My names are Clementine and James , feel free to use any variant of those two ,,
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Im a cancer ♋️ ,,
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I am Asian !
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This is a list of topics / kinks I don't feel comfortable writing !
Some of these are subject to change and some are subjective to the piece I'm writing ! For example I might incorporate a mention of in€est in a work because it pertains to the story line ,, but generally speaking , I will not work with these topics ,,
CNC
Step-family romance / nsfw
Extreme BDSM ( dynamics )
Gore nsfw
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MASTERLISTS / NAVIGATION
🌾 — Fluff
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( current work in progress )
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─ summary: When Maekar agreed to have a baby, he thought it a reasonable undertaking. He was not an old man. You were young and healthy and wanted a child of your own and he loved you, so he said yes. Simple enough. He was a fool. aka: you run your poor husband absolutely ragged in the name of family planning
─ pairing: Maekar Targaryen x Wife!Reader (Second Wife)
─ word count: ~2.8k
─ content: 18+ MDNI | Smut | Semi-public sex | Outdoor sex | Pregnancy | Implied Smut| Age Gap| An exhausted man who cannot have any peace in his house
─ a/n: Me if I ever found myself in Westeros. This man would not rest. Inspired by this gif 🖤 Thank you for comments, reblogs, likes, and messages. Part 2 here!!!!
(masterlist) (ao3)
The first sensation you registered was warmth: the solid heat of Maekar's muscular arm draped possessively around your waist. You shifted slightly in sleep; his arm tightened, pulling you flush against the firm plane of his chest. He was already awake, his gaze on you so palpably you felt it on your skin. Then his lips came to you — first a feather-light kiss at your temple, his beard tickling, then another on your cheekbone. He pressed closer; through the thin fabric of your nightgown you felt the hard length of him against your thigh. A low pulse of desire kindled in you. His lips trailed down your throat and you stirred, a soft hum in your chest as you turned toward him.
"Good morning, my love," you murmured, voice thick with sleep and something more.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. He answered with a deeper press of his hips, his erection a hard promise against you. You responded instinctively, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist, opening yourself to him. The gesture was an invitation, a surrender, a demand all at once. He shifted, his hand moving from your waist to grip your thigh, lifting it higher over his hip. He ground against you, the thick ridge of his cock sliding through your folds. The friction was exquisite, a slow, deliberate torture that had you arching your back, a silent plea for more. He seemed to understand. With one hand, he impatiently pushed the hem of your gown up to your waist, his knuckles brushing against your sensitized skin. He paused for a moment, his gaze dropping to where your bodies were about to join. Then he guided the blunt head of his cock to your entrance. He didn't thrust in immediately. Instead, he teased you, circling your clit with the tip, spreading your wetness, making you whimper with need.
"Maekar," you breathed, your hands fisting in the sheets.
Then he entered you, inch by thick inch, letting you feel every stretch, until you both sighed together. His rhythm was languid and possessive. He watched your face as he moved, his violet eyes dark with lust and a deep, unwavering affection. One hand remained on your hip, holding you steady, while the other roamed, tracing the curve of your breast, thumbing a pebbled nipple, then moving down to press against your lower belly, as if he could feel himself inside you from there.
You met his gaze, your own eyes wide and pleading. "Harder," you whispered. He obliged, just a little. His thrusts became deeper, faster, the angle changing so that he brushed against that spot inside you with every pass. A gasp tore from your throat. He leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was just as deep as his fucking. You could feel the orgasm coiling in your core, tight and hot. He must have felt it too — the way your inner walls began to flutter around him.
"That's it, my love," he rasped, his voice a low gravel. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
His words were your undoing. With a sharp cry, you shattered. The pleasure washed over you in waves, intense and all-consuming. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound of satisfaction, and thrust into you one last, hard time, burying himself as deep as he could go. You felt the hot pulse of his release as he spilled inside you. He stayed there, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.
Maekar felt the quiet satisfaction of a man who considered himself more than adequate to the task. He pressed a soft kiss to your sweat-dampened forehead before carefully pulling out of you. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his powerful muscles flexing as he prepared to rise. But before he could stand, you shot out a hand and caught his wrist.
"Where are you going?" Your voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a new hunger already stirring in the aftermath of your pleasure. He looked back at you, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.
"Again?" he asked, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
You just smiled, a slow, feline curve of your lips. That was all the invitation he needed. With a groan that was part exasperation and part pure, unadulterated lust, he got back into bed. He didn't bother with gentle this time.
Later that afternoon, you found him in the passage off the eastern corridor. He was speaking with a steward, his expression serious and focused — a stark contrast to the passionate man from your bed that morning. You waited patiently, leaning against the stone archway, until the steward bowed and took his leave.
As Maekar turned to continue down the hall, you appeared at his elbow as if by magic. You didn't say a word, just gave him a look — a look that promised sin and immediate gratification. He stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly. You took his hand, your fingers lacing with his, and steered him toward a section of the wall he had never paid any mind to, drawing him into a narrow passageway.
The space was tiny, dark, and smelled of dust and old stone. You pressed him back against the wall, your body molding to his, a cheerfulness in your eyes that he found both alarming and extremely compelling.
"Someone will hear," he said, his voice a low warning, even as his hands came to rest on your hips.
"Then we had best be quiet," you said pleasantly, before rising onto your toes and crushing your mouth to his.
You were not quiet.
That evening, you came to the solar as the afternoon light went gold, leaning against the doorway and just watching him. He was seated at his large oak desk, a stack of parchment before him, a book open in his hands.
"I am working," he said, without looking up.
"You were staring at the same page when I came in," you replied, your voice soft and teasing.
This was true. He had been. He closed the book with a soft thud, a sigh escaping him. A slow smile touched his lips. He knew why you were here. You walked toward him, your hips swaying slightly, a small, knowing smile on your face. When you reached him, he took your hand and pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed you, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of wine and shared secrets. His hands roamed your body, relearning every curve. This time, he was slow with you.
Later that night, he was already in bed, propped up against the headboard, a book in his lap. He looked tired, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You were wearing a sheer, almost transparent shift that left little to the imagination. You slid into bed beside him, taking the book from his hands and setting it aside without a word. You straddled his hips, your knees on either side of his powerful thighs. In no time at all, the sound of your bodies meeting filled the quiet room. You collapsed against his chest, boneless and utterly spent.
He fell asleep with you draped over him, your head on his shoulder, your breathing soft and even against his skin. He felt extraordinarily pleased with himself. Five times. He felt not merely capable but frankly impressive. He had satisfied his young, insatiable wife, filled her with his seed again and again. He thought of the child you both wanted, and a deep, primal sense of accomplishment settled over him. He slept the sleep of a satisfied and confident man, his arms wrapped tightly around the woman he adored.
It was the last truly restful night he would have for some time.
ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴏ
The first thing he was aware of was a wet, insistent heat. A groan rumbled in his chest as consciousness slowly returned, his heavy limbs sinking into the mattress. He blinked his eyes open, the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, and looked down. There you were, your head bobbing over his lap, your mouth wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock. One of his hands instinctively flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the wild mass of your curls — not to guide you, but simply to anchor himself in the exquisite, overwhelming pleasure. Later, as you lay tangled together, a sweaty, panting mess, he thought he was the most fortunate man in the world. He revised this opinion as the day progressed.
The late morning air was crisp and clean as you rode out together, the sun warming your faces. Maekar was beginning to feel the profound ache of the previous day in his very bones, a deep-seated weariness that clung to him — but the sight of you, laughing freely as your horse trotted alongside his, filled him with a simple, uncomplicated contentment. You pulled your horse up suddenly near a dense stand of trees, where the grass grew long and looked invitingly soft. You turned to him, and he saw that look in your eyes — that delicious, determined glint he was rapidly becoming an expert at reading. He scanned the path. It was empty, the road quiet for now.
"Here?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"Here," you confirmed, already swinging your leg over your horse and landing gracefully on the ground.
Maekar sat astride his mount for a moment longer, a prince of the realm contemplating his dignity — but the sight of you, already waiting for him with a patient, knowing smile, was a more powerful force. At one point, the distant sound of hoofbeats echoed on the path, and he froze instantly, his body tensing. You just laughed quietly against his throat, the vibrations sending a shiver through him. He decided he had faced down considerably more threatening situations on a battlefield and carried on, the thrilling risk of discovery only making the frantic coupling more intense.
Upon your return to the castle, Maekar all but fled to his chambers, requesting a bath. Hot water. Peace. A single moment to exist without being required to perform. He sank into the steaming water with a sigh of profound relief, letting the heat soothe his aching muscles. He was in it for perhaps four minutes before the door creaked open. You were already unwrapping your robe, your eyes fixed on him. He watched you climb into the large tub with the expression of a man watching an inevitable, beautiful natural disaster.
"You cannot possibly," he said, his voice a low groan of protest.
"I only want to bathe with my husband," you said, your tone entirely too innocent as you settled into his lap.
"You have never simply bathed in your life," he accused — but his hands found your waist regardless, pulling you closer.
In bed that evening, he lay propped against the pillows, watching you in the warm glow of the firelight. He felt the familiar, relentless pull of you — the wanting that had not dimmed one bit, regardless of the state of the rest of him, and he sighed from somewhere very deep in his soul.
"You are going to be the end of me," he said, a statement of fact rather than a complaint.
"Not yet," you said cheerfully, and climbed into bed, your naked body sliding against his.
ᴅᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
Dawn was a grey suggestion at the windows when you moved over him, a familiar warmth settling over his prone form. Maekar's eyes fluttered open, one eye squinting at the ceiling as a low groan rumbled in his chest. He was exhausted, every muscle in his powerful body aching with a sweet, profound soreness, but you were already awake, your eyes bright and determined in the gloom.
"Fuck me," he muttered, the words a breathless prayer.
You leaned down, your hair creating a wild curtain around his face. A slow, wicked smile curved your lips. "That's what I'm trying to do."
He stared at you. In the dim light, you were a goddess of the dawn, all soft skin and resolute purpose. He thought of the man he had been a mere three days ago. Smug in his strength, confident in his stamina, certain that meeting his young wife's desires was a task he could master with ease. What a fool. He saw it now, the utter, beautiful delusion of his pride. With a sigh that was equal parts defeat and surrender, he placed his hands on your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there.
He was a fool, and he was yours.
Somehow, through sheer stubborn will, he made it to his study by afternoon. He slumped in the heavy leather chair behind his desk, the scent of old parchment and wax filling his nostrils. Documents lay strewn before him, the ink blurring into meaningless symbols. He had been staring at the same treaty for an hour when the door creaked open.
"No," he said, his voice rough, not even bothering to look up from the page. He knew the sound of those footsteps. Your soft tread crossed the room, stopping just before his desk. He finally lifted his head, and there it was — that fond, knowing expression, the one you wore when you found him particularly amusing.
"You look weary, husband," you said, your voice laced with a syrupy sympathy that was utterly false.
"I wonder why," he shot back, the edge in his voice blunted by exhaustion.
You gracefully sat in the chair opposite him, arranging your skirts with deliberate slowness. He watched you, a creature of vibrant energy in a room that felt as drained as he did.
"What has gotten into you?" he asked, the question genuine, though he feared he already knew the answer.
"A babe," you said, your eyes gleaming with playful fire, "I pray."
Silence. The only sound was the birds in the trees. He let his head fall back against the chair, staring at the carved wooden ceiling.
"My well has run dry," he confessed, the words tasting of ash. "I am one man. Three days you have had me at every hour the gods see fit to send, and I have nothing left."
You tilted your head, a picture of concern so transparently false it was almost insulting. "Well," you said, rising from your seat, your voice dripping with exaggerated pity, "if you truly cannot manage. I suppose that is fair. You are not as young as you once—"
That was it. The final straw. He was out of his chair before you could finish the taunt, the heavy wood scraping against the floorboards.
"Sit down," he commanded.
ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ
The world had softened into a gentle rhythm. The frantic, relentless pace of those first days had somewhat subsided. He was asleep in the chair by the fire when you returned from the maester, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. You moved silently, sinking to your knees beside him and curling against his side, resting your head on the solid warmth of his chest. He stirred, his arm instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer even in his sleep.
"Maekar," you whispered, your heart thrumming against your ribs.
"Mm," he murmured, his voice thick with slumber.
"The maester confirmed it."
He went utterly still. The hand on your back froze. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze searching your face in the flickering firelight. He looked at this woman who had systematically dismantled his pride, worn his body to the very bone, and in doing so, had given him the entire world. A terrifying, exhilarating wave of love and awe moved through his chest. His hand found yours, his thumb moving slowly, reverently, across your knuckles.
"Satisfied?" his voice a husky whisper.
You looked up at him, your eyes bright with tears and entirely, beautifully unrepentant.
"For now,"
Maekar closed his eyes, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face.
Imagine older mechanic!Simon with collage student!reader. You meet at his shop while checking up on a friend's car. You and him have a good conversation while you wait for the car and after a second visit for the car he offers you his number "incase of a car malfunction" (he could care less about your friends car.) After that he and you are constantly texting for about a year steady, and he takes such good care of you. You say something about being hungry? Food is already at your door. You're having a rough time mentally? He's at your apartment. You need a ride home? Say less.
"Need help bringin these in?" Simon asks you looking at your enormous pile or papers and books in the backseat of his truck already beginning to pick them up. His rolled up sleeves giving you a decent view of his large ink decorated biceps as they flex and exert themselves. The pictures of swirls, crosses among other designs stretch and move according to his movements, the pile lifted out of the truck. A hot feeling washes over your body suddenly. But you decide to ignore the very obvious reasons for it. You give a soft chuckle and respond playfully. "I was planning to just one hand it but sure you can help I guess." Simon smirks a little and begins to head to the door while you fumble with your keys to open the door for him. "Thanks for picking me up Si. Its been a big help recently. I swear my car will be running soon okay?" He nods as he walks into your small studio. As you shut the door gently behind you he sets the book along the glass stove-top of your kitchen counter making a small gliding sound. "Like i said, its not a problem love. Im happy to give you a lift. And i dont mind helpin you fix up the car either." He looks at you gently, sincerely. And your chest feels a little tighter looking at his dusty grey eyes and thick brows as they thicken the atmosphere of the room. You smile softly and start to walk towards your stuff, laying your hands neatly ontop of the pile. "You've done enough for me as is." You let out a small huff of air and your brows furrow lightly as you look at him intently, your smile turning into a look of concern. "Are you sure you dont want me to pay you? Its definitely warranted, and you didnt have to do any of this. It just seems unfair of me." The words come out a little faster and more worrisome then you originally intended but the point stays the same. Simon looks at you, his expression blank for a few seconds. It's not that he wasn't listening to you, trust me. His mind was flooded with the many ways you could repay him. Especially when you looked at him with your pretty fucking face and with your lips slightly parted, the gap showcasing a small string of saliva holding onto each lip. But he didn't want to force anything onto you. He was so sure his fantasies were one sided. And even if you did want to fuck him. He wanted more then that, he wanted to pamper you. To take you on dates, be a gentlemen. And fucking you in this shitty apartment so you could "repay him" wasn't anywhere close to being a gentlemen. Though the thought had made his pants tighter, he wasn't going to act on it. Finally he utters out the words "No need." Your eyes dart to his mouth and begin to focus on the way his coral tinted lips moved together every time he said a new word. His tongue flicking the roof of his mouth to pronounce his Ns. Your mind couldnt help but wander a bit, wondering how he smells up close, how the tips of his calloused fingers would feel running up and down your side, inside of you... Coming back to reality, you flash him a small smile to mask the look of concern on your face and the warmth growing in between your legs. Unsure of weather the way he was treating you was really fair to himself. You decide to drop the topic regardless and thank him again for helping you out. Yet again, unsurprisingly, he tells you it's not an issue and that he's always happy to help and so on. And then he's gone, just like that. The hot feeling in the core of your pussy? Not so much.
speaking to you with a heavy and painful heart. I am sorry that I had to ask for help from you, but what we are living is what pushed me to do this. I was living a beautiful, quiet life, enjoying the time I spend with my grandchildren and seven daughters.
Imagine waking up to find that your world has changed in a moment, and you have lost your security and peace, and your home has been destroyed, and you have become homeless and living in conditions that no human being can bear. I suffer from chronic diseases, high blood pressure and diabetes. My medication has run out for some time and I am facing difficulty in obtaining it in light of the lack of treatment in hospitals and health centers. Most of the time I cannot feel my limbs, but I am trying to resist. I do not want to die in such circumstances. I still have hope that this war will end and we will rebuild our beautiful and beloved country again and live in safety. I believe in divine power and justice and that all this pain will go away.
I am trying to endure these difficult conditions that I live in inside a small tent and a bathroom a few meters away from my tent and you know the conditions of diabetics in this case but once again there is still hope. I used to live at the expense of my daughters but with all sadness and regret they have all lost their homes and places of work and they have no source of income left and their situation is like that of any Gazan who is still inside Gaza struggling with death, hunger, diseases and extreme heat each one struggling to feed his children I cannot ask them for help so I have resorted to you and I am fully confident in your humanity to help me so that I can provide food and treatment and provide a better tent than the one I live in because it is torn and the place is full of insects. If I can provide treatment, I want to continue my life and see my grandchildren grow up around me. I don’t want to go now. I know that I don’t have as much life left as I have, but I have the right to live and enjoy this. Please don’t hesitate to help your mother who has come to you with a heavy and sad heart. Every dollar will make a difference in my life. Don’t leave me to live this pain. I appreciate what you are doing for every Palestinian inside and outside Gaza. I pray to God that you don’t go through what we are going through, my beloved.
Medical visits and insulin: $5000
Travel and transportation to hospital, coordination with Egypt's border: $5000
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@90-ghost
Hello everyone, my name is Eben Taylor and I live in Massachusetts, USA. My … Eben Taylor needs your support for Support Nabila's Fight for
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Part 1
master list here
(The story is heavily inspired by this art made by @miracleboylene)
tags : sevikaxreader, AU of arcane, set in a fantasy/maleficent-inspired world, reader isn't explicitly mentioned or present in this chapter, brief swearing involved, 1000+ words, third person, can't really think of anything else
note : this series will be a bit longer! please don't complain about how many parts this will take, I have to include world-building and add a whole new character. Anyways, enjoy!
summary : Sevika is called to the castle. But for what task?
"We're friends, aren't we?" they ask quietly.
She looked at them, a small pause strung in between them, like the highest cord of a lyre. "Of course."
They scoot closer to the second, taking her hand. My golden girl, They think. The girl with the obsidian hair littering the view of her dusty eyes. Eyes so knowing, knowing of things that should've been kept behind closed doors and garden hedges. The girl with the big voice and shifty eyes. The eyes that have seen so many things that should've been left behind fresh linen sheets and starry skies. The girl with the passionate bearings about small things like rocks, sunrises, and the smell of dandelions in her neighbour's garden. Her small chubby hands, which were calloused from squeezing a wheelbarrow too tight. Her chipped tooth from when she'd fallen off her horse when they were 11. The scar on her left cheek that she'd refused to talk about, and the other thought it was because she wanted to keep something close to her chest. Something that the other didn't know. The girl with her early mornings and secret smiles. The girl with her worries.
The girl with a father who slowly smothered her, his binding words and silent resentment.
The girl with her gentle nature and loyal heart, too precious to be exposed to the world. Yet she was not exposed, but instead thrown, dragged, kicked, and beaten into it. Shamefully.
“And we’re always going to be friends?” They ask, fragile, as if a single breath could undo the 13 years of life they had already lived so boisterously.
The girl looked seemingly undisturbed by this question, a skill she had learned so well from her father. Though internally she wonders what follows this conversation, what tragedy the other could have foreseen to tear them apart so suddenly. ”Yes. Always.” She says, with hesitancy you could only see if you paid close enough attention, gently rubbing her round fingers against the calluses at the edge of her palm.
The other smiles and closes their eyes beneath the twilight, and allow the moonlight to swallow them. Emulating a sharp glistening spark along their contrastingly melanated skin. “That's good enough for me, Golden Girl.”
“Fuck.”
Her fingers fumble the sling for what feels like the millionth time. The bend of her chest leaves little room for anything else, forcing the sling of her prosthetic to crawl its way provokingly between the divot of her mounds. A string of shushed audible fucks leaves her deep brown lips, as she finally reaches for her merlot cape. Quickly tossing it over her shoulder. The metal creaking, a once sturdy design betrays her with its age, rust now lining its entrances and crevices against her shoulder. The floorboards were now littered with sun rays that had broken through her window. She makes a few lazy, but large strides to her varnished entrance door stepping on them, and closing the door with conviction behind her.
“In a hurry Sev?” She turns to see a tall, wide man holding a dull machete and a bucket with questionably cut slabs of assorted vegetables inside. And a lucrative addition of dirt smeared across his upper lip and hairline. A small girl behind him begins to make “snowballs” out of the soppy mud below her. Lightly giggling to herself and her silver hair clips reflecting the sunlight above. Sevika fiddles with the lock on her door, knowing that the frame of it is so torn that the door could easily be kicked down regardless. ”Still rushin’ around? Ya know, I’d say that ‘Vanessa’ up there works you too much these days.” he says with a hand on his hip, twirling the machete loosely in small circles.
“Busy, Vander. Unlike some people, I don't have time for mud pies.” She says unamused and in a slightly bitchy tone as she finishes up with the lock, abandoning it and leaving it open. Her weak brown soles slap the stone path as she rushes uphill. Making way for the tall ivory towers of the kingdom ahead. Vander flicks the machete’s handle against his side, the dull thud matching his quiet sigh. “Alright then.” Vander mumbles, to himself almost. With a huff, he turns around to give the small blue-haired girl a frown, followed by a stern index finger nodding in her direction. She drops the congealed ball of mud and wipes her generously soiled hands on her pant leg.
Sevika ponders the inquiries of the queen, the reason she's walking this absurd distance in the first place. She was accustomed to the queen's requests for intel, small things regarding the people of Sevika’s side of the kingdom. A side the queen herself would rather distance herself from.
The queen knows they're not all animals unlike the rest of the council is convinced. She sees them as important; she knows they serve a greater purpose than even they know. But it is about keeping them in line. The lesser must be cultivated to believe in little, dream small, and keep working —all with no hope of achieving above their means. To keep them tamed you must beat them, kill them, and hurt them. That is a queen's duty. But Sevika’s duty lies in a more urgent nature.
“You're late.” The woman's octave reached lower than Sevika was expecting. Spindling her position, Ambessa faces Sevika. Her expression was rather blank, yet obtrusively disturbed. Sevika didn't reply with words, but instead with a bothered expression that rang “Get to the point.” without verbalizing it. Ambessa saw it and promptly ignored it, moving to more pressing matters than the ugly meaning behind Sevika's contorted face.
A gruff expression of hesitancy clouds her face, her dark brows nuzzle their way into the center of her face and her lips tighten their seal; as if careful not to spill unwanted secrets. “You’ve heard of the market spikes I would imagine? Ref among them.” She slowly began her small circle around Sevika, her heavy feet gently meeting the tile floor. Leaving small unseen traces of dirt and bacteria. The small flickering candles down the hall left glints of orange sprinkled in her luxurious coiled hair, the strands of silver emulating a bright white rather than any specific colour. “It's funny how a dried-up flower can cause so much disturbance when left unattended.” Sevika releases a pent-up sigh from her lightly scared mouth. “And you think I know who's eating poppy seeds?” she asks in an almost rhetorical tone. Ambessa, yet again, doesn't give her sass any attention, looking at her when she speaks but not changing her face to accommodate her words. Turning her head to look at a painting on the wall instead, one depicting her young daughter, who could be no more than a couple of years old by now, maybe 8 or 9. Sevika had seen her daughter a few times, peeking around the corner at her and Ambessa’s conversations or sitting with poise and strictness in portraits along the main hall of the castle, which was always dimly lit, heavily guarded, and the location of these curious conversations. Ambessa allowed a small indent of worry to crumple her brows.
“No. I want order. Ref is a distraction, but distractions are costly.” Her face ever so slightly changed to one of frustration and reminiscence. “Someone a little too close to home has let their greediness get the best of them. Someone’s been careless. Their indulgence compromises more than their purse. It compromises us all.” Sevika's interest peaked, the concept of a part of the court succumbing to what must be public humiliation among the council, the thought amused her. “This weed must be nipped before it grows outside of my jurisdiction. I need someone with a precise hand and… good sheers.” she says, questioning her analogy a bit before she continues speaking. Sevika slowly understanding the picture being painted before her. “Find the hidden game, the treasures buried beneath the decay. Bring them to me, before the wolves smell weakness in our borders. I trust you know how to get your hands dirty, coming from a long line of prestigious hunters.” Her smile doesn't reach her ears, and she lets out a low hum when Sevika relaxes her face out of annoyance, and into curiosity as she begins to speak. “What am I looking for?” Sevika doesn't want to feed the rich by any means, but she of all people knows best what happens when the rich go unfed.
Part 1
master list here
(The story is heavily inspired by this art made by @miracleboylene)
tags : sevikaxreader, AU of arcane, set in a fantasy/maleficent-inspired world, reader isn't explicitly mentioned or present in this chapter, brief swearing involved, 1000+ words, third person, can't really think of anything else
note : this series will be a bit longer! please don't complain about how many parts this will take, I have to include world-building and add a whole new character. Anyways, enjoy!
summary : Sevika is called to the castle. But for what task?
"We're friends, aren't we?" they ask quietly.
She looked at them, a small pause strung in between them, like the highest cord of a lyre. "Of course."
They scoot closer to the second, taking her hand. My golden girl, They think. The girl with the obsidian hair littering the view of her dusty eyes. Eyes so knowing, knowing of things that should've been kept behind closed doors and garden hedges. The girl with the big voice and shifty eyes. The eyes that have seen so many things that should've been left behind fresh linen sheets and starry skies. The girl with the passionate bearings about small things like rocks, sunrises, and the smell of dandelions in her neighbour's garden. Her small chubby hands, which were calloused from squeezing a wheelbarrow too tight. Her chipped tooth from when she'd fallen off her horse when they were 11. The scar on her left cheek that she'd refused to talk about, and the other thought it was because she wanted to keep something close to her chest. Something that the other didn't know. The girl with her early mornings and secret smiles. The girl with her worries.
The girl with a father who slowly smothered her, his binding words and silent resentment.
The girl with her gentle nature and loyal heart, too precious to be exposed to the world. Yet she was not exposed, but instead thrown, dragged, kicked, and beaten into it. Shamefully.
“And we’re always going to be friends?” They ask, fragile, as if a single breath could undo the 13 years of life they had already lived so boisterously.
The girl looked seemingly undisturbed by this question, a skill she had learned so well from her father. Though internally she wonders what follows this conversation, what tragedy the other could have foreseen to tear them apart so suddenly. ”Yes. Always.” She says, with hesitancy you could only see if you paid close enough attention, gently rubbing her round fingers against the calluses at the edge of her palm.
The other smiles and closes their eyes beneath the twilight, and allow the moonlight to swallow them. Emulating a sharp glistening spark along their contrastingly melanated skin. “That's good enough for me, Golden Girl.”
“Fuck.”
Her fingers fumble the sling for what feels like the millionth time. The bend of her chest leaves little room for anything else, forcing the sling of her prosthetic to crawl its way provokingly between the divot of her mounds. A string of shushed audible fucks leaves her deep brown lips, as she finally reaches for her merlot cape. Quickly tossing it over her shoulder. The metal creaking, a once sturdy design betrays her with its age, rust now lining its entrances and crevices against her shoulder. The floorboards were now littered with sun rays that had broken through her window. She makes a few lazy, but large strides to her varnished entrance door stepping on them, and closing the door with conviction behind her.
“In a hurry Sev?” She turns to see a tall, wide man holding a dull machete and a bucket with questionably cut slabs of assorted vegetables inside. And a lucrative addition of dirt smeared across his upper lip and hairline. A small girl behind him begins to make “snowballs” out of the soppy mud below her. Lightly giggling to herself and her silver hair clips reflecting the sunlight above. Sevika fiddles with the lock on her door, knowing that the frame of it is so torn that the door could easily be kicked down regardless. ”Still rushin’ around? Ya know, I’d say that ‘Vanessa’ up there works you too much these days.” he says with a hand on his hip, twirling the machete loosely in small circles.
“Busy, Vander. Unlike some people, I don't have time for mud pies.” She says unamused and in a slightly bitchy tone as she finishes up with the lock, abandoning it and leaving it open. Her weak brown soles slap the stone path as she rushes uphill. Making way for the tall ivory towers of the kingdom ahead. Vander flicks the machete’s handle against his side, the dull thud matching his quiet sigh. “Alright then.” Vander mumbles, to himself almost. With a huff, he turns around to give the small blue-haired girl a frown, followed by a stern index finger nodding in her direction. She drops the congealed ball of mud and wipes her generously soiled hands on her pant leg.
Sevika ponders the inquiries of the queen, the reason she's walking this absurd distance in the first place. She was accustomed to the queen's requests for intel, small things regarding the people of Sevika’s side of the kingdom. A side the queen herself would rather distance herself from.
The queen knows they're not all animals unlike the rest of the council is convinced. She sees them as important; she knows they serve a greater purpose than even they know. But it is about keeping them in line. The lesser must be cultivated to believe in little, dream small, and keep working —all with no hope of achieving above their means. To keep them tamed you must beat them, kill them, and hurt them. That is a queen's duty. But Sevika’s duty lies in a more urgent nature.
“You're late.” The woman's octave reached lower than Sevika was expecting. Spindling her position, Ambessa faces Sevika. Her expression was rather blank, yet obtrusively disturbed. Sevika didn't reply with words, but instead with a bothered expression that rang “Get to the point.” without verbalizing it. Ambessa saw it and promptly ignored it, moving to more pressing matters than the ugly meaning behind Sevika's contorted face.
A gruff expression of hesitancy clouds her face, her dark brows nuzzle their way into the center of her face and her lips tighten their seal; as if careful not to spill unwanted secrets. “You’ve heard of the market spikes I would imagine? Ref among them.” She slowly began her small circle around Sevika, her heavy feet gently meeting the tile floor. Leaving small unseen traces of dirt and bacteria. The small flickering candles down the hall left glints of orange sprinkled in her luxurious coiled hair, the strands of silver emulating a bright white rather than any specific colour. “It's funny how a dried-up flower can cause so much disturbance when left unattended.” Sevika releases a pent-up sigh from her lightly scared mouth. “And you think I know who's eating poppy seeds?” she asks in an almost rhetorical tone. Ambessa, yet again, doesn't give her sass any attention, looking at her when she speaks but not changing her face to accommodate her words. Turning her head to look at a painting on the wall instead, one depicting her young daughter, who could be no more than a couple of years old by now, maybe 8 or 9. Sevika had seen her daughter a few times, peeking around the corner at her and Ambessa’s conversations or sitting with poise and strictness in portraits along the main hall of the castle, which was always dimly lit, heavily guarded, and the location of these curious conversations. Ambessa allowed a small indent of worry to crumple her brows.
“No. I want order. Ref is a distraction, but distractions are costly.” Her face ever so slightly changed to one of frustration and reminiscence. “Someone a little too close to home has let their greediness get the best of them. Someone’s been careless. Their indulgence compromises more than their purse. It compromises us all.” Sevika's interest peaked, the concept of a part of the court succumbing to what must be public humiliation among the council, the thought amused her. “This weed must be nipped before it grows outside of my jurisdiction. I need someone with a precise hand and… good sheers.” she says, questioning her analogy a bit before she continues speaking. Sevika slowly understanding the picture being painted before her. “Find the hidden game, the treasures buried beneath the decay. Bring them to me, before the wolves smell weakness in our borders. I trust you know how to get your hands dirty, coming from a long line of prestigious hunters.” Her smile doesn't reach her ears, and she lets out a low hum when Sevika relaxes her face out of annoyance, and into curiosity as she begins to speak. “What am I looking for?” Sevika doesn't want to feed the rich by any means, but she of all people knows best what happens when the rich go unfed.
I still think it's crazy that Caitlyn has been using chemical weapons on innocent civilians from Zaun for months fully knowing it will cause the death of hundreds or even thousands and cause dangerous diseases to others only to spread terror and catch one girl and in the end she not only got 0 repercussions but also got to play the role of a hero.... She has been doing it for a prolonged period of time she is bound to have a super high kill count.
She is like Singed only nobody is defending Singed.
She has used it for months. There is nothing that indicates that she stopped or that it was a one time incident. On the other hand in the official minigame "Jinx fixes everything" that is set in arcane s2 act 2 AFTER Jinx encounters Warwick it's possible to read a fragment about how innocent Zaunites have been (present time) experiencing health problems because Piltover (Caitlyn) decided to use against them chemical weapons that were so toxic and vile even Piltover pre-Caitlyn that couldn't care less about civilians from Zaun vowed to never use it again. It is also specified that the grey "returns" (present tense) not the "grey" appeared, didn't hurt anyone and disappeared and Piltover stopped using it. The time skip between act 1 and 2 was confirmed to be several months.
And to the people who says Cait only targeted criminals all I've got to say is that this is an official art:
Clearly, it's possible to use this poisonous chemical weapon depicted above to target specific people.. which is why we see numerous houses completely engulfed in it. Clearly, all those homeless people in Zaun and all those who just have to leave their homes from time to time wouldn't be affected at all.
Lastly, whenever there's a time skip it usually indicates a certain status quo where nothing important changes. I'm not going to assume out of nowhere that somewhere off-screen during the time skip Cait changed her mind about her tactics and chemical weapons usage especially since she doesn't have a reason to. I'm also not going to assume that she slept with Maddie only one time despite the show not showing us that either, and I'm not going to assume Vi was only in the bar or fighting in the boxing matches those several times that we have seen on screen. It may have been shown explicitly only one or few times but this is to indicate what has been happening for several months.
Cait had no problems with using chemical warfare on civilians in act 1 only to get Jinx. We have seen her slowly using more drastic measures. In the end, she doesn't manage to get Jinx in act 1, but there is still no conflict or recognition in her. She believed what she was doing was ok even at the end of act 1. Since Jinx was still free and Cait didn't change her mind it's only logical to conclude that Cait continued her chase using the same or even more drastic measures not that she randomly switched off screen. That would have been just bad writing. We only see her truly changing her mind about killing Jinx at all costs in act 2. Before that change act 2 shows that more and more people in Zaun side with Jinx and that they're still being actively oppressed and imprisoned by Piltover (ruled by Cait).
The fact that Jinx was a terrorist who did a lot of evil things is irrelevant. It doesn't make Cait any less guilty. The idea that "one girl from Zaun did that and that therefore it's ok for Cait to continue to use chemical weapons on the entire city" where most people are innocent is illogical.
By that exact same logic, there’s nothing that indicates that she continued it after the time skip.
The tie-in video game lore (that I don’t think should count because it’s not in show) doesn’t specify that it’s happening AFTER the time skip. She’s referencing what happened before when they were hunting her down. And she doesn’t specify when or how long it went on for. Again, that initial strike force attack was a couple weeks at best not months.
And, if we’re going from Jinx’s perspective you don’t think there’s a bit of an unreliable narrator voice to all that given that SHE was the target?
The grey is also not a smog monster with eyes, so again that’s kinda creative interpretations from the undercity. Much like the same sorts of illustrations we DO see in the show. Not really sure you can use that as “proof.”
I’m not trying to give Caitlyn a pass. She did terrible things, yes. But I do have a feeling like you’re over inflating her bad deeds and underselling Jinx’s. I’ve done a lot of deep dive analysis on Caitlyn’s arcs which I have pinned to my homepage if you’re curious to go more in depth.
the comment abt season one cait not giving a shit abt the undercity at all is making me giggle LMAO , she has a WHOLE SCENE where she basically lectures her mother about the struggles of the zaunites and how they deserve better then that. but yeah, caitlyn hates them all. good job sherlock 🫡
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Im writing that asshole!sevi who moans her own name when she cums thing because its so funny and she would do that 💯
Includes cheating, Sevi being a hey mamas lesbian, biphobia on sevis part, breeding kink, strap refered to as cock/dick, degredation, praise (of herself), lack of aftercare, just overall sevika being a massive dickhead
Sevika insisted she show you what a real man should fuck you like. You'd been complaining about your dumbass boyfriend who rubbed your thigh for 45 minutes telling you to cum whenever you felt close. Eventually you had to just moan and pretend you'd finished, because everytime you attempted to guide his hand to your actual pussy he'd say "nuh uh princess, daddy knows exactly what he's doing." Given that he didnt FUCKING KNOW WHAT HE WAS DOING, you just needed it to be over.
When you told sevi about this, she immediately shoved her hand down your panties. You gasped and grabbed her bicep, but you didn't attempt to stop her. When she immediately found your clit and thumbed at it, she laughed. "I dont understand men. Clits the easiest part to find."
She thumbed at you a little before getting frustrated. "Your boyfriends weak, you need a butch to fuck you good. I'm good for that, mamas."
You tried not to cringe but to no avail. Mamas? Lord, she really was an asshole, a walking stereotype. "Come on, let me turn you into a lesbian." She said, pawing at your tits under your shirt. Given that you had told her multiple times you were bi, you damn near gave her your hundredth 'bisexuality is valid' speech. But, right now, you didn't mind getting fucked by an asshole if it meant you'd at least get fucked.
You slid off your trousers while she unbuttoned the fly on her jeans. Why didn't it surprise you that she was packing? Every time you came round her house she seemed to have a bulge, or a thick cylinder against one of her thighs. "You've been waiting for the day i finally let you, haven't you?" you scoff, watching as she grabs a small vibrator out her pocket to stuff into herself while she fucks you.
"Ive been anticipating it mamas. Knew you couldn't resist me. Im just too fucking hot." Okay, she was cocky, but you couldn't deny it was warranted. She was really hot. Her toned arms, her abs, that giant muscular ass. She was very, very sexy. She just had the personality of a wet shower mat.
She opted to tear a hole in your panties instead of taking them off and you yelped. "Those were expensive you bitch!" You shouted, slapping her shoulder with the back of your hand. "What's a slut like you doing with expensive panties?" She taunted while sliding the tip of her strap between your folds. You groaned when she slapped it against your clit.
"My boyfriend bought them for me, if you must know!" You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. She laughed and turned her vibrator onto the lowest setting, her breath hitching. "Give up on men. Stop pretending you're not a dyke." She grumbled, making your eyes roll again. Shes such an ass.
Despite how pissed you were with her ripping your panties, she seemed to learn nothing and ripped your shirt. You yelped again but were shushed when she stuffed her cock into you and held there. The sudden stretch was overwhelming. She was so big. Your boyfriend was a humble and perfectly okay 5 inches, but from the way Sevikas dick was poking out of your tummy you could tell she was much bigger.
She pressed down her hand on your stomach and groaned. "Fuck, I'm so big. I stuff you so good." She moaned out.
Was she seriously... Praising?? Herself?? "Fuck im so good. I fuck you so good."
Yes, yes she was.
She wound her hips a little while playing with your nipples, her length grinding against your spots. You were so filled up, starting to feel pretty dumb as you struggled to accommodate her dick. She turned up her vibrator again. "You're such a fucking slut. Sitting here with your clothes ruined, gripping on my hips, what about your poor little boyfriend, hm?" She spoke darkly, the rasp in her voice suddenly much more prominent.
You started to play with your clit a little, but she batted your hand away. She didn't replace it with her own, making you wind up your face in frustration. "Im fucking you deep enough. Dont try that shit."
.. Did she not know that some people cant cum from penetration..
"I dont care if you don't cum. I just want to ruin that cunt."
Right.
She hoisted her leg up so as to place her foot onto the sofa, lifting your leg and pressing it against your head. She started roughly fucking into your pussy, your eyes rolling back as the base of her strap slapped against your ass with each thrust. Each time she pulled almost the whole way out and slammed back in to the base you whined, hands going up to play with your nipples.
"Fuck, im doing so good." she groaned, turning up her vibrator just a little more. "Fuck im so good! I fuck you so good!" She shouted, thick fingers shoving their way down your throat, making you gag, making tears trickle down your cheeks. "I bet when he throat fucks you he barely touches the back of your mouth." She mutters, fingers harshly pushing as far down your throat as she can get them. Its true, her fingers are pretty much the same size as his dick, though much thicker. Shes a big woman! Its not your boyfriends fault that hes small!
"Fuck baby you feel that?" Youre confused when you feel liquid start to fill your pussy, even more confused when Sevika pulls out momentarily to shoot it across your tits. "Cumming on you baby, cumming across that pretty body. Fuck, such a slut. So messy." She pants out, rubbing her strap as if its a real cock. She slams back in and you use her 'cum' to assist in circling your nipples. She keeps filling you, her strap clearly filled with a lot of this substance. It leaks out of you with each thrust and forms thick webs between her thighs and yours.
"Fuck im filling you so much, im cumming in you so much. Gonna breed you baby, gonna fill up that pussy with my cum." She moans, her vibrator now on max.
"B-breed me- g-give me your cum Sevi -" you stammer. Her eyes are now shut completely, so you take the opportunity to quickly rub at your clit. You're so close, feeling her fill you was damn close to making you cum, her pace brutal, but you need that extra bit of stimulation.
You scream out "Sevikaa-" cumming onto her messy cock, your pussy ruined, and its all so hot until-
"SEVIKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
She roars it out with no shame.
What.
The.
Fuck.
What the actual.
You cant help laughing, even with her dick still burried inside you, still slamming into you. She shoves her fingers back into your mouth to shut you up. Shes still saying her name! She is still breathing out her OWN name with each thrust.
She pulls out and shoves her dick in your face, cum leaking onto your cheeks and into your hair. "Stop it, you asshole!" You giggle when she just starts using her dick as a paintbrush to cover your entire body in her mess.
"Ewwww this is so gross," you complain, wiping your breasts off with your ripped shirt. "Fuck sake Sevika, this bra was new!"
She scoffs and pulls out her vibrator, shoving it into your mouth. She walks off and starts smoking on the balcony. Erm. Excuse you. You suck her juices off a little, expecting her to come back, maybe lift you over her shoulder and carry you into the bath. Nope. She starts watching YouTube reels loud as fuck.
"Are you gonna clean me up or what?" You yell. Your pussy is gaping, you're drenched in fake cum and, quite frankly, she owes you some form of aftercare if she doesn't want you spreading that she moans her own name when she cums!
"Nah, showers back there." She points lazily with her thumb. Shes such a dick.
Prompt #1089: “Why did you come back?” “Because I forgot something important.” “Oh, what did you forget?” “You, you idiot.”
Prompt #1070: “Sorry I tried to kill you.” “It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.”
Prompt #1103: “Stop following me.” “Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?”
Prompt #1101: “I’m not the right person for you.” “You’re doing a bad job of convincing me of that.”
Prompt #1082: “You’re just as bad as I am.” “Oh believe me, I’m much worse.”
Prompt #1099: “Have I ever given up on you?” “No, never.” “Then don’t force me to do it now.”
Prompt #1073: Sometimes guardian angels don’t have a lovely singing voice and a set of fluffy wings, sometimes they have a deep frown on their face and a very bad attitude.
Prompt #1078: “Why do you think that you need to fix me? Who told you I was broken?”
Prompt #1062: “Don’t look at me like that.” “How am I looking at you?” “Like you love me.”
Prompt #1092: “If I had asked, would you have stayed?” “You didn’t ask. So we’ll never know.”
Goodbye 2024 and hello 2025! I wish you all a wonderful start into the new year!
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Knight Sevika x Princess reader where Silco is the king and you’re his daughter and Sevika works under him??? Omg I’m a genius someone write this ASAP and tag me PLEASEEE 🙏🙏😭🥴😵💫