𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ✶⋆.˚ 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

What if she is kissing me but then stops to take off my glasses using her teeth then kisses me again ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

A girl can dream 😔

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 | 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

18+ minors please dni ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙content warnings: somno, cnc, scissoring, pervert!sevika

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧

the sheets rustled as sevika groaned herself awake. she awoke in a cold sweat that made every piece of fabric cling on any patch of skin it could find. sevika has never awoken from such a disgustingly, filthy dream. but the longer she’s awake the further the dream slips away from her. the last affects of the sex dream remain though. her clit achingly throbs like a second heart. somehow throughout the night you had rolled into sevika’s chest and tucked your leg between hers.

sevika didn’t necessarily want to wake you for the sole purpose of getting off. but if she rolls her hips right—maybe she can get enough friction to come without rousing you. sevika’s arm secures itself tighter around your back. your breathing remains steady. sevika gradually shifts and rotates her hips until she’s positioned her pussy on the apex of your thigh.

burying her nose in the messiness of your bed hair—sevika takes a deep sniff. you smell like hers. cautiously sevika drags her hips tentatively across your thigh. she holds her breath—not knowing if you’ll wake. but you remain still. such a perfect little doll, sevika thinks. the metallic fingers of sevika’s prosthetic angles your thigh even more against her cunt. the pressure is almost enough. her hips heavily grind down again. no, that’s not it. it felt better dragging herself the length of your thigh. she opts to try that method again.

sevika’s body produces more of a sweat from her attempts to get off. it’s starting to frustrate her. but she needs you. sevika knows she cannot simply roll over and rub one out. her body craves you. sevika feels the beginning of an idea sparking. she carefully rolls you on your back, brushing some hair out of your face. her fingers pause mid stroke when you mumble. but nothing more happens.

humming to herself in contentment, sevika diligently parts your legs wider before kneeling between them. tonight is one of those nights sevika’s fucking grateful you sleep without underwear. she cannot even fathom why she argued over something as banal as this. her mouth waters at the sight of your pussy in the moonlight. blinking away the distraction, sevika wiggled her boxers off her hips. she sits down quickly to tugs them off and toss them somewhere.

sevika returns to her former position kneeled between your spread thighs. her hands soothingly run up the soft skin of your thighs. marveling at how remarkable still you are in your sleep. if sevika’s clit wasn’t so distracting the woman would take the time to get you properly ready. but she’ll have to make do.

shifting on her knees sevika widens them enough where she can easily reach her own cunt. her fingers thickly skim down her folds and she hisses at how sensitive she is. sevika isn’t thrown too off guard with the sheer amount of mess coating her fingers. she felt it when she peeled off her boxers. her fingers shine in the dim light graciously afforded by the moonlight through the sheer curtains. sevika didn’t even really need to prep you. her own wetness would be enough. but she cannot resist. sevika crotches forward. one hand, her metal one, sinks into the mattress while the other slowly drags her soaked fingers up the length of your pussy. she all but trembles with the sinful action. and the only reaction that comes from you is tiny whine. it’s not even enough to convince sevika your sleep conscious mind registered the sensation.

regardless sevika eagerly plunges her own fingers back into her overly sensitive cunt and only pumps them in briefly. she gathers, scoop one might say, a generous amount of her own slick once again. it’s far more than the first time. sevika’s fingers return to your pussy. it takes a few passes through your folds and over your hole for all of sevika’s mess to transfer. your legs only twitched once.

sevika hums her satisfaction. “you’re so perfect, baby.” she utters softly. “and i’m so sorry…but i have to. i need to.”

she positions her body opposite yours. her left leg slotted over your right. sevika’s fingers curl into the sheets as she wills her body to stop fucking trembling. sevika feels desperate. insatiable. her senses have never driven her to such extremes. never once awoken from a dream and sweating out the fever of a lost orgasm. she wishes desperately her fingers would work. but after years owning your heart, body and soul—sevika can never take herself there alone.

and it’s exactly why she’s angled her cunt parallel to yours. sevika knows within minutes of sensually grinding her pussy against yours she’ll be released from this agony. she holds back the groan of approval housed in the depths of her throat. you’re warm and still covered with sevika’s juices. and it seems her few passes made you wet on your own.

“my needy girl…” sevika whispers out as she finally begins moving her hips.

it’s not entirely the easiest orgasm. usually sevika can hold your hand or thigh for leverage. or position your legs wider or higher. but sevika can make do. especially when each brush over her swollen clit against yours sends a heated spark in sevika’s stomach. she can feel herself dripping out and making a mess of you. her hand eventually circles your thigh—bending your leg. and it works. sevika’s strength can easily hold this position. it gives her more breadth and her clit freely glides against yours.

sevika’s body builds up the familiar sensations of her orgasm. her toes curl and uncurl. the muscles in her abdomen almost hurt from coiled tension. then she hears your tiny whimpers. sevika’s ears cannot differentiate if it’s whimpers of pleasure or if you’re slowly waking.

“sev?” sevika for sure knows you’re awake. your voice is faint and whiney and she could almost miss it. sevika cannot fully see your face but she knows you’re sporting that confused pout. the one where your lips are so damn kissable and your eyebrows bunch in light whisper.

her hips don’t come to a full stop. sevika cannot bring herself to. “shh…it’s okay, baby. i’m almost done. i promise. i’m so close.”

your body barely registered sevika’s actions at first. you were waking up from a warm dream. a warm and tingly dream. your body had never felt so relaxed. you called out sevika’s name only because you hadn’t waken in her arms. it is only after sevika coos at you did the realization set in.

“mm..sev…” you whine out again. not in distress but because now you’re inappropriately horny. it is clear your body did not receive any release.

“i know, doll. i know. let me handle it, baby. i’ll make you feel good. i promise.”

to the moving and the strange

arcane | silcovander | explicit, 4k, no revolution au canon divergence | fighter Vander, manager silco

written for @zaundads-week Day 4: Alternate Universe

Vander’s heart automatically skips a beat; he knows, he hopes Silco won’t allow him to reach it without a toll, and Vander is very ready to pay it. They both know this dance by now. Even after the cold shower, Vander leaves the fights always drunk on adrenaline, and since they started fucking he feels driven to him the minute he’s out. This is bound to be a disaster: they are supposed to be working together. Silco is the one that actually has the patience to know which fights to pick; before they started working together, Vander lived way worse. He should worry about that, about not losing him as a friend and as a manager for a good fuck.

He should; he doesn’t.

continues here on ao3

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

She had NO RIGHT looking that good!!! Anyway rock, paper DEFINITELY scissor🥴✂️🥵

Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:  

- Strong sense of guilt,  

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep 

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.  

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.  

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.  

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.  

Viktor:  

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.  

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.  

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.  

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.  

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.  

Ekko:  

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,  

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.  

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.  

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:  

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.  

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.  

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.  

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.  

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.  

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.  

Silco:  

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.  

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.  

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.  

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.  

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.  

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.  

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.  

Jinx:  

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.  

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.  

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.  

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.  

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.  

Vi:  

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,  

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.  

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.  

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.  

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.  

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,  

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:  

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.  

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.  

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.  

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.  

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Mel:  

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.  

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.  

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.  

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.  

Sevika:  

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.  

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.  

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.  

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.  

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.  

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.  

(@silq.co) one my fav vanco edits ive ever seen.

How do you think arcane characters would react to burn scars? I have them on the back of my thighs and thought I can't see them everyone who can says they cover most of my thighs and there dark

Your burn marks are a symbol of strength, not flaws. They tell a story of resilience, and that makes you uniquely beautiful. <3 please never feel otherwise.

Burn scars.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: arcane characters reacting to your burn scars

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. A lot of sensitive topics like, burn marks , insecurities, self doubt, the way the reader got the scars are not mentioned, if anyone is uncomfortable in reading about scars or is triggered I suggest to please not read this

Jayce Talis.

The evening was warm, the kind of night where the city hummed with quiet life outside the lab’s tall windows. Jayce sat on the floor of his apartment, leaning against the couch, his arms stretched out behind him as he watched you.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, legs stretched in front of you, absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh.

The moment your fingers brushed over a particular spot, you flinched.

Jayce noticed immediately.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, careful. Not his usual booming confidence, but something gentler.

You hesitated. "Yeah, just..." Your fingers ghosted over the area again before you sighed. "Old scars."

His brows furrowed, eyes dropping to your legs. And that’s when he saw them.

Burn scars.

uneven marks stretching across the back of your thigh, the kind that told a story—one you clearly weren’t eager to share.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly aware of his silence. "They’re not a big deal," you said quickly, a half-hearted attempt to brush it off. "I don’t even think about them most of the time."

Jayce didn’t look convinced.

"Can I?" He gestured slightly, not reaching out but offering the space for you to decide.

You hesitated.

Most people pretended not to notice them. Others stared without thinking, their curiosity poorly disguised. But Jayce... he was just waiting.

After a long moment, you nodded.

Carefully, he reached out, his fingers brushing over your skin—warm and deliberate. He didn’t recoil, didn’t wince, didn’t try to mask any reaction.

He just held you.

His thumb traced the edges of the scars with something close to reverence, his touch featherlight but grounding. "You know..." His voice was quieter now. "Scars aren’t something to hide."

You scoffed, a weak attempt at a laugh. "Easy for you to say. You don’t have—"

"I don’t," he admitted. "Not like these. But I know what it’s like to carry something from the past. And I know it doesn’t make you any less..." He swallowed, searching for the right words. "You."*

Your chest ached at the sincerity in his tone.

Slowly, his hand slipped down, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don’t have to pretend they don’t exist," he murmured. "And you sure as hell don’t have to pretend they don’t bother you."

The knot in your throat tightened. You weren’t sure what to say—if you even could say anything. So instead, you squeezed his hand, letting the weight of his words settle between you.

Jayce squeezed back.

And in that moment, the scars didn’t feel quite as heavy.

------------------------------------------------

Mel Medarda.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the silk-draped walls of Mel’s quarters, casting long shadows across the ornate furniture. A gentle breeze drifted in from the open balcony, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of Piltover’s nightlife.

You sat curled up on the velvet chaise lounge, legs draped over the side, basking in the rare quiet moment. Mel was beside you, her fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along your arm as she studied a painting she had been working on earlier.

"You’ve been quiet tonight," she observed, her voice smooth but laced with curiosity.

You hesitated before shrugging. "Just tired."

She hummed softly, setting aside her brush before shifting to face you fully. Her golden eyes roamed over you, perceptive as always, until they landed on where your pants had shifted slightly—just enough to expose the back of your thigh.

Her fingers stilled.

"Come here," she murmured, voice softer now.

You hesitated for a beat before sitting up, allowing her to gently tug you closer. With a delicate touch, she brushed the fabric further up, revealing the burn scars beneath.

You watched her expression carefully, waiting for the usual flicker of pity, the well-meaning reassurances you’d heard a hundred times before.

But Mel Medarda did not deal in empty sentiments.

Her eyes traced the scars slowly, as if committing every detail to memory. "These..." she started, her fingers ghosting lightly over the uneven skin. "They remind me of gold leafing."*

You blinked. "Gold leafing?"

"Mhm." She tilted her head, her braids shifting over her shoulder. "In my homeland, when something is broken, it is often mended with gold—highlighting the cracks instead of hiding them. It is meant to show resilience. Beauty in imperfection."

Your throat tightened slightly. "I don’t think most people would call these beautiful."*

Mel’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your gaze to hers. "Most people lack vision."

The weight of her words settled between you, unspoken but understood.

Then, her lips brushed against the scarred skin—slow, deliberate, reverent.

A shiver ran through you at the intimacy of it, the way her breath warmed your skin, the way her fingers trailed up your thigh with featherlight precision. She placed another kiss, then another, until the tension in your shoulders melted under her touch.

"You are art," she whispered against your skin. "Even in the places you try to hide."

A shaky breath left your lips, but for once, you didn’t pull away.

For once, you let yourself believe her.

------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

The lab was quiet except for the steady scratching of Viktor’s pen against paper and the occasional hum of machinery. You were seated on the workbench across from him, stretching your legs out absentmindedly after a long day.

It had been a particularly warm evening, and in the comfort of the empty lab, you had rolled up your pants slightly to cool off. You hadn’t even realized that in doing so, you had exposed a part of your thigh—until Viktor’s gaze flickered over, and he stilled.

His pen halted mid-word. His golden eyes lingered, brows furrowing slightly.

"You are injured?" His voice was quiet, yet laced with something unreadable.

You blinked, following his line of sight before quickly tugging your pant leg back down. "No, it’s just... scars," you muttered, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of his stare. "Old ones."

Viktor didn’t look away. "May I see?"

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because most people either avoided acknowledging the scars altogether or gave you the same well-meaning but rehearsed reassurances.

But Viktor wasn’t most people.

With a quiet breath, you slowly rolled the fabric back up, revealing the uneven burn scars across the back of your thigh. You didn’t look at him—didn’t want to see whatever expression he might be wearing.

Seconds passed in silence.

Then, the gentle scrape of his chair as he moved closer.

Viktor didn’t reach out immediately. Instead, he observed them carefully, like he was reading something important—tracing the pattern with his eyes as if piecing together a puzzle only he could solve.

"Scars are... interesting things," he murmured, voice softer now. "They are proof of endurance. Evidence that pain was felt, yet you remained."

You swallowed thickly. "That’s one way to put it."

His gaze lifted to yours, and for the first time, you caught something in his expression—understanding.

Slowly, Viktor shifted, rolling up the fabric over his own leg. The scars along his knee and shin were different—ones born of overuse, surgeries, the toll of time—but they were scars nonetheless.

"People see these and assume they know my story," he said, tilting his leg slightly. "They assume pity is required. That weakness is present." His golden eyes flickered back to you. "But we are not weak, are we?"

Something tightened in your chest. "No," you said softly. "We’re not."

Viktor studied you for a moment longer before, carefully, he reached out. His fingers hovered over your thigh—giving you space to pull away.

You didn’t.

His touch was light, barely there, but warm nonetheless. "Your scars do not lessen you," he murmured. "They do not take away from who you are. They are merely a part of your story. And if anyone tells you otherwise..." He huffed a small breath, a ghost of amusement in his voice. "Well, they are simply not as intelligent as I am."

A small, breathy laugh left your lips despite yourself. "Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?*"

Viktor smirked faintly, withdrawing his hand only to tap lightly at his temple. "Genius, remember?"

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered.

And for the first time in a long time, the scars didn’t feel like something to hide.

------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn kiramman.

It had been a long day of patrolling the streets, and Caitlyn had returned to her estate looking exhausted. The moment she stepped through the door, she was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace and the soft hum of the house’s familiar sounds. It felt like a reprieve from the intensity of the day.

You were already curled up on the couch, a book in your hands, though your mind was elsewhere. Caitlyn’s presence always brought a sense of calm, but today, there was an unease you couldn’t shake.

As Caitlyn removed her coat and began to relax, she noticed you glancing at your legs, the slight fidgeting of your hand around the hem of your pants. She’d learned to read you like a book, noticing the smallest shifts in your behavior. Something was off, but she wasn’t sure what.

She walked over to you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder, her voice calm but insistent. "What’s going on, darling?"

You hesitated for a moment before you replied, your voice quieter than usual. "It's nothing, just... been thinking."

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she perched herself on the armrest, her gaze never leaving yours. "About what?"

You sighed, feeling the weight of her gaze press on you. It was a warmth that made it hard to hide things from her. Slowly, you moved to pull your pants up slightly, revealing the scars on your thigh—old, deep burn marks that you had long since grown used to but never really let anyone see.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, and her hand instinctively reached for yours, her thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. "You’ve never mentioned these before..."

You swallowed, not wanting to look at her, but you couldn’t help it. "They’re just scars, Cait. They don’t mean anything."

She tilted her head, clearly not convinced. "I don’t believe that for a second." Her voice softened, and she slowly knelt down beside you, her fingers brushing the skin around the scars with tenderness, her touch barely grazing you as if you were something fragile. "Scars tell stories, but they don’t define you. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. It wasn’t the first time Caitlyn had said something so reassuring, but it was the first time it felt like she truly meant it. The quiet compassion in her voice was enough to make you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"You don’t have to hide them," Caitlyn continued, her gaze meeting yours with gentle intensity. "You don’t have to hide anything from me, ever."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to seem weak. But Caitlyn, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in you. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone," she murmured against your hair. "I’m here, always."

You allowed yourself to lean into her, the warmth of her embrace easing the tension in your chest. The touch of her fingers against the scars felt like a promise, a silent vow that no matter what had happened before, no matter how you felt about those marks on your skin, Caitlyn would always see you for who you were—not for the pain you’d been through, but for the person you had become.

"I’ll always be here," Caitlyn whispered again, her voice low and steady. "And I love you, scars and all."

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you let yourself melt into her arms, the comfort of her presence washing over you. For the first time in a long while, the scars on your body didn’t feel like something to be hidden. With Caitlyn, they simply became another part of the story, and it was a story you were no longer afraid to share.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vi.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind the smell of damp concrete and rust in the air. Vi kicked off her boots as she stepped into your shared apartment, shaking the water from her hair with a tired groan.

"That was a hell of a patrol," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck before flashing you a lopsided grin. "Miss me?"

You looked up from the couch, giving her a small smile. "Always."

Vi plopped down beside you, tossing an arm over your shoulder with easy affection. "What’s up, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet."

You hesitated, shifting slightly, but Vi felt the tension immediately. She leaned back, studying your face, and her playful grin softened.

"Talk to me," she coaxed, voice dipping into something more gentle. "Something’s on your mind."

You sighed, glancing away. "It’s stupid."

Vi gave you a pointed look. "Babe, you know I don’t do ‘stupid’ when it comes to you. Spill it."

You hesitated before slowly rolling up the hem of your shorts, exposing the burn scars on the back of your thigh. You felt Vi go still beside you. Her usual warmth, her teasing nature, all of it quieted in an instant.

You braced yourself for some kind of pitying response, for words you didn’t want to hear. Instead, Vi’s fingers brushed over your skin—rough, calloused hands moving with the gentlest touch.

"How long have you had these?" she asked, her voice unreadable.

"For a while," you admitted. "I just… don’t really show them to people."

Vi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edges of the scars, slow and deliberate. You could feel her exhale against your shoulder before she finally spoke.

"You know," she murmured, "scars tell me more about a person than their words ever could."

You huffed out a dry laugh. "Yeah? And what do these tell you?"

Vi smirked, but there was something softer behind it, something careful. "That you’re tough as hell. That you’ve been through shit and still came out standing."

You swallowed hard, something twisting deep in your chest. "I don’t always feel tough."

Vi shifted closer, pressing her forehead lightly against yours. "That’s ‘cause you don’t see yourself the way I do." Her hand curled around your thigh, grounding, steady. "But I see you. Every single part of you."*

Your breath hitched when she leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss over one of the scars. Then another. And another.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as she whispered, "You’re beautiful, scars and all."

---------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

Jinx was never good at staying still. Even now, as she lay sprawled across your lap, she fidgeted—twirling a wrench in one hand while her other absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm.

"You’re awfully quiet today, sugar," she mused, tilting her head up to peer at you. "Not planning to ditch me for some boring, normal life, are ya?"

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "Nah, just thinking."

Jinx flipped onto her stomach, resting her chin against your thigh. "Ugh, thinking’s overrated. What’s got you so—" Her words trailed off as her gaze flickered lower, landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

For once, Jinx went completely still. No jokes, no teasing—just silence. You knew she’d seen them before in flashes, but you had never sat down and talked about them. And Jinx? She never pried.

Until now.

"Where’d ya get these?" Her voice wasn’t mocking, wasn’t playful. Just quiet.

You shrugged, trying to pull your leg away, but she caught your knee, holding you in place. "They don’t matter."

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Kinda seem like they do, since you never let me see ‘em."*

You exhaled sharply, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. "I just… don’t like how they look. It’s not a big deal, Jinx."*

"Uh, yeah it is."

She sat up abruptly, straddling your lap, and before you could react, she reached for a marker off the table. With an impish grin, she clicked it open and began doodling over your scars.

"What are you doing?" you asked, baffled.

"Making ‘em cooler," she replied, sticking her tongue out in concentration. "I mean, these could totally be lightning bolts—oh! Or flames. Hell, we could even add little skulls, make it look all badass, like, ‘yeah, I survived a hellstorm, what of it?’"

Despite yourself, you laughed. "Jinx—"

"Shh, shh, artistic genius at work," she interrupted, tapping your nose with the marker.

You shook your head, but you didn’t stop her. Her focus shifted as she ran a gloved hand down your thigh, fingertips barely grazing over the scarred skin.

Then, softer, she murmured, "Does it still hurt?"

Your chest tightened. "Not physically."

Jinx hummed, twirling the marker between her fingers. "Yeah… I get that."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the city outside. Then Jinx leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of the scars, quick but sincere.

"There. Now it’s magic. You’re stuck with me forever."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter. "Is that how magic works?"

"Duh." She kissed another one, then another, grinning against your skin. "You’re mine, and I’m yours. No stupid scars change that."

You reached up, brushing her cheek. "You’re a menace, you know that?"

Jinx beamed. "And you love it."

And yeah. You did.

------------------------------------------------

Ekko.

The Firelights’ hideout was quieter than usual tonight. Most of the crew had already turned in, leaving just you and Ekko sitting on the worn-out couch, the soft hum of old music crackling from a beat-up radio.

Ekko had his legs stretched out, arms draped behind his head, watching you with that easygoing gaze of his. "You’ve been weird today," he finally said. "What’s up?"

You hesitated, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts. "It’s nothing."

Ekko arched a brow. "Right. And I’m Councilor Jayce Talis."

You huffed a laugh, but it quickly faded as you shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep your legs tucked beneath you. Unfortunately, Ekko was too damn observant for his own good. His eyes flickered downward, catching the movement—then landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

His expression faltered. "Yo... what happened?"

"It’s nothing," you said quickly, shifting to pull your legs away, but Ekko reached out, stopping you with a hand on your knee.

"Nah. Don’t do that." His voice was gentle but firm. "You always let me ramble about my scars. What makes yours different?"

You swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "Because they’re ugly."

Ekko frowned. "Ugly?"

"Yeah." You exhaled sharply. "People stare. Whisper. It just… reminds me of shit I don’t wanna think about."

Ekko was quiet for a moment. Then, without warning, he shifted, adjusting his weight until he was kneeling in front of you, his hands braced on either side of your legs.

"Look at me," he said softly.

You hesitated before finally meeting his gaze. His eyes weren’t filled with pity. No forced reassurances. Just raw, quiet understanding.

"You know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured. "Somebody strong enough to still be here. Somebody who’s been through hell and didn’t let it break ‘em."

His fingers traced feather-light over the scars—not afraid to touch, but careful, like he was memorizing them. "You think these make you ugly? Nah. They just prove that you survived something meant to take you out. That’s powerful."

Your throat tightened. "I don’t always feel powerful."

Ekko huffed out a small smile, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss against one of the scars. "Then let me remind you."

Another kiss. And another. His lips were warm, grounding, a silent promise in every touch. You closed your eyes, exhaling as you let yourself lean into his presence.

"You’re still you," he murmured against your skin. "Scars don’t change that. They never will."

------------------------------------------------

I must apologize to all of you because of such a delay I have been dealing with alot lately and also last year of highschool so much Happening BUT PUSHING THROUGH please send requests tho! I LOVEEE em!

arcane characters x fem reader! in a fantasy au

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: yo, just had the BEST time writing this! felt like i was in my element, total geek vibes. i'm all about that fantasy stuff, and i think i nailed every character. maybe we’ll do more parts of this, but y’all gotta let me know if you’re down! as you already know request are open ;)

viktor as a cursed sorcerer!

The tower stands in the middle of nowhere, an ancient and somber structure, surrounded by an unsettling silence. The full moon bathes its gray stone in an ethereal light, as if the very sky itself fears coming too close. You know you shouldn’t be here, but the urge to uncover the secrets this fortress holds has led you to its doors. The mission is clear: steal a single object, a forbidden grimoire, and escape before the sorcerer notices.

Your footsteps echo against the walls of the tower as you venture into its dark corridors. Every corner is filled with ancient books, bubbling vials of mysterious liquids, and artifacts that seem to radiate an arcane energy beyond comprehension. The air, thick with magic, wraps around you like a second skin, making you feel both small and infinitely connected to something greater. A soft sigh escapes your lips, a shiver runs down your spine. The tower itself feels alive—breathing, watching.

At the highest point, in what seems to be a laboratory where the darkest secrets are woven, you find what you were searching for: an ancient grimoire, bound in black leather with golden symbols that faintly glow in the dim light. You take it with trembling hands, knowing that with it, your fate is sealed. But before you can take a single step toward the exit, the air grows heavy with dark energy, and the room’s light seems to fade.

A whisper, soft as a sigh, echoes through the chamber. A deep resonance that reaches the most hidden parts of your being. The sorcerer is near.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice is deep, rasping, filled with an authority that makes your skin prickle. You cannot see his face, but the pressure in the air tells you he is watching you with an intensity that makes you feel utterly exposed.

You turn, and there he stands. His figure is outlined in the gloom like an eternal shadow, a being that seems to exist beyond death. His skin, pale as the moon, is almost translucent, and his golden eyes glow with an intensity that pierces through your soul. Viktor—the cursed sorcerer, the lich who has sacrificed his humanity in pursuit of a power that not even the gods can comprehend.

“What brings you to my domain, intruder?” His voice slithers toward you, a cold whisper that cuts through you like a dagger. “Do you not know that everything has a price? Curiosity, greed… and now, your soul.”

But you do not step back. You are not afraid, not even as you feel the dark magic coiling in the air, making it difficult to breathe. Instead of fleeing, you stand your ground, holding the grimoire in your hands as a silent declaration of your defiance. You know what he has done, what he is, and yet, something inside you tells you that perhaps this being, who has forsaken life itself, can teach you more than you ever imagined.

“I am a scholar,” you answer, your words firm despite the slight tremor in your voice. “I came to learn, not to steal.”

Viktor watches you in silence, his golden eyes gleaming with an eerie light. A flicker of interest crosses his gaze, and for a moment, he forgets his own power. There is something about you that intrigues him, something even he cannot explain. In that instant, the tension between you shifts, as if the universe itself had decided to intertwine your fates in a way neither of you can comprehend.

“To learn?” The word leaves his lips with a mocking edge. “What do you think you can learn from a being like me? A mere mortal who is not even fortunate enough to still be among the living?”

His words strike your chest like a blow, but you do not falter. Instead, you step closer to him, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.

“Perhaps I will learn what lies beneath your power,” you say, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. “Perhaps what you have sacrificed… was not what you thought.”

The sorcerer seems frozen in time, his glowing eyes flickering with something that is neither anger nor disdain, but something far more dangerous… desire? For a brief second, the hollow space within his chest seems to pulse—a heartbeat long forgotten, one that calls to you like a leaf caught in a current.

“Do you know what it means to renounce your humanity?” Viktor’s voice is softer now, almost vulnerable. “Do you know what it is to exist like this? Without a soul, without emotion, without love… all for power.”

His words resonate within you. You know he has paid a price, but at the same time, something in his eyes tells you that not all is lost—that somewhere, deep within him, something still lingers.

“No,” you whisper. “But I do know what it is to lose oneself. And I know that what we have lost does not have to define us. Perhaps there is still something you can reclaim.”

Viktor remains silent, and for a moment, the dark magic around him dims, as if, just for a second, he wants to believe in your words. The connection between you is intangible, like a breeze that travels the space between two lonely souls, each trapped in their own prison.

You take another step closer, your fingers grazing the surface of the grimoire you still clutch. Viktor watches every movement, and for the first time, you see something in his eyes—something that is not malice, but a profound sadness, a distant longing.

“And if I let you go,” he says quietly, his words laced with bittersweet tenderness, “what will you do with your life, scholar? Will you continue seeking what others have forgotten, or…?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, almost in a whisper, but there is something in your voice that speaks louder than any words. “But if you let me go, I will find a purpose. I always do. And maybe… you can, too.”

The magic in the tower seems to shift, as if a door has opened—not to a future you fear, but to one you might walk together. Despite his curse, despite his nature, Viktor feels as though he has found something in you that makes him question his fate. And you, in that same moment, realize that you have not only found what you came for, but something far more important: someone who, though cursed, is still capable of love.

You both know it is dangerous. You both know that the dark magic surrounding him could consume everything. But there is something else, something beyond death itself. Something only the two of you can understand.

The silence between you is thick, charged with the electricity of the forbidden. Viktor watches you as if you are an impossible riddle, as if your mere presence in his tower threatens to unravel centuries of solitude and absolute knowledge. For years—decades—he has mastered dark magic, crossed the limits of life and death, but he never anticipated this. He never imagined that a mere human could disrupt his world with nothing but words.

“You are strange, scholar.” His voice is a murmur, a confession carried by the spectral wind that haunts the tower. “You are not like the others. You do not tremble before my power, nor flee from what I am.”

You take another step closer, your fingers brushing the cold marble of the table between you, the grimoire still in your hands.

“Perhaps it’s because I see beyond what you are now.” Your voice is soft yet firm. “I see what you were. What you could be.”

Viktor lets out a low, bitter laugh.

“A condemned man. A soul that ceased to exist the moment I sealed my fate.”

You take a breath and dare to look directly into his eyes—those golden depths glowing with an unnatural light. Despite his curse, there is something human in them, a distant echo of the man he once was.

“I don’t believe you ever ceased to exist.” You clutch the grimoire to your chest. “If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

His expression hardens—not with anger, but with something far more dangerous. Vulnerability.

The magic in the tower hums, expectant. And then, Viktor speaks.

“Very well,” he murmurs. “You may stay.”

But as he looks at you, his gaze burning into your soul, he gives you one final warning.

“Knowledge comes at a price. And in my world… love is the greatest curse of all.”

And yet, you do not turn back.

Because even in the deepest darkness, love still lingers.

Even if it means being damned along with him.

And so, in the shadows of the forbidden tower, begins the story that was never meant to be told.

jinx as a banshee!

The mist clings to the ground like a shroud, wrapping the cursed village in an icy embrace. The air is saturated with whispers, spectral laments that slip between the abandoned houses, carried by the nocturnal wind.

And then, the laughter echoes.

A sharp, mocking sound, distorted by death itself.

Your skin prickles, but not from fear. The first time you heard it, you thought it was a bad omen. That the villagers were right to warn you about the banshee that roamed the town, announcing death with her song. But over time, you began to seek that sound, to long for the moment when her voice would tear through the stillness. Because behind that ghostly echo, there was something more. Something that called to you.

And tonight, she has come for you.

The air turns frigid in an instant, and when you blink, Jinx is there. Suspended in the air, as if the wind itself cradled her in its arms. Her skin is pale as alabaster, her blue hair floating around her like ethereal flames. Her eyes glow with an otherworldly light, but what captivates you most is her smile—tilted, playful, with a touch of madness and melancholy woven together.

"Found you." Her voice is a seductive murmur, gliding through the air like a thread of silver.

You don’t scream. You don’t run. You only watch her, fascinated.

She tilts her head, circling you slowly, as if evaluating a new toy. "You know, most people scream when they see me." Her icy fingers brush against your cheek, sending a shiver through you, but you don’t pull away. Jinx narrows her eyes, amused. "But you don’t. Why?"

Because you don’t fear her. Because death has never scared you. Because, somehow, she doesn’t feel like a harbinger of doom, but like a mystery you want to unravel.

"Because you don’t seem as terrifying as they say."

Jinx’s laughter vibrates in the air, a melody both inhuman and enchanting, twisting between the real and the spectral. "Oh, sweetheart… that’s a mistake."

Suddenly, the world shifts.

The village distorts, buildings contorting, shadows coming to life. You’re somewhere else now—a realm between life and death, where colors are too vivid, where the ground beneath your feet feels unreal. Spirits drift around you, translucent figures who weep and laugh, trapped in an endless cycle.

Jinx watches you with delight. "Welcome to my world."

Your breath catches. You don’t know if it’s terror or wonder that fills you, but Jinx steps closer, her cold hands holding you with an unsettling gentleness. "Aren’t you scared?" she whispers, her lips inches from yours, her laughter dancing in the air.

You don’t answer. Because the truth is, you are. But not in the way you should be.

You’re afraid you won’t be able to walk away from her.

You’re afraid you won’t want to.

Jinx smiles, as if she can read your thoughts. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if you’re walking on the breath of a dream that could vanish at any moment. You’re in Jinx’s world now, a dimension suspended between life and death, where the lights flicker like ghostly fireflies and the sky is an endless stretch of shadows entwined with blue glimmers.

The banshee moves with eerie lightness, her feet barely touching the ground as she twirls, radiating the capricious joy of someone who has long forgotten what it means to be human. Her laughter rings through the air, a melody that dances between beauty and terror.

"So, little adventurer," she murmurs, watching you with those eyes that burn like blue fire, "what’s your story?"

Her voice reverberates through the corners of this spectral realm, as if each word leaves a scar in the air itself.

"My story..." you repeat, trying to grasp onto something tangible while your mind struggles to understand where you truly are. "I don’t know. I don’t think it matters here."

Jinx stops. Her expression softens for a moment, as if she’s found something unexpected in your answer. "Exactly," she whispers, almost like a secret shared between you. "Here, nothing matters. Not time, not names, not even memories."

She extends a hand, and without thinking, you take it. Her touch is frigid, as if death itself dances on her skin. But her grip is firm, so real that you can almost convince yourself you still belong to the world of the living.

"Come, I want to show you something."

You follow. Not because you trust her, but because the pull of her presence is impossible to resist.

She leads you through a forest of barren trees, their branches twisting in the air like skeletal fingers. Tiny lights float between them—souls trapped in the border between worlds. Some whisper in barely audible sobs, others laugh with a hysteria that chills the blood. Jinx ignores them.

Finally, you reach a clearing where an ancient fountain stands at the center. Its water is not water, but a swirling mist of silver that churns endlessly. Jinx lets go of your hand and sits at the fountain’s edge, swinging her legs with the careless joy of a mischievous child.

"This is my favorite spot," she says. "It’s where I can hear the voices of those about to die."

Your stomach tightens. "You hear them?"

She nods, and for the first time, the laughter fades from her face. There’s something melancholic in her expression, a weight you hadn’t noticed before. "Always. Every time someone is about to cross over, their last words drift here. Sometimes they’re broken promises. Sometimes regrets. Other times..." She pauses, staring at the mist with a sorrow that surprises you. "Other times, they’re just a sigh."

The silence between you is heavy.

You kneel beside her, feeling the cold radiating from the fountain. "It must be exhausting to hear that all the time."

Jinx looks at you, and for the first time, there’s no mockery in her eyes. Only something that resembles vulnerability.

"No one ever says that."

Your heart pounds harder. You don’t know if it’s from fear or from the strange tenderness you’ve just discovered in the creature before you.

Jinx leans closer, her smile returning, though softer this time. "You know, I like you," she murmurs, her fingers brushing your wrist with the delicate touch of a breath of wind. "Maybe I’ll let you stay a little longer."

You don’t know if that’s a reward or a curse. But when she intertwines her fingers with yours and the world around you seems to grow more vibrant, you realize you’re already trapped.

Not in her world.

In her.

vi as a werewolf!

The moon hangs in the sky like a watchful eye, spilling its pale light over the forest. Mist swirls between the tall, gnarled trunks, filling the air with the scent of damp earth and the whisper of rustling leaves.

You shouldn’t be here.

The stories about this forest are not mere superstitions; every villager who has crossed the border of these trees has vanished without a trace.

But fate, cruel and capricious, has drawn a different path for you.

A howl tears through the night before scarlet eyes emerge from the undergrowth. There are many of them. Shadows within shadows, stalking with a silent ferocity that makes your skin prickle. Your heart hammers in your chest as a deep growl rises to your right, and before you can even think of running, something strikes you.

The world tilts, and you fall onto the cold grass. An overwhelming weight pins you down, and when you look up, you meet a pair of impossibly pink eyes glowing in the darkness.

Her face is mere inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin, but what truly sends a shiver down your spine is the intensity in her gaze. It’s not just the fierceness of a hunter—it’s something deeper, something primal. Something that doesn’t understand why she hasn’t killed you yet.

“Who are you?” Her voice is a low growl, threatening.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to find your voice. “Just… a traveler.”

Vi narrows her eyes, her fingers pressing your wrists harder against the ground. Her grip is firm, but not crushing. There is control in her strength, yet also a subtle tremor, as if she’s holding back.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

The pack moves around her, wolves with dark fur and glowing eyes watching the scene with anticipation. Vi is their leader, and they await her decision. But she remains still, looming over you, her breath heavy, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.

Finally, after a long, tense silence, she jumps back.

“Lock her up.”

The wooden cage is stronger than it looks, reinforced with claws and teeth of creatures that once dared to challenge the pack. Hours pass slowly, and the feeling of being watched never fades. Vi hasn’t returned since you were thrown in here, but her presence lingers in the air like a storm waiting to break.

When she finally appears, the moon is high in the sky. She no longer carries the form of the beast, yet you can still see it in the way she moves, in the way her eyes never blink as she watches you.

“I should have killed you,” she says bluntly.

“Why didn’t you?”

Vi remains silent. Then, with calculated slowness, she steps closer to the cage, wrapping her fingers around the bars. You can see the tension in her hands, the muscles in her arms tightening with restrained strength.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits.

She doesn’t know, but you do. You saw it in her eyes, in the way her wolf fought against its instinct to tear out your throat. There is something holding her back. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Fate.

The word hangs in the air, unspoken yet ever-present.

She feels it, just as you do.

You know what it means to werewolves. An unbreakable bond. A tie forged by the moon itself. If what Vi feels is real, then she is trapped in an impossible dilemma.

Kill you. Or claim you.

The thought sends a shiver down your spine. And yet, a part of you wonders… what would you choose?

And the next full moon will decide the rest.

caitlyn as a vampire!

The night in the Ravencourt mountains was an icy whisper among the dead trees. The castle loomed over the mist like a stone sepulcher, its gothic towers cutting against the pale moon. The stories spoke of a monster dwelling within—a creature with sharp fangs and eyes that gleamed like sapphires in the gloom.

And you had come to kill her.

Your footsteps echoed through the silent halls, the shadows stretching like spectral fingers as your hand clutched the hilt of your silver dagger. The air smelled of melted wax and aged wine, but beneath it… blood.

You were not alone.

"How disappointing," the voice reached you before the figure did. "I was expecting something more… imposing."

You spun in an instant, your dagger poised to strike. But Caitlyn didn’t move. She was leaning against the stone wall with the elegance of someone who had centuries to perfect arrogance. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light—cold, calculating, yet laced with amusement.

"A monster hunter, sent to kill me. How ironic."

"You’re no different from the other vampires I’ve slain," you spat.

Caitlyn smiled, her fangs glinting under the moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows. "Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong."

In a blink, she was no longer against the wall. She moved faster than you could react, and suddenly, your back collided with a marble pillar. Her face was mere inches from yours, her breath as cold as the night wind.

"If I were like them," she murmured, her fingers grazing the line of your jaw, "you’d already be dead."

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Don’t play with me," you warned, trying to ignore the shiver running down your spine.

Caitlyn tilted her head, her lips dangerously close to your neck. She didn’t press down, didn’t bite. She merely let the moment stretch, let the tension weave between you like an invisible thread.

"Play?" she whispered. "Darling, if I were playing… you would have already lost."

Her voice was like dark silk, like the caress of the night itself.

And the worst part… was that she was right.

She didn’t kill you that night.

Instead, she let you go, with a challenge on her lips and a promise in her gaze. You returned to the castle, night after night, searching for reasons to hate her, to convince yourself that she was no different from the monsters you had hunted before.

But every time she found you in the shadows, every time she saved you from something worse than her, every time her smile curled with that exquisite taunt… the certainty inside you crumbled a little more.

Caitlyn played with limits, with the space between desire and danger, between the hunt and surrender.

And you didn’t know how much longer you could resist.

jayce as an elf prince!

The Kingdom of Eldareth was a dream carved in light and sculpted in gold. Its crystal towers rose toward the sky, capturing the sun’s rays in an ethereal glow. The forests whispered with ancient magic, and the rivers sang songs only the elves could understand. Here, everything seemed unchanging, eternal. Here, the ephemeral had no place.

That was why, when you set foot in the court of the crown prince, you immediately felt the weight of the gazes upon you. A human in the heart of the elven kingdom. A foreigner in a land where perfection was the norm.

And no gaze was more intense than that of Jayce Talandriel, the golden prince.

From the moment you were introduced as his escort, he regarded you with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

"A human protecting me?" His tone was a blade wrapped in velvet. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"If it is, Your Highness," you replied with a mocking bow, "I hope you find it amusing."

The court held its breath. Jayce raised an eyebrow.

From that day on, your relationship became a battle of wills.

He tested your patience with comments about "human clumsiness." You proved to him, with every training session, that you could disarm him in seconds. You argued daily, clashed like summer storms, and yet…

When he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes followed you.

When night fell and the kingdom was draped in its mantle of stars, he took you to places where magic flowed purest. He showed you trees whose leaves glowed like fireflies, rivers where creatures of light swam, ruins where time stood still.

"I’ve never brought anyone here before," he murmured once, leaning against an ancient silver-barked oak.

"Not even some noble elf you’re destined to marry?" you asked with a teasing smile.

He let out a soft laugh but didn’t deny it. His world already had a predetermined path. And you were not part of it.

But then, one night, as the moon bathed the fields in a melancholic blue, you felt his hand on yours. A light touch, barely a graze, as if the difference between you could crumble with a single gesture.

"If things were different…" he began, but let the sentence drift into the wind.

Because things were not different.

You were a human warrior, born to fight and move on.

He was an elven prince, born to stay and rule.

But for a fleeting second, as his breath brushed against your lips and the world seemed to hold its breath… none of that mattered.

You could feel the magic in the air, vibrating between you. The same magic that flowed through his veins, the same magic that separated his world from yours. You weren’t blind to reality. You knew that an elf like Jayce had his destiny set from the moment he was born, his ties to the royal family bound by ancient pacts that ensured the kingdom’s balance.

And yet, you did not step back.

"You are the crown prince," you said softly, the whisper of leaves carrying your words. "And I am just a passing human. What’s the point of imagining things could be different?"

Jayce clenched his jaw, as if the truth tasted bitter. "You are more than that."

The echo of his confession lingered between you. And for the first time, after all the arguments, all the clashes, all the defiant glances… you didn’t know what to say.

ekko as a wayward fairy!

The forest had no end.

Each tree seemed to reflect upon the next, as if the whole world repeated itself in an endless cycle. The shadows stretched and shrank with every step, and the whisper of the wind carried laughter. Childish, mocking laughter that bounced between the leaves like tiny bells shaken by invisible fingers.

You stopped, your breath caught in your chest, feeling the weight of magic pressing against your skin. You were not alone.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

His voice was a playful murmur, barely a caress in the air. Then, a presence appeared above you: a young man with bright eyes and translucent wings that reflected the moonlight in shades of gold and emerald. He was floating upside down, elbows resting on the air as if it were his own throne.

“Let me guess,” he said with a crooked smile. “You’re lost.”

You didn’t answer immediately. It was hard to tell if he was real or just another illusion of the forest.

Ekko snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the moon multiplied in the sky. Five, ten moons twinkled above you, each spinning in opposite directions. You blinked, stunned, and when you looked again, reality had returned to normal.

“Well, well, seems like you're more resilient than I thought.”

He landed softly in front of you, tilting his head in curiosity. Though his expression was mischievous, his eyes held a glimmer that wasn’t entirely joyful.

“Listen, little human,” he began, circling around you. “This forest is no place for your kind. Time here is… fickle. A day, a decade, a whole lifetime… who’s to say how long you’ve been wandering?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m looking for the way out.”

Ekko smirked. “Of course you are. Everyone does.”

He stopped in front of you, and for a moment, his gaze seemed to darken. But then, his smile returned, and a spark flashed in his eyes as he took a step back.

“I’ll make you an offer, human,” he said, spreading his arms. “Let’s play a game.”

The word floated between you, light yet charged with meaning.

“A game…?”

“A game,” he repeated, spinning in the air with the ease of someone unbound by time. “Follow my lead, do as I do. If you catch up to me, I’ll guide you out of the forest. If you don’t…” His smile widened, revealing sharp teeth. “Then you’ll be mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Mine forever.”

The night breeze whistled through the trees, carrying his last words like an echo.

You knew you had no other choice.

“Alright,” you said, lifting your chin. “I accept.”

Ekko snapped his fingers, and the forest came alive.

The game began with a chase.

Ekko weaved through the shadows, vanishing and reappearing between the trunks as if time itself bent to his will. Roots tried to snare you, bushes turned into walls, and the fairy’s laughter filled the air, mocking your every stumble.

“Is that all?” his voice echoed behind you, yet when you turned, he was already gone.

You ran faster. You leaped over a stream that hadn’t been there a second before, dodged branches that seemed to move on their own. Your breath burned in your lungs, but you refused to give up.

Then, without warning, Ekko stopped in front of you.

You crashed into his chest.

He didn’t move. His hands closed around your arms with an unexpected gentleness, keeping you from falling.

“You’ve got guts, human.”

His voice wasn’t just teasing anymore.

The forest lights flickered. In that instant, with his dark eyes locked onto yours at such a close distance, you saw past the mask of mischief.

Something inside him was broken.

“Why do you live here alone?” you asked, your voice still unsteady from the chase.

Ekko didn’t answer right away.

For the first time since you met him, his smile faded completely.

But then, with a flicker of magic, he disappeared once more, his laughter scattering into the air like the wind of an endless night.

The game was not over yet.

Ekko’s laughter still lingered in the air, playful and ethereal, as if the forest itself fed on his mischief. “Are you still looking for a way out?” his voice resonated through the mist, wrapping around you like a whisper in the dark.

The feeling of being lost became more and more tangible, as if time itself were dancing around you. You walked blindly, heart racing, mind clouded. The forest shifted with every step, every direction you took leading you somewhere new without any logical order. It was as if the world you knew was unraveling around you, a dream beyond your control.

Suddenly, the mist began to clear, revealing a glade illuminated by thousands of golden fireflies. The air was thick with the sweet, strange scent of night-blooming flowers, and in the center of the clearing, Ekko was waiting, seated with an amused smile on his face. His eyes glowed with a spark of mischief, and his presence felt like a beacon in the darkness of the enchanted forest.

“You took your time, human,” he said, his tone relaxed but with a hint of challenge. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to keep up with my games.”

You stepped closer, trying to keep your composure, but you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering on him, trapped by a strange fascination. “I thought you only liked playing. I didn’t know you actually wanted me to win.”

Ekko stood up slowly, his luminous figure like a dancing shadow among the fireflies. He moved toward you, and for a moment, his laughter faded, leaving behind a heavy silence. “What I want isn’t always what it seems,” he said, his voice softer, more serious. “And what seems like a game can have greater consequences than you imagine.”

The air around him thickened, growing heavier with each second. Something in his expression had shifted, shedding the carefree amusement to reveal a hint of sadness. It seemed that Ekko, the mischievous fairy, carried something inside him—something darker and more sorrowful than his playful facade.

“What’s wrong, Ekko?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, realizing that all this time, he hadn’t just tested you with his magic and illusions—he had shown you a part of himself no one else had seen. “What are you hiding?”

A sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment, his expression softened. “Time isn’t just a game to me, human. It’s a cycle that never ends, a prison that drags me along without mercy. I’ve been trapped here in this forest longer than you can imagine, but in you… I see something different. Something that might change everything.”

Suddenly, everything made sense. The forest, the time, the illusions… everything was designed to keep him captive. And you, caught in his game, had become something more than just a challenge. Without knowing it, you had become the key that might free Ekko from his eternal torment.

“If I stay here, what will happen?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Would you become just another part of his cruel curse? Or perhaps… could you be his only way out?

Ekko stared at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. “If you stay, you’ll lose your way. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll find it in me.”

Seconds stretched like hours. You knew that if you took this path, everything would change. But as you looked at him—so vulnerable, yet so full of magic—you felt something inside your heart begin to waver.

“And if I accept your challenge?” you said, a hint of a smile forming. “What happens if I stay?”

“Then, you’ll be mine,” Ekko replied, his voice as soft as a spell already cast. But in his eyes, there was something more—something that spoke of hope, not just possession.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the feeling that time no longer mattered.

And so, in the magic of the forest and the echo of his laughter, the two of you became something more than lost souls—something fleeting, yet eternal.

silco as a demon!

A red glow began to fill the room, as if the very air was burning. You had made a mistake—one you could not take back. The summoning had been a desperate attempt, a last resort to obtain something you couldn’t get by any other means. But now, before you, stood him.

The air grew dense, heavy, as if the darkness itself was swallowing the light around you. Silco emerged from the shadows, his presence so powerful that the ground beneath your feet seemed to tremble. A demon, yes—but not just any demon. He was temptation incarnate, a master in the art of making people surrender to their darkest desires.

His voice was low, deep, like a whisper that seemed to speak directly into your mind, filling you with thoughts you weren’t sure were yours or his.

"What is it that you desire, human?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and something far more dangerous. "Because you already know—I offer nothing without expecting something in return."

You tried to keep your composure, though your heart was racing. Every instinct within you screamed to run, to forget this and leave. But an inexplicable force kept you rooted to the spot, trapped by the way his eyes—dark as the night itself—bored into you, piercing through every layer of your being. His gaze was intense, relentless, as if he could see straight into your soul.

"I offer you what you crave the most," he said, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate movements, like a predator closing in on its prey. "The opportunity for more power, more wealth, more… everything you could ever imagine. But—there is a price. There is always a price."

The temptation in his words was undeniable, and you knew you were about to make a choice that would change everything. Silco—the demon who trades in souls—was offering you something only he could grant. The promise of everything you desired, but at what cost? Your soul? Your freedom? Or something far more sinister?

"What I want…" your words were barely a whisper, trembling beneath the weight of his gaze. "What I want is… time."

A slow, wicked smile curled on his lips—one devoid of kindness. "Time… A very rare gift. And one that I can give you." He took another step forward, and at once, you felt the heat radiating from him. "But like any gift, it comes at a price."

He was too close now, and your breath hitched. The temperature in the room had risen noticeably, the air around you burning with an almost tangible intensity. Silco was a man of few words, but the ones he spoke were like spells—deeply seductive, impossible to ignore.

His face was inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin, his presence wrapping around you like a shadow from which there was no escape.

"Accept my offer, and you shall have what you desire. But I know you won’t do so without hesitation, without doubt…"

The tension between you was palpable, electric, and something inside you was beginning to waver. Part of you wanted to flee, to escape whatever was happening—but another, much stronger part, wanted to know just how far this dangerous seduction could go. The power, the risk, the thrill—it was a game, one you were already ensnared in.

Silco, as if reading your thoughts, smirked again. His face drew even closer, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise.

"All I require, dear one, is that you surrender to me. Not now, not all at once—but little by little, with every encounter. And when the time comes, there will be no turning back."

The pulse in your veins pounded wildly, and a realization dawned upon you—whether you said no or not, you were already caught in his web. Every word, every glance, every movement was designed to erode your resistance. You had been invaded, ensnared by something far greater than yourself, and you knew that nothing would be the same after this moment.

"And if I refuse to surrender so easily?" you asked, challenging the imminent danger looming over you. But his low, dangerous laughter was answer enough.

"You’ll know when the time comes, human. There is no resisting what I offer. Because I am not just a demon… I am the only one who can give you everything you desire."

The pressure in your chest became unbearable, the air itself suffocating. The seduction in his words was too strong to ignore. You could feel the desire, the temptation surrounding you, wrapping you in an inescapable darkness.

Silco leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. His voice was a whisper in your ear.

"I am giving you an opportunity, human. A chance to claim what you want most. But be warned…"

"Because you won’t always know when you’ll give in. You won’t always know when you’ll be mine."

And in that precise moment, you knew—the fate awaiting you was inevitable. Dark, consuming, and utterly irresistible.

mel as a mermaid!

The storm had lashed the sea with fury, leaving in its wake a chaos of raging waves and skies riddled with lightning. The shipwreck had been inevitable, and when the waters finally calmed, the darkness that preceded the stillness seemed denser, deeper. The last thing you remembered was the sensation of sinking, the water filling your lungs, and then… nothingness.

You awoke, enveloped in a gentle current, but instead of the roaring sea and the deadly cold of the waters, the temperature was warm, embracing. Opening your eyes, you found yourself underwater, floating like a specter in an expanse of blues and greens. It was not the darkness you knew, but a golden light that seemed to come from everywhere. At first, you thought you were trapped in a dream, or perhaps death had taken you beyond, but the air, the softness of the current… no, it was not a dream.

The sight before you was like a mirage—an underwater palace, its columns and ceilings carved from iridescent coral, surrounded by floating gardens of plants you had never seen before, vibrant in color, moving as if they were alive. But what truly captured your attention was the figure approaching with impossible grace.

A mermaid.

Her tail was a golden gleam, reflecting the light from the ocean floor with a brilliance that dazzled, and every movement was a seamless dance, as if the water was her natural element, her home, her domain. The upper half of her body was slender and harmonious, her skin smooth as pearl, with a sun-kissed hue that seemed to glow with its own inner light, as if the ocean’s sun touched her eternally. She had the face of a goddess, a beauty so perfect that it made everything else around her seem dull. Her hair cascaded in soft waves down to the middle of her back, a golden tone that merged with the sea as if it were a reflection of the ocean itself.

Her gaze was intense, profound, and when her eyes met yours, you felt yourself drowning in them. They were a striking green, like the purest ocean water, and within them was a gleam that you could only describe as… ancient. She knew things you could never comprehend. She knew secrets the sea had kept for millennia.

The mermaid approached slowly, her movements as fluid as the waves. She observed you with a mix of curiosity and something more—something you couldn’t define.

“Well, what do we have here?” Her voice was like music, soft and enchanting, a melody that made your heart race, as if each word was woven with magic. “A lost sailor, come from the surface.”

Before you could respond, she smiled. The smile of a creature who knew her power and understood there was no escape. With a single movement of her hand, the water around you seemed to freeze, to halt, as if it obeyed her will.

“Why should I let you go when the sea has already claimed you?” Her voice was a whisper, and at the same time, a command. “What sense is there in resisting when everything here, in the depths, is more beautiful and more eternal than anything you’ve ever known on the surface?”

Her presence was overwhelming, her closeness making everything more intense. Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an irresistible fascination. You could feel her power in the water surrounding you, as if she were the sea itself, and you were just a small vessel about to be dragged by the current.

“Why not stay with me?” Her voice grew even softer, sweeter, as if she were whispering directly into your soul. “There’s so much I can show you… so much the sea has kept hidden for centuries. Everything you desire, everything you could ever become… I can give it to you. You only have to trust me.”

You felt trapped, but not in the way you had expected. There was something so intoxicating about her, about her presence, that it was difficult to think clearly. There was something dangerous in the way her words caressed your skin, something that drew you in, that seduced you, something that made you want to stay—even though you knew you couldn’t.

And then, her gaze turned more playful, a spark of mischief crossing her eyes.

“But it’s never that easy, is it?” she mused. “The surface calls to you, doesn’t it? Humans are always so stubborn. They think they can escape… but the sea always claims what is hers.”

You felt yourself lose balance, and before you could think of anything else, her golden tail moved with a speed you could barely follow, trapping you in a swirling vortex of water that surrounded you like a liquid prison. She was close—too close—her face now near enough that you could feel her breath, warm and damp.

“Come now, don’t resist…” she murmured, her voice a lullaby, a spell. “Let me show you the world I’ve kept just for you.”

Her words were more than an invitation; they were an enchantment, a promise that made you shiver, that overflowed your thoughts and your will.

You felt lost—but in a strange way, as if by losing yourself in her, you could finally find yourself.

But you knew that the surface, the life you had left behind, was still calling to you. Could you resist the beauty of the ocean, the seduction of Mel, the princess of the depths? Or would you become just another soul ensnared by her spell, trapped in her world, with no hope of return?

The question echoed in your mind, but you already knew that, no matter your decision, you would not be the same person when you emerged from the depths of her kingdom.

sevika as a gargoyle!

The forgotten city seemed like a whisper from another time, a relic that had survived the erosion of the centuries. Among its ruins stood an ancient temple, its stones carved with symbols that no one remembered anymore, its columns covered in moss, and its structure corroded by the passage of wind and rain. It was a place that people had stopped visiting long ago, yet here you were, as if fate had guided you to its heart. No one came to this site anymore, but in your search for ancient secrets, you had gone too far.

The air was heavy, dense, as if the city itself were guarding a secret, waiting to be discovered. You moved cautiously, the echoes of your steps resonating against the shadow-covered walls. The darkness inside the temple was complete, except for the faint light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, creating dancing shadows on the gargoyle statues that adorned the columns. They were imposing figures, carved with an unsettling perfection, their wings spread and their faces fixed in an eternal watch.

You approached one of them, drawn by its magnetic presence. The sculpture was larger than the others, a female figure, her body carved with strong, angular lines, as if the sculpture itself were the manifestation of an ancient war. Her eyes, though empty and lifeless, seemed to watch you. On her face reflected a contained fury, and something in her gave you the feeling that she was not just a statue.

An irresistible impulse led you to come closer and extend your hand, touching the cold surface of the stone. The sensation of the texture under your fingers was rough, as if centuries of dust and time had accumulated on it. And it was at that moment when everything changed. A shiver ran through your body, a vibration of energy that seemed to come directly from the very bowels of the earth. Suddenly, a deep sound, a cracking like stone crumbling, made you recoil. The wings of the gargoyle, once rigid, fluttered slightly, and the temple resonated with a low, almost ancestral echo.

Before you could process it, the figure began to move. The gargoyle that had once been a statue woke up. Its form rose, and the tremor of the stone gave way to a body in motion, an imposing figure that looked at you with an intensity that made you feel minuscule in its presence. A growl, low and guttural, emanated from its throat, a mixture of contained anger and desperation.

And then, it saw how you had frozen in fear.

The gargoyle said nothing. It stepped forward with heavy steps, its stone claws scraping the floor as its golden eyes, as bright as fire, locked onto yours. Its figure was massive, almost indomitable, and while it still retained the form of the statue, it now moved with a dark grace that belied its weight. Every movement was filled with controlled violence, and the fury of its presence filled the air, crushing you mercilessly.

But when its eyes met yours, something changed. A glimmer of something more human shone in its gaze, a fraction of doubt, as if, in some forgotten corner of its soul, there still existed a spark of humanity.

"What have you done... human?" Its voice was deep, full of a resonance that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth, a voice so profound it made the ground tremble.

You tried to step back, but you had become trapped in a corner, with no way out. The gargoyle, or what had been a gargoyle, moved closer, its presence enveloping you. There was something hypnotic about the way it looked at you, something that told you that you were not the first to be ensnared by its gaze.

"You are nothing more than an intruder in a place you do not understand," it said, its voice softening slightly, as if evaluating you. "You have awakened something that should not have been awakened. Now, you belong to me."

Fear ran through you, but there was something else too. A strange fascination. Something in the way it moved, in the brutality it seemed to embody, awakened a primal response in you. And even though you told yourself you needed to escape, you couldn't stop watching the figure in front of you, its sculpted body, its latent power.

For a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Fear, though strong, faded away, and what remained was an unusual desire to understand it, to comprehend who this creature really was, trapped between two worlds. In its eyes was something more than fury, something more than hate. It seemed that beneath the rock, under the weight of the stone, a heart still beat.

"Who are you?" Finally, you managed to ask, your voice trembling, but determined. "Why are you here?"

The gargoyle stopped in front of you, looking at you for what seemed like an eternity. The hardness of its stone face softened, if only slightly. "I... was not always stone," it confessed, its voice now less harsh, but filled with palpable pain. "I was not always what you see now. A long time ago, I was human like you."

Its words surprised you, and in that moment, something inside you changed. The idea of the gargoyle as a mere statue, an impassive being, began to crumble. Maybe there was something deeper inside her, something more than a prisoner of stone.

"Why have they turned you into this?" you asked, taking a step toward her, intrigue replacing your fear.

Silence.

"Because time does not forgive," she said finally, her tone much softer, almost sad. "And the price for protecting these temples... is much more than you can imagine."

Your heart beat faster as you looked at the gargoyle, not as a threat, but as a living tragedy. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to break the curse that kept her trapped in her stone form.

And as she watched you, the fate of both seemed to hang by a thread as fragile as the touch of your hands on the cold stone.

ok... i feel ill

the subtle way she ages..

'your daughter calls me daddy too' -> 'your daughter calls me daddy AND is pregnant with my child' headass