I Absolutely Love How You Write For The Bg3 Companions!!
I absolutely love how you write for the bg3 companions!!
Can we get romanced companions reacting to seeing Tav being approached by an abusive ex, who grabs them violently when Tav tries to walk away from the confrontation? They are grabbed violently by the hair, neck, wrist, etc? Thank you!!
omg yessssssssss tw everyone this will contain themes of abuse and domestic violence so if you are uncomfortable with that please click off and I will see you in the next one xox
Karlach:
The tavern was warm and lively, filled with the buzz of laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of an old bard strumming away in the corner. You sat close to Karlach at a small, dimly lit table, her broad grin as radiant as ever. Her laughter boomed over some silly tale you'd told, her joy contagious as the two of you sipped from your mugs. The night was going perfectly—until they showed up.
You didn’t see your ex at first, but you heard their voice, a cold and unwelcome shard of your past cutting through the tavern’s warmth. “Well, well. Look who it is.”
Your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you saw them, standing just a few feet away with that same cruel smirk you’d hoped to never see again. They looked the same, too—bitter, angry, and clearly still holding a grudge. Karlach’s laughter faded as she noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes flicked between you and the person now looming over your table.
“Not here,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with warning. “Don’t make a scene. Just leave.”
They laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that turned heads. “Oh, I’m making a scene?” they sneered, stepping closer. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like nothing happened?”
You tried to stand, but before you could, their hand shot out and grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin.
“You’re not going anywhere,” they hissed.
The motion was so sudden that the tavern seemed to freeze for a moment. The mug in Karlach’s hand thudded onto the table, her expression darkening in an instant.
“Get your hands off them,” she said, her voice a low, warning growl.
Your ex sneered at her, but before they could say anything more, Karlach shot up from her seat. She shoved them back with one powerful hand, forcing them to release you. The force sent them stumbling, their eyes widening in shock.
“You okay?” Karlach asked, her warm brown eyes filled with concern as she turned to you. Her hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly. “Let’s just—”
Before you could finish, your ex stormed back, their face twisted in rage. They lunged toward you, but they didn’t get far. Karlach’s fist met their face in a flash of fiery determination, the impact so loud it echoed through the now-silent tavern. Your ex crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious before they even hit the ground.
Karlach flexed her fingers, looking down at them with disdain.
“Idiot,” she muttered, then turned back to you. “C’mon, love. Let’s get out of here.”
You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your coat. As the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Karlach slipped an arm around your shoulders, her presence grounding you.
“Sorry about that,” you murmured after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think they’d—”
“Stop,” Karlach said gently, her voice firm but kind. “You don’t owe me an apology for their bullshit. What’s their deal, anyway?”
You hesitated but eventually sighed. “We were together a long time ago. It… wasn’t a good relationship. They were controlling, mean. It took everything I had to leave.”
Karlach’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of rage in her eyes as she looked straight ahead.
“Should’ve killed the arsehole,” she muttered under her breath.
You chuckled softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “You don’t have to solve everything with violence, you know.”
She looked down at you, her expression softening.
“Not everything,” she said with a small grin. “But that? They had it coming.” Her arm tightened around you. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m here.”
A warm wave of gratitude washed over you as you leaned into her, the safety of her presence more comforting than words could express. “Thank you, Karlach.”
“Always, love,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. As the two of you walked home, you felt lighter, knowing you were no longer alone in facing the ghosts of your past.
Minthara:
The streets of Baldur's Gate were alive with the din of activity: merchants haggling in the marketplace, children darting between the crowd, and the occasional bard strumming a jaunty tune. You walked alongside Minthara, her presence commanding, as always. Her arm curled around your waist with a possessiveness that was both protective and tender. Her silvery hair caught the evening light, and her voice, low and firm, reached your ear.
“We are being followed,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple. “Someone’s gaze lingers far too long on you.”
Your heart sank, a sinking pit of familiarity clawing at your gut. You subtly glanced over your shoulder under the guise of adjusting your scarf, and that’s when you saw them: your abusive ex. Their figure lingered in the shadows, weaving through the crowd like a snake, their eyes fixed on you with that same unsettling intensity you had tried so hard to forget.
“Dammit,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. The weight of the moment sank in, and you let out a frustrated sigh.
Minthara’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied your expression.
“Who is that?” she asked, her voice icy and sharp.
You hesitated, considering whether to brush it off, but you knew better than to lie to Minthara. “Do you remember the scar just above my hip?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.
Her grip on your waist tightened as she nodded, her gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet intense.
“They gave it to me,” you admitted, keeping your voice steady. “It happened the day I tried to leave them. We fought, and—” You stopped, the memories creeping too close. “They’ve always had a hard time letting go.”
Minthara’s body went rigid. Her hand, still wrapped around your waist, stilled entirely, her nails pressing into the fabric of your tunic. Her jaw clenched, and before you could stop her, she uncoiled with terrifying precision and sprinted toward your ex.
“Minthara, wait!” you shouted, but it was useless. She was already closing the distance.
Your ex barely had time to react before Minthara tackled them to the ground with the force of a lioness taking down her prey. The crowd scattered, gasps and shouts echoing in the marketplace as she delivered blow after calculated blow. Each strike was vicious but efficient, aimed with the precision of someone trained to dismantle an opponent piece by piece. Her movements were smooth, brutal, and terrifyingly beautiful in their ruthlessness.
“Touch them again,” Minthara snarled, her voice low and venomous as she pressed her forearm against your ex’s throat, “and I will ensure that death would beg for you before I allow it.”
She delivered one final punch, leaving your ex groaning and crumpled in the dirt, their face bloodied and swollen. Satisfied, she stood, brushing her hands off as if she had merely swatted a fly. She strode back toward you, the calm precision of her movements making the crowd part before her like waves.
When she reached you, she lifted her chin, a faint, dangerous smile curling her lips.
“The injuries I’ve given them will take decades to heal,” she promised, her voice still simmering with fury. “And perhaps a century to scar.”
You stared at her, part of you unsure whether to admonish or thank her. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Minthara, you didn’t have to—”
“They hurt you,” she cut in, her voice softening only slightly as her gaze bored into yours. “That is reason enough.”
She reached out, brushing her thumb against your cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You are mine to protect. That wretch deserved every ounce of pain I inflicted.”
Despite the ferocity of her words, the warmth in her touch reminded you why you trusted her so deeply. With a soft sigh, you nodded, leaning into her hand.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, the weight of her actions settling in. Her smile widened, pride glinting in her eyes.
“Of course, my heart. No one who dares harm you will ever go unpunished.” She took your hand and began walking again, her steps measured and sure. As the chaos in the marketplace faded behind you, you couldn’t help but feel safer than you ever had before.
Lae'zel:
The bustling market was alive with noise: merchants shouting out their wares, children weaving between the stalls, and the occasional clang of metal as blacksmiths displayed their crafts. You and Lae’zel moved through the chaos, her sharp eyes scanning for supplies while you trailed beside her, taking in the sights. It was a moment of relative peace amidst your usual adventures.
And then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, you saw them. Your ex.
Before you could react, they were in front of you, their face lighting up with a joy that felt out of place—wrong, even. “There you are!” they exclaimed, pulling you into a hug so suddenly that you didn’t have time to resist. Their arms wrapped around you tightly, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as panic set in. It wasn’t the embrace of an old friend—it was a claim, a reminder of the control they once held over you.
“I’ve missed you,” they said with a grin, pulling back to look at you. “We have to catch up sometime.”
They left without waiting for your reply, disappearing into the crowd as if they hadn’t just turned your world upside down. You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding and your thoughts racing.
Lae’zel, who had been perusing a nearby stand, turned to you. Her amber eyes immediately narrowed, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something far more dangerous.
“What is this?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon with a pitchfork. Who were they?”
You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat felt dry, and the words were stuck, lodged somewhere between fear and shame. Finally, you managed to stammer out, “That… That was my ex.”
Lae’zel’s eyes sharpened, her gaze cutting through you like a blade.
“And this is your reaction to a past lover? You are no stranger to affection, but you looked as though the mere touch of them turned your blood to acid.” Her voice lowered, her tone becoming more dangerous. “What did they do to you?”
You tried to explain, but the words faltered. Your lips moved, but the memories caught up with you, dragging you back into a place you didn’t want to revisit. You didn’t need to say it, though—Lae’zel saw the truth in your silence.
She cursed violently in Gith, the harsh, guttural sounds slicing through the air. Her hand tightened around her weapon, and her whole body tensed like a predator ready to strike.
“They hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a growl. “I will take their head and present it to you as a trophy.”
She turned, already scanning the crowd for their retreating form, but you reached out, grabbing her arm.
“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… wait a moment.”
Lae’zel hesitated, her muscles twitching with the need for action, but she stayed. Her eyes never left you as you closed yours and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. She stayed close, her presence grounding you as you forced yourself to let go of the fear and focus on the present.
After a few moments, you opened your eyes and gave her a weak smile.
“Thank you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I just needed a moment.”
Her gaze softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.
“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I will not let this stand.”
You nodded, a small gesture, but it was all she needed. With a fierce grin, she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd, her focus like a blade honed to perfection.
It didn’t take long for her to find them. You followed at a safe distance, your heart racing but unable to stop her now. She caught up to them near a fruit stall, grabbing them by the shoulder and spinning them around. They barely had time to react before Lae’zel shoved them against a wooden post, her face inches from theirs.
“You dare to touch what is mine?” she snarled, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “You have left scars on them that I cannot abide. For that, I will use your head as my footrest.”
The ex stammered, their confidence evaporating under her ferocity. Before they could say anything more, Lae’zel delivered a sharp blow to their stomach, doubling them over. She stepped back, letting them fall to their knees, then stood over them like a conqueror surveying her victory.
Satisfied that her message was clear, she turned and walked back to you, her expression fierce but triumphant.
“It is done,” she said simply. “They will not trouble you again.”
You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you despite the chaos. “Thank you,” you said, reaching out to take her hand.
Her grip was firm, reassuring. “No one hurts you and walks away unscathed,” she said. “Not while I draw breath.”
With that, she led you away, her protective presence a shield against the world.
Shadowheart:
The party was vibrant, full of chatter, music, and laughter. The hum of lively conversation filled the grand hall as you and Shadowheart wove through the crowd, wine glasses in hand. You hadn’t been entirely thrilled about attending, but Shadowheart’s soft insistence and the promise of shared moments made it worthwhile.
That was until you saw them—your ex.
They were standing near the center of a small group, regaling their audience with some elaborate tale, their gestures animated and their voice dripping with charm. Your stomach turned when they noticed you, their expression lighting up with the kind of false familiarity that set your nerves on edge. They sidled over, slipping seamlessly into your space, and before you could react, they had drawn you into their circle.
Shadowheart, ever watchful, stayed close, her sharp eyes flicking between you and your ex.
“We can leave,” she murmured under her breath, her voice calm but concerned. “Say the word.”
You shook your head, managing a strained smile.
“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, though your grip on your glass tightened slightly. You didn’t want to ruin the evening for her.
As the conversation swirled, your ex began telling a story—one about you. They spoke as if the two of you were still an item, peppering their tale with biting remarks and veiled insults.
“Oh, you should’ve seen them back then,” they sneered, “always so scatterbrained. Couldn’t even get through a simple task without my help.”
The group laughed awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension. Your face burned with a mix of anger and humiliation, but before you could find your voice, Shadowheart stepped forward, her demeanor cool and composed, but her eyes as sharp as daggers.
She interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade.
“That reminds me of a story from my past,” she said, her tone conversational yet chilling. The group turned to her, captivated by the quiet authority in her voice. “There was a time when I dealt with an exceptionally arrogant prisoner. They fancied themselves clever—always talking back, thinking they were in control. So I decided to teach them a lesson.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine as if the next part were merely an afterthought. “I ripped out their tongue and fed it to them.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The group stared at her, their eyes wide, as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Your ex, who had been so confident mere moments ago, visibly paled, their mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort.
Shadowheart tilted her head slightly, a faint, dangerous smile playing on her lips. “It’s remarkable how much quieter some people can be after a simple… correction.”
Your ex stammered something unintelligible before hastily excusing themselves, practically fleeing from the room. The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, bubbling sound of relief and delight. You turned to Shadowheart, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.
“Thank you,” you said, grinning. “The look on their face… I’ll treasure that forever.”
Shadowheart leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender yet possessive kiss.
“I love you,” she said softly, her words a vow as much as a declaration.
Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes glinting with something dark and resolute.
“Hold my wine,” she said, pressing her glass into your hand. “There’s something—or rather, someone—I need to deal with.”
Before you could protest, she was gone, her dark hair flowing like a shadow cutting through the crowd. You watched her go, a mixture of admiration and mild terror filling you. Whatever she had in mind, you knew one thing for certain: no one would dare cross her—or you—ever again.
Jaheira:
The warm hum of Jaheira's household had always been a comfort to you. The chatter of the children, the occasional laughter, and the scent of a home-cooked meal mingled with the faint floral aroma of the plants she meticulously tended. You were setting the table, ready to sit down for the evening meal with Jaheira and her family, when an insistent knock sounded at the door.
The sound froze you in place. It wasn’t the friendly, casual knock of a neighbor or friend. No, it was sharp and demanding, like someone who felt entitled to be heard. Dread pooled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You were stronger now, surrounded by people who cared for you.
Still, when you opened the door and saw your ex standing there, their familiar sneer twisting their features, that old fear reared its head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, keeping your voice firm. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
Your ex scoffed, taking a step closer. “I’ll decide where I should be,” they spat. “We have unfinished business.”
Your heart raced, but you held your ground. “Leave,” you repeated, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Now.”
Their response was to shove you—hard. The force sent you stumbling back, and you hit the ground with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of you. Your ex marched inside, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.
“Get out!” you shouted, your voice shaking more than you’d like.
The commotion brought Jaheira’s children rushing into the room. Jhessem and Tate were at your side in an instant, their small hands helping you sit up as they looked at you with wide, worried eyes. Fig, ever the fiery little warrior, grabbed her wooden sword and brandished it at your ex, her small frame trembling but determined.
“You leave them alone!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched but fierce.
Your ex laughed, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. But the laughter died when Jord and Rion stepped forward, their presence filling the room with an almost tangible force.
Jord, tall and broad-shouldered, the half-orc planted himself between the children and your ex.
“You’ve got two seconds to get out of this house,” he said, his voice low and rumbling with warning.
Rion, her sharp features twisted into a glare that could cut stone, pointed a finger at your ex.
“You do not belong here,” she said, her tone icy. “Leave before I make you.”
Despite the bravery of Jaheira’s children, you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, positioning yourself between them and your ex.
“This isn’t their fight,” you said firmly, your voice stronger now as you faced your abuser. “Leave them out of this. Leave us alone.”
Your ex sneered, taking a step toward you, but before they could say another word, the sound of measured, deliberate footsteps echoed from the staircase. Everyone turned as Jaheira descended, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
She took in the scene at a glance—the children bristling with protective anger, you standing tense and pale, and your ex, whose presence tainted the very air. Her expression darkened like a storm cloud.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Your ex, ever the fool, sneered. “Just having a little chat.”
Jaheira’s gaze flicked to you. “Are they threatening you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.
Before you could answer, your ex made the mistake of laughing. “This is none of your business, old woman.”
Jaheira didn’t respond with words. Instead, she raised a hand, her fingers curling in a subtle motion. Thorned vines erupted from the floor, twisting and writhing like living snakes. They wrapped around your ex with terrifying speed, pinning their arms to their sides and tightening until they yelped in pain.
“Get them out of here,” Jaheira commanded, her voice like steel.
The vines obeyed, dragging your ex toward the door. They thrashed and cursed, but the thorns only dug in deeper. With a final, satisfying motion, the vines flung them out into the street. The door slammed shut behind them, and the vines retracted as if they had never been.
Jaheira turned to you, her eyes softening. You immediately started to apologize, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “Jaheira, I’m so sorry—I never thought they’d come here. I never wanted to put you or your children in danger—”
“Stop being ridiculous,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. She stepped closer, her hands cupping your face as she looked you over. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m okay.”
“Good,” she said, her hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’ve been through enough tonight. Rest now.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Jord said, already heading toward the kitchen with calm efficiency.
Fig tugged at your sleeve, her wooden sword still clutched in her hand. “We’ll always help you,” she said, her voice small but fierce.
You managed a smile, ruffling her hair. “Thank you, Fig.”
Jaheira wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the sitting area.
“You’re safe here,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “No one—no one—will ever hurt you again.”
As you sank into the cushions, the tension slowly leaving your body, you felt the warmth of Jaheira’s family around you. They had rallied to protect you without hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe.
Gale:
The cozy, labyrinthine aisles of Sorcerous Sundries stretched out around you, their shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls that hummed with latent magic. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding and soothing. You and Gale had been immersed in your own quiet exploration, each lost in the treasure trove of knowledge. Every so often, you’d exchange a snippet of discovery—a passage here, a glyph there—but for the most part, it was a shared silence, warm and comfortable.
As your fingers trailed over the spine of a particularly aged tome, its title caught your eye: The Heart of Aetherial Bonds. Intrigued, you flipped it open and found a passage that immediately reminded you of Gale. The words were poetic, a reflection on the ties between love and magic, the way one could amplify the other. A small smile tugged at your lips. He would love this.
“Gale,” you called softly, tucking the book under your arm as you began to weave through the aisles, searching for him.
Your steps were light as you rounded a corner, spotting a familiar silhouette a few shelves away.
“There you are,” you began, but as the figure turned, the words died in your throat.
It wasn’t Gale.
Your blood ran cold as you recognized them—your ex. The person who had haunted your past, whose shadow you had thought you’d escaped. Their eyes lit up with a twisted glee, and before you could move, they stepped forward and grabbed your arm in an iron grip.
“I can’t believe it,” they said, their voice dripping with possessive satisfaction. “I’ve been searching for you, and here you are.”
“Let go of me,” you said firmly, trying to pull away. Their grip only tightened, the familiar pain radiating up your arm.
“You’re coming home,” they hissed, their tone leaving no room for argument.
Your heart pounded as you pushed against their hold, your voice shaking. “You’re hurting me—let go.”
But just as before, they didn’t listen. Their other hand reached to grip your shoulder, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm you.
Then, the air shifted. A crackling sound filled the room, sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. A chill ran down your spine as the oppressive grip on your arm faltered. Both you and your ex turned toward the source of the energy.
Gale stood at the end of the aisle, his form illuminated by a pulsing, arcane light. His expression was unlike anything you had seen before—fierce, unyielding, his eyes glowing with a raw, dangerous power. Magic swirled around him, forming tendrils of energy that snapped and sparked against the air.
“Release them,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl.
Your ex hesitated, their bravado wavering as the sheer intensity of Gale’s presence bore down on them.
“This isn’t your business, mage” they spat, but their voice lacked conviction.
“Oh, but it is,” Gale said, his hands lifting as the magic in the air intensified. “You’ve made it so.”
Before another word could be uttered, a blinding flash of energy erupted from Gale’s outstretched palms. The searing light enveloped your ex, their scream cut short as their form disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint, acrid scent and a smudge of dust on the floor. The magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air still and silent.
Gale was at your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face as he looked you over.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft now, filled with worry.
You shook your head, tears welling up as the adrenaline drained from your body.
“I—I’m okay,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the weight of what had just happened settled over you. The tension in your body melted as you buried your face in his chest, the faint scent of his robes and the comforting hum of his magic grounding you. Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped, the fear and relief spilling out all at once.
“It’s over,” Gale murmured, his hand gently stroking your back. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming against your ear. After a while, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was a mixture of concern and quiet anger, his protective instincts still on high alert.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere.
He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out.”
Astarion:
The lively hum of the tavern wrapped around you like a familiar cloak, its warmth and noise a welcome respite from the chaos of adventuring. You sat at a corner table with Astarion, his sharp wit and flair for drama turning a mundane evening into something delightfully entertaining. Together, you exchanged hushed gossip about the other patrons—their fashion choices, their whispered secrets—and laughed at his outrageous commentary.
“Oh, look at him,” Astarion murmured, tilting his head toward a burly man near the bar, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’d wager he’s had one too many pies—and just one too many wives, judging by that tan line on his ring finger.”
You snorted into your drink, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And yet, you adore me,” he said with a playful smirk. He lifted your glass with a flourish. “Speaking of adoration, I’ll be a dear and fetch you a refill. Don’t miss me too much.”
You grinned, watching as Astarion sashayed toward the bar, his charm radiating even in the simplest of tasks. Leaning back, you took a moment to enjoy the bustling atmosphere, but your peace shattered as a shadow fell over your table.
Your stomach churned as you turned to see your ex standing there, their presence as unwelcome as a dagger in the back. Without waiting for an invitation, they slid into Astarion’s vacated seat, their grin sending a chill down your spine.
“Well, well,” they said, leaning closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”
You stiffened, your pulse quickening. “Leave,” you said coldly, standing abruptly. “This isn’t the place, and I have nothing to say to you.”
But as you turned to leave, their hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back with a cruel force. A sharp yelp escaped your lips as pain flared along your scalp.
“You think you can just walk away from me?” they snarled, their grip tightening. You tried to swing at them, but panic muddled your movements, and they easily avoided your weak attempts to break free. The room seemed to close in, the once-lively chatter of the tavern fading into a distant hum as fear took hold.
And then, just as suddenly, the pressure on your scalp vanished. You staggered forward, catching yourself on the edge of the table, and turned to see your ex frozen in place. A knife glinted at their throat, a thin line of blood already welling against the blade’s edge. Behind them stood Astarion, his expression icy and predatory.
“I’ve been dying for a fresh kill tonight,” Astarion purred, his voice dangerously low. “And it seems you’ve volunteered. How considerate.”
Your ex’s bravado crumbled as they began to stammer, their hands raised in shaky surrender. Astarion’s grip on the knife didn’t waver, his sharp eyes flicking to you.
“Darling,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “this one’s causing you trouble, isn’t he?”
You met his gaze, your scalp still throbbing but your heart swelling with gratitude. Nodding slowly, you gave him permission with a single, deliberate motion of your head.
Astarion’s smile widened, and he dragged your ex out of the tavern with an almost casual ease, ignoring their sputtered protests. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the danger in his stride. You stayed behind, nursing your scalp and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Astarion returned, brushing off his hands as though he’d simply taken out the trash.
“All taken care of,” he said, his tone light as he reached for you, cupping your face gently. “Let me see—did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I—I could have handled it.”
Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand trailing down to rest on your shoulder.
“Oh, please, my love,” he said with mock exasperation. “You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. Let me have this one.”
You sighed, relenting. “Thank you, Astarion.”
He smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re welcome, darling. But seriously, are you okay? That brute—”
You interrupted him with a nod, placing a hand over his. “I am now. Because I’m with you.”
His expression softened, the predatory edge replaced by something tender.
“Always,” he murmured, his voice a promise. With a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of the tavern, away from the echoes of the past and into the safe haven of his presence.
Wyll:
The ballroom of the Ulder Ravengard's estate was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Noblemen and women in resplendent attire swayed to the music of a skilled orchestra, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. You and Wyll had been thoroughly enjoying yourselves, weaving through the room, gossiping about fashion choices and laughing at poorly-hidden flirtations among the elite.
Wyll, as always, moved with an effortless charm that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He introduced you to old friends, clinking glasses with ease, his laugh rich and genuine. His warmth was contagious, and you found yourself at ease in a social world that might have otherwise intimidated you. But when Wyll excused himself to chat with a group of friends near the wine table, you waved him off with a smile, happy to people-watch for a while.
A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. A hand reached out, beckoning you to the dance floor. You assumed it was a friend or an acquaintance and allowed yourself to be led. But as you turned, your stomach plummeted. Your blood ran cold.
It was them.
Your abusive ex stood before you, their grin as sharp and cruel as you remembered. It was a grin that promised pain masked under a veneer of charm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but their grip only tightened, their fingers digging into your wrist.
“Don’t look so surprised,” they said smoothly, their voice low and venomous. “You didn’t think you could escape me forever, did you?”
“This isn’t the time or place,” you hissed, keeping your voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. “Let me go.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” they replied, their grip tightening further as they began to lead you into a slow, swaying dance. Their tone was soft, deceptively sweet, but their eyes glinted with malice. “You owe me this much, at least. Don’t make a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your fancy boyfriend or his oh-so-important father, would you?”
Your heart raced as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your ear.
“You think you’ve moved on, don’t you? That you can just walk away from what we had? You’re mine, and you always will be.” You tried to twist out of their grip, panic rising in your chest.
“Let go of me,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.
Their smile only widened. “Oh I don’t think so,” they said, their voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to regret leaving me.”
You braced yourself, half-expecting them to lash out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, followed by gasps from nearby guests.
Opening your eyes, you saw your ex sprawled on the polished floor, clutching their face. Blood gushed from their nose, staining their pristine clothing. Standing over them, his posture rigid with fury, was Wyll. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a simmering rage that made the air around him feel electric.
“Touch them again,” Wyll growled, his voice low and deadly, “and a broken nose will be the least of your worries.”
Your ex scrambled backward on the floor, their bravado shattered as they stared up at Wyll in terror. Before they could say anything, a pair of Flaming Fist guards appeared, having been alerted by the commotion. Wyll waved them over, his eyes never leaving your ex.
“Take them,” Wyll ordered, his voice firm. “They’re disturbing the peace.”
The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed your ex by the arms and hauled them to their feet, ignoring their sputtering protests and threats. As they dragged your ex away, Wyll finally turned to you, his expression softening in an instant.
“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. His warm brown eyes scanned you for any sign of injury.
“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Wyll, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”
“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. This isn’t on you.”
The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to your eyes. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he whispered soothing words into your ear. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of his presence.
When you finally pulled back, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
You nodded, your breath evening out as the panic subsided. “Thank you, Wyll.”
He kissed your forehead tenderly before taking your hand in his.
“Come, my love,” he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “Let’s get you a fresh drink. We’ve both earned it tonight.”
And with that, he led you away from the gawking crowd, his protective arm wrapped securely around you, a silent promise that no harm would come to you as long as he was by your side.
Halsin:
The forest was tranquil, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the dense canopy of leaves. You moved between patches of wildflowers, humming a tune as you gathered handfuls of blooms for the orphans back at the grove. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and moss, and for a time, you felt entirely at peace.
Your basket was nearly full when a faint rustling behind you caught your attention. You paused, glancing over your shoulder, but the forest appeared empty. Shrugging it off as a rabbit or some other harmless creature, you bent down to pluck a cluster of bright yellow flowers. You didn’t notice the shaggy, wiry wolf stalking closer, its pale eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.
Suddenly, the wolf sprang from the underbrush, a blur of fur and teeth. You gasped as it collided with you, the force of the pounce knocking you to the ground. Its heavy paws pinned you to the forest floor, the breath driven from your lungs as you struggled beneath its weight.
Before you could scream, the wolf began to shift. Fur melted into skin, limbs elongated, and in moments, you were staring into the face of your abusive ex. The recognition hit you like a blow to the chest, your blood running cold.
“You,” you breathed, horrified, and immediately began to struggle.
They leaned closer, their wild eyes gleaming with an unnerving fervor.
“Did you miss me, darling?” they crooned, their voice dripping with mock affection. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t let you go, not like that.”
“Get off me!” you snapped, shoving at their chest with all your strength. Your heart pounded as you tried to call for help, but their hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.
“Shh,” they whispered, their grin twisting into something darker. “Don’t make this difficult. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
Panic surged through you, and you did the only thing you could think of—you bit down hard on the palm of their hand. They hissed in pain but didn’t flinch away, instead smirking as if they found your resistance amusing.
“Still feisty,” they murmured, their tone infuriatingly condescending. “I’ve always loved that about—”
Their words were cut off by a deafening roar, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest. A massive brown bear charged out of the trees, barreling into your ex with bone-crushing force. The impact sent them flying, their body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.
The bear was relentless. Your ex shifted back into their wolf form, snarling as they tried to defend themselves, but they were no match for the sheer ferocity of Halsin. His claws tore through fur and flesh with savage precision, his roar echoing through the woods as he drove your ex deeper into retreat. When the wolf finally lay broken and bloodied, it whimpered and slunk away, disappearing into the underbrush.
Halsin remained in bear form for a moment longer, his massive chest heaving as he watched the wolf flee. Only when he was certain the threat was gone did he shift back, his towering frame immediately rushing to your side.
“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees and cradling your face in his large hands. His amber eyes scanned you for injuries, his expression a mixture of worry and fury. “What did they do to you?”
“I’m okay,” you said, your voice trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. “I’m just… shaken up.”
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His embrace was almost crushing, but you didn’t mind—you needed the grounding warmth of his presence as much as he needed the reassurance that you were safe. You buried your face against his chest, clinging to him as your body trembled.
“I should have been here sooner,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”
You rested your head against his chest, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe your frayed nerves. “You were here when I needed you,” you reassured him. “That’s all that matters.”
Halsin pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. He didn’t let go, and you didn’t ask him to. In that moment, being in his arms was the safest place in the world.
[If you or anyone that you know of has experienced behaviors like this please do not hesitate to contact your local authority]
oof that was a bit of a heavy one but i hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
More Posts from Blasphemous-riot and Others
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list
@salem-witch-slut
⭒ Prostitution
Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.
⭒ These Trembling Hands
Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.
@sunflowerwinds
⭒ Gentle Touch
you take care of sevika, jinx, and isha after the fight with vi and caitlyn. sevika, for the first time in a long time, breaks down when you remind of her that it’s okay to let go.
⭒ Hers
your bright personality unexpectedly draws in sevika and she can’t help but fall for you. when finn makes a comment that he can’t take back, sevika reminds him and you how much you mean to her.
@creatur3featur3
⭒ Street Rat
part one | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
thank you for the tag @abbysgolf-club ( ◜‿◝ )♡
So here's my list<<
• Hozier- Take me to church
• Connie Francis- Stupid Cupid
• Ruth Etting - It All Belongs to me
• Rahat Fateh Ali Khan- Afreen Afreen
• Adele- Easy on me
• Avril Lavigne- Hello Kitty
• 6arelyhuman & Horrormovies- XOXO (Kisses hugs)
• Cavetown- fall in love with a girl
• Atif Aslam- Tu Chahiyew
Aurora- The Seed
• Taylor Swift- Safe and sound
• Chappel Roan- Femininomenon
• Olivia Rodrigo- Brutal
• Lana del Ray- Dark Paradise
• Twenty One Pilots- The line
My tags are @ditzycafe and @IIIIzn9090
"If I cannot be wanted, I will be needed and if I cannot be needed let me be used until there's nothing left of me."
I swear I heard this quote and their faces just popped up in my head both Sevika and Vi even though hold polar opposite views and stand on opposite sides still manage to be unbelievably similar to eachother how they both at the end of the day are big emotionally messed up kind hearted women whose situations just made it impossible for them to love freely and of course live without opression god I am so down bad...
cw: sub-bottom vi. fem-top reader. mild age gap (vi is older than you). strap-on referred to as cock.
synopsis: you can’t stay away from your best friend’s older sister.
you tell yourself that it’s just a fleeting crush, one that will fade with time, but it never does—not when vi ruffles your hair in passing, or when she drapes one of her strong arms around your shoulders, or when she teases you in that low, knowing voice that makes heat coil in your belly.
then, the line you swore you’d never cross fades into obscurity—because vi is lying beneath you in her childhood bed, keening every time your strap-on stabs into her cervix, whining high in her throat. her pussy squelches wetly—noisy and lewd—and the pink tufts of hair on her mound are damp from her own juices.
she looks veritably whorish.
of course, guilt lingers in the back of your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. powder will be pissed when she finds out—there’s no doubt about that—but honestly, how can she expect you to stay away from her sister when vi spreads her legs so eagerly for you? when her little hole is so needy for your cock? this was inevitable, really.
“hnnghh! ohhh, shit—haaah!” she pants as you rock your hips.
vi’s childhood bedroom is dusty and obsolete—neglected ever since she moved out. the worn fabric of her (embarrassingly juvenile) spider-man sheets clings to damp skin, except you hardly notice it; all you can focus on is vi—her rosy cheeks, her blown pupils, her trembling muscles. violet, violet, violet.
surely this must be a dream, because there’s no way you’re actually fucking your best friend’s big, bad older sister—turning her into a mewling kitten on your cock. but it’s real; you can feel it with the her calloused hands grip onto your shoulders, trying to keep herself tethered, as if she needs comfort with the way you’re bullying her pussy.
god, her cunt smells ripe, it’s glistening with arousal—she’s your very own forbidden fruit.
winding your hips back, you groan at the way vi’s pussy is clinging onto your strap. it’s rather adorable that she has such a desperate little cunt. who would’ve guessed that vi, all sharp edges and snarled confidence, would melt into such a docile sweetheart when she has her hole filled? when the right button is pressed against deep inside her gummy walls?
her cheap, rickety twin-bed slams against the wall with each thrust, loud and jarring like the bang of a gunshot. “unghh! not so rough, fuck—“ vi gasps.
jeez, vi is ridiculous, acting as if you don’t know exactly what she needs. if anything, she needs it rougher; you’re being far too tender. still, it’s cute and mildly humorous when vi acts like her pussy isn’t desperate for you, like you don’t know how to fuck her correctly, as if you don’t know her body better than she does. it’s evident that you’re the only one able to fill her cunt just right—scratching the itch that she, herself, can’t even reach.
“shut up,” you say, palm clasping over her mouth. “you don’t want your sister to hear us, right?”
you can feel the way her nose crinkles like a bunny’s underneath your hand. a flicker of guilt crosses over her face as she remembers the weight of her lust, the delicious wrongness of this entire situation, and how awful she is for wanting you anyway.
“fuck, can you not bring—unghhh—bring that up r-right now?” vi says, muffled. then she keens when the pad of your thumbs finds her clit, pressing down with perfect, punishing precision.
“relax, vi. just focus on how deep i am inside you, how good i’m making you feel. let go for me, yeah?” you coo, and vi whimpers like a stray dog—big, blue puppy eyes and all.
still, despite how wrong this all is, a dark thrill coils in your chest as you watch vi’s internal struggle—how she tries so hard to resist your temptations, clings to the idea of being a good big sister—but vi’s body always betrays her in the end, and her pussy abruptly paints your abdomen in her saccharine squirt.
taglist: @2ftall @jinxedbambi @mxchi-mxxn @maddiluvsu @just4jinx @rhian88
Hiiii! Can you do arcane women having “I’m not better than a man” moment?
of course! thank you for the request <3
sunder by hibou on repeat rn
summary; arcane women having an ‘i’m no better than a man’ moment (aka being distracted by your assets).
characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, maddie.
tags/warnings; SUGGESTIVE, no explicit nsfw, fluff, mentions of drinking, crack kinda, arcane women being whipped for u
men and minors dni.
jinx;
✧.* jinx is a tit girl, no doubt about it. she doesn’t care the size, the shape, how they sit, she’s just utterly obsessed with your boobs. she tries to keep her hands to herself, she really does, but sometimes she just can’t help herself.
✧.* though she does have to show some self-restraint sometimes, as torturous as that is. as much as she'd love to, jinx knows it's probably best that she doesn't smother you and keeps her hands to herself until you're behind closed doors... which makes days like this so difficult.
✧.* today, it's hot out, and zaun gets humid. for that reason it's optimal to dress wisely, you'd picked a simple tank top and pair of loose-fitting shorts in hopes of not sweating yourself half to death. you and jinx had a day planned together, a day of visiting street vendors and exploring the undercity. not much necessarily, but you've found that anything can be fun as long as jinx is around.
✧.* you've run a bit late, and you're internally hoping that your girlfriend won't be mad. she's never exactly punctual herself, but you always feel awful running behind on plans with her. what if she thinks you stood her up, or even left her? though your worries melt off of you as you step into her view, and you see her lips curling into a smile.
✧.* "hey, babe, i'm so sorry for the wait, i was running l-" you're cut off by jinx's index finger on your lips, while her own tug into that grin you've come to love. "don't worry about it, you're here now."
✧.* within seconds, you're grabbing her hand and leading her right into the street market, eager to make up for lost time. jinx thanks janna above that you're preoccupied with looking for a stall to visit, because her gaze is... elsewhere.
✧.* naturally, with it being warmer out today, you'd opted to wear lighter clothing. this included a spaghetti-strap tank top with a very low neckline, where she could see your cleavage just right. her mind immediately went to all the places she knows it shouldn't. you're in public, in broad daylight. but they're right there, and she can't help it.
✧.* what would it look like if you bent over- would they start spilling out? or if you started bouncing on your heels? she thought about how she could see your bra straps, how she might be able to see the clasp from the back. what she'd do to unclasp it right now.
✧.* you pull her to a stall with old records, seemingly donated or imported from piltover. they're not exactly cheap- but still, they're nice to look at. you and your girlfriend have spent many an hour browsing stands like this, with jinx swiping a few vinyls for her stereo more often than not.
✧.* the boxes of records instantly draw you in, all organized by genre and decade. you take a record from one of the first boxes you see, holding it up for jinx- this is one you've been looking for for months, and they have it. finally.
✧.* "baby, look!" you smile, holding the record up. her eyebrows raise, jinx has clearly heard you, but her gaze is... downcast. "uh, babe? what's wrong?" until it clicks. she's looking at your tits.
✧.* "oh- jinx!" you gasp, as one of your hands flies to cover your cleavage. it's a playful gesture, yet still earns a scoff from the girl. she rolls her eyes in response, her voice slightly exasperated. "what? they're right there, and you expect me not to look?"
✧.* this only earns a light shove on the shoulder from you before you return to browsing through records. it's almost comical how hard it is for jinx to resist looking at you like this, but you can't exactly complain.
vi;
✧.* you and vi visit a sports bar in piltover around once a month now. you've made it a routine after she stumbled upon the place by chance, and you both ended up actually enjoying the experience. the bartenders were friendly, the drinks were fairly priced (for piltover), and the patrons were respectful enough.
✧.* it was the same routine: you'd tell vi when you were on your way, she'd swing by your place to pick you up, you'd walk hand-in-hand or with linked elbows to the bar, and you'd have a few hours of fun.
✧.* it's no different this time, with you slipping on a simple yet fun outfit for your night out. vi wasn't ever much of one for dressing up, but she tried for you, and it was always adorable seeing her efforts.
✧.* so when vi shows up at your door and hears a shouted "coming!" from inside, she's rocking back and forth on her heels, anxiously waiting your arrival. she just saw you a few days ago, yet she already misses you- can you blame her?
✧.* you swing the door open with a soft smile on your face, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you make your way down the steps to take vi into your arms, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "hi, baby," you hum, smiling into the skin. "hi, cupcake. i missed you. you ready?"
✧.* with a nod, the two of you head off. vi had noticed your outfit when you opened the door- a simple lacy tank top with black bell-bottom jeans. it was simple, a bit dressy, but appropriate for the location. yet it wasn't until you turned around to lock the door before taking her hand that she noticed your ass.
✧.* she takes hold of your hand, taking the short walk to the bar with you. though her hand is clammy, more than usual, and she's trying so damn hard to focus on what you're saying to her while she can only think of how incredible you look in those pants. how much better you'd look if she took them off.
✧.* "so then my manager said i needed to ease up on the customers, but i was just being fair! he told them the same thing i did!" "i- yeah, that's not good. not good at all."
✧.* you both arrive at the spot, take your usual place at the bar. the bartender greets you, seemingly a new one- but she seems friendly enough. you both order your usual drinks, but you're still hung up on the work situation you'd been ranting about. you need to get it off your chest, and vi has always been such a good listener.
✧.* with your elbows braced on the bar counter, you turn back to her, "i mean, i just don't understand why the need to be so adamant! i told them that we were out of it, what did they expect?"
✧.* though your girlfriend seems to be distracted still, with her blue eyes fixated.. somewhere else. you can't figure out exactly where, though. snapping your fingers a few inches from her face seems to do the trick, though, as she quickly shakes her head. "huh?"
✧.* "are you listening?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i- yeah, i'm listening! your manager, a customer insisting on something that you don't have, uh..."
✧.* you nod slowly, raising a brow. she's listening enough to catch the gist of it, though the girl's tone is starting to worry on you. still waiting on those drinks, you lean a bit closer. "hey, what's up? is something wrong? you seem kinda distracted."
✧.* it's in that moment that vi feels her heart drop. she's been caught. she has no other option than to simply confess, or that's what she thinks.
✧.* "i'm sorry, it's just... your ass looks really good in those jeans."
✧.* your eyes widen for only a moment, and vi is preparing for the worst to happen. she's never shied from intimacy or letting you know the depths of her attraction, but while you're trying to talk to her? the last thing she wants is to be disrespectful. though what follows isn't you getting up, isn't a scoff or you telling her off. it's a bark of laughter, followed by a gentle shove of the shoulder.
✧.* "come on, you could've just told me that! i knew they were doing something for me, but damn!"
mel;
✧.* mel frequently brings you to gatherings. aside from being an influential councilwoman, she's also something of a socialite. being a woman of high status like herself and having the influence she does, she has to get out, to network, make meaningful connections that will not only help her career, but serve as good friendships.
✧.* and mel has never been shy about you, either. while she believes the personal details of your relationship should be kept private (for the most part), she also adores you, and wants the entire city to see that. it's often that you'll be her date to galas, to conferences, to progress day celebrations of all kinds.
✧.* when your girlfriend invites you along to a cocktail party, it's nothing out of the ordinary. she tells you that the dress code is formal, the venue is small yet still lavish- as always. she'll arrange transportation for you, and meet you in the lobby so you can go together.
✧.* choosing a dress certainly took time, though it was an effort you enjoyed. you'd never been one for events or clothes like this before meeting mel, but getting to be part of her world was fun. seeing the life of a powerful politician and socialite like herself was exciting, something entirely new to you.
✧.* you didn't see the point in buying outfits you'd only wear once, though, so you took to rentals for these events. deciding on a cocktail dress proved a bit more tricky than others, but you managed after several hours of trying on garments, switching sizes, checking price tags, and asking for second opinions from shop attendants. a long satin dress in a dark color with a slit up the right side. not too pretentious for an event like this, but far from casual.
✧.* after arriving at the venue, you'd taken a moment to simply take in your surroundings. white marble floors, gold accents on the doorways, marble pillars and framed portraits in the lobby. the attention to detail in this place was nothing short of incredible.
✧.* "there you are," you hear from behind you, prompting you to turn over your shoulder. a smile tugs at the corner of your lips the moment you recognize who it is. "i couldn't find you. i was getting worried."
✧.* mel places a light kiss on both cheeks, before pulling back to take your hand. though as she pulls back, she can't help noticing the slit up your dress, and just how high it runs. it stops just below your hip, and shows off the smooth skin below when you step to the side. it's tantilizing.
✧.* though she's a professional. she swallows, she rolls her shoulders back, and leads you into the main room. she has to keep herself under control- not just for your sake, but for the public's. what would the other guests do if they saw her looking at your legs like that?
✧.* and still, with a cocktail in one hand and her own hand in the other, even as you're making small talk with other guests, mel can't help her wandering eyes. lingering on that oh so high opening along your dress. her mind drifts to what's under that, how much she'd love to tear that dress off of you right now- but she can't. so she takes a quick sip of her drink, and tries to distract herself.
✧.* yet as soon as you notice exactly where her eyes are, you can't help the low chuckle that escapes you as you teasingly stick your leg out just a little more, revealing that much more of your upper thigh. "distracted, miss medarda?"
✧.* "i'm not distracted," she protests, but you can hear the hitch in her breath when you step out just that bit more. "gods, that isn't fair."
✧.* you only roll your eyes in response, giving her hand a firm squeeze. "save it for later," you whisper. a promise- something to look forward to. "we've gotta behave for now."
✧.* mel isn't able to focus on much else for the rest of the night, to say the very least.
sevika;
✧.* you and sevika live together, for the most part. although you've still got your own place that you pay rent on, you're at sevika's more often than not. it's small, rather run-down and cramped, but it's home. she keeps it clean, keeps your belongings around so that it feels more familiar, even started burning candles once you started coming around for a more welcoming atmosphere. she cares, she truly does.
✧.* though there are some times you want to take some time to yourself. sevika gets it. she's been by herself for much of her life, and the only person occupying her living space would be her. if you need a day or two every few weeks to yourself, then so be it.
✧.* you parted with a kiss to her cheek, and a whispered, "i'll be back, baby." she has your number, so it's not like you won't be talking- and your address, in case of an emergency.
✧.* the two days you took to yourself were uneventful, spent relaxing. you'd read a book, cleaned the place, caught up on laundry, rearranged furniture (several times, out of indecisiveness) and called your girlfriend at odd hours of the night to hear her rough voice. though you decided it was time to go back once you noticed there was nothing left to do, nothing you wanted to do. you enjoyed your own company, but you were ready to be in sevika's.
✧.* you'd worn a simple bralette and pair of sweatpants to her doorstep, your overnight bag slung over your shoulder. you clicked your key into the lock, slowly pushing the door open and stepping into the living room. you never had to announce yourself, sevika was usually there.
✧.* though as she looks up from the book she's reading, you swear you can see her eyes widen. if only for a moment. it's unclear what exactly they're focused on, but you assume it has something to do with your choice of outfit.
✧.* "sorry, didn't feel like a shirt today," you chuckle, situating yourself next to sevika on the couch. placing your overnight bag on one of her side tables, you look up at her, and now you see. now you can see very clearly that your girlfriend's light eyes are lingering on your breasts, and the fact that the lace of the bralette is rather... sheer.
✧.* "yeah, uh- don't worry about it," she mutters, her eyes flitting to the side. for the love of janna, you've just gotten back. she can't be all over you right now. "you... you can start unpacking, if you want."
✧.* you cast her a sidelong glance, though slowly get up from the couch. you take the bag and unzip it, beginning to take out some clean clothes you've brought and turning on your heel to put them away in her room. yet still, you feel sevika's gaze lingering on you. on your tits.
✧.* "that distracting, huh?" you tease, casting a look over your shoulder. sevika lets out a heavy sigh, but nods- there's no point in denying it. she's never been particularly shy about her fondness for your boobs, either. "yeah. something like that."
caitlyn;
✧.* you and caitlyn have a dinner date planned tonight. it's the day before your anniversary- you would've loved to celebrate on the actual day, but something that your girlfriend couldn't get out of came up at work. though it wasn't ideal, you understood. you still have today to celebrate, don't you?
✧.* so naturally, you pulled one of your best dresses from your closet to wear. a light color that compliments your complexion, something simple enough that it's not too much for a restaurant- but still formal enough for the occasion.
✧.* caitlyn had also taken care to wear one of her best dresses, style her hair, do her makeup in a way she knew would draw you in (despite you thinking she's beautiful no matter what she does).
✧.* you'd agreed to meet each other at the place, but caitlyn had taken care to make sure it was within walking distance from both of you. the attention your girlfriend paid to detail never ceased to amaze you, neither did her consideration.
✧.* upon arriving at the restaurant, you take a few moments waiting. you sit down on one of the benches offered, patient, until a hostess spots you and asks if you need help. you inform her that you're waiting for somebody, only to be told that caitlyn is already sat at your table. you're at the table within seconds.
✧.* "i'm so sorry, i didn't keep you waiting, did i?" you breathe out, slinging your bag over the back of the chair. "not at all," she assures, giving a gentle smile. her piercing blue eyes soften every time they fix on you, something you've come to know and love. "i got here early, anyways. i'm just glad you're here."
✧.* but before you sit down, cait's eyes travel down, down, to your hips. the way the dress you chose perfectly hugs them and accentuates the curve. she's always had such a weak spot for those hips, and this dress isn't helping.
✧.* "...you look beautiful, by the way," she says, clearing her throat shortly thereafter. you're in public, caitlyn, behave yourself. she orders her food, she makes small talk with you over your drinks, she makes a point to try and distract herself with the fact it's your anniversary. this is a refined celebration, anything else can wait for later.
✧.* and it's working, until you tell your girlfriend that you have to go to the bathroom quickly, you'll be back. you step out to the side to get up, and her eyes are immediately drawn back to your hips and just how incredible they look in that dress. then you turn to walk in the direction of the bathroom, she sees them sway, and caitlyn is gone. her mind wanders to how they'd look if she pulled your skirt up just that bit, or how they'd look bent over her desk.
✧.* caitlyn tries to finish her meal in peace, she really does. but she finds it increasingly difficult with just how distracted she is. once you return, she's flushed, she's playing with her food, she's stumbling over her words. "cait, baby, is everything alright?"
✧.* "mhm. yes, yes, everything is wonderful. don't worry about me," she rushes out, taking a quick bite of her food. though something tells you she's not telling the full truth- but by the flush dusting her cheeks and the tips of her ears, you have a feeling you'll find out later.
maddie;
✧.* you and maddie have frequent sleepovers, alternating between your own apartment and hers. it's a routine of sorts: maddie will come to your place after work with a bag full of her things for the night, greet you with a kiss on the cheek and a firm embrace. she often brings gifts for you as well: little things. snacks, a bracelet she saw while window shopping, the likes.
✧.* today is no different. maddie had to take a double at work, so she's taking a bit longer than usual, but this isn't out of the ordinary. being a junior officer is nothing if not time-consuming. until then, you've decided to occupy yourself by making dinner for your girlfriend. she's done all this work, she deserves it- besides, you know she'd do the same for you.
✧.* it's rather late, you having already showered and changed into your pajamas. you've eaten your dinner, now it's just a waiting game for your girlfriend.
✧.* as soon as maddie walks in the door, she's hit by the aroma of dinner cooking. her favorite, too. it's a familiar smell, and makes her all the more eager to finally see you. though when she walks into the kitchen, she sees you in a loose tee, and... sleep shorts. tight ones, that hug the shape of your ass just right. maddie's always had something of a dirty mind, and it immediately goes to all the things she could be doing with that ass. but she hasn't even said hello yet.
✧.* so she forces herself to reign it in, snaking her arms around your waist from behind. the girl rests her chin on your shoulder, gently brushing her lips against your temple. "hi, gorgeous," she hums, nestling a bit closer to you. "sorry i took so long."
✧.* you shake your head, giving her a reassuring smile before kissing her cheek in return. "don't worry about it. i know how work is. dinner's almost ready, okay?"
✧.* she nods in response, but doesn't loosen her grip on you. she's glad you're doing this for her. you've always been so thoughtful, so sweet when it comes to her, but still, her mind keeps going back to how incredible you look in those shorts. how badly she wants to take them off.
✧.* once you announce that dinner is ready and set down a steaming plate on the table, maddie reluctantly pulls herself from you to sit down. she starts eating, of course. she's grateful for what you've done for her. "i'm gonna clean up a bit, okay?" you hum, before turning back to the counter, and maddie nearly chokes.
✧.* she's watching you move swiftly throughout the kitchen- wiping down the counter, organizing spices, washing dishes, cleaning cabinet handles. yet she's not watching any of the actual tasks, only the way you look in those little sleep shorts. good gods.
✧.* but you can feel her gaze on you from behind, searing into you. burning, almost. without turning around, you pause at one of the cabinets. "...you're staring," you state. not a question, but an observation. "is it that interesting?"
✧.* maddie takes a moment to swallow, slowly shaking her head as if you could see her. "not exactly, just... you look amazing in those shorts, yeah?"
𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ✶⋆.˚ 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁
no warnings—just fluff.
𑄝⌇sevika is surprisingly sweet with kids.. calmer, softer, careful. but for some reason, kids never like her. they avoid to be in the same place as her and shrink away the moment she steps near. it makes your piss boil. one time, a particular four-year-old piece of shit had the audacity to burst into tears just because sevika glanced in his direction. without hesitation, you ‘accidentally’ nudged your foot forward, just enough to make him trip over. sevika nearly choked on her own spit trying to hold in her laugh as she watched your proud little smug smile.
𑄝⌇whenever you and sevika go out for dinner or a little get together, you always end up playing a game—cards, never have i ever, uno.. any silly game you two can think of. for some reason, every single time, you two end up getting so excited about it that you attract glances from everyone around. “draw four, pretty girl.” she smirks. “girl—fuck you.”
𑄝⌇sevika has an insane amount of pain tolerance—but she will always have the biggest fear of colds, fevers, or anything that causes headaches in general. you always stay by her side and make her a hot drink. she’s always wrapped in a blanket like a little worm as she watches you make her flavored tea, too.
𑄝⌇sevika loves nose kisses—loves giving them as well as receiving them.
𑄝⌇sevika never feels the need to brag about you in public. she doesn’t need to tell people how perfect, cute, or adorable you are—she already knows. to her, that’s something personal, something just for the two of you.
𑄝⌇sevika has an impeccable sense of fashion, and because of that, you’re always up her ass, whining for her to pick out your outfit from head to toe. “those jeans are ass,” she scrunches her nose in mild disgust. “you’re only saying that because i bought them without asking for your opinion,” you retort, but she glares back at you like you just murdered her parents.
𑄝⌇sevika’s taste in music is insane—she knows all the right tracks, from old-school rock to the newest underground hits. but one day, you played one of your ridiculously loud country songs, and somehow, it got stuck in her head. days later, you caught her humming the tune under her breath as she worked. she froze halfway through, eyes tightening, and muttered bitterly, “i’m so disappointed in myself.”
𑄝⌇sevika genuinely believes she’s terrible at comforting people—always unsure of what to say, what to do. but every time you’re in her arms, soft and trembling with tears, she can’t help but notice how easily you melt into her. the way you relax, your breaths slowing as you burrow closer… it doesn’t exactly convince either of you that she’s bad at it. “breathe for me, sugar. in through that little nose..”
𑄝⌇when she’s bored, sevika will bother you in the most subtle ways—like moving your stuff just slightly to the left so you’ll notice but not enough to be sure if it’s her. she thinks it’s hilarious, and you’re just left wondering if you’ve lost your mind.
𑄝⌇sevika always sleeps on top of you. she’s like a heavy, warm blanket that refuses to be moved. no matter how much space the bed has, she insists on curling up right on top of you, effectively trapping you in a cozy but slightly suffocating cuddle. she’ll nuzzle into your neck, mumble something about needing “closeness,” and fall asleep faster than you can protest. you’ve learned to embrace it, though, because there’s something oddly comforting about having her weight on top of you. the real challenge will always be trying to get up without waking her, because if you try, she’ll groggily mumble “stay,” and drag you right back to bed.
𑄝⌇sevika loves gossiping—will never admit it though.
𑄝⌇she always remembers how you take your tea. even when you change it up, even when you forget yourself—she doesn’t. she hands you a cup before you even ask, grinning when you blink at her like she just read your mind.
𑄝⌇she never sleeps facing the door. she sleeps facing you. always.
𑄝⌇sevika and you share food like it’s a sacred ritual. you both order different dishes, but somehow, every meal ends with your plates being mixed together.. whether you like it or not. she’ll stare at your food like it’s the last meal on earth and then slide a forkful onto her plate without asking. you’ll give her a side eye, but she just shrugs and says, “you never finish it anyway.” It’s become a game, where you try to sneak a bite from her dish, and she’ll respond by swiping something off your plate in return. it’s a silent, competitive love language that only the two of you understand.
TOO FINE TO HATE!!
The only 6'9 senior citizen i want!!🥴🥵❤️
headcannons or a story with Vi and Jinx having a younger sister that has little space or who’s autistic?
Vi and Jinx having an autistic sibling
Vi is your protector and biggest advocate
She makes sure people respect your boundaries and understand your needs
Jinx is chaotic but surprisingly considerate
She might be unpredictable, but she always takes note of what makes you comfortable
They both learn your routines and help you stick to them
Vi is more structured, while Jinx turns it into a fun game
Vi is patient with your communication style
Whether you prefer direct conversations, struggle with eye contact, or need time to process, she never rushes you
Vi keeps noise levels in check
She makes sure loud situations don’t overwhelm you or helps you escape them if they do
Jinx is naturally high-energy but dials it down for you
If she notices you getting overstimulated, she’ll be quieter (or at least try)
They both help with sensory overload in their own ways
Vi is grounding and calming, while Jinx distracts you with something engaging
Vi has a weighted blanket for you
She doesn’t use it, but she got it just for you because she heard it might help
Vi helps you navigate social situations
She’ll gently guide you if you’re unsure how to respond to something
Jinx doesn’t care about social ‘norms’ anyway
So she never makes you feel bad if you don’t fit them
Vi teaches you self-defense
Not just physically, but also how to stand up for yourself if people don’t respect you
Jinx hates when people treat you differently
If someone talks down to you, she will start a scene
They never force you into conversations
If you don’t want to talk, they’re fine with just sitting in comfortable silence
Jinx will hyperfixate with you
If you have an intense interest, she’ll dive into it just so you can share it together
Vi encourages your passions
Even if she doesn’t fully understand them, she loves seeing you happy
Neither of them judge if you repeat things a lot
Whether it’s watching the same show, repeating a phrase, or wearing the same outfit, they don’t mind
Vi is protective but lets you be independent
She won’t coddle you but will always step in if you need her
Jinx will (lovingly) terrorize anyone who upsets you
Not really… but kind of
They both support you unconditionally
No matter what, they love you exactly as you are
Vi is your safe space
If the world gets too much, she’s always there to ground you
Jinx reminds you that being different is awesome
ambessa with wife reader who’s biggest opps are her parents… especially her mom.
♡♥︎Ambessa vs. Your Mother♥︎♡
♥︎ Ambessa knew from the moment you told her about your strained relationship with your parents that she wasn’t going to like them. She’s never been the type to tolerate people who hurt the ones she loves—least of all you.
♥︎ When she finally meets your mother, it takes everything in her not to let her displeasure show outright. Ambessa is a master of strategy, and if there’s one thing she won’t do, it’s let an opponent see her cards too soon.
♥︎ Your mother, on the other hand, takes one look at Ambessa and decides she’s too arrogant, too powerful, too intense. She doesn’t approve of your relationship (not that Ambessa cares), and she makes no effort to hide it.
♥︎ You can always tell when Ambessa’s resisting the urge to speak her mind. There’s a certain set to her jaw, a slight narrowing of her eyes when your mother makes a passive-aggressive comment about your life choices.
♥︎ “A woman of your status must be so busy. I’m sure it’s difficult to make time for a real marriage,” your mother muses over dinner, sipping her wine. You feel Ambessa’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the table before she smiles—sharp, dangerous. “I make time for what’s important. You must know how that feels, yes?”
♥︎ If your mother ever criticizes you—your decisions, your career, your existence—Ambessa is shutting that down immediately. “You will not speak to my wife like that,” she states, voice calm but final. And when Ambessa Medarda says something with finality, there is no arguing.
♥︎ She absolutely refers to your mother as her greatest enemy. Not in a dramatic, emotional way—just a simple, casual, “Ah, yes, my greatest opponent,” whenever she brings her up.
♥︎ The tension is palpable whenever they’re in the same room. You can practically feel the invisible battlefield between them, both standing their ground like generals before war.
♥︎ Ambessa refuses to let your mother manipulate you with guilt. If she ever notices you falling into old patterns—apologizing when you shouldn’t, doubting yourself—she steps in. “You owe her nothing.” The way she says it, firm and unwavering, makes it hard not to believe her.
♥︎ If your mother ever tries to criticize Ambessa to you, she will find out very quickly that you’re not interested in entertaining that conversation. “If you have a problem with my wife, take it up with her.” (Spoiler: she never does.)
♥︎ Ambessa, with all her power, influence, and sheer presence, is petty in the most elegant way. If your mother ever buys you a gift meant to be a subtle dig (like a book on “proper etiquette” or something equally condescending), Ambessa one-ups her by buying you something extravagant. “Ah, yes, an etiquette guide. Well, I got you a villa in Noxus. Use whichever you prefer.”
♥︎ The first time your mother really underestimates Ambessa, she tries to intimidate her. She speaks in that condescending, self-righteous tone, expecting to unnerve her. Ambessa simply leans back, watching her with a slow, knowing smirk, and says, “I have led armies. Do you think your words will move me?”
♥︎ Your mother despises that Ambessa calls you “my love” in public and in private, her voice dripping with possessive adoration. She especially hates that you always soften under Ambessa’s touch, no matter how tense your mother tries to make you.
♥︎ If your mother ever tries to push you into family obligations that you clearly don’t want to take part in, Ambessa has no problem stepping in. “She will not be attending.” And just like that, the decision is made.
♥︎ Ambessa is terrifyingly good at subtle power plays. Your mother will try to make a sharp remark, and Ambessa will respond with the most cuttingly polite reply, all while watching her like a predator studying prey.
♥︎ You know she’d go to war for you if it came down to it. One time, after an especially rough encounter with your mother, Ambessa muttered, “It is fortunate that I value your happiness more than my pride.” You knew, without a doubt, that she had been holding back.
♥︎ Ambessa does not believe in winning battles through screaming matches—no, no. Her victories are silent, effortless. When your mother scoffs that she’s “not what we expected for our daughter,” Ambessa simply replies, “No, I imagine you expected someone weaker.”
♥︎ The only reason Ambessa hasn’t officially declared war on your mother is because she respects that it’s your relationship to navigate. She knows you don’t need saving—but she is always there, standing beside you, ready if you ever call on her.
♥︎ Despite it all, Ambessa never forbids you from seeing your family. She knows it’s your choice. But she does make one thing clear: “If they hurt you, I will remind them why I am feared.”
♥︎ At the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, away from the battlefield of family tension, she holds you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are mine,” she murmurs against your skin, voice softer than it ever is with anyone else. “And that is all that matters.”
Fucking Vi with a strap? I need it please
♡♥︎ Countertop Carnage ♥︎♡
Warnings: Vi getting absolutely ruined, pink strap (comedic but effective), counter abuse (RIP), standing ovation (Vi’s legs said no), overstimulation (oops), sweaty muscle flexing (mandatory), boot-soaking levels of mess
Vi is bent over the counter, hands gripping the edges so tight her knuckles turn white. She’s already breathless, already wrecked, chest rising and falling in uneven pants as she stares down at the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. Her arms flex with every twitch of her body, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin, her back arching as she braces for more.
And fuck, do you give her more.
Your strap is thick, big enough to make her whimper when you first pushed it inside, stretching her open inch by inch. Now it glides in and out of her, slick with her arousal, the obscene squelch of her cunt swallowing every inch echoing in the air between you. It’s bright pink—unmistakable, almost ridiculous against the raw, desperate way she takes it—but it stands out beautifully against her flushed, freckled skin. Every thrust shoves her up against the counter, her stomach pressed against the cool surface, her thighs trembling as she fights to keep herself upright.
“Fuck, fuck—” Vi groans, dropping her head forward, her pink hair falling in wild strands around her face. Her voice is hoarse, wrecked, like she’s been screaming your name for hours. Maybe she has.
You tighten your grip on her hips, fingers digging into the plush curve of her ass as you drive into her harder. “What happened, Vi?” you taunt, voice thick with amusement and lust. “All that attitude earlier, and now look at you. Can’t even hold yourself up.”
She growls, trying to throw you a glare over her shoulder, but it dissolves into a choked moan as you slam into her, the tip of your strap hitting that perfect spot inside her. Her whole body jerks, her legs threatening to give out, her nails scraping against the countertop.
“Oh, you like that?” You do it again, sharper this time, watching as she shudders beneath you. Her thighs are drenched, her slick dripping down, making a mess of the counter’s edge and the tops of her boots. “Such a fucking mess, Vi.”
“Shut—fuck, shut up,” she hisses, but there’s no real bite to it. She’s falling apart too fast, coming undone with every brutal snap of your hips.
You lean over her, pressing your chest to her sweaty back, and drag your teeth along the shell of her ear. “Make me.”
Vi tries—oh, she tries—but the only sound that escapes her is a ragged moan when you pull almost all the way out before slamming back inside. She jolts forward, her breath hitching, and you catch the way her fingers tremble against the counter, barely holding on.
“God—shit, I can’t—” Her voice cracks, her legs starting to shake as your pace grows ruthless.
You smirk, lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “Then don’t.”
And that’s all it takes.
Vi unravels with a strangled cry, her body seizing beneath you, her thighs clenching, her back arching so beautifully it nearly makes you dizzy. Her walls clamp down around the strap, pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her, soaking you, soaking everything. She trembles violently, gasping for air, her fingers clawing at the countertop as wave after wave of pleasure drags her under.
You don’t stop.
Not when she whimpers. Not when her legs give out and she starts sinking against the counter. Not when she pleads, voice cracking, overstimulated and wrecked beyond belief. You keep going, keep fucking her through it, your pace unrelenting, your grip unforgiving.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your voice is rough, almost as wrecked as hers. “Wanted to be fucked until you couldn’t think? Until you couldn’t stand?”
Vi nods weakly, unable to speak, her body limp against the counter.
You pull out slowly, watching as her hole clenches around nothing, twitching, desperate. Then you run your fingers along her swollen, dripping folds, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in.
Vi twitches, whining, her hips shifting back in search of more.
“You’re not done yet,” you murmur, voice dark with promise.
And then you grab her waist, drag her back onto your strap, and fuck her all over again.
-
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