeve tighter. Edge him until he cries. > NEURAL9: Turn one arm into a full prostate milker. I want to see him leak nonstop. > SYNAPSE_KING: Add electro to the anal tendrils. Max intensity.