BG3: Reader Is Kidnapped/Tortured

Obedient Pups

Sevika x Ambessa Medarda x Ran x Reader

Contains smut, foursome, submissive!Sevika, biting, strap, oral, fingering, pet names, groping, squirting.

Sevika and Ambessa merely seemed to be tolerating each other, but hey, a woman needs to get the stress out. And with the way things had been, Sevika didn't want to go to the brothel. No, because for once she wanted to be the one to be fucked. This wasn't Sevika's ideal situation, in fact, she'd never been in this kind of a situation. Sevika cussed under her breath, “Mhm? What was that?” Ambessa asked her, voice low as she fucked into Sevika with the huge strap. It was dark red in color, squelching as it went in and out of Sevika's tight hole. “Fuck,” Sevika bit down onto Ambessa's shoulder as she tightened around the strap.

Ambessa let out a low, amused hum, her large hand gripping Sevika’s thigh to keep her in place. “Tight little thing, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice husky and thick with satisfaction. Each thrust was deliberate, punishing, the sound of skin against skin echoing off the stone walls of the dim room. Sevika clenched her jaw, pride clashing with the overwhelming sensation coursing through her body.

“Don’t get cocky,” Sevika growled, though the tremor in her voice betrayed the way her legs had started to shake.

“Oh?” Ambessa leaned down, lips brushing Sevika’s ear. “Then stop moaning like that.”

Sevika hissed through her teeth, fingers digging into Ambessa’s back hard enough to leave crescent marks. The stretch was brutal, the pace relentless, and Sevika’s body betrayed her at every turn — the slick sound of her arousal only spurring Ambessa on.

“Thought you wanted to be used,” Ambessa purred, nipping at Sevika’s jaw. “Don’t go soft on me now.”

“Harder,” Sevika rasped, eyes wild. “If you’re gonna fuck me, then fucking do it.”

Ambessa grinned like a wolf before slamming into her deeper, hand now moving to wrap around Sevika’s throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes flutter. Sevika's growl turned into a choked moan, the strap dragging against that spot just right, making her arch and shudder beneath the warlord’s weight.

“Good girl,” Ambessa muttered, dark and low. Sevika wanted to cry out in pleasure but she'd rather be edged for hours than give that satisfaction to Ambessa.

“Fuck you.” She said with each thrust but she couldn't deny the heights of pleasure Ambessa could push her to. Just as Sevika's pussy clenched around the strap, readying for a well-deserved orgasm, the door burst open.

A very flustered Ran stood there at the doorway, pale cheeks instantly reddening, “I'm so terribly sorry,” they said slowly, frozen in place.

Ambessa's golden eyes flicked over to them, reaching out a hand. Her big hand closed around Ran's wrist and they were pulled inside too. Ran’s eyes were wide as Ambessa pushed some of their black locks to the side to examine their face, “It just so happens all of Silco’s workers are… pretty.” Ambessa paused. “Go close the door, Sevika,” Ambessa said, taking the strap out of her violated hole with a shclik.

Sevika, the probably most humiliated one amongst all, got up and walked to the door with wobbly legs, but she tried her best to not let it show.

Ran stared after Sevika's naked form, gawking at her as if the latter hadn't ever seen a naked woman.

Sevika slammed the door shut with a glare, then leaned back against it, steadying herself with a low exhale. Her thighs still trembled, her pussy pulsing in the aftershock of pleasure denied, but she kept her chin high — refusing to look as wrecked as she felt. Ambessa, still fully in control, turned her attention to Ran like they were a new plaything to examine. “You walk in on something like this,” she said, her voice honeyed but laced with danger, “You don’t get to walk out untouched.”

Ran opened their mouth maybe to protest, maybe to apologize again but the words died on their tongue when Ambessa tilted their chin up with her fingers. “What’s your name?”

“R-Ran,” they stammered, eyes darting nervously between Ambessa’s unreadable gaze and Sevika’s simmering one.

Ambessa smirked. “Cute.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of Ran’s jaw, slow and possessive. “Do you want to stay, Ran?”

Ran hesitated, heartbeat thundering in their chest. Sevika scoffed behind them, still leaning against the door, arms crossed making her breasts look plumper. “You’re already in the room, might as well stop gawking and take your clothes off.”

She walked up behind Ran and tugged their shirt off.

Ran, completely off-guard, looked at Sevika with a scandalised expression but then it melted away when Ambessa pulled them in for a kiss. Sevika worked on undressing them while Ambessa devoured their mouth, “You've been drinking.” Ambessa murmured.

“Not much, I'm sober.” Ran mumbled and given the way they were melting away already proved that.

It wasn't long until Ran ended up on their knees, eating Ambessa out nervously, tongue flicking over the older woman’s engorged clit. Ambessa guided them with a gentle hand while her other hand was busy rubbing Sevika who was on the couch beside her. “See, you both can be such obedient pups when you listen.”

Ran let out some sort of submissive whine against Ambessa's cunt, “Shhh, pet,” Ambessa forced her face deeper into her pussy, “Just keep sucking.”

The room was hot — thick with sweat, moans, and the wet sounds of submission. Sevika's head was thrown back, jaw clenched as Ambessa’s fingers circled her clit with agonizing precision. Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed, but every so often her eyes opened to watch Ran squirm between Ambessa’s legs, cheeks flushed and lips glistening.

Ambessa, ever the picture of indulgent control, sighed contently.

“That’s it,” she purred, guiding Ran’s mouth in lazy motions, her own pleasure building steadily. “Such a sweet little mouth. You're lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Ran whimpered again, more desperate this time, clearly overwhelmed but trying not to falter. Sevika, glancing down from her haze of pleasure, smirked lazily. “You’re drooling on her thighs.”

“I know,” Ran mumbled, muffled against Ambessa’s folds.

Ambessa chuckled, curling her fingers a little deeper into Sevika. “They’re eager. You could learn a thing or two, Sev.”

“Fuck off,” Sevika growled, though it came out breathless.

And then—

The door creaked open. “Ran? You in there?” Your meek voice sounded out.

All three heads turned — Ran freezing between Ambessa’s thighs, Sevika still trembling with need, and Ambessa… grinning as if she was caught mid-feast.

You stood in the doorway.

Eyes wide, lips parted, frozen at the sight in front of you: Sevika laid out on the couch, flushed and naked; Ran on their knees, mouth pressed against Ambessa’s slick cunt; and Ambessa herself, completely unfazed, her golden gaze locking with yours.

“Well, well,” she said, slow and honey-thick. “Looks like we have another guest.”

Sevika groaned, dragging a hand over her face. “Fucking hell.”

You didn’t move.

Ambessa tilted her head. “Close the door, sweetheart,” she said. “Or do you want the whole Undercity to watch?”

Your cheeks flushed more than before and you closed the door behind yourself. “Um…” you hesitantly walked over to the three of them. Ambessa dipped her fingers back into Sevika's cunt making her moan deeply. Your panties instantly dampened. Sevika reached her flesh hand to rub your crotch, “So wet, dolly.”

You moaned, grinding against Sevika's fingers, “Please… I need it,” Ambessa smirked, adding a third finger inside Sevika causing her breath to hitch.

Sevika would've cussed the other woman out but she focused on you, “Strip,” she commanded and as if under some kind of spell, your hands reached to the straps of your dress, letting your clothes pool at your feet.

Ambessa let Ran up after she finished, pulling them in for a heated kiss while Sevika pulled you into her lap. “Go ahead, finger the pretty girl,” Ambessa told Ran.

You were straddling Sevika's abs, knees on either side of her. Sevika's hands, both flesh and mechanical, came to roughly squeeze and play with your breasts as you moaned, feeling Ran's finger against your entrance. Ran glanced at Ambessa, silently seeking reassurance.

Ambessa gave them a nod, “You're doing well.”

You felt them rubbing the insides of your wall, smearing your slick all over your vulva before dipping knuckles-deep inside.

You moaned and grabbed hold of Sevika's breasts as Ran's fingers scissored inside you, Sevika reached her flesh finger to rub circles on your clit, “Feels good?”

You whimpered and nodded, Ran's fingers in your pussy, and Sevika's on your clit— you were truly in heaven. Ambessa was whispering in Ran's ear, guiding her to fuck your pussy. You gasped when Ran's fingertips brushed against your g-spot, small mewls of pleasure leaving your lips until you leaned down and kissed Sevika.

“Curl them,” Ambessa whispered and then Ran did, causing your back to arch and you squirted over Sevika's torso. Sevika smirked, watching as you finished all over her.

Ambessa stood up, “We should finish this at the Medarda Estate before anyone else walks in and joins us.”

Headcanons

Sevika x Motherly!Reader

When she says she's cold even while you're half asleep, you get up all the way to adjust the duvet so it covers her fully and sometimes even make sure she's double layered to ensure she's warm

You make her tea all the time while she's home so she doesn't get a chance to drink alcohol, although she acts annoyed about it— she knows you're just looking out for her

You clean up after her regularly and nag at her for being messy, Sevika kisses you to shut you up but the moment she pulls back you're back on your rambling

You yell at her for getting hurt but you're worried deep down, Sevika often doesn't say a lot (she knows you're worried) but she tries to reassure you that everything's alright

Sevika tries to quit smoking for you because she sees how it hurts you

Sevika sees the way you view little kids and plans on giving you some of your own once Zaun is finally in a good position, however will always refuse to speak of it

You force her to have a self care routine, Sevika thinks it's useless but oh well

You don't let her boss you around, it's quite the other way around really. Although, Sevika will get mad if that ruins her public image and you know it so you don't do that in public. Behind closed doors, shes a puppy awaiting your commands

You rub her back when she feels tense and give her a massage. Sevika enjoys it silently and barely will show verbal affection but the way she holds you close, you don't need words.

Even after you both have fights, you cut up fruits for her while she's working and shove the plate on her study desk while she's working on her mechanical arm. Sevika smirked after you leave.

Sevika likes it when you oil and massage her scalp before hair wash days. But she'd rather die than admit it— it would make her look soft.

The first time you kissed her scars and told her they were beautiful, Sevika didn't believe your words. But eventually, seeing how much you just trace and kiss them, she's come to terms with it.

You always make sure she's well-fed and ensure she's not living off of cigarettes and alcohol

Sevika is somehow good at chores and she helps you around the house during her off days. She follows you around though and won't agree to do separate chores because "you could get hurt" but you don't believe her. You just know she wants to spend time with you

You slap sense into Sevika when she is too high on Shimmer

★ — MY BLOODY VALENTINE | Ch 4

3.3ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW: Stalking, Angst, Smut, TOXIC yuri, death, murder, 1980s, mention of blood, depression, homophobia, masturbation, dub-con, size kink if you squint, mommy kink, corruption, virginity, fingering, this shit is dark - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

A/N: alright guys i really struggled with this chapter

You had barely disappeared around the corner—shoulders hunched, eyes burning, your footsteps echoing fast and uneven—when Sevika stepped out from the stairwell.

She’d seen everything.

The yelling. The tears. The way Jinx shouted those words like knives. The way everyone looked at you like you were a freak show instead of a person.

Her jaw was tight. Her fists clenched at her sides.

She was already planning it.

What she was going to say to Jinx. How far she’d have to go. Whether she could make it look like an accident.

But then—

“Um—hey.”

Sevika blinked.

A girl was standing awkwardly near her locker a few feet away. You recognized her vaguely—junior class, soft features, big glasses, sleeves too long for her arms. She was wringing the strap of her backpack like it had personally wronged her.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly, voice pitching up. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything—well, okay, I was. Kind of. But not on purpose!”

Sevika raised a brow. “Okay.”

The girl took a breath. “I was just wondering if, um, if you maybe wanted to go to the fall dance. With me. As my date.”

Silence.

Sevika blinked once. “What?”

The girl turned bright red.

“You don’t have to! I just thought—y’know, since you’re, like, really cool. And tall. And mysterious. And terrifying in kind of a sexy way—”

Behind her, two more girls peeked around the corner. One of them hissed, “Did she do it?!”

“Shut up, she’s doing it!” the other whispered.

Sevika looked past her, eyes narrowing.

There were at least four more girls across the hall blatantly staring, whispering, giggling behind their hands.

One of them had drawn a little heart on her binder with S + ? = a little doodle of a knife and a heart

“…What the fuck,” Sevika muttered under her breath.

The girl in front of her looked mortified. “I—um—I really admire your... shoulders?”

Sevika exhaled through her nose and ran a hand down her face.

“I’m busy,” she said flatly. “But… thanks?”

The girl lit up like she just got proposed to.

“Ohmygodokaycoolthankyousomuchbye!”

She scampered off, nearly tripping over her untied shoelaces as the rest of the little fan club squealed behind her and scattered like pigeons.

Sevika stood there for a moment, blinking at the empty hallway.

And muttered to herself, “This is so fucked.”

Because somehow, she was the one being stalked.

And still, the only person she wanted…

Was already slipping further away.

You ran until your lungs burned.

Away from the hallway. Away from the whispers. Away from Jinx. From everything.

You pushed open the side doors and stumbled into the courtyard, the quiet suddenly deafening after the chaos inside. The fall breeze hit your face, sharp and cold, your cheeks flushed and damp. Your chest heaved, your heart still thundering in your ears.

And then—you heard it.

A soft, frantic splashing.

Your head snapped toward the old stone fountain at the center of the courtyard. The water inside was murky from falling leaves, coins long-rusted beneath the surface.

Something small and pale flailed near the edge.

A bunny. Tiny. Soaked. Terrified.

Its fur clung to its body, ears flattened, back legs kicking helplessly as it tried to reach the ledge. You gasped and rushed over, dropping to your knees.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay, I’ve got you,” you whispered, reaching into the cold water and carefully scooping it up.

The bunny trembled in your hands, but didn’t fight.

You pulled off your jacket and wrapped it gently around the creature, cradling it like something precious. Fragile. Worth saving.

And you didn't even notice the eyes on you.

Sevika.

She stood by the edge of the courtyard, half-hidden behind the archway, watching in silence.

Her fists, once clenched in anger, were now loose at her sides.

She watched you pet the bunny’s wet head, your lips moving gently as you cooed to it. She watched you blink away tears—not for yourself, but for a tiny creature who couldn’t save itself.

And in that moment, she felt it again.

That aching pull toward you.

The way you were good. Still good.

Even in a world that chewed people up and left them hollow.

She swallowed thickly, something bitter caught in her throat.

You were soft. Bright. And she was the opposite. All edges and shadow. She’d killed. Lied. Manipulated.

She didn’t deserve you.

But she still wanted you.

She finally stepped into the courtyard fully, her boots crunching across the gravel.

You looked up, startled. “Sevika—”

Her eyes dropped to the bunny still curled in your arms, then back to you.

“I didn’t think anyone would come out here,” she said quietly.

You gave a shaky laugh. “I needed a break.”

She nodded, walking closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like you might scatter if she came too fast.

“You helped it,” she murmured, eyeing the bunny.

“Of course I did,” you said softly. “It would’ve drowned.”

She stared at you. Really stared.

You didn’t even realize you were still crying. You looked down, brushing your fingers over the bunny’s ear.

“The world needs more people like you”

Sevika looked at you like you were something she couldn’t figure out whether to touch or protect—or destroy just to keep.

And she thought: God, you don’t even realize what you’ve saved me from. Or what she was willing to do to keep you.

You sat there on the stone edge of the fountain, bunny wrapped snug in your jacket, its little chest rising and falling in tiny, panicked pants. You kept petting it gently, hoping your touch meant safety—meant life.

Sevika knelt beside you now, her elbows resting on her knees, watching you. Watching everything.

The curve of your lip when you focused. The way your thumb moved in slow, calming circles on the bunny’s fur. The faint redness in your eyes from crying.

You looked breakable.

And yet, you were the only thing in her life that felt real.

“Do you ever wonder,” Sevika said after a moment, voice low, “what people would do if they saw who you really are?”

You blinked over at her. “What?”

She didn’t look at you.

She kept her eyes on the water. The ripples left from the bunny’s panic still moved across the surface like echoes.

“If you screamed everything you ever felt in the middle of a hallway,” she continued, “told everyone your worst secrets. Who do you think would stay?”

You thought of Jinx. You thought of everyone’s faces turning. You thought of the silence.

“…I don’t know,” you said. “But it’d be nice if someone did.”

She finally looked at you. And there was something in her eyes that scared you more than the letter in your drawer or the camera in the bear.

Not anger. Not cruelty.

Devotion. The kind that swallows.

“I would,” Sevika said. “I will. No matter what.”

Your lips parted, something fragile forming in your throat, but the words never came.

She shifted closer, her shoulder brushing yours. Warm. Solid. Familiar.

“You’re so good,” she murmured, her eyes flicking to your hands still cradling the bunny. “And I’m…”

She trailed off. Her voice felt like it came from somewhere deep and rotten.

“You’re not bad,” you said softly, without thinking. “You’re just… hurt.”

That landed hard.

She looked away, jaw flexing like she might laugh or cry or destroy something. Maybe all three.

You didn’t see it—but she had to clench her hands into fists to stop herself from reaching out.

She didn’t deserve this. Your kindness. Your softness. Your mercy.

But she wanted it more than anything in the world.

Before you could say anything else, the bunny twitched slightly and tried to climb from your arms. You helped guide it to the ground gently. It paused there—drenched, tiny, trembling—then hopped off into the grass and disappeared.

You both watched in silence.

The sun was starting to dip, casting long golden shadows through the windows of the record store. Dust danced in the air, caught in the light between spinning racks of vinyl and fading posters of Bowie and Blondie. You were behind the counter, elbows on the register, flipping absentmindedly through an old zine while a synth-pop track played faintly in the background.

You didn’t notice her across the street.

But Sevika did.

She stood half-shielded in the alley beside the pharmacy, camera in hand, finger on the shutter.

Click.

Through the glass, she captured you mid-laugh as you leaned over the counter to grab something from under the register. Click. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Click. You looked up toward the window like you’d felt her—but your gaze passed right through.

She lowered the camera slowly, lips parted just slightly, like even now—after everything—she was stunned by how much she wanted.

Then—

“Creepy.”

The voice came from just behind her.

Sevika turned fast, hand tightening around the camera.

Mel.

Hands in her coat pockets, one brow raised, that casual, too-cool smirk on her face.

“You always do that with girls you like?” she asked. “Hide behind a dumpster with a telephoto lens?”

Sevika didn’t say anything.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lie.

She just stared at her.

Mel’s smirk faded, but not into disgust.

Into… something more curious. Calculating.

After a beat, she tilted her head. “You know, most people would run away screaming.”

Sevika raised a brow. “But not you?”

Mel shrugged. “Not judging. I’ve done some stupid shit for people who didn’t even look at me the same way. Let alone the way she looks at you.”

That got Sevika’s attention.

Mel stepped forward, her voice quieter now, the smirk gone.

“I’m not saying I get it,” she said. “But I understand wanting someone so bad you forget where the line is. Hell, sometimes you don’t even see it anymore.”

Sevika studied her for a long moment.

“…You gonna tell her?”

Mel snorted. “Please. I’ve got my own mess to worry about.”

Then she turned to walk off, only pausing once to glance back.

“Just don’t hurt her,” she said. “At least not more than you already have.”

Sevika watched her go, fingers tightening around the camera.

And behind the lens?

Still you.

Still perfect.

Still hers.

The doorbell above the record store jingled softly as Mel walked in, letting the warmth and hum of the place wash over her. The light inside felt too normal compared to the weird, charged moment she’d just left outside.

You looked up from behind the counter instantly, eyes lighting up. “Hey! I thought you were off today?”

Mel shrugged coolly, brushing a few curls behind her ear. “I was bored. Figured I’d stop by and bug you for free music”

You smiled faintly. “Bold of you to assume I’d give you free music.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d pay for it,” she shot back, grinning as she leaned on the counter like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t just caught Sevika creeping in the alley with a camera like a slasher in a leather jacket.

You turned to adjust a display behind the register, and for a moment—just a moment—Mel’s smile faded.

Her eyes flicked to the window.

To the alley.

She knew Sevika was still out there. Watching. Lurking like she always did.

And yet… Mel said nothing.

No warnings. No dramatic confrontation. No “hey, I just caught your maybe-girlfriend being very weird.”

She just leaned back, hands in her jacket pockets, and said casually, “You seem lighter today. Happier.”

You glanced back at her, a little shy. “I think things are finally settling.”

Mel gave you a nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good,” she said. “You deserve that.”

And still—she didn’t say a word.

Because some people keep secrets out of fear. But Mel? She kept them because sometimes, it’s easier to let someone else carry the madness.

Especially when you’ve carried your own.

It was one of those rare moments—so rare, it felt weird—when Sevika wasn’t hovering. No shadow at your back. No lingering stare from across the hall. Just sun, breeze, and a quiet spot on the edge of the courtyard where you were sitting alone, eating a peanut butter sandwich and rereading an old issue of Sassy like it might magically cure your social anxiety.

Then—

“Mind if I sit?”

You looked up.

Vi.

Pink hair, chipped nail polish, black leather jacket that looked more lived-in than most houses. She wasn’t new. You’d seen her around plenty. She mostly stuck to her own crowd—loud kids, band kids, the ones who made out behind the gym and smoked behind the auto shop. The ones who knew stuff.

You blinked. “Uh… sure.”

She dropped down next to you with zero hesitation, pulling an apple from her jacket pocket and taking a bite like she’d been planning to sit with you all along.

“Didn’t feel like dealing with the mouth-breathers today,” she said, nodding toward the crowded picnic tables.

You laughed, just a little.

“Been meaning to talk to you,” Vi added, a little more casually. “You’ve had… a lot going on.”

You tensed slightly but nodded. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

Vi glanced over at you, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You holding up?”

You looked down at your lunch. “Trying to.”

Vi just hummed. “Good. You don’t seem like the type to fall apart.”

And across the courtyard—

Click.

A camera shutter snapped from the shadows of the main building’s overhang.

Sevika.

Standing perfectly still, one foot braced against the wall, camera raised to her eye. She didn’t lower it right away. She just stared through the lens, watching Vi’s hand gesturing mid-sentence, watching you smile—not forced, not scared, just… soft.

Too soft.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed.

Click.

Another photo.

This one perfectly framed. Vi laughing. Your head tilted toward her. Almost close.

She lowered the camera slowly.

Her jaw tightened. And in her chest, that heavy, cold thing started pulsing again.

Because she hadn’t decided what Vi was yet.

But after that smile?

She knew she’d be watching.

The bell rang, loud and final, cutting through the courtyard chatter like a blade. Around you, kids scrambled to grab backpacks and shove the rest of their lunch in their mouths as they shuffled toward the building.

You stood up slowly, tucking your magazine into your bag, and turned to Vi with a soft smile.

“This was nice,” you said honestly. “I, uh… didn’t expect company today.”

Vi slung her bag over one shoulder and gave you a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well. I like catching people off guard.”

You started walking together toward the doors when she suddenly nudged you gently with her elbow.

“Hey,” she said. “You got a number I can call? Y’know—if I wanna check in, or drag you to a punk show.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—yeah. But it’s my house line.”

“Old school,” Vi grinned. “I respect it.”

You reached into your bag, pulled out a pen, and scribbled your number onto the back of an old concert flyer she handed you.

“There,” you said, handing it back. “Just don’t call too late. My mom gets weird.”

“No promises,” she teased, tucking the paper into her pocket with a wink before disappearing into the building.

Across the courtyard, Sevika was still standing in the shadows.

She hadn’t moved.

Not when the bell rang. Not when the crowd shifted. Not even when Vi smiled at you like that.

Her fingers flexed around the camera. She didn’t take another photo.

She didn’t need to.

She had you memorized.

And now… someone else does too.

Backpacks were gone. Students filed inside, the bell echoing off the brick walls, swallowed by the closing doors.

Sevika hadn’t moved.

She stood in the shadow of the building, fists clenched at her sides, eyes still locked on the spot where you and Vi had stood—laughing, smiling, talking like Sevika wasn’t even real anymore. Like she was just background.

Her jaw ticked.

She was still holding the camera.

And then—

“Hey, Sevika!”

The voice was light. Breathless. Stupid.

She turned slowly.

Her. One of the fanclub girls. The one with the braces and glitter lip gloss. Her name might’ve been Marcy, or Macy—it didn’t matter.

She was alone. Too excited. Too trusting.

“I saw you out here and I was wondering if you wanted to, like, hang sometime? Just us?” She smiled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “I know it’s lame but I think you’re, like, the hottest girl in school and—”

Sevika didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even pretend to be polite.

She took one slow step forward.

The girl faltered. “I—I mean, I’m not weird or anything, I just—”

Another step.

The smile on the girl’s face flickered. “Are you… okay?”

Sevika didn’t answer.

And the school?

Didn’t have cameras. Couldn’t afford them.

No one else was around. No teachers. No students. Just the soft breeze brushing through the trees and the quiet snap of her camera as it slipped back into her bag.

She didn’t even need a weapon.

Not really.

By the time the bell for the next period rang, the courtyard was still empty.

Too empty.

And Sevika?

She walked back inside like nothing happened—just another student.

Marcy’s body wouldn’t be found until late that evening, stuffed behind the supply shed, her lip gloss crushed beneath a bootprint that didn’t match her size.

The local news blared in the living room while your mom chopped vegetables in the kitchen, half-paying attention. You were frozen in place, standing just inside the hallway, watching the screen like it might swallow you.

“—the victim, identified as seventeen-year-old Marcy Blanchard, was found earlier this evening behind the Southside supply shed on the campus of Silverpine High. Officials say the scene was ‘brutal,’ and that the student body is being advised to travel in pairs—”

You felt sick.

Your heart pounded as the anchor droned on about school safety policies and increased police presence. You barely made it up the stairs before your legs gave out and you collapsed onto your bed, trying to blink back the tears stinging behind your eyes.

You were about to go grab the phone to call Sevika when—

Rrrriiiiing.

The house phone on your nightstand lit up, the old green LED blinking with an incoming call. You grabbed it quickly, expecting her name. Hoping for it.

“Hello?”

At first, just static.

Then— A voice.

Disoriented. Distorted. Like it was being dragged through broken wires.

“Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Your breath caught. “Wh—who is this?”

“You think you’re special?” the voice hissed. “You think you get to smile and flirt and walk away untouched?”

“Please,” you whispered. “What do you want—”

“Stop talking to her. Or next time, they won’t find the body.”

Click.

The line went dead.

You sat there shaking, your fingers white-knuckled around the receiver as you slowly hung it up. Then you turned and immediately redialed Sevika’s number.

She picked up after two rings.

“Hey,” she said, calm as ever.

“Someone just called me,” you gasped. “They were—distorted, I don’t know who it was, but they knew about Vi. They said—God, Sevika, they said next time they won’t find the body—”

“Shhh,” she soothed. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You nodded against the receiver, trying not to fall apart completely. “Can you come over?”

A pause.

“I don’t think I should tonight.”

Your chest caved in.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s not safe,” she said carefully. “Whoever that was—if they’re watching, I can’t risk leading them to you. I’ll call tomorrow.”

You tried not to cry. Tried to be brave. But the line went quiet for a second too long, and your voice cracked.

“Okay.”

You hung up. You didn’t want to.

And when you turned your light off and crawled into bed, you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

Across town, in a dimly-lit room—

Sevika sat in front of her boxy CRT TV, the grainy black-and-white feed humming softly.

On the screen: you.

Curled up under your blanket, shoulders shaking.

Tears sliding silently down your cheeks.

She leaned back, arms crossed, eyes glued to the screen.

She could’ve come over.

But this?

This was better.

This was punishment. This was reminder. This was control.

And God, you were beautiful when you cried.

@glittzygorilla @vxtanne31 @leeidk87 @spinback-kiva @ half-of-a-gay @alessabriel @h3rprinc3zz

I Belong to You

Summary: Who do you belong to?

(The reader is 18+ and gender-neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably Black/POC.)

“I suggest we start making reinforcements, General. The guards at the borders are plenty, but we don’t know what tactics the enemy will soon use.” The lieutenant looked up to Ambessa, waiting for her response to his suggestion when his eyes caught you again, and quickly he began to stare like before.

Shit, you thought, your body urging you to try to cover up the mark again, but you fought it off. It was against Ambessa’s orders for the day: “Unless I tell you to, you will not cover up my markings, little one. You will proudly display them.” Standing at her side, you tried to appear as professional and unbothered as she was, but you were quickly failing at it. 

By ‘markings,’ she meant the obvious hickeys she had left upon your body. She had been in a particularly ravenous mood the night before and chose to leave them on your neck, shoulders, arms, wrists, and even on your chest and stomach. Thank goodness that your outfit covered a large amount of your body; the only skin visible to others were your neck, shoulders, and wrists. 

“Lieutenant,” Ambessa said, looking down at him, a look of pride visible on her face. You didn't have to be a mind-reader to know that she was enjoying this.

“Yes?” The man responded, trying to ignore the dark bruises on your visible skin.

“Is there something wrong with my (Y/N),” she asked, her lips quirking up into a faint smirk. You tried to ignore it, but the sound of her calling you ‘My (Y/N)’ had butterflies fluttering in your stomach and a hot feeling stirring in your nether regions. You saw a familiar look in her eyes, one that was present the night before, and the hot feeling grew 10x times hotter.

“No, ma’am,” he answered, finally lowering his gaze down to the ground, hoping he hadn’t angered her. 

“Then what are you staring at,” She asked, looking back at the man, while bringing a hand up to caress the side of your face. Before you knew it, you pushed your face into her hand and nuzzled it, like the  desperate puppy she called you last night. 

“Nothing, General. May we start the reinforcements today?” he questioned, a bead of sweat beginning to roll down the side of his face in fear. Everyone knew how possessive the Warlord could become with her lovers.

A chuckle left her as she stood in silence, her hand still caressing your face. Even though she wasn’t looking toward you anymore, she knew you probably held the cutest desperate puppy look in your eyes.

“Yes, you may,” she told him, moving her hand from your face down to your shoulder. Nodding, the man hurried and left, Rictus following soon after him, and standing outside the door, already aware of the events soon to take place in the room.

It was silent for only a second before she pulled you close to her body, wrapping an arm around your waist and cupping your face with her other hand, smirking down at you. “You wear my markings beautifully, little one.”

“Bess, please. Can’t I cover up just a little?” 

“Absolutely not. I need others to know who you belong to? Understand?” She lowered her face towards yours, and you immediately moved yours closer, your lips almost touching hers. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Then tell me, darling, who do you belong to?” 

The hotness inside you grew even more and you knew that tonight there would definitely be more ‘markings’ covering your body. 

“You, Ambessa. I belong to you.”

ok so i have a request but first i just wanna say ur writing is so cute 😭 like it gets me every time i'm giggling and kicking my feet ily

anyway can u write smth with jinx where her gf is in the hospital cause she got caught up in some kind of riot (kinda like the one isha got swept up in) and she had to get some kind of surgery and she's all loopy on the meds so when jinx is holding her hand she's like ??? I have a gf??? except jinx literally is her gf and she thinks it's funny so she's like 'yeah? what's your gf like?' and r accidentally insults her without meaning to and at the end the anesthesia wears off and she's like 'why're u laughing at me what did i say?'

just smth cute like that

of course!! thank you for the request <3

i appreciate the words a lot you’re so sweet! ilyt, i hope i did your request justice :)

summary; jinx’s girlfriend gets injured during the riot. she wakes up in the hospital, loopy, and forgets she has a girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, sevika (platonic), isha (mentioned, platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; fluff, crack (kinda), very minor hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, r gets injured

men dni.

you're not sure exactly what happened, and jinx isn't either.

it started with a rally in the undercity to protest against the brutality of piltover's enforcers. gas, mass arrests, and sheer brutality drove the people of zaun to organize, though what they wanted most was jinx.

jinx, zaun's royalty as they saw her- a young woman who wasn't afraid to stand up against piltover's regime. they saw her as a symbol, but those who knew jinx can attest that she never wanted that status. she's always been a bit selfish, seeking only to protect herself and those she loved. being dubbed a symbol was of no interest to her, and being at a rally was even less interesting.

but it happened, and jinx curses herself for not having been there.

all she's been able to gather is from word of mouth. you got beaten pretty badly apparently, having been slammed up against a metal fence, stabbed in the side, and punched until you damn near lost consciousness. then kicked until you did. it wasn't until around twenty minutes after that a medical team was called, and it took even longer for them to actually get there. distance between cities aside, piltover has never been enthusiastic about providing the undercity their services.

and that's all she's been able to get. nothing about your recovery, your whereabouts, if they were able to get a pulse from you and bring you back to consciousness. nothing.

not only did isha get sent to stillwater, but you were severely injured. even as your girlfriend was ecstatic to retrieve isha from her cell and free other zaunites, it all circled back to you.

she doesn't just want you, and doesn't just want isha. she wants the family that she's built together. she goes through the motions of playing with the little girl, trying to put on a brave face while they set off glitter bombs and isha's infectious laughter rings through the air. but it doesn't compare to you being there, the both of you playing with her and making her laugh.

you should be by jinx's side, holding her from behind and peering over her shoulder at isha's newest adventure. brushing the girl's hair while jinx (tries to) makes food for the three of you, helping paint the toys jinx made, but you're in a hospital bed somewhere in piltover that nobody has been able to crack yet. it drives her near insane.

the door to the hideout opens though, and sevika half peers through. jinx can hear creaking, but only rolls her eyes without turning around.

"not interested," she deadpans.

"i'm sure you're not," sevika huffs, but that doesn't deter her. "she's in a hospital not far from the council building. apparently she's awake. thought you might want to know that, at least."

that catches jinx's attention. her head snaps around, brows furrowing. "you're serious?"

"would i have come here if i wasn't?"

of course she wouldn't have. sevika's a busy woman and time is her currency- so within seconds, jinx is tossing her boots on and bolting toward the exit with a one-track mind.

"stay here with isha, would you?"

with the way the girl is rushing out, it doesn't give sevika much choice. she sighs, looking over to the little girl absorbed in coloring and sits next to her.

"looks like it's you and me for a while, kid."

✧.*

you're lucky jinx loves you, because it took a good twenty minutes just for her to be cleared to visit you.

"no, i don't have any explosives, no, i'm not here to push an agenda, no, i'm not causing any trouble. i just want to visit my girlfriend."

"but-"

"janna above- just let me see her. you'd think this stuff would be easier..."

her heart is beating like a war drum when she approaches the room. there's a clear door and a little curtain obscuring her view of the bed, but she can see an iv bag. numerous tubes connecting to your hidden body, and a heart monitor. she doesn't know much about medicine, but the steady beep, beep, beep of the monitor is a momentary relief to the girl. at least you're stable.

she steps inside, knocking on the inside of the doorframe slowly.

"hey, toots..." she starts, slowly opening the curtain to reveal your form. you're still bruised, but the swelling that must've been there before is mostly gone. your eyes are lost in a far-off stare while she carefully sits down on the edge of the bed. "i'm so glad you're okay. i wanted to visit earlier, i did, just..."

her slender fingers slowly slot between yours, and she finds your gaze meeting hers within seconds. there you are, she thinks. there's those pretty eyes. "hey," you murmur.

just that word is enough to bring tears to jinx's eyes. it takes everything in her power to not just pounce on you, bury her head in your neck while she trembles and cries and clings to you, but that's the last thing you need. especially after just getting out of surgery.

"i should've been there," she breathes out, her voice trembling softly. "i'm your girlfriend, you got hurt and i was just sitting on my ass, and... oh, fuck, i'm so sorry."

a beat of silence, and your brows furrow. then you tilt your head... what is going through your head right now? this isn't the reaction jinx was expecting.

"...i have a girlfriend?"

the words are like a blow to the girl's chest, her eyes widening as her face inches closer to yours. suddenly, the tears are gone.

"uh, yeah? you've had a girlfriend for the past what- eight months?"

you let out a little gasp, your mouth forming an 'o' shape. "really?"

how could you not remember that? you and jinx have been together for close to a year now and near inseparable, and now you just... forgot? but she looks around, she sees the monitors and wires and breathalyzer... right. you just got out of surgery. you're loopy.

"wow..." you murmur, your words slurring together the slightest bit. "i do? what's she like?"

and, well.. jinx would be a damn fool if she didn't have at least some fun with this. she sits back on the edge, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder with a toothy grin.

"well," she starts. "she's amazing. smoking hot, of course, and super smart. like, a genius. she's funny, and talented, she's something of a hero... you know. the whole shebang."

your eyes light up at the description, and it takes everything jinx has to not burst out laughing on the spot.

"she sounds great," you gasp, lips tugging into a little smile. in this barely-there state where you're seeing this beautiful girl you barely recognize in front of you, these words are a shock. you've had a girlfriend this time, and you didn't know? "when can i see her? where is she?"

jinx chuckles softly, letting out an amused sigh and shaking her head.

"you'll see her soon enough. she's closer than ya think, love."

you're about to sit back against the pillows again before a thought occurs to you.

"do you have a girlfriend?"

the girl stares at you incredulously for a minute, blinking. you must be really out of it- but it draws an actual laugh from her.

"i do, yeah," she huffs. "she's great, too. beautiful, talented, funny, sweet... basically perfect."

"aw, damn it..."

✧.*

a few hours, jinx getting food from the hospital's cafeteria, and jinx is back at your door. she would've been there sooner, but those pesky doctors just had to run some tests to make sure you were in stable condition after the operation.

she peers in the slightest bit to see you writing in something, a journal, presumably. she just barely steps in before your gaze lands on her, and you're beaming.

"jinx, you're here!" she hears from inside the room, and there's that smile she loves so much. she's quick to sit back on the edge of the bed, and you're even quicker to wrap your arms around her waist. the best you can while hooked up to tubes, anyways. "i wanted to talk to you, just.. i still haven't gotten my phone back."

and while she's ecstatic that you actually remember her now, she can't help but stifle a laugh. because you don't remember a damn thing about earlier.

"...hey, what's that look for?"

the dam breaks. she's laughing, doubled-over full belly laughing and you're left there, wide-eyed and bewildered.

"babe- hey! what's so funny?"

"i... jeez, i'm sorry, just, earlier you said-"

this only causes further confusion as your brows knit together and you try to turn your girlfriend to face you once again, though to no avail.

"you visited earlier? oh shit- i... what did i say?"

jinx is breathless between laughter and trying oh so hard to keep it together so she can just tell you. you were so damn loopy on those painkillers that you don't remember completely forgetting you have a girlfriend and asking if she was single, and she doesn't know if she has the heart to tell you.

"yeah, uh," she breathes out. "don't worry about it. it was nothing."

maybe she'll tell you after you've been discharged.

The Regular

Summary: Working at babette’s you’re used to people asking for you after being in your company. You’re used to some of your clients speaking to you in passing, telling you they’ll see you soon. But your not used to that person being Silco’s right hand (wo)man.

Warning: mentions of prostitution, drinking, smoking, mentions of stalking, mentions of r#pe (very briefly), mentions of sex but none actually occurs, let me know if i missed anything else

a/n: Very clique plot for Sevika I know I know, but its perfect.

You’ve been working for babette since you were in your early twenties, now years have passed and you’ve grown accustomed to the life of a prostitute. Babette takes good care of you, as she does for most of her workers. Its just in her nature as she knows the work isn’t easy.

Throughout you many years of working for her you’ve had your bad experiences, men being way too rough, some even stalking you, but the past week you had the worst of them all. A specific client thats visited you multiple times forced his seed inside of you, breaking one of the few rules. After you were a bit shaken up and immediately went to Babette about it.

She immediately sent someone to go get the need medicine to prevent a pregnancy, comforting you and granting you a week off per your request. You spent the first couple days laying in bed and sleeping, as you didnt get much due to your job. The rest you spent taking a much needed self reset, doing things that made you happy. Like taking a nice bath, trimming your hair and nails, painting them in your favorite color, and cleaning to soothe your anxiety if it came creeping back up. The day before you had to go back you made sure to get enough sleep knowing your body craved more rest before returning to the tasking work.

On your first day back you took your time getting yourself together, walking into Babettes office and asking who had booked you today. To your surprise she informed you that Sevika booked you for your whole shift. You could tell by her tone that she was a bit surprised too, but she didnt mention it. She mentioned that every day you were gone she barged in asking for you, and with each passing day she got more aggravated with hearing ‘Shes not here today.’

Shes payed you many visits throughout the past couple months, sometimes seeing other girls but she always came back to you. Whispering in your ear that no one could satisfy her better than you, while you whined and moaned on the strap she always wore when seeing you. You let out a hum as you strolled down the hall, knowing she was waiting for you in your room.

As you pushed open the curtain your eyes landed on her, taking up a good amount of space on the couch, her legs spread wide with her mechanical arm resting on the back of the couch as she smoked her cigar with her right. You let the curtains fall behind you as you leisurely walked towards her. Once you were close enough she moved the arm from the back of the couch and wrapped the cold metal around your nearly bare skin. Letting it slip down to your hip as she pulled you into her lap.

With a smile you got comfortable while perched in her lap, placing your hands on her shoulders and moving them to the back of her neck. Playing with the locks on the back of her head. She took one last drag of the cigar, digging it into the tray that you had in your room just for her as she blew the smoke into your face.

You breathed it in with a sigh, it was quiet for a moment before she spoke up. “You’ve kept me waiting woman.” Despite her harsh words there was no ounce of anger lacing her tone. Using her actual arm to place under your chin and held it firmly.

“Wanna let me know why that is hm?” She leaned in slightly, a sly smile pulled on your lips. “Missed me sev?” You were avoiding the question, you both knew it. She let out a huff, ducking her head to your neck and placed a soft bite to your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to make it known she wanted answers. You tilted your head back in bliss, missing the way her mouth felt pressed against your neck. As she pulled away from your neck you whined at the loss of contact.

Through the many visits you let your persona fade away, letting yourself enjoy her pleasure just as much as she enjoyed yours. Not caring to put up a front like you do with other clients. “Tell me.” Letting out a huff you look at her, glancing away briefly as you mumbled to her what happened. You knew you shouldn’t, it wasn’t a good idea but it was Sevika. Not just some random man who came stumbling in.

Immediately her attitude shifted, her touch more gentle but she would deny it if you brought it up. You spent the next hours in each other’s blissful company while she praised you, focusing more on you than pleasuring herself.

When it was time to leave she fixed up her appearance slightly in the tiny mirror you kept to fix yourself up in-between clients while you sat next to her. You stared at her tiredly, sighing as you got up from the couch. She placed the mirror down that seemed smaller in her big hands, standing up and towering over you. She took two pouches of coins from her bag and tossed them on the table, “Keep ‘em. I’ll see you later doll.” You smiled at her and waved your fingers at her as she left.

You felt more at peace as you changed into your regular clothes, placing the two pouches Sevika gave you in your bag. Waving to Babette as you left the brothel for the night, and grabbing some food from Jericho’s on your way home.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Weeks have passed since then, you’ve fallen back into your usual routine. Lately Sevika’s visits have been less sex and more talking. Mostly her complaining about all the shit she has to deal with when it comes to cleaning up after jinx messes, and Silco’s been putting more work on her than usual. Of course no matter what you two were doing you enjoyed her company, the whole time she rambled you ran your fingers through her hair, up and drown the side of her neck while holding her cigar for her until she motioned for it.

On one of those days you told her about how you used her money to fix up your place, you managed to snag of of the few two story homes in zaun. Of course it was abandoned at first but with much grueling work and help from some friends years ago you fixed it up the best you could. You slightly rambled on how you were able to buy a heater to fight against the grueling cold weather that was flowing through zaun right now. You also told her that you were able to buy some new outfits you think she’d like.

Today though was one of the few days you were off, a friend from the brothel asked to snag one of your shifts because she needed some money to buy her son new winter clothes. Of course you let her have it, obviously making sure sevika didnt book you for that day.

Deciding you wanted to get a drink today instead of staying home you pulled on some old worn down leggings and then some thick cargo jeans. Sliding on a black long sleeve that was skin tight and a thick jacket you purchased many cold winters ago which was obvious due to the jacket being worn down. Pairing the outfit with your old black boots that don’t get much wear now. But it did the job so you couldn’t care less. After sliding money in your pocket that would surely cover a few drinks you headed out to The Last Drop.

You pushed the doors open and were immediately greeted with strobe lights and loud music, and smoke flowing through the air. Pushing your way through the crowd to get to the bar, you slid into a bar stool and ordered a shot of whiskey. It was a bit expensive but you liked to take pleasure in spoiling yourself sometimes.

So as you downed the shot, and the next few you didn’t think about how much it costed. Instead you cherished the way the warm liquid ran down your throat. You didn’t take enough to get drunk, but enough to feel a slight buzz. You decided to just sit at the bar for a while until you heard an all too familiar whistle.

It was the whistle she used every-time you stripped off your new set, or when you moved in a way she particularly liked. You head slowly turned to the sound, locking eyes with her. She was sitting in a booth near the stairs that led up to what you would assume is Silco’s office. She was sitting across from a work colleague she mentioned once, Ran if you remembered correctly.

You tried to fight the small smile that played on your lips as she beckoned you over, you slid off the barstool and walked over to her booth. Sliding in to sit next to her. Her arm immediately moved to rest behind you, “What’re you doing here doll?” You glanced to her friend who was simply looking at you. Not with a glare or anything but was trying to figure out who you were. Looking back over at her. “Had the day off, wanted a drink.” You shifted your leg so it was draping over hers, something you’ve grown accustomed to.

She hummed, eyes glancing down at your leg which seemed so much smaller compared to hers. Something she enjoyed when the time came. “If I knew any better i’d say you were looking for me.” She let a teasing smirk pull on her face. You saw her friend slide out the booth through the corner of your eye but didn’t pay it any mind. “Would it be so bad if I was?” Raising your brows at her in a playful manner.

Her hand lifted from behind the couch, wrapping around and her fingers grazed your cheek. Her gentleness taking you aback for a moment, “No, it wouldn’t.” she stared down at you for a moment before rest her hand on your thigh and turned to take a sip from her drink.

The rest of the night you spent with each other, sitting in the booth and talking. Getting to know one another beyond sex, and the rambling that occurred in the brothel. When the night came to a close she walked you back to your house, and with much convincing she stayed the night.

m.list

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

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

Burn scars.

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

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

☆ ◞ summary: arcane characters reacting to your burn scars

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

Jayce Talis.

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

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

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

Jayce noticed immediately.

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

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

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

Burn scars.

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

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

Jayce didn’t look convinced.

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

You hesitated.

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

After a long moment, you nodded.

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

He just held you.

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

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

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

Your chest ached at the sincerity in his tone.

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

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

Jayce squeezed back.

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

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

Mel Medarda.

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

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

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

You hesitated before shrugging. "Just tired."

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

Her fingers stilled.

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

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

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

But Mel Medarda did not deal in empty sentiments.

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

You blinked. "Gold leafing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once, you let yourself believe her.

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

Viktor.

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

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

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

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

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

Viktor didn’t look away. "May I see?"

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

But Viktor wasn’t most people.

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

Seconds passed in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx.

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah it is."

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

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

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

Despite yourself, you laughed. "Jinx—"

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

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

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

Your chest tightened. "Not physically."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx beamed. "And you love it."

And yeah. You did.

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

Ekko.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ekko frowned. "Ugly?"

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

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

"Look at me," he said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ambessa feeding into readers mommy issues… I need

♡ Approval, something you'd constantly demand from any older woman you'd encounter. It was pathetic really, the ongoing desire you'd always have to be reminded that you're enough. And Ambessa, she'd absolutely feed your little comfort seeking heart.

Smiling at you through the crowd, squeezing your shoulders with one hand as she'd pass by you, examining your art crafts with attention and giving detailed comments, brushing your hair gently while massaging your scalp, pinching your nose in a teasing manner whenever you'd get upset over small things.

It was amusing to her really, the way you couldn't hide the sparkle in your eyes whenever she'd slightly praise you, your heart jumping in joy and happiness, the missing places getting filled slowly by her warmth and affection. She knew she was all you'd needed and sought for your whole life, so she was going to grant it generously, knowing how calm and relieved it'd make you.

"You're always so good for me," she'd tuck your hair behind your ears, kissing your forehead making you smile ear to ear. "Wish I'd found you sooner you know" she'd mumble into your ear from behind as you were busy doing your little things, eyebrow frowned in focus. "Relax, little one" she'd touch between your eyebrows with her thumb, making your frown disappear.

She had a habit of showering you with kisses, her soft plump lips traveling on your skin, slowly leaving kisses all over the warmth of your body. It soon turned into a habit, running to her in the middle of the day demanding kisses, to which she'd deliver happily. "Greedy little thing," she'd hum in your neck "You're lucky I love you"

masterlist

Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with big titty gfs

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.

Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.

“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.

Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.

“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.

“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.

“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.

“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.

“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”

“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.

Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.

“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”

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Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

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

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."