Can U Do That Same Professor Sevika But Make Her 100% Fluff With The Reader After Class And Invites Her

more sevika cosplay crumbs ~

follow my twitter hehe @ higuromii I can’t wait to do her s2 look!! wig is already secured.

Oil & Water, cupcake

I was rewatching the "Vi in front of the council" scene from season 1 of Arcane. And it's just super funny to me. So the setup is:

Caitlyn: Silco is the big baddie of the undercity. The only reason why you didn't know was because Marcus was lying to you. Jayce: is upset about the bridge attack. He wants to go after Jinx with violent force. Mel: That could trigger war, war is bad. Caitlyn: is worried about the casualties. Mel: wants to negotiate with Silco now that they know what he wants.

Vi is outraged that they want to negotiate with Silco and storms off.

She then has her big oil and water conversation with Caitlyn about how Piltover and Zaun are like Oil and Water and they can never work together just like Caitlyn and Vi can never work out, making Caitlyn cry.

... and then the first thing Vi does is NOT to go back to the undercity. Nope. After just rejecting Caitlyn's offer to come up with a new plan together, Vi goes to Jayce, a different Piltie.

1.) It just intensely amuses me that after like 3 sentences of Jayce Vi immediately recognized him a kindred spirit who she could easily rope into a violent revenge plan. Against the stated wishes of both their girlfriends.

2.) I wasn't really deep into CaitVi discourse in season 1, so I wonder, did we talk about how Vi's speech about oil and water is complete bullshit? And I don't mean that in a meta way, I mean this as: Vi is bullshitting Caitlyn? Yes, I get blabla, Vi is feeling down, she's pushing Cait away. But actually from what is going on on a pure action point of view, Vi is telling Cait Pilties and Zaunites can't work out and then immediately turns around and teams up with a different Piltie to fight fellow Zaunite Silco together?

Like the problem was never that Vi is disappointed that the council didn't help her or that she doesn't think the relationship with Cait can work out. The real "problem" is here that Vi thinks Cait is too kind hearted and cares too much about collateral damage. (which, you know, is deeply ironic considering season 2...)

In that sense, the Oil and Water convo has shades of Vi ditching Caitlyn at the brothel. Deciving and distracting Caitlyn so she can do her own thing.

Vi wants to go after Silco at all costs. Mel is worried that going down after him will trigger all out war. Cait is worried that innocents will get hurt. Vi cares about neither of those things. She is deeply upset at the thought that the council might try to negotiate with Silco.

So she goes after Jayce because Jayce wanted to do the same things as her "We've been talking about talking for weeks now. They're still cleaning the blood off the bridge. When do we say enough is enough?"

I think it's worth noting how masterfully Vi manipulates the shit out of Jayce here. Praising him for being smart, telling him he is a victim (aka insiutating that he's allowed to strike back), suggesting that Cait would want him to strike when we know that is a total lie. [note that I don't think that is a bad thing, like I love Vander and think he likely has his own way of using charisma and I love Silco of course]

Another interesting thing of the council scene of course is that it already shows shades of "Vi thinks Poweder and Jinx are two different people and she's okay with selling out Jinx". That's why she gives Jinx's name to the council. That's why she tells Cait in season 2 that it's okay to take the shot on Jinx.

I think it's also worth noting just how many Zaunites Vi murderizes/helps murderize with the help of enforcers in the factory raid. Beyond just the kid.

And how many more people including children she likely helps send to Stilwater

after just complaining to Jayce how bad Stilwater is.

And after getting tons of Zaunites killed and arrested in her quest for revenge because she is mad that Silco "ruined" Powder, the first thing Vi wants to do is do more raid, kill and arrest even more people.

I want to shout this from the roottops: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON OPPRESSION. Vi does not give a shit about the undercity people when it comes to pursing her own family goals.

I think it's interesting in the context of season 2, how these threads continue for Vi. Again similarity with Vi giving Jinx's name to the council in 1x08 versus saying she's in favor of killing Jinx at the beginning of season 2.

And how she's willing to carve a bloody path through the undercity with the help of enforcers just to hurt Silco and dismantle his shimmer production. (again at this point it was explicitly stated in the council scene that Silco's core goal is the Nation of Zaun, so Vi knows this and is apparently not impressed) So is her willing to take out the rest of the Chem Barons using the Grey really that different? The only difference is that Caitlyn makes her formally wear the uniform.

It's also interesting to read this in the context of the progression of Caitlyn and Vi's relationship. Like if you read Oil and Water not as a tragic breakup but as Vi lying to Caitlyn because she sees Caitlyn as being in the way of Vi's quest for revenge. Vi ditching Cait and feeling bad or not bad about it is a theme in season 1. It leads to Cait being kidnapped and Cait's mom being killed.

I can see how this leads to Vi's guilt. I don't really see the "family dinner scene" as necessarily "Vi is already deeply in love with Cait and so can't bear to see Jinx hurt her". But more as "Vi sees Cait as a relatively well meaning innocent who doesn't deserve this treatment and also Jinx is acting kind of unhinged".

Cait got Vi out of Stillwater, tagged along, Vi tried to ditch her, Cait saved her from being killed, Cait healed her, Cait got kidnapped by the Firelights, Cait tried to make things right via the council, Vi again tried to ditch Cait and started an ill fated revenge. And then Vi gets a front row seat for Cait's grief over her mom.

This is of course where in season 2 Cait starts showing obsessive and vengeful tendencies and a more prejudiced attitude towards Zaunites.

It's also interesting in how far the season 2 raids continue the threads of 1x08, on one hand Caitlyn still talking about avoiding additional bloodshed, but also it being a continuation of Vi's bloody "dismantle Shimmer" operation (that maybe ends up going too far/veering into the wrong direction).

So the question is when and Vi actually falls for Caitlyn. My personal take as a more casual/occasional CaitVi enjoying person who was never deep in the fandom.

I think Vi saw Caitlyn was hot but basically thought from the start that anything there was a bad idea. Plus she was distracted by her family goals.

I think Caitlyn had feelings very quickly, probably starting to blossom around the "I can tell you have a good heart".

I do think there's an element there of Vi seeing Caitlyn as this well meaning sheltered good thing, the one bright spot. Again especially since imo she's respulsed by Zaun and how much it has changed on her. And yes it's super frustrating that her not feeling attached to Zaun, not seeing the beauty in Zaun seems to include Ekko. Like she is clearly admiring the tree and everything, but her thirst for revenge against Silco is stronger. It seems to me like she still lumps Ekko in with the people who have changed on her and who she doesn't fully recognize and feel at home with.

I think there's some guilt there for having "dirtied up" Cait's life. (again once more: Vi doesn't have a systemic view enough to see Cait as inherently dirtly for being an oppressor of fully grasping that maybe Cait finds it easier to be optimistic and sweet and kind because she grew up cozily, imo she just sees a kindness that she's drawn to and maybe doesn't fully understand)

I'm curious if there was ever any thinking on Amanda's side that turning Cait dark would be an interesting challenge to Vi falling for Cait for her kindness but also Vi discounting/wanting to exclude Caitlyn from certain things maybe with the idea of "Cait is too kind for that, I should go behind her back".

For the record, I don't think that Vi's motivation is just "being pissy that Silco stole Powder or that Silco killed Vander and now rules in his stead". I do think she does on some level see the plight of the undercity, and her analysis/conclusion that Shimmer is at fault for everything just happens to be very shallow. (again repeat after me: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON THE WORLD

Stop pretending she was an enlightened Marxist/leftist in season 1 when she spent a good chunk of season 1 being very much the opposite of that and blaming Silco while comparatively making excuses for Piltover)

This is my first time ordering here. AAAAAHHH It took me a while to gather up the courage.

I want one from the time Violet was in prison. I totally imagine Vi having her first experiences with the woman who did her tattoos (tattoo artist), with her being the only person Vi trusts in prison and more experienced then our fighter. 🫦👀

OOOHH I'm embarrassed now 🙈🙈 Me feel a teenager again

new to this.

sub!vi x dom!reader. tw: smut. fingering. vi is inexperienced. light degradation. praise. men dni! a/n: AWW HI THERE!! i'm glad that you got the courage to ask me for this, because i love this idea so much!! fair warning, i have a kindergarteners level knowledge about prisons, but i know that prisoners typically have cellmates so you guys are cellmates! i'm following a more real life logic rather than arcane 😅 i apologize if this is inaccurate in any way, thank you for this again, anon~

vi was laying on her side in her bed– if you could even call it that. the mattress was so thin it barely covered the wood it was laying on. uncomfortable, but she'd gotten used to it. used to laying on her side staring at your pretty face. you were the thing that made this prison bearable.

you were the resident tattoo artist. most of the inmates in stillwater that had tattoos (vi included) had gone under your steady hand to get them. your work was incredible, and it earned you lots of favors. intel, extra food, cigars even– but you always declined. you had given up on keeping score long ago, not too long after being thrown in here.

thrown in here with... the prettiest girl you'd ever seen. honestly, you didn't understand how such a sweet girl could commit a crime heinous enough to be tossed into a place as horrid as this. you very quickly learned, however, that it was false imprisonment. it wasn't easy, but you'd managed to grow close to your pink haired cellmate, and you'd become quite fond of her. she came to you for all three tattoos she wanted, and thanked you endlessly for the incredible work.

being fond of her was a crime in itself, though. you found yourself staring at her more often than you should've, and you caught her staring back at you more often than not. your gaze often traveled down to her arms, her hands, those thighs... you'd fallen asleep many times with thoughts of her in your head. her constantly getting into fights didn't help– she'd be returned to your shared cell with a bloody nose or a black eye, and you'd take care of her, as always.

tending to her wounds just led to more longing. you hadn't realized how badly you'd been yearning for her until she'd gotten a particularly nasty fork wound on her thigh. she was sitting there in boxers while you made sure to clean the bleeding holes to the best of your abilities. that was months ago, but you still remember the feeling of her eyes on you, the way your stomach flipped at every little gasp or twitch from her, and the way your eyes kept drifting just a little further upward.

months later, here you are in your current predicament. you're staring at her from across the room, both of you holding eye contact. your heart is beating faster than usual. you'd both just gotten done eating, and now it was lights out. there were a couple dim lights on in the hallway, the shadows making vi's face look even softer than it usually did. there was an unspoken tension, and you knew she felt it too if the way she was looking at you like she wanted to kiss you was any indication.

"violet, you want something. i know that look." you state, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"i- hey! i don't like how you know me that well. i just... i've been thinking." vi sighs, you can immediately tell something is wrong. she sat up, but she's not looking you in the face anymore.

"about?" you prompted after a few minutes of silence. vi was obviously contemplating something, and it was making you anxious.

"you? us? i don't know. just... there's something between us, and i know you feel it too." her eyes flicked up to yours, then down to the bedsheet a couple times.

you didn't even speak. you got up, walking over to sit down beside her and grab her hand. vi turned to look at your entwined hands, giving a light squeeze before meeting your eyes. you leaned in, mouth close to her ear.

"do you want this?" you ask, voice hardly louder than a whisper. your free hand moved to rest on her thigh.

"want w- oh. i've never... i'm new to this." vi hesitated, nervous to say it out loud. she swallowed so hard, you swore you could hear it.

"hey, hey, that's okay. let me show you, yeah? we can stop at any time if you want to." you pull back enough to look her in her soft, grey eyes. you bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, making sure she's focused and listening.

"yeah... i'll let you." vi nodded in your hands, eyes closing with a soft sigh.

you kept your hold on her face, but leaned in to kiss her. her lips were softer than you expected them to be, your own eyes closing as you relaxed at the feeling. you pulled back, but before you could even open your mouth to check on her, she presses her lips on yours again.

vi was a little messy with her kisses, but the more you kissed, the more she got the hang of it. your hands started to wander, one moving back to her thigh, and the other coming to hold her waist. your hands on her gave her the confidence to start to touch you. you felt one of her hands slide up your back, while the other held the side of your face. you smile into the kiss, both hands moving to her hips to gently tug her into your lap.

soon enough, you had vi straddling your thighs– knees on either side of your hips as you kissed. you pulled back, trailing your mouth down her jawline and to her neck. you nipped a little just above her collarbone to test her reaction. vi's soft gasp drew a wicked smile from you as you bit harder. you sucked a couple hickeys into her neck, giggling at her soft whimpers.

"can i take this off, pretty girl?" you ask, hands coming up to the hem of vi's shirt. she nods immediately, leaning back to help you pull the shirt over her head.

your eyes widened once her shirt was off. she was toned, you'd watched her work out before but you'd never seen her shirtless like this. you traced the contours of her torso with a hungry gaze, eyes coming to rest on her tits. her nipples were hard, chest flushed a light red from the blush that had taken over her face.

"stop staring! it's embarrassing." vi protested, crossing her arms over her chest.

"ah, ah. don't cover yourself up, vi, you're so gorgeous." you tell her, hands coming up to pull her arms away from her chest.

you used one hand to pull her body closer to you, your mouth latching on to one of her nipples. your free hand came up to twist the other one, drawing a moan from vi's pretty lips. you pulled back, your hand stopping it's movements.

"sshh, don't be so loud. do you wanna wake the whole hall?" you whispered, purposefully squeezing her breast to pull another noise from her. she quickly shook her head, resting her forehead on your shoulder.

"yeah, that's what i thought. c'mon, baby, can i lay you down?" you speak softly, feeling the vulnerability radiating off of the girl in your lap. you feel vi nod against you, and slowly move her onto her back. she's looking up at you through pink locks of hair, her lips parted as she breathes a bit heavier than usual.

you crawl between her legs, leaning over her to plant a couple kisses on her lips. her head tilts back as you kiss down her neck, breath quickening. her hands fist the sheets as you trail down her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts, down her stomach, and finally to the waistband of her pants. you look up, eyes meeting hers and hands coming to rest on her hips.

"can... is this okay? can i take these off?" you slowly rub her hips, keeping your voice soft. you're trying to make her feel as comfortable as you can.

"y-yeah, uh," vi clears her throat, taking a deep breath. "go for it."

you nod, beginning to slowly slide her pants down, and eventually off her ankles. you run your hands up and down her thighs, trying to soothe her.

"you're so pretty, vi. so, so gorgeous. are you okay?" you query, resting your head on her inner thigh as you stare up at her. your breath hits dangerously close to where she wants you, causing her to try and squeeze her thighs together.

"mmh- yeah, fine. want you so bad." she pants, voice taking on a higher pitch than usual. she's doing her best to keep quiet, you can tell.

"yeah? i'm sure you do, baby. let's get these off." you smile at the neediness in her voice, moving to slowly pull her boxers off. it takes everything in you not to let out a moan at how pretty she looked.

vi's pussy was already soaked. she was practically dripping onto her sheets already, you hadn't realized how long you'd been staring until she closed her legs. you immediately pushed them back open, earning a gasp from her. you reached one hand up, running your index finger through her folds to see how she'd react. she almost jumped out of her skin, hips jerking with a sharp gasp.

"fuck! baby-" she whined, immediately covering her mouth with her hands. you smiled, giggling at how desperate she was already.

"aww, what is it? you need me that bad, huh?" you ask, voice falsely saccharine. you ran your finger through her heat again, dragging it more firmly over her clit.

"uh huh! mmf, please, please! i need it." vi begs, turning her head to bury her face in the thin pillow. it wasn't doing much to hide her, but you wouldn't tell her that. you did, however, warn her.

"okay, baby, okay. i'm gonna put one finger in, alright? is that okay?" you continue rubbing her outer thigh with your free hand. you kept a close eye on her face, half of it still visible, for any signs of discomfort or pain.

that's the question that made vi look up at you, her expression already looking fucked out despite you having not even done anything. she nods, a string of quiet begs coming from her. that's all you need to push your finger in, watching as vi's hips twitch slightly. she brings her hand to her mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you push your finger in and out. you do that for awhile, trying to get her used to the feeling.

it doesn't take her long before she's already begging for a second, and of course you oblige. who are you to decline a pretty girl whos asking so nicely? a second finger being pushed in draws a low groan from her, back arching.

"that feel good, sweetheart?" you scissor your fingers, pace gentle as you let her adjust. she doesn't properly answer, just whines and pushes her hips down on your hand faster.

"aww... such a slut for me, huh? so greedy." you tease, voice slightly condescending. your words draw a high pitched whine from her. you watch as her hands move to fist the sheets, eyes looking down between her thighs.

"please? more, i need more- oh god!" vi's words quickly cut off whenever you hit a gummy spot inside her after hooking your fingers. her hips jerk into your hand, moans more freely spilling from her lips.

"ah, there we go. you sound so pretty, baby." you smile, happy she was enjoying herself so much. you angled your fingers to keep hitting that bundle of nerves in her, drawing moan after moan and whine after whine. vi had given up on muffling herself, she knew she was probably waking up the whole block but she couldn't care less.

she felt way too good, feeling the electricity run through her body. the muscles in her stomach tightened, back arching further off the bed as she panted. vi couldn't help it, her hand reached to grab the hand you had on her outer thigh. she squeezed it, and almost immediately, all of the tension in her body released. pleasure washed over her like a wave in the ocean, and her body went lax. she was breathing heavy, eyes closed, hand death gripping yours.

you pull your fingers out of her, licking them clean before trailing kisses up her thighs, over her stomach, all the way up to her face. you take a second to dip down and lick the rest of her clean, not bothering trying to clean the sheets knowing laundry day was tomorrow. once she lets your hand go, you both sit up and face each other.

vi is still panting, but she's breathing easier now. "oh my god. does that always feel that good?"

"yeah, pretty much. god, you looked so pretty." you praise, moving her hair out of her face and gently cupping her cheek.

she blushes bright red, looking down instead of making eye contact. "h-hey! you can't just say that. you were doing all the work." she argues.

"hush, you did good too. i'm proud of you for going out of your comfort zone for me." you smile softly at her, thumb caressing her cheek. "let's get your clothes back on, yeah? you can sleep in my bed tonight." you offer.

vi looks up at you and nods immediately. "sounds good to me! lucky we did this before laundry day..." she shakes her head playfully, standing up and stretching before bending to pick up her clothes.

"i'm tempted to hide your clothes from you so i can see your body for longer." you tease, watching as she slides her boxers and pants back on.

she giggles, turning around to look at you as she puts her shirt on. "you hide my clothes, i'll never get another tattoo." she jokes back, knowing how much you'd been begging her to get another tattoo from you. she looked so pretty inked up, how could you not?

"hey! okay okay, no hiding clothes!" you stand up, grabbing her hands. "you truly are gorgeous, though." you say, sighing as you stare into her eyes with adoration. vi leans to kiss you, pulling you over to your bed.

"whatever you say, babe." she lays down, gesturing for you to lay beside her. you do, resting your head on her chest and closing your eyes.

"i love you, violet."

"i love you too."

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long, i was dealing with a lot of shit this week and part of last, on top of going through a big period of feeling more ace so 😅 working on this was difficult, but i'm finally done!! i'm very inexperienced at writing smut, so i apologize if any of this sounds cringy or bad. thank you for the request, anon, and i hope you request again !! i loved this idea <3

Hi!!!! I was wondering if we can have some dark BG3 but with Karlach.. if you can because ohhhhh I love your stuff for her literally every time I read it I fall in love THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING BTW

Ah thank you so much !

oooo okay y'all I'm writing this as a one shot, she's not being added to the list (for now), I will most likely add her when I'm adding the cambions which will be when requests are finished. This is gonna be set when she takes control of the nether brain.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!Karlach x reader | Blood-drenched Sunset

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The infernal glow of Avernus spread before you like a sick parody of a sunset, blood-red skies choked with smoke and ash. The smell of brimstone clung to everything, a constant reminder of where you were and what you had become a part of. Karlach stood at the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the battlefield below, her fiery mane whipping in the hot wind. Imps and cambions swarmed around her like moths drawn to a flame, eager to do her bidding.

You watched her, your heart aching. This wasn’t the Karlach you had fallen in love with—the one who had fought so fiercely for others, who had carried a blazing heart of courage and compassion. But you understood how she had come to this. Her pain, her rage, her betrayal by the people of Baldur’s Gate—it all made sense. And that was what hurt the most. You understood her too well.

When she turned to you, her eyes were wild with fury and determination, but there was something else buried deep within them. Something you could barely see but refused to give up on.

“They’ll all pay,” she growled, her voice like a low rumble of thunder. “Every last one of Zariel’s lapdogs. Just like those cowards in Baldur’s Gate who let Gortash rise to power. They’ll all burn.”

You stepped forward, hands trembling but held open in a gesture of peace. You were covered in ash, grime and splatters of blood that belonged to those you called friend.

“Karlach,” you began softly, but your voice broke under the weight of what you were about to say. “You were one of Zariel’s servants once. Remember? There are people down there—innocents, just like you were.”

Her expression twisted, her lips curling into a bitter smile.

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut as she pointed her index finger at you. “Don’t you dare compare me to them. I escaped. I broke free. They don’t deserve your pity, and they sure as hell don’t deserve mine.”

You reached out a trembling hand toward her, desperation thick in your voice. “Please, Karlach. This isn’t who you are. You’re better than this—better than all of this. Be fair, give them a chance. Don’t let this place consume what’s left of your humanity.”

For a moment, you thought you saw her flinch, the barest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. But then her expression hardened, and she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” she said, stepping closer to you, her towering form casting a shadow over your trembling figure. “You’re trying to control me. Hold me back. You’re lucky I love you, babe! So damn lucky!”

She snapped her fingers, and before you could react, two cambions stepped out of the shadows, their claws digging into your arms as they grabbed hold of you. You struggled and cried out, but their grip was ironclad.

Karlach grinned, the flames dancing around her face making her look almost demonic. She sauntered up to you, cupping your cheek with a hand that burned hot against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock affection. “I want you to see everything. Front row seat, just for you.” She turned to the cambions, giving them a wink. “Make sure they don’t miss a thing.”

The cambions dragged you toward the edge of the cliff, forcing you to kneel as Karlach strode back toward the battlefield below. Her war cry echoed across the hellish plains, and her army of imps and demons surged forward with savage glee.

Tears streamed down your face as you watched the carnage unfold, helpless to do anything but plead silently with the woman you loved—the woman you knew was still in there somewhere. You whispered her name, over and over again, a prayer against the storm.

Somewhere in the chaos, you thought you saw her pause. Just for a moment. A flicker of something human—a memory, perhaps, or a feeling she couldn’t quite extinguish. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your hope alive.

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y'all how dare you force me to do that to my baby girl.. jk jk i can't lie making her evil was very fun. I hope you guys enjoyed these dark karlach scraps, i think there is another dark karlach request in the queue so y'all will be fed again at some point - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

HELLOO! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

My name is Rai, I am 18 years old, my pronouns are she/her, I am pansexual and demisexual and I love quiet activities like reading, sketching, paper crafts, mehandi art, cooking, and stuff. I am an introvert, and my MBTI is INFP

♡

I enjoy watching horror and thriller movies. My favourites are Lights Out, Train to Busan, Tumbbad, and the Conjuring series. I love animated shows like Arcnae (utterly obsessed) and The Blue Eye Samurai

♡

I love reading and yapping about the recent book I've read. I mostly read fiction but dabble in socio-political and history books ^⁠_⁠^ I enjoy sweet and spicy food, especially noodles, idk I just have a special love for them. I love watching anime, especially slice of life or something with a huge emotional impact, my favourite being Bananafish

✿

Would love to meet people here and get to know them ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Racists , homophobics, transphobics, misogynists,etc Please don't interact get help instead :⁠-⁠) respectfully so

Can I ask for a counselor!Sevika and reader with social anxiety? And Sevika has to attend those fancy "parties" of the Council, and there are so many people there, the reader feels uncomfortable (she doesn't cry, but almost), and Sevika notices and takes her out of there and comforts her? Sorry if this is confusing, I'm writing this in the middle of the night and a little sleepy!! Thanks (And forgive me if I wrote something wrong, English isn't really my first language...)

-🦇

i love me some sappy sevika. here u go!!! hope its okay! <3 (also don’t sue me i couldnt find a good maroon button up pic. i’m sorry. luv u.)

never really alone

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sevika x reader fluff

It was nighttime, the moon gleamed down on you as you looked perfect. Your hair was styled, had on the most beautiful gown that Sevika picked out just for you, and your makeup was flawless. Everything about you was perfect. Except, you didn’t feel perfect. You felt the dress synching your waist in, making it hard to breathe. Your hair and face felt heavy, and the unnecessarily tall heels pinched your feet. But alas, you were doing this for your wife, so none of that mattered to you. You’d be able to suck it up just this one night for her, just for this one party.

The two of you walked in through the large doors, hand in hand. The immediate buzzing sound of people chattering, drinks pouring, and fancy music hit you like a truck. You gulped, squeezing Sevika’s hand, looking over at her. She looked straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed (per usual; she has a resting bitch face), maroon button up blouse semi tucked into her black slacks, belt buckle shining in the light. You could feel your cheeks flush underneath all the foundation as you stared, admiring but also trying to find comfort in her face. She looked over at you, eyebrows immediately relaxing, giving you a small smile.

“You ready, princess?” She asked, squeezing your hand back. A little sign to show that she had you, no matter what. You felt your tense body loosen up a bit, breathing out deeply, and nodding.

“Yes,” You started, smiling back. “I-I’m ready.” You pushed those words out of your mouth the best you could. Of course you weren’t ready. If it were up to you, the two of you would be at home, snuggled up watching a movie. Before you could even second guess your answer, she began to walk forward, leading you into the drowning sound. You followed behind her, of course. Those stupid heels were already hurting, so it definitely took you a second to catch up.

You knew Sevika didn’t necessarily enjoy these parties, but she had to show up and put on a face as best she could (which… was never really her best, you could tell she hated it). So you knew you probably wouldn’t be there long. All you had to do was suck it up and push the anxiety down as best you could for an hour or two.

Right?

As you were caught up in your own thoughts, you felt Sevika’s grip loosen and let go from your hand, making you snap back to reality. Your head snapped up, eyes darting towards her.

“Sevika! Glad you could make it,” Someone (of importance, you assumed) said, leading her away. You didn’t care much about seeing their face, your eyes stayed glued on Sevika. “There’s some people here who want to meet you. Follow me?”

She looked back at you, almost like she was asking for permission without actually asking. You couldn’t possibly hold her back from this, doing her job. So you forced the best smile you could, nodding. “Go ahead, darling. I’ll be here.”

She sighed annoyingly at the request, but smiled back at you. “Thank you. I’ll keep my eye on you, don’t stray too far. Okay?” She said before turning around and walking away. You watched her until she got lost in the crowds, leaving you by yourself. Your breath hitched once you lost sight of her, fingers twiddling as the panic began to settle in. You shook your head around, trying your best to push the feeling down.

I’m a grown being, I can do this. I can totally do this. You thought to yourself, trying to fake it till you make it. With the bit of courage you had, you made your way to the bar area, grabbing one of the drinks that were being given out. You sipped on it, face immediately twisting up. The alcohol tasted bitter, the cranberry juice doing absolutely nothing to mask the flavor, making it hard to swallow. You gulped it down as best you could anyway. You figured maybe getting a little buzz might cool the anxiety down, I mean, it didn’t hurt to try.

…So you picked up another drink after forcing down the first. You walked around, exploring the place, which was huge. I mean, truly, there was no ending to it. Halls after halls, multiple doors, stairs that led to Gods knows where. It seemed like you were doing fine. You were almost confident in yourself, dress shimmering, hair shiny, lashes batting.

Until… a group of women began to walk towards you. You stood there at first, trying to look nonchalant. I mean, no way they were coming to you. Right? Wrong.

“Hey! You’re Sevika’s wife, aren’t you?” One of them questioned, eyes gleaming as she stared. “Wow, what a beauty. She’s certainly lucky, isn’t she?” All of them giggled, touching your hair and dress. You felt it creeping up again, that same feeling that was always lingering in the pit of your stomach.

You cracked a smile anyway, hesitating before responding. “Y-Yeah, I’m her wife. Thank you. I should go find her, actually.” Was the best you could do. You figured you were coming off as rude, but these ladies did not catch the hint.

“What? Going so soon! Tell us more about her, she’s such a drag to work with usually. How could her cranky self wife up someone like you?” Another of them commented, their giggles turning into loud laughter. You could tell this was drunken banter, but that didn’t seem to help you at all. The feeling began to grow bigger, heavier, pushing down on your chest. It slowly became hard to breathe as their words overlapped, molding into something you couldn’t understand. Your chest was rising and falling too fast, so fast you couldn’t keep up. Your hands gripped on the cup, squeezing hard, shaking as they continued. How could they possibly not catch the hint? You regretted telling Sevika yes. Yes to joining her, yes to walking in, yes to letting her go join the others. You felt your eyes begin to water, hot tears beginning to build up, begging for their release. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, totally fucking path-

“Ladies,” Sevika’s husky voice broke your internal battle. The women immediately peaked over your head, looking at her as she stood behind you. She grabbed onto your waist, pulling you in. “Looks like you’ve bothered my wife enough. It’s about time you get going.” She said, voice stern and low. They smiled awkwardly, nodding and agreeing as they walked away, mumbling not so nice things under their breaths.

You felt Sevika grip onto your hand, leading you outside to the balcony, closing the doors behind you. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, making you spill your drink along the tile floor as you held onto her, face nuzzling in her neck. Although she was squeezing a little, you felt like you could finally breathe. Her hand ran down your back, then up again, rubbing it slowly.

“I’m sorry I left you alone, princess. Are you okay?” She said as she pulled away, cupping your face in her hands, her grey eyes full of worry. You held onto her hands as did so, resting your head against them. The anxiety began to melt away as you stared into her eyes, felt her skin against yours, her scent wrapping around you. This was your safe place.

“I’m okay,” You said, eyes closing, taking it all in. “I’m sorry I freaked out. Did I ruin it for you?”

“Of course not, I get whatever I want around here. So, my work for tonight is done.” She said, scoffing a bit.

Your eyes opened, immediately raising an eyebrow at her, giggling at her sassy remark. “Is that so?”

“It is so, and you know what it is I want now?” She asked, leaning closer into your face.

You giggled. “What does her highness want now, hm?”

She suddenly grabbed your waist, pulled you in, then kissed you. It was a soft and slow kiss, taking the time to feel her lips melting into yours. This was heaven, you were sure of it. Her soft and salty lips, gentle yet secure hands holding you, her care for you. She was your heaven. She pulled away, smiling softly, staring into your eyes. “I want us to go home and have the night to ourselves.” The moonlight hit her face just right. Her eyes glistened as she looked at you, skin glowing, and muscles showed through her shirt.

Your heart fluttered, ears reddening up a bit. Gods, you were so in love with her. The corners of your mouth lifted up into a toothy smile, one that Sevika absolutely adored. “I’d love that, Vika.” You said, pushing her hair back to get a better look of her face in that moment. You wanted to remember this, have this memory of her forever.

She grabbed onto your hand, kissing it softly, then looked back down to you. “By the way, alcohol is horrible for anxiety.”

Your eyes widened at the sudden comment. “How… did you know?” You questioned, blinking quickly.

“I tasted it all in your mouth, babe.” She started as she began to lead you back inside. “Plus, I had my eye on you the entire time, you were never really alone. I’d never do that to you.”

You blushed, smiling at her comment as the two of you walked back inside. She wasn’t usually this sappy, but when she was, you ate it up. You’d definitely bring up how hot her need to always protect you was later. She quickly said her goodbyes, brushing off the small talks, then led you outside the giant doors you had came in from. You couldn’t help but stare at her lovingly the entire time, wanting nothing more than to kiss her over and over. Maybe do even a little more than that, but you’d save that for the bedroom.

Sevika is the pe teacher and reader is the English teacher and reader is sweet to all the students and everyone loves her but sevika is more on the strict side, doesn’t actually matter what’s the plot i just need teacher!sevika x teacher!reader😭🙏

HELL YES

men and minors dni

"jinx, the bell rang five minutes ago, kiddo. what class are you supposed to be in?" you ask as you walk into your classroom, blowing on your fresh cup of coffee.

this is your planning period, and you never mind having a student or two visit you, but you know jinx better than to assume she's here on her study-hall and not skipping class.

"please don't make me go, teach."

"dr. singed's chemistry class?" you guess. he's notorious for his harsh grading rubric.

jinx shakes her head. "no, no, i've got an a in chem." she huffs. "it's gym class."

you laugh. "you don't like gym? i've seen you run down the halls, you're quick as hell. figured you'd love that stuff."

"fuck no. sevika's a monster! she's making us climb ropes and do pushups-- i can barely carry my backpack to school, what makes her think i can do a fuckin' pullup!?" jinx laments.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. you gesture to the little corner of bean bags, blankets, and books in your class, then pull open your desk drawer. "you can stay. but if principal merdarda or sevika comes in here i'm tellin' her you told me it's your study hall."

"you'd rat me out?!" jinx cries. you grab one of the many bags of chips you store in your bottom drawer and toss it to her where she's getting cozy in the beanbag. she grins. "flamers, fuck yeah!"

"in exchange for my hospitality... you need to tell me why i saw your sister fighting with a cop at the gay bar last weekend." you request.

jinx gasps, her eyes lighting up in delight at a chance to gossip about vi-- a girl you taught a few years ago.

"you party at the hound?!" jinx asks with a giggle. you shrug.

"is that so shocking?"

"you're badass underneath that cardigan, huh, teach?" jinx teases. she stands from the corner and drags her beanbag across the classroom, situating herself in front of your desk and digging into her flamers. "okay, so, a year ago vi got arrested at a protest, right?" jinx starts.

you nod along in amusement at jinx's story, dividing your attention between her and the essays you're grading.

zaun high is small enough that you get to really know the kids that roam the halls for four years, and jinx comes from a big family with a gaggle of kids you've only ever adored. it's good to hear that her brothers are doing well, that vi's figuring herself out.

you blink up at jinx when she takes a pause between stories, snacking on her food. "so i hear you've made things official with ekko."

jinx turns bright red and she squeaks as she hides behind her braids. "shut up!"

"had to lock him down before he gets elected class president, huh?" you tease. jinx squawks.

"okay, well, what about a rumor i heard that you're dating another teacher here!" jinx accuses, pointing at you.

you giggle and shrug. "mmm... maybe... but you'll never guess which." you say.

jinx scoffs and rolls her eyes. "oh please, it's so obvious. you and profe ran are always giggling together." she says.

you laugh. ran, the spanish teacher, is a childhood friend of yours, but they're certainly not the person you're dating. "sure, it's ran."

jinx frowns and squints at you. "the new college councilor?" she guesses.

"ms. grayson?" you ask. jinx nods. you laugh again. "that's hilarious. isn't she married?"

jinx huffs. "well, i dunno! are you even dating anyone?"

the door slams open and you both jump, turning to look at sevika.

fuck. she looks good. you're pretty sure she's been wearing her shortest possible shorts just to tease you. she's been using the increasingly warm weather as her excuse.

"jinx! the fuck are you doing?" she glares at the teenager.

jinx jumps out of her beanbag and scrambles to collect her belongings. you giggle.

"put the beanbag back before you go."

"fuck." jinx mumbles, scrambling some more.

sevika turns her glare from her missing student to you, striding up to your desk. you bite your lip as you watch her thighs ripple with each step. "you're harboring fugitive students now?"

"she told me it was her study hall." you lie.

jinx groans. "you rat!"

sevika huffs and glares down at you. you shrug and blink up at her innocently. with a quick glance at jinx where she's stuffing her face with the rest of her chips over the garbage can, you hold up a folder to block your mouth and whisper up at your girlfriend. "my place tonight?"

sevika's glare melts for just a moment, and she gives you a half nod and a wink before tunring on her heel and smacking the chips out of jinx's hand. "c'mon, before i give you detention." she huffs, dragging jinx out of your class by her backpack.

"see you in third period, jinx!" you call. jinx giggles and waves to you. sevika flips you off over her shoulder.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

Ambessa: Chosen of the Wolf Review!

Like many others who held their breaths anticipating the second season of Arcane back in November 2024, I too was drawn to the hype (Cait and Vi, ladies!). I love how the main characters are beautifully written–none are perfect; they have flaws, strengths, and weaknesses. The nuance of the interactions between these characters is full of emotional complexity that makes you, as an audience, relate to their feelings.

In other words, I’m an avid fan of the show!

So when I saw Riot was announcing a novel featuring one of the badass villains that I LOVE to hate, I immediately pre-ordered the audiobook!

Brief Summary of the Story:

Ambessa: Chosen of the Wolf written by C.L. Clark (same author who wrote the sapphic novel The Unbroken and The Faithless!) follows Ambessa Medarda, who we all know from Arcane series, is one hell of a badass warmonger Noxian general. Set a couple of years before the events of Arcane, the book dives into her backstory, showing her ambitions, relationships, and especially her complex bond with her daughter Mel. The story kicks off with Ambessa having a power struggle with her cousin Ta’Fik over the future of the Medarda clan. A full-on story about power moves, family drama (Medarda over all!), and her emotional battles in her personal and political life, which ultimately lead to her arrival in Piltover in the Arcane series.

Narration and the Audio Production: 

I love the fact that the audiobook is narrated by Ellen Thomas herself, the VA of Ambessa from the show!  Her voice is just perfect to capture the whole essence of the book! While I was hoping for some dramatization with sound effects or music, but it's a straightforward reading like a traditional audio book. Still, I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Personal Impressions:

The book nails Ambessa’s character just like in the show. It’s not one of those stories where they try to make the villain seem all soft and misunderstood. Nope, Ambessa is just as fierce and unapologetic as you remember. The author didn’t water her down or change her motives to make her seem more sympathetic. What you see in Arcane is exactly what you get here–no out-of-character moments. Ambessa care about her family and even protects them, but ambition has always been her main driving force. She’s willing to sacrifice her family members if they stand in the way of her goals. This theme is emphasized throughout the story and became a source of internal conflict within Ambessa herself as she has a hard time admitting it and often tries to deny it, but her actions speak louder than words.

About the Lore:

If you’re a fan of Arcane’s lore, this book is a must-read. It feels like a setup for the next Arcane show, which is heavily hinted to be set in Noxus. Even if you have zero knowledge of League of Legends lore, it’s a great introduction to the Empire, their cities, their war culture, and how the Noxian view magic in general. There is also a moment in the book where they talk about Demacia, a rival empire of the Noxian. It also serves as a setup for Mel’s backstory. Just after the end of Arcane season 2, Riot released a video called “Welcome to Noxus,” featuring Mel returning to Noxus to uncover the truth about her roots. This book delves deeply into that backstory, providing valuable context and enriching the narrative.

Overall Ratings

3.5 Stars - Good, with some minor issues

How Sapphic is this book?

There is a side character (one of the heroes in LoL that has a potential to appear in the next Arcane show) that has a sapphic relationship in the book, but it’s not the main focus of the story.

-----SPOILER ALERT------

The book sets the stage for another League of Legends champion: Rell! It turns out that Rell is Ambessa Medarda's protégé, which adds a fascinating layer to the character. Plus, she's sapphic, and her brief but adorable teenage romance with a young stable-hand named Tora unfolds during the conflict between Ambessa and Ta'fik. I'm super excited to see if Rell makes an appearance in the next Arcane show. The groundwork laid in this book hints at some thrilling possibilities for her character and storyline in the series.

Enemies to lovers sevika.

Sevika absolutely despises reader, and yet reader is still so nice to sevika always smiling at her and offering her nothing but kindness…sevika hates it.(no she doesn’t)

Could be either fluff or smutty just an idea

✞⛧ Tension and Temptation ✞⛧

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, slow burn, developing relationship, implied tension, brief violence, slight injury, angst, reluctant affection (no smut..sorry gang-)

Word count: 5.3K

The air in Zaun always feels heavier, weighed down by the grinding industrial machines and the lingering scent of decay. The narrow streets are filled with the constant hum of activity, the hustle and bustle of a city where survival is a day-to-day struggle. You've barely stepped foot into Silco's territory, but the tension that thickens the air makes you feel as though you've already failed the moment you arrived.

And standing before you, arms crossed, is Sevika.

She's a force of nature, towering and imposing, with the kind of presence that could crush a man just by staring at him. Her broad shoulders and muscular frame practically hum with power, her every movement radiating command. A scar runs down her face, another testament to her brutal world, and her grey eyes, cold as steel, meet yours with a flicker of disdain. Her hair falls in dark waves over her sharp features, partially obscuring the fierce, calculating look she's giving you. The metallic sheen of her copper-colored prosthetic arm glints in the low light, its shimmer-enhanced strength evident even in the way she holds herself.

The first thing you notice is how she's completely unapproachable, the natural aura of violence that wraps around her as tightly as the red poncho draped over her shoulders. You almost feel sorry for the fact that she's been stuck with someone like you. You're just a recruit, fresh off the streets, trying to earn your place. You can already tell she doesn't want you here.

"I don't need a damn assistant," Sevika spits, her voice like gravel scraping against metal. Her tone cuts through the heavy air, sharp and immediate. "So don't get any ideas. Just stay out of my way."

You can't help but smile—soft, almost out of place. It's your natural instinct to meet coldness with kindness, even if it seems pointless. You've always believed that if you show warmth to the right people, maybe you'll get something back in return. But Sevika? She's a brick wall. Her sharp eyes narrow, assessing you as if you were a problem she needed to solve.

"Yeah, whatever," she mutters, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. "Don't make me regret this."

You follow her closely as she turns, stepping with heavy purpose down the grimy streets of Zaun, her boots clicking against the ground in rhythm with the pounding of your heart. Despite the tension crackling between you, you do your best to keep your tone light. "I just want to help. I can handle whatever you need."

Sevika doesn't respond. Instead, her eyes stay fixed ahead, ignoring you completely. The silence between you feels suffocating, but you persist. "I know it might not seem like it, but I'm here to learn. I'm not looking to get in your way, I promise."

Her scowl deepens. "Then keep your mouth shut, and maybe I'll consider it," she growls. Her voice is low, a constant hum of irritation. But it's not just her words that make you pause. It's the way her eyes flash briefly toward you before her gaze returns to the horizon. There's something about the sharpness in those eyes, something that makes the air around you feel charged.

It's like trying to strike a spark in a cold, barren landscape. The more you try to offer, the more Sevika pushes back, her harsh words biting through your calm demeanor.

Still, you can't help but offer a small smile as you keep up with her. You've always believed in the power of kindness. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to crack through her tough exterior.

By the time you've reached your destination—a crumbling building where Silco's orders are handed down—you've managed to learn that Sevika has little patience for anything, let alone for someone who dares to try and offer kindness. You find yourself standing in the shadows as she barks out orders to a group of men, her posture demanding respect. There's an undeniable force behind her words, a presence that commands the room as much as her stature does. Her copper arm gleams under the dull lighting, the intricate mechanics of the prosthetic arm seeming almost alien in the harsh, industrial environment.

You're not sure why you still persist. Maybe it's because something about Sevika's rugged exterior, her unrelenting loyalty, and the way she carries herself pulls at you. Or maybe it's the fact that you can see through her cold exterior—there's more beneath the surface, and you're determined to figure it out.

As the hours drag on, the work piles up. It's hard, grueling, and entirely mundane, but you keep at it, offering help when needed, sticking close to her side. There's something about Sevika's quiet, controlled rage that fascinates you. The way she moves, the way she handles everything—each gesture calculated and efficient—reminds you of a well-oiled machine. But machines don't need kindness. People do.

Sevika finally throws you a glance as you hand her a cup of tea, carefully prepared just the way you think she might like it. She takes it from your hand with a grumble, muttering something under her breath about unnecessary gestures, but you know you've won a small victory.

She doesn't throw the cup at you. She drinks it instead, in silence.

The longer you stand beside her, the more her icy exterior seems to thaw—if only just slightly. You notice the subtle shifts in her posture when you speak, the way her lips curve in the briefest of smiles, though she quickly hides it behind her usual scowl.

"Stop smiling at me like that," she growls, her voice softer than before, yet still biting. "It's fucking irritating."

But you don't stop. In fact, you make it your mission to be even kinder, to offer more help, to make her realize that you're not a threat, that you're not here to steal her spotlight, but to be part of the team.

Later, when the day's work is done, Sevika's frustration with you seems to grow. She's angry, but it's not the same anger she directs at the people she dislikes. This one is different. It's more internal, a tension she can't shake, like you're pushing a button deep inside her. She doesn't understand it, and it only makes her hate you more.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this?" she asks, her voice rough with something unreadable. "You think your smile will make this any easier? You think I care about your little act of kindness?"

You stand your ground, though your heart beats faster. "Maybe I'm just trying to help."

Sevika scoffs, but it's not as cutting as before. She glances at you once more, her gaze unreadable, and for a second, it's almost like she's looking at you, really looking at you, for the first time.

"You're wasting your time," she mutters, her tone almost tired.

But when she turns away, there's a slight shift in her movements, an imperceptible change in the way she carries herself. You're not sure if she's getting used to you, or if she's just too exhausted to push you away anymore. But the more she resists, the more determined you become.

In the quiet aftermath of a long day, Sevika lingers at the edge of your vision. She's still rough around the edges, her anger still a flame that burns bright, but there's a small part of her that's starting to crack.

You can see it. She can't hide it from you forever.

And that's when it hits you—despite her constant grumbling, despite her sharp words and cold silences, you're not just an annoyance to her. You're a challenge. One she can't seem to escape.

As Sevika walks away, her prosthetic arm catching the light in a way that makes her seem even more formidable, you smile softly to yourself.

You won't give up on her.

The weight of Zaun hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of oil, decay, and danger. The city is a constant, humming machine of chaos and violence, a place where only the strongest survive. And you? You're still trying to prove yourself, trying to make your place known in Silco's ranks. But standing next to Sevika, as always, feels like a constant struggle.

Her presence is like an impenetrable wall of steel—intimidating, unyielding, and cold. Every time you speak to her, it's like your words just bounce off her, sliding into the abyss where they're quickly forgotten. But you're not deterred. You can't be. Her icy demeanor is nothing new. What is new, however, is the way you can't seem to stop smiling at her. Even when she glares at you like she's about to snap your neck, there's something in you that refuses to back down, refuses to let her coldness defeat you.

And it's that same smile you offer her now as the two of you walk through the dark, abandoned streets, on a mission to secure a deal with another faction. You've learned by now that Sevika doesn't deal well with pleasantries, doesn't like the niceties most people in Silco's empire try to pretend at. She's raw, blunt, a woman who cuts to the heart of the matter without hesitation. But despite her sharp words and colder gaze, you remain the same—cheerful, optimistic, and unnervingly kind.

"Quit looking at me like that," Sevika growls, her voice low and gravelly as her grey eyes flick to you. Her gaze pierces through you, as if she's trying to burn holes into your skin. The low hum of her prosthetic arm moving against the fabric of her sleeve is a constant reminder of her strength, her sharpness, and the danger she can unleash with a single movement.

"Like what?" you ask, genuinely curious, despite knowing the answer. You can feel her irritation like a thick cloud around her, but it doesn't deter you. Not today.

"Like you think I'm some sort of charity case," she snaps, the muscles in her neck tensing as her jaw clenches. "If you think you can win me over with your fake little smiles, you're sorely mistaken."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes in the alleyway ahead. A low hiss of tension fills the air, and instinctively, you tense up, your eyes scanning the shadows.

Sevika's hand immediately goes to the grip of her weapon, her fingers flexing in anticipation. You've seen her in action before—the way she moves, the way her presence fills a room with both fear and respect. But this? This is different. She's on edge, and that makes you on edge too.

"Stay behind me," Sevika orders, her voice a low command as she steps forward, her posture suddenly coiled with dangerous intent. Her left prosthetic arm gleams under the dim light, the cracked blue and purple veins in her skin pulsing faintly beneath the surface. She looks like a force of nature, ready to strike at any moment.

You don't argue. You've learned by now that arguing with Sevika is a pointless endeavor. Instead, you keep your head down, staying close to her as the two of you advance. But as you round the corner, you don't expect what happens next.

Gunshots echo through the alley, and in an instant, you're caught off guard. A burst of shrapnel flies toward you, the sound of the blast ringing in your ears, and before you even have time to react, a sharp pain explodes in your side. The world tilts on its axis as you stumble, your knees buckling under you as you fall hard against the cold, unforgiving ground.

Your breath hitches, the shock of the attack leaving your limbs weak. Blood starts to pool beneath you, and panic surges in your chest. You're not sure how bad it is, but you know you're hurt. You're not sure if you can stand again.

Sevika doesn't hesitate. She spins around with the speed of a predator, her metallic prosthetic arm coming down with the force of a battering ram. The gunmen are taken down quickly, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground, but you're not focused on them. You're focused on the sharp, burning pain in your side, the fear creeping in that you might not be able to move.

She doesn't see it at first. She's too caught up in the immediate danger of taking out the rival faction. But when she turns back to look for you, that's when she sees it.

Your hand is pressed tightly against your side, blood seeping between your fingers as you struggle to stay conscious. The shock is setting in, your head spinning, your vision blurring around the edges.

For a moment, Sevika's eyes narrow, her face unreadable as she assesses the situation. The emotions in her eyes flash too quickly to read—fury, disbelief, and something else you can't place. Her lip curls, the usual scowl deepening, but she doesn't turn away.

You try to force yourself up, to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Your legs shake, and you collapse back onto the cold concrete, gasping for breath.

Sevika swears under her breath, her brow furrowing in a rare display of concern. Her prosthetic arm shifts, clicking with the precision of machinery as she strides toward you, her pace quickening, her boots slamming against the ground.

"You're fucking useless," she mutters under her breath, the words as harsh as ever. But when she kneels beside you, there's a hint of something else in her voice—a softness that's quickly masked by her usual cold exterior. "Stay down."

Before you can say anything, she's already tearing off a piece of her red poncho, using it to staunch the bleeding. Her hands are surprisingly gentle as she presses the cloth against your wound, her fingers rough from years of fighting but oddly careful in their touch.

"You better not fucking die on me," she grumbles, though her voice lacks its usual bite. "I don't need another person I have to drag around."

You can feel her frustration radiating off of her, but there's something else beneath it, something that tugs at the very core of you. She's trying to save you. Despite the way she treats you, despite how cold and distant she's always been, there's a flicker of something deeper in her actions—a recognition, maybe, of your sacrifice for her.

You offer her a weak smile, the corners of your lips pulling up despite the pain. "I'm not going anywhere, Sevika," you say, your voice hoarse but steady.

She freezes, her hand pressing down harder on the wound. The faint glow of purple lights up her eyes for a split second as she injects shimmer into her bloodstream. It makes her scarred veins pulsate, the colors glowing brighter, but it's the softening of her gaze that you notice first.

"Don't make me regret this," she mutters, but it doesn't feel like an insult. It feels more like an acknowledgment of something she doesn't want to face. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that she quickly hides behind her usual hard shell. She doesn't want to care. She can't afford to.

But she's already made the choice.

When she pulls you into her arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you're nothing more than a weightless bundle, you feel the odd warmth of her body against yours. The clash of her cold demeanor and this rare moment of tenderness sends a shock through you, a realization that perhaps she's not as immune to kindness as she makes herself out to be.

As the two of you make your way back to safety, Sevika's hand never leaves the cloth pressed against your side. She's steady, unyielding, and yet... there's something in the way she holds you now, something that wasn't there before.

You know she won't admit it. She can't. But for the first time, you see a crack in her armor.

And you can't help but smile, despite everything.

She's still the same Sevika, tough as nails, unrelenting, but underneath it all? You're starting to see that she's capable of something more.

You won't stop smiling—not even for her.

It's the middle of the night, and you're wide awake, groaning softly as you try to adjust your position on the bed. The wound on your side, though healing, hasn't quite been fully stitched up yet, and tonight, it seems, it's decided to protest. The dull ache from earlier has turned into something sharper, something more insistent, as you shift again and feel the sting of stitches pulling loose.

You sit up, pressing a hand to the wound, biting your lip as the pain spreads. Damn it, you can't let this go unchecked. The medic has already gone home for the night, and the last thing you want to do is try to deal with it on your own. You've only been out of the infirmary for a few days, but you know that if you don't do something about it, you could risk making things worse.

So, you do the only thing that comes to mind: you go find Sevika.

She's always there when things get rough, even when she doesn't want to be. Whether she likes it or not, you're stuck with her. So, you pull on a loose shirt, the fabric brushing against your skin, and you make your way toward her quarters in the heart of Zaun's underground complex.

The hallways are quiet, and the dim light overhead casts long shadows across the stone walls. You hesitate for a moment, the familiar nervousness creeping up your spine. What if she's not in the mood for this? What if she snaps at you, tells you to figure it out yourself? But you push the thought aside, biting your lip and walking with more determination toward her door.

You knock twice, a hesitant but firm tap. The response comes quickly—a grunt followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side. The door creaks open, revealing Sevika in nothing but her sleeveless top, her metallic prosthetic arm gleaming faintly in the dim light. She's standing there, as imposing as ever, eyes narrowing when she sees you.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice is rough, like gravel grinding underfoot, but there's an edge of concern in her gaze that she doesn't bother to hide.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the wound on your side still aching painfully. "I—uh, I think my stitches came undone." You gesture weakly to your side, a little embarrassed that you've come to her for something like this. "I need help."

Sevika's brow furrows, and before you can say anything else, she steps aside, ushering you in with a sharp, "Get in here."

You hesitate, but the pain is still there, gnawing at you. You wince as you step inside her quarters, and the familiar scent of leather, metal, and the faint, earthy smell of Zaunite air fills your senses. Sevika's space is sparse, functional—a bed, a few chairs, some scattered tools, and a small table with a few half-drunk bottles of something strong.

She gestures for you to sit on the edge of her bed, the sheets slightly askew, but she doesn't seem to care about the mess. You sit carefully, lifting your shirt to reveal the bandages around your side, only to wince again when the motion tugs on the wound.

Sevika doesn't say anything, just walks to the small table and grabs some fresh gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a few tools. You notice the way her gaze flicks to your side, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Don't just sit there like a damn idiot," she mutters, her voice unusually soft as she crosses the room, "Take that shirt off. You're making it harder for me."

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth, even though you try to hide it. You've never been this close to Sevika before, especially not in this context. Her usual scowl is softened, but there's an undeniable hardness to her presence, making your pulse quicken.

You take a deep breath and pull the shirt off, revealing your bandaged side and the remnants of your wound. You're left in just your bra, feeling a little exposed, but you try to push the nervousness down. Sevika doesn't seem to care at all about your state of undress. Her attention is entirely on you, her sharp eyes scanning the injury as she leans over.

The air feels suddenly thick with an intensity you haven't noticed before. Her movements are methodical, but there's an odd tenderness in the way she handles the gauze and the bandages, even though her touch remains firm and practical. When she leans in closer, you can feel the heat of her body as she works on your side, her breath brushing against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room is filled only with the sounds of Sevika's breath and the faint click of her prosthetic arm as she moves. You focus on trying to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hold still," she orders in a low voice, and you comply, not trusting your words to come out steady.

She works in silence, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her fingers are gentle as she adjusts the bandages, her calloused hands brushing against your skin every so often. You can feel her eyes on you, though she doesn't look up. The soft touch of her hands against your skin is a stark contrast to her usual coldness, and you can't help the way your stomach flips at the intimacy of it all.

When she finishes, she steps back slightly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she clears her throat. "There. That should hold for now. Don't make me do this again."

You glance up at her, catching the faintest hint of something soft in her grey eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. She's back to her usual self—stoic, guarded, but there's still that unspoken understanding between the two of you.

"Thanks," you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the vulnerability of the moment. "I really appreciate it."

Sevika rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she tosses the supplies onto the table and walks back to the chair in the corner, leaning back with her arms crossed. "You're welcome," she mutters, sounding almost gruff, but there's a softness in her tone that wasn't there before.

You glance at her, a small, teasing smile creeping across your face. "You sure you're not going to throw me out now that you've seen me in my bra?"

Her eyes flick to you, the faintest spark of irritation flickering before she grunts. "Don't get any funny ideas, alright? This doesn't change anything."

You smile at her, watching her try to keep up her tough exterior. It's the first time you've ever been this close to her in this way, and you can't help but feel a sense of warmth that spreads through your chest.

"Sure, Sevika," you say softly, "whatever you say."

Sevika doesn't answer, but as she watches you, her lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, just for a fraction of a second.

You never quite get used to the sight of Sevika after a mission gone wrong. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen her come back battered and bruised, bloodied and bruised, a quiet part of you always hopes the next time won't be as bad. But it's always worse. Each time she walks in with a limp, a scowl, and that dark gleam in her eyes, you know it's only a matter of time before it breaks you.

And tonight, it's the worst it's been in months. Her left arm, her prosthetic, is badly damaged, sparks still crackling from the shattered circuitry as she stumbles through the door. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. The shimmer-enhanced blue and purple veins pulse under her skin, glowing faintly in the dim light of the warehouse. The glint of her copper prosthetic, normally a symbol of her unyielding strength, now looks like a taunting reminder of the fragility that even she can't escape.

You feel your chest tighten as you rush to her side, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her.

"Shit," Sevika mutters, her voice rough from the effort it takes to stand. "I'm fine. I don't need your help." But her words lack the usual bite. They're hollow, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

You ignore her, not caring about the gruff tone or the coldness that oozes from every word. You've seen it before—the way she hides behind that wall of indifference, masking the cracks with bravado. But tonight, there's something different. Her guard is slipping. Maybe it's the injury, maybe it's something else, but for once, she's not pushing you away.

Her heavy, labored steps are slow as you help her to the nearest chair, your hands steady as you guide her down. She winces as her weight shifts onto the seat, the strain evident in the furrow of her brow and the clenched jaw.

You sit beside her, your eyes tracing the damage to her arm, the shimmer scars that mar her skin. Your stomach knots. She's always been tough, but this time, there's a vulnerability to her that you've never seen before.

"You need to rest," you say gently, your voice softer than you intended. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. It's okay to take a break, Sevika."

She snorts, her usual sharpness returning, but it's forced. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," you insist, your gaze meeting hers. "It's care. You're not invincible, Sevika. You're allowed to feel things. You don't always have to be the tough one."

Sevika's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think she's going to snap at you, throw out another biting retort, but she doesn't. Her lips curl downward, and she looks away, focusing on the floor as if the weight of your words is suddenly too heavy for her.

For a long beat, there's silence between you two. The sound of Sevika's ragged breathing fills the space, and you can hear the faint crackling of her prosthetic arm, still sparking erratically.

"Why do you always act like this?" you ask, your voice quiet but steady. "Like you're untouchable. Like you don't need anyone."

Sevika's shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightening, but you don't let her retreat into herself this time. You place a hand gently on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the cool metal of her prosthetic. Her gaze flicks to your hand, and for a moment, you think she'll pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, her breath hitches, and she stares at you as if seeing you for the first time.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice cracks, a sharp edge to it. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

You lean closer, your eyes softening as you study her face. The harshness of her features, the furrow in her brow, the tightness around her eyes—all of it is a mask. A mask she's been wearing for years, hiding the truth underneath.

"I don't want anything from you, Sevika," you say, your voice soft but firm. "I just want you to stop pretending you don't need help. Stop pretending you don't need someone who cares about you. You're not weak because you need someone. You're human."

Sevika's eyes flash with something—anger, fear, uncertainty—before she looks away, her fingers tightening around the edge of her prosthetic. "I don't need anyone," she mutters, though it sounds more like a plea than a statement.

You shake your head. "You do. And I'm here. You're not in this alone."

Her gaze flickers back to you, her expression conflicted. You see the war in her eyes—the part of her that wants to let go, to accept your care, and the part of her that's terrified of doing so. You know she's been through hell, fought battles that no one should have to face, and survived in a world that doesn't give a damn about her. But you also know there's more to her than the walls she's built.

The silence between you both grows heavier, but instead of pulling away, you stay. You let the quiet linger, giving her space to process the unspoken things hanging in the air.

Sevika exhales sharply, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "You think I'm just some cold-hearted bitch who doesn't care about anything. But you don't know...you don't know what it's like. To care. To have someone depend on you and then—" She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the floor. "It hurts, alright?"

You don't say anything right away. You just listen. Because it's the first time she's admitted that. The first time she's let someone see the cracks in her armor.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "You don't have to be perfect. Not for me. Not for anyone. I'm here. Let me help."

There's a long pause, but eventually, Sevika lifts her gaze to meet yours. Her eyes are dark, but there's something different there now. Something softer, less guarded. She blinks, the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipating.

"You really are ridiculous, you know that?" she says with a faint smile, but it's not mocking. There's something genuine about it. "You don't know when to quit."

"No," you reply with a small grin, "I don't."

She sighs, the weight of the moment finally sinking in. "You're right," she mutters, almost to herself. "I'm not good at this. At...letting people in."

"I know," you say, reaching out and placing your hand over hers. "But you don't have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. Just...let me be here for you. When you need it."

Sevika's eyes flicker down to your hand, her thumb brushing over your skin, and for the briefest moment, it feels like the world pauses. The connection between you two is palpable now, not just a shared silence, but something deeper. Something that neither of you can ignore.

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile before she leans forward, her face inches from yours. "You're not like anyone I've met before," she murmurs, her voice low and rough. "And that's...frustrating."

"Why?" you whisper, barely able to keep the distance between you two.

"Because you make it hard to be a cold-hearted bitch," Sevika says, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and something else you can't quite place.

Without another word, you close the distance. Your lips meet hers in a kiss that's soft, tentative at first, but soon deepens as the tension between you two finally gives way. The kiss is slow, exploring, each touch of your lips against hers a silent promise, a moment of vulnerability shared between two people who have spent so long hiding from each other.

When you finally pull away, Sevika rests her forehead against yours, breathing heavily. There's no more need for words between you two. The connection is enough.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika lets herself feel what she's been hiding, and you, quietly, let her.

I loveeeee the teacher stuff so much 💗 can i get w/ karlach, minthy, and the boys something with them being university professors and theres a bit of tension between you and them. perhaps you guys accidentally hooked up outside of class and now you want more but they are trying to stay professional??? love you miss seluney and thanks 🙏

thank you so much for blessing my inbox with this ask, love you too nonnie x the amount of research I had to do though for Astarion's was actually so funny

Karlach:

Karlach, or rather Dr Cliffgate, was avoiding you.

Not in the obvious, skittish way that most people avoided their problems, but in the way that made you aware of it. A way that made it obvious that she was trying not to avoid you, but also definitely was. Like how she never met your eye for longer than two seconds, or how she’d always position herself on the opposite end of the class, barking instructions from a distance.

And, of course, there was the rule.

"Five feet. I want five goddamn feet between us at all times."

It was the first thing she had said to you on your first day back after that night. The night you still dreamed about, the one that made you burn with want every time you looked at her. She had been so soft with you, all muscle and warmth, guiding you through it like she was made for it. She had held you so tight, pressed kisses to every inch of your skin—how could she expect you to forget?

And she wanted to pretend it never happened?

Bullshit.

So, naturally, you decided to push.

You weren’t bad at Sports Science. In fact, you were quite decent at it—when you wanted to be. But today? Today, your squats were terrible, your push-ups were abysmal, and don’t even talk about your deadlifts. Karlach was forced to correct you, calling out every mistake in that deep, commanding voice of hers.

It was fun, watching her squirm. But Karlach, to her credit, lasted the entire class without snapping. She was firm, professional, perfectly composed. Right up until the moment she ordered you to stay behind after class.

And now, you were alone.

Karlach stood at the front of the gym, arms crossed, expression taut with frustration.

"Alright," she said, tone clipped. "What the hell was that?"

You blinked innocently. "What was what?"

Karlach groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. "You know what." She fixed you with a hard stare. "You don’t need help with your form, and I know it. So tell me—why are you acting like a dumbass all of a sudden?"

You tilted your head, stepping forward just a fraction. "Maybe I just wanted some one-on-one time with my favorite teacher."

Karlach’s jaw clenched, and she immediately stepped back, holding up a warning finger. "No. No. Stay back—five feet."

You pouted. "What if I need help with my form?"

Karlach’s eye twitched.

You took another step forward.

She took one back.

"Bad student," she warned, pointing at you like you were a misbehaving pup.

You smirked, tilting your head coyly. "You weren’t saying that last time."

Karlach froze.

Her fists clenched at her sides, a storm brewing behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut and muttered something under her breath. Probably some kind of mantra to keep her from breaking, from doing what she wanted to do. Professional. She had to be professional.

But you could see it—the way her breathing had quickened, the slight twitch of her fingers, like she was fighting every urge to grab you and push you against the nearest wall. And you were more than willing to give her that push. You took another step forward, closing the distance entirely.

"Karlach," you murmured, voice soft.

Her eyes fluttered open—just as your lips pressed against hers. The groan she let out was guttural, half frustration, half relief. She grabbed you by the waist, yanking you flush against her as her mouth crashed against yours. The heat of her burned through your clothes, her grip iron-strong as if she was afraid to let go.

"Gods, you’re a menace," she growled against your lips.

You grinned, threading your fingers through her , dark hair. "I thought I was a bad student?"

Karlach huffed a laugh before lifting you onto the gym's padded table with ease, slotting herself between your legs.

"The worst," she muttered, before kissing you again.

Minthara:

Minthara was a strict professor.

She ran her Toxicology lectures with the precision of a battlefield commander, brooking no nonsense, no laziness, and certainly no stupidity. And normally, you were an exceptional student. One of her best, even.

Which is exactly why, when you deliberately screwed up your latest lab analysis, she had wasted no time in ordering you to stay behind after class. Now, you were seated in her office, watching as she paced behind her desk, ruby eyes blazing with frustration.

"Tell me," she said, voice sharp as a dagger's edge, "are you trying to be a disappointment? Or has your intelligence simply abandoned you?"

You bit back a smirk, watching the way her lips curled in distaste, the way her fingers flexed in restrained irritation. Gods, she was beautiful when she was mad.

"And look at you," she continued, exasperated. "Not even paying attention. Are you listening to me, or am I wasting my breath?"

You tilted your head, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. "Oh, no, I'm listening, professor. Please—keep going."

Minthara paused. Her sharp mind caught on instantly, her ruby eyes narrowing as she studied your expression. The slight flush on your cheeks, the way you were watching her—intently, hungry. And suddenly, she understood.

"You like it," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "You like being scolded."

You grinned. "What can I say? You do it so well."

Minthara let out a slow, measured exhale, her nails tapping against the desk. "And what exactly am I meant to do with this information?"

You hummed, standing to your feet and sauntering forward until you were pressed against her desk. You leaned over it, propping yourself up on your elbows, your face mere inches from hers.

"Well," you mused, eyes alight with mischief. "You could always bring back some corporal punishment."

Minthara arched a brow. You smirked, tilting your head.

"Bring out the wooden ruler for a spanking." And then, to drive the point home, you slowly bent over the desk, resting your forearms against the polished wood. "What do you think, professor? Will that finally get through to me?"

Silence. Then—Minthara let out a deep, shuddering sigh, as if she were trying to summon every ounce of restraint she had left. And then, in a blur of movement, her hands were on you.

One gripping your waist, the other fisting into your hair as she dragged you up and crushed her lips against yours. The kiss was fierce, searing, a collision of teeth and tongue as she stole the very breath from your lungs.

"You," she growled between kisses, her grip tightening. "Are insufferable."

You grinned. "You weren’t saying that last time."

"Oh I think I was," Minthara’s grip tightened, eyes darkening as she pushed you back against the desk.

That one night. That reckless night. When you had been nothing more than strangers who had both, separately, decided to drink too much at a bar on the outskirts of town. She had been furious then, too—drunk, loose-lipped, and entirely unbothered by her usual air of control. You remembered the way she had pinned you against the wall of her rented room, how she had devoured you like a woman starved. And now, here, in the dimly lit confines of her office, she looked exactly as she had that night—eyes dark with want, expression hard with something that neither of you had dared to put words to.

Minthara muttered something in her native tongue—something that sounded distinctly like a curse—before pulling back just enough to reach for the wooden ruler on her desk.

"Perhaps it’s time," she murmured, voice like velvet and steel, "that I put you back in line."

And gods, you had never been more willing.

Gale:

Gale Dekarios was desperately trying to pretend that he hadn’t spent a night tangled in your sheets, gasping your name like a prayer, and utterly forgetting that he was supposed to be a responsible, professional figure in your academic life.

It was almost admirable, how steadfastly he kept his focus on the pitiful essay you had placed before him. His brow furrowed in exaggerated concern, fingers tapping against the edges of the paper as he sighed, long and heavy, like he was genuinely distressed by how abysmally incorrect your star charts were.

He was not fooling anyone.

“This is…” He exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple with two fingers. “This is not your best work.”

You hummed, leaning forward in your seat, chin propped up in your palm as you watched him intently.

“I think you are right, and I think I know why,” you mused. “I have been feeling rather… unsatisfied lately.”

Gale’s shoulders visibly tensed. He cleared his throat, choosing—rather wisely—not to acknowledge the deliberate edge to your voice. “Is there a reason you’ve been so distracted? It’s not like you to be so careless in your calculations.”

You sighed, stretching languidly in your seat. “I suppose I’ve just been in real need of some stress relief.”

Gale’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the page.

You watched him carefully, admiring the way his jaw clenched, how his eyes flickered—just for a moment—to where you sat before quickly snapping back to your disastrous work. It was clear that he was actively wrestling with himself, forcing his mind to stay on track, but oh, he was doing such a poor job of it.

“I—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to clear it again before speaking. “I can refer you to student services for well-being if you’re struggling with academic pressure.”

You smiled, slow and deliberate, rising from your chair.

“Is that all you can do for me, professor?” The way his breath hitched did delightful things to your ego.

He held his ground as you circled his desk, though you could see his fingers twitch against the paper, as if debating whether he should shove it into your hands and send you on your way. Instead, he straightened, schooling his features into something carefully neutral as you came to stand before him.

“I would strongly advise you to remain professional,” he said, voice measured, though you could hear the strain beneath it. You ignored him.

"Your tie’s looking a little loose, professor," you noted, gaze flickering down to where it hung slightly askew. "Let me fix it for you."

Gale opened his mouth, possibly to protest, possibly to attempt another weak defense, but he never got the chance. Because the moment your fingers brushed against his tie, he snapped.

One second, you were teasing him; the next, you were being yanked down into his lap, your breath stolen as his lips crashed against yours. His hands were firm on your waist, gripping like he was starved for the feeling of you, like he had spent every waking moment since that night thinking about how you had felt beneath him—how you had moaned for him.

He kissed you fiercely, hungrily, all pretenses of professionalism abandoned as he angled his head, deepening it with a groan that rumbled in his chest. One of his hands moved up, threading into your hair, tilting your head to his liking as he took control of the kiss.

And gods, you let him.

Because for all his self-restraint, all his desperate attempts to ignore what had happened between you, Gale Dekarios was a weak, weak man.

And you were more than happy to remind him of it.

Astarion:

Astarion’s lip curled as he held your latest project between his fingers, tilting his head as if it might suddenly reveal some hidden brilliance from a different angle. It did not. With a dramatic sigh, he let it drop onto his desk like it offended him.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, tapping his manicured fingers against the wood. “Perhaps if you didn’t spend so much time gallivanting, you could produce something half-decent. But alas, it seems someone has their priorities hopelessly skewed.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the desk. “Oh please. The same could be said for you, professor. That is, after all, how we both ended up in that passionate predicament—”

Astarion immediately cut you off, talking over you with ease. “Yes, yes, I vaguely recall that debacle. But do you know what I’d much rather discuss?” He gave you a pointed look, lifting a perfectly arched brow. “Your abysmal stitch work. Truly, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seam ripper than endure looking at this for another second.”

You grinned, unfazed. His gaze flickered over you, from the crisp lines of your shirt to the neatly finished seams. Then, to your surprise, he huffed an amused laugh.

“The top you’re wearing now is an example of perfect tailoring,” he admitted, gesturing vaguely. “Proper dart placement, clean finishing—though the sleeve cap could use some refinement.”

You smiled at him, slow and knowing.

“Good to know,” you mused. “I made it myself.”

Astarion blinked.

You stepped closer, holding out your arm and tugging at the sleeve slightly, showing off the intricate seams. His sharp eyes honed in immediately, his fingers instinctively twitching, unable to resist assessing it more closely.

“Hm,” he hummed, inspecting. “Not terrible.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, undoing the first button of your shirt. “What would you have done differently?”

Astarion barely reacted, too focused on the fabric itself. “I would have—wait, what are you doing?” His gaze flicked up as you popped open another button, then another, exposing the curves of your collarbones, the slope of your shoulders.

“Just giving you a better look,” you teased.

Astarion narrowed his eyes, his voice clipped. “Don’t you dare—”

You pulled the shirt off entirely. Astarion scrambled, eyes widening as he lunged forward, grabbing the discarded fabric and shoving it against your bare chest with an indignant noise.

“Are you insane?!” He hissed, pressing you flush against the desk in an attempt to shield your exposed skin. “This is not how a critique session works, darling—!”

You ignored him, hooking your fingers into the collar of his shirt and yanking him down, capturing his lips with yours. Astarion made a noise of protest—one that quickly turned into a needy sound as he melted into you.

The moment you pulled away, breathless and grinning, you traced a finger down the front of his neatly tailored shirt.

“Excellent inseaming,” you murmured appreciatively. Astarion let out a sharp, exasperated laugh, shaking his head.

“Gods, shut up,” he muttered before pulling you in and kissing you again, fiercer this time, like he was trying to sew himself into you.

Wyll:

Wyll sat behind his desk, your latest essay held between his fingers like it was something fragile, something unfamiliar. His brows were furrowed in a way that made his usual calm, disciplined demeanor seem almost troubled.

"I had some concerns about this," he said, tapping the parchment lightly. "Your writing is usually concise, structured, and critical. And yet this—" He lifted it slightly before setting it down again. "This is filled with… whimsy."

You tilted your head at him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"What's wrong with whimsy?" you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Wyll exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to keep himself composed. He had been doing that a lot since that night. The night where he had held your hips so tightly, pulled your body against his like a man starved, whispered things that should never leave a professor’s lips. The night that haunted his thoughts ever since.

But he was professional. Ethical. Disciplined. Or at least, he was trying to be.

He cleared his throat. "Whimsy, in itself, is not inherently wrong," he said carefully, sitting up straighter. "But philosophy demands clarity, structure, a foundation—"

You stepped forward. Just a little.

Wyll noticed immediately. His jaw tensed, but he carried on, unwavering. "—and while creative exploration is welcome, this lacks the critical analysis that I know you are more than capable of—"

Another step.

Wyll paused mid-sentence as you leaned in over his desk, as if to examine your paper more closely. It was a weak excuse—you knew what was in that essay, but the proximity gave you reason enough to invade his personal space.

Wyll sighed through his nose, jaw tightening further. "I know what you're doing."

You blinked at him innocently. "What ever do you mean?"

His fingers curled into his palm. He had already given you multiple warnings since that fateful one-night stand. Told you this was improper, inappropriate. Told himself that it couldn’t happen again. And yet, here you were. Again. Testing him. Pushing him.

It was wrong. He taught ethics, for gods' sake.

But all he wanted—all he wanted—was for you to straddle him in this office chair and ride him until the wheels broke.

Wyll forced himself back into reality, blinking rapidly. That was when he realized—

Your hand was on his thigh.

His body reacted before his mind could, heat rushing to his face. You gasped as if you were scandalized by his sudden flush.

"Professor Ravengard," you murmured, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. "You're burning up."

His lips parted slightly, a weak protest forming—but then you dragged your hand down, tracing his cheek, cradling it gently.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly.

Wyll closed his eyes briefly, exhaling as if that would dispel the tension that had thickened the air between you. Then, he shook his head.

You smiled, your thumb brushing over his jaw. "I didn't think so."

You leaned in. Just close enough that he could feel your breath against his lips.

You could have kissed him. You wanted to kiss him. But you waited. You wanted him to come to you.

And oh, he did.

Wyll surged forward, his lips crashing into yours, his hands gripping your waist as if he had finally let go of every restraint that had been holding him back. The kiss was rough, needy, filled with every ounce of frustration and desire he had bottled up since that night.

They could debate the ethics of this later.

Halsin:

Halsin sat behind his desk, broad arms folded across his chest, his usual calm expression schooled into something unreadable. He had known this was coming. He had felt your eyes on him in class, the way you tilted your head when he spoke, the way your lips had quirked up into something just shy of teasing. He had ignored it. He had forced himself to pretend that nothing had happened between you that night—the one that still haunted his thoughts no matter how much he tried to suppress it.

But now, here you were, standing in the doorway of his office, as if fate itself was determined to test his restraint.

"Professor," you said sweetly, stepping inside. "I had some questions about today’s lecture."

Halsin arched a brow. "Did you, now?"

You nodded, stepping closer, taking the chair opposite his desk. "Yes, I found the discussion on mating seasons quite fascinating."

Halsin exhaled slowly. He knew where this was going. He had seen the glint in your eye, the way you played innocent far too well. But he was a professional. He was your professor.

So he sighed and leaned back, arms still crossed. "Ask away."

You smiled, tilting your head as if considering your words. "I was just wondering… how does an animal know when they've found the right mate? Is it purely instinct, or is there more to it?"

Halsin clenched his jaw.

"That depends on the species," he said carefully, his voice even. "Some rely on visual cues, others on scent—pheromones play a strong role in attraction, signaling compatibility and readiness to breed."

You hummed thoughtfully, fingers tapping against your chin. "So… they don't really have control over it? It's just primal instinct?"

Halsin took a deep breath, his large hands flexing against the arms of his chair. He had dealt with plenty of difficult situations in his life. He had faced wild beasts, braved the deepest parts of nature. But this? This was an entirely different kind of challenge.

"Instinct is powerful," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But control is what separates us from the animals."

Your lips curved into something wicked. "Is that so?"

He should have ended it there. Should have told you to leave, should have maintained the boundaries that were already far too blurred. But instead, he sat there, watching the way you looked at him with those knowing, hungry eyes—eyes that had once looked up at him from beneath tangled sheets, from between parted lips whispering his name.

You pushed back from the desk and stood, stretching ever so slightly before turning towards the door.

"Well, thank you for the lesson, professor," you said lightly, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the exit.

And then—

The last thread of his restraint snapped.

One second, you were reaching for the doorknob, and the next, you were yanked back, lifted effortlessly off your feet as Halsin turned you and pressed you against the wall, his large hands gripping your thighs, caging you in.

"Halsin—"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish, hot and demanding, all of his carefully controlled patience finally, finally breaking into something raw and consuming. You gasped against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you with the kind of intensity that made your head spin.

"What kind of professor would I be," he murmured against your mouth, voice rough, "if I didn't give you a live demonstration?"

Your breath hitched, and then you were kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands roaming over broad shoulders, feeling the raw strength beneath his clothes.

Maybe you had been the one to set the trap.

But Halsin had always been a creature of instinct.

Was I just listening to reproduction from Grease 2 and when I kissed the teacher on repeat when I was writing this? Yes, yes I was. I'm putting Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Rolan, Raphael and Mizora on a list of things I want to write when requests are done with this prompt. I just cannot get enough of it. Hope you guys enjoyed it and if anything was inaccurate subject wise... shhhhhh-Seluney xox

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