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elsfairy · 9 months

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E A R N E D I T - 𝐕 𝐈 𝐎 𝐋 𝐄 𝐓

Violet has always been obsessed with you. obsessed with how you present yourself respectfully, the way you’re so friendly, and your beautiful interactions with others. appreciates the amount of time you take to get ready in the mornings, even if you weren’t exactly planning to do anything besides spending the day with her. she was undeniably obsessed & in love with every single thing you did. you smiled? she’s silently swooning, pouting to herself, and thanking the gods for giving you to her at such a shitty time in her life. You laughed at one of her overused, yet somehow amusing jokes? she was falling deeper and deeper in love with you as those silent seconds passed the longer you let out that beautiful sound she so beautifully adored to hear.

she loved you, yes.

she was obsessed with you, yes.

but like something everyone dealt with in their life, there was just one thing that took up too much of her mind when you weren’t around.

your hands.

those took up too much of her time when you’re out of the house & working. she loved to feel them in her hair after she herself has worked all day, and coming home to have those delicate, nimble yet long fingers threading through her hair? girl was putty in your hands. or when they brush her lower back during any friendly interaction when you’re introducing her to your co-workers and you’re so fuckin’ oblivious to notice her pink tint blushed cheeks, and how her pupils dilate ever so slightly because you’re simply just . . . touching her?

those innocent, playful thoughts of your hands would become more dirty the longer she was left alone in your shared bedroom, with just her own thoughts. how good those fingers felt tucking strands of hair behind her ear. how you slowly trace her stomach with them after a long day. how good they feel curling inside her cunt. but no matter how many times you ask her what’s on her mind recently because she’s so quiet and Violet is never quiet. always cracking a joke here & there. trying to get you to try some weird food she picked up from the store. she can’t ever find it in herself to tell you, afraid you’ll either judge her or laugh at her.

of course, her secrets never work out in the best way possible and stay hidden forever like she always plans because not even 3 days later she’s got an even bigger problem. you’re staring up at her with those soft eyes, the same ones that hold so much love for her. one hand gripping her hip, nails digging bluntly into the flesh with such a grip and she can’t breathe because she can feel you everywhere. those kisses you left on her not even 10 minutes ago, still feel fresh against the supple skin of her neck. the spit you left all over her tits, still cold in the night. and you’re saying something but she can’t hear you because she’s too fuckin’ focused on the way your fingers rub at her sensitive clit. those doe blue eyes hypnotized with them, afraid that if she looks away, she’s going to miss what you’re doing, but it’s so hard to control her urges, and it’s then that her voice breaks more than it usually does. “can i… please? just once..?”

she doesn’t see the way your face changes from happy to confused, nor does she notice the way your lips part at her sudden question because you don’t even have enough time to register how quick she’s moving for you. one minute she’s looking at your fingers then she’s wrapping her lips around the same ones that were only just rubbing messily at her clit. her quiet, subtle whimpers slipping past her lips, as well as her spit when the wet muscle of her tongue licks your fingers slowly, the taste of her still on you.

as much as you loved obident, rule listener Vi, you did miss when she was loud, when she would quip back snarky comments about you not giving her enough or just overall teasing her until she was in tears begging for what she wanted. but right now, she was even more beautiful to you. eyes screwed shut, droplets of tears slowly forming and sliding down her cheeks. hand gripping tightly on your wrist, cheeks hallowed as she greedily lets you willingly fuck her throat with your fingers to the point she’s making even more of a mess. her blunt nails on her free hand scratching up marks on your stomach, and her hips stuttering due to your movements.

who would have thought, sweet Violet loved your fingers that much.

“good girl. yeah? taste so good don’t you, baby? keep going, you’ve earned it”

#its short i apologise #vi x reader #vi x you #vi imagine #vi smut #vi drabble #vi arcane #arcane violet #vi blurb

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ughthisisntright · 9 months

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Nsfw Silco request; drunk Silco. 🍻

oooo drunk silco.... this'll be fun.

Thumping could be heard from outside the bedroom door. You were sat in bed with a book, half-asleep but jostled awake from the sounds outside the door. Silco's bedroom door, you'd found out, was not at all sound proof.

You carefully slipped from the blankets when you heard a muffled grunt followed by a particularly heavy thud. You opened the door to Silco's bedroom slowly and saw something that you'd surely be retelling the tale about for years to come.

Silco - piss-drunk - struggling to get up off the floor of his office. His left foot crossed over his right, simply not balanced and causing him to continue tumbling over. He was grumbling something about his boots, how the soles were too slippery or whatever. You simply bit your knuckle to keep from laughing.

What seemed like an hour passed as Silco finally got his footing and stood straight. He huffs from frustration and exhaustion and shakes out his shoulders. His jacket is gone, his cravat is crooked, and his usually pale cheeks are flushed. When the floor creaked beneath you, his head whipped in your direction.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "I'm woke you!"

You snickered and walked toward him, just a few steps.

"I was awake, love," you spoke softly. "You came in like gangbusters." He shook his head at your comment, a smirk tugging at his scarred lips.

"I was quiet as a mouse," he argued. "'Cept for when I toppled over. That wasn't quiet 't all!"

You walked right up to him and straightened his cravat gently. His eyes bore into yours as you worked on him, the goofy man who once stood before you becoming the brooding, domineering Eye of Zaun you were more familiar with from this distance. His hands - albeit a little less steady than normal - came to rest on your hips to tug you closer. You glanced up at him with an innocent enough smile.

"Can I help you, darling?" Your voice came out as a purr.

"Oh, you know you can," his lips collide with yours in a sloppy kiss. No real method or reason other than connection. You could feel the desire burning within him. This always happened when he drank.

You felt soon that you were the intoxicated one. Your head swam as he pushed you back into your shared bedroom and onto your back. Within moments, the thin fabric of your panties came flying off, and his cock was pressing against your soaked cunt. His breathing was more labored from the stupor but it made him more vocal than usual.

"Oh, my love," he groaned as he pushed inside you. "I'm going to make you scream."

Your moan of approval pulled the animal out of him, a rough and unrelenting pace being set above you. His hips snapped against yours so hard, you wanted to scream in pain if it didn't feel so good. Orgasms given like candy and Silco's voice above you added to the incredible feelings, the filth dripping from his lips sinful in it's delivery.

"Such a disgusting girl. Upstairs in bed, just your underwear - fuck - and ready for me to fuck you," he growled the words. "Always ready for me to fuck you."

You cried out in pleasure as he drives into you harder. Seeing stars, having lost count of how many orgasms he's given you with his impressive drunken stamina.

Finally after what felt like ages, and your body feeling like mush, Silco buried himself inside you and came so hard, he actually screamed. The man rarely raised his voice. And he was screaming for you.

After a few moments, you giggled. He looked down at you with a concerned look.

"You should drink more often."

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cheeriecherrymain · 8 months

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papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #viktor blurb #viktor reader insert #arcane reader insert #i am slowly rising from the dead whoops

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ohcaptains · 1 year

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omg ab-riding with Sevika or Abby ????

(warnings. light choking)

ohhhh because sevika would totally make you do this. knows how much you love her chest, especially the dip of muscles that are the shape of a V at the bottom of it.

it’s not the first time she’s made you come by grinding against her, but usually it’s her thighs — never her stomach.

tonight is a night of firsts.

your head falls back, tits bouncing as you grind into her belly. you need something to do with your hands, so you fist your tits, plucking your nipple between your fingers as you gaze down at Sevika, your mouth open and eyes glazed over.

“need some help?” she teases, raising a curious brow, and she looks so calm. how does she look so god damn calm right now?

it’s all a show, though — all an act. sevika aches between her legs, her own pussy clenching as she watches you rut into her like a bitch in heat. she’s never wanted to fuck you as much as she does now — wants to push you into the mattress and pull your ass up, pressing her fingers into your cunt and making you come all wet and desperate.

but the desire to control is there, too. wants you saying please before she lets you come.

“speak to me.”

“n-no,” you sob, the word twisting into a gasp as your clit ruts against a thick scar near her belly button. “i got this.”

“you gonna make yourself come?”

“yes — yeah, sevika.”

she snarls a smile and nods to you, “say ‘l’m a big girl, i can do this.’”

when you don’t, she smacks your ass, and you gasp, quickly rushing to say, “i’m a b-big girl,” the words trailing off as electric shoots through your groin. finally, “i can do this,” you moan, and you push your palms against her collarbone, spreading your thighs and arching your back, trying to get a better angle.

sevika wants to keep you there, so she plants a palm on your hip, and the other around your throat. you lose all sense of sanity when she does that. start to roll your hips faster, drooling a moan down at your girlfriend.

“stay like that. that’s it,” she coos, gazing at your body. “stay like that pretty girl.”

at some point, you whimper, “need your fingers on my pussy,” and sevika is quick to reprimand you, “please,” she warns, squeezing your throat quickly, and your eyes flicker closed as your pussy gushes.

“please,” you moan. then, “please please please.”

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika smut #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #sevika arcane smut #sevika arcane blurb #sevika arcane x reader #blurb night april 2023 #12k blurb night

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youmaycallmeyourhighness · 4 months

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Jinx's hands curl up on instinct. Her fingers brush against her hip when she feels threatened, or surprised, or even just irritated. Ekko slides his hand in hers and she crushes it without realizing. He doesn't pull away, says he's happy she's here, happy to have her. She'll hurt him if she stays, she's not a good person. She knows very intimately that she is not, it's why she never lets go.

#little blurb inspired by that painful poem rosie had the nerve to put on my dash #I'm too much of a crybaby to make them enemies this is as close as I'll get leave me alone #arcane #timebomb #ekko #Jinx #jinx | powder

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roarriita · 7 months

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On Your Mark, Get set, Go ↠ Caitlyn Kiramman

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

- Short Blurb/Oneshot -

WC: 557

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader

Synopsis: You and Caitlyn have a make out session after she throws some guy on his ass for disrespecting you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You stared at Caitlyn in absolute admiration. The way she stood tall in the face of danger was something worth admiring. For a girl who grew up with the privilege of getting to be weak, she really did prove to be the exact opposite. With one last punch to the gut, Caitlyn flung the injured grown man to the ground. “This was all completely unnecessary and entirely avoidable. Next time a lady says excuse me, you move. It’s what a true gentleman would do.

This all happened because some jerk wouldn’t move out the way while you and Caitlyn were on the way to your place. You lived in the undercity which meant you were very used to people being disrespectful and not caring about their manners. Caitlyn on the other hand, did not take that lightly, at least not when it came to you. When the man turned around to intimidatingly stare down at you instead of simply moving, Caitlyn scoffed before pushing him away. This, of course, led to a physical fight, one that your girlfriend would emerge triumphant to.

“Nice going, babe.” You smiled as she walked back over to you.

“You think?” She asked, genuinely.

“Yeah, you beat that guy to a pulp.” You said as you reached to grab her bruised knuckles. “And as much as I appreciate you for that, I’d prefer you not to get hurt because of me.”

“Technically, it’s my job. I am an enforcer after all.” Caitlyn said.

“Shhh…” You hushed her, looking around to see if anyone heard her. If people found out what she did for a living they’d definitely have an issue with her being here. Might even try to run her out with pitchforks and torches. “First of all, be careful throwing that word around in the open like that and second of all, you’re off duty.”

“Well, how about my excuse being that I just love you. How about that?” Caitlyn smirked at you.

“Hmm, guess I can’t argue with you on that one.” You pulled her knuckles up to kiss as you stared into her soften blue eyes.

“I think I deserve a little more than that…” Caitlyn suggested.

“You’re right.” You smiled before stopping in front of her to cup her face. “My beautiful and brave girl.” You caressed her cheek with your thumb before pulling her down to place a kiss on her pretty lips. Your lips moved perfectly with hers. Your lips molding in heavenly and different ways over and over again, unintentionally starting a heavy makeout session.

Your hand sneaked its way down to her waist as you pulled her body closer to yours. “I need you so bad, (Y/N).” Caitlyn whispered up against your lips.

“Then we better hurry. We’re only 4 minutes away from my place, 3 if we run.” You smirked.

“Bet we can make it there in 2 minutes.” Caitlyn challenged you.

“Oh really?”

“I mean, with the right sort of motivation I’m sure we could do it.” Caitlyn caressed your cheek as her eyes moved from your lips to your eyes. Those (Y/C/E) eyes that she loved so much.

You chuckled, noticing how her cheeks warmed up. “On your mark,”

“Get set,” Caitlyn continued as you moved to stand beside her.

“Go.” You almost whispered before you two took off.

#caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn oneshot #caitlyn kiramman blurb #x reader #caitlyn kiramman as your girlfriend #arcane #arcane fic

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specialagentartemis · 1 month

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I increasingly think that Arcane fans would like Synners by Pat Cadigan.

It’s thoroughly different in setting and plot—it’s a cyberpunk novel set in 1991’s vision of a high-tech future Los Angeles—but has, I think, a very similar style and spirit to the story of a large cast of mostly well-meaning but clashing characters hurtling a city to its breaking point. Synners is vivid, kaleidoscopic portrait of a city and the interconnected people who live in it, on the cusp a major technological change that's going to force everyone to change in return.

It depicts the initial invention and early days of brain-sockets that allow people to jack directly into the internet. Following a swirling cast of characters, from homeless teens to entertainment tech CEOs, from the shifting participants of hacker communities to the middle-aged drudge-workers on an advertising agency salary, to aging rock musicians and dreamy-eyed artistic druggies, all the people whose lives are going to be different forever. Who are changing for the machines.

The cast of characters is large but four core perspectives anchor the book: Sam, a teen hacker, who runs more with her street friends than with her businesswoman mom, fiery with the creativity and righteous anger of a teen activist with nowhere to put it; Gabe, her father, who wanted to be an artist and never made it, and he ended up with an ex-wife who doesn't like him and a daughter who doesn't talk to him and a salaried career in advertising that he completely phones in; Gina, newly hired by Gabe's same company, who used to be a rock musician back when that was hot and anyone cared, sharp and cynical and burned-out but willing to take this leap to do something truly creative and new again even if she thinks it'll bring them all down; and Mark, her friend, creative partner, on-again-off-again lover, and pain in her ass that she still deeply cares for despite her own resentment sometimes, a visionary and a musician floating in his own world most of the time, who embraces the brain sockets so he can upload his ideas and feelings and visions to the world in wild new unfiltered ways.

Synners is organic and messy, wild and energetic, and feels fresh even when a lot of that era of cyberpunk no longer does. It can be hard to follow at first - the first 200 or so pages are an exploratory introduction to the characters and their world. And then around the halfway mark it's like Cadigan snaps her fingers and everything springs to life and oh, shit, suddenly everything's happening and storylines start colliding and it's a breathtaking brutal poetic machine of a plot she's built.

#this is sort of about #Arcane #but mostly it's an excuse to ramble about #Synners #what a good book. I wanna reread it at some point #the problem is it's out of print and its official blurb SUCKS #It is so good though #books #cyberpunk

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bahrtofane · 3 months

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My silly silly girl, Yusra. I should write her some time me thinks. this is a good intro for her tho

Asra

—--

Turbulent. Always in a feverish haze desperate to latch on to each other even if it means clawing skin raw.

What does it mean to love, to be loved ?

There's so much yearning, it never really goes away does it.

I'd like to think there are moments of brief joy before it sputters and dies out like a flame in a downpour. Can't do much to keep it a light but pray.

Julian

—---

Games. Pretending to be so grand and yet so foolish. Coy, in ways that tear down any expectation for each other.

Julian gives no mind to the hum in the back of his mind at every touch, he keeps playing. His turn has been awfully long.

There's always a rush whenever they're in each other's presence, eyes darting everywhere but where they should be.

Someone should really end the game shouldn't they.

Lucio

—--

Sharp. Pointed gaze, fixed sneer. A guilt that bubbles from somewhere far from here, and yet makes its way up the throat to coat the mouth in black, rendering speech and subsequently thought most useless.

It's not a game, never a game. The stakes are always stacked high, so so high. Aren't they tired?

Lucio thinks his shoulders have molded permanently into restless and rigid, almost by nature now.

Yusra thinks his discomfort needs to be hailed from more. So the stakes are raised again.

Nadia

—--

A waltz. Elegant, yet the smiles are strung by muscles that threaten to buckle and break.

There are so many eyes and ears and gazes and opinions floating about them. So many it begins to cloud their gaze. The palace is turning into a prison, and they must serve it.

Only in the late hours of the night does relief come. A crackle of wind pulls back the curtains, and the facade crumbles. It's all too much at times, perhaps the palace isn't meant for Yusra, a countess is not one to be in her presence as such.

Each woe is neatly placed in an iron fortress, sealed and hidden as the curtains draw open once more.

Portia

—-

Giddy. Smiles that crackle and burst like lightning. Electric, bright. The same smiles that give way to a torrent, a downpour. Emotions that are held on to nothing but mere force. Forces that tear and uproot all in their way if left to their own.

Almost blinded by the desire to recklessly charge forward. Ignoring even what they hold dear along the way.

Yusra fears the uncertainty as much as she welcomes it.

Muriel

—---

Push and pull. The pulling of timid nature out of its shell, and its pull back. Perhaps it will get cumbersome, the tether of the old game wearing out till it snaps back into the face of its holders on both ends.

Or perhaps the game will end, the rope thrown and a new constant introduced.

Muriel doesnt know all about that, he likes what is familiar. But Yusra chases what is new and unknown.

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chairwritexv · 8 months

Note

Jinx hurts the reader on accident during one of her episodes and spirals because of it

tw ❦ unintentional hitting, blood

platonic ❦ romantic ❦ neutral

fandom ❦ arcane

character(s) ❦ jinx

you knew as soon as you walked in what was happening. jinx’d told you about her “episodes” awhile ago, how she saw her old friends and how she tended to spiral. since then, you two had made up something to help snap her out of her episodes, and for the most part it worked. so as soon as you saw her mumbling something to herself on her knees while she hugged herself tightly, you knew. “jinx!” you’d immediately ran up to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “NO!” she’d shrieked, moving her arm in a way that forced her elbow against your nose, a sickening crack! echoing throughout the place. you’d fallen to the floor due to the hit, reflexively covering your nose. and that was why you were on the floor with a bloody, possibly broken nose. jinx immediately turned to you, fists up. it took a second for what she did to register, but as soon as it did her eyes went wide and she slumped out of her defensive position. “Y-Y/N-?” “jinx-” you reached out to her, but she immediately scooted back, all the bad memories rushing her. “Y-Y/N, n-no-” “jinx, honey, it’s ok-” “N-N-NO!!” she yelled, scooting farther back in fear of hurting you. she broke into tears, hiding herself from you as she sobbed. you approached her very slowly and very carefully, not wanting to upset her any more. you began to put your arm around her, but she flinched away, looking at you before letting out a choked sob and tackling you, burying her head in your chest and wrapping her arms around you in a near-death grip, mumbling mostly incoherent things with the occasional “i’m sorry” or “no.” “i-i’m sorry,” she choked out, to which you hugged her tighter. “it’s ok. it’s ok.”

hope you enjoyed! ♡

#chair writes #chair writes for arcane #arcane x reader #arcane imagines #arcane blurb #jinx x reader #jinx blurb #jinx imagines #tw blood #lol x reader #writing rq

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meadowfairiess · 2 years

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⊱ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐌? ⊰

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 (not edited)

*warnings ~ nothing but some swearing

*pairings ~ sevika x gender neutral!reader

*a/n ~ i thought this was a funny prompt so i just had to write it

while both you and sevika were filling out some paperwork for silco , you could not focus at all.

you had one question stuck in your mind.

and you being you didn’t even get a second to stop yourself before you said it.

"would you still love me if i were a worm?" you turned to look at her.

there was visible confusion on her face as she stared right back at you.

she only could reply with a "huh?"

"i-just... would you still love me if i were a worm?"

it took a minute for her to reply, she was used to your absurd and random questions but this was really something else.

"no"

and with that she went back to filling out her paperwork.

"really?!"

you were shocked. she wouldn’t love you even if you were a worm? devastating if you ask me.

"no. why the fuck would you ask that? and why a worm?"

"no reason. i just wanted to know and now i do"

you were sulking.

she turned in her chair to look at you again, turning yours to make you look at her too.

you were clearly upset.

"you aren’t a worm" sevika stated.

"i know" you shot back.

"and you never will be so stop sulking like a baby. i love you now as a human and that’s not going to change"

she gave your forehead a quick kiss before, once again , turning back to her paperwork.

now with a smile you returned to yours too.

#justicefortheworms :(

#arcane #arcane x reader #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #sevika imagine #sevika blurb #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane imagines #justice for worms

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libertastandem · 4 months

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"How selfish of me

Falling in love with you"

- Zero Kiryu, Ken Kaneki, Nicolas Brown, Kishibe, Gabimaru, Hajime Kokonoi, Ken Draken Ryuguji, Manjiro Mikey Sano, Alucard, Kou Mabuchi, Momiji Sohma, Kyo Sohma, Shinji Ikari, Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Akaza, Obanai Iguro, Giyu Tomioka, Yoriichi Tsugikuni, Yushiro, Kokichi Muta, Nanami Kento, Higuruma Hiromi, Mikhail Jirov, Vanitas, Shoji Mezo, Tamaki Amajiki, Shigaraki Tomura, Guts, Judeau, Aleksander, Simon Ghost Riley, Leon Kennedy, Cloud Strife, Vincent Valentine, Xiao, Lucy, Touka Kirishima, Orihime Inoue, Nana Ozaki, Kagome Higurashi, Misato Katsuragi, Mikasa Ackerman, Ymir, Kasumi Miwa, Ozawa Yuko, Vi, Danan, Helena Harper (+ your favorite)

#idk how to tag this #too many tags #x reader #headcanons #headcanon #imagines #bullet points #bullet point #blurb #blurbs #anime #manga #simon riley #resident evil #final fantasy #arcane #genshin #genshin impact #angst

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elsfairy · 1 year

Note

just want sevika to rub my back and play with my hair

fuck me fuck me fuck me, I need this honestly. I made this modern!sevika I hope you don't mind ♡

when you get back from a long day at work :( and you come home to find her laying on the couch, TV playing quietly in the background, and she's got her face buried in yet another novel that she's been obsessed with. doesn't notice you at first due to her world being absorbed in the world of the murder mystery book but when she does it's because you're snuffling quietly. Your eyes were red, puffy so she knew you were stressed and tired.

"Sweetness? Are you alright?"

She literally doesn't have to say anything else, her book is now thrown onto the floor or coffee table when she opens her arms wide for you. When it came to affection, you never hesitated to practically jump into her arms. One of her hands would instantly be in your hair, scratching your scalp lightly, or smoothing down your locks and mechanical one rubbing your back, lightly and in slow circles. "Talk to me. Tell me what's up"

And she'll listen to you. She'll listen to the worries you've had, the stress you've dealt with today, the soreness in your body and the overall tiredness you're feeling. Somewhere between conversation shifts, her hand will make its way under your shirt, the cold metal of her fingers drawing random patterns on your back, light scratches on your skin. easing you, comforting you. She'll listen to you until you're falling asleep, face tucked in the crook of her neck, your warm breathing tickling her skin.

The movements of her hand on your back, and the hand in your hair won't stop, she'll continue as long as she can until she falls asleep herself. If you mumble tiredly, she'll nudge her head into yours, whispering. "Shh, it's okay Sweetheart. Go to sleep, I'm here"

You're a sucker for having your hair played with, but she's also a sucker for it because she loves doing it.

#anon #ask #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika imagine #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #modern!sevika #sevika blurb

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ughthisisntright · 7 months

Note

Hello There ! 👋😊

May I ask you a humble request ? 🙏

NSFW Silco seducing and fucking Finn's girlfriend please 🙈

YES. THIS. THIIIIIIS. I made reader gender neutral - I was on autopilot and wrote it like that!

NSFW below the cut!

You felt the watchful gaze of Silco as Finn berates you in front of the entire society of chembarons. You had little to do with the operation, with the cause, but Finn still loved to assert his power over you. Something he'd been doing since the very beginning. You loved him. sure, but there was something eating away at you that made you want to... rebel.

As the man huffed away to join the rest of the chembarons, you were left with an uneasy feeling in your gut. The way he made you feel - small, unimportant, a burden - it was not an easy pill to swallow that your boyfriend was as cruel as he was. It seemed that being part of a covert operation to bring forth the greater good was not something he was suited for. And it angered you.

And still as you ruminated over the horrible display of toxic masculinity, that feeling of Silco's eyes on you burned your skin. You turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze. He wasn't even listening to the meeting. He didn't care what Finn had to say. He would never care again.

When the meeting concluded, and Finn tossed his coat at you before leaving, you sank into an empty chair. The room was empty, the rest of the more important people going to finalize plans for another shimmer plant, and all that was left was you and this stupid fucking coat. You gripped it in your smaller hands, wishing beyond anything that you would be able to tear it into pieces and cast it into the River Pilt.

You screamed in agony before slamming the coat onto the table. It felt good, but not good enough. And before you could even allow yourself the joy of letting some of that go, you heard clapping behind you.

Turning, you laid eyes on Silco. So the room wasn't empty. He stalked toward you with a smirk on his face. The older man always carried himself with such bravado, such confidence, not unlike Finn. But there was a key difference between the two: Experience.

Silco was successful long before the chembarons came together. Independently achieving goals left and right before any of them had even had the chance to taste Topside. Long before Finn was even born.

And here he was, stalking toward you like it was nothing. You watched him come closer, clasping his hands behind his back, and looking you over.

"Quite impressive the way you stand your ground in the face of something like that. Are you quite alright?" His low voice reverberated off the walls of the room, as large as it was, and you could feel it in your bones.

"Well," you began, trying to find your words. "I'm fine, but... That's him I guess."

"Regardless, it was quite the sight to see. I don't exactly know what the cause was for that kind of reaction, but it seems if I know Finn enough, it was likely his fault." A smirk lifted his features as he gave what you assumed to be his version of comfort. A smirk to which you responded with a small smile of your own.

"That's very kind of you to say," you admit softly.

And that was how you found yourself bent over the table - on top of Finn's elaborate coat - in the meeting room. The same meeting room where Finn had berated you earlier, the same meeting room where the meeting between the society of chembarons had taken place, and the same place where Silco - of all people - had given you comfort.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. You didn't exactly expect him to be as large as he was, but you also thought you'd seen all you'd ever get with Finn. And now, with his hands around your waist and his hips against the swell of your ass, you were sure that this wouldn't be the last time this kind of meeting would occur between the two of you.

Heavy breathing and grunts behind gritted teeth sounded out from behind you as harsh snaps of hips shook your entire being. You could feel the hard edge of the wood digging into your flesh as you were pounded into the surface of the table like a thing to be used. And you were loving every second of it.

At the height of your ecstasy, when Silco was growling the filthiest things in your ear, you heard the sound of the heavy door being opened. Your eyes opened and you caught sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway.

Ex-boyfriend, that is. It's a fair trade-off for this kind of lust.

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