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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

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You catch Silco's eye at The Last Drop, but he isn't the only one interested in you.

Silco x fem!reader x Sevika

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Clubs, predator/prey vibes, sex, interrupted sex, minor voyeurism, threesomes, anal fingering, double penetration, anal sex, sex toy use.

Masterlist

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You were on a bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies. You were trying to stay afloat in the wash of touches, your body stretching in ways it never had before. With the all-encompassing sensations, you were struggling to remember exactly how you had gotten to this point.

You hadn’t been drugged or anything. That much needed to be said, especially somewhere like The Last Drop. But no, the fuzziness of the evening had started from the first time you had caught the Shimmer-glowing eye of Silco himself, and you were drunk on everything that had happened since.

Catching Silco’s attention wasn’t something you had set out to do. Just the thought would have made you dizzy with nervousness and intimidation. Those weren’t emotions you had very often. Growing up in the deepest shadows cast by Piltover had left you with the distinct impression that there was no further you could sink.

And there were always predators in the deep.

When you had first noticed that mismatched gaze fixed on you, you had put on your best blank expression. Every Undercity resident worth their air knew that Silco wasn’t someone to fuck with. And if he had decided that he didn’t like the look of you, it would be better to leave The Last Drop before he had a chance to kick you out personally.

Admittedly, he would be more likely to send his second-in-command, Sevika, to get rid of you. That didn’t make it any more pleasant, though she was easily as attractive as he was - just with a different sort of danger.

In any case, you lost sight of him after that, though you couldn’t help but scan the crowds regularly for a sight of that glowing eye. Every time you didn’t see it, you relaxed a little more, though you couldn’t help recognizing that there was a part of yourself that rode a wave of disappointment.

Silco was known for being dangerous, but he was also undeniably handsome. That trim body and sharp fashion sense were paired with the keenest wit the Undercity had seen in decades, and he used it to his best advantage. Silco could take apart his enemies with a few well-placed words and a single command to his army of followers.

And he fucked.

Very few people could claim the distinction of having been with the Eye of Zaun, but everyone seemed to have a story about the time their friend’s older sibling’s cousin had spent a few glorious hours in the chem-baron’s company.

You would be willing to dismiss those stories as urban legends, a simple desire to make Silco’s power personal by having it exercised over you directly, but the stories all shared a few too many details. Firstly, they almost always started with someone catching Silco’s eye in The Last Drop.

Second, he was always very much in charge. It wasn’t something you would struggle to believe. If Silco was going to hook up with a stranger, it was only smart to make sure he was in control of the situation, if only to keep from being double-crossed.

Third, the person was never contacted again after their initial encounter with Silco. If they met him somewhere else, he was cool and indifferent toward them. It was clear that he was interested in short-term pleasure, not long-term commitment.

There were a few other factors that featured in most stories, but they weren’t entirely consistent and you didn’t count them. For instance, a lot of stories had Sevika involved, but not all of them. Some listed favorite positions or toys that were used, but those reports were so varied as to be pointless.

Overall, you considered the stories a fascinating look at how folklore supported shadowy figures in the Undercity. It was an interesting way to pass your time, even if it felt a bit voyeuristic. But you were simply interested in a major Undercity player, and found the pursuit of trends in stories a good indicator of that. You were watching solely as an academic exercise, not from any personal interest.

That was why you had regularly chosen to drink at the Drop for the past few months. The only reason.

Still, despite the stories - nay, Silco’s sexual exploits had reached the level of legend - you hadn’t expected to actually make eye contact with Silco himself. Even then, your tipsy-but-watchful demeanor hadn’t been enough to see him a second time.

Perhaps it had been a fluke. You weren’t stupid enough to think it had been anyone other than Silco, but you were also willing to concede that he probably observed the goings-on of The Last Drop. It wasn’t impossible that he had been watching the crowd at the same moment that you had been looking around. Still, there was something about the way his gaze had slowly slid away from yours that made you think he had been watching you for a while.

And you had to consider the tingling feeling of being watched, dancing invisible fingertips between your shoulder blades.

But you hadn’t seen Silco again. Not until you had gone to the bar. The bartender had slid you a drink before you had even ordered, directing you to a hallway that led from one side of the room. There, you found a staircase, and the door at the top had been unlocked…

When you opened the door and stepped into the darkened room beyond, Silco had been inside. You couldn’t claim to be completely surprised - who else would have a bedroom in The Last Drop?

You also weren’t stupid enough to believe that the room was actually where Silco slept. No, the bed was ridiculously big and the shelves against the walls held a variety of lascivious-looking toys. This was clearly where Silco hooked up with people from his club.

That, at least, ended up being correct. Silco had shared a drink with you, telling you bluntly that he was interested in fucking you that night. He asked if you were interested in that, too. Your immediate and resounding ‘yes’ was embarrassing, but he only gave a small smirk and told you to finish your drink while you discussed preferences and limits.

When that was settled, you found yourself on that giant mattress, flat on your back under him as he ravaged your mouth. He explored you thoroughly, taking control so casually and naturally that it only seemed to make sense.

And then he was inside of you, pushing himself deep as you arched your back and cried out for him. Your voice was loud in the room - too loud, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was thick and hot, and you could feel him throbbing. Or maybe you were the one throbbing, your inner muscles working around him as your body tried to decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out of you entirely.

Just as you were beginning to relax around and under him, a loud bang made you jump. You couldn’t see much from under the canopy of Silco’s body, but you managed to spy that the door was now open. More importantly, someone was standing inside.

“Scoop told me to come find you- Oh.”

The voice was low and rough, so much so that it took a moment for you to realize that it was female. And there was only one person you could think of who wouldn’t be apologizing profusely by this point: Sevika.

To your mingled surprise and embarrassment, Sevika stepped around the bed until she could see you more clearly past Silco’s shielding body. Her lips curved into a sardonic smirk as her dark eyes wandered over every bit of you visible in your current position.

“Nice going, boss,” Sevika congratulated lowly. “If you didn’t wreck that pretty pussy, I was gonna do it myself.”

Your breath caught at that, the muscles of your core fluttering at the unexpected filth.

Silco rolled his hips, pressing further into you and driving a gasp from your lungs. “Mmm, she liked that. And, as it happens, I’ve already started working on ruining her.”

“Everything I’ve seen so far seems pretty tame,” Sevika said with a scoff. “I think you’re losing your touch. Maybe you should let an expert take over.”

Silco bared his teeth, holding your hips tight against his to keep himself buried deep as he rolled. When you were on top, still laying with your chest pressed to his, Silco raised his eyebrows at Sevika. “I am the expert here. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should see for yourself.”

Sevika grinned, teeth flashing brightly in her smile. Her lightning-quick wink was the last thing you saw before she stepped out of view once more.

When you would have turned your head to keep her in view, Silco gripped your chin and held it steady to press a kiss to your lips. When he let you pull away, he murmured, “Pay attention. You’ll hurt my pride.”

The feeling of his chest rubbing against your stiffened nipples made your eagerness surge, but the sharp gasp was pulled from you by a different sensation: fingertips running upward along one side of your entrance, trailing around where Silco’s length had you spread wide around him. You couldn’t help a squirming shiver when that touch traveled up and between your cheeks.

“Sensitive little thing, isn’t she?” Sevika asked, a warm chuckle rumbling through her voice.

“If you could feel her the way I can, you would not need to ask.” Silco punctuated it with a pulse of his hips that made you gasp and cling to him.

Normally, this was not your kind of thing. You preferred to be an active partner in your sexual encounters, and the fact that most of the comments being tossed around were pointedly not directed toward you should have made you nervous. Probably would have in any other situation, if you were being honest.

But you felt exposed like this, knowing someone was watching. Someone who had plainly stated that she was also interested in your body. That, combined with the knowledge of how dangerous both of them were, kept you calm as they spoke around you rather than including you in the conversation. You felt as if you were slowly turning into a pile of flesh and nerves, able to do nothing but limply receive the pleasure you were offered.

Somehow, it was working for you.

“But you have yet to tell me,” Silco continued, giving another lazy thrust that made you squirm down onto him more firmly. “How does she look?”

“Needy. Hot. Desperate. Sexy,” Sevika said with a hum. Her attention was still between your legs as she scattered adjectives through the conversation. She played idly with you and - if you were to guess from his low growl - with Silco as well. Her fingers pulled you wider, as if testing how far your folds would spread. “The only way she’ll look better is dripping with cum, too fucked-out to move.”

You were listening intently to her, but a sound in the room made it hard to focus. It was only when they both chuckled that you realized the sound was a whine, coming from between your own parted lips.

“I can think of something else that may be better still,” Silco mused. His voice sounded teasing, but he didn’t continue. The silence felt heavy, weighed down with expectation and more than a hint of anticipation.

Silco’s hand smoothed over your temple, making you twitch with surprise. You glanced up to find him watching you. “What do you think, pet? Shall we invite Sevika to join us?”

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t want to risk trying and failing to speak, so you settled for a fervent nod. Silco’s lips curled as he glanced behind you. There was a knowing light glowing in his mismatched eyes, but they were aimed at Sevika, not you.

“Where do you want me?” Even Sevika’s low voice and brusque tone couldn’t disguise her interest. There was a stab of satisfaction in your gut - you may have been needy, but she wasn't as unaffected as she wanted to seem.

"Hmm…" Silco drawled, tracing circles on your skin that made you shiver. "If we truly want to ruin her, there would seem to be an obvious choice."

His touch lifted your chin once more, pulling your touch-drunk gaze toward his. With that orange eye burning deep into your mind and soul, Silco asked, "Shall Sevika and I share you? Take you at the same time?"

You nodded again, but Silco stared harder. "And has your lovely rear ever taken anything before?"

Feeling inexplicably disappointed in yourself and your past sexual partners, you slowly shook your head.

"And would you like to try?"

Your eyes snapped back to Silco's face, core throbbing. "Yes, I would."

Silco's lips curled into a pleased and slightly predatory smile.

Behind you, Sevika barked a laugh. "She can still speak." The chill of metal fingers against the side of your face made your eyes flutter closed. "We'll fix that."

"Get harnessed," Silco ordered, and Sevika's artificial touch disappeared from you. "Use the smallest toy. I want her ruined, not destroyed."

Even as your body gave a throb, clearly of the opinion that it wouldn't mind either way, Sevika said, "I’ll get ready. You keep doing what you were doing."

Silco took her at her word. He started slow, guiding your hips up and down on his length. When you had found the right combination of movements on your part and the right amount of Silco thrusting into you from below, your pace naturally built back to where it had been before.

The sound of your panting breaths filled the room, pairing chaotically with the sounds of sex. You had almost forgotten about Sevika entirely in the sprint toward your impending orgasm. But Silco stopped you with a steady press of fingers against your hips, his attention moving to something behind you. When he gave an approving smile, you glanced back as well.

Sevika was standing behind you, baring more skin than you could remember seeing her display. Her muscular arms were on full show, leading up to broad, strong shoulders. She was wearing a black breastband, but it could hardly contain the rounded swells of her breasts and your mouth watered at the idea of seeing them without any cover at all. Her abdomen was taut, a hint of muscle definition casting shadows on the flat expanse of her stomach. There was a suggestion of a rounded lower belly that made you itch to touch Sevika’s dusky skin, but that bit of softness was covered by a pair of black, form-fitting boxers.

When your eyes finally fell between Sevika’s legs, you could see that the boxers doubled as a harness. The toy held in place by the boxers was also black, and you struggled to pick out its edges against the darkness of the background. Sevika helped you - perhaps inadvertently - as she worked the short shaft, coating it with shining lube.

You watched her fist the toy, laying a thick coat of slippery gel over the surface. Your mouth was dry, but you did your best to pretend that you weren’t utterly entranced by the sight.

Silco gave a rumbling laugh, and it buzzed pleasantly through you. “Like what you see, pet? Do you think you can take her?”

Sevika smirked at you, hand spreading open between the toy and the boxers so you could see it more clearly. It was… smaller than expected.

“That’s it?” you asked, cringing at yourself a moment later.

Sevika laughed out loud. “For your first time? It’s plenty, trust me. Anything bigger and we really would destroy you.”

You smiled back, but Silco was already moving on. “Sevika is going to prepare you. I want your eyes on me.”

When you turned back to face the man beneath you, Silco nodded slowly. “One moment.”

Silco’s hands were firm around your hips. He used the leverage of them to spear himself as far into you as he could get, pressing deep and deeper until there wasn’t a fraction of space between your pelvis and his. Your mouth had fallen open somewhere along the line as you dealt with the flood of sensations, but he wasn’t done.

His palms slid up either side of your spine, pulling you forward until you were lying flat against him again, your breasts crushed to his chest and his length shifting oddly inside of you. You weren’t sure what look you were wearing when you stared down at him from inches away, but the pupil of Silco’s green eye was blown wide and you thought you would drown in the darkness of it.

Sevika’s touch made you jump just a bit, but it was enough to pull you free of the trap in Silco’s gaze. She must have been touching you with her metal arm, since her hand was cool and firm against you. She found the place where your spine met your ass, the spot where the sway of your spine rose past your tailbone and into the swell of your hips.

When her hand was on that anchoring spot, Sevika pressed down. It wasn’t painful, even with the unyielding metal of her replacement arm. However, it did lock you in place against Silco, holding you steady even when you tried to squirm at the feeling of him inside of you.

The feeling of warm, slippery fingers came a moment later - hardly a surprise, even as a gasp fought to escape you. That touch traveled closer and closer to the center of your ass, working its way toward that secret place hidden between your lower cheeks.

She quickly found your rear entrance and pressed a finger against it. You made an inhuman sound at the firm touch even as you fought to wiggle your hips closer. When her hand on you and Silco’s anchoring grip made that impossible, you settled for arching your back to give her better access.

Sevika laughed, and the sound warmed your face. “Responsive. I like her already.”

“Just wait,” Silco told her lazily. “She’s the best I’ve had in some time. Not overly chatty, either.”

“Just the way you like ‘em,” Sevika remarked. Her fingers playing against the small of your back made you shudder - or perhaps that was the way her other hand was poised and ready to breach you. When Sevika spoke again, her voice was closer to you, as if she had leaned in. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some sounds outta you either way.”

Somehow, you managed a halfway sexy laugh. "Promises, promises."

A firm slap to your ass took your breath away. It was a good spank, but it also forced you further into Silco's cock and ground your clit against his pelvis.

"Sevika," Silco's voice lashed lowly through the room. "Enough teasing."

As if to prove his own point, Silco used his grip on your hips to pull you up off of him and slam you back down. The suddenness of it made it all the more intense, and you started riding him without any further prompting.

"We'll start you off slowly," Silco said, offering a nod past you.

A cool drop of liquid landed just above the crack of your ass, sliding slowly downward. The first drop was followed by another and another, until the slippery gel had started working its way down to your heated core.

Searching fingers slipped between your cheeks and you tensed reflexively. Sevika's voice was low and close as she said, "Relax."

That wasn't going to happen any time soon, not with her touching what she was getting ready to, but you made an effort anyway. The tension drained slowly from your muscles, and you were so focused that you hadn't noticed the way Silco had stopped moving again.

His hands traveled upward to splay across your back once more, holding you steady as one of Sevika's fingers found your rear entrance and began to press against it.

Your vision seemed to dim. Not from the sensation itself - though that was certainly a source of interest - but because you were concentrating so hard on the way it felt that you weren’t fully using your eyes anymore. Beyond a vague recognition that Silco was watching you closely, all of your focus was on something you couldn’t see.

With the lube that was coating you, Sevika’s finger provided almost no friction. If not for the press of her knuckles against the softness of your cheeks, you would hardly know what she was doing. Her finger was equally slick (you suspected it had been coated with a fresh sheen of lubrication), but far more noticeable with the way it pressed against you.

Your entrance braced against the intrusion, fighting to keep it out. As the pressure increased against you, you drew tighter and tighter. Silco made a surprised noise at the way your inner muscles squeezed around him. It was quiet, but just enough to distract you. You relaxed as you glanced at Silco, and that was all it took for Sevika’s finger to breach you.

Naturally, you tensed. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Not uncomfortable, but different in a way that stole your focus. That ring of muscle seemed to stretch impossibly wide around the invader, and that feeling only grew as more and more of her finger sank into you.

“You’re a fool not to take her ass yourself,” Sevika informed Silco. “She’s gonna be perfect.”

“Perhaps I consider the privilege a reward for your excellent work,” Silco countered. “Besides, she is strangling my cock now. I think this will prove pleasurable for both of us. And even more so for our lovely guest.”

Sevika hummed in agreement, the fingers of her free hand dancing over the small of your back. “If she can walk after this, we haven’t done enough.”

With a twisting motion, Sevika curled her finger all the way into you, stopping only when her knuckles were pressing against the cheeks of your ass. The noise you made was short and sharp, an audible expression of your pleasure.

“Are her eyes crossing yet?” Sevika asked.

Silco caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, carefully turning your face from side to side. “I do not believe so, but we have plenty of time. Sevika will keep her finger in you, pet, while we resume our activities. I want you used to taking something in two places at once before we start in earnest.”

It wasn’t a question - no part of it had been, but you nodded anyway. Silco grabbed your hips again, guiding you in a new rhythm. He stayed deep inside of you, his tip never quite leaving your core even as he thrust. You picked up the pattern and started to follow it eagerly. There was a different dimension to the pleasure with something in your ass.

Sevika followed your movements with her hand, keeping her finger buried in you. It spurred you on, adding spice to every thrust as you adjusted to being stretched in two places.

A warmth at your back warned that Sevika was leaning in again. “Let’s take him apart.”

Your movements stuttered when her finger started to move inside of you, but she didn’t start to fuck you with it. Instead, she curled the digit, timing each curl perfectly to catch Silco’s tip at every thrust.

Silco’s brows furrowed, a harsh curse leaving him. He picked up speed when yours faltered, holding the rhythm even when you were completely distracted by the feeling of Sevika pressing against the thin wall that separated her from Silco.

At last - and long after your brain had melted entirely - Silco seemed to have had enough. With his chipped teeth bared, he hissed, “Sevika. Take her.”

The abrupt feeling of Sevika’s finger sliding from you made you gasp. She and Silco both chuckled, though Silco’s voice sounded a little strained.

“Ready?” Sevika asked, ducking forward so you could see her without straining your neck. Her eyes seemed even darker, excitement sharpening her features. You could only nod in silent agreement.

Her hands pressed you forward against Silco’s chest once more. You felt them travel down slowly, teasing where you and the chem baron were joined. Her touch dipped briefly lower and Silco cursed again. “Focus, Sevika.”

As if enticing her to do exactly that, Silco grabbed as much of your ass as he could possibly hold, spreading your cheeks wide as your face went hot. Sevika’s hastily stifled groan eased your embarrassment, but your breathing had picked up and you were fighting not to push back toward her.

A metal hand against the base of your spine drew your attention from your own eagerness for a moment. “Keep relaxed for me,” Sevika urged.

It was an impossible thing to ask, but you did your best as she placed the tip of her toy against your ass. You felt your eyes widen as she started to push into you.

You had seen the toy. It was small, almost laughably so. But now, it felt immense against your rear entrance. As it started to spear into you, it seemed to stretch you impossibly wide. The intrusion burned slightly, even with the generous amounts of lube that coated both you and the toy, and you would have shifted away from it if Silco weren’t holding you so tightly.

Your mouth opened, ready to call things off and walk away, but there was a slight popping sensation that made you jolt. “Head’s in.”

Sevika’s explanation answered your unasked question, but you couldn’t acknowledge her verbally. The steady slide of the toy into you was smooth and inevitable, your body letting it in with minimal struggle.

The firm press of her boxer-clad hips against your ass made you jump again, but Sevika’s hands smoothed down your sides. “Doin’ good for me, pretty girl. We’re gonna stay like this for a minute.”

You nodded, agreeing to yet another thing that hadn’t truly been a question. Slowly, Silco urged you to sit upright on him. You winced at the feeling of being stretched in two places, but it wasn’t painful. Silco wasn’t a small man and it was always odd to move this way with someone inside of you. Sevika’s toy was small, but it was odd and different enough to make you double-check every sensation to see whether it was good or bad.

Sevika started things, gently massaging your breasts from behind. Her touch was gentle but insistent, bringing your body back to eagerness. Silco joined in soon afterward, focusing his attention between your legs. His nimble fingers teased your folds around where he was speared and further back, but most of his attention was fixed on your clit.

Your lips parted as your breathing picked up. Silco and Sevika’s motions synced up, and Sevika’s fingers rolled your nipple just as Silco gave your clit a firm rub. You moaned aloud, head tipping forward in time to see a smirk spread over Silco’s face.

“It sounds as if our pet is ready to be fucked,” he remarked conversationally to Sevika. “Shall we?”

“Hmm…” Sevika hedged, rolling her hips against your ass as she thought. The motion knocked you off-balance, pushing you forward along Silco’s cock and spearing you back onto both of them when you corrected your position. You let out a plaintive sound. “How can I resist when she sounds like that?”

“Are you ready?” Silco asked, grabbing your chin once more.

That grip kept you from nodding. With your three functional brain cells, you managed, “Yes. Please.”

“Please,” Sevika repeated, amused. “You don’t have to beg. Yet.”

And then they started to move. The first few thrusts were disjoined, leaving you tossed back and forth between them like a toy boat in a storm. But they found a devastating rhythm soon enough. Silco pumped in and out of you, using his length to best advantage. Sevika had less of a shaft to work with, but she focused her energy on giving a little swivel of her hips with every stroke. The combination was lethal.

It seemed that you had just started when your body tightened. Tension was screaming through every muscle, warning that you were only moments away from utterly imploding.

“I- I’m–” you stammered, someone taking the words from your lips before you could get any further than a single word into your warning.

“We know,” Silco said, smugness written across his face.

“Surprised you made it this long,” Sevika agreed.

You decided that the best revenge would be to come. Your body wasn’t waiting for permission from your brain, but the timing was great - no sooner had you made your decision than every muscle in your body locked down.

Colors burst behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm you’d ever had roared through you. You had always imagined going through a hex-gate would be like that: an all-encompassing experience that robbed you of every sense until you were through. Of course, if the hex-gates felt anywhere near as amazing as it did to come on Silco and Sevika’s cocks, you would understand the exorbitant prices for passage.

If not for Silco’s hands on your hips and Sevika’s arms around your torso, you would have stopped moving entirely, other than to collapse forward. Somehow, they kept you upright, even when they edged you toward overstimulation.

Silco let out a low, wordless growl as he fucked up into you hard for a thrust, then two. When he was buried as far into you as he could possibly get, he came. The condom he wore kept you from feeling its heat, but his staccato pounding pushed you into a strong aftershock.

He was almost pretty like that, you reflected, watching Silco writhe beneath you. Fierce, of course, and always imposing, but somehow pretty. Maybe it was the way his eyes flashed, or how his face narrowed even more with the intensity of his pleasure. Or maybe it was the way his jaw dropped, a helpless sound of pleasure leaving him even as his brow crinkled with irritation at his own vulnerability.

Eventually, Silco lay slack on the bed, watching you and Sevika as his cock slowly softened inside of you. You were still pushed forward and back on him, moving slightly with Sevika’s thrusts. It felt inappropriate somehow, having your ass fucked while you were watched by the man you had started the night with. But Silco seemed unbothered, tracing lazy circles against your hips as he held you still to receive Sevika’s thrusts.

You could come again this way, you decided idly. Anal was a slower build to orgasm than you were used to, but it was certainly more powerful when it got there.

“Close yet?” Silco asked eventually. It could have sounded impatient or jealous, but his tone was nothing more than curious.

“Close,” Sevika confirmed. “It’s a smaller hilt than I would have wanted.”

“Did you choose the one that vibrates?”

You couldn’t see Sevika’s expression, but there was something close to glee in her voice as she said, “Forgot about that, but yeah.”

“Allow me,” Silco offered valiantly. He reached to grab something from a nearby table, and then you were too busy writhing to worry about what he was holding.

Sevika’s toy buzzed violently in your ass, and you were choking on air at the unexpected sensation. You could only squirm with the surprise of it, but when you had regained some control of your muscles, your instincts hijacked your brain. The only thing you could do was lean forward onto hands you had planted against Silco’s chest, pulling away and thrusting yourself back onto Sevika’s toy as quickly as you could manage.

Between your sudden eagerness and Sevika’s continued thrusting, the toy pulled free of and punched back in far more often than it had up to that point. A small, almost silent part of you recognized that the ache would be fierce the next day, but that concern was overwhelmed by the vast majority of you that insisted this was necessary. You needed to come again. If you didn’t, you would die.

At last, Sevika gave a sharp, staccato cry and buried her face in your neck. The flexing of her hips buried the toy as far inside of you as it could get. The buzzing brought you to a small but powerful second orgasm. You reveled in every second of it, even as Silco turned off the toy’s vibrations and soreness immediately set in.

Sevika pulled out of you, and the resulting motion of your hips allowed Silco to slide free as well. You collapsed on the surface of the bed, your fall cushioned by blankets and the arms of the two strangers you’d had sex with.

They started a low conversation above you as you throbbed and basked in the afterglow. Either they were speaking too quietly for you to hear or your brain wasn’t quite capable of processing speech yet. Either way, you were largely left to your own thoughts.

You hadn’t watched Sevika come. That was the only part of the experience you regretted. Silco was beautiful when he came, and you were willing to bet that Sevika had been the same. Unfortunately, she had been behind you and there were no mirrors that you could see. You felt cheated, almost, robbed of the chance to see a strong, stunning woman brought to her knees with pleasure from your body.

But you couldn’t truly complain. The rest of the night had been incredible. Silco truly deserved to have so many people talking about his talents in the bedroom. If he had orchestrated the whole scenario - and you strongly suspected that he had - he was both a master manipulator and someone with a keen need for pleasure.

Yes, if you were only going to get one chance at this, you were satisfied in how things had played out. And you had been with both Silco and Sevika! Two of the most dangerous people in the Undercity had let you share their bed, and they had cared enough about your pleasure to be sure that you came twice.

Now, you had your own story to share… but you didn’t think you would. This felt like something to keep quiet and close, to treasure for the rest of your life. And, of course, to get off to when you were feeling particularly lonely or needy.

“Is she wrecked enough for your tastes?”

Silco’s quiet question was the first thing you had understood in quite some time, and you realized with a start that he was talking about you.

“Mmhmm,” Sevika hummed, sounding wickedly satisfied. “Look at her.”

Since they were sitting at the right angle to be staring at your sensitive core, you didn’t bother to keep your eyes open. You were tempted to be shy, but sleep was calling louder and louder. They had made a mess of you, after all. They could look at that mess if they liked.

“I would like to try her mouth next time,” Silco added, almost absently.

Sevika let out a short laugh. “Works for me. I wanna bury my tongue in that pussy until she’s sobbing.”

“We’ll have to do this again soon,” Silco agreed.

You could hardly believe your ears, but even your excitement couldn’t keep you awake. You faded into soft and filthy dreams, the words ‘next time’ echoing in your ears as you went.

---

Author's Note - The reader character does and says a lot less than I'm used to writing, so my apologies for that. Honestly, this was fueled by scraps of a weird dream after I had too much wine one night. My excuse is that it was a very overwhelming dream for an ace-spectrum writer, so I just got it all down on paper as soon as I could!

Thanks for reading!

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prettyobsessed · 2 months

Text

Part 1: .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 💫Constellations of Affection💖.˳·˖✶

☁︎/ pairings: Xavier / fem!reader

☾ / genre: romantic, fluff [sfw, safe for minors]

₊˚ / tags: safe for work, safe for minors, contains swear words, slight flirtations mentioned, fluff, romantic, sweet Xavier, angry Xavier, friendship blossoming, best friends to lovers, slow burn, continuation, fight scene, past relationship turmoil, self-improvement, drowning in work, hectic work life, kisses, hugs, super gentle

♡ / word count: 5.3k

₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

Amidst the whirlwind of a bustling life, I find solace in the unwavering presence of Xavier, my steadfast friend and protector. Despite harbouring feelings for him, I guard my heart, scarred by past relationships. As our bond deepens, I grapple with the desire to reveal my true feelings. Will I find the courage to confront my fears and express my love to Xavier?

﹌﹌﹌

As I pull away from the hug, Xavier's arms remain wrapped around me, holding me close with a tenderness that fills my heart with warmth. His gaze meets mine, and in those kind eyes, I see a reflection of the love and care he has always shown me. "Thank you for staying,” I whisper, my voice barely above a soft murmur, but the sincerity behind the words is unmistakable.

𓍢ִ໋୧🍵 ⋅₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭୧ ˙

In the bustling city of Linkon, where neon lights danced upon the urban landscape, I found solace amidst the chaos in the form of Xavier, my steadfast best friend and protector. Xavier, a Deepspace hunter dedicated to protecting civilians like myself from Wanderers, became my protector and confidant after our first encounter on a bridge near Linkon City four years ago.

Our friendship blossomed from then onwards, where we would escape the confines of our busy lives to gaze upon the stars, lost in the beauty of the night sky. Our nights are often spent together, stargazing from rooftops, sharing our hopes, dreams, and even secrets. Sometimes, Xavier would even take naps on my lap and give me gentle head pats, sending a flutter through my heart.

Amidst our shared reveries under the celestial canopy, Xavier would playfully bestow upon me various endearing nicknames, but none resonated with me as deeply as being called Princess. Whenever the word slipped from his lips, the sweet and sultry timbre of his voice carried a softness and affection that enveloped me like a comforting embrace—making me feel truly cherished.

His presence brought a sense of calm amidst the storm of my hectic life, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty. I couldn't help but feel captivated by his mysterious aura, finding him irresistibly charming and attractive.

Yet, despite these intimate moments, our relationship never progresses beyond friendship.

Despite the blossoming of affection within me, I find myself paralysed by the fear of opening my heart once more. The scars of past relationships still linger, casting a shadow of doubt over my longing for something more with Xavier. I tread carefully, concealing the depth of my emotions beneath a carefully crafted facade, praying that Xavier won't decipher the hidden turmoil beneath the surface.

Every interaction with Xavier becomes a delicate balancing act, a choreographed dance of veiled glances and cautious words. I hold my breath, fearing that the slightest slip-up will betray the secret longing I harbor within.

Yet, with each passing moment in his presence, the yearning to unburden my heart grows stronger, the desire to lay bare my soul to him almost overwhelming.

But the spectre of past heartaches looms large, haunting my every thought and action. I am burdened by the fear of repeating past mistakes, trapped by the dread of disappointment and heartbreak. And so, I remain ensnared in a silent struggle, grappling with the conflicting desires to both reveal and conceal the depths of my heart.

As a dedicated professional in the fast-paced world of the fashion industry, I often find myself immersed in a multitude of responsibilities. My days are characterised by a constant juggle of tasks, from meeting deadlines to surpassing expectations set by clients and colleagues alike. The pace is relentless, with back-to-back meetings, creative brainstorming sessions, and meticulously planned photoshoots demanding my unwavering focus and dedication.

Despite the chaotic nature of my professional life, Xavier remains a steadfast and unwavering source of support. His presence serves as a calming anchor amidst the turbulent waters of my daily routine. Whether it's offering a sympathetic ear during moments of stress or providing a reassuring smile to lift my spirits, his unwavering support is a beacon of light in the midst of my busiest days.

Xavier often frequented my apartment, and during moments of respite, I eagerly seized the opportunity to unveil my creations to him, transforming our time together into impromptu fashion shows. With each meticulously crafted garment, I sensed a subtle tension electrifying the air between us, prompting me to ponder whether it was merely the allure of the dresses drawing us closer or the unspoken emotions simmering beneath the surface.

There was a particular allure about skirts that seemed to captivate Xavier's attention. I recall one instance when I slipped into a mini skirt, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable admiration.

His excitement was palpable, and he couldn't contain his enthusiasm, clapping his hands in delight. Even as I changed into another outfit, he couldn't seem to shake the image from his mind, insisting that I don the mini skirt again for a closer look.

A mischievous spark ignited within me, nudging me to flirt back with him. Succumbing to both his charm and my own playful inclinations, I obliged, slipping back into the mini skirt and performing a slow spin that allowed him to drink in every detail.

As I stood before him, adorned in the mini skirt, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, his breath caught in awe. It was as though in that moment, the fabric of the skirt became a conduit for unspoken desires, weaving a silent narrative of longing and admiration between us. With a coy smile, I couldn't resist teasing him, suggesting that perhaps he was too enamoured with the mini skirt.

The tension between us felt noticeable, and I sought refuge in the familiarity of casual attire, hoping to diffuse the charged atmosphere and regain a sense of normalcy—though deep down, I secretly relished the idea of indulging his request.

—

Sometimes, after particularly hectic days at the office, Xavier kindly offers to give me a lift, his bike a welcome respite from the chaos of my workday. Even on days when Xavier himself seems exhausted, he always maintains a vigilant watch on the road, ensuring our safety as we navigate the bustling city streets together.

Sensitive to my needs, Xavier never rides too fast, understanding my tendency to experience motion sickness. This consideration speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and care, as he ensures our mode of transportation aligns with my comfort, sparing me the discomfort that often accompanies other forms of travel such as cars or taxis. Hence, I usually prefer taking the train—it offers a more stable and soothing journey, allowing me to arrive at our destination feeling relaxed and without any adverse effects.

Despite the occasional setbacks, our bond only grew stronger, anchored by shared moments of laughter and quiet contemplation beneath the twinkling city lights.

—

It was on one such evening, as we lay side by side on the rooftop of my apartment building, that Xavier posed a question that caught me off guard. He lay beside me, his thoughts growing louder with each passing moment.

"Can I ask you a question? What do you think of me?" His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning, and I felt my heart race with uncertainty. His eyes danced in the moonlight, a shimmering reflection of his soul, seeking answers within the depths of mine. Caught off guard by his sudden inquiry, I searched for the right words to convey the depth of my feelings for him. But as I stumbled over my response, I found myself unable to articulate the truth that lay buried within my heart.

"Honestly?" I began, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “I think you're… amazing.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I struggled to find the right words. "Your selflessness, your love for animals, and your unwavering presence shines through in every action... whether it's kindness or lending a helping hand to a friend in need. You're a rare gem in a world full of ordinary stones, and I cherish every moment we spend together.

Everything about you is so ho-“ I stuttered, the word "hot" lingering on the tip of my tongue, before quickly correcting myself. "Cool. Everything about you is cool. It's one of the many reasons why I admire you so deeply and… I’m really proud to call you my best friend.”

As I awaited Xavier's response, a wave of apprehension washed over me, my mind swirling with doubts and insecurities. But before I could question his reaction, he deftly changed the subject. "Haha," he chuckled softly, his words masking the disappointment that flickered in his eyes. "Best friend... I see," he echoed, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to make sense of his words.

What was that. What is going on? Was I simply reading too much into it—into his reaction? Before I could seek clarification, Xavier changed the subject, his bright facade masking turmoil within.

"Let's go! It's getting late. I’m getting sleepy already," he remarked with a fake yawn, his voice cheerful despite the underlying tension between us. I nodded, the faint rumble of approaching trains echoing through the station, heightening the urgency in his words. As we boarded the train together, the worn fabric seats welcomed us with a familiar embrace, their faded texture a testament to years of commuter traffic.

Xavier settled beside me, his presence comforting yet unnerving in the dimly lit carriage. I stole a glance at his reflection in the window, the soft hum of the train's engine creating a cocoon of sound around us. He rested his head on my shoulder, his breaths steady and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

What did he mean by ‘Best friend…I see’? The question echoed in my mind, refusing to be silenced as I grappled with the uncertainty of our relationship. Did he also see me as more than just a friend? Or was I simply projecting my own desires onto a friendship that was never meant to be anything more?

The weight of my thoughts pressed heavily upon me as I journeyed home, the rhythmic sound of the train's wheels against the tracks serving as a backdrop to my inner turmoil. I wanted so desperately to reach out to Xavier, to confess the depth of my feelings for him, but the fear of rejection held me back, chaining me to the confines of my own insecurities.

And so, as the train rumbled onward into the night, I was left alone with my thoughts, grappling with the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring. For better or for worse, Xavier had become an indelible part of my life, his presence shaping my world in ways I had never imagined possible.

—

That night, as I lay on my bed, memories of my past relationship flooded my mind like an unwelcome torrent. Two years spent together, believing we were destined to be each other's forever, shattered in an instant when my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my own best friend. Every whispered secret, every shared laugh, now tainted with the sting of betrayal—an irreparable fracture.

The bitter taste of betrayal tainted my perception of love, leaving me disillusioned and wary of entering another relationship.

My days became a relentless cycle of pushing myself to the limit, both physically and mentally. Yet, despite my outward transformation, the pain of betrayal lingered like a stubborn shadow, threatening to consume me at every turn. That day, I found myself unable to hold back the tears as they streamed down my face upon discovering the truth, each drop a poignant reflection of the depth of my heartache.

To escape the tormenting memories, I buried myself in work, immersing myself in tasks and projects with unwavering determination. I also poured my energy into crafting my own set of outfits as a hobby. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, the ache of heartbreak remained a constant companion—a haunting reminder of the love lost and the trust shattered.

Yet, just when hope seemed all but lost, a flicker of light appeared on the horizon. That is, a year after the devastation of my past, I met Xavier. His presence breathed new life into my world, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of my despair. Little did I know, he would become the beacon of love and healing that I had long believed to be lost.

As I pondered back to Xavier's words, my eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. Soon, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, diving into its depths.

—

Ever since then, life became a whirlpool—sucking me into its chaotic currents. It's my typical coping mechanism to bury myself in work, a futile attempt to escape thoughts of Xavier. Days blurred into nights filled with endless work and overtime, a relentless cycle that offered temporary distraction. Then, amidst the hustle, a familiar ping broke through the monotony—a text from Xavier. ‘Princess. U busy? I’m craving for soba noodles suddenly. Wanna eat 2gt?' his messages popped up one by one. Again, his simple words stirred a flutter of emotions within me, and I couldn't help but blush.

Xavier's persistent attempts to meet up tugged at my heartstrings, but I resisted, afraid to deepen my feelings for him and disrupt the delicate balance of our relationship. ‘Kinda tired tonight. Another day okie? Sorry��’, I replied, my fingers tapping out the message with a weariness that mirrored my exhaustion. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I left the office well past midnight.

The city streets, usually bustling with life, now felt eerily deserted as I made my way to the train station. Boarding the train homeward, fatigue threatened to pull me into slumber. The train's bell-like chime jolted me awake as it announced my stop, piercing through the haze of fatigue that clouded my mind.

I alighted at my stop, the deserted train station casting eerie shadows in the late-night silence. Each step echoed off the empty walls, my weariness dragging me down like an anchor as I trudged wearily up the stairs. Thoughts raced through my mind, a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling in the darkness of the night.

As I ascended to the top of the stairs, exhaustion bore down on my shoulders, threatening to engulf me. Abruptly, a figure emerged from the shadows, jolting me out of my reverie. Before I could react, we collided.

Nearly stumbling backward, my heart raced in my chest as I struggled to comprehend the situation. With a shaky hand, I reached out to steady myself against the railing. "Watch where you're going, dumbass.” The harshness of this rugged-looking stranger voice pierced the stillness, stirring a knot of anxiety in my stomach. It was a jarring encounter, snapping me out of my tired stupor and reminding me of the harsh realities of the world outside my bubble of work and avoidance.

“I’m so sor-“, my voice trailed off. As I strained to identify the source of the voice, a sense of dread crept over me. The intonation, the cadence—it all felt uncomfortably familiar. Oh no. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I peered closer, and there he was: Leon, his presence like a ghost from my past, haunting me in the dead of night.

For a moment, I was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend how our paths had crossed again after all these years. But then, as his words registered in my mind, I felt a surge of anger rising within me, pushing aside the fear that threatened to consume me. “Wait… (your name), is that you?” Leon's voice cut through the tension, his tone filled with surprise and a hint of uncertainty. "Leon," I replied, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Trying to ease the tension, I added, “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

But before he could answer, his demeanour shifted, his eyes softening with an emotion I couldn't quite place. “(Your name)…” he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry." His unexpected apology caught me off guard, momentarily halting my rising fury. But as I struggled to process his sudden change in attitude, he reached out to grab both my arms, his presence, like a repulsive chill, sent waves of disgust through me.

“It’s been years and I still miss you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can't we just talk?"

I recoiled at his touch, feeling repulsed by the memories of our tumultuous past flooding back. "No," I said firmly, my voice edged with apprehension. "We can't." But as I attempted to pull away, his grip tightened like a vice, his fingers digging into my skin with a disturbing intensity. "Please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation and a hint of madness. "I really miss you."

In that moment, panic flooded through me, memories of past betrayal threatening to overwhelm once again as I attempted to break free from his touch. Leon's expression turned aggressive, his grip tightening on my arms as I struggled to break free. I attempted to flee from his grasp, but he wouldn’t relent.

Leon's voice erupted into a furious crescendo, each word dripping with venomous anger. "Bitch! You think you're hot shit now? Who are you fucking now, huh?” His aggressive tone sent shockwaves of fear coursing through me, urging me to escape his tightening grip. Desperation clawed at my mind as I screamed for help, the haunting memories of our tumultuous past intensifying the terror of the present moment.

Summoning a surge of determination, I gathered every ounce of resolve within me, channeling it into a fierce effort to break free from Leon's suffocating grip. With a desperate lunge, I wrenched myself from his grasp, feeling the weight of his hold relinquish as I staggered downward, my heart pounding with the urgency of escape.

The reverberation of my voice in the desolate station amplified the intensity of my fear. I struggled against Leon's vice-like grip, panic coursing through me as I frantically scanned the empty surroundings for any sign of assistance. Yet, the late hour rendered the station eerily deserted, devoid of any potential saviours. In the grip of terror, my thoughts instinctively turned to Xavier, the one person I yearned to have by my side in that moment. The memory of his unwavering strength and protective presence ignited a flicker of courage within me. Drawing upon every ounce of resolve, I broke free from Leon's grasp, staggering backward in a desperate bid for escape.

“Get away from me!" I cried out, my voice trembling with a potent mix of fear and fury. As I darted up the stairs to get to the street and find help, my heart pounding in my ears, Leon's menacing presence loomed behind me. With a sudden, forceful movement, he seized hold of my hair, his grip unyielding and merciless—anchoring me to the ground with a jolt of pain and terror.

I found myself sprawled on the unforgiving ground, my arms instinctively forming a feeble barrier against Leon's relentless assault. With every ounce of determination I could muster, I unleashed a powerful kick aimed squarely at his groin. The impact sent shockwaves of pain through his body, doubling him over in agony, his knees crashing to the ground as a guttural cry escaped his lips.

Despite the adrenaline-fueled panic coursing through my veins and the tremors that racked my body, I persisted in my struggle against him, each futile attempt to break free intensifying the sense of desperation and urgency in the air.

Leon's face contorted into a menacing snarl as he regained his composure. He lunged towards me once more, but before he could reach me, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Xavier. With his imposing presence and determined stance, Xavier swiftly intercepted, closing the distance between us and Leon with remarkable speed. Without hesitation, he delivered a powerful punch to my attacker—his silhouette blurring with the force of his strike.

His usually gentle gaze now burned with an intense darkness as he confronted Leon, ready to protect me at all costs.

“Fucking coward,” Xavier spat, his eyes blazing with anger as he delivered another forceful blow to Leon's face. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on her again.” With each punch, Xavier's resolve only seemed to strengthen, his determination to defend me evident in the unwavering force behind his blows.

Xavier subdued Leon with practiced ease, pinning him to the ground. The weight of his authority was palpable in the air.

As Xavier continued to rain down blows upon Leon, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoed in the dimly lit space. It punctuated the tension with each impactful strike. It was a visceral dance of justice against brutality, a raw display of Xavier's resolve to protect me. The sight of Leon, bloodied and bruised, bore witness to Xavier's unwavering commitment to my safety.

Never before had I seen Xavier so consumed by rage. It was as though he had transformed into an entirely different person, his usual calm demeanour replaced by a ferocity that I had never witnessed before.

Leon, now all bloodied up, stared up at Xavier in shock and disbelief. His bravado shattered by the force of Xavier's righteous fury.

“If you’re anywhere near her or touch her again, I’m gonna make sure you won’t see the daylight,” Xavier warned, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation.

With fear etched on his face, Leon scrambled to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him.

With Leon's retreat, the tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night. Xavier's gaze lingered on the spot where Leon had stood, his expression a mix of resolve and concern.

Turning towards me, his face a portrait of pure concern, I could still see the remnants of his earlier anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Are you hurt?" Xavier's voice softened with genuine concern as he focused his attention on me, his hand reaching out to gently cradle my cheek. His touch was warm against my skin, a soothing balm to the chaos that had unfolded moments before. I shook my head, my breaths ragged as I leaned against the solid cement pillar for support. As I attempted to rise, Xavier's reassuring presence steadied me, his strong arms providing stability. Gratitude flooded through me, knowing that once again, Xavier had rushed to my aid, much like that pivotal night at the bridge.

"Thank you… Xav," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion as I met his gaze. "How did you know where I was?" I asked, my heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. Xavier's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and concern. "I was worried about you," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, a comforting hand supporting my back. “I just had a feeling something wasn't right, so I wanted to check on you. I'm relieved I found you when I did."

Despite the lingering rush of adrenaline, I found solace in Xavier's protective presence and his timely intervention.

Xavier's eyes scanned my face, his brow furrowed with genuine worry as he assessed my injuries. "We need to make sure you're alright," he insisted softly, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. Taking my hand in his, he effortlessly hoisted me onto his back, his actions speaking volumes about his commitment to my well-being. As we hurried through the quiet night together, Xavier bearing my weight, a sense of security enveloped me in his embrace. Despite the lingering fear and uncertainty, I found solace in relying on him for support, grateful for his unwavering strength and care.

"I can walk just fine, you know... You don’t have to carry me," I admitted sheepishly, a blush tinting my cheeks as I acknowledged my dependency, my face nestled between his shoulder and neck. Xavier's gaze shifted slightly as he turned his head, locking eyes with me in a reassuring manner. "I want to make sure you receive proper care. We're heading to the hospital to have your injuries checked," he explained calmly, his voice filled with determination to ensure my well-being.

“You’re so dramatic, it’s just a scratch!” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Xavier sighed and replied, "Ok fine, but let’s at least go to the nearby clinic?" I nodded in agreement, grateful for his compromise and his insistence on ensuring my well-being.

With each step, his purposeful stride conveyed his unwavering resolve to take care of me, easing my apprehension about seeking medical attention. The cool night air enveloped us as we moved forward, Xavier's presence providing a comforting shield against the uncertainty that lingered in the darkness.

—

After receiving care and ointments from the clinic, Xavier accompanies me all the way back to my apartment, ensuring my safety with his tender manner and attentive care. With each step, his strength supports me, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling storm of emotions within me. As he guides me through the door, his touch is reassuring, grounding me in the reality of his protective embrace.

Once inside, Xavier assists me in removing my shoes and leads me to my bedroom with a confident, fluid grace. As he settles me onto the bed, his expression shifts between concern and determination, evident in the focused way he prepares to apply the ointment to my scratch.

"Wait," I interject, sitting up. "I'd like to shower first. I don't feel comfortable resting on my bed in my outside clothes."

Xavier nods understandingly, his eyes reflecting his unwavering support. "Of course. Would you like me to leave then?" he asks, gesturing towards the door with a gentle motion.

I pause, considering how to express my desire for his company. However, honesty prevails in my mind. “No, please stay," I reply, grateful for his presence. "Could you help me blow dry my hair after?" Xavier's surprise is evident, but a soft smile graces his lips as he realises I trust him enough to ask for his assistance. "Of course," he says, his voice warm with reassurance.

Stepping into the shower, the warm water envelops me in a comforting embrace. Thoughts of Xavier flood my mind, his timely arrival a beacon of hope in my darkest moment. Gratitude swells within me for his unwavering support, though questions about how he found me linger in the recesses of my mind.

Once refreshed and renewed, I search for Xavier and find him peacefully asleep on my couch. Bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, his expression is serene, imbuing the room with a sense of calm. Drawing closer, I marvel at the tranquility that surrounds him, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm in the stillness of the night.

Studying his features, I notice the gentle fall of his hair and the subtle curve of his lips softened in slumber. A small leaf rests atop his head, a whimsical detail that brings a smile to my lips. As I reach out to remove it, a droplet of water from my hair lands on his chest, causing him to stir and awaken.

Xavier blinks sleepily, his gaze softening with warmth as he focuses on me. “I-I’m sorry!” I stammer, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "I didn't mean to disturb your sleep. There was a leaf on your head, and I simply wanted to remove it. Look!” I explain, holding up the leaf as evidence. He chuckles softly, the sound carrying a warmth that melts away any lingering tension.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, softened by the lingering tendrils of sleep, yet resonating with a sincerity that soothes my unease. As he unfurls from his slumber-induced cocoon, the fabric of his shirt tautens, tracing the contours of his toned abdomen with a subtle grace. A delicate flush of warmth blossoms across my cheeks, suffusing them with a soft, ethereal glow, like the first blush of dawn.

With a quiet determination, Xavier rises to his feet, a stalwart figure against the backdrop of uncertainty. The ointment, a healing elixir, already nestled in his hand, ready to tend to the tender wounds etched upon my skin. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, each movement deliberate as he tends to my grazed cheek and elbows, a silent vow of protection and care woven into his actions.

“Now, where can I find your hair dryer?” Xavier asks, his eagerness evident in the sparkle of his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. The dim light of the room casts soft shadows across his features, adding to his allure as he waits patiently for my response.

Guiding him to the location of my hair dryer, I make my way to the kitchen to prepare some refreshments. The aroma of chocolate muffins wafts through the air as they warm up in the oven, filling the kitchen with a tantalising scent. Meanwhile, I carefully brew a fragrant cup of green tea, the steam rising gently from the cup as it steepens.

Returning to my room with the refreshments in hand, I find Xavier already waiting. With a warm smile, I place the food and drink on my side table, gesturing for him to sit on my dressing stool while I settle onto the bed beside him. As he inspects the wetness of my hair, I can't help but notice the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through the window, casting a tranquil ambiance over the room.

Handing him the hair dryer, I set it to medium heat and watch as Xavier meticulously blow-dries my hair with the brush I provided. Each movement is executed with care and tenderness, his focused attention ensuring my comfort throughout the process. Xavier playfully teases me about the small leaf in his hair, insisting I placed it there, to which I respond with mock offense, playfully stuffing a chocolate muffin into his mouth. Laughter fills the room, muffled by the treat, as we enjoy this lighthearted moment together.

“All done,” Xavier announces with a smile as he switches off the hair dryer.

Throughout the interaction, I can't help but feel a sense of warmth and affection for Xavier, grateful for his unwavering support and the comfort of his presence. The glimmer of streetlights seeps through the window, casting a soft glow on Xavier's features, particularly his blue eyes. In that moment, a tranquil stillness envelops my apartment.

As the sound of the hair dryer fades, I rise from my stool and move towards Xavier, who remains seated on my bed. I wrap my arms around him in a heartfelt embrace, my gratitude overflowing for his timely rescue. Overwhelmed by my emotions, I surrender to the warmth of the moment with Xavier. With a gentle kiss planted on his cheek, I convey the depth of my appreciation, cherishing this intimate connection between us.

Xavier's warm smile softens his features, his eyes brimming with tenderness as he gently reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. "Princess, from this moment forward, I vow to protect you wherever life may lead," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody that brings peace to my soul. Nestled in our peaceful embrace, cocooned in warmth and affection, I realise the depth of the bond between us. This connection is precious, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

With a contented sigh, I nuzzle closer to Xavier, guiding his head to rest on my chest, where he finds solace in the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. His arms around me are a sanctuary, offering solace and comfort in a world of chaos. And in that moment, I know with unwavering certainty that I am exactly where I belong.

Moved by the depth of my emotions, I lift Xavier’s head to meet my gaze, cupping his chin with my hand, and without a word, I press my lips softly against his, sealing our love with a tender kiss. It's a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, expressing all the love and gratitude that fills my heart. As our kiss deepens, I feel a sense of completeness wash over me, as if I've finally found my home in Xavier's embrace.

Reluctantly parting, breathless and exhilarated, a sparkle in Xavier's eyes reflects the emotions swirling within my own heart. In the lingering sweetness of our embrace, I know that our love will endure, steadfast and true, through every twist and turn that life may bring.

—by prettyobsessed⋆˚✿˖°

Editor’s note: So sorry! Work has been so hectic, but I hope this piece that I wrote will make your heart flutter♡

It’s for my Xavier gurlies; those who love his gentle side. Will Part 2 show more of a darker side to him? Stay tuned! For a bad boy Xavier ✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧

On a side, side note: I realise I enjoy writing slow burn scenarios. Do you guys prefer a fast-paced one instead? Feel free to let me know!

—

this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

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female-malice · 4 months

Text

The breast binding trend that young women are doing now has already been done by young women 100 years ago.

Read this excerpt from this paper about qipao fashion by Adrienne Cox:

The changes in qipao fashion began with the trend of breast binding in the early 1910s. Breast binding became more popular toward the end of the Qing dynasty, especially among young female students, who sought to hide their feminine figures by binding their breasts and wearing the early qipao that was stylistically similar to their male counterpart’s changpao style.

Breast binding provided young women with a slim boyish figure and allowed them to show off a more androgynous body as they began to move into the public sphere, which allowed them to preserve a sense of modesty. By hiding their feminine figures, they were able to enter the public sphere without drawing the attention of the male gaze as sexually promiscuous women. In the late 1910s, the trend of breast binding for political reasons quickly spread around urban China, and by the 1920s women of each province sported their own versions of breast binding devices. In the north near Beijing, the laoshi moxiong or old-style breast cover was popular and bound the breasts tight to the chest. In the south the xinshi moxiong or new-style breast cover was more popular and provided a slightly looser fit. From this trend of breast binding, we can also understand how women’s outer clothing changed to fit the new style of feminine form, as qipao styles became tighter to conform to the boyish figures.

The general practice of breast binding also points toward women’s desire to take control of their bodies as they are increasingly visible in the public eye. Women chose to bind their breasts as a way to make their body more suitable to the public eye, which then allowed them to take advantage of education and job opportunities that would bring them directly within the gaze of a society that had functioned by hiding female bodies for centuries. During this time period, who was in control of women’s bodies was the serious question. The changes in both breast binding and qipao styles provided women the opportunity to enter the public sphere without drawing the criticism of conservatives who felt women should stay within their traditional gender roles at home.

By the early to mid-1920s, another movement was beginning to gain traction that completely changed the way that women would display their bodies in public, as well as how the Nationalist government would respond to women’s political needs and demands. This movement began as some urban women sought to free their bodies from the constrains of their clothing as well as the constrains of traditional gender norms. These women sought to literally free their bodies from the historical bindings that had deformed women’s bodies. In this movement, breast binding became closely linked with rhetoric surrounding foot binding, which linked it to the feudal and restrictive past. Feminists across China called this the ‘natural curves’ movement, and it sought to completely eradicate breast binding and focused on women’s physical health. The movement was later supported by the Nationalist government after 1927, and women’s health was encouraged for the benefit of the state—healthy women could produce healthy children—but the way women dressed and presented their healthy bodies came under attack from the Nationalist government for being too provocative.

When the ‘natural curves’ movement began, the women involved focused primarily on celebrating women’s ‘natural’ curves and bringing the ‘natural’ female form more fully into the public eye. This would both literally free women from hiding their figures using harmful tactics such as breast binding, as well as figuratively freeing women from the traditional expectations that drove women to hide themselves from men. In the past, women had either been in the home or so overburdened by loose layered clothing that the physical form was ultimately hidden away from sight. The focus of the natural curves movement quickly became the breasts, hips, and legs of women, and women’s magazines such as Linglong devoted centerspreads and articles to showing off and celebrating the physical health of athletic women. In 1933, the editors of Linglong even published an entire issue dedicated to showing healthy and athletic women. Linglong was largely influenced by the readers, and it wasn’t uncommon for a reader’s letter or personal article to be published in the magazine. This is important to note, because the 1933 sports issue that showed women engaged in sports also included images of healthy young children and mothers holding their babies, which shows that women around China supported the movement for a variety of reasons.

The emphasis on healthy and robust bodies became the forefront of the natural curves movement, and this focus was embodied in the two keywords of the movement, ziran mei and jian mei which mean ‘natural beauty’ and ‘healthy beauty.’ Under the principles of ziran mei and jian mei, Chinese women began to abandon their xiongyi entirely to show off the full shape of their breasts. Others began to adopt the western style brassieres, which would cover the breasts without pushing them into the chest. Politically active women throughout urban China could decide how they wanted to express their liberation simply by how they chose to present their bodies, and qipao styles were changed once again, this time to show off women’s full figures. Once again, the qipao was used as a way to show the political stance of the women wearing them.

In the late 1920s the Nationalist government, as well as some conservative civilians supported ‘natural breasts’ and fashion that followed not out of a desire to liberate women, but out of concern for their reproductive health and creating a clear divide between genders. A popular magazine called The Women’s Monthly published an article that openly admonished young women who still bound their breasts, and other women’s magazines published articles encouraging women to abandon their old binders in favor of the western bra, that would support the breasts without constraining them. Breast binding was said to be a major detriment to a woman’s ability to raise her child, as it was widely accepted that breast binding caused women to be unable to produce milk. These groups linked what was supposed to be a form of female liberation back to the traditional gender roles that many women were trying to escape.

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First there's a breast binding trend among young women who want to avoid being sexualized by male peers.

Then there's a feminist rejection of this trend as feminists promote the importance of women's health and fitness.

And finally, conservatives co-opt the feminist rejection and twist it into a promotion of traditional reproductive duties.

All of this happened 100 years ago.

And all of it is happening again today.

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bridgetoesoteria · 2 months

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😡#@! Who is scared of you and why?😰

Honestly, I'm pretty curious to see what the piles hold. Any energy could come through. Professional, romantic, friends/family, etc. 😬

Lets find out! Piles are left to right! (idk why it's so small sorry)

HOPE IT RESONATES. PAY ATTN TO YOUR INTUITION AND HOW THE MESSAGES RESONATE FOR YOU PERSONALLY!!

Pile 1

4 card spread: 6 of wands, 5 of cups, 10 of wands, 5 of swords. BOTD: 8 of swords

Damn Pile 1. Remind me not to mess with you... For some of you, this is a person that perceives you as playing dirty. So you could have "one against them in some "won," in some way. Some examples that are immediately coming to mind would beating a romantic rival or winning some kind of sports tournament.

For others, this could have to deal with the legal system. For the Urban Tarot Deck, the 10 of wands is represented as a man in jail. So this person could be in trouble with the legal system or some kind of institution or authority. For some reason, I do not think you are talking, but maybe its because you can't? Like if they are overseas and its hard to get reliable service, if they are in jail and have limited access to a device, or you have decided to stop speaking. Some of you could be testifying against this person or you could be breaking up/divorcing.

So I used my Bold Perceptions deck and asked how you perceive this person. These are the cards that came out, make of them what you will: "How would you describe or label your style?"// "If you could bring back one fashion from throughout history, which would it be?" (Pile 1, is their fashion sense kinda unique??) If you could see a statistic or number floating above people's heads like in a video game, what would you most want to see and why? (could be a gamer, or someone who you wish you could read better) "What do you think the opposite sex notices about you first?" // "What do you notice first about the opposite sex?" (there could be mutual attraction, one or both of you could be jealous about the attention the other receives)

Why??

Oop! Okay, I see now. I think this person is afraid of you spilling the beans. Interesting that I got a message about the legal system. This does not have to necessarily pertain to the law though. I am also seeing that if you are part of an affair, they could be scared you are going to move on, or that you could expose them.

For some of you this person is scared that you are pregnant. Or there could be something to do with hiding a pregnancy. Some of you it is not that dramatic. This person could be too intimidated to approach you and get communication going again. This will be especially true for situations where you cut this person off over cheating or something. They are trying to keep you from leaving.

There are also a lot of pentacles out. The only cup card is the knight of cups, which is on the bottom of the deck after I pulled clarifiers. So this person could be really focused on stability. Whatever they are scared about ties into their stability and keeping things "under wraps", is what I am specifically hear. But what if you don't want to hear them out?

TL;DR: This is someone that is known to you, but you probably aren't speaking often. There could be an issue with the legal system, a break up, divorce, or secret being exposed. This person could be attractive and have a unique sense of style. You could wish you were able to read their mind. They are scared of you because they do not want to lose their stability or you. They are scared to reach out and get rejected but they are trying to keep everything together.

Pile 2

4 card spread: 6 of swords, 8 of swords, King of Cups, Temperance. BOTD: 10 of swords

This could be family for some of you. A masculine or male figure in your family, so a brother, dad, husband, etc. Or possibly a woman who is more masculine, but I do think for most it is an actual man. I don't think you are in contact with this person. They could have experienced an ending recently or they are under an extreme amount of stress. For some of you, this person could be depressed or struggling with something else mental health related.

There is a sense of trying to find balance with the 6 of swords and temperance. They could also have relocated. I am getting some workaholic vibes. This is starting to remind me of Pile 1... They feel like they lost something and I am getting a lot of "she left and took the kids," type of vibe. Regardless, they certainly feel alone and regretful. For some of you this person has experienced an actual loss and they are trying to find balance again after that.

I used my Bold Perceptions deck and asked how you perceive this person. These are the cards that came out, make of them what you will: "What do you think your best physical feature is?" // "What you think my best physical feature is?" (you and this person may share certain features or look alike or have feature that the other likes) "If you had to rename me, what name would suit me best?" // "What is the worst nickname you can think of for me?" (do they have a cringe nickname? or maybe you call them something else behind their back, like captain poop face lol) "Who would you invite if you threw a party and could bring any three celebrities?" // "What three would least want to come?" (you could perceive this person as being cool, uncool, or well-connected)

Why??

Some of you could be really spicy. Maybe you cussed this person out. If you cut them off they are scared this is a permanent decision. For some of you, they could be scared that you will explore other options. Like maybe you will entire your selfish era and just go where ever your heart tells you. Maybe they pushed you too far this time.

This person could have tried to sell you a dream and you are realizing you can do bad all by yourself. You could be very content on your own, investing in yourself, going out, having a good time. If you aren't in that energy already, they are afraid that you are headed there. For whatever reason, this scares them.

TL;DR: This is a masculine energy, could be a family member for some of you. For example, a brother, husband, or father. They can be someone who is struggling mentally/emotionally right now. They could tend to overwork themselves. You may have left this person. I don't think you have much respect for them anymore. They are scared of you being happier single and realizing that you do not need them. They are scared they have lost you for good. If you haven't entered this energy yet, they are terrified that you will.

Pile 3

**this energy was by far, the most difficult to tap into today!! Some of you might resonate with Pile 2, because I keep mixing them up.

4 card spread: Death, The Tower, Queen of Cups, Ace of Pentacles. BOTD: 5 of wands

So this pile does not have any strong romantic energies like the last pile, but take it however it resonates. I feel more of a friendship that might have gone sour. This could be someone that you fight with or have fought with in the past. They could be a person that is argumentative. You could be the complete opposite of them; Softer, more feminine, gentle... This person could gossip a lot. They could get a lot of attention from suitors but none of the relationships are particularly meaningful or long-lasting. They could like to compete for attention.

Wow, I would not expect a person with this energy to be scared of anyone. But I guess the loudest people are sometimes overcompensating. This could be family or someone you are very close to. They could be used to having control over you or your life in some way. This could be someone that is sad to see you leaving. I think life has definitely started to guide you to different paths.

I don't think you like this person. They could be an asshole fr! The king of swords just came out and that is my "asshole" card. Someone that is pretty selfish. They could also be a liar and harsh with their words. They could be emotionless. You could really dislike them right now. You probably want your space and to learn how to be okay on your own.

Next, I'm pulling from my Bold Perceptions deck. We are asking how you perceive this person. These are the cards that came out, make of them what you will: "In what ways do you think social media has changed dating" // "If you could be in a one-sided open relationship would you?" (this person could be some who cheats, or flirts a lot online. You know, the type of person that stays in people's likes & DMs. You could have met online. They could have tried to play you in some way) "Which emojis remind you the most of me?" // "What are your pet peeves, and what do you think mine are?" (you could text a lot, maybe never went past the talking phase, you could have been roommates) "Ask a Bold question that you have always wanted to." (is there something you want to know about them, or is this someone who you are waiting on to ask you out?)

Why??

They could worry that you are going to find something on their phone. Maybe you already have found out they are flirting with people online or maybe following pages or consuming media you aren't okay with. You could be really defensive toward this person right now. They are scared of your words.

They don't want to lose you. They may have always pictured their future with you in it. They don't want you to make any rash decisions. This person is scared of what happens if you do not accept their apology or offer. They don't want to "start all over," that probably means something different for each situation. But with the 7 of cups being clarified by the 2 of wands and 6 of cups, I think they would rather smooth things over with you. But they are aware it is possible they may have to move on.

TL;DR: Very tough energy to read so maybe this person does not show much emotion. This could be someone you consider an asshole. They could be a big flirt and could use social media to meet people. That could even be how you met. Or this could be the traits of a female friend you fell out with. This person could also be a gossip. They are scared of losing you. They are scared of having to start over if you do not forgive them or accept an offer.

I am trying to stay consistent with posting at least once a week. Kept this one a little shorter cause I have hella assignments 😬🥴

The next reading will be any one of the polls that are left from the poll. What will it be? Mwahaha

👛Tips are muy appreciated.

Ttys 😎😘

~ K

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communistkenobi · 1 year

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I think when people describe dark hallways or all-grey office cubicles as “liminal,” they’re using it as a synonym for creepy, which is not really accurate. What’s being reached for is a sense of dislocation, of being in a place that is not meant for you or is otherwise hostile to you in some way. “Liminal” is limited in its ability to describe those feelings, because the word is typically meant to refer to a place that exists only to get you somewhere else (like an airport, for example, or an interstate highway). “Liminal” isn’t synonymous with “a place of horror,” but I think it’s become that in the tumblr lexicon.

I think a much more robust term for what people are trying to describe is ontological (in)security. Ontological security in geographic scholarship means “a confidence that the world exists as it appears to be.” To give a very basic example, there are handles on doors because the function of a door is to act as a gateway to another space, and the handle is there to open that gateway. You trust that doors with handles are meant to be open and stepped through, and you also trust that door handles will always be placed at a standing person’s waist height - if you’ve ever seen a character try to open a door that leads nowhere in a story, it’s playing with your ontological security. Likewise, you see a flight of stairs and understand implicitly that it exists to facilitate pedestrian traffic to and from a specific place. It’s not a place to have a party with your friends, and you wouldn’t think to go to a stairwell to socialise.

To be ontologically insecure, on the other hand, is to exist in a place that is built for purposes that are not available to you. This is most commonly used in disability scholarship to refer to inaccessible entrances or stairwells - these things exist for able-bodied people only, and the structure of the built environment is now acting as a mechanism to divide people into groups who can use the space and groups who cannot. This is part of the way that ableism essentialises disability, which is then reproduced in the built environment - urban structures are taken as neutral, and if you can’t navigate them effectively, something is wrong with you individually (which of course is not true).

But this idea can be deployed for a variety of contexts - suburbs once built for the wealthy car-driving middle class typically do not have sidewalks in them. And now in many places in North America, suburbs are being inhabited by much poorer families (who are much less likely to own a vehicle), who are being driven out of the city core because now that same wealthy middle class has decided a condo is more fashionable than a detached house. This leaves people to live in places that aren’t built “for them,” to walk in the middle of roads or on lawns because there’s no space for them to walk, forcing them into hostile situations to either be hit by cars or yelled at by neighbours for walking on their grass. These spaces produce ontological insecurity, a sense that you are inhabiting a place that is not meant for you, and because of this you are frequently made less safe as a result.

This is where the critique that cities are structurally ableist, or racist, or misogynistic comes from. Urban environments are usually built by the ruling class, whose interests and aesthetic sensibilities get reproduced in the roads they build and houses they erect, and if you don’t happen to fit the profile of the ruling class (ie most people), some parts of a city are always going to be less safe for you. This is why in extremely spread-out, low density cities (LA for example), public transit is difficult to implement on a structural level (on top of all the political pushback), because these spaces are structured in such a way to be hostile to certain modes of travel or behaviour (eg any mode of transit that isn’t a car). They are built for a specific ideal archetype of person, and if you don’t fit into that, you’re much less safe and much less secure.

So if you want to use this in fantasy settings or horror or whatever, you need to approach the built environment as a historical process the same way that a government or law is. Office spaces are not “liminal,” but they can be sites of horror because their physical structure compels certain modes of social behaviour, and trying to work against that grain can make you feel “out of place” - i.e., ontologically insecure.

#geography #book club #slightly edited the definition #since ontological security means something different in geog than it does in other academic spheres

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urbanfashionsense · 5 months

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RECAP: HOT 97'S TT TORREZ HOSTS DREAMS & BEYOND YOUNG WOMEN EMPOWERMENT DINNER WITH SURPRISE GUESTS DREAM DOLL AND CONNIE DIAMOND

#TT Torrez #HOT 97 #Dream Doll #Women Empowerment #Beatstro #NYC #Bronx #The Bronx #New York #hip hop #music #Connie Diamond #youth empowerment #urban fashion sense #celebrity guests #event

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bitchy-craft · 1 year

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Your Future Spouse Their Clothing Aesthetic | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how your future spouse dresses / their aesthetic. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Ungoing Tarot Game

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Minimalist Aesthetic: The minimalist aesthetic is characterized by simplicity, clean lines, and a focus on functionality. It embraces a "less is more" approach, with a limited color palette, minimal patterns, and streamlined silhouettes.

Key elements of this aesthetic include well-tailored basics, neutral colors such as black, white, gray, and beige, and a preference for high-quality fabrics. Minimalist fashion often emphasizes the importance of quality over quantity, and accessories are kept to a minimum.

Pile 2:

Bohemian Aesthetic: The bohemian aesthetic, also known as boho or boho-chic, draws inspiration from the free-spirited and unconventional style of the bohemian counterculture. It is characterized by a relaxed and eclectic mix of patterns, textures, and colors.

Bohemian fashion embraces a sense of individuality and self-expression, often incorporating elements such as flowing maxi dresses, loose-fitting tops, fringe details, embroidery, floral prints, and earthy tones. Layering and accessorizing with items like floppy hats, beaded jewelry, and suede or leather accents are common in this aesthetic.

Pile 3:

Streetwear Aesthetic: The streetwear aesthetic originated from urban youth culture and has become a prominent fashion style. It blends elements of sportswear, casual attire, and a rebellious attitude. Streetwear is often associated with brands and logos, graphic t-shirts, hoodies, sneakers, and baggy or oversized garments.

Key features of this aesthetic include bold colors, statement prints, unique patterns, and a mix of high-end and streetwear-specific brands. Accessorizing with caps, backpacks, and statement jewelry is also common in streetwear fashion.

Pile 4:

Preppy Aesthetic: The preppy aesthetic draws inspiration from traditional Ivy League and upper-class fashion. It exudes a polished and sophisticated look with a focus on classic, timeless pieces. Key elements of preppy fashion include well-fitted clothing, clean lines, and a mix of vibrant colors and patterns.

Typical items associated with this aesthetic include polo shirts, button-down Oxford shirts, khaki pants, tailored blazers, pleated skirts, and loafers. Accessories like pearl necklaces, headbands, and structured handbags are often incorporated into the preppy style.

Pile 5:

Gothic Aesthetic: The gothic aesthetic is characterized by its dark, dramatic, and often theatrical style. It draws inspiration from the gothic subculture, with influences from Victorian and medieval fashion. The color black is predominant in gothic fashion, and it is often combined with rich, deep hues like burgundy, purple, and dark green.

The gothic style embraces unconventional silhouettes, intricate lace details, corsets, leather accents, fishnet stockings, and platform boots. Accessories like chokers, statement jewelry with occult symbols, and dramatic makeup are also common in this aesthetic.

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It's important to note that fashion aesthetics can vary greatly, and these descriptions provide a general overview of each style. Fashion is highly subjective, and individuals often incorporate elements from different aesthetics to create their own unique personal style.

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seat-safety-switch · 7 months

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"You gotta get down here," explains Inspector Hector. "Those beavers are eating the whole campsite!"

Let me explain. Back in the 90s, I spent a lot of time (not even court-ordered) volunteering at a campground. They gave me a place to sleep in exchange for the work, and the place was basically empty during the winter. This idyllic environment (completely devoid of human life) worked wonders for my mental health, and also gave me an opportunity to work on as many small engines (Deeres, Kubotae, what have you) as the other volunteers could break.

Over the years, I migrated away from there, into the city, to get what boring people call "an actual job." However, they kept my phone number, and once in awhile I'd get called in for a disaster that only I could handle. Usually it was small, like a torn fuel-pump diaphragm, and sometimes it was not. This was one of the latter cases.

We'd had beaver infestations at the campsite before. In the fall, they get real fucked up on the low water levels from the downstream reservoir. It's not enough water to survive, and certainly not enough in which to build a boss beaver hangout. Their little rodent brains freak out, and they start trying to dam everything in sight. Problem is, this happens every year, and trees take a really long time to regrow. Over the years, these waffle-tailed motherfuckers have gotten closer and closer to the camp as they progressively deforest the area around the river. And now they were, if Hector was to be believed, eating the buildings.

My mission held that I had to get rid of these beavers somehow, but in a humane fashion. While campground life had given me some skills and a sense of self, urban life had given me a sense of degenerate resourcefulness. I knew exactly what I had to do. Home Depot's famously warped and water-logged lumber is completely useless for all tasks. All tasks, that is, except for "bribing beavers to go away." So if you come by the river this winter and notice that the beaver dams look a little poorly constructed all of a sudden, you can thank the shareholders of the orange toilet store.

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darkandstormydolls · 9 days

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PSA to all historical fiction/fantasy writers:

A SEAMSTRESS, in a historical sense, is someone whose job is sewing. Just sewing. The main skill involved here is going to be putting the needle into an out of the fabric. They’re usually considered unskilled workers, because everyone can sew, right? (Note: yes, just about everyone could sew historically. And I mean everyone.) They’re usually going to be making either clothes that aren’t fitted (like shirts or shifts or petticoats) or things more along the lines of linens (bedsheets, handkerchiefs, napkins, ect.). Now, a decent number of people would make these things at home, especially in more rural areas, since they don’t take a ton of practice, but they’re also often available ready-made so it’s not an uncommon job. Nowadays it just means someone whose job is to sew things in general, but this was not the case historically. Calling a dressmaker a seamstress would be like asking a portrait painter to paint your house

A DRESSMAKER (or mantua maker before the early 1800s) makes clothing though the skill of draping (which is when you don’t use as many patterns and more drape the fabric over the person’s body to fit it and pin from there (although they did start using more patterns in the early 19th century). They’re usually going to work exclusively for women, since menswear is rarely made through this method (could be different in a fantasy world though). Sometimes you also see them called “gown makers”, especially if they were men (like tailors advertising that that could do both. Mantua-maker was a very feminized term, like seamstress. You wouldn’t really call a man that historically). This is a pretty new trade; it only really sprung up in the later 1600s, when the mantua dress came into fashion (hence the name).

TAILORS make clothing by using the method of patterning: they take measurements and use those measurements to draw out a 2D pattern that is then sewed up into the 3D item of clothing (unlike the dressmakers, who drape the item as a 3D piece of clothing originally). They usually did menswear, but also plenty of pieces of womenswear, especially things made similarly to menswear: riding habits, overcoats, the like. Before the dressmaking trade split off (for very interesting reason I suggest looking into. Basically new fashion required new methods that tailors thought were beneath them), tailors made everyone’s clothes. And also it was not uncommon for them to alter clothes (dressmakers did this too). Staymakers are a sort of subsect of tailors that made corsets or stays (which are made with tailoring methods but most of the time in urban areas a staymaker could find enough work so just do stays, although most tailors could and would make them).

Tailors and dressmakers are both skilled workers. Those aren’t skills that most people could do at home. Fitted things like dresses and jackets and things would probably be made professionally and for the wearer even by the working class (with some exceptions of course). Making all clothes at home didn’t really become a thing until the mid Victorian era.

And then of course there are other trades that involve the skill of sewing, such as millinery (not just hats, historically they did all kinds of women’s accessories), trimming for hatmaking (putting on the hat and and binding and things), glovemaking (self explanatory) and such.

TLDR: seamstress, dressmaker, and tailor are three very different jobs with different skills and levels of prestige. Don’t use them interchangeably and for the love of all that is holy please don’t call someone a seamstress when they’re a dressmaker

#sewing #historical sewing #sewing knowledge #writing guide #PSA to writers #historical fiction #fantasy writing

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taylorswiftstyle · 8 months

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Out and about | September 5, 2023

Yuzefi ‘Fortune Cookie Bag’ - $593.00

There are a few things that are mainstays of Taylor’s fashion that makes her sense of style not only unique to her, but noteworthy for a celebrity of her stature.

Her penchant for repeating/rewearing items (often over the span of many years), her love of an accessible brand (think Urban Outfitters, Free People), and her intentionality in opting for lesser known or indie brands. We see that third point on display here in opting for a bag by Yuzefi — a London-based brand by Iranian-born Naza Yousefi who started her namesake-inspired accessories line in only 2016.

There’s also a part of me that wonders if the positive manifestation and future-forward thinking of the style name appealed to her.

Worn with: Ralph Lauren hat, Gabriela Hearst top, Vince pants, and The Row boots

Photo by Robert Kamau via Getty Images

#taylor swift #candid #bag #yuzefi #september 2023

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neon-lights-and-glitter · 5 months

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Fight The Feeling- Part 14 Long Way From A Wife And Kids

Summary- Right before New York Fashion week, Jack's song Mockingbird Valley gets released, which includes a line that you don't take in the way Jack meant it.

You and Jack had flown into New York on Thursday night, about a week and a half after the Grammy Awards. Jack was featured on a song with DJ Drama, “Mockingbird Valley” that was coming out shortly after you landed. You tried to stay awake with Jack but ended up falling asleep about 30 minutes before the song came out. Sure, Jack could have just played the song, but you wanted to be surprised. And when you listened to the song the next day, you certainly were, but not in a good way.

You woke up to several texts about Jack’s song, or more specifically a specific line in the song. At first, you thought everyone was overreacting, so you ignored it. It wasn’t until later in the day when Jack was in the shower that you had a moment to listen to the song.

“Long way from a wife and kids”

You were pissed yet you didn’t know how to feel at the same time. You wanted to be rational and have a conversation with Jack about the line, but your emotions got the best of you.

You and Jack had plans to get lunch before going to watch a Chanel runway show. You were already ready as Jack walked out of the bathroom pretty much ready except for throwing on a hoodie. You didn’t acknowledge Jack as he walked into the bedroom which was unlike you.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked, walking over to the bed.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” You said and Jack sighed softly.

“Okay, what did I do?” Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Does “long way from a wife and kids” sound familiar?” You asked sarcastically.

“I can explain.”

“I don’t want your bullshit explanation, Jack. I thought you were taking this seriously and wanted to be with me but you lied to me. You’re making me look like an idiot by being with someone who doesn’t want to be with me. Worse than that, you’re saying you don’t want to have a kid with me when I am currently pregnant with your baby.”

“It’s not like that. I didn’t mean it in that way. Just give me a chance to explain,” Jack started but you interrupted him.

“Don’t make it worse. Let’s just pretend to love each other, go to lunch and the Chanel show then we can come back to the hotel and you can go back to not wanting to be with me.” Jack sighed, but he knew better than to argue more.

You were hurt and you felt lied to. Jack knew you needed to get through your initial reaction to the lyrics first, then he knew he could explain and make things right. Plus, it would be easier to do at home anyway.

“I’m going to explain when we get home, and I promise it will make sense,” Jack said and all you did was ignore him, getting up from the bed, grabbing your bag, and walking out the door. Jack sighed before following you.

The city was already filled with paparazzi, but since you were staying in a hotel where several other celebrities were also staying, your building was surrounded. Jack walked in front of you, shielding you from the paparazzi, holding your hand so you didn’t lose each other. Once you got to the car, Jack let you get in first, and as soon as the door was closed you dropped Jack’s hand.

Urban ended up meeting you and Jack for lunch. When you went to the bathroom Urban decided to ask Jack how you reacted to his song.

“So I take it she’s not upset? She’s acting fine.” Urban said and Jack shook his head.

“Oh no, she’s pissed. She yelled at me in the hotel before we left. She’s only acting like she’s not angry since we’re in public.” You, Jack, and Urban were in the corner of the restaurant where you could be seen, but you weren’t close enough to anyone else so they couldn’t hear you.

“Even after you explained?”

“No, she won’t let me explain.

“Dude. You know as soon as you explain it everything will be fine.”

“She won’t let me. I’m just going to let her be pissed at me until we get home, then I’ll explain.”

“I mean if you think that’s what’s right, but I don’t,” Urban said before Jack nodded his head, signaling that you were coming back. Urban changed the subject.

“I’m ready whenever you two are,” You said, Jack had already paid so the three of you left and made your way to the Chanel show.

Watching the show was uneventful. It was nice to not think about the situation with Jack for a short time. Even if you wanted to shrug off his arm that was around your shoulders the whole time.

Once you and Jack returned to the hotel, you immediately got ready for bed, almost completely ignoring Jack until you were getting in bed. Jack had gotten ready for bed at the same time, already lying in bed.

“Goodnight,” You said as you turned away from Jack.

“Goodnight,” Jack said, sighing softly.

The next morning was spent trying to ignore Jack and for the first time, Jack let you. You were walking in one of the two runway shows you were in that night and Jack didn’t want to make you more upset so he left you alone.

You had to be at the venue early in the afternoon to get your hair and makeup done, so Jack decided to meet you there a little later. As soon as you left, Jack placed an order for dinner from the pizza place you ate from the night you met, which happened to become your favorite pizza place in New York.

On his way to the venue, Jack made sure to stop by a local florist where he had ordered you a bouquet of flowers a week prior.

As soon as he walked into the venue, he showed his credentials to be allowed backstage, asking to be led to your private dressing room. Not many models received private dressing rooms, but you would occasionally still experience morning sickness as a side effect of your pregnancy so it was something you asked for before you agreed to do the show. Luckily the venue was able to accommodate and the brand agreed to your request.

Jack knocked softly on the door.

“Come in.” You called out, looking into the mirror that was in front of you so you could see who walked in. You sighed softly when you saw Jack walk in, closing the door behind him.

“Hi. I’ll leave you alone after this if you want, but I wanted to give you these.” Jack said, handing out the bouquet so you could take it. “They aren’t apology flowers or anything. They are just simply I’m proud of you flowers. Even though I’m sure you hate me right now, and I don’t blame you, I wanted you to know that I’m extremely proud of you. I’m saving the I’m sorry for when we get home.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly as you took the flowers. “I also don’t hate you, I could never. I’m mad at you, but I don’t hate you. You can stay in here, I already double-checked that your seat was reserved.” Jack nodded as he sat down.

“Oh, and I might have ordered pizza from our favorite place that will be delivered to the hotel right about when we get back.”

“That is the best thing you could have done.”

“Ordering pizza?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“Yes, I have been craving that pizza since the last time I was in New York.”

You and Jack sat in your dressing room making small talk. You were still mad at him, but it was less awkward to ignore it for now than to sit in silence. Jack went out to his seat when you were getting your hair and makeup touched up.

Jack watched as you walked down the runway two separate times, cheering a little louder for you than he cheered for anyone else. Unlike when he surprised you in Paris, he didn’t have to hide his support for you, so he didn’t.

Your second show the next day and the rest of your trip went very similar. Slightly awkward, neither of you wanted to address the lyrics or the fact that you were mad at Jack, but you also couldn’t act like you weren’t.

When you landed back home from New York it was late at night so you and Jack went to your apartments. You wanted a little time alone to think about everything and even if it didn’t help you figure out the situation, you did feel better after.

The next day you had a doctor’s appointment which Jack came to. When he dropped you off at your apartment, he walked you to your door.

“Um, can I come in and maybe explain everything?” Jack asked nervously, one of his hands playing with something that was in his pocket.

“Yeah,” You said hesitantly, you weren’t sure if you were ready to talk about the lyric, but you wanted to get it over with. Jack followed you into your apartment, both of you sitting on the couch.

“I know you probably want to yell at me, and I don’t blame you, but can I explain first, and then if you still want to yell at me you can?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“Yes, you can explain first.”

“I wrote the line ‘long way from a wife and kids’ after we broke up but before I found out about the baby. It wasn’t meant to be a dig at you or saying that I never wanted to marry you. It was coming from a place of I knew how much I hurt you and how upset that made me. I fucked up our relationship so badly and I knew that it was going to take me a while to get over losing you. I wasn’t going to be ready to marry or have kids with anyone for awhile. I didn’t know if I would ever want to marry or have kids with someone other than you.” Jack explained.

“Jack,” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m not done yet. I did want to marry you. I planned on it. This isn’t a proposal, but I even got you a ring.” Jack said, pulling the ring box out of his pocket. He opened it before he handed it to you. “I had the ring for a little while, I just didn’t know how I wanted to propose so I never got a chance to. I still do want to marry you, I never stopped wanting to marry you and one day I think I will get to marry you. I want you to have this ring because when I do get to propose, I don’t want to do it with the same ring I bought you before I cheated on you. I did buy it for you though. I don’t have to propose to give you a ring”

You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what you wanted to say.

“You don’t have to tell me how you feel right now.” Jack told you.

“Can I have some time to think? I don’t know what to say.”

“Of course. Do you want me to leave so you can have some time alone?” Jack asked and you nodded. “Okay, let me know when you’re ready to talk. If you need anything, call me okay?” You nodded before Jack left your apartment.

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