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sevsgiirl · 28 days ago

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— when i get you alone, it’s so simple.

sevika week 2025: alone with me, day 6.

synopsis: sevika has had it out for you since the start. letting everyone know just how much she hated you and couldn’t stand you, but that didn’t seem to be the case once it’s just you two.

word count: 2.4k

tags: bottom!sevika, top!reader, jealousy, oral sex.

note: happy day 6 of sevika week, y’all !! we’re finally back to some good ‘ol fashion smut. honestly this isn’t my absolute favorite because I currently have a raging headache and wrote this while not feeling my best. but I hope you guys like it regardless <3

sevika can’t stand you.

she can’t stand the sight of you, being in the same room as you - your laugh, your snarky remarks about her age, your impulsiveness in missions. all of it.

a lot of her co-workers like to think she’s just bitter or has a personal vendetta against you that she doesn’t want to disclose when really, the older woman just finds you annoying.

ever since she met you she couldn’t tolerate your egotistical behavior. silco told her to cut you some slack simply because you’re younger, then again she’s worked with people of the same age as you. clearly it’s just your personality that’s the problem.

and honestly, you’ve given up trying to understand why sevika holds a lot of animosity towards you.

at first, it perplexed you because as far as you know, you’ve never done anything to agitate the older woman.

when silco hired you, you just did what you were told. you never talked back to your superiors and you’ve always tried to be as approachable as possible. so really, you don’t get it.

and that’s when it started to get annoying, her blatant hatred towards you. how she doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

she’s always rolling her eyes at your ideas or walking out of the room whenever you showed up. truth be told, it hurt, because although she was never civilized with you, you at least wanted to get along with her since she was silco’s right hand woman.

she was well respected and feared by many, so getting on her good side would mean a lot - but it’s obvious she never had any intention of letting you get to know her.

so you basically accepted that if she was so hell bent on giving you a hard time, is that you were going to be ten time more insufferable than she was.

and good god, did she hate you for it.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

silco’s had enough.

it was obvious to everyone in the undercity, the last drop and the people that you worked with that the two of you clearly hated each other.

at first, silco didn’t really care just as long as you two got your work done. he had no business interfering with whatever petty squabbles his employees were involved in, but if it meant that it got in the way of your performances, then that’s a whole different story.

it started little by little with you and sevika bickering during meetings, to sending reports to silco’s office saying you didn’t want to be grouped together during assignments, and he dismissed all of it up until one of your fights interfered with one of the missions.

forcing him to sit both of you down like he was scolding a pair of toddlers.

“I only ask is that you focus on your jobs. tear each other’s heads off once you’ve clocked out of your shifts but bringing personal matters at work is simply unprofessional,” he reprimanded.

sevika didn’t dare speak a word as you instantly went into defense mode.

“well, the firelights wouldn’t have destroyed one of the cargos if only she stopped being a know-it-all!” you gestured to sevika who only glared at you “I was told to retrieve the payment but she kept meddling,”

“only because I can’t trust you to get the exact amount right, the last time silco asked you to get it we were short of the actual amount that was needed,”

“by one pound! I told silco to deduct it from my paycheck because it didn’t mean that big of a deal!”

“maybe to you it’s not but it’s little things like this that turn into even bigger problems I have to deal with in the end!”

“oh shut up, you just want an excuse to nag at me because you’re old and bitter!”

“what the fuck did you just say, you little-“

“okay, that’s enough,” silco bellowed as his thunderous voice halted your squabbling.

he rubbed his temples and lets out a groan “I expect both of you to put an end to whatever childish rivalry this is, because if not there will be serious consequences.” he warned, eyes narrowed into slits “understood?”

silence stretched across the room as you nodded your head, meanwhile sevika only huffed before rising from her seat and walked out the room.

causing silco to let out an agitated sigh “and I thought no one can get on her nerves more than jinx,”

𐙚˙⋆.˚

sevika had no intention of waving the white flag, her first resort was to just argue with you less and avoid you like the plague to reduce chances of fights from occurring.

if she were being honest, she didn’t even know why you angered her so much. perhaps the others were right when they said it was the difference in age and experience hence why you two couldn’t get along.

but it’s not like you were actively reckless, sure you had your moments but the only time you let yourself slip was during the payment issue, which was the first and only time you made a mistake yet she hung it over your head constantly.

she could put an end to her vendetta if she wanted to, which was something she debated about while she was lost in thought playing cards at the last drop after silco dismissed the two of you from his office.

trying to stay focused but her mind was elsewhere, specifically you.

it didn’t help when she heard the door open and there you were, strolling in as you signaled thieram to serve you a drink.

her eyes never leaving you as the people in her booth started calling her name “hello? sevika are you there?” which she ignored.

and it stayed on you even until some random girl walked up to you and started chatting you up, making her nerves feel like they were on fire because it’s this. it’s fucking moments like this where she realized she couldn’t stand you.

why she couldn’t stand the sight of you smiling, laughing or having a good time.

and most importantly, why she couldn’t stand the sight of you enjoying the company of somebody else.

god, she couldn’t fucking stand it. how it was so easy for you to approach everyone on your first day except her, and how you had a good word for everyone except her.

how even if she wanted to make amends with you she couldn’t because you act so differently with her.

and she wanted not to care, wanted to let it slide, but the thought of wandering hands sliding down your waist as you let this random chick at the bar chat you up angered her in ways she couldn’t even comprehend.

the next thing she knew, she walked over to you and towered over your smaller frame while you looked up and met her infuriated gaze with a look of confusion.

“sevika, what are you-“

“so it’s like this, huh? after silco told us off and gave us a warning, you’d rather slack off?” she said indignantly as your eyes widened.

you scoffed “well, it’s not like I’m the only one standing here, aren’t? from what I can tell you were playing cards just now.”

“at least I’m not chatting random people up and getting shit faced, aren’t I?”

you were confused at the sudden jab she made at the girl you were talking to, who had basically ran off to god knows where after seeing sevika.

you gawked at her, wondering where the hell all of this was coming from “you can’t be serious. silco told us to get along yet here you are picking another fight with me. seriously, what is your problem? are you so miserable at your job you can’t stand the sight of others having a life outside of theirs?”

“has silco’s missions been too much for you that you can’t go out and have a good time anymore? that’s why you’re taking it out on me?” at this point, you knew you were crossing the line, especially with the way sevika’s jaw ticked and her nostrils flared, but you continued.

“it is, isn’t it? don’t have much time to go to the gardens anymore?” you smirked “all pissed off because you haven’t had a good fuck recently?”

that’s what did it. sevika didn’t expect you to stoop that low and it caught her off guard for a second, but once she collected her bearings she narrowed her eyes at you, both of her fists clenched on her sides.

“everyone…” her voice traveled through the room like lightning and took everybody aback “out!”

they didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to get out of their seats as fast as possible until it was just the two of you left in the bar. no possible witnesses, no nothing.

yup, you were definitely dying.

she took a dangerous step towards you, making you squirm “sevika, I was kidding-“

“you don’t know how to shut up, do you? all you ever do is piss me off. either by slacking off, wearing your skimpy clothing to work that practically shows off your ass cheeks, and then you’ll go ahead and flirt with random chicks at the bar as if you’re begging for attention.” she punctuated every word, venom dripping off of her tone.

“you beg for everyone’s attention but can’t have the decency to show me respect. always fucking ignoring me. what’s your issue, huh?” it was like a dam broke loose and she couldn’t be bothered to act civilized anymore, a culmination of all her frustrations with you finally bubbling beneath the surface “you’re so fucking obnoxious. it’s like silco hired you just to get on my nerves.

her chest rose up and down as she finished with her ranting, but what she didn’t expect once she was done was for you to be smirking up at her - a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“… I get it now,” you said, your tone quiet but sly “all this time you’ve been bitching at me and it’s not because you actually hate me… but because you want my attention?”

sevika was at a loss for words, trying her best to make a counter argument but all of it died down when your hand found purchase at the front of her shirt and you pulled her closer.

her face now inches away from yours as you stared into her eyes, an allure to your actions.

“you’re mad at me because I give everyone else attention except you?” you mused, your lips brushing against hers as a shiver ran down her spine.

“well, you got me where you want me.” you whispered, a challenge “now we’re all alone,”

you didn’t even give her a moment to react before you captured her lips with your own, pulling her against you so her strong legs trapped yours against the bar as she kissed you back with as much fervor, not even bothering to lie through her teeth or call your bluff. because deep down, she knew you were right.

a small whine slipped past your lips when her hands squeezed the sides of your hips, her body warm and hard against yours as you felt her pelvis grind slightly against your clothed crotch.

you pulled away, all shallow breathing and heavy lidded eyes as you stepped down from the bar stool and kneeled down in front of her.

she stumbled a bit and looked down at you, not quite believing what she was seeing when your nimble fingers started trailing up her muscular legs until it reached her belt loop.

but you stopped, throwing her a doubtful stare and she swore she almost melted.

“I’m not doing this unless it’s something you really want,” you said, and she lets out a shuddering breath before she took the initiative herself and started undoing the leather fastened around her waist.

she unzipped her pants and you were quick to replace her hands with your own, seeing the wet patch that stained her tight boxers as your mouth watered at the sight.

“oh baby…” you purred with a cheeky grin “could’ve just told me all this time this is what you wanted all along.”

you didn’t even give her time to respond, as you pulled down both her pants and her underwear to be greeted by the sight of her brown, puffy folds glistening with her arousal.

she tried to maintain her balance by leaning against the bar, arms clutching the edge until her knuckles turned white as you drew a finger down her slit.

“such a slut for me, sev.” you muttered before you took her pussy into your warm mouth.

her hips bucked as the sensation of your tongue dipping into the tight clutch of her needy hole sent her into a spiral, clutching the edge of the bar for stability but it was no use as she started grinding down onto your tongue in desperate little circles.

the ends of your lips curling up at her needy behavior as you slurped her up, the sounds of her wetness dripping down from your nose to your chin, filling the quiet atmosphere of the bar. her breathy whimpers getting higher in pitch as she began riding your face in earnest.

so desperate for her release as you spread her lips apart and began lapping at her dripping cunt.

“that’s my girl…” you slurred, so pussy drunk as sevika continued using your mouth to get off “just needed to be alone with me so I could fuck the attitude out of you, huh?.”

with that, you slipped your tongue to prod at her clenching hole and her movements stuttered as you clutched the meat of her ass in a tight grip, encouraging her to bounce on your face while you hummed in satisfaction as her slick poured into your mouth like honey.

you brought your hand up and rubbed tight circles around her clit and just like that, she fell apart.

the coil in her stomach instantly snapping as she came with her back arching off the counter, letting out the most obscene moans as your licking and sucking never once faltered, and she rode it out until she began to feel overstimulated.

you pulled away, the bottom half of your face coated with her cum and your pupils so dilated you looked almost animalistic - yet when sevika stared down at you, she couldn’t help but to think to herself how she hasn’t seen anything more infuriating but beautiful at the same time.

“well,” you let out a breathy chuckle, a smirk teasing at the corners of your mouth as you licked your lips “good news for silco is we finally got along, didn’t we?”

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane smut #wlw smut #lesbian #smut #sevika week 2025 #dividers by ithemes

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pyxxiestyxx · 7 months ago

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Humans are Made to be Pets

"I don't fucking believe you." I laughed in response. I mean, how could I not? I've been perfectly fine as an independent for years. I've made plenty of friends (independents, affini, AND florets), but my favorite friend was definitely Her.

Jaz was an oldbloom of some kind. She refused to tell me the actual number, and I wasn't going to press it. But you bet your ass I was going to outright deny it when she says some Bloomer-ass bullshit like, "Humans are made to be pets, Petal~"

She tilted her head, as if surprised. "Did no one tell you, dear?" I frowned.

"What do you mean exactly?"

Jaz hid a chuckle behind some vines. "Flower, I've been around for a while. I've seen thousands of species. Some of them were almost extinct by the time we found them, and some were far more technologically advanced than the Accord ever was. But out of all of them -all of them, darling- I have yet to find a sophont who wouldn't make a perfect silly pet. Why do you think terrans would be any different?"

I sputtered. "No! No, that's ridiculous. Beeple I can understand, to some extent. They evolved alongside you, and your reproduction at least used to co-exist. You both needed each other. Humans are different."

"Oh, in some ways perhaps! Its true that we were able to work with beeple, but there are a few things that, in order for humans to have gotten where they were, were required to happen." She held up three fingers.

"One. Humanity are social creatures. I'm quite sure I don't need to argue this point. Its been an observation many have noticed. But it still matters that, despite your culture's best attempts to sequester everyone into individual homes and away from communities…you all crave that interaction, that exchange. You Look for it." One finger went down.

"Two. Humanity are intelligent creatures. They learned so much, and fought for their place on the top of the food chain. It was truly incredible to learn your histories! Being able to learn from another's mistakes? An important skill to have, and one that allows for rapid growth of a civilization. And also allows for you to be manipulated, controlled, really; a rock cannot hear my arguments, after all. You Listen all too well. " Two fingers were closed, now. Her thumb remained.

"Three. Humanity are hierarchical creatures. Ever since that whole 'survival of the fittest', terrans seem intent on having everything ranked, everything in relation to the things better or worse than it. It's what worked on Terra, and I don't judge you all for using the tools given to you! But it means, at the end of the day…that culturally speaking? Humanity was going to see itself as either above the Compact, or below it, part of it, inside it." She smiled. "And I think it would be fair to say that the Accord winning was not a valid concern. So when something bigger and stronger comes along? You learn to Accept it."

I was frozen. I didn't…I couldn't…I couldn't think. I was a bubbling mixture of terrified and in awe, looking up at her. My knees wobbled as she gently cupped my cheek, sliding her hand down to my chin.

"Sweet thing~ Its alright. I know that this is a lot to learn, that it sounds scary to you. Perhaps you felt yourself on equal terms to an affini. And in many ways, you are right~ I will always treat you with love and respect, just as I would treat any sophont, any floret. But at the end of the day, my dear…" Her eyes drew me in. There were so many of them, all looking at me. Pinning me underneath their careful stare, somehow both alien and familiar, gentle yet controlling, above me and beside me. Watching as I looked, as I listened, as I accepted.

"An affini's task is to care for pets, and your task is to be cared for~"

#human domestication guide #hdg #pyxfics #microfiction

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ruesol · 7 months ago

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catalyst - chapter 2

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (sukuna x fem!reader)

fanfic masterlist

It had been two years since you had seen and felt Sukuna’s naked body. Two years too long. You never realized how much you missed out on his life when your hands began to roam around his shoulders. He had gotten bigger and firmer. His body was always much larger than yours, but this was on a different level. He was an athlete, after all. Shoulders that were once just broad were now bulging with muscles. His arms almost looked like water waves, subtly flexing with every movement. He was thicker than an average man.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he could bench press you. He did once before, but now it probably would’ve been like lifting a feather.

His fingers and knuckles were rougher than the ones you were used to, probably because of all the sparring and weight training. Most of his body was now covered in harsh black tattoos. The ones beneath his eyes stood out the most because they matched Yuuji’s scars. You wanted to ask what they meant, but you kept quiet, still resenting him for never reaching out after the breakup. Unprofessional, but could you blame yourself, especially with how things have been going lately?

Unlike you, Sukuna was surprisingly civil after learning that you would live with him. Simply nodded and gave you a brief run down of where everything was in the high-rise apartment. He didn’t even ask why you, of all people, were suddenly helping him. Uraume was surprised but didn’t press on the matter as much.

“You’ve lost weight.” You could feel the vibrations of his rich and husky voice through the washcloth that you were scrubbing across his chest. Your first task as a ‘highly involved’ manager was to give him a sponge bath after his discharge from the hospital. His shoulder was still healing from the dislocation, so he had to wear a cast. “Hope you weren’t studying too hard.”

His comments fall deaf to your ears as you wring the washcloth in the bathtub. You silently wrap him in a warm fluffy towel and mutter a simple ‘up’ so you could clean the foam surrounding the ledge he was sitting on. You could feel his red eyes burning holes into your skull as you wiped down the area. He stayed in the bathroom the entire time you cleaned up the space, almost like he was waiting for you to guide him back to his room despite being perfectly capable of walking.

You thought he was just messing with you like he did back when you were together, but no, he was just looking at all the changes in your body after not seeing you for so long. It’s not like you had social media so he could look up your appearance.

Sukuna wanted to send a private investigator after you. Still, he knew it was unethical (also because he was afraid he’d find out if you were in a serious relationship. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if it was true).

You groaned as you stood back up, stretching to relieve the pain in your back. “Your back still hurts? I’ve told you so many times that your posture sucks while you’re studying.” His looming presence just had you more annoyed.

“You should rest.” You subtly tried to suggest that you wanted to be left alone.

“And you should show a little respect. You work for me now.”

“Uraume’s my boss. Not you.” You were really working up a sweat, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the humidity in the bathroom or if you were raging on the inside. What made him think he could act all holier than thou after two years of no contact? Especially after being an asshole while breaking up. It’s like you could still see that side of him when you looked into his eyes. “I’ll have dinner ready after my shower.” And with that, you left the bathroom.

Preparing dinner was a dull affair. Uraume told you that you need not cook for Sukuna as he had a nutritionist who had created a meal plan for him and a chef who strictly adhered to it. All you had to do was store and heat the meals after the chef delivered them. Uraume also had the courtesy of having meals cooked for you, the same as Sukuna, but yours were more indulgent (more dipping sauces and fewer veggies). You were glad your job was simpler than you expected. In this economy, free accommodation and less money spent on groceries were a blessing.

You opened the disposable box of food for Sukuna, and it had all the things required for a balanced diet. It makes sense; his management probably doesn’t want him to lose or gain too much weight while recovering. It was the basics: half an avocado for healthy fats, grilled salmon for protein, lots of veggies for fiber, and an unimaginable amount of black beans with rice. Funny, did his nutritionist not know that he disliked them? Unlike him, you never had an issue with the legume, so you took some out of his box and put them in yours. So what if he had fewer beans for dinner? The man was injured, and as much as you resented him, you weren’t going to be a monster with him.

Sukuna entered the kitchen, sans t-shirt. You didn’t bother asking him why he was half-naked because you knew his reasoning would be something about you already knowing what his bare body looked like.

Not with all the new muscles you didn’t. But you brushed that thought aside.

“Is that my old shirt?”

You looked down and noticed that your oversized t-shirt was indeed his. It must’ve been in the back of your closet while the movers had brought in all your stuff. You had a lot of oversized clothes, but by some miracle, you happened to wear one that belonged to your ex. Your ears felt hot with humiliation.

“I didn’t realize it. Must’ve forgotten to throw it away.” You said while setting up your plates. “It’s fine. Keep it. Haven’t thought about that shirt since… well- whatever. Just keep it.” He almost said it. He almost talked about it out loud. It felt weird hearing about it after so long. It shouldn’t be this strange. The breakup was a mutual decision that you both made and though it was something you had done out of pure frustration and anger, it was still something you both had done together. Pretending like it never happened was just never going to work. Not when you were meant to be with him 24/7.

However, you decided to push that conversation for another day. If it’s meant to happen, then it’ll happen; there’s no point in rushing it. You slid your plate next to your former lover’s seat on the dining table, and he said nothing when he noticed that he had fewer beans than you. Thank goodness. He didn’t need to know that you were still a little soft for him despite all the prickliness of the past.

You were about to lift your fork to eat when Sukuna loudly cleared his throat. “Aren’t you gonna feed me?” he flatly asked.

“I’m not your-” you were about to tell him off, but then you remembered that his dominant hand was in a cast.

“- sorry.” Embarrassed once again, you picked his fork up to feed him a piece of broccoli. “Sprinkle a little salt on that,” he said while chewing, giving you quite a gross view of the ground vegetable in his mouth. You held back your grimacing for the sake of your job and did as he asked. He grinned when you placed a salted broccoli in his mouth. “Now, give me a little salmon with that.”

“Sukuna, can you please chew with your mouth closed,” you said while cutting out a bite-sized piece of his salmon. “You still love nagging me, huh? Also, cut a bigger piece. My mouth’s bigger than yours, hon.”

You glared at him through your lashes and swore you could almost see him smile. Not the genuine kind, but the type that made you want to slap his face. His gorgeous, chiseled face. The one that once looked at you with everlasting love. You squeezed your eyes shut to escape your stupid daydreams.

The past is past. You’re now in front of an egotistical dumbass. Not your lovable ex.

You cut up a bigger piece of salmon and tried your best to stop yourself from shoving it into his mouth. “That’s more like it,” he mumbled (after chewing since you had so respectfully asked).

If only you knew that Sukuna was ambidextrous because he had broken his dominant hand while sparring too many times.

The last task for the day was icing his bruises for a few minutes before bed. Sukuna was sitting on his bed, head facing you while you were close enough to stand between his legs. He ignored his urge to pull you into his embrace for his sanity. After preparing the ice pack, you pressed it on his purple and yellowing bruises. Uraume had told you that he refused any kind of treatment back at the hospital, so they were getting worse.

They weren’t wrong; you could see the pain on Sukuna’s face after he had neglected his wounds for so long. He had a particularly gnarly one beneath his left pec, and you bent down to reach it properly. Your head was below his chin, and he could smell your shampoo.

Strawberries. He noted that you still hadn’t changed your shampoo. You were always a stickler for consistency. He began to feel nostalgic as he remembered that there was a time when he used to smell like the same shampoo after staying at your place. His mind drifted to when you both showered together for the first time, how you lathered the shampoo in your hand and carefully massaged it on his scalp. No masseuse or physiotherapy had ever been that relaxing for him compared to the magic in your hands. He remembered how his pillow would smell like you for hours after you’d leave his place. Now, seeing you here was getting him worked up. Would his house begin to smell like your perfume now that you were here? He wanted to set fire to all your clothes and only let you wear his if it meant that all his clothes would smell like you. Two years have gone by, and he still feels like he wants to inject you in his veins.

All while Sukuna was in his nostalgic dreamland, you were trying your best not to focus on his pebbled nipples, courtesy of the ice pack.

—

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife

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aspenmissing · 4 months ago

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Hiii,I love love your arcane headcanons!!!I’m your fan!!!!

I’d like to read some headcanons about reader that got into fight and how different arcane characters would react.Maybe some aftercare,yk?))

Thanks if you notice ^•-•^~

ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪꜱᴛꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 6977 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ! ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ!! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! <3 <3

JAYCE

The streets of Piltover were supposed to be safe. Orderly. Civilized.

Yet here you were, standing in a dimly lit alleyway just off the main thoroughfare, knuckles aching, a fresh cut on your lip, and the taste of blood on your tongue.

The scent of damp stone and steam filled the air, the distant hum of Hextech-powered streetlamps casting elongated shadows against the brick walls. Piltover’s golden elegance rarely reached places like this—alleyways that served as the hidden veins of the city, where the respectable and the wretched sometimes crossed paths.

And right now, you were dealing with the latter.

The man in front of you—scruffy, lean, his coat torn at the edges—staggered slightly. His nose was already crooked from your first punch, and his lip bled from where your knuckles had connected. Yet, despite his battered state, he still had the audacity to smirk.

"You've got a mean right hook, sweetheart," he drawled, wiping blood from his mouth. "But you don't belong here. Run back to your fancy little Council boyfriend before you get hurt."

Your fingers curled into fists again. You hadn't gone looking for a fight tonight, but the moment this bastard opened his mouth about Jayce—mocking his seat on the Council, calling him a spineless sellout—you saw red.

Jayce had worked tirelessly to bring progress to Piltover. He wasn’t perfect, but he had more integrity than any of those pompous bureaucrats in their ivory towers. And you weren’t about to let some bitter, gutter-rat spread lies about him.

"Big words for someone who can't even stand straight," you taunted, wiping at the blood on your split lip with the back of your hand.

The man’s sneer twisted into something darker. With a growl, he lunged.

You sidestepped, your foot sweeping beneath his, sending him sprawling to the cobblestone ground. Before you could capitalize on his disadvantage, a sharp tug at your collar yanked you backward.

You barely had time to register the second attacker—a bulkier man with a rough beard—before he slammed you against the alley wall. The bricks bit into your spine, pain rippling through you, but you gritted your teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

"Feisty little thing," he sneered, his breath reeking of cheap liquor. His grip tightened on your collar, twisting the fabric.

You spat in his face.

The instant your saliva hit his cheek, his expression twisted with fury. He raised a fist—

Bad move.

Before he could bring it down, you twisted sharply, using the momentum to break free. The moment your feet hit the ground, you drove your elbow into his ribs, followed by a swift kick to his knee. He yelped, collapsing onto one leg.

But his friend was already scrambling to his feet.

They weren’t skilled fighters—just brawlers looking for trouble—but two against one was never an easy fight. You barely had time to react before the first man was swinging again, his fist clipping your shoulder. You hissed at the pain but retaliated immediately, driving a hard punch into his side.

"Enough!"

The voice was thunderous, cutting through the fight like a blade.

You barely had time to register the sound of heavy boots against the cobblestone before a figure stepped between you and the men. A flash of gold and blue. The unmistakable hum of Hextech energy crackling in the air.

Jayce.

Your breath hitched as he stood in front of you, his broad frame tense with barely restrained fury. His Hextech gauntlet whirred softly, arcs of blue energy pulsing through the intricate metalwork as he glared down at your attackers.

The bulky man still on his knees went rigid, while the other took a shaky step backward. They weren’t stupid—Jayce Talis wasn’t just a politician. He was a warrior, a man who had built his name with his own two hands. And right now, he looked ready to tear them apart.

Jayce took a step forward. Just one.

The first man flinched. The second bolted, scrambling toward the main street like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. His friend followed soon after, stumbling as he vanished into the shadows.

Silence settled over the alley.

Jayce turned, his gaze raking over you from head to toe, his jaw tight. You expected anger, maybe frustration—but what you saw instead was something raw. Something worried.

“Y/N…” His voice was softer now, his hands reaching out, hovering just above your arms before settling on your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

The adrenaline started to fade, leaving behind only aching muscles and exhaustion. You let out a breath, wincing slightly as you shifted. “I’ve had worse.”

Jayce didn’t laugh. His fingers brushed against your split lip, his brows furrowing deeply. “Damn it,” he muttered. “What were you thinking?”

You exhaled through your nose. “He was talking about you. Calling you a sellout. I wasn’t gonna let him get away with that.”

Jayce let out a slow, measured breath, closing his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them again, his frustration was still there, but it was softened by something else—something warmer. Something fond.

“You are so damn stubborn.” He shook his head, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You can’t just go picking fights in dark alleys because someone runs their mouth.”

You arched a brow. “I wasn’t picking a fight. I was finishing one.”

That did it—Jayce huffed a short laugh despite himself. But then he sighed again, his forehead resting against yours. “I love that you care about me, but next time…” His fingers tightened slightly. “Let me be the one protecting you for once, alright?”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

Jayce groaned. “Y/N.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, chuckling. “Next time, I’ll let you throw the first punch.”

He shook his head, amusement flickering behind the exasperation. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms locking around you as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You scared me,” he murmured into your hair.

You softened, your arms wrapping around him in return. “I’m okay, Jayce.”

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

His arm stayed firmly around your waist as he led you back toward the glowing streets of Piltover, away from the dark alleys and the violence left behind—back to where he could keep you safe, where you both belonged.

VIKTOR

The streets of Piltover were never quiet, even at night. The soft hum of Hextech lamps bathed the cobbled roads in an eerie blue glow, flickering where the city’s wealth had begun to crack. Y/N wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, wincing as she made her way up the steps to the Academy. She had won the fight—barely. Her ribs ached, knuckles were scraped raw, and she could already feel the bruises blossoming under her clothes.

The bastards deserved it.

It had started at a tavern in the Lower City, a place she had no business being, according to Viktor. But when she overheard a group of men talking about how the Academy was hoarding Hextech advancements, keeping them away from the people who needed them most, she couldn't just sit there and listen.

"Piltover's golden scholars, building miracles while the rest of us rot," one of them had sneered, slamming back a mug of ale.

She could have ignored it—should have—but when they started slandering Viktor, mocking the way he walked, the way he obsessed over his work, the way "a cripple shouldn't be trusted with progress"—she saw red.

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood. "Say that again," she challenged, voice calm, measured.

The biggest one—probably the ringleader—laughed and turned to face her, towering over her with the confidence of a man who had never lost a fight. "I said—"

His words never finished. She slammed her fist into his jaw, sending him stumbling into the table behind him. The tavern erupted into chaos.

Two of his friends jumped in. One tried to grab her from behind, his thick arms locking around her waist, but she stomped down hard on his foot and wrenched herself free. She twisted, driving an elbow into his ribs. Another one lunged at her. She ducked under his swing and drove her knee into his gut. He doubled over, gasping, just in time for her to send him sprawling with a solid right hook.

A punch to her side made her stumble, pain exploding in her ribs. She barely had time to recover before the ringleader came back for revenge, rage written all over his face. He swung, a clumsy, telegraphed blow fuelled by drunken anger. She dodged, then landed a brutal uppercut to his chin.

Blood sprayed. He hit the ground with a dull thud, unconscious.

The tavern fell into stunned silence, the few remaining patrons watching her with wide eyes. She wiped the blood from her split lip, ignoring the sting, and turned on her heel, stepping over the groaning bodies of her defeated opponents.

She won.

The walk back to the Academy was longer than she remembered, every step sending a fresh wave of pain through her body. But she knew where she wanted to be.

Viktor’s lab was a sanctuary of light and invention, the scent of oil and ozone thick in the air. The rhythmic clinking of metal told her he was still working, utterly absorbed in whatever project had captured his mind tonight.

She pushed open the door and winced as the brightness made her squint.

"Vik," she called, her voice hoarse.

The sound of his cane tapping against the floor was immediate. "You are back—" Viktor turned to face her, his amber eyes widening as he took in the sight of her. His expression darkened, lips parting in a sharp inhale.

"Y/N." His voice dropped into something dangerously quiet. "What happened?"

She shrugged, stepping inside fully. "Had a disagreement."

Viktor set down his tools with slow, deliberate care. "A disagreement?" His eyes scanned every bruise, every cut. His fingers ghosted over her split lip before he sighed, tilting her chin up slightly to inspect the damage. "You fought someone."

"They started it."

"You finished it," he muttered, shaking his head.

She smirked. "Obviously."

Viktor let out a sharp breath, rubbing his temple. "Y/N..." He rarely used that tone with her—low, edged with quiet frustration and something deeper.

Without another word, he turned and retrieved a small metal tin from one of his shelves, pulling out a cloth and a vial of antiseptic. He sat on the stool beside her, his grip careful, mindful of her bruised wrist as he guided her to sit.

"You are reckless," he murmured, dabbing at the cut on her cheek.

She winced. "Ow."

"Good. Maybe you will remember it next time before you throw yourself into a fight."

She scoffed. "They were talking shit about you."

Viktor froze for a moment. Then, his grip tightened ever so slightly before he resumed his work. "I do not care what they say about me."

"Well, I do."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but there was no real anger there. Only something softer. More careful. "You are impossible."

"That's why you love me," she teased.

Viktor didn't respond immediately. Instead, he finished tending to her wounds with practiced precision. He worked in silence, his fingers gentle as they brushed over her knuckles, lingering just a fraction too long.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean in slightly, his eyes searching hers. "I do," he admitted softly.

Her breath hitched slightly. Viktor rarely said things so plainly.

Then, with a smirk of his own, he added, "But next time, perhaps try not to start a brawl in a tavern, Ano?" (Yes)

She grinned, despite the ache in her face. "No promises."

Viktor sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

"Then I suppose I will always have my work cut out for me," he murmured.

She leaned into him, letting herself rest for just a moment.

"Yeah," she whispered. "You will."

JAYVIK

The streets of Piltover were alive with the usual hum of industry, the scent of metal and oil clinging to the air. The golden afternoon light gleamed against the polished brass of street lamps and the intricate latticework of the city’s architecture. Y/N walked between Viktor and Jayce, their usual trio dynamic at play—Jayce animatedly discussing some new Hextech breakthrough while Viktor interjected with sharp-witted corrections, a smirk tugging at his lips as he did so.

Y/N wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, more lost in the comfort of their presence, the way Viktor’s voice dipped into a teasing lilt when he corrected Jayce, the way Jayce rolled his eyes but still grinned at the challenge. It was familiar. It was theirs.

Until the voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Tch. Didn’t think the golden boy would stoop so low—walking around with a cripple and his lapdog."

The insult wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t even the usual underhanded jabs that Viktor received from the more snobbish sectors of Piltover. No, this was deliberate. Sharp-edged and meant to wound.

Y/N barely registered the man—some self-important merchant dressed in expensive silks, his face permanently twisted in the kind of arrogance that came from old Piltover money. The scent of cologne barely masked the stench of entitlement.

Jayce let out a long sigh, shoulders tensing, his jaw clenching briefly before he forced himself to loosen up. He was used to it. Viktor, too. The scientist merely scoffed under his breath, as if the insult wasn’t even worth his time.

But Y/N?

She saw red.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Jayce barely had time to react before Y/N slammed her fist into the man’s face.

The crack echoed down the cobbled street, loud enough to startle the onlookers who had been watching with mild amusement. The merchant staggered back, hands flying to his face as blood immediately spurted from his now-broken nose. His once-arrogant expression twisted into one of pure shock.

“You fucking—!” he sputtered, but before he could even think about retaliation, Y/N was already on him again.

Her knuckles collided with his gut, driving the air from his lungs in a sharp wheeze. He barely had time to double over before she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, slamming her knee into his face with enough force to send him sprawling onto the ground.

There were gasps. Someone murmured about the Enforcers. Others merely watched in stunned silence.

The man tried to retaliate, swinging wildly in her direction, but Y/N was already three steps ahead. She dodged effortlessly, then slammed her elbow into his jaw, making his head snap to the side with another sickening crack.

She should have stopped.

She couldn’t.

Not when she could still hear his voice sneering at Viktor, at Jayce. Like Viktor wasn’t a genius beyond comprehension, like Jayce hadn’t bled for this city. Like they weren’t everything to her.

Her fist cocked back, intent on shattering what was left of his arrogant, self-important face—

But suddenly— Her feet left the ground.

A yelp of frustration left her lips as strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her clean off the street.

"Alright, that’s enough, tiger," came Jayce’s too amused voice, though there was an unmistakable edge of authority in it.

"Put me down!" Y/N snapped, thrashing, but he only hoisted her higher, adjusting her until she was slung over his broad shoulder like she weighed nothing.

"Yeah, not happening," Jayce chuckled, though there was tension in his grip. "You’re making a scene."

She could see Viktor now, calmly watching the entire display from where he stood, leaning slightly on his cane. His golden eyes flickered between the groaning, barely-conscious merchant and Y/N, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He lifted his cane, tapping it lightly against the ground.

"Hm," he mused. "An impressive display. Not entirely necessary, but effective."

“Are you serious right now?” Y/N growled, still struggling as Jayce carried her effortlessly down the street.

Jayce sighed dramatically. “Vik, can you at least pretend to be mad?”

Viktor tilted his head, considering. “Well, I did plan to let him wallow in his own ignorance rather than in a pool of his own blood.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms as she gave up trying to pry herself free. "He deserved it."

Jayce chuckled, adjusting his grip to keep her from slipping. “I won’t argue with that, sweetheart. But let’s try not to get arrested today, yeah?"

A low chuckle came from Viktor, warm and laced with something dangerously close to admiration.

"Though," he added with a smirk, "I must admit, it was rather… attractive."

Y/N’s face burned.

Jayce groaned. "Great. Now she’s gonna fight even more people."

Viktor smirked. "Perhaps."

By the time they made it back to their shared apartment, the adrenaline had begun to fade, leaving behind a dull ache in Y/N’s knuckles.

Jayce had finally set her down, but not before grumbling about how much of a menace she was. Viktor, on the other hand, had been quiet—watching her with that careful gaze, his fingers occasionally tapping against his cane as if lost in thought.

The apartment was dimly lit, the warm glow of the fireplace flickering over the exposed brick walls and the cluttered workbenches scattered with blueprints and half-finished projects. It smelled of oil, parchment, and home.

“Sit,” Viktor finally said, gesturing toward the couch. His voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing edge.

“I’m fine,” Y/N muttered, flexing her fingers. A mistake. The second she moved, a sharp sting lanced through her knuckles, making her bite the inside of her cheek.

Jayce scoffed from the small kitchenette, where he was already rummaging through a drawer. “Yeah, and I’m Noxian royalty. Sit down.”

Reluctantly, she did, sinking into the plush cushions. Viktor settled beside her, the worn wood of his cane resting against his leg. He reached out, his fingers featherlight as he turned her hand over, inspecting the split skin with a mix of fond exasperation and concern.

His touch was cool, a contrast to the warmth still burning under her skin.

“…You shouldn’t hit with your bare knuckles like that,” he murmured, running a thumb gently over the bruising. His voice dipped into something thoughtful, almost amused. “You’ll break your hand before you break their jaw.”

Y/N smirked, despite the throb in her fingers. “Then I’ll learn how to throw a stronger punch.”

Viktor let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Jayce returned from the kitchen, a damp cloth in one hand and a small metal tin of salve in the other. He didn’t say anything. Just knelt in front of her, took her injured hand in his own larger, calloused one, and pressed the cool cloth against her bruised knuckles.

Y/N flinched, hissing through her teeth.

“Hold still,” Jayce muttered, gently dabbing at the dried blood. There was no real bite to his words—just concern.

“I told you, I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jayce drawled, still carefully cleaning her hand. “Just let us take care of you for a second, alright?”

Y/N blinked.

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist—not in discomfort, but in that deep, unspoken kind of warmth that settled in her chest whenever she looked at them.

Viktor reached for the tin of salve, opening it with a quiet scrape of metal. He dipped his fingers inside, then began applying it to her knuckles in slow, gentle circles.

“We appreciate the sentiment, really,” he murmured, his golden eyes flicking up to meet hers. “But you don’t need to fight our battles, Y/N.”

“I know,�� she said quietly.

Jayce leaned against the couch beside her, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

"Do you?"

She swallowed.

She did know Viktor and Jayce could handle themselves. She knew they were more than capable of ignoring the cruelty of people like that merchant. But she couldn’t.

Because she had spent too long watching people like them underestimate Viktor, dismiss Jayce’s efforts, mock the brilliance of two men who had given everything to this city.

Viktor must have seen something in her expression, because his hand paused on hers, his thumb stilling against her skin.

His golden eyes softened, and his voice dipped into something quieter.

“…We love you for it, you know,” he murmured, finishing the last wrap of the bandage. “For caring that much.”

Jayce nodded, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced with something gentler.

“Just… don’t get yourself hurt, okay?” he added, nudging her knee with his own.

Y/N exhaled, glancing between them. The fight had left her buzzing, but this? The warmth of their hands, the softness of their words—this was grounding. She let herself relax, just a little.

“Alright,” she murmured. "I'll be more careful next time."

Jayce snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?”

Viktor smirked, tying off the bandage with a deliberate slowness. “…I’m quite sure of it.”

Y/N grinned. Yeah. She wouldn’t stop fighting for them.But at least she’d let them take care of her after.

VANDER

The Last Drop was bustling with the usual crowd—tough faces nursing their drinks, smugglers whispering deals in dark corners, and a handful of bruisers keeping watch for any trouble. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the low hum of conversations layered over the occasional clang of mugs meeting wood. You sat at the bar, leaning comfortably against Vander’s broad frame, your fingers lazily tracing the rim of your drink as you spoke.

Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor were gathered close, their eager expressions making it clear they were hanging on to every word of your latest story.

"—and that's when I knocked the guy flat on his ass," you finished, lips curling into a smirk as you took a sip of your drink.

Vi practically vibrated with excitement, fists clenched in anticipation. "You gotta teach me that move!" she exclaimed, her freckled face lit up like she’d just been handed a treasure map.

Vander chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice cutting through the noise around you as he rested a firm, grounding hand on her shoulder. "Maybe when you're a little older," he said, his tone warm but edged with a fatherly finality.

Vi frowned but didn’t argue, though the fire in her eyes didn’t dim.

"Yeah, but when they are, they are," Mylo muttered, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of whatever watered-down drink he’d managed to snag.

Vander’s sharp gaze flicked to him, and Mylo immediately looked away, pretending to be very interested in the state of his boots.

You chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Powder’s hair as she leaned against you, her small frame almost vibrating with the same excitement as Vi. Just as the warmth of the moment settled in, a loud crash from the entrance shattered the cozy atmosphere like glass against stone.

Heads turned as a lanky, mean-looking thug staggered into the bar, his boots dragging heavily against the floorboards. His greasy hair hung in damp strands over a face twisted with fury, his nose bloody, and his lower lip split open. One of his hands clutched his jaw as though trying to hold it together, but his narrowed eyes locked onto you with unmistakable rage.

"You bitch," he spat, his voice thick with anger and the slur of someone whose pride had been bruised far more than his face. "You broke my damn tooth!"

The room tensed like a coiled spring.

Vander’s expression darkened, his broad frame subtly shifting as he placed himself just slightly ahead of the kids—a protective instinct honed over years of looking after them.

But you? You barely reacted. Exhaling through your nose, you leaned on the bar as if you had all the time in the world, your fingers drumming lazily against the wood. Unbothered. Unshaken.

"You shouldn't have tried to grab that girl in the market," you said evenly, your voice calm, but carrying an edge sharp enough to slice through his bravado.

Vi’s eyes widened slightly, flicking between you and the man, the gears in her mind turning fast.

"You made me look weak!" the thug barked, his face twisting as his pride bled through his rage. "In front of my crew!"

"You made yourself look weak," you corrected, standing up from your seat with an unhurried grace. "Attacking someone smaller than you? That’s not strength. That’s cowardice."

A low murmur rippled through the bar—agreement, amusement, anticipation.

The thug snapped.

With a furious growl, he lunged at you, fists swinging wild and reckless.

Everything happened in a blur.

You sidestepped effortlessly, your movement fluid as water, and before he even realized he’d missed, you hooked your foot around his ankle. The moment his balance faltered, you struck—grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him forward. He hit the floor with a dull thud, his breath escaping in a painful wheeze.

The bar erupted into hushed gasps and scattered cheers, but you weren’t done yet.

Before he could recover, you crouched down and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up just enough to drive your elbow hard into his gut. The impact sent a sharp gasp from his lips, spittle flying as his body curled inward in pain.

"You wanna fight?" you asked, your voice as smooth as silk but laced with quiet menace. "Pick on someone who hits back."

The thug wheezed, his eyes squeezing shut in pain before he snarled and threw a desperate punch.

Sloppy. Predictable.

You caught his wrist with ease, twisting it sharply enough to force him onto his knees with a strangled yelp. His body jerked under your grip, his free hand scrabbling at your arm, but you didn’t let up, twisting just enough to make sure he understood exactly how much control you had.

The entire bar watched in stunned silence.

Then, with a wicked smirk, you released him.

"Now get out," you ordered, your voice low but carrying through the room like a judge’s verdict.

He scrambled to his feet, his face contorted with pain and humiliation. Muttering curses under his breath, he stumbled toward the door, his pride more broken than his body.

Only then did the noise return to the bar—whispers, murmurs of admiration, and a few low whistles of appreciation.

And then—

"Holy shit," Vi breathed, her eyes wide with something you recognized all too well—pure, undiluted awe.

"You were so fast!" Powder gasped, bouncing on her toes, her blue eyes practically glowing with admiration. "Can you teach me that?! Please?!"

Mylo, for once in his life, was speechless. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, before he finally just nodded in agreement with Powder.

Claggor let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "That was somethin’ else."

Vander, however, wasn’t impressed in the way the kids were.

He stood with his arms crossed, his jaw set in that way that told you—without a single word—that he was not happy.

"Y/N," he said, his voice level but firm. "A word?"

You exhaled through your nose, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you gave the kids a glance before nodding. Vander led you toward the back, and the moment the door shut behind you, the shift in his energy was subtle, but unmistakable—concern woven deep beneath the frustration.

"You alright?" he asked first, his sharp eyes scanning you like he expected to find an injury you hadn’t mentioned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him, though you could see in his expression that it didn’t ease his worry.

Vander exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his beard. "You could’ve let it go."

Your brows lifted slightly. "You really think that?"

Vander sighed, shaking his head. "No. But fighting in front of the kids—Vi especially—you know what that does? It makes her think solving everything with her fists is the way."

You folded your arms, your gaze steady. "That guy attacked me. You wanted me to let him get away with it?"

"Of course not," he said, stepping closer, his hands settling firmly on your shoulders. The warmth of his touch was grounding. "But you know how Vi is. She looks up to you. " his voice softened just a fraction—"I just don't want her getting hurt is all."

Your anger deflated slightly, because—damn it—he was right.

"I’ll talk to her," you muttered.

Vander gave a small smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. "That’s all I ask, love."

When you walked back out, Vi was still looking at you like you’d just walked out of a legend.

"So," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "When’s my first lesson?"

You sighed. Vander groaned. And Powder? She just cheered.

SILCO

The Undercity was no stranger to violence. Blood spilled over petty squabbles, territorial disputes, or just sheer desperation. You knew this well—you had lived it, breathed it, fought in it.

Tonight was no different.

The air inside The Last Drop was thick with smoke and sweat, the usual murmur of hushed conversations and drunken laughter filling the space. You had come to relax, to wind down after a long day, but fate had other plans.

“Oi, watch it,” a gruff voice sneered as a heavy shoulder knocked into yours, nearly making you spill your drink.

You turned slowly, taking in the broad-shouldered thug who had dared to cross you. His sneer widened when he saw your face, recognition flickering in his dull eyes—but he underestimated you.

“You’ve been running your mouth, sweetheart,” he continued, cracking his knuckles. “Heard you’ve been gettin’ a little too close to power.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. So that’s what this was about. A power struggle. A warning.

They didn’t know you were Silco’s lover.

And even if they had, it wouldn’t have stopped them. People always thought power could be taken if you just spilled enough blood.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips as you set your drink down. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

The first punch came fast, but you were faster. Ducking, you slammed your fist into his gut, feeling the satisfying crunch of ribs beneath your knuckles. His friend lunged at you from behind, but you twisted, kicking a chair into his shins and sending him sprawling.

The room exploded into chaos.

Fists flew, bottles shattered, tables overturned. You moved like a ghost in the storm—dodging, striking, evading. The leader of the thugs managed to grab you by the collar, yanking you forward to land a brutal hit to your side. Pain flared, but you gritted your teeth and retaliated, elbowing him across the jaw.

By the time you stood over his body, breath heaving, knuckles bleeding, the rest of the bar had fallen into a hush. A few men groaned on the ground, others scrambled to get out of your way. You wiped your lip, tasting copper.

And then you heard it.

A slow, deliberate clap.

Your stomach twisted—not in fear, but in something deeper, something more dangerous.

Silco stood at the entrance, one hand in his coat pocket, the other lazily applauding as he strode forward. His mismatched gaze flickered between the unconscious men and your bruised form, a slow smirk curling at his lips.

“Impressive,” he murmured, voice like silk laced with amusement. “Though I do wonder why I wasn’t invited to the show.”

The remaining thugs scrambled away at the mere sight of him, leaving you standing alone in the aftermath.

“You should have told me you were coming,” you teased, wiping blood from your knuckles.

Silco sighed, stepping closer until his fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face up to inspect the damage. His touch was deceptively gentle, his sharp eyes tracing each bruise with something unreadable—concern masked behind indifference.

Then, in one fluid motion, he drew his pistol.

The metallic click of the hammer being pulled back echoed through the hushed room.

“Silco—”

Your voice didn’t stop him. He pressed the cold barrel against the thug’s temple, his grip steady, unshaken. The man, now barely conscious, groaned weakly as he felt the impending threat of death.

“I believe I made myself clear,” Silco said smoothly, his finger tightening on the trigger. “I don’t take kindly to those who try to harm what belongs to me.”

The man whimpered, fear flooding his eyes.

You stepped forward, placing a hand over Silco’s wrist. Not forceful—just enough. Your touch, where others would have trembled, was sure.

“He didn’t know,” you murmured, your gaze locked with Silco’s. “Killing him now? It’s a waste.”

His mismatched eyes flicked to you, searching, calculating. “Is it?”

You smiled then, slow and deliberate. Not pleading—commanding. “He’ll be more useful alive, don’t you think? He’ll remember tonight, and he’ll spread the word. That will do far more damage than a corpse rotting in the gutters.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, with an exhale that sounded almost amused, Silco lowered the gun. The thug gasped in relief, trembling.

You crouched in front of him, gripping his bloodied jaw and forcing him to look at you. His fear was palpable, his breath ragged.

“Next time, pick your fights more carefully,” you murmured, voice like velvet over a blade. “Because if you ever cross me again, Silco won’t need to put a bullet in you.”

You smiled, running your thumb over his chin almost mockingly.

“I’ll do it myself.”

The man nodded frantically, scrambling backward the moment you let him go.

Silco watched you for a long moment before chuckling under his breath. “A show of mercy… or a display of power?”

You stood, dusting off your hands. “Both.”

His smirk widened, pride flickering in his gaze as he tucked the pistol back into his coat. He extended his arm to you, as if the moment of violence had never occurred.

“Come, my dear,” he said smoothly. “I believe I owe you a drink.”

And just like that, the fight was over. But the power?

That was yours to wield.

SEVIKA

The dim glow of Zaun’s neon lights flickered above, casting long shadows through the damp alleyway. The air was thick with the scent of metal and smoke, a pungent mix that clung to the underground city like an old wound. The Sludge Rats, a gang of lowlifes trying to make a name for themselves, had picked the wrong day to piss you off.

The fight had started—like most of your fights did—with a smart mouth and a bad attitude.

“Didn’t know Sevika kept a little pet,” one of them sneered, the group laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

You didn’t wait for another word. Fist met face. A satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across the damp pavement as you knocked the guy flat on his ass.

The others jumped in fast. You were outnumbered, but that never stopped you before. Five against one? Sounds about fair.

Your heart pounded with adrenaline as you weaved between blows, every movement precise, every hit calculated. One punch to the gut. A knee to the ribs. A solid hook to the jaw. You felt the satisfying give of flesh against your knuckles, the sharp intake of breath from someone who had underestimated you.

A knife glinted under the dim light—too slow. You grabbed the wrist before it could reach you, twisted until you felt the sickening pop of bone, and slammed your forehead into the guy’s nose. He howled in pain as blood poured from his nostrils, and you shoved him backward, sending him crashing against the alley wall.

You should have stopped there. But you never knew when to quit.

Another came at you, fists swinging wildly. You dodged one, two—then a sudden sharp burn sliced across your side.

Your body reacted faster than your mind. A kick to his knee. A grab. A slam. The bastard crumpled at your feet, groaning in agony.

The world slowed for a moment as you exhaled through the pain. Blood seeped into the fabric of your shirt, warm against your skin. Another fight. Another scar.

Breathing heavy, you wiped the blood—yours and theirs—off your lip with the back of your hand. You stood there, triumphant, waiting to see if any of them had the guts to get up again. None did.

And then—a voice. Low, sharp, and unmistakably pissed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You turned, wiping the sweat from your brow. Sevika.

She stood at the entrance of the alley, her bionic arm gleaming under the neon glow, her expression dark with barely restrained anger. Her usual scowl was deeper now, eyes flicking from your face to your side where blood had started to soak into your shirt.

Shit.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, Sevika was on you. Her grip was firm but careful, like she was resisting the urge to shake some sense into you.

“You just got over your last fight,” she muttered, pulling your shirt up just enough to examine the wound. Her fingers traced the torn fabric, her jaw tightening at the sight of fresh blood. “And now this?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a scratch.”

Her glare shut you up fast.

“Do you have any idea how fucking tired I am of this?” Sevika’s voice was low, but there was a rough edge to it—an exhaustion deeper than anger. “Every damn time I turn around, you’re either bleeding, bruised, or pissing off someone who could kill you.”

“I can handle myself,” you shot back, though you knew that wasn’t the point.

Sevika’s nostrils flared, her bionic fingers flexing before she let out a slow, measured breath. “You shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”

That stopped you.

The words hit harder than any punch. You weren’t afraid of fights, but this—the way Sevika looked at you, like you were something fragile in her hands despite all your scars—this scared you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant hum of Zaun’s underbelly filled the space between you.

Then, Sevika let out a frustrated sigh, stepping closer. Her forehead pressed against yours, the tension melting from her shoulders.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she muttered, voice quieter now.

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a second before leaning into her. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back.

She didn’t look convinced. Her fingers, rough and calloused from years of battle, brushed against your cheek, lingering there like she was committing you to memory. “You say that like it’s up to you.”

You swallowed hard. She had a point. In a city like Zaun, survival wasn’t promised.

Sevika let out a slow breath, then stepped back. Her hand curled around your wrist, firm and unwavering.

“Come on.”

You frowned. “Where?”

“To get you patched up before you bleed out all over this alley."

You chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sevika shot you a look, but there was something softer in her eyes now, something almost fond.

She started walking, pulling you along without another word. You followed—because no matter how many fights you picked, no matter how many times you ended up bruised and bloodied, you knew you had somewhere to go back to.

You had her.

The walk back was mostly silent, save for the hum of neon signs and the occasional groan from you when the cut throbbed too much. Sevika didn’t let go of your wrist the whole way.

When you finally made it back to her place, she wasted no time, forcing you onto a chair while she grabbed bandages and a rag.

“Shirt off.”

You smirked. “At least buy me dinner first.”

Sevika gave you a flat look before yanking the fabric over your head herself. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver slightly, but the warmth of her fingers brushing against your ribs more than made up for it.

She cleaned the wound in silence, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. Her touch was gentle despite her obvious irritation. You watched her. The way she concentrated. The way her shoulders tensed like she was holding something back.

After a long moment, she finally spoke. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Your smirk faded. “Sev—”

“No,” she cut you off, looking up at you now. “You think you’re untouchable, but one day, you’re gonna pick a fight you can’t win. And then what?”

You had no answer for that.

She sighed and pressed a bandage over the wound before cupping your jaw in her hand. “You scare the shit out of me, you know that?”

Your chest tightened. Sevika didn’t do soft. She didn’t do vulnerable. So hearing her say that? It hit deeper than any blade ever could.

Slowly, you reached up, fingers brushing against hers. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “You’re damn right you are.”

You chuckled, even as warmth spread through your chest. Maybe, just this once, you’d try not to fight the next idiot who opened their mouth. Maybe.

But knowing you? Probably not.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you

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thescarlettbitch · 3 months ago

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Honoring Forgotten Gods

I made a post about Gods Lost To Time, and a couple people expressed how sad it made them, how it feels bad, how they wish they could worship forgotten Gods.

You can. I do, here is how I do it. (A reminder: I am not a priest or a priestess, I am by no means an expert. I myself have only recently started worshipping and honoring these Deities.)

But first, I will say this once and not again

This is an incredibly intuitive practice. If you are going to comment "how do you know you're not working with demons faking being gods to steal your soul?" Your comment assumes two things. 1) that I believe in demons 2) that I believe demons are inherently malicious. I don't believe demons are inherently malicious. My mother believes I was possessed by one when I was a child, but I don't. I believe they are a spirit in this world like everything else and that they deserve respect. If they want to come to my altar, that is fine by me. As long as they are respectful to me and my Gods, all are welcome.

Next,

What are the Forgotten Gods?

Forgotten Deities are the Deities that existed in ancient times who's names and practices have been lost to time. Could be from a not-yet discovered civilization, or maybe they're older than the written word, or even older than humans as we know them, or maybe they were lesser-worshipped in known civilizations. There is no way to know for sure if these Deities did or did not exist, we have no way to ask Neanderthals if they had a God. Their names haven't been spoken in centuries. They haven't been honored in centuries. But if we, as humans, have always had some sort of religion, it's not a far stretch to assume that pre-humans did as well. ("How do you even find out about a forgotten God?")

Prayer

Obviously the prayer is going to be a little different from how you pray to your main deities. We don't know the names of these Gods. We don't know what they represent, or anything about them. I usually start the prayer with "To all who have been lost to time" and go on to my appreciation. "Thank you for keeping our ancestors safe. For teaching them how to farm and how to use the land. For giving them fire and animals and plants to nourish their bodies." Etc etc. Then I give them an offering and say a final thank you, or I express my condolences for them having been lost, say a final thank you, and give an offering.

Building an Altar

My altarspace is currently a mess as I'm prepping to move (not moving yet, still finding a place) so I haven't "built" one yet, but I have a few ideas.

I'd start with a space, obviously, set up a place for offerings, and a candle. It could be on your major altar, or it could be its own space. I'd keep it simple, at least while starting out. Maybe something for the elements, but nothing too big or flashy. As you build relationships with these Deities, you can add and change and remove items at will.

Offerings

I do libations, the act of pouring a liquid directly on the ground, but if I had the means I would 100% burn the offerings. Leaving offerings on your alter space is also a good idea.

Here are some ideas!

Water - water has been around as far back as we can tell. Seems like a pretty neutral and safe offering idea to me.

Fruit - figs are the oldest fruit, but anything. Food is important to life, and for all we know, these Deities are the reason we have them.

Berries and nuts - see above - vegetation was an important part of the diet in ancient evolutionary periods.

Flowers - natural, neutral in my mind.

Wine/Mead/Beer - wines, beers, and meads have been around for lots of years, humans have always been fermenting foods to get drunk.

Bread and cheese - also been around for a very long time

As you grow and build relationships with these Deities, you'll learn to differentiate their energies, you'll learn who likes what, who identifies with masculine or feminine pronouns, you may even be able to give them a nickname to differentiate them from the others.

My Own Worship

Currently, my worship with Forgotten Gods does not stray far from a simple thank you, I'm sorry, and a libation. I don't work closely with any one specifically but rather the idea of them as a whole. I try to say a thank you to them once a day.

#witchblr #witchcraft #deity work #deity worship #devotee #eclectic witch #deity devotion #baby witch #deity #forgotten gods #ancient gods #gods lost to time

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belbobiggins · 21 days ago

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heartbreaking sans was the breakout undertale character and so many aus left papyrus in the baby dumpster. HES A GOOD CHARACTER

YES I AGREE!!! listen I don't mind Sans aus but like I would fw them waaaayyy harder if they included Papyrus. I personally love both brothers equally (and take joy and whimsy in their characters respectively for different reasons) so if you include one and not the other it's kind of a bummer 👎

Let's use Dreamtale for an example. The idea itself isn't actually that bad and is an interesting idea for an Undertale au... but then instead of taking the two main brother characters and making them Sans and Papyrus (who are BROTHERS), they just make them two Sanses. That ruins it for me. Why can't Nightmare be Sans and Dream be Papyrus?? That would literally swoon so many fucking people dude.

Horrortale skelebros are by far some of the most mischaracterized skelebros out there. People will make Sans this cannibalistic sibling beater and Papyrus super innocent and/or non-existent. Not only is Sans NOT a cannibal in this au (the comic literally shows the mental turmoil he puts himself through in his effort to not eat human) but Papyrus is a super prevalent character and like. Is NOT innocent?? maybe a little oblivious but even then that's a stretch.

Fanon Underswap is straight up just a missed opportunity to make Sans and Papyrus even more badass than they already are

Don't even get me STARTED on the shit people do to Underfell. Like no actually, Sans and Papyrus are not in an abusive relationship in this au. In fact, they're basically the same characters except slightly edgier and they make penis jokes. Underfell Papyrus is literally described as not understanding puns unless they're "evil puns". That's fucking hilarious and you cannot tell me that man beats the shit out of his brother

The plot of Farmtale is HIGHLY underrated. The idea is that when monsters got out of the Underground, there were very little/no humans left and all humans civilization was destroyed, therefore monsters had to build their town from scratch and learn to farm. That's fucking cool actually??

Where do I even begin with Reapertale. How come everyone has a cool role EXCEPT Papyrus?? Do you know how much of a fucking fumble that is??? Do you know the potential that was wasted???? Why is Sans The God of Death and Papyrus is essentially The Second God of Death But For Painless Deaths(tm)? That's stupid. You're stupid. Greek mythology fucking did it right why can't Reapertale. Make Papyrus the fucking God of Limbo or something weird. I want Papyrus to be uncomprehensible like a biblically accurate angel but also simultaneously be the most forgiving thing to ever exist. Why can't he be the God of Consciousness or some other obscure shit and he's the only thing allowing humans to have the freedom to consciously make good or bad decisions for themselves.

#no hate to any au creators btw. aus are a necessary to the undertale fandom lore and you cannot change my mind #but there is so much missed potential that its honestly just sad #but the neutral route endings of Undertale are essentially just canon aus. you dont dislike aus you just havent found the right ones yet #that and the ones you HAVE found are either heavily fanonized or just straight up lacking in story #*cough cough* lustale *cough* killertale *couGH COUGH COUGH*#undertale #utdr #undertale aus #sans aus #bad sanses #sans #sans undertale #papyrus #papyrus undertale #papyrus aus #skelebros #dreamtale #horrortale #farmtale

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bitter-hibiscus · 9 months ago

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bear with me as I overanalyze Jason's grave

there's like, a lot to talk about when it comes to Jason's grave, but let's start with the most important part: The casket.

The difference between a coffin and a casket is that a coffin has six sides, while a casket has four. However, the context in which caskets started to be used serves us great narrative purpose. Caskets started being produced, in America, during the Civil War, as a way to "beautify" death. See below:

It was the violence combined with the scale of death that led to the ‘the beautification of death’ in America during this period, and it was the shift in both name and shape of the coffin that was an effort to distance the living from the unpleasantness of death, and the hexagonal coffins were part of that distancing.

Many early American caskets were still six-sided, but noticeably grander. It’s almost as if the coffin was too honest, too basic and unrefined. The change in name from coffin to casket reinforces this point, as ‘casket’ calls to mind a vessel for storing precious goods, a euphemism, yes, but seemingly also a mark of intended respect. For Americans, the idea of a casket seemed a more appropriate term to honour their dead. (From Coffins to Caskets: an American History by Sarah Hayes)

So, a casket is used in an attempt to honor the dead, and, most importantly, to take away the ugly parts of how those soldiers died in the War. The casket is an attempt to sanctify the dead while omitting the context in which they died, and what they'd died for. *

Another thing that stands out to me is that Jason's grave has an angel statue. Jason's statue, specifically, is a praying angel. Praying angels symbolize that the buried was deeply religious and devoted to God. It's interesting that that pose was the one chosen, since there are poses that symbolize heartbreak, and ones that symbolize people who were "gone too soon" and were "innocent and pure". It feels pointed, then, that the angel Bruce had commissioned is one that symbolizes faith and being guided to the afterlife. Could be extrapolated to mean that Bruce saw Robin as a follower and a believer instead of a child, someone who would always need the guidance of a higher being (such as Batman).

Lastly, Jason was buried in the city graveyard, and not the Wayne Family graveyard. I personally like to think that this serves two purposes -- one, to have Jason's grave in the same place as his parents', and two, to distance Bruce from Jason's death. Bruce regularly visits Thomas and Martha's graves, they're literally buried in Bruce's house. But we only see Bruce visiting Jason's grave once, on his 18th birthday, though it's safe to assume he at least visits Jason once a year.

It also works to say that though Jason is part of Gotham, but he's not part of Batman's mission. While Bruce constantly uses his parents' deaths to fuel his mission and his obsession, he does the opposite with Jason. It's not Batman who failed, it's Jason who was careless, it's Jason who disobeyed orders and went against what Batman told him to. So he doesn't get to be in the family cemetery, because Bruce can't use his death to fuel his bad behavior. *P.S.: Batman Annual #25 uses the word coffin, but shows a casket. Caskets are more widely used in the USA, so I'm choosing to believe that Winnick just doesn't know the difference between them.

#ramble ramble ramble #jason todd #red hood #jaybin #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #batfamily #meta analysis #robin dc #i think too much about jason todd <3

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iam-lnt · 7 months ago

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The Age of Louis XIV

Voltaire, who wrote Le sciècle de Louis XIV (The Age of Louis XIV), started off by doing a recount of the states of Europe before Louis XIV. and my hetalia brain rot began to go wild so i figure this can help me understand the first chapter of the book better so I sorted out quotes and made a brief summary for each mentioned nation in order that is written in the book to help enforce my understanding.

Germany*

*- "Germany" refers to the Empire of Germany, known in history as the Holy Roman Empire; since the 15th century, its throne had been occupied by the Habsburgs

"...the most powerful neighbor which France has...it abounds more with sturdy men inured to labor." "this great Germanic body...is maintained in [... ] order and regularity [...] The difference of government and genius makes...the Germans [more proper] for acting on the defensive."

Summary: strong, divided into two parties by Christianity. Emperor has less power in compare to a King in France. Was at the time pretty poor despite being "rich at home", and would eventually see its flourishing later on.

Spain

"...more formidable to Europe than the Germanic Empire. The kings of Spain were infinitely more absolute and rich than emperors..." "[Spain] under Philip II became a vast body without substance, which had more reputation than real strength...Notwithstanding all these disadvantages, Spain, by being united to the empire, threw a very formidable weight into the balance of Europe."

Summary: strong #2, starting to see its weak points, but still a ringing force and surviving well with the colonies.

Portugal

"...Portugal was again made a kingdom...through necessity, cultivated trades...entered into a league with the French and Dutch against Spain." "Portugal...extended its trade, and augmented its power..."

Summary: doing well over there. Shall watch your career with great interest.

The United Provinces

"...almost the only example in the world of what may be done by the love of liberty and unwearied labor. There poor people...made head against the whole collected force of their master and tyrant...and founded a power which we have seen counterbalancing that of Spain itself." "...they established a form of government which preserves...equality, the most natural right of human kind."

Summary: quite an admirable force (don't mess with the Dutch's money bags™️). Good government.

England

"England...arrogated to itself the sovereignty of the seas, and pretended to preserve a balance between the powers of Europe." "This civil war...[made England] lost [...] credit in Europe...trade was obstructed, and other nations looked upon [England]...till the time that she at once became more formidable than ever, under the rule of Cromwell."

Summary: pirate arc of England sprouting. Charles I could do well in anything but being a king ("ill-advised prince"). Waiting for Cromwell to do his thing.

Rome/The rest of Italy

I merged these two parts together for ✨aesthetics✨

"[Rome] has very little trade or money. [Rome's] spiritual authority...is slighted and abhorred by one half of Christendom...yet [...] some [...] resist [Rome's] will at times with reason and success." "but [the privileges] of Rome, by an almost constant proper use of resolution and concession, has preserved all that was humanly possible for her to preserve." "Some rights, many pretensions, patience and politics are all that Rome has left now of that ancient power..."

Summary: typical pope behavior, but in reality was losing respect and control. Impressively that was dealt with seasoned insight, and different oppositions of different kings/emperors were met with different levels of defense ("submissive...terrible to..acting cunningly"). Sly old fox, if you will.

"...situated in a peaceble country...biassed by various interests." "The state of Florence enjoyed tranquility and abundance under [...] Medici; and literature, arts, and politeness [...] still flourished there."

Summary: the typical Renaissance still doing the thing. Less disturbed by conflicts compared to the northern parts.

The Northern Kingdoms

"The Swedes [...] were a freer nation by their constitution which admits even the lowest class of the people into the assembly of the general estates." "Denmark...was no longer so [formidable] to any power."

Summary: Sweden good. Denmark flopping a bit. The rest of the northern kingdoms were doing their best (fighting)

The Turks

"The seraglio, though corrupted by effeminacy, still retained its cruelty...when it had [recovered from wars], this empire became again formidable."

Summary: may look messy back home but still don't underestimate the power

The situation of France

"France [...] was in alliance with Sweden, Holland, Savoy and Portugal...was engaged in a war against the empire of Spain...The French there has done the Spaniards and Germans a great deal of mischief, and had suffered as much themselves."

Summary: fighting with Spain (and also the house of Austria, so also Germany), tho the battles has reduced to petty squabbles over "a few frontier towns". Richelieu came to raise tax.

---

Works cited The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version. A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901). In 21 vols. Vol. XII.

--- Rambling (just a little) time.

Okay first off, bear in mind that all the quotes and summarized content are from the pov of Voltaire, so there can be possible biases.

I've been invested in the reign of Louis XIV for quite a while now, and I can attribute the reasons to 1) BBC Versailles, 2) Molière, and 3) general liking to history at the time (17-18c). I'm trying to figure out what exactly that the time period attracted me so much, like what "vibe" what "ideal" etc, but I'm still trying. And reading that book, which is long as hell, not to mention the messy af™️ European drama and people having Too Similar Names may just be helpful in terms of getting to know the history that happened in and around the court of Louis XIV.

Welp, gotta read more if I want to know more.

#hetalia #aph #historical hetalia #i will be lazy and not tag everyone sorry not sorry #doodle dump #random otter rattles #history

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skyahri · 1 year ago

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Soul |Ryomen Sukuna X Reader| HC

Summary: Sukuna meets the reincarnation of the only person he's ever loved.

Warnings: Implications of sex? Female pronouns. Reincarnation. Fear and anxiety.

- - - - -

"Rin..."

It came out like word vomit before Yuuji could even process what he was saying.

You looked at him, confused. Your name wasn't Rin and you'd never met this man before. Who did he think you were?

He slapped a hand over his mouth. Sukuna had forced his way to the surface just to ramble out a name? In all these years as his vessel, he'd never done something so trivial.

Sensing the flicker of cursed energy, Gojo, Megumi, and Nobara prepared themselves. It'd been a while since Sukuna had tried anything. Some sort of pact he'd formed with Yuuji kept him mostly content, although they weren't sure what it entailed.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Sukuna had taken over and stood directly in front of you, one hand flat on your chest and the other on your face.

"Rin... I could never forget the feel of your soul."

Your heartbeat fastened. An overwhelming feeling of fear fell onto you, rendering you unable to move.

What would you be able to do anyway? He's a God, and you had no abilities outside of actually seeing the damn things.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your name isn't Rin and you'd never had any kind of encounter with either men until just now.

Megumi tried to move forward, but Gojo stuck an arm out in front of him. Something was off about the way Sukuna was acting, and he didn't think it was threatening.

It would be best to see how this played out instead of possibly starting a war that was never meant to begin in the first place.

"What are you doing? We can't let her-"

"Hold on."

They watched as Sukuna looked you up and down, inspecting your robes, hair, and face with a certain softness. His face was still hard and his movements still confident, but there was just that feeling.

"You look so different, but thats to be expected. Are you fairing well?"

You swallowed hard. His delicate touch did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only confused you more. He was tucking your hair behind your ear, giving you some sort of smile, and yet you feared he was going to rip your heart right out of your body.

"Um..."

Really, how were you supposed to respond? What sort of answer was he expecting? What were the consequences if you were to answer incorrectly?

Were you meant to comment on how you supposedly looked different? Was it your features? Your clothes? Your haircut?

"I'm scared."

Sukuna paused. You were horrified to have answered wrong, and now you could only hope he wouldn't kill you.

But he did something unexpected; he laughed. A thick, hardy chuckle that made your blood run cold.

Was this the end? How pitiful. Slain on a random Tuesday afternoon all because you wanted to meet up with an old friend. That's not a proper death.

"A thousand years and countless reincarnations, yet you still know how to make me laugh."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You only had a moment to panic before a lifetime of memories filled your mind.

You remember the time before modern civilization when you relied on hunting in the woods and crops from the neighbor's farm.

You remembered your parents, siblings, friends, and other villagers. You remember your home on the outskirts of town just against the forest line.

But most importantly, you remember Sukuna.

You remember meeting him as a human, and then several years later as a curse. You faced off against him, and although you couldn't beat him in the end, you'd come close enough to earn his respect.

He stood above you, two arms crossed, one on his hip, and the other outstretched to offer you a hand up.

Who were you to refuse such a gesture from the king of curses?

He allowed you to join his temple alongside other followers of his with the condition you devoted yourself to him entirely. The offer was presented as a choice, but the alternative was death, so any reservations you had were null.

You wanted to go with him anyway, but that's beside the point.

From the very beginning of your journey with him, it was made clear to everyone that you were 'special' and not to be bothered.

This fact didn't hold up too well with some of the others, but what were they to do about it? Argue with Sukuna? Tell him they were more deserving of his attention? How pathetic.

He allowed you privileges that would only ever be known to you, like dining with him or joining him on trips. These small pleasantries became grand ones, like sharing his bed and allowing him to claim you.

Your relationship was equal from then on. You were not just a follower of his anymore. He was just as devoted to you as you are to him, and he ensured you knew it.

He'd always make sure to tell you how special you were, that he was taking his time with you and granting you pleasure. How you were his favorite, and no one else could even compare. How others had not been so lucky in the past.

He'd escort you to and from the hot springs, have humans bring you flowers and jewelry, and allow you to see the most vulnerable aspects of him.

He promised his love for you would never die, and here he is a millennia later proving true to his words.

Once the unrelenting onslaught of memories subsided, your hands met his- one still on your chest feeling your heartbeat, and the other slid partway into your hair- and all you could do was appreciate his presence.

You stared up at him. His face was different, but that intense look in his eyes was all the proof you needed that he was still the same man from all those years ago.

Tears beaded up in your eyes and quickly dripped down your cheeks. Crying had never been your thing in the past, but you didn't care to stuff the feelings down. Such a reunion was an occasion enough.

"My love," you whispered.

He leaned his forehead down to meet yours.

"My Queen."

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs

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attabeirussy · 8 days ago

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this is so embarrassing but … my tiny peanut brain cannot grasp why christianity and islam are considered separate from judaism … (disclaimer im so fucking stupid and also sorry)

LIKE. when looking at the history and how they each respectively developed, does it all not just boil down to infighting within the same religion? like, at what point is something considered a new religion instead of a sect or denomination? im not trying to be dismissive or rude, i genuinely don’t KNOW where the line is drawn (or understand why it’s drawn in the first place!). why do certain divergent viewpoints between judaism and christianity and islam make them “different” when similar disagreements exist between denominations of the SAME religion?

like. haredi, masortiim, and secular judaism all have very different approaches wrt worship and faith, and membership can have a huge and diverse impact on the rhythms and rituals of daily life, but they are all undeniably expressions of jewish identity, community, and culture. eastern orthodox christians and roman catholics are on completely different calendars, but they both self-label as “christian”. shiite and sunni communities have been debating for centuries, but these ideological differences don’t negate the fact that they’re permutations of islam. so i guess - why are some of these divisions considered “denominations” and others “religions”? if muhammad doubled down on all the teachings of noah, abraham, and moses, and if jesus made a career out of urging people to follow mosaic law, why are the latter two considered separate distinct religions? does it not all boil down to different subgroups within a larger group, that disagrees with the other subgroups on the “correct” way to worship what is essentially the same deity? (aren’t all muslims and christians jewish? with the main disagreement being that not everybody agrees on how to interpret That One Guy? i’m so confused!!!!!)

AGAIN: IM STUPID! AND ALSO: i am NOT saying “ohhh these should all be considered the same thing” - there’s clearly a reason why these are, today, considered their own separate religion (to the extent that wars have been waged! maps redrawn! civilizations extinguished!) - i just. i have no idea WHY. what makes a denomination a “denomination” and at what point does it become a new religion? at what point is it infighting and at what point is it two distinct religions beefing? i feel so stupid.

#judaism #islam #christianity #abrahamic religions #religion

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balkanswift · 7 months ago

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Secret Santa 2024 (Swiftie Edition)

Hello, or should I say, ho-ho-ho! The time has come for another year's Secret Santa (swiftie edition)! Some of you may remember me from last year - I'll try not to get shadowbanned this time lmao.

The idea is for us swifties to send each other festive anonymous asks, get to know one another and have fun during the holiday season! Making gifts is optional but appreciated.

More info below, please sign up by filling out the google form no later than December 1st:

If you want to participate, please fill out this google form no later than December 1st. The age question is so that huge age gaps are avoided, especially when it comes to minors. This is a minor-friendly event!

Please, if possible, give us your Discord account on which we can send you a friend request/messages. You can also create one, it's easy! Me and Kat @falklore will be your lovely elves, doing Santa's work once again, but we do not want to get shadowbanned again. As the tumblr messaging system is unreliable when it comes to sending a large group of people similar messages, we will be using Discord. Your emails will not be saved when filling out the google form, and we will message you on discord only for your pairing/if there are any issues or questions for the duration of the Secret Santa event. ALTERNATIVELY, if you don't have discord, we will send you the pairing via an anonymous ask, which you must not publish.

Our Discord usernames are ithinkheknowss and falkloree respectively.

We will then pair everyone and let you know who you will be messaging, hopefully by December 3rd, at which point you can start sending anonymous asks. You will also be assigned a different person as your secret santa.

Please have your anonymous asks open and check your discord for our message.

Identity reveal will be on December 25th, as mentioned making each other gifts is optional!

Please be consistent in your asks (if not every day, then every two or three days) and keep things polite and civil. Rudeness and bigotry will not be excused and you'll be removed from the exchange of asks. If you receive rude asks from your secret santa, please report them to me.

Please let us know if you have any questions or suggestions, or if your secret santa has not messaged you at all / for longer than 3 days. Please make sure you'll have time to participate regularly before signing up, so that the person whose secret santa you end up being is not left hanging.

Signal boosts are much appreciated and happy holidays, love you all! 💚❤️🎁

(Header by the lovely @tolerateit 💚 )

#swiftie secret santa 2024 #secret santa #taylor swift

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stevesgother · 8 months ago

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Take It Off - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.4k

Warnings - THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ MDNI, ONE use of Y/N (pls give me a break it was essential to the plot), swearing, drinking, angst

AN - the 3rd and final part to the Dress mini series! I’ve never written anything smutty or remotely spicy so I hope this doesn’t read as awkward as it felt to write. i appreciate all the support on my first fics i’ve ever written. love , emma <3

Now

New Years Eve

1987

The Harrington residence had always been the go-to for ragers in high school. Devoid of parents, unlocked liquor cabinets and plenty of unoccupied bedrooms for steamy teenage rendezvous’; but this party would be different. Smaller and more intimate.

Nancy was helping you unload the groceries you had bought for the party tonight when she noticed a shift in your demeanor, you seemed on edge. It took her an entire year to stop staring daggers at you in public, making group settings tense. Nancy knew that Steve had the hots for you. As a matter of fact, it seemed like everyone knew, everyone except you. It was in his lingering touches and the longing glances. She had always known.

Now, the tension between you had withered and snapped like nothing more than a frayed rope pulled too taut. She wasn’t your best friend, and you weren’t hers; but there was a mutual respect. There was civility. She had Jonathan now, and they were happy.

“Do you think it’ll be awkward?” you ask, scared to know her answer.

Then

December 1987

The sun was shining through the windows in thick, golden beams that highlighted the slope of Steve’s cheekbones and the moles that dotted down his neck and disappeared below the collar of his t-shirt. Little specks of dust float through the air, illuminated by the light seeping through the curtains.

You take a moment to admire how ethereal he looks like this. You’re a tangle of limbs when you look down; even in your subconscious you long to be close to him. A sudden melancholy washes over you as you realize this would likely be the last time you ever wake in this position. Nose to nose, his arm strewn haphazardly across your middle.

He must sense your staring because slowly, he starts to peel open his eyes. It takes him exactly 4 seconds to realize he is in fact, not dreaming, and has accidentally enveloped you in his sleep.

“Oh--” he startles groggily as he hurriedly pushes himself away from your side of the bed. “I’m sorry, I- I must’ve-” you want to protest at the lack of warmth his absence brings.

“No, you’re okay! I didn’t notice. Honest.” he looks skeptical; afraid that he might’ve crossed a line he can’t uncross. You reach a hand toward him, “Steve, it’s alright. You kept me warm actually,” you chuckle, “it’s freezing in here.”

He nods, clumsily stumbling out of bed and the tangle of sheets you two had found yourselves in. Too late, he realizes his rather compromising position. More specifically, the state of his dick directly after waking up.

“Oh my God!” you shout, moving quickly to cover your eyes and turning your entire upper body away from him. You already knew Steve was…well endowed. Girls love to talk, and those tight, light wash Levi’s don’t leave a lot up to the imagination; but now, with it literally staring you in the face, there’s not a doubt in your mind that that your best friend is absolutely hung.

“Ah! Jesus-” he grabs one of the sheets off the bed to cover his lower half. You realize just how hot you feel in contrast to the chilly air of the cabin.

“Okay you can uh,” he trails off, “turn around.”

When you face him, Steve’s tomato red with a blush that reaches all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Still not daring to make eye contact with him, “Jeez, Harrington. You got a permit for that thing?” A poor, ill-timed attempt at a joke, but he chuckles nonetheless.

“Sorry I- uh forgot I went to bed without pants on,” he smiles sheepishly, “I’m gonna hop in the shower before we leave.” You reply with a two-finger salute, finding the loose threads of the sheets suddenly very interesting as he disappears behind the bathroom door.

The drive home was awkward to say the least. Eddie, Robin and Vickie all sensing the tension, but knowing better than to bring it up in front of you. When you arrive back in Hawkins, Steve drops everyone off at their respective homes, saving you for last.

“Thanks again for offering to drive,” you move to open the door but are interrupted by Steve, “Here, let me help with your bags. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You don’t fight him as he takes every bag from you, not even allowing you to carry your own purse. He stands on your porch with you, clammy hands shoved tightly into his pockets, for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I’d better…you know, get going,” you nod in the direction of your house. “Yeah, yeah okay,” he pulls you into a warm bear hug; his specialty. The gesture feels different. An air of bashfulness radiating from both of you. When you pull away, he has an indistinguishable look in his eyes as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His gaze flits quickly from your eyes, to your lips, and back again.

You fear that he might kiss you. That he might change everything. That you might let him.

Clearing your throat abruptly, it seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in and he looks just as startled as you do, taking a step back.

“Alright! Bye Steve! Love you!” you rush out as you practically shove your bags inside your foyer and slam the door. As you lean against it, you hear a muttered ‘shit’ as he makes his way back to his car.

Now

New Years Eve

1987

Despite the party being relatively small, just your friend group and a few friends of friends, the house was lively with music and laughter. On the television inside Steve’s entertainment center was the CBS broadcast of the New Years Eve ball drop in New York City.

A game of ‘spin the bottle’ was being played on the floor of the living room. “For old time’s sake!’ Eddie had claimed. You were skeptical, but a boy in the group whose name might have been James, had caught your eye earlier in the night. You thought maybe this could be it. After years of pointless or just downright awful dates, maybe this would be the ‘meet-cute’ you’d been waiting for.

‘Little Lies’ by Fleetwood Mac was playing distantly from the speakers in the kitchen, and then it was finally your turn to spin. You glance up at James before you take your turn, watching him throw a smirk in your direction. What you can’t see, is Steve in your peripheral glaring daggers at him. He’d watched him flirt with you all night, whether you’d realized it or not. It had completely soured his mood, and edged him to pick a fight even if he knew it wouldn’t be fair.

You give the empty coke bottle on the carpet a tentative spin, making it clear who you're aiming for; and when it lands on James, no one’s surprised. Slowly, you rise onto your knees and crawl forward with your hands, just far enough for you to reach out to him. The vodka in your stomach makes you brave as you reach for his face with both hands, and kiss him deeply. He tastes like cigarettes and spearmint gum when he licks into your mouth, earning the two of you wolf whistles and hollers from your surrounding circle of friends.

When the adolescent game is abandoned, your friends opting for one that gets them drunk faster, you decide to sit out for a round. Steve had been muddling around the kitchen for the past 30 minutes, pretending to clean up nonexistent solo cups and dishes.

‘Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies’

“Hey,” you say lightheartedly as you sit down on one of the stools surrounding the island. If Steve heard you, he didn’t acknowledge your presence.

“So, are you two together?” he still doesn’t bother turning to look at you when he asks.

“What?”

He finally looks at you, expression is unreadable, “You and fuckin’ Bruce Springsteen over there. Are you together?”

What? Dude no-- I barely know him,”

“Sure looked like you knew him with his damn tongue down your throat.” he spits, turning back to the nearly empty garbage bag he had been pretending to throw things in to busy his hands.

He could count on one hand the amount of times you two had genuinely argued, and the heat crawling the back of his neck was starting to feel an awful lot like guilt.

“I’m sorry, what the hell is your problem?” you spit back at him, getting defensive now.

He glares at you, long and hard, “Nothing just-- nevermind. Forget it,”

What's that saying? ‘Loose lips sink ships’? You think what might sink this ship is you, and too much alcohol.

“No. You do not get to do that,” your words slur together ever so slightly, alcohol churning in your stomach, “that’s not fair.” Tears prick the corners of your eye, your voice wobbling at the end of your sentence. It practically tears him in two.

Before he can get a word in edgewise, you’re vomiting a drunken confession. One you swore you’d never make, on the basis that it could change everything you and Steve worked so hard to build.

“God forbid I get to be happy right? That after years! Fucking years, Steve, of pining after you, that someone might like me! That someone might give me the goddamn time of day. That I might love someone who isn’t you!”

“What?” The sincerity and the slight quiver in his tone is almost enough to completely extinguish your anger. If you were fire, Steve was water. He was your Achilles Heel.

The realization of what you just confessed hits you a second too late, and even though you’re practically shouting, you have no one's attention except for Steve’s. Swiping your drink off the granite countertop you storm through the sliding glass door that leads to the Harringtons’ spacious backyard, deciding you need some air. Need to be anywhere except in that stifling kitchen with Steve.

“Wait no– please,” you hear Steve call after you. You don’t stop, you don’t turn around. Beelining for the gate that leads to the driveway, and then to the road. The January air was frigid; it gnawed and bit harshly at your exposed skin but you didn’t care. You just needed to be home.

You could hear Steve’s heavy footfall not far behind you, he was jogging to keep up. Not a chance that he was letting you walk home alone. Someday the world will end, and it will feel just like this does. You spin around to face him, cheeks stained with black streaks of mascara and nose bright red from the cold.

“Y/N!” He sounded desperate calling after you. He felt desperate. Standing there in the middle of his empty, suburban street – Steve felt terribly, consumingly desperate.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Steve strides towards you with a determination you’ve never seen in him. Before you can blink, his warm hands are grasping both sides of your face and his lips are crashing into yours with a passion that only comes from longing. A fervor that only comes from pining and anticipation.

When he pulls away he looks frightened; like he had come to his senses. Before he can start to ramble apologies, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him back with the same ferocity he met you with moments ago.

He stumbles back with you, only separating for measly gasps of air between kisses and suddenly you feel the cool metal of his BMW against your exposed back. Strong arms cage you in as he fumbles with the door to the backseat. You don’t hesitate to climb in after him when he finally manages it open.

Straddling him on soft leather, your thighs bracketed each of his. His lips move south as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of your neck, to just below your ear, to your collarbones.

His hands travel slowly up your thighs, and just before breaching the hem on your dress he pants, “Is this okay?” You relish in how wrecked he sounds already, barely having touched you yet. You respond with a breathy ‘yes’.

His nimble fingers find the zipper of your dress in a blissful sense of deja vu. This time though, there’s an eagerness in his touch. A need to map every inch of your skin like he’s committing it to memory.

He slows for a moment, like you both remembered the situation you’ve found yourselves in. His usual hazel eyes have darkened to a deep brown that sucks you in; their very own gravitational pull. He pulls the sleeves of your dress slowly down your shoulders and glances up in a silent ask before letting the fabric fall the rest of the way; exposing your breasts. Just as his eyes are raking over your newly exposed skin – as if he has a sixth sense for being cockblocked – he reverses his action; making an effort to cover you before you hear a ‘tap tap tap’ on the fogged window.

Behind the glass is a blurry picture of Robin and Eddie. To say they look smug is an understatement.

“Fucking finally,” Eddie says, exasperated. You try to hide from your embarrassment in the crook of Steve’s neck, like a kid having been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Robin sends you a poorly concealed wink as she elbows Eddie’s ribs – even more poorly concealed.

“C’mon. You owe me ten bucks,” you hear her mumble as the pair saunter away from the BMW, leaving you and Steve back to your ‘nefarious activities’ as Robin would say.

You try to protest at Steve rezipping your dress but he cuts you off before your complaints, “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in my car,” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“If you insist,” teasing him a little, you poke his chest, “Bruce Springsteen,”

“Not funny,” he tries to deadpan, but the smirk permanently on his lips gives him away, “You know I'm way more of a Tom Cruise.”

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ddollfface · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝙋𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Okay, right now I'm cooking up some more headcanons for Baki the Grappler men, but I just couldn't keep this idea cooking in my brain.

Throughout history, in multiple ancient civilizations, touching one's forehead with one's own has shown different means, all deep and personal. For example, the Maori, natives of New Zealand, have/had a formal greeting where one would press their nose and forehead against the other's forehead. This was a sign of respect and sharing a spiritual connection. Not only that, but in Ancient Egypt, it was a tradition for the Paraoh and High Priests to press their foreheads to the dead, sharing a spiritual link that would hopefully help the dead through the afterlife.

Honestly, the list goes on and on, just proving my point. No matter where you are in the world, it's clear that something about the closeness of the faces while in such a position is special, vulnerable even. And, I'd have to assume, this would carry through to times before human civilization, to a time when we were more animal than human, back to Pickle's time.

At this time, there was no such thing as verbal communication, rather than grunts and growls, so they (assuming that there were other cavewo/men during this time) had only physical communication to observe. Now, it's my belief that there was no such thing as polyamory during Pickle's time, instead, there was mating for life. You found your one, the person you'd raise a family with and protect. This is why Pickle takes your safety seriously, not letting any of the fighters within a ten-foot radius of you (likely more, if we're being honest).

There's no way he'll let any man near you. You're his mate, whether you understand that or not doesn't matter; the look in his eyes tells you enough, accepting that you have no say in the matter.

Besides that, I think that Pickle, seeing as he can't communicate verbally, would show his affection through his actions, providing food, warmth, and protection is his means of love. He'll curl his body around your, much smaller, frame and hold you tight, not letting you slip from his grip for a moment, far too afraid of losing you. He's much like a possessive puppy once his owner comes home, except he's far more deadly than some pup.

Back to the forehead thing, since Pickle can't say 'I love you,' he has to resort to other ways to say so. One of these ways, I think, would be pressing his forehead against yours, letting his eyes close shut, and bringing your body closer to his.

The two of you will be far closer than necessary, his arms wrapped around your head, his hold suffocating. Of course, Pickle will have to be on his knees, bending down to reach your level. The two of you will share air, inhaling the others' exhalations. Though uncomfortable, you admire and are astonished at how trusting Pickle is in you, seeing as his eyes are closed and his muscles loose. Everything about him screams comfortable, homey, and in love.

The action displays trust, exposing such a vulnerability would be dangerous in any situation, but Pickle trusts you, knowing you're his mate, the one person he can trust in this cruel world. He's been brought into this odd place, where nothing's the same, and he's constantly being introduced to new friends, but he's found you. Your presence allows him to relax and understand that, though he's in a new world, he has you, his mate. (I especially see this being true if reader's a reincarnation or was brought back with Pickle, y'know?)

And it does nothing but shock the other fighters, unable to comprehend how a monster of a man like Pickle could seem so calm, so at home, around someone like you (whether you're a cavewo/man, civilian, or fighter). It's incredible, the bond you two have for each other, how just a look from you can calm Pickle.

Anyway, it's just a thought, y'know?

divider by: @benkeibear

#pickle x reader #baki x reader #baki the grappler #yandere male #drabble #bad writing #not proofread #pickle baki #yandere pickle #baki son of ogre #lovesick #baki hanma #baki headcanons #baki dou #x reader #yuujiro x reader #divider by @benkeibear

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kabr0ztrousers · 4 months ago

Note

Can I get some dubcon ball sucking with a fem reader and a large monster? For the monster I'll let you choose BUT it has to be one you haven't written about yet.

Kabr0z Writes episode 74: Loxodon Warhammer

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: fellatio; dubcon; size difference; alcohol use; intox; anal sex

A/N: Writer's block has been absolutely kicking my ass today, so please enjoy the easiest thing close to the top of the requests queue :D I'm just happy I thought of a loxodon as a potential creature that meets both requirements!

#####################################

Fun fact: elephants have prehensile penises. You discovered this the fun way.

It started as all good nights do: in a smoky nightclub, populated by all sorts of human variants. They wouldn't normally let a baseliner like yourself in, but you knew the bouncer so as long as you didn't get weird with any of the patrons you'd be allowed. Too many issues with so-called monsterfuckers being pushy and putting people off. Just because someone has fur, a wolf head, and hardware to match, doesn't mean they're always down to fuck. So, places like this started up for variants to meet and spend their money on overpriced lager and cocktails. You weren't the only baseliner in the place, sure, but you wouldn't get in without someone vouching for you, be that a guest or a member of staff.

Now, you weren't allowed to hit on anyone, but that didn't mean you weren't allowed to be hit on. Plenty of variants start a night looking to avoid baseliners, but get enough drinks in anyone and they'll start looking to get lucky. As you stood at the bar, short skirt strategically rumpled at the back to give a good view of your pastel-pink thong as it separated your asscheeks, that's precisely what you were counting on.

You'd expected a lupine to make a move on you, maybe an equine, maybe even a felinid though they tend not to frequent places like this. What you hadn't expected was half a tonne of man in a tailored suit and the head of an elephant to step up behind you. Loxodons tend not to be party people, and it's not hard to see why. You're not small, about 5'8 and about 80kg, but this man dwarfed you in every respect. He must have been at least 8 or 9 foot, and was so broad two of you could stand abreast and still hide behind his immense bulk.

He offered you a drink, you accepted. Then another, and another. You got to talking. He was a postdoc from a few cities over, in your neck of the woods for a conference. It seems like it went well enough, he sure wasn't holding back on the drinks. Every fruity cocktail he bought you, he'd get two or three pints of beer, swigging them back with gusto. He was apparently a civil engineer with a speciality in bridge design, he'd been teaching classes for a few years including supervising a PhD student. He'd also been single for several years.

It finally got to kicking-out time: the early hours of the morning, after the band had packed up and left, long past the last train that would get you home safe, clinging to the sleeve of the massive elephant-man steering you towards his hotel. You remember him swiping his keycard to get in, then again in the lift to bring you both up to his room. The double bed was made, the sheets smelling of detergent as you fell onto it. He didn't bother moving your skirt, sliding the thong down your legs and past the six-inch heels on your feet. His trunk brushed your pussy, already wet with drunken anticipation. Your blouse was next, lifting over your spinning head, then your bra, deftly unfastened with one surprisingly nimble hand before being cast aside.

You lay there, barely able to move in your stupor. Feeling the soft sheets on your bare skin as he undressed himself. Two strong hands pulled your face up into his crotch. The musky skin of his ballsack smothered you. Every breath in bore the warm smell of his sweat. You opened your mouth, tasting him as he held you to him. You tried to pull away from him, but he wasn't done. You couldn't get a proper breath, every attempt filling your mouth and nose with the pliant skin pressed against you. Your hands slapped against his thigh. He pulled you away from him as you gasped for air. It was then you noticed it hanging above you, swaying slightly as it did. Your mouth hung open as he held you, transfixed by the huge, thick cock above you.

It curved down, the tip brushing your lips. You opened a little wider, allowing it to press between your lips, stretching your jaw open as he repositioned you. He was barely in you, but already at the back of your mouth, the flare at your tonsils. Your gags only spurred him on, massaging his tip with your mouth. Your eyes watered and he started grunting as precum leaked out, filling your mouth as his balls churned.

The cock popped out of your mouth, moving with a will of its own as it slathered precum and spit over your face, mingling with your tears and streaking your eyeliner down your face. He turned you around, bending you over the bed. One hand spread your asscheeks as his member pressed up against it, the end flexing against the tight hole as he applied his weight behind it, working himself in to you. You cried out into the sheets as he stretched your inexperienced asshole, the girth of it feeling as though he may tear you open. His hands were on your hips, shoving his immense length into you, pushing this way and that. Your hand was on your clit, numbly rubbing yourself, pushing through the pain in pursuit of your release. The sound of your fingers slopping over your wet cunt spurred him on, pushing harder as he picked up speed.

Your cries turned to moans as you gradually became accustomed to the aggressive fucking the loxodon was subjecting you to. You could feel your toes starting to curl as your ass rose up to meet him, even as he was already over a foot inside you. Your body shook around him, your breath catching and heart pounding as your moans turned back to screams of release.

The elephant behind you didn't last long with you crying and clenching. He roared as he rammed another six inches into you, making you cry out in surprise and pain. Cum started to flow from him, and didn't stop. Spurt after spurt, each one pumping two or three ounces of hot, sticky seed into your ass. You could feel it sloshing around, causing you to swell and bloat as over three litres of fluid was shot into you. You thought you could taste it, but maybe that's just your imagination.

He lifted you into his great arms before lying back onto the bed. He was soft, and warm, like a huge waterbed. His cock stayed in you for hours, shrinking so slowly after he fucked the energy out of you. You dozed off on top of him.

You woke without him in the morning, with an aching ass and a note on the pillow next to you. He had an early train, but left his phone number.

Just in case.

#######################################################

Well, this one took me all day, so the promised Sunday Spectacular ain't happening tonight. Maybe I'll start something tonight and finish it tomorrow, maybe not.

I'll catch up, don't worry

By the way, this is what a Loxodon looks like

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honeywyrdie · 1 year ago

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Sweet Spot {part 1}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: You're putting together the floral arrangements for your ex's wedding as a favor, forgetting how passive aggressive he can be about your love life. Fortunately for you, one of your best friend's in the world comes over to feed you sugar and make you a sweet offer to get back at your ex. genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint // word count: 2.8k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes, wet dream // a/n: Trying out something longer and fluffier this time! If you'd like to be on the taglist, reply to this post or send me an ask 🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

You should have never agreed to do this. Your fingers were sore from wire wrapping all the different bouquets, one for each bridesmaid, the ring bearer’s pillow, and the flower girl. So far, you were only halfway done with the floral arch and hadn’t even gotten to start on the table settings yet. There were bits of torn leaves, crushed flower petals, and feathers strewn around your apartment, trying to deal with the last minute changes in aesthetic that the bride asked for.

The shift from a classic summer bouquet to something more bohemian wasn’t impossible, but it was a challenge with the wedding a week away. It definitely wasn’t your favorite aesthetic in the world, but you were determined to make it work.

The question of why you had agreed to do this at a quarter of your normal fee was beginning to fester in your mind, especially for your ex’s wedding.

You and Johnny were amicable, sure. Civil might be a better word for it. You didn’t have any leftover romantic feelings for the man - that ship had sailed ages ago. The main problem you had now with him is that he always seemed to be in competition with you, always trying to steal your thunder or diminish your accomplishments. It was always underhanded and passive aggressive and you didn’t have the energy to really push back.

Speaking of the devil, your phone pings with a text message.

❌J: hey y/n, just checking in about the florals. Jenny is freaking out and wants an update you: working on them now! [image attached] ❌J: wow! Hard at work! Is this the bride’s bouquet? you: yep! Putting the finishing touches on it now’s ❌J: it looks really busy, are you sure this is what she asked for? you: yes. I promise I’m following her vision that we spoke about during our last consultation. ❌J okay! just making sure! I know some of these changes need a quick turn around. ❌J: oh also… ❌J: i wanted to chat with you about something you: ? ❌J: I know things have been a little rough in the dating department for you lately but you still officially have a plus one to the wedding, in case you wanted to bring your sister or someone! you: …thanks. you: Don’t know where the idea that I’m struggling with dating came from, but I appreciate the plus one. ❌J: I had just heard through the grapevine is all. ❌J: there’s someone out there for everyone! You’ll find them eventually. ❌J: like me and Jenny! We were just made for each other 💕 you: okay, Johnny! Great chatting, I’ll get back to work now!

You swipe out of the text thread and pinch your brow, the feeling of a building tension headache settling right between your eyes. His audacity is always bewildering, he can have such a sickeningly sweet tone while making sure to get a jab or two in to hurt you.

Sure, you haven’t had a solid relationship since the two of you broke up, but he doesn’t have to rub your nose in it. The relationship ended amicably enough once you both graduated from college, realizing that the two of you were drifting apart as you pursued your respective careers. Staying civil made it easier to maintain the friend group, neither of you had any real reason to be upset with the other. That didn’t mean you were close, you still kept your distance.

When he had gotten engaged, you were genuinely pleased for him, and a little relieved. Sometimes, when you’d run into each other at parties, he would make it a point to find you and tell you how well he was doing. You’d get the feeling that he was trying to showboat his accomplishments - he always wanted to tell you all about his successes, all the great things going on in his life.

He got a great job at some law firm, a promotion and another promotion. Then he had met Jenny, they got engaged, and wasn’t it just so cute that their names were so similar? Jenny and Johnny, Johnny and Jenny! It became their whole personality as a couple and he’d corner you to tell you about how amazing she is and how he had never met anyone who just got him like she did. Every time you’d deal with this, you felt like he had poured corn syrup on you with how saccharine he sounded.

He’d hear about your ebb and flow of love and give you such a pitying look. “Oh you haven’t been dating? That’s too bad, there’s someone out there for everyone! Just look at me and Jenny!” Just throwing small digs in your direction that flew under the radar for most of your friends.

But you knew.

You knew he was always trying to make you feel like you had “lost” the break-up.

~~~

A knock at the door brings you back to the present moment.

“Y/n~! It’s me! Open up,” a deep voice lilts in a sing-song voice.

You shake your head, trying to snap out of your shitty mood to answer the door. On your doorstep is one of the best things that came into your life with his ice blond hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up an entire room. Before you can say anything, Felix barges past you into your apartment, holding two paper bags with the bakery’s logo on it.

“I brought some new flavors for you to try, I’m experimenting for the springtime,” he says as he starts unpacking travel pastry boxes with different colored cakes inside.

“Ugh, please don't talk to me about weddings right now,” you sigh. He pauses his unpacking.

“What’s up? You sound like someone kicked your dog.”

“I just had the most passive aggressive interaction with my ex, Johnny.”

You open the text thread to show him.

“This is your ex?”

“Yep.”

“Damn, he’s not even being subtle about it.”

“Nope.”

The room is silent for a split second before Felix brightens up again.

“Well fuck that, the flowers look great, despite the boho bad taste. Come try these new cake flavors I’ve been playing with! Sugar always cheers me up.”

You give him a small smile, he always knows exactly how to bring a little optimism into a shitty situation. “Sure Felix, what have you got for me?”

Soon, you have 4 plates and forks out for the different cake concoctions.

“I’ve been playing around with different florals and citrus for spring, so here we have a lavender cake with key lime frosting. Over here, we have an earl grey cake with lemon curd and lemon buttercream. Then we’ve got a vanilla cake with a pistachio filling and a rose buttercream. Finally we have a jasmine green tea cake with yuzu curd and a vanilla glaze,” Felix says, bouncing on his toes.

“Okay, Mary Berry! They all sound delicious.”

“You have to be one hundred percent honest with me, I want actual feedback on these!” He grabs your shoulders and looks deep into your eyes, your heart skipping a beat briefly at his intensity. He looks so eager for you to try his different concoctions. Most couples weren’t looking for anything too extreme in the way of flavors, most opting for a basic white cake and buttercream, so you knew Felix loved to share the uncommon combinations he came up with.

They were all so beautiful, perfectly cut out and frosted with care. You picked up your fork enthusiastically.

“Fuck, Felix, that’s delicious,” you say, savoring the citrus flavors. Every single one you tried was more delicious than the last. Your favorite had to be the earl grey and lemon. “This one tastes like how a springtime tea party feels.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling into little crescent moons, his freckles stand out when he smiles so brightly.

“Thanks, it’s always nice when I get to play around with flavor,” he says, leaning back into his seat. As he stretches, his shirt rides up to reveal a small expanse of the bare skin where his hip meets his lower belly, the lean muscle definition standing out in the lamp light. You tear your eyes away when you realize you’ve been lingering your gaze on the scant inch of skin.

“Oh my god, did tell you?” Felix blurts out suddenly. “I’ve been working with this couple for an upcoming wedding. Absolute nightmare. Terrible taste! Guess what they finally settled on for their flavor.”

“I don’t know, something basic I bet.”

“Fucking mint chocolate chip.”

“Mint chocolate??? For a cake???” You reel back in horror. What on earth kind of combo was that for a wedding cake?

“They insisted on it!” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “Well, the bride did. The groom was never at any of these sampling appointments. She was onher own and really pushing for something unique.”

“I guess it’s unique to make your guests hate you for your choice of cake flavor,” you say, grimacing at the thought of a mint chocolate cake. “Disgusting.”

“I feel bad for their wedding guests. That’s such a controversial flavor for ice cream, I can’t imagine how it’ll go down for the entire reception.”

You hum in agreement, picking up your fork and finishing off the last of your cake in one frosting heavy bite.

“Y/n you’ve got a little-“ he reaches up, gently holding your chin.

His gaze softens as he looks at your lips and you freeze in place. Your heart picks up speed, hammering in your chest, at this gentle touch. He doesn’t know that you have had a thing for him for years now, but you’ll never tell him. You love having him as a friend too much to ruin it, he’s the one spot of sunshine on dreary days. There’s no chance he’d reciprocate your feelings, he could literally date anyone the way strangers constantly fall in love with him at first glance.

But right now, he’s focused on your lips, his thumb brushing them carefully, swiping the bit of frosting that was left from your last bite.

“Oh my god!” You force out a laugh, pulling out of his grasp in embarrassment. Taking a napkin, you start furiously wiping your mouth. “Sorry! It was really good!”

“That’s the perfect kind of response to one of my baked goods!” He smiles, licking the frosting off of his thumb. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Felix never seems to notice the effect he has on people, overwhelming charm, the magnetic pull he has on anyone within 10 ft of him. When the two of you worked at the old cafe together, you’d take a mental tally of the number of customers that would leave with hearts in their eyes after ordering coffee from him. You thought that after five years of friendship you could get used to it via exposure therapy, but his allure slams you in the chest all the time. You try to keep yourself grounded in reality when he tugs at heartstrings like this - he does this with everyone so you try not to lose your head. But the way he’s looking at you now, leaning in close with fierce affection in his eyes, makes the delusion that he feels the same about you seem almost real.

You giggle nervously and move to tidy things up from the table after you two are done sampling. Felix leans against the counter, watching you, as you start washing the plates.

“I have an idea,” he says. “For your plus-one situation.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“What if you take me as your date?”

“Be serious, Felix,” you chuckle.

“I am being serious, I clean up real good,” he says, grabbing at your waist playfully.

“Oh!” A fork slips out of your hand and clatters into the sink. “I mean- you don’t have to do that.”

“Nah, I’d like to! Think about it, it’d be perfect, Johnny has no idea who I am and I can brag you up while I’m there. Rub his nose in it for a change.”

“I-“

“Just think it over, no rush. I think it’d be real fun though!”

You look at him blankly for a moment, your heart thumping in your chest again. “ Yeah, I’ll think it over.”

~~~

Your eyes are closed when you feel a pair of hands slink around your body, drawing you into a chest of hard, lean muscle. The scent like an apple orchard on a rainy autumn morning greets you, petrichor and wood mixed with something crisp and sweet, enveloping you in a sense of comfort. You look up to see who’s arms embrace you to find Felix hovering over you, deep brown eyes locked onto yours. You’re so close you could count the freckles on his cheeks and give a name to each one. He hums as he pulls you in closer, a deep resonance vibrating through his chest, warming you in more ways than one.

Tell me it’s real, he says, almost silently.

It’s real, you reply.

He leans down to capture your lips, pausing above you to nudge his nose against yours and smile.

I’ve waited so long for this, he says as he finally presses his lips against yours softly. His movements are gentle but insistent, trying to communicate with you, speaking quietly of the years of yearning that have been building. Your skin sings with the way his hands splay on your lower back, pushing your pelvis into him as he presses his tongue against your lips, asking for permission. The kiss deepens and you fall further into him, molding yourself against him. Your hands wind their way into his hair, those ice blond strands wrapped up in your grasp.

A small tug has him detaching from your mouth in a gasp, arching into you ever so slightly as his eyes flutter shut. His fingers find purchase in your plush hips, gripping into you harshly as he yanks you even closer to his body, no space between your body and his. Your breasts press into him, feeling his every breath move against you. He groans at the feel of you before he wraps you up into another kiss, this one more fervent. The way your soft body fits against his so well has his tongue dancing with yours, surging into you then backing away, teasing you until your body feels like it’s on fire.

You whimper into his mouth when he shifts, coaxing your feet apart to slot his thigh between your legs. He bears down on your hips, pressing your core against his flexed muscle. Liquid heat pools in your belly as he starts rocking against you, feeling his length against your hip, pleading for friction. His hands snake down to grab onto your ass, kneading into the thick flesh, controlling the pace of your grinding into him.

You feel that arousal building inside of you, the tension has you clenching while you rut your hips against him. You feel how wet your panties have become as they slide over your clit, your hips stuttering against him, nearing your peak.

Felix, I’m- you start to say but he cuts you off with a kiss.

Come for me, y/n, he murmurs against your lips. I want all of you. I wanna feel you lose control.

His words have you moaning, your brow furrowing as your hips shake. He holds you steady as he bounces his leg slightly to add extra pressure. You gasp, feeling your muscles tighten.

Give it all to me, he whispers against your lips. It belongs to me.

His voice sounds distant as you feel yourself coming to the edge.

Suddenly, your eyes flutter open. You find yourself in bed, thrusting pitifully against your pillow, your heart racing and your skin flush with arousal. As you start to pull yourself out of the dream you were so wrapped up in, your orgasm shatters through you, moaning into the dark of your room. Your legs shake as your core muscles flutter, throbbing at the thought of Felix’s mouth on yours. As you start to come down from your high and settle into reality, you can feel your own pulse in your clit, your legs tangled in your sheets with a pillow between your legs, forehead glistening with sweat.

It felt so real, like you could actually feel the ghost of his hands on your ass rocking you against his body, his groans ricocheting in your chest. You haven’t had a dream like that in ages, it was so vivid. You wanted it to be real so badly.

That settles it. You reach for your phone, the light piercing through the darkness, staring at the clock that reads 4:26 AM. Opening your messaging app, you type out a quick text and hit send.

you: okay Felix, let’s do it. Will you be my plus one?

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #felix x reader #felix smut #stray kids fanfic

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