been thinking about some discourse/complaints/criticisms i've seem of sevika fics circulating (most aren't new and thats honestly tragic) and thought i'd give my opinion.
one criticism i've seem repetitively (and one I do agree with from time to time) is the way some writers characterise sevika borders or crosses into fetishization.
before having a discussion around 'fetishization' i first have to define it. fetishization is the act of objectifying someone to a singular trait, characteristic, or identity and treating them as an object of desire, rather than seeing their full humanity.
this is a very serious discussion to be had and cannot be brushed under the rug with 'write your own' or 'dont like don't read'. it might not be noticable to all but fandom racism exists. white supremacy affects everything to exist within our world. and one way it applies in fandom is suppressing and silencing the voices of those affected by racism to appease thoer counterparts who just want to do what they want without criticism/backlash. valueing white comfort over anything else.
in terms of masculine lesbians, there is a very real stereotype of being "scary", "dominant", "aggressive", "rejection of femininity" and "traditionally masculine". it's sometimes to the point where these traits become internalized, especially within the stud community. many studs, and by extension dark skinned masc lesbians, feel both a internal and external pressure to present and behave in a specific way. there's pressure to "act hard" and reject anything that they perceived as too feminine out of fear of being invalidated. on the other side of the coin there's black femmes (AMBESSA!!!) being called studs but that deserves its own full conversation.
amd when this stereotype is repetitively flung onto sevika, especially without any subtextual commentaries (ones I try to include in my writing because that is the lens in which I see the world), it reads as fetishization.
and i do in a way understand where this characterization of sevika comes from. in canon she's ruthless, tough, sensible, chooses offensive measures rather than defensive ones, empathetic, straightforward. but to immediately translate this personality into a sadist that disregards safe words just seems to disregard any other possible dynamic.
personality is not an inherent indicator of sexual desires or dynamics. the possibilities are honestly endless. submissive sevika who needs to feel safe and taken care of because she's been so let down and disappointed in her life by everyone else. dominant sevika who needs to feel trusted by her submissive because she doesn't trust in herself. submissive sevika that is learning to let go of her need to control what's going to happen.
point is when folks are seeing the same cut and dry 'dominant sevika that needs to relieve her stress by using reader' it just doesn't read like exploration of the character like the above examples.
and i will say something in defense of those fics. they're allowed to exist and no one has the right to take that from our dear writers. sometimes fiction is just used as a way to explore and navigate sexuality and kink and the character is merely the car. not every fic has to be a deep dive into sevika's wants, needs, or suppressed desires. this is not an insult to other writers capabilities but not all of us have the want or ability to write a character analysis through smut. not all writers have the same lens that i do.
and not everyone who feels the way i do will have the patience or ability to articulate their feelings the way i am now. i do want to clarify that this isn't a "you need to change how you're writing" post but rather a "not every complaint is coming from someone sitting on a high horse". fiction is a reflection of reality and i simply wanted to point out the reality that some writers have inadvertently reflected in their fics.
all in all, i'll say the same things i've said on here before. don't go looking for something in places you're not going to find it. find a writer that does characterize sevika in a way you enjoy. they're out there, trust me. every writer, myself included, has infinite space to improve. i know how disheartening is feels to navigate fandom when the attitude is "this is just how it is. it's your responsibility to block out things you don't like" when we've been raised in a "see something, say something" world. if anything, the best attitude is "pick your battles" because this is the internet and people here have nothing but time to fight. conserve your energy, twin. be familiar with the block button.
this is hardly the first time someone's talked about the characterization of sevika in fanfiction and it obviously will not be the last. this is simply a opportunity to listen to a black masculine lesbian's voice on the matter.
⤑ Summary: You were being extra flirty with your clients. Vika's stone glare icing every curved contour of your breasts spilling out of your v-neck,your hips, and your ass… you knew you were in massive shit.
Yall remember that fight scene when Cait bit Sev… mhm, yeah…
She was pissed.
More than pissed if such a thing even existed.
"Aren't you overdoing it, just a tad?" When you look over at your co-worker, all you can see warring in her pale grey eyes is nothing but intense fear. Vika has that effect on people.
You try to disassociate.
You wage war with your own consciousness, pretending his hand was hers.
That's the only way you could get through these clients and their slithering hands drifting along your exposed thigh, urging you to have 'just one more drink' so you could be drunk enough to be used for whatever their lascivious little minds could think of.
Your current client, bless his soul, was chatting animatedly to his crooked group of gang members while his hand creeped over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He didn't feel like her.
He's far too skinny. Such a jagged edge. It is difficult to imagine it was her hardness you are pressing your softness up against.
You are currently knee-deep in your job, keeping a couple of clients company in a neon lit corner of The Last Drop. Your co-worker speaks to you over the thick arm of her own client who uses her as nothing more than a thing to grope, while the gang speaks amongst themselves. Your conversation is subtle enough so as not to disturb the narcissistic man from his tedious, incredibly one-sided conversation.
You lift your cup full of untouched whiskey to your mouth, pretending to take a sip but really using it as a screen to hide your lips when you whisper back, "Overdoing what? My job?"
"Chatting these lowlifes up to give them severely underpriced blowjobs was your job. Not anymore." You didn't like the way she said 'was’. You really didn't like the way your client put his hand on your exposed thigh. It seems he had taken your miniskirt as an invitation to press his rough hands against your full, touching thighs. He still speaks to his friends as if you're not a real person, just something there. Something to touch.
"It's still my job, I'm still a whore-"
"Your girlfriend has been glaring at our table since she came in." Her words send an electrifying kind of rattle down your spine, forcing your eyes to briefly meet the dead ones of the woman seated directly across the dance floor. Dead, cold eyes stare at you, have been staring at you since she saw you hard 'at work'. You attempted to evade all eye contact over the course of the night and you had succeeded for the most part.
She didn't get to do that.
She didn't get to claim you and then simultaneously refuse to be seen with you.
Naturally, you would do the same.
"Vika's not my girlfriend," you hated the way you quickly ushered the words out of your mouth, immediately drowning them with whiskey so as to not feel their effects so poignantly.
"Vika?" Your co- worker scoffs in amusement. “I haven't seen a more volatile couple in a while,” She raises her glass to you, “Thanks for the front row seats” While your co-worker’s chuckles carry across the congested bar (what is in actuality, a thinly veiled brothel), Sevika feels her heavy fists clench. She stays in the same spot she's been sitting at. Her legs spread, her elbows resting on her knees. Glaring. Drinking. Glaring some more.
She's far grumpier than usual. Anyone could see it.
Her eyes never leave your table as she downs her nth glass of the strongest whiskey The Last Drop has to offer and she watches how effortlessly you betray her. Just last night, it had been her name tumbling from your trembling lips in drunken spurts as your cunt fought to take every one of her fingers. It had been your drunken, half lidded eyes that had looked up at her like a God, pleading for her to let you cum for umpteenth time as you bucked wildly against her. You came because she allowed you to. Like a loyal dog, you had dutifully accepted everything she gave you.
So why were you being such a brat?
Sevika has had to watch you bat your eyes up at unfamiliar men. All she could think of is dismembering each and every one of those hands groping at you and making you watch as the blood splattered. The thought alone caused a rough sort of groan to rumble from her mouth. She was bloodthirsty and horny and luckily that was your speciality.
Sevika downed the final drops of whiskey that had accumulated from the bottom of the bottle. Wiping her plump, toned lips with the back of her hand, she finally rises, making a direct beeline for your table.
As she nears, your heart hammers, yet still you refuse to look at the woman and her intimidating height or her even more intimidating arms. She wasn't wearing her cloak tonight, so you could see everything. All 185 centimeters of pure strength. Your legs clenched under the table as you looked innocently up at her.
"Move," Sevika gruffs out the very second she stands in front of the table, effectively silencing everyone present. The crass rap song bleeding from unseen speakers continues in the backdrop.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Your client begins to ask, stunned yet remarkably shaken up. Despite trying to sound gruff, you could feel a slight tremor in his bones. The way his shoulders shrink under Sevika's shadow makes you roll your eyes.
Sevika's voice is calm but menacing. “Look, I get it. She has the body of a goddess and she fucks like she doesn't have a father-”
“H-Hey-” she doesn't spare you a single glance. Continuing to stare down the little man. Never once stumbling over her words.
“If you don't wanna lose your life, I suggest you give her to me.”
“You're dating Sevika?” he asks, very clearly rattled but masking it, albeit terribly.
“I'm not-” you begin but Sevika interrupts once more.
"My whore, please," she says, sounding bored.
"Your whore?” The man who had been on the verge of slipping his hand between your thighs, stops almost abruptly. He watches Sevika with a mixture of confusion and thinly-veneered fear.
"Fucking, Move." She does not expect you to have her say it again. By now, you should have heeded her first command. Very quickly, actually. Very obediently
With your head tucked against your heavy chest.
The fact that you weren't listening to her had her hand aching to grab you by the neck and force the submission out of you.
"I don't really have to do what you say." You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head petulantly. She hated it. She hated how much she fucking loved it.
You lean forward. Not sure where this confidence came from but praying it doesn't abandon you. Confidence is all you have in her presence. Without it, you're defenseless. And Sevika is a shark. She'll smell your weakness and it'll arouse her.
She places her hand on the table, and rests that menacing mechanical weapon there, too. The glasses rattle. She looks dead at you as she says, "If you don't get up right this second, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill everyone at this table.” By now, the hand that had been inching along your thigh is gone. Almost everyone around you has made a clear point to distance themselves, like you caught some weird disease named Sevika. One that you just could not shake. It pisses you off.
“You're bluffing.” You say.
“Am I?”
She does something.
Something that makes that new mechanical arm of hers steam and hiss like it's begging to be used. The blood drains from not only your face, but from the faces of every patron at the table. The vibe has been ruined. It lay in rubble at Sevika’s feet. ‘She-She's all yours,” your client all but pushes you away from their booth, right into Sevika's good arm.
“Seriously!?”
Her hand immediately wrestles into your hair, pulling your hair tie out while letting your braids rush down.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” She places her hand, warm and fucking menacing, right behind your neck as she steers you to the central stairs. Your eyes are wild and pleading as you attempt to make eye contact with anyone brave enough to save you and stand up to her. All eyes immediately flit away from you, leaving you stranded. You might as well be wearing one long leash, being dragged across the dirty bar floor on all fours as you followed your master wherever she pleased.
You can feel the entire table, probably the entire bar watching you make your humiliating ascension on the wooden staircase. You knew where she was taking you. One of the many doors on the second floor that were left unchartered by normal patrons.
“You're brave,” Sevika's mouth reaches the top of your head and you have to crane your head back at her, “I'll give you that.”
“Vika- I-”
“Oh it's ‘Vika now?” Her voice sounds playful, but behind the bangs falling over her lifeless eyes, her face is stone.
“P-Please,” you stop outside a wooden door. You're not sure what you're whimpering for, probably a sliver of mercy.
Mercy you knew she wasn't in the business of giving. Something like her couldn't give mercy.
“I fucking love to hear you beg,” she groans, before pushing you into the darkened room.
“You should've led with that,” The second you enter the cold, damp room, your back is pressed against the hard wood with a firm, large grip cutting off your oxygen. You're clawing desperately at her fingers, thinking, this is it. She's come to finally kill you. Somehow you always knew you would die at her hands. Whether it's while she's strumming you to a mind-numbing orgasm. You knew she'd end you.
“Who told you to continue selling what's mine?” There is no air, and your vision is collecting black spots. Vika forces you to gaze upon her, that deep frown forever plastered on her face and that incredibly flattering haircut. The fight in you is dying. “You don't get to go anywhere. You don't get to pass out on me, little girl, were just getting started-”
In a splitting, heavenly moment, right when you're about to crash, she unlocks her fist, bringing the air rushing back into your lungs. “Who the fuck said you could just go back to your day job like you don't belong to me?” Her hand, restless and angry slips from your throat, down to your chest. You're not wearing a bra, standard uniform for someone in your sordid line of work. It makes her anger heighten and you wince as she twists your nipples through the thin fabric of your ridiculously tight top. Her eyes rove over every curvy contour, your soft, protruding stomach, and your exposed thighs. “My body is the way I make money, Sev-” a gasp so furious wrenches itself from your throat as Sevika wastes no time pushing her thigh against your legs. She's so tall, you worry for a second as your feet lift slightly off the floor and you're made to straddle her thigh.
Sevika's mechanical arm does away with your top as if it's nothing.
Soon, the clumsy, cheap material lay in pieces on the ground. She does the very same with your skirt. The arm has teeth. Teeth that rip at fabric so easily you fear it might get hungry and bite out a chunk of your skin. But Sevika controls it well. And now you’re completely naked with only a string of cultural beads hanging from your waist. Your chest is completely exposed to her hungry eyes.
She can't take her eyes off them. Your heavy breasts and darkened nipples have her pushing her leg further between your thighs, urging you to ride her.
Despite your soft yet heavy curves she handled you like you were nothing.
“I shouldnt even fucking touch you,” she spits, despite her hand very hungrily squeezing your tit. “You make me fucking sick.”
“So why touch me then?” That tone was back. Sevika cranes your head back with a firm but oppressive grip on your cheek. Your smile is manic, teeth dripping with saliva as you spread your legs for her thigh. Immediately bucking your hips against her.
“If I'm such a filthy fucking whore, why waste your time on me, huh? You that obsessed with me Sev-”
A slap, so hot and scalding bloom across your cheek, tears sting your eyes. You rear your head back, eyes flooded with shock and gratitude because thank God she hadn't used her other arm.
All you see is death in her eyes. The air is quiet as you both contemplate her slap.
“F-Fuck-” the moan oozes out of you until you're slowly starting to rut against her leg once more. She's outrageously intrigued to find you more turned on than you had been a second ago. Her stoney visage cracks at the way your hips move hurriedly against her thigh, she could feel a damp spot forming.
“Being a brat makes you more insatiable than you usually are,” her voice is thick with unmistakable lust. "You’re fucking my thigh- shit-”
Your eyes are rolled back as you focus on humping against her like the insatiable little puppy you were made to feel like, “M'not a brat ‘Vika,” she loved the way you groaned. The way you're trembling little arms move up to secure themselves around her thick shoulders as you use her to milk your own pleasure.
“So just a bitch then?” She asks, panting, as she bends down until your lips are inches apart. She nips at your pouting bottom lip and she doesn't miss the way the word ‘bitch’ has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You nod dumbly, so far gone, “Oh, you are a worthless little bitch huh?” Your hips stutter as a particular wave of pleasure has you humping her faster. “Look at you, you're fucking drenched and you expect me to share you?”
“M-My body is the way I make money.” You repeat. Too far gone to realize your slurring words have become incoherent. “Y-You can't monopolize on that-”
“You're mine-” a smile, evil and lascivious curls at her lips and you immediately lean forward to kiss them but her hand slithers up to keep your neck at bay. “-And you’re gonna cum soon- look at how fucking bad you want it,” She digs her hands into your braids forcing your head downwards. You're forced to watch your hips buck against her thigh. You immediately tweak your own nipples as your orgasm crests. “Shit- Sev, Fuck I'm gonna-”
“Watch that fucking tone..."
“I’m gonna cum- please hit me agai-” the second her palm contacts your skin, she's kissing against your cheek where the pain blooms. You come undone.
“F-Fuck, oh my God.” you ride her thigh like a bitch in heat and somehow Sevika feels accomplished when you use her like this, she feels like she might just cum watching you slip into your own orgasm and it drives her nuts.
Her fist slams against the wall at the side of your head as your hips stutter over your thigh, her breath is warm at your ear. “Fuck-” she hates the way she nearly cums from watching you alone. She hates the thought of anyone else easing this reaction out of you. They wouldn't know how to work your body like she does. They wouldn't know how to get you compliant like she can. And as you're high on the clouds of your orgasm, Sevika clamps a thick metal band around your neck. Aftershocks have your speech slurred and your eyes heavy.
“Wha- what's this? Sev, what the fuck is this-”
“My gift.” she kisses the side of your head, having yet to move her leg between yours.
💭 thinking about sevika who works with your family in the business of building racecars. specifically fixated on how her arms would look opening the shop doors via the chain pulls. or how she’d look wiping grease on her coveralls. or her strong hands adjusting the car frame. or…
Request for Drabble event thingy: Werewolf Sevika accidentally knots in your mouth while you’re giving her a blowjob
werewolf wife!sevika, knotting, oral, slight size kink, cum swallowing, she’s kinda submissive here
Your wife often got like this.
You didn’t mind, you could only imagine being a werewolf was hard especially when humans actively hunted them down and killed them… Sevika always managed to stay really low but whenever she was in heat, things got a little messy because of how desperately she needed to fuck you.
Sometimes, she wouldn’t be able to control herself at all.
She didn’t mean to lose control and you knew it, you told her over and over that it was okay, and you understood. Tonight, she didn’t want to fuck you like she had yesterday night because of how awfully sore she’d left you.
“Hey,” you cupped her face with both hands, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But we know you get violent if your libido isn’t… taken care of.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I know.”
“What do we do then?”
“I don’t know…”
You reached down. Sevika watched as you settled between her legs. She was laid on the bed, back propped up using some pillows. She stared as you tugged her belt off and slid her pants down just enough to let her throbbing cock out. Your hand held the shaft and you licked the tip.
“You’re so hard.” You whispered.
“Ain’t that obvious?” Sevika grumbled as she watched you carefully licking her precum off her dick.
You wrapped your lips around it with utmost care and slowly let your head sink down on her length, taking more and more until half of her cock was buried in your mouth. She was thicker than she was lengthier and that’s what made it hard to breathe around her dick when sucking it.
Sevika groaned, head thrown back from the pleasure. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven on her cock.
You slipped it in deeper. Her body jolted a little when the bulbous head of her dick hit the back of your throat. You were already drooling around her dick.
You deepthroated her, closing your eyes as you did. Sevika’s lips were parted but not a single proper sound made it out. Her body had tensed from the pleasure. You could feel the tension in her thighs as you gripped them. She was so muscular, so big, so intimidating— but all it took was your mouth on her dick to have her so fucking vulnerable.
It was almost comical.
It didn’t take too many pumps. Sevika had been stressed out and pent up. The moment her cock head hit the back of your throat a couple times, Sevika let out a small, breathless moan and came down your throat.
But that wasn’t it.
It was the knot. Her knot flared, sealing your mouth locked around her cock in the process. You choked on her cum, eyes wide with newly formed tears trickling down now. Your cheeks flushed.
“Nnngh—!?”
You couldn’t speak. Your sounds came muffled. Sevika quickly reached down, but she couldn’t part you both. Her knot would take a little time to go down.
“Sorry…—”
You shook your head slightly, and showed a thumbs up with your hand. Sevika sighed.
“Didn’t know it would—”
Your tongue circled her tip. She gasped, “fuck! Fuck!”
She was so sensitive. You were gonna use that to your advantage.
Sevika is known as "Zaun's Scariest Woman," but when she's alone with you, she could give the sweetest, most innocent dog a run for its money.
------
Sevika barely uttered a word when she came in that night. You thought to scold her when she didn't greet you as normal, but judging by her rigid shoulders and perpetual scowl, she'd had a particularly crappy day.
When she finally finished her longer-than-usual shower and night routine, she clambered into bed, reaching to pull you closer before burying her head in your chest. She sighed, then inhaled, then sighed again.
"Hi, baby," she finally said.
"Hey. You...feeling better?"
She nodded and tightened her grip around you. "'m sorry. Didn't mean not to speak earlier. Wasn't mad at you or anything. Just...had a day. Needed to unwind."
You brushed strands of her loose hair out of her face. Innocent strokes traced arcane marble, massaged her skin until you journeyed to train fingers through dark hair. "You know I'd help you with that if you asked."
She buried her face deeper, muffling her voice. "You're helping a lot now."
You smiled.
Having moved to lay between your legs, Sevika rested there, nuzzling her nose into the side of your breast. She breathed. Deeply.
You sat with her for an unspoken amount of time, feathering your nails across her scalp and down her neck for the occasional shiver that rolled down her spine. She wasn't sleeping—not yet, anyway, even in the dim, amber-lit bedroom you shared—but soaking in the comfort. For a person like Sevika in her line of work, high stress was a given, an expectation. Day in and day out was a fight for survival and a fight for freedom. There would always be days like this, where she'd come back to you in one piece but her mind shattered from the day's events, where she'd search for solace in your embrace to help piece herself back together. You always regretted destroying that modicum of peace with the same probing question that came to mind.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Indignation colored the breath that escaped her flared nostrils, and she slow-blinked into the distance. You'd seen that expression enough times to know what fueled it. She left the question to linger in the air. You respected it.
She reached for your free hand. Pulled it close and kissed your knuckles one by one. Then pressed her lips against the heel of your palm. Another. Then another. And on and on until she inched higher and landed in the center of your palm. Like a meditative process, the motions calmed her, relaxed her facial muscles 'til serenity returned to take control.
"Not now," she whispered and motioned closer to fit her scarred cheek between your collar and neck. "Just wanna lay with you."
And so you did.
Silence overcame once more and for a time you lay still, only interrupted by the sporadic moan that escaped Sevika as she succumbed to sleep.
the morning after you killed yourself, the sun will rise and creep through your blinds. its rays will be in search for you, waiting to tickle you awake, but they will find your bed empty, with unmade sheets, crumpled to a pile in a hurry. the overflowing ashtray will rest abandoned on your windowsill, the wind gently licking at its contents. there will be scratches at your bedroom door, your dog whining quietly, hungrily, because his food bowl will be empty. he'll lay down in front of it, like the protector he is, waiting for you to come back. when your mother finds out that you won't, her arm will drop to her side limply, phone still in hand. she'll want to cry, but will find her eyes swept dry instead. your father, who you've never seen shedding a tear in your entire life, will smash his coffee mug into the sink where it will burst to pieces, before his walls will crumble and he'll stand in front of it, without as much as a single word, head down in defeat. a single dear will drop to the floor, leaving a stain. your little sister will trot downstairs, wiping the sleep from the corners of her eyes, dragging the worn out stuffed animal she inherited from you long ago along the floor. she'll find her parents distraught and with a quiet voice, feeling that it'd be better to not know, she'll ask what happened. the bunny will drop to the floor and she'll collapse in your mothers arms, who doesn't hold enough space for her own grief, let alone your sister's. your best friend will be on the bus when he finds out. there will be children fooling around and agitated teenage girls excitedly exchanging news on the seats in front of him. he'll want to punch all of them in the face, yelling at them to shut up. how dare they be this happy when you just stopped breathing! he'll get off at the next stop and his body will slump onto the next best bench. he'll stare at the messages he sent last night in reaction to your calls he missed because he was soundly asleep as you died. they will be left unanswered forever. he will blame himself forever.
the morning after you killed yourself, the earth will keep turning. but the world of those close to you, will shatter and never be the same ever again.
stormborns
dailybridgerton
areudirty
titsay
andulkaphoto
annaxmalina
