#mel fanfic

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello! I adore your writing. Can I request a fic with female arcane characters when they have a touch starved gf? (Definitely asking for a friend ahah 😅)

RAHHH. ARCANE LADIES LETS GOOO. tbh, im not that in tune with Mel and Sevika as characters so they may be OOC. Thanks for requesting!

Arcane Ladies w/A Touch-Starved Reader | Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, and Sevika with a touch-starved lover and/or discovering said trait.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended (Kinda?), Suggestive Themes (Mel/Sevika), Not Proofread, Short

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX ᝰ๋࣭𝜗᭡

- In a romantic setting (or really any setting), Jinx is touch-starved herself.

- when taking hostages or messing with those in her way, she will often touch them such as stroking her nail along their jawline or grabbing their chin when they're hurt and on their last limb.

- now she does this not because she's a bit insane and wants to add salt to their wounds but because she's curious. "What would this feel like?" "What would happen if I do this?"

- Much like most things in her life, curiosity is the main thing that gets her into trouble

- in terms of touching, you're not exempt from her touching curiosity.

- she'll drag her nails along your spine. cup your cheek and chin, and squeeze you like the baby you are to her.

- it's not until you linger after a hug that she notices your touch-starved like her

– since that moment, she made a mental note to cuddle you, kiss you, or poke at you more

– even if you tell her to stop annoying you or that she should focus on her work and not mess with you, she'll continue to poke and hold you.

– why? well because you're smiling through your complaints and she can't get over that smile you try to hide when you let yourself melt in her touch

–––

VI ﾒ

– much like her sister, Vi is touch-starved herself.

– y'all saw how she acted with Caitlyn and when she reunited with Jinx. She was all OVER them. With you, she's the exact same

– With her, you're more reluctant with touch. You want to hug her, cuddle with her, cling onto her like the clingy thing you are but you're scared to.

– you didn't grow up in an environment where that was normalized so it was out of your comfort zone to go out and cling to someone.

– in the beginning of your relationship, Vi was touchy until she noticed you weren't super comfortable with it.

– when she noticed, she had a discussion with you. – "Hey, are you comfortable with me hugging you 'n stuff? I noticed you get kinda tense when I first hug you." She'll ask you on a random night in the living room. You were hesitant at first, wanting to immediately ease her insecurities and tell her everything was fine.

– But if you lied, even if the lie was more a half-truth, your initial reaction to her touch would be the same. Tense at first then ease seconds into the touch.

– So, because you couldn't do anything but bite the bud, you told her

– Since telling, Vi said she'll help you work on getting more comfortable with touch.

– She'll even tease you when she notices you're more hesitant than normal.

– "Oh, come on," she'll tease you with her arms squeezing around your torso and your cheeks smushing to another. "You know you love it! Ease up, Mufifn."

–––

CAITLYN ᯓ

- With Caitlyn, you literally CANNOT get off of her. Can't blame you though.

- 6' foot something to cling onto? YUM.

- Caitlyn didn't mind your touchiness. She assumed you were that way so she didn't think anything of it.

- It wasn't until she met your family that she saw that your touchy side is something you keep hidden from your family, if not the world.

- You were so stiff around them, uncomfortable dare she say. You kept to yourself, restricted that pretty smile of yours, and you wouldn't let yourself ease into her touch.

- At home, she brought this up to you and you told her that being affectionate wasn't something your family did. To them, holding each other, hugging, expressing hellos and goodbyes with kisses was weird. Unfortunately for you, you're a naturally touchy person so you had to keep that part of you concealed.

- Caitlyn didn't like the thought of you hiding yourself from your blood kin. You didn't deserve that treatment so at home, after the event, Caitlyn went out of her way to be more touchy with you.

- she cradled your head when cuddling on the couch, gave you kisses on the cheek, and when she complimented you on something or congratulated you, she kissed the top of your head while giving you a polite squeeze.

– being super-duper-mushy-gushy-affectionate wasn't something she wasn't used to but she'll do anything for you. Plus, a couple extra kisses and squeezes haven't killed her yet.

–––

MEL౨ৎ

- You didn't care about touch all that much before your relationship with Mel. At the start of your relationship, you and Mel were younger so you had fewer responsibilities. All your free time, literally all of it, you guys spent with each other

- walking arm-in-arm while shopping, resting on each other on hot Summer days with your feet in a body of water, and mindlessly playing with each other's clothes or hair during late-night talks.

- but as she got busier, you saw her less, and seeing her less meant fewer touches.

- Mel wouldn't call herself touch-starved but starved for your touch.

– She'll miss your lingering touches on her fingers while you lay in bed, your lips on her back as you held each other, and your face in the crook of her neck.

– In a way, you both were touch-starved for each other. Maybe even a different word but this is a PG-13 space LMAO.

– at night, you would wrap your limbs around her tight and in the morning, you'd cling even tighter. What do you mean it's time for her to go already? She just got in bed!! (it's been 7 hours.)

– with Mel, your touch-starving-ness doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, whenever there's a time she notices you're more touchy than normal, she'll make it up to you

– And you never once complained about her way of making it up to you.

–––

SEVIKA ⚠︎

- oh lord, where do i start with this one, hm?

– One, Sevika loves the crap out of your touch-starved-ness. She won't admit this out loud but she thinks its the cutest thing in the world.

- She'll see you go in for a hug or maybe a wrap around her arm but then decide against it because of your own insecurities.

- Sometimes she'll take matters into her own hands and wrap her arm around you, pull you into her lap, or sneak a kiss on your cheek but other times she likes to make you suffer.

– "Mm, what was that?" she'll tease with a smirk on her lips. "Oh, did you want to hug me? Kiss me? Cling onto me or something?"

- Tbh, if you're with Sevika, you gotta be a little bit of a brat, right? right. So, you'll refuse the allegations she put on your name.

- That is until she pushes and pushes and boom. Like a perfectly boiled egg, your shell has been cracked and peeled, and the softness of your personality has been brought to light.

– with embarrassment plastered along your body and face, you'll do what you were too shy to before. (Cling, hug, kiss, etc).

- Sevika plays a big game but she loves it when you cling to her because just like you, she's a bit touch-starved too. The only touches she gets on a day-to-day basis are punches, kicks, etc.

- When you swallow your pride at home, you'll pull her down to your chest and hold her tight. She'll ask what's up but you'll just ignore her and she'll melt into your body like you intended.

WC: 1,229

[thehistoriangirl]

The Never-Changing Things

I was supposed to write another thing, but this came out instead :D Hope you like it

Mel x gn!Reader--------1.6K-------SFW

Summary: You’re a musician under the clan Medarda’s wing, and while you haven’t touched the piano in a long time, you and Mel discover that there are some things that would never change regarding you two, no matter how much time has passed.

Tags: Light Angst, mostly Fluff| Mentions of one parent’s death (with no details)| Kinda domestic fluff (?)| Winter-y scenery

It has been a cold week, misty-stained the large windows dripping little tears made by the condensate water allowed you to see the city below. Between each melody of the piano, you heard the crackle of the hearth in the living room at your back.

Outside, blue roofs were filled with snow, mixing the buildings with their marble walls in an amorph, gigantic beast. Only the uneven little towers of the chimneys could be seen, slow, grey serpents ascending out of them.

Your fingers were warming up with each repetitive movement as you played the keys on the piano. The echo of each melody reverberating in the empty chamber like a ghost seconds after you stopped.

Mel told you the piano was there waiting for you to teach her—it was one of the many things Ambessa Medarda decided not to teach her in exchange for a more suitable activity.

You didn't dare to tell her that you barely remember the last time you have been sitting in front of a piano, the image of your mother teaching you diligently every afternoon even after she returned home exhausted being so hazy as Piltover’s view from the windows.

It had been so long, but your fingers moved with a memory of their own, your head nodding slightly as each note hit a correct harmony in the sequence of each little song you could recall.

Playing the piano wasn't a common activity to train your kid into, at least not inside Noxus, where other avocations were more useful, like languages, paleography, or even strategic games like chess. Only certain families—the ones already recognized to incline towards the arts—would do so. They were the background music inside the fancy parties organized by the wealthy clans and families.

No more utility than to maintain façades, but just as other props as expensive clothes, dignified portraits, or well-maintained gardens, these people would receive any collateral damage made to their patrons.

Your fingers got stuck in a loop of the last memory you could remember, an incomplete song your mother was teaching you a couple of days before her death. You frowned because the melody cut off abruptly every time you played it, the end always remain unfinished.

You pressed the last key in ripples, not hearing Mel´s heels muffled by the large carpets that were put since autumn when the house became much colder.

She cleared her throat, and you let the echo of the piano disappear before half-turning. Mel wasn’t wearing any coat, and her hair was down.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

She sat on the couch closer to the piano, shaking her head slowly. "Don't worry, darling. I was working."

You frowned. “That’s not good. You should’ve been resting.” You sat back at your usual position, with your back toward her, and began to play again. “I remember you couldn’t sleep properly last night. I heard you.”

Mel sighed, and you had to hide your smile. “The doctor said it’s normal to have lingering coughs.”

“And? You shouldn’t wander around without a sweater unless you want to get the flu again.”

She stood up, taking the coat you had lay next to you. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take this one then.”

Back on the couch, she crossed her legs, the gold in her armor shining as if it were molten against the everchanging flames Mel sat across from. A yellowish art notebook sat on her lap as she flipped the pages filled with doodles in dark charcoal.

Mel had always written with so much force pressed into the papers, and you weren’t surprised her drawings followed the same principle.

“What are you doing?”

She chuckled, pencil already sliding graciously across the page. "What does it look like I'm doing, dear?"

You tilted your head, soft notes on repeat. Unconsciously you’d been changed the incomplete melody to what you remember was Mel’s favorite tune.

She noticed, smiling softly. “You still remember it.”

Your lips mimicked her smile as you observed your fingers move in synchronized moves, showing the tendons with each motion that resembled the piano’s insides. You felt like an instrument, then.

Outside, the wind began to howl. Night was falling quickly, the whole room was painted red and orange.

“When we were little, you’d escape after your lessons to hear me practice the same songs on repeat for hours.” You could hear the scraped paper; her breathing came with uneven little coughs she tried to hide as she crossed her legs to have her body completely covered by your coat. “I would never know how you didn’t get bored.”

You looked at her from the corner of your eyes. Her eyebrows pinched together in focus, lips forming a pout. It was the same expression back then.

“The music room was built to impress the guests while hosting parties," she said in a low tone. "That's why its windows were from roof to floor, framing the main garden. But…" Mel stopped, tapping the pencil against the notebook's spine. "It was also designed so beautifully that the musician could compose music efficiently. You can't fake inspiration like that if you want joyful, regal music."

"That's why it inspired you too, isn't it?" You kept her first drawing of you tucked somewhere inside your vanity, in the broken music box your parents gifted you on your twelfth birthday.

It was simple, and each time that Mel saw it you could see she got all flustered. Eyes averting yours, fingers fidgeting the Medarda’s ring. The charcoal was fading away, the paper crumbling apart, all as a result of not being made with specialized tools. But she tried, and you’ll always cherish that.

“When I was there, I could imagine I was somewhere else,” Mel muttered, and you stopped mid-song. She frowned, looking at you as you gazed at her. “What’s the matter?”

“If you’d ever have the chance, would you rather be a painter?” Because by choice, you wouldn’t have chosen to be a musician. You wanted to be useful to her outside playing for her in the spare time that each day was getting thinner, or to be praised by meaningless faces in each fundraiser she hosted. You didn't want to be only a pretty thing used as a mere decoration, even if for Mel you were more than that.

She contemplated the idea, looking at you and the flames of the hearth. "Probably not. I don't know. I can't imagine myself being something else than what I am now." Mel pressed her lips, nose crunching. "It's pointless."

You nodded, because she was right, as always. Those hypothetical scenarios stole you from sleep some nights, and now you knew that perhaps Mel suffered from them, too.

"But no. Even if I could rethink my choices, I would take them all the same. Because if I weren't me, I wouldn't have the opportunity to know you."

You smiled, heart fluttering. “Maybe we would be a musician and a painter working for the same clan.”

She tilted her head, taking away locks of black, curly hair that covered her eyes. They pop out from behind her ear too fast, it was both cute and funny.

"In that case, I'd be jealous of you playing the piano for someone else."

“Oh. But it will be remedied easily. I'll just play for you alone when the patrons weren't home."

Mel chuckled, gazing back at her drawing. "I don't think we only deserve stolen moments with each other."

Your fingers, now warm and familiar with the piano were flying from key to key, the same river of melodies flowing on repeat as you nodded to her. “No, we don’t,” you muttered.

“Can you keep playing the one you’re playing?” she said after a couple of minutes.

“Of course.” So you did.

Looking out at the windows, you saw the streetlights shining between the navy blue of the snow reflecting the nocturnal sky, sometimes you could see your reflection when the flames took force and outshined the outside. You looked happy, a soft, almost secretive smile playing on your lips as you gazed at Mel's image, head tilted against one armrest, notebook hugged to her chest, eyes closed.

You repeated the song one last time, much slower, soothing her in a lullaby until your fingers itched with the impulse of covering her with a blanket. The echo of last note echoed in the room as you stopped, quietly tiptoeing toward her room to retrieve a blanket.

The couch was big enough for two people, comfortably sitting next to hers as you unfolded the blanket and covered both, taking your coat from her firm grasp just as well as the notebook.

Checking the charcoal, you noticed an almost identical copy of her first drawing. Where before the piano almost swallowed you, now you stood with the back straight taller than it, your face tilted toward her in a confident little smile.

You tilted your body to kiss her forehead, muttering: “I love you, Mel.”

She blinked with dormant eyes, smiling. "Come here to rest for a moment. I'm cold." You rest next to her, your head resting against her chest as the steady rhythm of her heart accompanied by the cracking fire lulled you to sleep.

It wouldn't have surprised you, that just some months after, in a fundraiser, you saw a full-color painting of that same drawing, almost covering one wall. Your dark clothes absorbed the red lights of the fire at your right, while your smiling face was bathed in silver moonlight. Outside, the world was a reign of white and blue, where you were the center of it all.

[maxivstappen]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝟏 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

featuring ; max verstappen , lando norris , oscar piastri , charles leclerc , carlos sainz , lewis hamilton , george russel , daniel ricciardo , franco colapinto

🎙️ :: this is nasty and the guys are horny. have fun (this is really smutty pls beware)

SUGGESTIVE !! TEXT MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

🎙️:: reblogs are heavily appreciated as always, thanks for reading !

taglist :: @norrisdriver <3

[pow-pow1111]

𝘼𝙍𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙀 𝙏𝙀𝙓𝙏𝙎- 𝙐𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙉𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙋𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠

Arcane x reader

Summary: you message them pretending to be a stranger hitting on them

Includes: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Ekko, Sevika

Note: So sorry that the pictures are so blurry!!!! I hope you can tell who everybody is, idk why the quality is so bad :(

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[you-know-honey]

Dance

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Jayce has a plan: convince Viktor to attend the most important charity party in Piltover. But, as expected, Viktor refuses. What he didn't expect was that his assistant would show up at his workshop with a dazzling dress… and an invitation that Jayce secretly gave her. Could he really refuse now?

N/A: English is not my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll update it. Remember share if you liked it.

Viktor was focused, hunched over his desk as he fine-tuned one of the delicate pieces of hexcore. The dim lamplight illuminated his tired face, with dark circles under his eyes and strands of hair falling across his forehead. He didn’t notice Jayce’s entrance until the echo of the door closing resonated through the workshop.

“Viktor, old friend,” Jayce said, his tone bright and already foreshadowing trouble. “I have news.”

“If it has to do with that charity party, the answer is still no,” Viktor replied without looking at him, adjusting the tool in his hand.

Jayce sighed dramatically, dropping his weight into one of the nearby chairs.

“Mel has insisted that we go. We represent the future of Piltover, remember? Innovators, role models…” Jayce made a wide gesture with his hands, as if he were giving a speech.

“If Mel insists, you can represent us alone,” Viktor replied indifferently. He knew he wasn’t really required here, inviting him was just a formality. Then he looked up and looked at him seriously. “I don’t have time for parties, there’s a lot of work to finish here.”

Not to mention that dancing was something he had crossed off the list of things he could still do.

His friend really wanted Viktor to go, mostly because he had been very down lately, he barely left the lab and there were days where he would find him with his face on his notebooks after falling asleep at some point in the early morning, he was the first to arrive and the last to leave, if he ever did.

Jayce watched him in silence for a moment, before giving him a sly smile.

“Okay, I understand. You can’t just drop your projects. But what if I gave you a reason to go?”

Viktor frowned, distrusting his tone.

—What kind of reason?

Jayce didn't answer. Instead, his smile widened as he glanced towards the door of the workshop, as if he was waiting for something. He had recently discovered what he thought was a clue to the kind of feelings Viktor had for you, the long longing glances, the little smiles, the casual approaches of his hands, he answering any of your curiosities and letting you sing soft melodies while he worked were all very obvious clues to his eyes. Viktor followed the direction of his gaze just as the door opened.

And there you were.

Viktor felt the air leave his lungs. You weren’t wearing your usual practical attire. Instead, you were sporting an elegant iridescent white dress that flowed like water with your every move. The color perfectly complemented your skin tone, and the design highlighted your figure in a way Viktor couldn’t ignore. Your hair was delicately arranged, and a glint in your eyes suggested you was nervous, yet excited.

“Y/N?” Viktor asked, still processing what he was seeing.

You gave him a shy, yet warm smile.

“Jayce invited me as your date,” you said, your tone a mix of apology and expectation. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Viktor slowly turned to Jayce, who now wore an expression of unabashed triumph.

“What have you done?” Viktor asked, his voice low, but laced with disbelief.

“I gave you a reason to go,” Jayce replied, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. “I knew you wouldn’t accept if there wasn’t something… or someone to make the evening interesting for you.”

Viktor felt his face heat up as his thoughts struggled to organize themselves. Of course he felt a certain special affection for you. It had been a secret he had jealously kept, even from himself, and he had refrained from dwelling on it too much, after all they were coworkers. But now, seeing you there, so beautiful, waiting for his answer, completely disarmed him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Viktor,” you said softly. “I just thought it would be… nice.”

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. There was something in your tone that made him immediately doubt his usual refusal. For the first time in a long time, the idea of ​​getting away from his work, even for a few hours, didn’t seem so far-fetched. Mostly because he didn’t seem able to wipe that beautiful smile off your face by refusing. His mind searched for excuses for himself, to justify that he had now changed his mind, and that this change had nothing to do with you.

Finally, he stood up with the help of his staff, running a hand through his messy hair, although it didn't help much.

"If you insist…" he murmured, looking at you more than at Jayce. "I suppose I can make an exception."

Jayce smiled widely.

"Perfect. Now, change. You can't go dressed like that."

Viktor let out a resigned sigh as he took the suitcase that Jayce had left with his suit, in another attempt to convince him, but he couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his lips as he headed to the bathroom to change.

When he left he felt a little silly, he tried to arrange his hair in front of the mirror but it was totally impossible. Jayce see proudly that his plan had paid off, but the most important look for Viktor and the one he looked for as soon as he opened the door was yours. He watched your pupils dilate rapidly as you saw him come out in that elegant suit. Your hands went to your mouth trying to hide a smile. Viktor forced himself to look away to avoid them seeing the small blush that ran across his pale cheeks.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You quickly went to open one of the tool cabinets, rummaging through the back with the curious gaze of the boys behind you. After a moment, you pulled out a small box, and as if you were a little girl skipping, you approached Viktor with it. “I hope you like it.”

Viktor looked at you in surprise as he took the delicate box in his hands. He opened it delicately to discover a maroon tie between the strands of paper. His gaze traveled from the gift to you several times before giving you a warm smile as he took the tie between his slender fingers.

“Would you have the honor?” You nodded with a smile, as your hands took the tie you got closer to him, managing to smell the coffee aroma that you loved so much, you brought the tie behind his neck inside the collar of his shirt and tied it perfectly over his chest. “Thank you.”

The evening was everything Viktor had expected: lavish, loud, and filled with Piltover’s elites. Laughter and lively conversation echoed between walls adorned with gilded chandeliers and silk curtains. Viktor had always considered these events a waste of time.

When they arrived, Viktor could barely take his eyes off you. Jayce had already gone after the councilwoman, leaving them alone, as Viktor knew he would. His discomfort was evident in the way his hands played with the handle of his cane, which he tried to hide as soon as he began to walk through the crowd. You seemed to radiate confidence with every step, politely greeting the other attendees, as if these events were common for you.

Viktor, however, felt out of place. He held his cane tighter than usual, trying not to trip, but it was difficult given the state of his leg and the huge crowd.

“Relax,” you whispered with a reassuring smile as you tangled your arm through his. “Is it that bad?”

Viktor looked at you, his eyes softening instantly.

“Easy for you to say. You seem made for this.”

She let out a soft laugh.

“Not as much as you think. I’m just trying to look like it.”

A waiter passed by with a tray of wine glasses, taking a couple, offering another to Viktor. He reluctantly grew taller, though he hesitated before taking a sip.

From a safe distance, Jayce watched the scene with a satisfied smile. Mel approached him, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

“What did you do this time?”

“A little push in the right direction,” Jayce replied, nodding towards where you stood with Viktor.

Mel let out a light laugh, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know you were a matchmaker.”

Jayce said alarmingly, shrugging.

“I’m not. But sometimes, a man needs help to see what’s right in front of him.”

Meanwhile, you and Viktor had climbed the stairs to the second floor, so you were more isolated from the hustle and bustle, it was a big job for him, but he really wanted to get away from the crowd. Plus the second floor was an even more beautiful place than the main hall, full of huge stained glass windows and a balcony at the end.

“I never imagined I’d end up here,” you said, looking at the lights that dyed the floor thanks to the stained glass. “When I was a child, I looked at the towers of Piltover from Zaun and dreamed of seeing them up close.”

“Zaun leaves its mark on all of us,” Viktor said softly, his fingers drumming against the handle of his cane. “But it’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes, it pushes us to… be better.”

You looked at him with a shy smile, your eyes meeting his.

"Do you think we've accomplished that?"

Viktor was silent for a moment sighing before answering, then slightly tilted his head at you.

"You certainly have."

Your eyes widened in surprise, a slight blush coloring your cheeks.

"That's quite a compliment coming from you."

The sound of music filled the air, and the guests began to make their way to the main hall for the dance. Jayce didn't hesitate to take Mel's hand and head out onto the dance floor.

"It's time to dance" you said, looking over the railing at the rest of the guests dancing with their partners with some longing.

"I don't dance" Viktor answered immediately. It was one of the things he had crossed off the list of things he could still do.

You looked at Viktor, shaking your head.

"I can't…"he didn't like saying that at all, but he didn't want her to be disappointed for failing even in the attempt to do it, all his life he had known that those things weren't for him, so he didn't give himself the time to even try. "I'm sorry to disappoint you." Viktor approached the railing, to look at all those couples dancing next to you.

"Disappoint me?" you answered incredulously, carefully bringing one of your hands closer to his "I don't think you can ever do that."

Your pinky gently caressed his hand, it was okay if he didn't want to dance, you had already witnessed what the pain in his leg could cause him and you didn't want that to happen today. You were pleased to just have his presence by your side, that was enough for you.

Viktor sighed, feeling guilty for 'ruining your night' he looked at you and knew he had to take the risk. He reached out a hand to you, more shaky than he would have liked.

“This time I might try.”

You took his hand carefully, leading him away from the railing, to his own little dance floor. As the music continued, Viktor tried to focus on following your steps, but he realized his attention was completely fixed on you, the way you held his hand, the way he felt your body close to his, your warmth against the cold of your skin. He couldn't help but blush as he finally worked up the courage to look at your face, your smile, the way you looked at him as if he were more than just an inventor addicted to his work.

For the first time in a long time, Viktor allowed himself to let go of the cane that made an almost imperceptible sound as it fell to the ground, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the moment, by the sensations, by you. He forced his leg to be useful to him for the first time, slowly under the silver lights of the moon, the outside world faded away, the pressure of his work, everything that tormented him left him to live the moment with you.

"Viktor, your cane…" you rushed quickly to grab it, thinking that you had dropped it by mistake but his hand in yours stopped you.

"I want to try it like this." He said as he extended his other hand for you to take. You weren't sure if that was the best thing for him, but the confidence on his face, the way he looked as if he were begging you to let him live that moment like that ended up convincing you.

Jayce, watching the scene from a safe distance at the bottom of the stairs, smiled to himself.

"It's about time." he said before Mel appeared and he happily let himself be dragged back to the dance floor.

The dance continued, and although Viktor's movements were a little stiff, your slow, gentle movements managed to relax him little by little. Despite his lack of experience, Viktor was surprised to find a natural rhythm next to you. The murmur of the rest of the guests, the echo of laughter and conversations, faded as your eyes remained fixed on his, with your hands resting on his shoulders, and his own hands caressing your waist.

"See? It wasn't so terrible after all," you murmured with a smile as you buried your face in his neck.

Viktor looked down, his lips curving into a slight smile. But he knew he couldn't last much longer standing without his cane, he was starting to feel that stabbing pain in his leg, he tried to control it as best he could, he didn't want that moment with you to end.

"It's… bearable." He tried to keep his body as relaxed as possible, to avoid you noticing and he feeling like a dying man again.

You laughed, a sound so warm and sincere that it caused Viktor to have a strange tingle in his chest.

"Always so enthusiastic?" you joked.

"Maybe the environment has an influence" he answered, keeping his tone sarcastic but with an unusual softness that you didn't miss.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them as they continued to sway to the music. Viktor, normally so oblivious to social interactions, couldn't help but wonder how someone like you, so kind and brilliant, was more than comfortable being in his life. And more importantly, how he had been lucky enough to have you stay in it.

As the music began to become softer, both of their movements became slower, until they stopped completely. You stayed close, your hands still joined, until he spoke in a voice barely audible to you:

"Thank you for joining me tonight."

You nodded.

"Thank you… for making it bearable."

He smiled, his gaze lowering for a moment before meeting yours again, as you picked up his cane from the floor and surrendered.

"Thank you. We should do this more often, don't you think?"

The suggestion took you by surprise, you didn't think Viktor would want to repeat something like that, but instead of responding with a negative and referring to his leg, you simply said:

"Maybe." with a sweet smile, now that you both shared more than just work. Without the bustle and inquisitive glances of the attendees, it was as if they were in a world of their own.

The party had reached its moment of recess, with laughter and soft music filling the air. The guests began to disperse throughout the place and some began to climb the stairs. The moment you shared was abruptly broken when a visibly drunk councilman stumbled towards you with a smirk on his face. His ostentatious attire and wine glass in hand made him seem out of place in the serene atmosphere you had created.

“Ah, there are the strangers!” he exclaimed, his tone heavy with mockery. His eyes assessed you both, lingering a little longer on you, an expression that made you shudder in disgust. You had received such looks before, you knew them and knew they led to nothing good.

Viktor tensed instantly, straightening up with difficulty and leaning more heavily on his cane to take a step forward.

“Can we help you with something?” Viktor asked coldly, clearly uncomfortable with the man’s presence.

The councilman let out an exaggerated laugh.

“Oh, I don’t need any help from you.” Though I must say, Heimerdinger has strange priorities, letting a couple of second-class citizens mingle among us.

Your brow furrowed and you clenched your fists, more than ready to throw him down the stairs and pretend he slipped. But before you could say anything, the man turned to Viktor with a sly grin.

“You… Viktor… How admirable that you accomplish so much in such… poor health. It’s a miracle you can stay on your feet, don’t you think? Though, of course, when all you have to offer is your brain, I guess there’s not much else you can use to impress.”

The comment hit like a whiplash, but Viktor didn’t respond immediately, it wasn’t the first time he heard someone talk about him like that, he didn’t care at all. His grip on the cane tightened just because you were there, and his jaw clenched, of all people in the world, he didn’t want you to be the one to hear that. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the man.

The councilor, seeing that he wasn’t getting a response, turned his attention to you again. His eyes scanned you shamelessly, his smile twisting even more.

“And you, my dear… I guess it makes sense that you’re here with him. The girls of Zaun always know how to… adapt to circumstances, don’t they? A perfect match: a disembodied brain and a… well, you know.”

Indignation took hold of you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, but before you could respond or move to fit his nose with a punch, Viktor grabbed your hand, stopping the hurricane of thoughts in your mind.

“Stop it,” Viktor said, his voice low but firm.

The councilman raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Oh, did you hit a nerve? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Viktor interrupted, taking a step forward, despite the obvious annoyance the movement caused him. “Don’t be sorry. And I don’t want your fake apologies. Just… shut your mouth and get out.”

The man snorted, but before he could say anything else, you faced him, walking steadily in front of him, your voice clear and determined.

“It must be exhausting carrying so much shit around,” you said, with an icy smile. “But I guess I couldn’t expect anything else from someone whose only virtue is his last name.”

The councilman looked at you, surprised by your bravery, and then snorted before turning to leave, muttering something unintelligible and spilling half of his glass of wine on the floor.

When you were alone again, the air was still tense, your fists still clenched at your sides. Viktor finally let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You shouldn’t have… faced him,” he said softly. “I’m used to his usual nonsense.”

You looked at him with a determined expression.

“And you shouldn’t bear that in silence. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially you. They should lick your shoes, thanks to you this city really became the city of progress. You shouldn’t have to get used to it, Viktor.” You intertwined your hand with his, like an instinct you couldn’t ignore.

He looked down at their intertwined hands. He could feel the warmth of your touch breaking through the cold barrier he had built up over the years.

“I don’t believe his words, they’re irrelevant to me,” he finally admitted, his voice laced with honesty.

You gently squeezed his hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Then stand up for yourself, because you know what I believe? I believe you’re more than just a brilliant brain, Viktor. You’re not just a man with a cane or someone who comes from Zaun. You’re so much more than that, a genius, a visionary. There’s so much about you that’s amazing besides your wit.”

Viktor let out a short, dry laugh, but there was a spark of something else in his expression. Maybe gratitude, maybe something deeper that he didn’t dare name yet.

“You’re… persistent,” he said, with a slight smile that quickly faded as he looked back into your eyes. “But I don’t understand why.”

You tilted your head, confused.

“Why, what?”

Viktor looked away, unsure of how to continue, but he knew the words were already on the edge of his lips, and he couldn’t turn back.

“Why do you care so much about me? Why are you still here, by my side, despite everything. Helping me with everything, always taking care of me, looking at me as if there was nothing more interesting than me when I talk to you…even now.”

You looked at him for a long moment with a huge blush caught in your cheeks, and then, with a warmth in your voice that almost disarmed him, you answered, “Because I see you, Viktor. I see who you really are, and… I care about you. Much more than I should.”

The world seemed to stop in that instant. Viktor swallowed, feeling the air grow heavier, but also clearer at the same time.

“Y/N…” His voice was a whisper, as if he was taste out your name in a different, more intimate context that even he didn’t know about.

Their eyes met again, and this time, Viktor didn't look away, just watching your eyes sparkle and your pupils widen, it warmed his heart to know it was because you were looking at him.

"I should tell you now, but well…it's something new."

You smile softly, giving him some relief.

"You don't need to be good at it. Just tell me what you feel."

Viktor took a deep breath, as if he was preparing for a leap he had feared for a long time.

"I admire you. Not just for your intelligence or your ability to put up with my…quirks. But because you make me feel different…alive. With you, I don't feel alone. With you, I feel like…I can be something more."

His words were clumsy, but the sincerity in them was undeniable.

“And I think… I feel something really deep for you, Y/N.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming, but not because you were hesitating. But because you were taking in each word, feeling them deeply. Slowly, a smile spread across your face, and with a determined step, you closed the distance between you.

“That’s good, Viktor,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to hear each word clearly. “Because I’m already in love with you.”

Viktor looked at you, a flash of something soft and warm crossing his eyes.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice almost a whispered gasp. Despite everything he believed made him unworthy, you always saw him as something more.

The air seemed to vibrate between you, charged with an energy neither of you could explain but both of you understood. As the lights of Piltover continued to shine in the distance, the two of them towered over high society, standing together in a pure, private moment.

Jayce, who had been watching the scene with a mix of satisfaction and pride, decided not to interrupt. Mel, at his side, looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Happy with your masterpiece?” she asked, taking a sip of her glass.

“More than I imagined,” Jayce replied, crossing his arms as a triumphant smile lit up his face. “Viktor deserved it, although he’ll probably hate me tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll hate you,” Mel said, watching the couple. “Maybe he’ll even thank you… eventually.”

As the night progressed and the lights in the hall grew dimmer, you and Viktor remained close, away from the bustle of the rest of the guests. For the first time in a long time, Viktor wasn’t thinking about the Hexcore, or his work, or his body, or the expectations he had placed on himself.

At that moment, there were only the two of them, and that, for Viktor, was a discovery as fascinating as any scientific breakthrough.

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane imagine.

Arcane characters react when you take a hit for them.

Characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika.

Trigger warnings: fluff, angst, reader getting hurt, injuries, yearning, implied smut, gross m*n, harassment

Mel medarda;

It was a seemingly normal night for you both, you had decided to take Mel out for dinner, nothing too luxurious (in her own words) but you wanted nothing but the best for your Mel, she appreciated that, god, she never looked more beautiful when she's standing in the moonlight in her red dress she especially wore for you and only you

The night was going just as planned, it was perfect, there was much laughter and smiles that hurt both of your cheeks, as you held hands and walked together, occasionally sitting down and kissing one another, when of course, a drunk man happened to be near by, and he didn't like what he saw, the famous Mel medarda kissing someone that wasn't a man

He ended up becoming furious, stumbling over as he started shouting nonsense, Mel wasn't having it, she used her authority voice that turns stern to control the situation, she does this when she's nervous, and you can tell when she grips onto your hand tighter

When you see the man raising his hand in her direction, you immediately shield her and take the hit, your cheek stings as you even taste blood, that was Mel's last straw when she saw him hit her lover, you've never seen her this angry, it was a sight to see her cussing out the man and ruining him to pieces, he ended up walking off, leaving you alone as you felt a little ashamed, but you were happy that you had stopped him from hitting Mel, no one hits her

"why'd you do that?" Mel had asked, bending down on her knees as she takes your face in her hands, checking to make sure you're okay. "Why did you do that?" She keeps on asking, her eyes wide with fury and worry.

"Because I love you" was all you said.

She smiled, laughed, you laughed with her, she had tears in her eyes, though you wouldn't bring it up, you wiped some away with your thumb, as she kissed you hard

Caitlyn;

Caitlyn was out doing her duty when you were supposed to be at home, relaxing, waiting for her return, things have been getting rough fast, much to her liking as she had to deal with it all

She knew there was no going back once she went down this road, it had to be done, you had tried convincing her to stop and think, you know her grief has been eating at her, you've felt it, you know what it's like yourself

She tries to hide it, but you can see it

You try to be there for her in any way you can, whatever she needs, you'll give

While she was out one night, alone, you know she's capable of taking care of herself, you don't doubt that at all, the one time she didn't have her gun with her is when shit happens, you don't like guns, she knows this, so she tries not to carry them around you, unless absolute necessary

Then out of no where, she's attacked.

And she stumbles, for the first time in so long, she's nervous, scared, thinking about you

They came out of no where, taking her off guard as they had their masks on, it was dark out, she couldn't see much

Then you appear all of a sudden, like a knight in shining armor, she watches you in awe before she realizes what you are doing with the way you jumped at them, with fury on your face as you raised your fist, ready to protect her, she shouted your name, you looked, and you got hit

Caitlyn lost it

They were all done by the time you opened your eyes again, embarrassed, you couldn't look at Caitlyn in the eyes but she had picked you up in her arms, carrying you home, she was silent, thinking you were still out, you admired her, reaching out to caress her cheek, she smiled, looking down at you as that tells you enough

Vi;

You hadn't seen vi all day, you knew she'd come home eventually, you two had plans, a date she promised, but something didn't feel right

Vi doesn't fuck around when she makes a promise to meet with you, you know that, she knows that, others might not, but you do

When she doesn't answer your calls and texts, you get worried, eventually you went out of your apartment to go and track her down, you know a few places she'd always be at

When you find her in a tight situation, in a dark alleyway, just a few blocks away from home, as it looks like she was on the way back to you, you felt frustrated as you watched three big, tall guys who clearly had a bit to drink pick on her

Vi had fought the worst of the worst, you know that, but you weren't having it

She didn't let you join in on fighting, scared for you, she worries sick, that she might lose you, but she doubts you enough, you know it wasn't doubt though, she just cared

She cared so much

It was a surprise when she saw you running at full speed at one of the guys and taking a huge hit when he got a hand of you, shoving you off, vi was pissed

Anger was all she felt as she kicked all of their asses

She was muttering while checking in on you, she patched you up and took care of you, making sure you were okay, in her eyes, she couldn't help but admit that it was hot, and that made her fall in love harder with you

Jinx;

Jinx had always been the one to fight for herself

She wasn't used to others stepping in, unless it was for work

Like if silco had ordered them too go with her, that wouldn't make a difference

Jinx was always going to be doing everything herself, that was until you came into her life, when everything went shit when silco died, you were her light

And Isha

You two meant more to her than she could ever imagine

She began to look forward to tomorrow

The one time you, Isha, jinx all decided to go out for an adventure, she wanted to impress you with her new projects that she was working on, you always listened to her ramble and she liked it, not many people did aside from sevika, Isha and you

Though sevika just tolerated it

Everything was going perfect, when a group of idiots came out and she didn't even have all of her fancy weapons on her, the one time she doesn't, because she just wanted to have fun with her favorite people, she was actually enjoying herself, which why she got so angry when they attacked

She knows she's got plenty of enemies, that's nothing new, but what she doesn't like is when any of them go for Isha or you, you two shouldn't be involved in this, even though you and her are together together, you were more vulnerable now

She was amazed by you

What she didn't expect was to watch you stand in front of her and take a huge hit to the face just when she was handling the guys her way, that caught her off balance

She raged at them

Once she was done with them, she took your hands as she was filled with worry, her anxiety buzzing, her thoughts too loud, thinking the worst, Isha helped you stand up, she also looked concerned, wondering what had happened, why you got hurt

Jinx didn't waste anytime pressing a kiss to your lips as she took you home with Isha alongside her

Sevika;

Sevika just wanted to take you out on a nice date, as best as she could offer, she knows you'd appreciate it regardless, but she wanted to give you everything she could

You had made everything better for her the moment you stepped into her life, she wanted to do you good

The date was going perfectly, just the way she had planned, it wasn't often sevika was pleased with herself, but tonight you looked good enough to eat

Just when everything was going fine, someone had to ruin it

Someone who was upset with her

Sevika knew she made a name for herself, people knew her, they weren't always the nicest

Usually just wanted to try and fight her, to see if they'd beat her, they never do, it ends up written on all their faces

But of course, her first date with you got interrupted, and Sevika wasn't having it when this guy was trying so hard to get with you, she hated how uncomfortable you looked, he didn't even recognize her there the entire time as she stared him down with a cold glare, she made her presence known

He looked flabbergasted at the sight of sevika having a date with someone like you, you two were different, sure, she didn't care what others think, especially if they targeted you

You said you were used to it, guys coming up and flirting with you, making gross comments, she wasn't having it, she didn't care how used to it you were

"are you done here?" Sevika asked, taking a bite of a cherry as you watched, admiring her, she smirked at you.

The guy huffs, unimpressed, "the fuck are you doing here, bitch?" He slurred, leaning closer.

The moment you heard him call her a bitch, you immediately stood up, as the both of them got heated, fast, you know sevika doesn't back down from a fight for anyone, especially a sloppy moyherfucker like him who runs his stupid mouth

You spotted him getting closer and raiding his hand at her, no, you weren't going to have tonight end up blood spilt, as hot as that'd be, you wanted your date to be perfect

Just before he could even punch your Sevika, you were able to get in between them fast, his hand hitting hard on your check as you fell against her front

She stared at you with wide eyes, and raged at the guy

She knew you didn't want her fighting anyone on your date, but that set her off

The pain stung as you knew it was gonna bruise, fuck, but you wanted to make sure it wasn't always her getting the first hit

He ended up on the floor, passed out fast

Sevika had you in her arms, kissing you rough, you tasted blood, it was everything, she never looked more beautiful as she stared at you with so much love

"I'm gonna treat you so good, baby."

Tonight was far from over

[seirindono]

The Missing Scarf (Interlude) - part 24

Don't underestimate them before meeting them Mel <<

But it's true that they still haven't found a way out after all this time...

First part | Prev | Next

Ko-fi | Patreon | Comic | Commissions  | To support the comic

[druh19]

໑ — Arcane Icons ~ ACT 1 ~ like and reblog if saved ‹3

[narumi-gens]

Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional? 

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional. 

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside. 

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife. 

But you know that traditional really just means boring. 

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita. 

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child. 

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options. 

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west. 

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person. 

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed. 

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza. 

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull. 

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening. 

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them. 

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows. 

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste. 

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes. 

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life. 

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively. 

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it. 

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads. 

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades. 

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts. 

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza. 

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with. 

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers. 

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed. 

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants. 

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff. 

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look. 

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call. 

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible. 

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya. 

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier. 

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body. 

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy. 

“Enough.” 

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt. 

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space. 

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy. 

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common. 

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again. 

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter. 

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter. 

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out. 

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep. 

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess. 

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point. 

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well. 

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show. 

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response. 

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees. 

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten. 

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place. 

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea. 

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.” 

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more. 

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you. 

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste. 

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger. 

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you. 

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.” 

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states. 

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much. 

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors. 

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita. 

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards. 

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name. 

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin. 

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles. 

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely. 

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs. 

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively. 

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh. 

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness. 

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. 

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled. 

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun. 

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you. 

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum. 

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him. 

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know. 

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him. 

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like. 

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?” 

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give. 

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees. 

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips. 

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.  

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before. 

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.  

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface. 

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously. 

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze. 

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me

Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.

"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX

– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.

– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.

– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.

– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.

– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.

– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.

– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.

– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.

––

VI

– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.

– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.

– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.

– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.

– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.

– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.

– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.

– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?

– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.

__

CAITLYN

– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.

– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.

– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).

– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.

– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.

– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.

– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.

– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.

– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.

– Shyness is not a crime!

– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?

––

SEVIKA

– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.

– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.

– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.

– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.

– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.

– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."

– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.

– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.

– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."

– like damnnnn, okay!

– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.

--

MEL

– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.

– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.

– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.

– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.

– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.

– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.

– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.

– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...

– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."

– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.

– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.

WC: 1,705

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted .✵

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 4.9k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

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Chapter I: The Abyss of Temptation

(The shuttle landed silently on the verdant surface of the planet Khofar, a wild jewel among the worlds of the Outer Rim Territories. As the hatch opened, a wave of humidity enveloped the Jedi, carrying with it the intense scent of damp earth and the exotic fragrance of the lush vegetation. The forest stretched out before them like an endless sea of green, where the trees rose like ancient towers, their massive trunks covered in layers of gleaming moss. The thick, intertwined canopies above them created a natural roof, allowing only faint rays of light to filter through, speckling the ground with golden patches. Khofar was a living, wild planet, and they were only temporary visitors, intruders in an ancient and balanced ecosystem. Every rustle among the leaves, every distant call, was a warning. A premonition or prelude to what the day would bring.)

If only you had known in advance that your teammates would die one by one before your eyes as you returned from the hut where Jedi Master Kelnacca lived, you would have thought twice before agreeing to the mission. You had fought against the Sith who killed your friends, battling with anger and bitterness, in a grief too fresh to fully comprehend. In the end, the pain of your body hitting the hard ground was nothing compared to the searing agony in your side from a nearly fatal wound. Your vision began to blur, and you could only see footsteps approaching before everything faded to black.

You awoke slowly, as if emerging from a hibernation that had lasted for years. Your eyes opened with difficulty, greeted by a nearly suffocating gloom. The dim light of a few torches was the only source of illumination within what seemed to be a cave. The rocky walls, uneven and cold, seemed to loom over you. You felt weak, every movement was a struggle, and a dull pain throbbed in your side. You tried to sit up, but your injured side forced you back down, a hiss of pain escaping your lips. You brought a trembling hand to the wound and felt the rough texture of the bandages wrapped around the torn flesh. Despite the agony, the wound had apparently been cleaned and treated with care. Someone had taken the time to tend to it, to ensure it would heal, though it was still far from being fully recovered. You looked around, trying to piece together fragments of memory that crowded your mind. You remembered your friends' deaths, Sol screaming, your lightsaber changing color, and a battle. You recalled the fierce confrontation with the Sith, your fall, and the darkness that enveloped you. But beyond that, nothing. You had no idea how you had ended up in that cave, nor who had brought you there.

Your heart raced, panic beginning to seep into your thoughts. Were you a prisoner? And if so, who had shown such mercy to tend to your wounds? The most unsettling question was the most obvious: why hadn't the Sith eliminated you when he had the chance? A shadowy thought slithered into your mind, and the face of the Sith echoed in the depths of your being. The idea that he might have been the one to save you, to care for you, was as chilling as it was improbable. Yet, you couldn’t shake the possibility from your mind, no matter how absurd it seemed.

You dragged yourself out with great effort, and through the blinding light, you saw the silhouette of a man, barely identifiable. You followed him stealthily, still holding your side and trying to endure the pain from the wound. For a moment, you lost sight of him, only to find him again shortly after, immersed in a pool of water in what seemed to be a coastal area with black sand you couldn’t identify. Your eyes fell on the figure facing away from you, submerged in the water, his muscles relaxed, his raven hair wet and slicked back. To your eyes, the man seemed completely unaware of your presence, though he appeared to have a vigilant awareness of the surrounding area. You moved silently among the rocks and vegetation, observing your target until your gaze fell upon a pile of clothes near the shore, where the deactivated lightsaber lay. With swift and somewhat precise movements, you approached the lightsaber. Tension mounted inside you as you crouched to pick it up, aware that any sound could betray your presence. You grasped the metallic object and assumed an attack position as the man began to speak, still with his back turned while he calmly washed himself.

"how does it feel?" he said, turning towards you. You recognized him immediately. The mere sight of his face sparked rage within you. "Pleasant, don't you think?" His tone was a piercing screech to your ears. You gritted your teeth, not responding, remaining in your attack stance. "Your stance is good despite the wound on your side, but your elbows are a real mess. I had my doubts when we fought last time, and now I see why it was so easy to defeat you. Your elbows are too low; you should keep one higher, you know?" he continued, observing you. "…To block more quickly and strike with more precision." He took a brief pause. "Since you don’t know how to use the Force, you should learn to block better," he concluded, stepping out of the water, now only a few steps away from you.

"Don’t move," your stance changed, now aiming the off lightsaber directly at him. Your gaze was sharp and cold. "If you don’t want to join me, at least let me put my clothes on" he said. You took a slight step back, allowing him to exit the water. You swallowed, trying not to let your gaze fall on the naked, wet defined body of the man, keeping in your mind that he was your enemy. You began to ponder whether it was appropriate to attack him now. But it was neither Jedi-like to strike a defenseless man nor to act in such a dishonorable manner. "Surely, you’re wondering if it’s honorable to kill me like this," he began, his tone different from the one used in battle. You swallowed. Your gaze fell for a second on his chest, and you cursed yourself for the terrible idea. "In battle it’s justified, but days later isn’t it revenge?" he asked with a sarcastic tone, as if he already knew the answer. "And now you wonder if I can read your mind… and the answer is… no. Anger betrays your thoughts" he continued, dressing himself as if you weren’t pointing a weapon at him. His gaze seemed oddly gentle, more delicate, almost innocent. So much so that he almost didn’t seem like the same man who had killed seven Jedi just a few nights before.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you kill me?" you asked, watching him sternly, uncertain of what to do next. "Am I your prisoner?" "Prisoner? You’re the one with a weapon" he said with an overly calm look and an obvious tone in his voice, as he walked back towards the cave, passing by you without fear. You followed him, teeth clenched. You wanted revenge on this man, but what a miserable person you would be to strike him from behind while he was unarmed. "If you keep me here, Sol will come for you. He’s found me before, and he’s powerful with the Force." Your voice sounded threatening, though not as forceful as you’d hoped due to the stabbing pain in your side. The man turned and looked at you with a puzzled expression. "Do you think he’s powerful with the Force? It’s you who’s powerful with the Force, y/n. Someone should teach you," he said. You were stunned for a few seconds, as he knew your name. To you, he was a stranger, but you didn’t seem to be as unknown to him. The stranger walked back into the cave, and you followed him, confused. "In what way am I powerful with the Force? You should know it’s something to be practiced. If you don’t train it, it fades" you said, your voice still sharp as you scrutinized the man who seemed so at ease in your presence. You had long abandoned being a Jedi, retreating shortly after becoming officially part of the Order. If it hadn’t been for your sister leaving a trail of blood wherever she went, you would have stayed far away from that world. You had lost every Force ability, not having practiced it for many years. You vaguely remembered how to use a lightsaber, thanks to Sol, who had helped you recall the skills during the time you spent together, training with his young Padawan Jecki.

The stranger was seated next to what appeared to be a small campfire, while you kept your distance. He tasted the food he was cooking. You didn’t trust him; something about him made you suspicious, aside from the fact that he had decimated your team. "You know… The Jedi teach that there’s only one way to access the Force, and if you don’t do it their way, it fades. But there’s another way," he said gently, turning his gaze toward you. "Beneath the surface of consciousness, there are powerful emotions." "Anger. Fear. Loss…" he slowly mentioned the emotions you had learned to suppress, as you had been taught in the Order during your time as a Jedi Padawan. "…desire." The last emotion was spoken almost in a whisper as he took on a more serious and penetrating expression. You swallowed, observing him with disdain, though you subconsciously held your breath as he listed the emotions. "That’s the path to the dark side," the words came out acridly from your mouth.

The man’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a mocking smile. "semantics… You Jedi are so closed-minded," he replied, turning back to the fire, stirring the stew he was cooking. "The light side isn’t the only way to access the Force. The dark side… amplifies emotions. It’s just another way to access the Force. A way… to freedom." His convincing tone almost seemed reasonable, though it was contrary to your way of thinking. "You killed my friends," your gaze grew even sharper and more bitter, as your hand still gripped the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber, seeking comfort in the familiar cold metal. The Sith’s words were like poison seeping into your mind, exploiting the insecurities you had always tried to suppress. "Friends? That’s what you call people who come to seek you only in moments of need and then ignore your existence?" His voice was laced with a mix of disdain and feigned compassion. Every word from this man was a blade sinking into your soul, touching raw nerves you had tried to ignore. You had been trained to combat fear, anger, desire—all emotions that, if left unchecked, could lead you down the dark path. But at that moment, you felt the internal storm growing, fueled by suffering and loss, a mourning.

"War isn’t pretty, y/n, sometimes…" he began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he stood up, beginning to walk toward you with determined steps, never breaking eye contact. "Sacrifices must be made for a greater good." He stopped just inches from you, his penetrating gaze studying you with a mix of cynicism and desire, as if challenging you to contradict him. Every fiber of his being radiated an irresistible force, a magnetism that seemed to envelop him like a shadow. He leaned slightly toward you, his warm breath brushing against your skin as his lips dangerously neared your ear. "Your friends," he whispered with a cold, almost contemptuous tone, "were just collateral damage." His words were like sharp knives—cutting and relentless—but the seductive tone with which he spoke betrayed an unsettling intimacy, as if he were confiding a dark secret that only you could understand.

The stranger leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, deep as an abyss, stared at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate directly into your soul. His face was close, too close, and his expression was serious, almost sorrowful, but there was no trace of remorse—only a dark understanding. "Why do you love people who can only go so far?" His voice dropped further, becoming a near-confidential whisper. "Who can’t go as deep as you can?" His gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours with an expression that seemed to reveal far more than his words had. There was a hidden desire, a need struggling to surface, but the man skillfully masked it, maintaining a subtle balance between cynicism and seduction.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of his words and his proximity. You knew that behind those words lay a darkness trying to corrupt you, but his allure was dangerously real. Your mind was conflicted, torn between repulsion at the Sith’s cynicism and the irresistible magnetism surrounding him. The man gave you a slight smile, a smile that never quite reached his eyes, as he pulled back just a few centimeters, leaving you teetering between temptation and inner struggle. "Maybe, y/n," he added in a mellifluous voice, "you’re destined for something more… something greater… something that I can show you." "I’m not my sister. I’m not so easily corrupted," you said, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to maintain control over yourself. Every fiber of your being struggled to suppress the tumultuous emotions the stranger had tried to awaken in you. Your heart pounded loudly, betraying you, but your face remained impassive, covered by a studied veil of disgust. With a slow, deliberate motion, you took a step back, putting distance between you, your gaze charged with superiority and defiance.

Qimir observed you with an impassive expression, but behind his dark eyes was growing interest, a sort of admiration for your resilience. To him, you were not like the other Jedi he had encountered, too weak or easily swayed. In you, he saw a potential acolyte, someone with an inner strength that could be nurtured and guided toward an even greater power. A subtle smile appeared on his lips, a nearly imperceptible curve that betrayed his pleasure at seeing you so determined. "You’re not like your sister, that’s true," he admitted with a tone that seemed both a compliment and a challenge. He took a step toward you, closing the space between you once more, but this time with an even more calculated calm, like a hunter who knows its prey. "But don’t mistake your determination for invulnerability," he continued, his voice soft and sharp as a blade. "The force you suppress within you, the force you’ve learned to stifle, is what could make you great—much greater than the Jedi could ever imagine. I see in you a potential that goes beyond the limitations of their dogma, and that is what frightens them." He stopped just a few steps from you, his gaze locked on yours, trying to pierce through the mask you had erected. "I’m not here to corrupt you," he whispered, his voice almost persuasive. "I’m here to offer you a choice, a path that the Jedi have always denied you. A road to a freedom you don’t yet know." You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to show any weakness to him.

"I don’t need your freedom," you replied coldly, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Your whispers don’t touch me. I know who I am and what I represent." "So sure of yourself" he murmured, with a tone that seemed to appreciate your determination. "But what do you truly represent, y/n? A Jedi struggling against her own nature, stifling the potential that could make her truly powerful? Oh… perhaps I should say, ex-Jedi?" he asked with ironic amusement, towering over your figure. You clenched your teeth, pointing the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber at his stomach.

He tilted his head slightly, amused, his gaze growing more penetrating as he sought to reach that part of you he knew existed—the part that thirsted for knowledge, power, something more. “You feel the Force, you perceive it in ways that even the Jedi cannot understand. And you know there is a greater, deeper power calling you. It is not betrayal to explore that possibility. It is… evolution.” His words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to echo in the cave, breaking through the barriers you had erected to protect yourself. You raised your lightsaber to meet the man's neck. “Do it… light it” he ordered, his tone of challenge making your blood boil. The Sith, on the other hand, seemed delighted by your anger, his sharp and contemptuous smile only fueling the tension. Qimir merely tilted his head slightly to the side, offering his neck completely to you, his penetrating gaze fixed on the lightsaber you pointed at him, waiting for the moment you would decide to ignite it.

“A Jedi… does not attack the unarmed" you said through gritted teeth, your voice a murmur of frustration and determination. Your mind was a tumult of emotions, but your will to remain true to your principles was steadfast. “Do you still think you’re a Jedi?” he asked, his voice low and enveloping, almost hypnotic. “Don’t you remember how your lightsaber changed color the last time? Do you still believe you must adhere to a code you’re questioning within yourself?” Those words hit like a punch to the stomach, evoking images you would have preferred to forget. The blade of your lightsaber, once glowing a pure blue, had trembled, taking on red hues like those of the man before you. You took a step back, your heart racing, desperately trying to put space between you and that voice which seemed to read into you with ruthless precision. But the man gave you no respite. His hand moved with surprising speed, gripping your arm in a gentle yet firm hold. His fingers closed around your wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from withdrawing the saber from his neck. The contrast between the contained strength of his touch and the relaxed calm of his face left you breathless.

His penetrating gaze was fixed on your eyes, a subtle yet relentless challenge. “You know yourself that after what’s happened you couldn’t return to the Jedi even if you wanted to,” he whispered, his tone charming and confident, as if he had already won this silent battle. “Sol has seen it, don’t believe that after succumbing to rage and revenge you can return to a position that no longer belongs to you.” You felt trapped, not so much by his hand holding you but by the words resonating inside you. His words seemed to challenge every certainty you had until that moment. Every fiber of your being wanted to reject him, but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made you doubt, even if just for a moment. Qimir moved closer, his warm breath against your skin, each movement calculated with lethal precision. “It’s not a matter of principles, y/n,” he continued, his tone now almost seductive. “That pain, that anger… this is what you are.” Your breath grew irregular, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to maintain control. “Let me go.” you threatened, your voice a low growl, but you knew there was a shadow of hesitation you couldn’t hide.

“Sol saw it… the Jedi saw it” he continued, his tone now softer but laden with cruel truth. “And for that, they will throw you away, again.” His piercing gaze cut into you, as your eyes took on an expression of anger and fear at his words. You felt his words like a sharp blade piercing through your defenses, and your gaze hardened, but you couldn’t hide the flicker of fear in your eyes. The fear that, deep down, he might be right. The fear that your Order, those you would give your life to protect, might indeed see you as a threat, something to be eliminated. The Sith sensed that shift within you, and his gaze became even more penetrating, probing every corner of your mind. It was as if he could see every weakness, every hidden thought, and he used them with a terrifying skill. “You can’t hide from what you are, y/n. The dark side isn’t a weakness… it’s your strength. And you know it.” You gritted your teeth, disgust and anger mixing into an explosive blend that pushed you closer to the edge. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press; every word, every look was a sharp blade striking at your raw nerves. The tension inside you grew, turning into a knot that threatened to snap. Until you could no longer hold it back, and it was in that moment that you ignited the lightsaber, the glowing blade just a breath away from his neck. “It won’t be like that,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, desperately trying to stay calm, though your eyes betrayed the mask of confidence you wore. “I will not succumb to the dark side.”

The man remained still, his mocking smile slowly widening as his eyes stayed fixed on yours, as if he were looking through you, reading every hidden thought. He swallowed slowly, a gesture that seemed almost like an invitation, a further provocation. The blade of your saber illuminated his face, but there was no trace of fear in his eyes, only a cold calm. “It’s not something you have to give in to… it’s inside you,” he said with that velvety voice of his, each word a whisper insinuating doubt into your certainties. His words struck you like a blow to the heart, breaking that fragile barrier you were desperately trying to maintain. “Your potential is immense,” he continued, lowering his voice to a warm, almost intimate whisper. Your gaze grew sharper as the subtle poison in his words sought to seep into your consciousness. The lightsaber blade barely touched his skin without making contact, his calm expression only annoying you. It was as if the threat had no effect on him, as if he knew you would never have the courage to go through with it. Every movement he made was slow, deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge, playing with your emotions like a master puppeteer. Anger bubbled within you, a fire growing ever stronger, fueled by his words, his confident smile, the way he seemed to control everything. You couldn’t deny it; there was a part of you that wanted to give in, that wanted to let go of the anger, the pain that burned so intensely. And he knew it; you could feel it in his voice, see it in his eyes.

“I understand…” His voice was a seductive whisper, just above a breath, as his hand rose with studied slowness, approaching yours without ever touching it. His eyes, which had been filled with impenetrable confidence until now, took on a new light, something deeper, almost vulnerable. “I’ve lost everything, y/n…” His gaze now seemed sincere, almost pleading for some strange reason. “But when you lose everything,” he continued, his hand now resting on yours, which still gripped the cold lightsaber handle. The contact was surprisingly gentle, a light pressure, but enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. His grip was soft but firm, and the contrast between his words and the apparent gentleness of the gesture made you waver. “That’s when you’re truly free,” he concluded, his voice a whisper carrying an inescapable weight, an invitation to surrender, to let go of everything that still bound you to the light. His gaze locked onto your eyes, deep, almost pleading, but not for pity: for understanding, for sharing. It was as if he wanted you to see the world through his eyes, to understand that the dark side wasn’t a condemnation but a liberation. His words struck you forcefully, penetrating your defenses once again with lethal precision. It wasn’t just a mental game; there was something genuine in the pain that lingered in his voice, a shadow of loneliness that echoed your own torment. And in that moment, the Sith you had seen as an implacable enemy became a figure that seemed to understand your suffering, your anger.

“The anger you feel, the pain that consumes you… you don’t have to fight it,” he continued, his tone calm and inviting. The tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. You felt the dark side’s pull toward him, the promise of freedom shining like an irresistible temptation. But there was something more in that man, something human, making it harder to you to ignore. The sincerity in his gaze, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper, made you doubt your certainties. His hand, warm against yours, made you feel dangerously close to an abyss you weren’t sure you wanted to avoid. You remained still, analyzing his words in your mind. The lightsaber still tightly gripped in your hand, your teeth clenched as you swallowed before sighing, thinking about what you should do. You deactivated the lightsaber and stepped away from him, pressing the hilt of the now-deactivated saber against his chest. You wouldn’t be deceived by his seductive words. You knew who you were and what you fought for. But, inside, a small part couldn’t help but wonder: what if he was right?

“You don’t know me to tell me these things. And as I’ve said, I’m not corruptible like my sister,” You hissed, your voice charged with a tension the man couldn’t help but appreciate. He let his smile spread slowly across his face, watching with almost amused interest as you deactivated the lightsaber and then pressed the hilt against his chest. The determination in your eyes, the resolve in your gesture, fascinated him. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, but there was something in you, an inner strength, a resilience that intrigued him deeply. He could see the internal struggle you were facing, the conflict between the Jedi code and the emotions he had deliberately stirred.

The Sith, with a slow and measured gesture, placed the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber on a nearby rock. The smile on his face shifted into a smirk of satisfaction. “Perhaps I know you better than you think,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with an intensity that echoed in the silence of the cave, where only the crackling of the fire could be heard. “I see who you are… who you could be. Your strength, your will…” His steps continued to close the distance between you, and you took a step back, trying to maintain the space between you. He gently took your wrist and pulled you slightly towards him, towering over your smaller figure. He looked at you with what might have seemed like admiration or… desire. You held your breath, swallowing, paralyzed by what could be the gentlest yet most dangerous of predators. The man brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you reduced to mere centimeters, his breath mingling with yours, warm and slow. His touch was once again firm but never painful. His eyes, dark as the abyss, glowed with an intensity that slowly captivated you. You found yourself hanging on his lips, almost asking for permission to breathe regularly. “It is rare…” he concluded. You took a deep breath, and the tension between you was growing increasingly palpable. His tone was like sweet poison, flowing slowly through your veins, making you doubt once more everything you had always believed. His hand slowly moved from your wrist to your side, stopping just below your ribs, where the wound, though treated, still throbbed painfully. The contact, though light, made you flinch, a mix of pain and something else you couldn’t quite identify. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the tension between you becoming almost unbearable.

“You’re still loyal to someone who didn’t think twice about abandoning you to the enemy on Khofar some nights ago…” You swallowed at his words, feeling the knot in your throat that blocked every word and the weight in your stomach. “Deep down, you’re still searching for a master, someone to guide you… That life, you’ve never truly felt it as your own; they never understood you,” he continued, his gaze fixed on your eyes as if he could see inside you, reading every thought, every hidden emotion. “But I can.” For a moment, you felt yourself falter at those words. The tension between you was palpable, and you could not take your eyes off what must be your enemy, although your mind tried to keep lucidity. Your breathing was slow and irregular, each breath an attempt to hold back an invisible and unknown force that seemed to want to overwhelm you. The knot in your throat was getting tighter, blocking the words you wanted to say. Your eyes were mesmerized. There was an incredible intensity in those foxy eyes, a mixture of fear and fascination that left your heart inexplicably throbbing and mind confused. You failed to swallow trying to make words come out to counter his claims

“You are like me…” he whispered a short distance from your lips.

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Notes :

Well, yes, the sexy hot af villain who will be the protagonist of the new series is Him. Qimir, from The Acolyte. If you don’t know him, go and watch that series because Manny Jacinto put all his effort to seduce us towards the dark side. This is just the beginning, still do not know how many chapters will have but I hope not many, I would like to write about more topics for him.

if you haven’t seen the series there will be some spoilers, so please watch the series first

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

[maxivstappen]

can I request text au in which you hide that you’re sick because you didn’t want to bother him etc 🙊

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊

featuring ; max verstappen, charles leclerc, lando norris, carlos sainz, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton, george russel, logan sargeant, daniel ricciardo

🎙️:: thank you so much for requesting and for your patience ! haven’t done one of these in a while but it’s something to keep you guys entertained while i’m busying myself with the 1k event :)

CRACK & ANGST & FLUFF — TEXT MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

🎙️:: reblogs are heavily appreciated as always, thanks for reading !

taglist :: @norrisdriver <3

[pow-pow1111]

𝘼𝙍𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙀 𝙏𝙀𝙓𝙏𝙎- 𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙎𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙈𝙚 𝙄𝙛 𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙨 𝘼 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙢?

Arcane x reader

Includes: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Ekko, Sevika

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 17th

Threesome or Moresome, Papa Emeritus III & Ghouls x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Gang bang; public gang bang; predator prey; role play; game; fear play; fingering; tag-teaming; exhibitionism; fellatio; minor degradation; cunnilingus; hand jobs; mild cucking; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; bukkake; anal sex; spit as lube; objectification; titfucking; pussy slapping; face fucking; double penetration; spanking; praise kink; creampie; recommended listening: RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. The cold sweat on your brow mingled with the dirt and leaves that clung to your skin as you darted between towering trees, their branches clawing at your clothes. Behind you, a group of relentless men pursued, their heavy footsteps and urgent shouts echoing through the darkening woods. Each step you took, each breath you drew, was a desperate attempt to outpace the ominous figures closing in on you, their motives unknown and their intentions menacing. The ominous symphony of rustling leaves and the pounding of your own feet merged into a haunting cacophony, as the chilling realization set in that there was no escape from this relentless pursuit.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the forest floor, which you navigated with all the stealth and agility you could muster. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins seemed to blur the boundary between exhaustion and determination. The harsh, urgent voices of your pursuers grew closer, their presence an ever-encroaching nightmare. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way to shake them off, to find refuge in the vast labyrinth of the woods. Every twist and turn, every broken twig beneath your feet, betrayed your position to those relentless hunters. You needed a plan, a moment’s respite, anything to gain the upper hand in this deadly game of chase.

In the midst of this heart-pounding pursuit, your eyes darted frantically, scanning the surroundings for a glimmer of hope. That’s when you spotted it—a massive fallen log, its rotting underbelly a sanctuary from the prying eyes of your relentless pursuers. With your breath held, you sprinted toward the log, the thundering footsteps of the men growing ever closer. As you reached it, you slid beneath the decaying wood, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. The earthy scent of damp soil and decay enveloped you, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle any sound. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the shadows of the men draw near, their voices now mere whispers in the distance. Time stood still beneath that log, as you clung to the hope that your concealment would be enough to thwart their relentless hunt.

As you lay hidden beneath the fallen log, the darkness around you seemed to stretch into eternity, and every rustle of leaves or snapping twig sent a jolt of terror through your body. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was remaining unnoticed.

Then, the dreadful moment arrived. A twig cracked nearby, much too close for comfort, and your heart leaped into your throat. You strained to keep your breathing silent and shallow, your eyes locked on the opening where you had crawled in. A pair of boots appeared in your line of sight, inches away from the log. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead as the boots hesitated for a moment, and then a masked face came into view, peering beneath the log.

Your eyes met, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and in that dreadful instant, the world seemed to freeze. His eyes widened in realization, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping for your ankle. Panic surged through you, and you yanked your leg away with all the strength you could muster, scrambling to retreat deeper beneath the log, your heart pounding louder than ever.

“Papa! I found her!” He yelled, his voice giving him away. Omega. He reached forward to grasp at your ankle and in desperation you kicked at him. But this gave him the right opportunity to clutch onto you.

Despite your desperate attempts to pull away, Omega’s grip tightened like a vice around your ankle. Adrenaline surged through you as he yanked you out from your hiding place with a sudden, brutal force. You cried out in pain and shock as you tumbled onto the forest floor, your limbs tangled and your heart racing.

Surrounding you were the remainder of Terzo’s Ghouls who had pursued you, their faces hidden behind their masks, but their eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and menace. You had been outmaneuvered, cornered like prey in a deadly game. As you gasped for breath, Omega loomed over you, his expression devoid of mercy. In that harrowing moment, the realization washed over you that escape was no longer an option, and you had been ensnared in their sinister clutches.

With a strength you couldn’t hope to match, Omega swiftly moved to restrain you. He pinned you to the forest floor, his knee pressed firmly against your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rough hands immobilized your arms, binding them tightly behind your back with a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs. Panic and desperation surged through you, but resistance was futile.

You struggled against his grip, gasping for air and pleading for mercy, but his eyes remained impassive, a look of determination. His comrades formed a menacing circle around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and malice. In that heart-wrenching moment, the realization of your vulnerability and the sinister intent of these men weighed upon you like an inescapable nightmare, casting a shadow over the once serene forest that had become the backdrop to this chilling ordeal.

As you lay there, pinned to the forest floor by the man who had captured you, the tense silence was shattered by the arrival of another figure, the apparent leader of this sinister group, Papa Emeritus III. He stepped forward from the shadows, his face concealed by a twisted grin that sent shivers down your spine. His voice carried an eerie authority as he addressed his comrades, “Well done, gentlemen. It seems our little game has come to a fruitful end.” He looked at Omega and widened his eyes a little. “Perhaps you should let her breathe, no? We wouldn’t want the game to meet a tragic finish.”

Omega relaxed his grip significantly, allowing you to take shallow breaths as the leader continued to survey the scene, seemingly only just realising how into the game he’d been. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto yours, and he chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that filled you with dread. “You’ve been quite the elusive prey, haven’t you?” He said, his tone oozing with satisfaction. “But now, tesoro, you’re in our hands, and you will do exactly as we say.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of your situation became painfully clear. You had fallen into the clutches of a malevolent force, and Terzo’s sinister pleasure at your capture left no doubt that the ordeal had only just begun.

Terzo’s sinister grin turned into a shit-eating one, the kind of smug look you want to slap off his face. “You see, tesoro,” he taunted, “you’ve lost the bet. Alpha!”

“Yes, Papa?” Alpha said,stepping forward at his master’s acknowledgment.

“What exactly was it that she wagered?”

Alpha’s eyes from behind his mask crinkled as though he were smiling. “She bet that she could outrun us and we couldn’t catch her. If she won, we would have to help her redecorate her room. But if we won… well, you give the orders, Papa.”

“Of course, thank you, my friend. you said if we catch her we fuck her, yes?”

“Yes, Papa!” The Ghouls said. Some chuckled quietly to themselves.

Your mind reeled as you tried to process this revelation. It had all been a silly game, a twisted challenge that you had accepted without fully understanding the stakes, or rather, in your hubris believing that you could outrun six men whose livelihoods revolved around fitness. The gravity of your predicament now became even more surreal; you had unwittingly placed your safety on the line, and your defeat meant you were at their mercy.

The other men exchanged knowing glances, their expressions shifting from triumph to amusement. They had not only captured you but had also won the twisted game they had orchestrated. The forest, once a place of serenity and refuge, had become the backdrop for your ill-fated bet, and the consequences were far more dire than you could have ever imagined.

“Of course, tesoro, if you don’t want to continue then by all means speak now. We will let this go with only minor public humiliation.” He crouched down so he was closer to your head which was still on the ground. “But if you wish to continue, you should realise that every person here will be inside you at some point tonight, sì?”

Terzo was giving you an out and there was that small, very intimidated voice inside of you telling you to take it. Six men. You were surrounded by six men. All of which were a varying degree of horny, and were prepared to fuck the life out of you in the middle of the Ministry’s forest. But there was a crazy part of you that just so happened to be winning your internal struggle that wanted you to go on with your bargain. You lost, fair was fair, and the thought of the very same men who had hunted you down like an animal taking turns on you was enough for your entire body to light up in anticipation.

“What say you, tesoro?” Terzo prompted.

You were silent for a moment. “I lost… time to face the consequences.”

Terzo’s face lit up with excitement even though he tried to keep his cool about it. He raised his hands and stood up, taking a few steps back. “Omega caught her, I think it’s only fair he should be the first to have a turn.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Omega responded. He flipped you onto your back and knelt down in between your legs drinking in the sight of your body. Omega was a big lad, nice and chunky - a little smaller than the average rugby player. Your habit, in your struggle, had rose up and allowed him a glimpse of your thighs and panties which had all the Ghouls groaning when they saw you. As one of Terzo’s favourite Siblings, you tended to be off-limits to most members of the Clergy - though it was more of an unspoken rule than an actual enforced law. But the Ghouls were certainly never allowed to touch you in a sexual manner. But they wanted to. Oh, did they really want to.

Omega ran his hands up and down your exposed thighs, feeling the way your body moved at his touch and appreciating this once in a lifetime opportunity. But with four of his brothers and his Papa watching, he knew he wouldn’t be able to savour this moment for much longer. And thus, he began to undress you - maneuvering you into whatever position he needed to in order to completely rid you of your clothes, shoes and all. He hooked his hands underneath your panties and pulled them down - the final item of clothing now removed and leaving you as naked as the day you were born in the middle of the forest.

He used his spit to lube up his fingers and set to work on your core, gently rubbing this thumb over your clit to get you relaxed enough to take his other fingers. At this point you were only letting out little whimpers of pleasure given that his fingers felt good, but they weren’t really hitting the spot just yet. This was the warm-up, not the sprint portion of the night, and you could tell that he was trying to take care of you. That was until he deemed you wet enough to take his middle finger inside of you.

“Tap up, Omega.” You heard Terzo say from somewhere in the distance. “It drives her crazy when you do.”

Omega nodded and obeyed, and immediately you released a loud moan that seemed to echo through the trees. You didn’t know how far away it reached, but you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for passers by to come looking and discover the scene. It didn’t take long of Omega stretching your cunt out before he was able to add another finger and increase the pleasure you were feeling. Your hands immediately flew to your breasts, your own fingers working at your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked to take more of the pleasure Omega was giving you. You looked over at the other Ghouls, each one also at various stages of arousal. Gale and Moss were rubbing their hard cocks through their pants, their eyes trained on your body and the way it was moving at both your hands and Omega’s. Alpha and Stream had, by this point, pulled their dicks out entirely and were brazenly stroking themselves at the sight of you. You looked at Terzo who was leaning up against the log you had been pulled out from underneath, his arms folded and his cock hard in his pants but completely untouched. His mismatched eyes were dark with lust and also focussed entirely on the scene in front of him. Terzo was the only one out of all of them here who knew your body like the back of his hand. He should after all the time he’d spent buried deep inside you.

“Alpha,” Terzo’s voice sounded, “she needs something in her mouth. Feed her your cock.”

Alpha, “Yes, Papa.”

Omega’s twin bounded over and knelt at your head, his hard cock now fully in your face. He was long and thin - he wasn’t going to make your jaw ache but he was going to make you gag on him. A little bigger than average. You lifted your head up and started working on his length, focussing on his sensitive and uncut head first before even attempting to battle the rest of him. There was also something so degradingly hot about everyone talking about you as though you weren’t there. How all of the questions about you and your body were directed to Papa rather than you, simply because you, like the Ghouls, belonged to Terzo and thus, he had spent more time with you than anyone else.

It was as you were beginning to suck on Alpha’s balls you heard the zipper come down on Omega’s trousers. He spat once onto his cock and rubbed it around before placing himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Sister?”

You nodded.

Omega was a little smaller than his brother, and you were actually quite grateful for it. Omega was perfectly average sized, just right for the first cock of the night that’s for sure. You thought he was going to just dive right into you, but in reality, he merely didn’t want to exhaust you too soon. He began slowly, easing himself in and out at a speed that was almost teasing, as if he were trying to drive you crazy. Though, when he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours practically drowned out the sound of the other four groaning at the sight of you getting fucked on the forest floor. Omega couldn’t help himself once he noticed how incredible you felt. The rest of the Ghouls had all shifted somewhat closer to each you for a better look, but you hadn’t noticed to begin with.

“How does she feel, boys?” Terzo asked.

“She’s got such a tight pussy, Papa.” Omega commented.

“Her throat opens up so well for me.” Alpha added, punctuating his sentence with a loud groan. “I can’t wait anymore.” You overheard Alpha utter. “Open up, Sister. I can no longer handle this.”

While Omega pushed his cock deeper into your cunt with his aggressive pace, Alpha slipped his length into your mouth. When Omega fucked into you very hard and laughed at the squeak you let out, which was then followed by a moan. Alpha felt it; your moan made him feel it vibrate around him. “There she is.” His hand tangled in your exposed hair as he pushed himself deeper into your throat.

“She fucking loves this, doesn’t she?” Omega commented.

“Of course she does,” said Terzo. “She can be a bit of a whore when she wants to be.”

When you squeezed Omega, he let out an especially loud moan from between your legs. “Fucking hell, Sister. You feel so good.” He continued thrusting, his pace picking up a lot more. This time there was less control and precision. “She’s gonna make me cum. I’m so close.”

Terzo looked at you and moved a little closer so he could watch. “You want his cum, tesoro?”

You moaned around Alpha in affirmation.

“Omega, pull out and cum somewhere else.”

“But-”

“Only I get to cum inside her.”

After one particularly harsh thrust, Omega pulled himself out of you and came on your pubic mound, his timing not good enough to hit anywhere else. You felt the drips of his seed pour onto your skin as he kept rubbing the head of his cock, trying to brand you as much as he could before the next Ghoul came to play.

Given that his cock was already out, Stream was the next one. But instead of going straight for your cunt, he straddled your stomach. “Someone else can come and take this pussy,” he said reaching behind him and giving it a smack, “I want these beauties.”

Terzo gestured to another one of the Ghouls, “Moss, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Moss was the calmest of all of Terzo’s Ghouls, and usually the most respectful. Which absolutely played out that night. He knelt down in between your legs and again lubed his finger with his spit. “Papa, may I make her cum?” So fucking polite.

Terzo chuckled a little. “Of course.” He replied, tapping Moss’ shoulder.

Moss immediately got to work, using two of his hands to finger you. His left thumb played with your clit as three of his fingers worked your g-spot and refused to let up their pace.

Alpha was now pushing his cock further into your throat, being a little rougher with his thrusts. Terzo’s white gloved hand came to yours and gave it a little squeeze, his eyes looking at you quizzically as if to ask if it was too much. It wasn’t. The idea of all these men using you for their own pleasure should have made you sick at the thought, but the objectification you were feeling only added to your arousal. And so, Alpha just taking what he wanted had you clenching around Moss’ fingers.

Stream, at this point, had pushed your breasts together and started thrusting between them, occasionally spitting in the valley between them to lube your skin up and make the slide more comfortable for him. His thrusts were a lot rougher than Omega’s, and you knew most of that was down to the fact he had been playing with himself as you were being used by the first two Ghouls. “How’s that mouth feeling, Alpha?” Stream asked, watching his cock as it was engulfed in your tits.

“Fucking sinful. She takes it so good. It was like she was made for it.”

“Papa’s gonna kill me for saying this, but I been thinking about these tits for so fucking long. Always wanted to do this.”

Moss, “She just tightened around my fingers.”

Stream, “No shit? I guess she likes hearing about what a tempting Jezebel she is, hm?”

You moaned which earned a similar one from Alpha. “Oh yes she fucking does, listen to those whines. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Pull out!” Papa instructed.

Like Omega, Alpha didn’t pull out as fast as he would have liked. So instead of his cum landing at a more comfortable place on your body, it ended up spilling all over your face, but primarily on your lips, effectively sealing them shut. If you were to open them, Alpha’s cum would just start pouring in. Papa hit the back of his head and gestured vaguely to your face, basically telling him to move his shit before it causes a problem. And so, instead of using his hands, Alpha rubbed his softening and sensitive cock to smear himself around your face and away from your mouth and nose. This meant a lot of it slipped down your cheeks and into your hair, already matted with leaves and soil from the forest floor.

As soon as Alpha walked away, your mouth opened and let out the loudest whine. Hips bucking and a knot tightening in your stomach, you only managed to let out a, “Oh fuck!” before you were cumming around Moss’ fingers. Your hips bucked more violently at the orgasm that was ripping through you, and when you made eye contact with Moss, you saw his eyes light up. He did that. He made you cum. Omega didn’t bother he only stretched you out to make it hurt less, neither did Alpha or Stream even make an attempt for you. That was all Moss’ work. And if you could see his face, you were sure he looked like the cat that got the cream.

The sight of your cum-covered face contorting into an orgasm forced Stream to tip over the edge afterward, his cum now shooting out over your neck and spilling off your skin and into your hair, joining Alpha’s. “Fucking hell!” Stream moaned as his thrusts got weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether. He climbed off you and tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Omega a high five when he’d joined the twins watching the scene play out without them.

“Are you okay, tesoro? Do you want to stop?” Terzo asked, on his knees next to you and holding your hand.

“‘m fine, Papa. It feels so good.” Your voice was very husky and strained as you spoke, Alpha’s cock having done a number on you when he used your throat.

Terzo kissed your hand. “Use the safe word when you need to, amore mio. I’ll kill them if I have to.”

You laughed at his protectiveness but knew it wouldn’t be necessary. The intimate moment you were sharing with your lover was broken by the timid voice of Gale coming over to take his turn. “Papa… may I take her ass? I don’t want to hurt her throat any more than it already is.” His posture was nervous - not because he was typically afraid of Terzo, just because he was a naturally nervous guy. Never wanted to burden or kick up a fuss.

Terzo looked at you, and at your slight nod he gave Gale and Moss permission to do what they needed to as long as they were gentle. Moss lay on his back beside you and beckoned you to straddle him to grant Gale easy access to your ass. Moss took this opportunity to play with your clit once more, circling and swirling his fingers around you to distract you from Gale’s fingers prodding at your second hole. He also used his spit as lube, but made sure he was really taking his time with you because he knew just how painful it would be if he didn’t.

Your second orgasm hit you when Moss’ fingers were moving quickly in tight circles around your clit and Gale was three fingers deep in your ass. The sensation wasn’t one you were used to, as you and Terzo never really did anal that much. But being so full in one hole and empty in the other felt oddly pleasant.

When you were ready, Moss lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed at your hips, sinking you down onto him and taking him completely. Moss was thick - really thick - but a little too short to hit that sweet spot at the back of your pussy. The drag of him against your walls was exquisite though, and every time he bounced you off his hips you could feel him gently brush against your heavily abused g-spot.

Gale entered you next, his cock moving much slower than Moss’ did just to make sure that you were comfortable. Gale, much like the twins, was average sized - or rather, just right. Not so big he hurt you, but not so small you couldn’t feel him. And the added thickness of Moss meant that every part of you was stimulated wonderfully.

The two Ghouls set a pretty even pace to begin with ensuring that you were always full with at least one of them. Every time Moss pulled out, Gale pushed in and vice versa. Eventually,

“Oh, Azmodeus!” You heard Gale grunt from behind you after a particularly sharp thrust. “Sister, your ass hole feels so tight!”

Moss, “Her cunt, too. I won’t last much longer if she keeps squeezing like this!”

“Spank her.” You heard Terzo say from above you.

You felt Gale’s hand come down on you harshly, making you tense and clench around Moss’ cock. “Fuck!”

“She gets tighter, doesn’t she?”

“So much!” He shuddered at the sensation.

Gale, laughing, did it again, this time harder. You clenched again and watched Moss fall apart beneath you. Gale took your ass, while Moss played with your cunt, once again touching your clit and as they felt you tighten, they refused go gentle with you. You found yourself screaming the more merciless they became. That rhythm they built before got faster, and so much rougher, causing your cries to amplify and echo between each of the trees. It felt so incredible to be fucked like that. Two cocks at the same time, rubbing against each other while they were inside you and hitting every single spot so good. You loved the feeling of it.

Terzo’s eyes were blown out to the point where he looked completely crazy. He crouched down to the side of you, at first watching your holes get obliterated by his two Ghouls, but then to the look of pleasure on your face. You reached out to him, your hand holding onto the base of his neck and top of his shoulder as you were railed, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. He got the hint, and leaned forward crashing his lips to yours and giving you the intimacy that you were clearly desperate for. His tongue entered your mouth, and his hand ran all over the parts of your body that he could reach. When he pulled away, he spoke. “Tell me, tesoro, how does it feel?”

“So good, Papa! I - sh-shit - I feel like I’m about to burst.” The moans you were making were absolutely pornographic, but they were real noises being ripped from you. It drove Terzo absolutely insane to hear. A small part of him loved watching his Ghouls use you for their pleasure, he loved hearing what they were doing and he loved that you were feeling so good because of it. He loved that he was also the one calling the shots, ordering them to do things but saving parts of yourself for him.

“You like it when other men fuck you, hm?”

“I do! B-but Papa’s cock is the best!”

“That’s my good girl. Will you cum for us, tesoro?”

“Yes, Papa!”

Moss’ fingers, for the third time that night, tipped you over the edge. Your holes had the both of them trapped in a vice grip as you collapsed onto Moss’ clothed chest. Once you let them both go, they pulled out of you and lay you back on your back, knelt over you, and jerked themselves off until their cum added to the rest of the dried stains on your body. both men moved away to allow Terzo space to get down to your level. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. You were so fucked out, Terzo didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you or fuck you until you passed out.

He whispered, “Can you take any more, tesoro?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He kissed you hard, positioning himself between your legs and taking his cock out of his trousers without breaking the kiss. Eventually, he lined himself up and entered you, his body draping over yours and keeping your faces as close as possible. Terzo was not only blessed by Satan in his name, but also in his anatomy. Terzo sported as much thickness as was proportionate, and always stretched you to your limits as though he were made for you. He would always hit the right spots inside you, and have you seeing stars every time you came on his cock. He continued to kiss you, dote on you, a gloved hand moving down to play with your clit as he snapped his hips, those fucking hips that knew how to love you right. He slammed himself into you, over and over again, trying to be gentle at first but the images of his Ghouls taking turns on you turning him into a horny and feral monster.

“Is this enough for you, slut?” He asked. “Having the sixth cock inside you. You sated enough?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Look at you. You’re an absolute fucking mess. You’re filthy. I like my whores filthy, though.”

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. Your voice was hoarse from screaming all night. You couldn’t keep it in. Even when you had cocks in your mouth you couldn’t stop the noise from coming out. “Feels so good!”

“How are you still so tight after taking all those cocks? Fucking hell, ___. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

Terzo wasn’t a stranger to praising you in bed. Though he enjoyed degrading you, he also knew when it was too much. And right now you had been a good girl for him, for all of them, and you deserved the praise. You felt so good around him. He loved your cunt so much. It’s why you were his favourite, you aligned so perfectly in taste and sensation. He loved wrecking you until you were nothing but a shell of what you were when you entered his room, and you loved being the victim of his frustrations and desires. And even though he was fucking in front of his subordinates, this was still the best sex he’d ever had with you. He was moaning and grunting louder than he ever had before, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in both Italian and English, and his fingers expertly working you, making sure you came before he did.

“Oh God, amore mio. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. Shit. Oh fuck!”

Terzo was sure he’d never cum that hard and that much in his life. So much of it spilled out onto the floor when he’d finally pulled out of you. Terzo was breathless, but he was nowhere near as exhausted as you.

You stayed there, weak and unable to move, you could barely keep your eyes open. All you could think about was how amazing that felt. But Terzo would be damned if he let you pass out, butt naked on the cold, dirty floor of the Ministry’s forest.

You don’t remember how you wound up in Terzo’s bed - you don’t even remember it being the next morning. But there you were, swaddled in his deep red, velvet sheets with his hairy and naked arm draped over you. There was not a part of your body that wasn’t sore - and also thoroughly cleaned. The cum and the majority of the dirt had been cleaned off you, no doubt Terzo did that when he’d got his Ghouls to bring you inside - or at least, you assumed as much. If you were awake for any of it, none of it was coming to mind.

Waking up next to Terzo was always an intimate affair. He loved waking up to your kisses all over his face, but this morning he was awake before you, giving you a lazy and sleepy smile. “How are you feeling now, tesoro?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. “You need to rest, little one. Come, snuggle into me as you like to do. Sleep some more.”

“Anything you say, Papa.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[cryptidinlaw]

[mercymaker]

RUIN - Astarion x Tav fic

A little treat i wrote inspired by a prompt from this list.

Rating: E

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Word count: 2,6k

Content: smut, established relationship, post-game, drow tav, mutual masturbation, sex, blood drinking.

Summary: Astarion wants to see his lover touch herself for him as he does the same. It's no surprise, however, when one thing leads to another, and soon both of them are melting in each other's embrace.

Link to AO3.

They both sat at the opposite ends: Maleane’s back was pressed against the intricately-carved headboard, while Astarion lounged on a pile of burgundy-colored pillows at the foot of the bed. He had instructed the drow to undress just mere minutes ago, in response to her less-than-subtle attempt to drag him back into the bed. It wasn’t common for her to initiate things of such nature, and so, Astarion used this as an opportunity to try something that had been slithering in his mind for days. He wanted to watch her pleasure herself as he did the same, to be parted only by some magic mirror that was reflecting the depraved lust they felt for each other.

As soon as the loose blouse she’d wear to bed joined the set of underwear carelessly tossed on the floor, the vampire spawn motioned for her to begin.

“Go on, darling,” Astarion purred, lazily undoing the lacing of his breeches as he settled comfortably atop the sheets.

His lover followed the command, parting her legs as she smirked, eager to give him a show that he’d been so desperate to receive. In line with his own ever-teasing pace, Maleane moved with deliberate sluggishness, her fingers slowly gliding down her abdomen, as if time was a currency she had no trouble wasting. Yet, it was desire that was moving her hand down to where her thighs met, and as much as she enjoyed teasing Astarion, she wanted to relieve the hunger nestling at the bottom of her belly, feel the pressure on the parts that craved nothing but touch. Seeing her lover pull his cock out his pants was all the encouragement she needed to start touching herself.

“Mmm, that’s more like it.”

His voice felt like velvet around her already hazy mind, and it only deepened the craving to be touched, and felt, and tasted. Mal closed her eyes, focusing on that sensation, allowing her mind to wander freely in the maze of lustful longing. And as her fingers parted her lips, the sorcerer let out a shaky breath that made Astarion’s core tighten.

He watched her carefully, eyes shifting between the soft movements of Maleane’s hand and her face, yet soon a different source of disturbance caught his eye. The drow’s other hand shifted to her chest, soon sinking into the soft flesh of her breast as she fondled herself, tips of her fingers finding the sensitive nub at the top and squeezing gently. That sight was enough to move the vampire’s hips. Astarion didn’t hesitate to wrap his own digits around himself, slowly stroking the length in tandem with his lover’s gentle actions. And when she slipped two fingers inside, he bit his lip in response, fighting the temptation to pounce at her.

“Gods, you’re almost impossible to resist, you know that?” Astarion’s voice was soft, low, wrapped in a ribbon of a whisper. “Every fiber in my body screams to take you, taste you, ruin you.”

Those words rolling out of her lover’s mouth were like an aphrodisiac to Mal. She closed her eyes again and let her imagination guide her hands, conjuring up all those delicious memories from the times that he’d fucked her before.

“Don’t stop talking, please.” It was almost a whimper, how sudden and desperate the sentence sounded as it spilled out between her lips.

And all it did was made the spawn smirk. He knew just how much she loved hearing him spew absolute filth, pulling her into his most depraved fantasies with ease, and what sort of lover would Astarion be if he did not occasionally indulge her?

“My, my, you want me to confess all of my depravities just like that?”

As much as Maleane enjoyed hearing the pale elf detail his many fantasies, Astarion loved teasing her just a little bit more. There was something almost intoxicating about taking the drow on a journey, watching how her body responded to his words, the vivid pictures that he’d been painting in thick brushstrokes dripping only sin.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you, hm?” Astarion was deliberate in the slow pace he was setting. He wished to build anticipation, to feed her morsel by morsel, until she was a shaking mess, ready to unravel in front of him.

Hearing his words, Maleane opened her eyes and, for a brief moment, she could only focus on his hand lazily working his erection. The sight alone made the walls around her fingers tighten momentarily as pleasure shot up her core, sending a breathy whine up her throat.

“Yes,” the sorcerer pleaded, her fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her breast with more hunger than before, “please...”

It was more than obvious that she was growing desperate for more stimulation, any sort of help that would take her just a notch closer to the ever-desired ledge of a climax. And yet, no matter how fast she moved her fingers between her folds, it just wasn’t enough to grow the budding tendrils of pleasure slowly creeping down her tummy.

“I do enjoy hearing that word coming out of your mouth, darling.”

As playful as the vampire spawn wanted to be, his teasing seemed to only hinder whatever journey he’d set his partner on by requesting her to undress and touch herself in the first place. And just like that, Maleane was getting frustrated, chasing a loose thread of pleasure that kept slipping out of her reach with every move. And soon, it was all the sorcerer could focus on.

“I can’t… I can’t fucking do this,” she spat out angrily, unsure whether her irritation was aimed at Astarion or herself.

All it took was a single stray thought, a jab at her pride, a notion that he would make her beg for something that he himself wanted to see, and all the buildup was melting away faster than the wax candles illuminating their room. Mal pulled her hands away from herself, instead leaning back into the headboard of the bed in a frustrated thud.

She was angry at herself, at how easily distracted she was in moments like this, at the ever-brewing chaos of her own thoughts that made disconnecting from all the anxiety and stress a gargantuan task. And above it all, it was her own inexperience, the inescapable maze that was her body and the fact that she struggled to find what truly gave her relief.

Witnessing his lover’s turmoil, Astarion quickly rose from his nest of pillows, closing the distance between them in what felt like a single heartbeat. She was such a fickle thing at times, but—in an odd way—the spawn enjoyed the challenge.

“Mal, darling, look at me,” he whispered as his hand cupped her cheek, lifting the drow’s face up in an attempt to bring back the connection that they’d shared just moments ago.

He could see that thread of arousal slipping outside the perimeter of their bed, but he’d be a rather poor rogue if he wasn’t able to catch it and pull the fabric back together before it was lost for the night. So, instead of wasting the precious seconds yapping about—no matter how seductive his voice sounded—the spawn leaned forward and kissed her with enough passion to ignite a pile of ash.

He pried her lips open with his tongue, slithering inside her mouth like a snake, tasting the sweetness and the warmth within. And when Maleane responded to his kiss with a soft moan, he knew that any doubts or frustrations that had previously threatened to undo all of their work, were—once again—replaced by desire.

“Let me do it,” Astarion finally uttered, parting their lips just enough to be able to speak, “let me ruin you, my love.”

Her mouth reached for his before the spawn even finished talking, desperate to reunite, to taste the lust and the hunger sitting at the tip of his tongue once more. And as they resumed the passionate kiss, Maleane’s hands reached for his body, one grasping his jaw with enough yearning to chafe the skin, while the other sunk into the soft tangle of his white curls, both pushing him closer to her.

“Yes... please,” she repeated those same words once again, her voice desperate and breathless. “Please...”

And just like that, as quickly as her arousal had slipped before, it returned, this time a thousandfold and more obvious than ever.

It was intoxicating—her warmth, her taste, the soft little sounds coming out of Mal’s throat in response to his touch—and soon Astarion felt his own head grow dizzy from the desire to lose himself in her. He touched Maleane, fingers hungrily digging into the soft flesh of her bottom, mapping every single inch of the drow’s skin as if he were a blind man desperately tracing the pages of a book.

As soon as the vampire’s fingers reached the delicate folds nestling between her legs, Mal shuddered, hot air slipping out of her open mouth, warming his own in turn.

“Please,” the sorcerer repeated the word, yet again, closing her eyes as the last remaining traces of stiffness and control melted away from her body.

It was no lie when he told her how much he loved the sound of her voice behind that word, yet Astarion did not expect it to drive him this crazy. Like a primal urge, he felt the need to pin her down and take her, bite into her, relieve that craving scratching at his insides and pooling between his thighs.

All those years of masking and restraint meant nothing when faced with something this raw, this real.

Maleane was warm and alive and entirely his. That thought was enough to completely enrapture him.

He followed the sinful craving, swiftly pushing his fingers into her warmth with ease, making Mal squirm under him as pleasure tingled through every part that he touched. And she was so deliciously wet, that for just a moment it was all the spawn could think of.

“Gods…” Astarion exhaled the word, his mind growing foggy from arousal.

Instead of fighting the surge of lust, the vampire leaned into it, leaving all those trained responses to compose himself and perform behind. He wished to taste her, feel her, replace his fingers with his cock and let her heat envelop him. He wanted to let go of all the thoughts just as much as his lover wished to abandon hers.

For just a mere second, Astarion pulled back—lips blushed and wet from all the hungry kisses—finding Mal’s face as she panted, desperately trying to catch her breath after smooching a man who had no use of breathing. The drow looked back at him, those pale purple eyes begging wordlessly. Maleane didn’t need to say anything, he knew exactly what words were hanging at the tip of her tongue.

Ruin me. Please.

And so the spawn did—pulling her hips towards him as he moved back—giving Maleane enough space to get as comfortable as the short space of time allowed, before he plunged himself inside her, making her gasp in response.

Astarion watched her—the way her fingers grasped at the sheets, the way her breasts moved atop her rib cage, the way her wet mouth opened to allow the most succulent moans to escape her throat—as he fucked her with increasing greed. And yet, no matter how satisfying just plowing into his lover was, it seemed like the frenzied rolling of his hips was only increasing the pale elf’s appetite.

The spawn pushed her sweat-lined thighs even further apart as he leaned forward and into her, one hand gripping Maleane’s jaw as he kissed her open lips, tongue slipping inside her mouth like a slimy eel. He licked and he sucked and he nibbled on Maleane’s flushed lips and she—utterly lost in the lustful maze of pleasure—responded in turn, lifting her head off the burgundy pillow to push her face into his.

As her warmth seeped into his own tepid skin, Astarion couldn’t resist the temptation to take more, swiftly shifting his attention—as well as his lips—to her neck, greedily tracing a line down her gray throat with his tongue. And his hands were just as ravenous, fingers soon gripping the tender flesh of her breasts as his whole body sank into hers, pressing the drow against the silky sheets underneath. It was suffocating in the best way possible, all the sensations pulling Maleane deeper and deeper into the engulfing sea of ecstasy.

She grasped her lover with the same amount of desperation, one hand digging into his back while the other found its place in the damp mess of his white curls. It wasn’t long before Mal felt his teeth softly pressing into her collarbone—one spot, then the other—in what could only be perceived as a silent, yet urgent request to taste more.

“Yes, yes,” the drow uttered with need, a hint of pleading not lost behind her tone.

Maleane craved the sharp pang of his fangs piercing her skin and wished to melt into the bliss she knew would follow. And when he bit into the firm muscle of her shoulder, Astarion felt her walls tighten around his length in a telltale sign of the incoming climax.

He drank—hungrily, greedily—tasting the rich blood on his tongue as if he was a man dying of thirst, letting the ruby liquid unfold inside him like a scroll hiding all of her secrets. Soon, the vampire felt all the pleasure coursing through Maleane’s body as it mixed with his own desire in the most delicious combination two bodies melting into one another could produce.

And she—in turn—could feel his own approaching peak that only enhanced the wave of her pleasure and within seconds, Mal was shaking under him like an aspen leaf.

“Oh, gods, oh, Ast- Astarion.” Maleane’s voice was half a cry and half a moan: whispery, desperate, and almost broken.

He held her close as she unraveled underneath him, as her lifeblood gushed into his mouth, as her nails dug into his back. And in that moment, it was as if they became one—with her essence coursing through his veins, igniting every inch of his undead body.

All it took was a single heartbeat, a deep thrust into her dripping cunt, and the vampire spawn came undone, burying his face in the crook of Maleane’s neck as he filled her with his seed.

They lay there for a moment—hands glued to each other’s skin—allowing their bodies to recover from the height of the intensity that they’d pushed each other to.

Astarion savored the traces of Mal’s blood still sitting on his tongue, the heat radiating off her body, the soothing rise of her chest as she inhaled, again and again. And the drow found comfort in the weight of her lover’s body atop hers, the still-lingering tingle slowly pulsing through her core, the soft numbness in her muscles.

It was euphoric, in a diluted, warm, and comforting way.

“Well,” Astarion spoke after a minute, “that is certainly something I would consider a proper ruination.”

When Maleane opened her eyes she saw the vampire looking back at her, with a half-lidded stare and a smug grin stretched across his pale lips. At times she couldn’t decide if she loved or hated the way he would switch from sincere, genuine moments to something cocky and nonchalant. This time, it seemed like a fair exchange, however, especially as it made her chuckle at his words.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Mal responded, trying her best not feed his ego any more than it needed.

Her fingers combed through the mop of Astarion’s curls, lingering on the back of his head for just a moment, before Maleane gently pushed him to the side.

“Now, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to clean up the ‘ruin’ between my legs,” she added, trying to hold back her laughter.