#arcane silco x y/n

[vinciwolf]

Art Appreciation

Arcane Silco x fem!Reader

Synopsis: this is a continuation of this post from @astudyincontrasts​

Warnings: Explicit, nsfw, mishandling of paint, MDNI

Word Count: 1,863

A/N: I highly recommend checking out "Blasphemia" by Eliran Kantor (their Instagram). Don’t forget to reblog! 

Today you wore a skirt and simple blouse under a heavy coat to mask your Piltover status as you rode the shaky elevator into the bowels of the Undercity.

Your nostrils flared to calm the racing wallop against your ribcage when you thought of your client’s recent letter for your presence.

It wasn’t intended to be this way at all, not that you were complaining. You indifferently suggested to attend a viewing of an old painting that had built a reputation for its audacious nudity, or so you had heard, but never in your wildest thoughts did you believe The Eye to be interesting in acrylic erotica after he had made it very clear that he preferred more physical interactions instead.

Remembrance of the desecrated bathroom counter made your legs wane and tongue lap forward along the dryness of your lip before the ding from the elevator signaled the doors to slide open into a neon lit world.

.

.

. 

Walking up the lavish staircase to the pillared museum entrance felt like a marathon runner beating inside your chest, not from the exercise, but from the way Silco, again, never let his hand falter away from the small of your back, as if to lead you like he did the other time you both were here.

When inside however, his demeanor changed to a more collective stance, hands swinging behind his coattail in his regular poised manner – leaving you to mentally pout at the absence of his palm along your lower spine. 

Everything he did had purpose, and today he wasn’t going to give you an inch until he decided when. Suddenly, your coat felt too tight so you removed it for some oxygen and gave it to the coat attendant at the entranceway.

As you approached closer to the area that housed the painting of interest, both sets of footsteps stopped when you saw a sign that stated:

Viewing closed for the evening. Gallery under maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience.

You tsked and rolled your eyes as you looked around annoyed before your neck turned back to Silco standing a little too close to the tape blocking off the section under care.

“Well?” Silco inquired with a straight look, an eyebrow raised, and the edge of his mouth pointing up just a bit at his subtle request to misbehave.

A single index finger lifted the tape, giving you the quick decision – looking around briefly – to bend over and sneak under it, your client also slipping past the cautionary tape behind you.

Passing by rows of artwork littering the vast hallways, you finally found the room with the erotic painting.

On entering the spacious gallery, there were multiple buckets of paint and tarps that lined the floor. Carefully maneuvering past the mess and the ladders where the walls would be made anew with a fresh coat of paint, some of the walls already finished, you and Silco approached the canvas of both your curiosity.

It was a small painting, maybe no larger than a twelve-by-twelve canvas, but the subject matter helped gravitate the eye and amplify the piece across the room.

Your eyes widened; heart galloped.

The woman was leaned over a table, her head craning backwards over the edge, hair drooping and tangled, while her jaw was slack and eyebrows stitched together. Her expression was a mix of pain and pleasure and one could only imagine the noises she cried from that open mouth. The source of her pleasure had your blood flushing to your groin, making your throat bob from how the painting left you desiring the same pain this woman was experiencing.

A man’s torso could be seen, but his head was cut off at the edge of the canvas. His waist spread the woman’s thighs apart. Despite the fact that his groin could not be seen, any viewer concluded what he was ploughing into this woman, beckoning such an expression from her.

An ache pulsated between your legs when your mind drifted into a filthy flashback of you hunched over and stuffed full over a bathroom sink.

The aftermath dripped onto your skirt while eating your meal across from the man who left you to soak in the mess he made of you, leaving a trail on your belongings you had to scrub out the next morning before it stained.

Your world tilted from the flush in your cheeks.

Walking to calm your beating pulse, you tried to brush the skin of your thighs together to ease the pool of moisture that had gathered along your slit.

Then a wave of shock hooked you by surprise when a hard tug of your elbow pulled you face-to-face with the man responsible for your mess below.

“Having to walk away?” Silco’s cool voice breathed against your cheek then next to the rim of your ear, sending another buzz through your nerves.

Your throat hitched from the deathly close proximity, flaring the heat already overtaking your limbs just as your knees didn’t feel like working.

Then it finally clicked together why Silco drew away this evening. He was collecting data, observant as ever, desiring to witness your undiluted reaction for his own curious amusement. Now he had what he needed.

“It’s what makes this painting so infamous. For some viewers to have an… adverse reaction to such a lude sight of a woman being fucked senseless,” he puffed directly along your neck, “Oh, I did my research, lovely. Now I know why you wanted to inspect this one out,” and smiled when you desperately clung to his shoulders for support from the unbearable spike of arousal being driven deeper into your body.

“Do you want me to take you again,” he teased his breath on the length of your throat this time.

“Do you want me to have you crying like that whore in the canvas?”

A bated whimper ghosted Silco’s hair, hands shaking from the tight grip on his coat, as you bore the fatigue of your edgy limbs anticipating his next indulgence on your body.

His eyes locked with yours when he moved a hair’s length away from the apple of your cheek before tilting his chin, lips brushing, your breath hitched, and palmed the nape of your neck.

Your whole body buckled when his mouth crashed into yours, foot taking a step back, all the while your skin hummed with electricity about to combust into a thousand nuclear explosions.

The pace of the kiss was rough and breathless. Tongues swirled exchanging saliva, his lapping the inside of your cheek and swallowing your moans with every consumption of your mouth.

A hand glided to the side of your hip and had you pacing backwards until you collided with the museum wall. You were too occupied to notice the sticky substance pinning your shirt to its barrier as white paint coated your backside.

Releasing your mouth with a pop and navigating himself, nose dragging along your skin, to claim a piece of your neck, you braced the wall with a hand, the other clutching raven locks, when long fingers split through your nether lips and harshly indented your pulsating nub making you churn and pant from the fireworks cramping your inner thighs.

Fingers scratched the wall having you gasp audibly when you could feel liquid sticking to the tips and your palm. Peeling your hand away and examining the white now pressed into the print of your palm, you tapped Silco’ head and called his name to get his attention.

He peered up, hair disheveled, face looking so sexy from his lust-filled haze, as you showed him the mess on your hand.

“The wall its—”

“If that is of more concern then we can leave now to wash up,” he chided flatly then leaned into the lobe of your ear and growled, “or I can fuck you against this wall and make a mess so the workers tomorrow know a slut ruined their hard work.”

Coat was shed and thudded on the ground while legs spread apart with the hoist of your body onto a lean waist. Your skirt was lifted by large fingers above your belly as you undid the buttons to Silco’s silk shirt. It parted open for you to explore the expanse of his bare chest, eyes wandering to the now split trousers below revealing trimmed bush encircling a hard cock resting on the visible skin of your stomach.

Your hole clenched in excitement when you realized you could relive the fullness you felt the day of the bathroom incident.

Silco took his cock in hand, pulling hips away from yours momentary, and gradually, your mind going faint, fed the length inside until it disappeared completely into your cunt.

The white mess on your palm splatter across the clothed space between Silco’s shoulder blades when he thrusted hard once which knocked the hasty breath from your lungs. Then he began a merciless pace up into you that had you crying desperately at the ceiling.

The paint on the wall smeared your clothes clinging to the wet barrier as your body was being shoved up and down wickedly fast, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ panting down the curve of your shoulder which made you spin even more, hole clinging tight to the penetration below.

Then, to stay true to the canvass, Silco shoved you onto the tarped ground now scrunching under your weight, crashing a bucket forward and causing a splash of white to leak across the unprotected marble floor.

His haunches were used to lift your rear off the tarp and get a better handle on your hips, fingers indenting the soft flesh as he railed your cunt, having your breasts bounce inside your bra from the brute force of being hammered just like the woman mutely echoing your cries on the wall.

You tipped your head back, hands loosely on the ground, as echoes of your keening flooded the gallery in time with every thrust against your bottom, legs swaying.

Every grunt-filled plow of his cock had you wailing. Silco got his wish to see you disheveled underneath him and you got your wish to be spread like a whore, walls painted filthily with the thick brush of the cruel artist that wielded it inside you.

You pinched yourself around Silco harder as the fire snapped in your lower half.

Silco’s curled forward and stood on his knees, pinching your body, penetration sputtered as he vocally released himself in thick ropes. Vision blurred, your mouth dropping open in a wide oval with one last tapered moan, as your cunt was filled up.

Relaxing back down onto his calves, the man above you stretched his neck up to the ceiling and huffed down his fill of well needed air.

His shirt was drenched at the armpits and collar while his rolling stomach glistened with a sheen of sweat, a few drops crawling down the space of his chest. Then he peered down and took in the blissfully disgraced sight laid below, cock still shoved inside pussy.

“Was that what you imagined in the painting?” he exhaled.

You were too spent, so a brief nod would have to do.

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco x fem #silco x female reader #arcane silco x reader #arcane silco x you #arcane silco x y/n #arcane silco x fem reader #arcane silco x female reader #arcane silco #silco arcane #arcane fanfics #arcane fanfiction #silco fanfiction #silco fanfic #my writing

[astudyincontrasts]

Penance IX (redux)

Priest!Silco x Fem!Reader AU (nsfw)

A/N: Its my birthday! Last year everyone in this fandom and all the friends I have made because of it made today one of the most special birthdays I have had in a long time. I felt more loved and surrounded in celebration with sweet friends then I had in years, and the cup of that happiness has not stopped running over. There are not enough ways to express my love and gratitude for everyone I've had the joy of meeting here.

So this year, I wanted to offer a gift to all of you. Everyone has been exceedingly patient about my writing struggles to continue Penance, so I'd like to give you the alternate Penance XI chapter- blood I have managed to wring from that stone of writers block. The fate of the continuation of this story may still be up in the air until inspiration comes knocking again, but at least I can share this with you today.

To all my fandom friends, and everyone who has been so supportive of this silly little smutty story. You have my heart.

This picks up after Chapter VIII

“Girl, are you listening?”

Sister Marta’s sharply scolding voice brought you back down to earth with a little jerk, blinking as you turned attention back to the tall, thin, sallow faced nun to meet the exasperated gaze of her cataract-hazed grey eyes.

“Sorry Sister.”  You mumbled, casting about for a context clue of whatever it was she might have been speaking about while you’d been off daydreaming about the priest of her parish.  Nothing jumped out at you in the dusty old store room of the basement where you both stood in the dim light of one naked and straining lightbulb still swinging gently upon its cord from the nun’s yank of its chain a moment before.

You hadn’t meant to drift off, but it had been four days since you’d seen Father Silco last and that painful, sweet contrition you’d done across the desk of his office was still fresh in your mind as if it had just happened.  You ought to have been angry at the fact he’d left you such an unsatisfied mess, and the fact he’d spanked you like a wicked child, in spite of his promise he’d never hurt you as they had back in school.

Truly, he had not.  Those sharp little slaps of his open hand were nothing compared to the cruelty of a sharp ruler across knuckles or the backs of thighs delivered by an angry, bitter nun.  You smiled faintly at Sister Marta’s increasingly irritated, withered old face and privately thought perhaps she could teach the Father a few things about corporal punishment.

“The candles, girl!”  Sister Marta exhorted at last, the thin limit of her patience snapping.

Unlike the ‘my child’ diminutive that the other nuns like Sister Eleanor or Sister Angelica were so fond of using with you and other parishioners, Sister Marta had no use for any such hollow faithful endearments.  You hadn’t yet made up your mind if it was an honest gruffness about her you liked, or an insulting mein you did not.  You had the notion it would have hardly mattered to the old woman either way.

She nudged one of the pair of low boxes with the toe of her sensible black shoe from under her long, dark habit.

“Take them to the Father to be blessed and then kindly refill the votive stands.  You can remove the spent ones and toss them.”  She explained, slower this time as if she was speaking to a simpleton.

You bore it with a tight little smile and bent to lift the box on top, surprised by the weight of it, staggering a bit upon rising only to catch a smugly satisfied look on the wrinkled old pucker of a face before Sister Marta reached up to pull the chain of the light and leave you to struggle out the door of the closet and back up the rickety old stairs of the basement in the dark, save for the light from the open door at the top of the steps.

Quietly you wondered if you accidentally fell and broke your neck, if the church would have their endowment free of the burden of your presence that came with it.

Cold comfort, knowing you’d crush the brittle bird-boned old woman climbing up, wheezing softly behind you, and take her with you if you did pitch backward down the steps.

The real trial wasn’t making it to the top of the stairs with the heavy box full of candles, though.  No, that one still lay ahead once you’d reached the top without incident.  The real trial lay in taking that armload into the rectory to face Father Silco once more and ask his blessing.

You’d thought you’d be safe if you came on a Thursday.  You’d avoided the parish planning committee on Monday, as well as your usual Wednesday session with the Father.  You’d hardly doubted you’d be missed at the planning meeting, and Wednesday, well.  You’d chosen to skip it half in a little act of spite, half just to see what might happen.  When no scolding phone call or visit had been forthcoming after shirking both of those commitments the victory felt hollow.  

Turning up to make yourself useful to the nuns on Thursday seemed like a good way to cover for your failed gambit and to keep from looking as if you were avoiding the church.  Foolishly, you’d thought perhaps you’d manage to skim by with just catching a glimpse of Father Silco in passing.  

Unsure if it was because you wanted to see him, or wanted him to see you.

You’d been on rocky footing ever since your little transgression in the confessional, and you knew it.  

The door to the rectory lay open just across from the basement door in the open nave of the large narthex, and you waited until Sister Marta crested the steps behind you and shut the basement door to hobble off heavily upon her cane, before you started the slow walk toward his office.  You didn’t let yourself hesitate in the doorway, and didn’t have a free hand to knock on the open door with anyway.  Instead, summoning all the calm composure you could muster, you simply walked in and paused before his desk.

He sat there, scribbling away in an open book, papers and letters and other books opened in a slightly scattered mess about his work, dark head bent and eyepatch on.  He left you standing there until he’d finished what he was writing. Until your elbows and wrists had begun to ache a little from the weight of the box you held.  Only then he sat back, letting his pen drop upon the desk as elbows found the armrests of his tall-backed chair and he turned the cool glint of that duplicitously calm ocean colored eye upward.

The thin, scarred cut of his mouth tugged a hint of a smile at one corner.

“Lamb.”  He stated mildly, as if unsurprised in the least to see you there and only half interested as to what you might want with him.

Infuriating, how badly you liked hearing that little endearment again.  How flustered it made you feel to get hooked on the edge of that smile.

The box shifted heavily in your hands as you juggled its weight and stepped forward to set it upon his desk.  Damn his paperwork.  

“Sister Marta asked if you’d bless these candles so I could put them in the votive holders.”  Your attempt to keep your voice as even and disaffected as possible only resulted in it coming out far softer than you’d meant for it to be.

Leaning forward a touch, Silco flipped one of the flaps of the cardboard lid back to glance at the candles inside with a little hum.  One by one he folded each of the other three flaps back and rose to his feet.  Elegant fingers stroked absently along the edge of one packaging dividers hashed between the votives within before he plucked a single candle out and set it aside.

Letting that cool eye of his drift shut he made the sign of the cross over the open box of remaining candles before opening both hands before himself, palms cupped upward.

“Lord Jesus Christ, true light that enlightens every man who comes into this world, bestow thy blessing upon these candles, and sanctify them with the light of thy grace. As these tapers burn with visible fire and dispel the darkness of night, so may our hearts with the help of thy grace be enlightened by the invisible fire of the splendor of the Holy Ghost, and may be free from all blindness of sin.”  

His eye opened and fell upon you, and suddenly you were profoundly aware of how you just stood there, staring at the tall, lean lines of him in that dark cassock, soaking in the sound of his voice and very obviously not with your hands folded in reverent prayer or eyes downcast as they ought to have been. Something entirely ungodly flickered at the edge of Father Silco’s mouth as he continued on, holding your immobilized gaze. 

“Clarify the eyes of our minds that we may see what is pleasing to thee and conducive to our salvation. After the dark perils of this life let us be worthy to reach the eternal light.”  His eye closed once more and again he made the sign of the cross over the box as he finished, “Through thee, Jesus Christ, Savior of the world, who in perfect Trinity livest and reignest, God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

His hands lowered, one coming to settle over the glass edge of the candle he’d set to one side, and he considered you as you crossed yourself hastily and reached forward to gather the box back up again.  He stopped you lifting it with a touch of the fingertips to its lid.

“When you are through with these, perhaps you’d come back here?”  Couched so carefully as a question, yet all you could hear was the quiet order in it.  Come back here.  Your head was nodding before he even finished speaking and the thin, dark brow not covered by his eyepatch quirked slightly.

“Yes, Father.” Your correction of yourself came nearly automatically.

Another little humming assent and with a slow blink he removed the touch that had stopped you lifting the box, resuming his seat.  You hoped he’d resume his work as well, but instead he sat there, watching you go, fingertips drumming thoughtfully upon the little glass votive.

You took your time with the candles, mostly because your hands were shaking and the very last thing you wanted to do was drop one of the blessed things and have it shatter across the church floor.  But also, to give you time to scrape yourself together, collect calm and poise.  It was no good, heart hammering anticipation equal parts nervousness and excitement.  The part of yourself that had wanted so badly to keep up this little charade of wishing to avoid him had succumbed without so much as a whimper.

Again thoughts drifted back to Sunday.  To the stinging warmth of skin under his hand, to how he’d teased you to a sodden mess without once slipping fingers beneath the barrier of cotton that had separated you.  To how he’d left you wanting and writhing and nearly in tears.  A perfect act of contrition, indeed.

It was a struggle not to let yourself wonder what next punishment he could possibly have in store for you.

Spent votives replaced with fresh ones, and the box filled with the clatter of the empty candleholders, you made your way back to his office.  Dropping the detritus of other people’s prayers off in the dumpster out back could wait.  You had your own worship to attend to.  

Father Silco’s desk was far less littered with papers when you returned, open books stacked neatly to one side now and everything else put away save for the book he was still writing in.  And that little candle he’d taken.  His dark head didn’t even lift as you set the softly clattering box down upon the settee against the wall.

“Office hours are over.”  He intoned flatly as you wiped palms nervously over the skirt of the dress covering your thighs.  

It froze you, cold like ice water suddenly filling the pit of your belly.  Had he just dismissed you after ordering you to return?  

“...Father?”  It came out a strangled little question and you almost hated how needy the note of your voice made that singular word.

He glanced up and you realized with a start that he’d removed that eyepatch, the hellish orange-red fire of his darkened eye a constant little shock every single time.  Ruined eye and teal flicked from you to the door and back again as if in blatant explanation.

“Lock the door.”  He elaborated.

It should not have been a matter of pride that you managed to turn and do his bidding without falling all over yourself or scrambling in an embarrassing rush of eagerness, and yet.  Far more collected than you felt within, you managed to push the door shut soundlessly and throw the latch, pausing for a moment with your back to him, safely sheltered in the little alcove of the doorway, to breathe through the easing of that sudden cold panic that had surfaced at your earlier misunderstanding.

When you returned to him he’d shut his notebook and set it aside atop the others, and reached to slide that pilfered votive candle before himself as he watched you sidle up to his desk.  Watched you stop, smooth the skirt of your dress only to fist it again in fitful hands, watched the tight little press of thighs as he drew out the silence.

“Do you know what these are called?”  He asked, nudging the little candle forward with the press of one elegant fingertip before rising from his seat.

“Devotionaries.”  You answered, and watched him cross to the wall to the right of you, to a tall coat stand that stood near the door to his quarters.  

“Very good.”  

A child could have answered that question, but it did not stop the little smile of pleasure that tugged at the corners of your mouth.  His praise as euphoric as a drug and twice as addictive, even for the smallest of successes.

Your mouth went dry however, as he turned profile to you, tugged a button or two open upon the throat of his cassock, and then turned his back to undo the rest before shrugging out of the long, dark cloth to hang it upon the coat stand.  The black fabric fell in a long and shapeless mass without him, hem puddling ever so slightly on the floor.  

It put you in mind of Peter Pan hanging up his shadow, or it would have done, had you not been so preoccupied with the shape of him divested of the dark habit.  Of that petulant posture and taut lovely lines, proud set of shoulders and careless, dangerous beauty in how he moved.  It was patently unfair that a man sporting licks of sliver at his temples and etched crows feet at the outset edges of his eye should have the lithe shape of youth the way he did.  

Devoid of the cassock, he was left instead in the black roman-collared linen shirt and dark, sharply pleated trousers he wore beneath. 

He turned back to you and came wandering back toward the desk, unbuttoning the cuffs at his wrists.

“Do you have a lighter?”  The question was so casual it caught you off guard and you had to shake your head, tugging at the pocketless skirt of your dress on either side of thighs by way of explanation.  

His mouth twisted the merest fraction of a smile as he tucked the cuff of one of his sleeves back, began rolling it neatly toward his elbow.  Lean hips turned a fraction as he stepped closer.

“Left pocket.”  He instructed, helpfully.

Hesitation grasped you but a moment before you inched forward, stepped into his space and paused.  Glancing upward, you found his attention fixed upon meticulously still folding his sleeves back, crisp turn by turn.  The focus of those mismatched eyes not even flickering to you, to how every fine hair upon your bare arms stood on end like they were aching toward him, toward that magnetic draw of snapping static thrumming in the air between you both.

Easing half behind him, you reached for the little gap of the pocket and slowly slid fingers into the warmth of its silken confines.  Over the bone of his hip and down, wrist deep until you hit the bottom of the pocket and touched the smooth, rectangular shape of the lighter within.  Metal heated to body temperature from where it nestled.  

Fingers curled around it before you stopped.  Let it go, and moved just a little closer, pressed fingers flat to that join between hip and thigh his pocket lay against.  Pushed the delve of that pocket just a little deeper and felt his stomach tense beneath your fingertips as your cheek brushed the outside of his upper arm.

“The lighter, lamb.  If you please.”  His tone was darkly amused at least, though if you kept pushing your luck it would be at your own cost.  That much was clear.

You scooped up the lighter once more, but withdrew your hand slow, knuckles grazing softly along the cut of muscle you could feel running from his hip inward and down.  Air felt unwelcomely cold against your skin once you pulled your hand free, and before you could step back, he moved away for you.  Walked away to resume his seat behind the desk as he finished doing up his other cuff to just below his right elbow.

A small push of his foot made space between the seat and the desk, and you only needed the flick of his eyes from you to the room he’d made to set you in motion to come and stand before him, his lighter clenched tight in your closed fist, unwilling to relinquish the little bit of his heat you held in your palm.

Gazing up at you, his attention licked over the details of your dress, your posture, your hesitant composure, as he tugged at the give of trousers a little at the bend of thigh and hip and settled himself more comfortably.

“You weren’t here yesterday.”  He observed as he relaxed back against the tall chair, a flicker of a blink over that oceanic eye.  You held your tongue and his gaze fell to the candle upon the desk just beside where you stood, and you wondered if your absence had made him angry, filled him with regret, or perhaps just left him lonesome.  You wished there was a way to tell, any little crack in that stoic mask of scarred features and sharpness to let the truth of what he was thinking seep out.  Nothing there though but that calculating, penetrating gaze and a subtle shrug of broad, lean shoulders,  “I suppose we might make up for lost time, then.  Contrition may be an important facet of faith, but so is devotion.”

He reached forward to scoop into fingers the loose end of the bow that tied the wrap of your dress shut beside your waist.  His good eye narrowed, the fine lines of crowsfoot deepening.  He’d seen that dress before, yes– the same one you’d worn to catch him by surprise in the confessional.  

You allowed yourself the most innocent little smile you could manage when those mismatched eyes flicked sharply to your face, and willed breath to stay even, slow, no matter how skin had begun to sing his name in soft coursing waves of prickling goosebumps.

“I don’t suppose you have your rosary?”  He asked archly, letting the ribbon of the bow drop from his open hand as he sat back once more.

He’d every right to ask it of you so dryly, given your lack of pockets.  And you had every right to feel as smug as you did when you lifted a hand, reached into the low, criss-crossed neckline of your dress and drew out the strand of little purple beads from the nestle of your bra.  

The war between shock, dark delight, the struggle to keep his poker face, and perhaps even a hint of righteous outrage that overtook the sharply handsome ruin of his features was nothing short of spectacular.  You’d replay it, over and over again at night.  Reveling in how well you toppled the high and mighty cold ivory pillar he so often perched upon.

Out and out you drew the beads until the little cross popped free and the rosary hung, swinging, upon your forefinger.

His hand, resting upon his knee, tightened, fingers twitching slightly, before it stilled, then lifted, palm open in demand.

You dropped that little holy object into his hand and watched his fist close around it, knowing full well he now held a little piece of your heat as surely as you held his within your other hand.  There was a slight softening to the creases where thin brows met over that sharp nose that told you he felt it, too.

“Good girl.”  He murmured, and the flush that crept up to warm your ears was nearly as delicious as the thrill that both chased up your spine and tugged at the backs of your knees to fold, to kneel.  You rested the heel of your palm upon the desk behind you and let it take your weight so that you did not cave.

By the time he turned his face back up to you he’d mastered his expression once more, beatific calm singed at its hard edges.

“Turn around,”  He instructed, making the simple order sound heavy, dangerous.  Bringing thighs together from their slight sprawl, he patted the top of one, “Have a seat.”

Heart thudded hard in your ears as you did as you were bade, turning to sink onto his lap carefully, perched upon his knees.  He sucked chipped teeth softly at it.

“Have a seat,”  That grit velvet voice scolded gently from behind you as both his hands curled about your waist and urged you backward, until you sat comfortably fully upon him, back fitted to his front.  

A hand upon your hip skimmed over stomach and waist, back to the bow of your dress.

“Why do we say devotions?”  He asked, and you could feel the question purring through his chest against your back as he claimed the thick ribbon of the bow and tugged.  The knot gave with no resistance, and the part of it he held served nicely to pull the cross of your dress open, just enough to part the skirt of it and leave you bare from stomach to thighs.  

The shudder that overtook you was sweet and slow, wringing from core to limbs, leaving a little shivering tingle rising over scalp and curling toes, that familiar little throbbing ache back with a hot and hungry vengeance.  Hips shifted in your seat as his fingertips ghosted skin to part fabric and push it aside, leaving your lower half bare save for the dark, smooth satin of underwear in the same shade of inky black as his habit.

“To remember the dead?”  You chanced, feeling halfway there yourself, pulse racing erratically.

“Sometimes,” He agreed, and you swore you felt the whisper of scarred lips at your neck.  Certainly felt the wash of warm breath plume over skin, “More generally devotions are an act of prayer or private worship.  Remembrance is one act, as are service, reflection, beseeching, prostration… your rosary, for example, is considered a devotion.”

His hands slid along your arms, touch warm, bringing your hands together to press in prayer before he began to wind the beaded strings around your wrists again to bind them together.

“I thought that was a penance.”  You exhaled in a shuddering little rasp.

“It can be, but not today.”  The tip of his sharp nose drew a long, slow line against the rise of your spine, above the neckline of your dress between shoulder blades and to the base of your skull, “although that can be a devotion too.”

The heel of his foot caught the floor and pulled the seat with you both in it forward towards his desk, so that he could reach around you and lift the candle from where it sat before pushing you both back again.  He held the votive before you.

“Light it,” he asked, free arm curling about you, fingers trailing the soft of your stomach from navel on down, “I owe you a devotion, lamb.”

Fingers bound in prayer fumbled with the thick golden rectangle of the lighter as you struggled not to simply sink back against him with a little shiver and beg that he stroke that little path across vulnerable skin once more.  A flick of your thumb sent the hinged lid open and the circular little flint struck on the second attempt, hot flame bursting to life.  Silco turned the candle so that you could light it and then pulled it away as you flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back between folded hands.

“Do you know the devotional prayer?” He asked, hand holding the candle coming to settle upon an armrest as his lap shifted beneath you, lean legs pressing together beneath your own and lifting before spreading wide, the hook of his knees beneath your thighs opening them in an indecent slow splay.  

It set you writhing; the kissing chill of the air of the room contrasting sharply with the heat of him beneath you, so very bare, bound in his lap, spread open like an invitation.  The door was locked, yes, you’d made sure of it but what if you were wrong?  What if someone had a key?  There’d be no explanation for the position you found yourself in, no way to hide.

The thrill of that little licking fear warred with the light caress of his free hand as it curled over the top of one thigh and smoothed toward your knee, only to hook it better in its drape over his own before it began the slow teasing, lazy circles that drew it back toward the little throbbing want hidden beneath the black satin gusset of thin panties.

“Bare legs.”  He murmured, and you gave another little squirm, folded hands pressing together tighter.  You’d not worn what you were coming to suspect was his favorite item of your clothing because you’d not expected to see him, and also to spite him if you did.  The move seemed to have backfired spectacularly.  When you had no excuse or answer, Father Silco simply carried on, a note of pleased amusement in his tone, “The prayer?”

“N-no.  That is, no I don’t know it.”

“Hmn.”  His little hum of disapproval at the gaps still existing in your liturgical knowledge colored your cheeks, and you could only hope that from his position he could not see the frustration that joined the embarrassment upon your face.  

You watched him lift the candle slowly from where he’d held it at your side, bring it to hover over your open lap.  His hand upon your thigh stilled its toying little strokes and instead closed in a taut grip of your leg, soft skin denting tenderly beneath his fingers.

“That’s alright,” he reassured you quietly, and you could hear the dark little smile in it, “This is my devotion anyhow.”

The flickering little candle he held hovering before you began to tilt, turn, and the inward gasp of breath caught in your throat as the clear melted wax welled at the lip of the red glass before spilling over, heat spattering in a little drip against the sensitive skin of your knee.  

He paused, and you could feel him shift under your restless hips, feel the little roll of his own and the way his breath strained ever so slightly for just a moment.

“Does that hurt?”  Low and velvet that voice mumbled up against the skin behind the fold of your ear and again he tipped a little burning drop of wax onto waiting skin.  

Your knee jumped the barest fraction, reflexive little jerk at the soft scalding that faded quickly into gentle warmth, and you nodded, folded hands pressing the knuckles of forefingers tight to your lips.

“A little.”  You breathed, raggedly.

“Enough to stop?”  He pressed, and the soft moan of a sigh that broke from you when the warmth of his mouth touched to the hard thrum of your pulse answered well enough for you before your shattered little ‘no’ eked out.

His fingers had strayed far up the leg they’d been casually toying across, toward the heat that he had to feel absolutely radiating from the apex of thighs.  One long forefinger drew a tracing line around the triangle of slippery black satin, up both edges and across your lower stomach slowly.

Air seized in your throat as his fingertips plucked at the smooth waistband.

“Lord, may this candle which I light illuminate all my difficulties and decisions.”  Silco began, waiting to feel the tension stringing through you begin to ease before he spilled another dollop of wax, and then a second and third a bit further up each time.  The soft sting of it had you writhing, the little shock of burning heat fading to a warm tickle as the wax rolled down in heavy drips, cooling against your skin.

Behind you, Silco’s breath caught in a little huff once more, a soft whistle between clenched chipped teeth on the inhale.

“May this candle be a fire,”  He continued after a beat, spreading the warm little shocks and sudden pinching stings to the tender inner thigh of your other leg, “that burns away all my pride, selfishness…” 

Writhing and shifting, you struggled in his lap, not wanting to escape yet fighting the way every fibre of you recoiled from the spattering searing sting of the wax in a reflexive, uncontrollable urge.  Several of these squirming jerks of your hips and the hand teasing at the edge of your panties caught suddenly in a taut cup between your legs as you felt Silco’s own hips give a hard little shove upward.  

Stilling breathlessly, he kept you waiting a long moment while he seemed to struggle to master himself, the fingers cupping you picking up an almost absent little up and down stroke over the satin covering the shape of your sex, unerringly finding the cleft between lips.  

Cooling wax flexed and tugged at skin as you tried to spread a bit further for him, to press into his touch, scared if you were to beg for more with words that it might stop the tease entirely, as it had the last time he’d had his hand between your thighs.  God, how he’d tormented you, brought you so terribly close… Hips rolled hard and slow against him in retaliation as you relived your humiliation.

As if reading your mind, his touch skimmed higher, and fingertips tucked themselves beneath the satin confines of the upper edge of panties, teasing little strokes at skin that tensed and trembled beneath his touch before they began to slip lower, “and all my other sins.” 

Wax was flowing freely, dripping to punctuate each word, taking his sweet time as you wriggled and bucked in his lap, swallowing little gasps and hisses as your skin sang.

At least one shift of your hips must have caught him just right because for a moment you could hear him choke on his words, feel him tense beneath you again.  Determined to give as good as you got you did it again and felt the rush of his breath fan against your neck.

His free hand tensed where it lay, fingertips so tremulously close to the cleft of lips, and delved to catch a second taut grip over the shape of your bare sex.  The sudden hard grasp of naked contact had you spiraling, arching hard back against him.  He was hard beneath you, you could feel it, and caught between his hand and that hint of hardness digging into the soft of your bottom you rocked slowly, only to be rewarded with a long pour of hot wax up your thigh that turned the gentle motion of hips to a wild little ride.

“May this candle be a flame,” He continued, and the broken rasp of his voice was nearly, nearly as sweet as the single slow caress of his finger that found the slick part of your folds and pressed between slippery skin to drag upward.  Unerringly found the proud, eager little swell of your clit and sent your lower back into a hard strung arch with one little nudge, “that warms my heart and incites me to love.”  He concluded, raggedly, and you swore you felt the graze of chipped teeth scrape over your shoulder.

Riding the light touch of his fingertip and behind you, the hard press of his cock through his pants and your open dress, you sprawled redolently back against him, let your neck find a home in a comfortable arch over his shoulder before turning your head, nestling forehead in the hollow of his throat before shifting to tuck a begging little kiss to the sharp of his jaw.

“Amen.”  You finished for him, and felt the sting of wax hit your hip and then your stomach that made you hiss and buck hips once more.  Your reward a groan of breath from him and another lingering stroke of his fingertips through soaked folds to flick caressingly at the sweet throbbing ache of your clit.

How long, how many bitter nights now had you wished for this, how many feverish and filthy dreams had you endured, just longing to feel his bare touch?  It had become so much worse after your last meeting, all that sharp longing redoubled after his heartless punishing teasing.

No more, no more thin cotton or sheer lace or anything at all between his touch and you.  The heat of his hand was nothing to the splashes of searing wax you’d endured, yet it was so much sweeter.  That little flicking touch came ghosting over the sensitive little nub of your clit and you writhed unashamedly, trying every which way to force his touch more, closer, deeper.

The prayer was far too short for your liking.  What good were hollow words meant to convey something as strong and fervent an ideal as devotion if they were over in mere minutes?  Grumbling a little whinging protest you pushed back against him with a hard roll of hips.

“Father…” You objected, voice cracked with pleading.

“Who?”  The grit dark velvet of his voice asked at your ear, delighted and tormented as the devil himself.

“Daddy.”  The word was out before you could even think it, like it teetered perpetually on the edge of your teeth ever since the first time he prised it out of you,  “P-please, please, daddy…”

The sharp blade of his nose shoved hard behind your ear, his ragged breathing a hushed tickling whuffle from narrow nostrils, and any further pleading you were on the verge of was stifled with a squealed little gasp as he spread the sodden petals of your pussy with the splay of three fingers, and the center one of those long, elegant digits found its way down between slicking folds, delving deep into the welcoming clenching grip of your want… only to withdraw his entire hand in a long, slow drag, tracing a line of accusatory wet all the way up to the dip of your navel.

It left you sobbing tearlessly, gasping and gulping and lifting hips in a wordless eagerness that only earned you another splattering of scalding wax across the strain of thighs.

Father Silco ignored your plight as steadfastly as any man of the cloth could ignore temptation, and began a new prayer.

“Earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for you,

    my whole being longs for you,

in a dry and parched land

    where there is no water.”

The psalm he recited washed over you like a slow caress while you squirmed fitfully on his lap and watched his hand lift, middle finger glossed to its base with your wet.  Vanishing in your periphery, the sound of him sucking that long digit thoughtfully clean acted perfect punctuation to the sacrilege of his misappropriated prayer.  

Guilt spiced the edge of half-denied pleasure and soft pain.  As his hand slid back down your skin and toward the clenching, shivering yearning of your core, you’d never felt so debased, so deeply wicked and wrong.  Burning wax hit your thigh once more in heavy, rolling drops and you arched, straining, hissing between clenched teeth; become more serpent in the garden of Eden than Eve.

“I have seen you in the sanctuary

    and beheld your power and your glory.

Because your love is better than life,

    my lips will glorify you.”

He teased the upper edge of soaked panties once more, tracing the pucker of their hem, slipping fingertips just beneath them, savoring the softness of skin and the way the taut of your stomach quivered beneath his touch.  Desire welled like a dark stone filling your throat, heart coated in the sticky sap of filthy blasphemous sin as his scarred mouth tickled at the hook of your jaw and tender line of your throat.  This was wrong, so wrong, so deliciously perfectly throbbingly wrong.

Heat flooded your face as you crushed the press of prayer folded hands to your forehead, eyes shut tight against the rushing high of mortifying lust.  Forbidden, taboo, illicit; whatever you wanted to call that gut-deep and undisputed knowledge that this was unforgivably wrong, it excited you in a way nothing else ever had.

He could see it in you, you knew he could.  He saw how horrible your deepest darkest thoughts could be and he just kept dragging them out into the light, smiling as he let you dirty yourself with the honesty of your predilections.  

The line of his arm tightened against your side as he reached to slip fingers back into your heat, another lazy circling tease to against clit that left you wrung out and breathless before he delved back inside of you and let you ride the slow pumping slide of one long finger.

“I will praise you as long as I live,

    and in your name I will lift up my hands.

 I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;

    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.”

Your head rocked as he butted his forehead gently to your temple, words a warm, seeping whisper at your cheek, that stern, gravel worn seduction of his voice undoing you, taking you apart at the seams until you felt sure you’d fall open there in his lap like a ragdoll with the sin-like sawdust spilled out.

Inside of you, he was inside of you- and just that knowledge, just the wretchedly wonderful wrongness of it made the whole of you jerk in a taut little shiver of surrender.  That slender artful finger kept up its torment like he had no notion of your mortal struggle; curling, thrusting, buried deep.  It had you in a tailspin, hips working devoid of conscious thought, all sensation dialed down to the hard, hot, fluttering building to a crescendo within.  Greed, gluttony, lust… were they called deadly sins because you felt fit to die if you did not satisfy each one right this moment?  

The stinging pain of the wax he kept dripping in erratic little patterns jerked you from the sinking, seeping pit of ecstatic bliss over and over again, a cruel and wonderful see-saw that kept you gripping white-knuckled on the sharp edge of insensible pleasure.

“On my bed I remember you;

    I think of you through the watches of the night.

Because you are my help,

    I sing in the shadow of your wings.

I cling to you;

    your right hand upholds me.”

His right hand was all that stood between you and heaven; the grinding press of the heel of his palm to the throb of your clit, the smooth slow fucking his single finger was giving you, all of it an overwhelming agony of delight but just shy of what you needed to crest the rising wave of tense bliss he was intent on drowning you with.

Head tossed back, you groaned that little, broken, sordid version of his holy title once more, hands bound at the wrists with your rosary clenched in fervent prayer to your chest that he’d let you come, please God just let you come... 

And with that one word, beneath you Father Silco went suddenly still and rigid, something like a strangled gasp caught in his throat as hips pinned under your writhing ones jerked their own stilted thrust upward… and held for a long and breathless moment before you felt him sag with a rushing, panting release.  His hand cupped to you had gone quite still, and you could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Had he… had he just…?  You shifted hips experimentally and heard him hiss a wordless scolding as his hand gripped the shape of your pussy hard.  Stilling obediently, you had to struggle not to smile sinful bliss.  

Just a little touch of you combined with the friction of your hips working in his lap and he’d cum those dark, well tailored pants of his.

In spite of being robbed of your own relief, for the moment you felt nothing but powerful, smug and heady with the evidence of how your infatuation was not one-sided, just as you had in the confessional, and it made you foolishly proud.

Proud, right up to the point when he withdrew his finger from within you and in the space of a half second, just before your mouth could open in complaint, caught a little pinch of your clit between thumb and middle finger only to assault that overstimulated cluster of slick nerves with his forefinger in such lashing that you pitched clean into the waiting arms of your release.  

It was hard and fast, unmerciful, the lovely strain nearly ruined by how long he’d kept you waiting and how hard he’d teased you up to it.  

“Amen.”  He was purring in your ear, voice near drowned out by the hard thrumming pound of blood rushing in your brain.  Thighs shivered in their hook over top of his own, gone weak as every ounce of tension bled out of you, leaving you lolling, warmly pliant and sighing devoutness far more fervent than any stale saint could have possibly understood. 

There was a little click of glass as he set the remains of the candle back upon his desk and turned your face toward himself where your head lay back upon his shoulder.  Fingers traced the curve of your cheek, and when he licked at the open part of your lips the faint taste of yourself mingled with him lingered.  Bless me father, for I have sinned.  

Profane and perfect, you felt his smile stretch against your mouth.  

“Do you doubt my devotion, lamb?”  He asked quietly, hands smoothing away the cooled and peeling wax in long strokes that left gently welted and red splotched skin stinging sweetly.  

Your head shook infinitesimally, not wanting to break the scant contact of his mouth to your own.

“Do you pray for me, Father?”  The urge to know felt crushing, the weight of guilt creeping in to gnaw at the edges of sordid bliss.

“Oh lamb.  You’re the only thing I pray for anymore.”

#penance #silco #father silco #priest silco #silco au #arcane au #silco x reader #silco arcane x reader #no y/n #more penance at last! rejoice! #my birthday gift to you

[lacroixqueen]

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo tattoo artist sevika x reader AU (18+)

Summary: you are getting your very first tattoo and sevika just so happens to be your tattoo artist. flirting and sexual tension ensue.

Pairing: tattoo artist sevika x reader AU

Word Count: 3357 (she's LONG)

Tags: soft sevika, unresolved tension, useless lesbians, gay panic, tattoo artist, tattoos, tattoo parlor

You shifted around the seat in the waiting room of the tattoo parlor for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of a single minute. For some reason you were a lot less nervous on the way here than you were literally waiting for your tattoo artist to set up the room and look over your art samples. You told yourself that this was something you were going to get done if it was the last thing you did. 

I mean, for God’s sake, it was a brand new year, and you wanted your first tattoo to be something special, to carry meaning that only you will understand. Kind of like a little inside joke. 

Apparently the tattoo artist you selected.. Sevika was it? Was quite well known throughout Zaun for several amazing masterpieces. She was attentive to detail, cared about each and every single one of her customer’s needs, and really wanted to make the best product possible for her clientele. 

You crossed one leg over the other, folding your arms across your chest and heaved out a little sigh. She better damn well be. The waiting list for her business was about three months long. You made sure to do plenty of research before committing to something as permanent as a tattoo. I mean, it will stay on your body for the rest of your life. Perhaps even into your death. 

You shuddered at the thought. Whatever. No matter what, it was far too late to turn back now. You already submitted your deposit, gave the artist the design you had in mind and for crying out loud, you were already here at the goddamn place. So might as well get this over with and try to have as few regrets as possible.

“Y/N?” a low and raspy voice called out from the back of the tattoo parlor. “I’m ready for you. You can come on back now.”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. She was ready for you. Okay. What does that even mean? You stood up, dusting off your skirt and took a final big deep breath. 

Just stay calm, you reassured yourself. Everything will be alright in the end. And if it isn’t, heck, maybe there is a surgeon in town who can remove it altogether and you can forget this even happened. Maybe that’s a bit of an overexaggeration. 

You were greeted by what you could only describe as one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Sevika was tall. And just by the looks of her right shoulder and arm muscles bulging from underneath her black tank… you could tell she worked out. Like a lot. She was also smoking a thick cigar between her lips, so her already godlike silhouette was wrapped around in a dreamlike haze.

You muttered a little curse under your breath. As if matters couldn’t get possibly worse, your tattoo artist was hot. As in, very very very hot. This was going to be a long afternoon. 

“You can take a seat right here,” she said with confidence, slapping the tattoo bed with a resounding echo. 

“Oh, uh, yes okay,” you stammered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before hoisting yourself up in a less than dignified fashion.

 

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” 

Oh no. From the corner of your eye, you could see she was smirking quite noticeably. Her eyes flicked over you just slightly. Shit. Was she checking you out? You didn’t even do your makeup properly today because you had no idea what she even looked like. If you had known earlier that she was this drop dead gorgeous piece perhaps you would have put in a bit more effort. You win some, you lose some, you suppose. 

“J-just a little bit!” you squeaked out. “It’s my first tattoo, so I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, Y/N,” Sevika chuckled as she slid closer to you on her artist chair with your designs in either hand. “If I ever hurt you, you can always tell me to stop and I’ll go slower, okay?”

“Thank you!” Oh god. She smelled so good too.

“Of course. Sooo.. I got to take a look at your ideas last night and I honestly think they are great.” You watched as the thumb of her mechanical hand peeled back a page to glance at the alternate design. 

“Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely. Although I think for this bottom part right here, we might need to make a small color adjustment since there might be some shading issues. And for the top corner here where it gets a little bit more complicated? I think I might do a little bit more dotwork to really flesh out the details. But uh, other than that, the stencil is essentially done.”

“Wow! Then, yes, perfect, let's just keep going then,” you gulped. Your eyes casually glazed over the extensive tattooing Sevika had all over her arm and neck.

“Excellent. So, I’ll just have you lay back and.. you wanted it on your side, right? Just lift up your top for me so I can have easy access to that part.”

“Oh um, sure!” You did as you were told, carefully unbuttoning your sweater and shrugging it off your shoulders. You then laid back, and lifted up your cami to reveal the right aspect of your body. 

“Lovely,” she replied. “And.. may I?” Her mechanical fingertips lightly grazed over the top of your skirt. 

You nodded vigorously. “Of course!” 

With the most gentle touch you have ever felt, Sevika gingerly tugged your skirt down a little bit more so it rested comfortably on the roundest part of your right hip. She did the same with the pink lacy fabric of the thong you had on underneath. You tried to take a small breath as quietly as possible. 

“Cute panties,” she commented almost a bit too nonchalantly before turning her back to you to slip on some latex gloves and ensure her work tray was all in order. 

As if you weren’t already flustered beyond belief, now you might as well have been an uncontrollable mess. “Th-thanks! It’s from um, the store.”

She laughed ever so slightly. “Yeah, I figured as much. Sooo.. for the design. Were you thinking of having it more..” She trailed her gloved fingertip from your pantyline to the top of your chest. “Or more like here?” She ran her other hand over the curve of your waist all the way down to your hip. 

“Uhm.. maybe kind of like.. both? If that makes sense? Like it can sort of spread from..” You gently took her wrist and guided her finger from your belly button all the way to the divot in your waist. “Like that?”

“Hmm.. yes. That should be perfectly fine.” She smirked a bit when you immediately released her arm from your grasp as if you were overstepping a boundary.

 

Without another word, she quickly sprayed some isopropyl alcohol into a wipe and proceeded to sanitize the area. “This might be a bit cold, I’m sorry babe.”

Babe? Did she just call you babe? Does she call all her clients babe? Or is it a little pet name that she only has reserved for you? 

“I-it’s totally fine!” you yelped. But she was right. It was quite cold. She could tell you were lying through your teeth when your tummy suddenly clenched up. 

“You can’t tense up just yet, doll. I haven’t even gotten the needles out,” she chuckled, lightly slapping your hip. “I need you to loosen up a bit, I don’t want you to be too tight.”

“R-right!” you replied. “Definitely don’t want that.” After a brief pause, you struggled to figure out if there was any sort of double meaning in her words. Or maybe you were just overthinking again. 

She let out another hearty laugh and proceeded to massage in some warm lotions into the side of your body. “Just try to relax, hun.” You did as you were told, closing your eyes and making a futile attempt to count numbers. But she wasn’t making your life any easier with all these pet names. And why did her fingers have to feel so goddamn good simply by rubbing cream into your skin. It felt like it was working some type of dark magic, undulating in soft, round circles and moving rhythmically over your waist. 

You could have melted into her hands right then and there. 

“Okay, and now the stencil. This will feel a little bit wet, alright?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip so you wouldn’t accidentally yelp out. For some odd reason, even though you two just met, you felt very safe with Sevika. Like you could entrust your entire body and soul to her and she wouldn’t hurt any of it even if she was fully capable of doing so. 

She smoothed out the stencil exactly over the part of your stomach and waist that you pointed to. She gently kneaded it into your skin, taking extra caution not to be too rough with you. 

With one smooth motion, she removed the stencil and quickly leaned over you to ensure no detail of her handiwork got disrupted. That no stone was left unturned. 

“Looks… just about.. perfect,” she muttered quietly. You could tell her tone has shifted slightly from the flirtatious one she took on earlier. Suddenly she was laser focused, ensuring that nothing, absolutely nothing would disturb the intricacy of her artwork. 

“Great!” you chirped awkwardly, craning your neck over to see the stencil art. Good god. It looked absolutely breathtaking. Her line work was truly something out of this world. And she really did pay attention to every single request you made in your design. “Wow.”

She looked up, locking your gaze with the utmost intensity. “Yeah.” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was quite pleased with herself. 

She turned around to power on her tattoo machine. 

“This part is going to hurt just a little bit, okay?” she spun around in her artist chair to check on you.

 

You nodded your head and exhaled ever so slightly. “Okay.” A giant lump was starting to form in your throat and you could feel yourself getting a bit worked up. 

Sevika immediately held onto your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “If it ever starts hurting, just let me know and I will stop right away.”

“O-okay.”

“We’ll start with the first line. Take a deep breath and count to three for me, alright princess?” Sevika said as she positioned the tattoo gun at an angle to your skin. 

Oh my god. Princess?! She definitely does not call all her clients that. Alright. Big deep breath. One.. two.. three- 

The searing hot needle pierced into your skin like a knife. 

“Ah~!” you let out a small cry and Sevika immediately stopped midline.

 

“Too fast?”

“A little bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll go a lot slower this time.”

You nodded and took in another breath. You felt Sevika’s gloved hand slide over the curve of your waist as she positioned herself to gain a little bit more control over her line. By god did her cologne smell amazing. When she leaned over your body, a few short pieces of her bangs would fall out and just barely graze over your exposed tummy. It was definitely getting a bit difficult for you to concentrate on your breathing and counting. 

Sevika proceeded to carve out the central line of your tattoo design. She worked slowly and methodically, usually in complete silence. But for some reason when she was around you, she felt the urge to keep pushing the envelope and testing your limits. 

“Good girl,” she would coo gently when she noticed your stomach beginning to relax. 

“That’s my good girl..” she would say again when she finished a piece of detailing while you stayed quiet and still. 

You would moan softly every now and then when you felt the needle dig into your skin and Sevika would respond by going just a touch slower and smirking to herself. Secretly, she loved hearing how adorable and helpless her clients sounded when she sank the tattoo needle deep into their skin. Her sadistic nature was one of the primary reasons she decided to go into tattooing as a prime business. 

To have someone completely in her control, at her disposal. To leave a permanent mark on their bodies that would forever remind them of their experience with her. To watch them writhe in pain, or sometimes even pleasure. It was like a drug she simply could not get enough of. 

And you. Something about the way you squirmed was extra fucking enticing and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In fact, she could feel you wriggling ever so slightly even now. “Stay still for me, angel.”

And you would immediately stop. Her voice was soft, but also definitively commanding. She needed to focus. To have you moaning and writhing was too much even for her. Her mind would begin to wander to dangerous places. 

Like how it would feel to start ramming into your cunt right then and there and watching how your sensitive body would react to her thrusts. How irresistible and beckoning your moans would sound as they ricocheted off the walls, encouraging her to pound into you so rough and so hard you just couldn’t take it anymore. How cute you would look clutching onto your sweater for comfort, or holding onto the sides of the tattoo bed for dear life. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t fantasizing about a million hypothetical scenarios in your head. 

Having Sevika press her bicep over the top of your stomach to hold you still just did something to your psyche that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Your eyes danced over the detailing of her own tattoo. It looked to be very intricate and well-thought out… wait a second. Was that supposed to be Zaun?! 

“Um, I-I like your tattoo!” you chirped meekly. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Thanks baby,” she smirked to herself. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Do.. you call all your clients that?” you asked out of the curiosity that was beginning to kill you slowly. 

Sevika suddenly paused in the middle of her tattooing to glance over at you.

 

“Only my favorite ones,” she said with a wink before returning to her work. 

Oh my god. Why does she keep doing that? It’s starting to become unfair. Like she was getting off the high of torturing you and watching your pathetic reactions. And what did she mean by “favorite ones”? So she flirts with all her clients she finds attractive? What does that even mean?!

Every now and then, Sevika would sneak a glimpse over towards you. She loved the way your chain necklace rested so comfortably over the top of your collarbone. Or how plump and kissable your lips looked in the dim lighting of the parlor. Or how your legs were beginning to spread instinctively the closer her tattoo work moved to the top of your skirt. 

Sevika had to fight every last urge in her body to not reach down into your panties and start pleasuring you the way you deserved right then and there on top of that tattoo bed. But she knew she had a job to finish, regardless of how damn adorable you looked and sounded as she drew on the finishing touches of your tattoo. 

“Okay.. almost done,” she said. “You are doing so good, sweetheart.”

You winced a little bit when you felt the needle dig just a bit deeper than usual at the last pattern. Was she trying to tease you back there? Or was that absolutely necessary to finish off the line? Whatever. You tried not to overthink it, even though you have been doing so this entire time. 

“Alright..” Sevika hummed. “Why don’t you step off the bed and take a look in the mirror over there?” 

You did as you were told, hopping off and hobbling over to the full-length mirror across the room. You tilted your head to the side, gently lifting up your cami again to look over the tattoo. Wow. She really did a stunning job. You were a bit surprised, given the fact that she was flirting with you half the time. But holy.. every single piece of line art and dot work flowed so evenly with each other. The design came out exactly the way you had imagined it. 

Sevika gave out a low whistle of approval from behind you. 

You jumped a little bit out of surprise. Sevika had snuck up on you without you even noticing. And god. Just by looking in the mirror she was already towering over you. 

“It’s… beautiful,” you said softly. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sevika replied. “Now, can you take your cami off for me, Y/N?”

“M-my cami?”

Sevika chuckled and raised up the medical grade bandage she had in her hand. “For this.” 

“Oh. Right. Yes. Absolutely.”

You gently tugged off your shirt and tossed it onto a nearby countertop to reveal a pink lacy bra. Sevika tried not to comment on it but she did in fact take note of how good you looked in it. And how badly she wanted to take it off you right then and there. 

Sevika stepped forward so she placed her thigh between your legs and carefully laid the clear bandage over the top of your tattoo. She gently rubbed it in with her thumb and index finger, making sure to smooth out any uneven edges or creases. She smiled a bit to herself when she felt how hard and fast your heartbeat was pounding against your stomach, or how much warmer your skin felt compared to before. 

“Perfect,” she said, quickly removing her gloves and handing you back your shirt. “So, for this bandage, think of it as like a second layer of skin that offers extra protection. Leave it on for the next few days. Then I would rinse it off with some warm water. Oh and, definitely moisturize.” Her tone shifted from flirtatious to professional and matter-of-fact in what felt like a split second. How did she keep doing that?!

“Y-yes ma’am!” you sputtered out, returning to the tattoo bed to shrug on your sweater and gather your belongings. 

“And the payment is already taken care of since I saw you submitted your deposit in advance, so I believe you are all set,” Sevika said. 

“Great! Um.. thank you Sevika. I was super nervous going into this but you definitely made me feel a whole lot better afterwards.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied, giving you another flirty grin. “Oh, and uh-” The tattoo artist went behind the front counter to dig around a bit until she fished out a slightly bent business card and handed it over to you. “Call me.”

“C-call you?! As in like- Oh my god. I’m.. not sure if I would feel.. I mean, isn’t this kind of fast?”

“I meant to update me on your tattoo healing,” Sevika chuckled. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, princess.”

“Right, right, no yes that makes total and complete sense,” you responded, folding the business card nervously into your palm. “Um.. well I guess I’ll.. call you.”

“Yeah.” She had already followed you to the doorframe and you were standing in the streets of the undercity at this point. “I’ll see you around, alright Y/N?”

“Okay! Yes. Um. Bye! Thank you!” You quickly scurried off into the busy crowds of Zaun, disappearing into the darkness once more. 

You were quite certain that if you didn’t act, that you would barely see Sevika again, save an occasional run-in at the liquor store or maybe a random night at The Last Drop. So you didn’t want to take any chances.

#sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane sevika x reader #arcane thoughts #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #arcane #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #arcane fanfic #arcane imagines #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x oc #arcane x female reader

[kissettka]

day 39498698658486393948243952394829389424032855824 I'm still looking at the smiling silco out of context

#silco #arcane silco #silco league of legends #silco arcane #silco x y/n #silco x reader #silco x you #silco imagine #arcane x oc #arcane x y/n #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane art #arcane fanart #arcane league of legends #💗 #🚬.Silco.🚬

[zaun-citizen]

Every, single, year.

“We gotta get reed of the evidence somehow don’t we?” -Jinx

#arcane #arcane jinx #arcane incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #jinx lol #lol #arcane lol #arcane netflix #league of lesbians #source: pinterest #jinx x reader #arcane jinx x reader #arcane x reader #jinx x you #arcane x y/n #caitlyn arcane #vi arcane #arcane sevika #arcane silco #arcane ekko

[th3h0nkz]

Some x Reader fanfics plots for my favorite milfs/dilf from Arcane part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 for those who are intrested

A plot that I miss seeing in fanfics is the whole "I used to hate you, but one day I woke up and we were married", that's so much angst there to explore that it feels like a waste not to write it. I can see this plot happening either to Sevika or Ambessa.

For Sevika, I can see Reader being someone from a rich family from Piltolver and them both end up meeting because Silco and Readers parents became associates so they have to deal with each other daily, till one day, at a fancy gala both Sevika and Reader end up fighting again so reader decides to drink till they can't remember anything but, at the next day, they woke up in a bed that is not theirs and with Sevikas arm around them.

With Ambessa I see more them being "forced" to marry each other as a political move, but Reader is obviously against the idea since they know Ambessa's fame between.... everyone practically, so they made sure to make Ambessa's life a living hell so she would give up on the wedding idea but, one day while trying to run away from the Medarda's palace, Reader end up hurting themselves and the next day wake up on Ambessa's bed thinking this is all a punishment from Janna herself for trying to make the wedding not happen.

Another plot that I think is kinda cute is the "they're the babysitter of my kid so I've to keep myself professional", and obviously this plot is perfect for both Silco and Grayson

For Silco i can see the typical "you save my daughters life and now she wants you on her life forever" BUT with a twist, this hole time saving Jinx life was part of the plan to destroy Silco reign, unfortunally, Reader ends up falling in love with Silco and gets attached to Jinx and now they have to choose between helping the rebellion or leaving everything behinde to keep living their with their "perfect" little family

Now, with Grayson is more of the whole cliche of the plot, Reader is hired by the Kirammans and since Caitlyn is begging her shooting clasess and Cassandra is still against it, it kinda becomes Reader jobs to find any excuse so Caitlyn dosen't take the classes anymore but, obviusly, they end up falling for Grayson at first sight I might add so things end up complicated because they don't want to loose their job as much as they want to spend the most time with Grayson as possible.

And that's it :), if you guys ever write any of the things i post please tag me or send me the link ;)

#fanfic plot #arcane fanfic plot #sevika x reader #sevika/reader #sevika x y/n #sevika arcane #ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda x reader #ambessa x y/n #ambessa medarda x y/n #ambessa arcane #ambessa medarda arcane #silco/reader #Silco x reader #Silco arcane #grayson/reader #grayson arcane/reader #grayson x reader #grayson arcane x reader #arcane grayson #grayson arcane

[mirconreadzztuff22]

- “ALL GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END.”

TW: (death, blades, assassination)

You and Sevika worked together under Silco for years. As time grew, so did your bond between one another. From small glances at meetings, to Sevika offering her cloak whenever you needed it more than her, to Sevika bringing you on dates, to Sevika bringing you home with her. It was all fun. It always has been. Though, as they say, nothing lasts forever. A few minutes before your date with Sevika, Silco called Sevika in. Sevika told you to wait for her at Jericho’s meanwhile she takes care of some things. With a nod, you left and went to Jericho’s without any other thought. Boy was that a mistake.

When Sevika went into Silco’s office, Silco had told her to lock the door behind her, to which she did. With a cigar in his hand, Silco spoke; “Thank you for arriving on such short notice.” Sevika simply hummed. “What’s this all about?” Sevika questioned as she sat down. She was a little bit impatient, as she wanted to go on a date with you as soon as possible, but Silco was being a hold-up. With a sigh, Silco turned his chair around to face Sevika. “Them.” Silco simply said as he pulled up your file. Sevika reached over to grab it, to see it was you. She didn’t necessarily like where this was going, for good reason. Though, she kept her mouth shut. “They’re a problem.” Silco informed Sevika, his eyes narrowed as he taps his cigar on the desk.

Rightfully so, Sevika got upset, as she put the file down. “How’s that so?” Sevika asked, practically glaring Silco down, though, he didn’t falter. “They’re deadweight. They have done nothing practical. Either way, they’re rebelling.” Silco tells Sevika straight up, which gets her more pissed than she would like to have admitted. It was true, after Jinx’s stunts and Silco’s lack of action, you started to agree with Finn. Even with Silco’s punishment, you still stood with Finn, much to Sevika’s dismay. “They’re aren’t useless. They have done a lot over these shitty years. You act as if Finn isn’t the one to blame either.” Sevika tells Silco, clearly furious. Silco shook his head as he leaned back against his chair. “He won’t be a problem for long. For now, I need them gone.” Silco ordered. Sevika wasn’t taking any of this, as it made her sick to her stomach.

“..I’m not doing that shit.” Sevika retorts, her fists in a ball. “That wasn’t a request, Sevika.” Silco told her, his gaze hardened. “If you don’t, I’ll just let Ran take care of such matters.” Silco said as he sat up, but Sevika immediately got in his way. “No! I’ll..” Sevika yelled out before sighing, looking down at the ground, still furious. But if you had to go down, she wanted to be the one who does it. “I’ll get it done.” Sevika finally mumbled, not bothering to look at the man before her. Silco hummed as he sat back down. “Good. Now leave.” Silco demanded coldly, to which Sevika stomped out of his office, slamming the door behind her. She had to prevent herself from doing something stupid, so she took a few deep breaths and stomped over to Jericho’s, heading over to your date.

After a while, there you were, talking with Jericho before noticing Sevika. You told Jericho to hold on before getting up from the stool and heading over to Sevika. “Hey! What took you so long! Was Silco eating at you or something?” You asked jokingly as you walked Sevika to a stool next to yours. Sevika already felt guilty enough, but she tried to be subtle about it. “That’s one way to put it.” Sevika replied, forcing a half-assed chuckle, though, you just thought she was annoyed after it all. Soon, you two sat down together and ordered your meals. As the date went on, everything was fine; well, for you anyway. This whole time Sevika was thinking ‘why? How?’ Sometimes you even had to make her snap out of her thoughts because she spaced out.

Later on, you and Sevika finally payed for your food and drinks before heading off. During the whole date, Sevika had a plan and decided to bring it to action. Soon, Sevika held your hand and dragged you to an alleyway. “Why are we going this way? Home is on the right” You asked Sevika. Sevika didn’t reply. All she did was hug you. “I’m sorry.” Sevika mumbled, her eyes closed as she held you tight. You were really confused now. “For what, Sev.?” You asked once more, looking up at Sevika. “This.”

Was all Sevika said before she unsheathed her blade from her knuckles in her mechanical arm and stabbed you in the abdomen. This whole time, Sevika held you close. You gasped into her, holding onto her. As you embraced the pain from being impaled, Sevika muttered “I’m sorry” once again. “I’m sorry we couldn’t last.” Sevika whispered, getting teary eyed. “I love you..” was the last thing you heard from Sevika before you had your final breath, closing your eyes and slipping away from her. Once you had gone cold, Sevika held onto you for a little longer, a few tears slipping down.

As they say, everything is temporary.

#arcane #sevika arcane #sevika #jinx mentioned #silco mentioned #arcane silco #silco #finn arcane #finn arcane mentioned #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #fuck silco #angst with no comfort #Spotify #jericho arcane mentioned #jericho arcane

[unluckiestmember]

Intimate Moments (Arcane Edition)

Summary: The most intimate and emotional moment during sex you’ve had with the main Arcane characters!

Characters: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor and Silco

Warning: NSFW for sexual themes and suggestive themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: A compilation from my last account and one of my personal favorite imagines/headcanons. Enjoy!

Jinx

It was your first time having sex with her. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but Jinx being Jinx, dived head first. Literally. She thinks she’s seen and been to heaven when she’s between your legs. The feeling of her on you in such a position made you moan out her name.

Not Jinx. But Powder.

Jinx stares up at you and you already know you made a mistake. No one calls her Powder, not even Silco! Unless you have a death wish, you should keep that name out of your mouth!

You stare down at her blue eyes expecting a scowl or a roar! But you were shocked when she whispered to you,

“Say it... Say it again.”

So you say it. “Powder.”

“Say it again.”

“Powder.”

“Please say it again.”

“Powder...”

You experience the best orgasm in your life, having the loose cannon below pleasure you like there was no tomorrow. She let her tongue work wonders and picked up her pace, taking in all of you in her mouth. When you came, Jinx cleaned you up and even pleasured you a little more, causing your eyes to roll back in eternal bliss.

She could tell you were finished for now so she pulled herself up to cuddle into your side. It took you a minute until you realized she cried to sleep. Not tears of anger or sorrow. But of joy.

Ever since, you are the only one who can call her Powder.

Vi

Vi is a wild animal in bed.

She’ll throw you down and waste no time to fuck your brains out for simple pleasure.

But one day, during a steamy make out session, you stopped to kiss down on her bandaged knuckles.

She’s taken a back for a minute.

Why would you do that?

You keep kissing on her knuckles without a care in the world. “Stop it,” She told you, trying her best to pull away from you. But you hold her softly. “Y/N, stop it...” She keeps fighting back for a minute, but eventually stops.

The brute breaks in your arms. How could you do that? How could you love someone who’s ruined so many lives with those fists of hers? It was impossible, wasn’t it? But you told her the answer to her worries and questions with a single glance into her gray eyes.

‘No.’

That night, you two had sex as usual, but this was more personal. More intimate. Vi took more gentle strokes and eased into picking up her speed and slamming harder on you.

She screams and moans your name like a prayer, countlessly says she loves you, feeling like any moment you will disappear. Though the way your hands relaxed on her hips and drew circles along her waist said otherwise.

The two of you came together before sleeping in each other’s arms. She could get used to sensual sex like that…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Innocent little Caitlyn.

Why are there barely any headcanons for Caitlyn? I-

Caitlyn was a classy woman, so sex was never really on her mind. It still wasn’t when you guys started dating. But you both knew you had to get things over with eventually. So one evening, Caitlyn dragged you to her room to try it.

The both of you were super awkward, especially the female enforcer. She would always ask in between actions “Are you okay? Is this right? Should it be the other way?” Bless her soul.

All around, everything was going well.

Until it was time to get naked. When it came her turn to feel pleasure, she didn’t do anything.

She hung her head low to the ground almost in disappointment. She stared down at her body. Thoughts lingered in her head; ‘What if I’m not beautiful to Y/N? What if I make a fool out of myself?’

Before she could ask herself any more questions, you rid her of her worries with sweet kisses. With every piece of clothing thrown on the floor, you whisper out, “You’re so precious. You look like an angel. Oh, I love you so much.”

You almost broke her down with every kiss you placed to mark her body. Your lips graced on her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her chest and finally her core. Oh, you loved everything about her.

You started to eat her, licking inside her folds at an average pace and flicking your tongue on her clit.

In a matter of seconds, her hands are lost in your hair, pushing your head closer to her to feel all of your tongue inside of her. Her moans clouded the room long after she came in your mouth. Pulling up, you both had lust in your eyes and could tell the night was still young…

Let’s just say she eventually screamed your name to the heavens long into the night and she realized two things; Sex with you was the best! And she was beautiful.

Ekko

Ekko has always been a bit of a wild boy when it came to having sex with you. It’s why you two were together to begin with.

He can be playful some nights, chuckling with you when he messes up something. Rough when he just really wants you. And romantic when you just need to know he cares about you.

One night the two of you were just having the time of your lives. He was slamming into you from behind, groaning out, “You like that, huh? Yeah, go ahead and scream my name, baby.” And boy did you love it.

Just feeling him stretch you out and pound deeper and faster in you was like euphoria. You found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, “Ah, yes! Right there! Fuck, I love you, Ekko!”

You didn’t want it to stop, but soon the movement had slowed and the grip on your thighs loosened. You felt your body turning now to face the leader of the firelights panting down at you. “You love me,” He questioned, his brown eyes glistening in the moonlight full of hesitant awe.

Did you say you loved him? You never told him because you were scared of getting attached. He was the leader of a cause and lived in Zaun. Any minute he could be taken from you, so you tried not to get attached. Yet you said you loved him, whether it be out of lust or love wasn’t important. You said the sacred three words to him.

In that moment, you were sure as he began to stroke inside of you again, you didn’t see a warrior. You saw your boyfriend, your best friend, your everything.

He must have seen that in you too because he started to dig deeper in you, continuously hitting your g-spot with smooth strokes. His arms wrapped around you tightly, groaning at the feeling of a climax approaching him.

Together in a sea of utter pleasure, the both of you came together before relaxing in each other’s embrace under the shine of the midnight moon.

You slept well that night in his arms, letting him hold onto you with the mindset of if he let you go, you wouldn’t come back.

No matter what, after that day, you both say I love you at least once a day.

Viktor

My everything next to Jinx.

You and Viktor have been partners for a long time in Piltover, working on projects together when he wasn’t accompanied by Jayce. Though you two never started to officially date because hexcore was more important, even if deep down you two wanted to become an item.

Well, the thing about humans is that they don’t know how precious people are until they almost lose them.

Viktor found himself having a particularly horrible week; The hexcore may have fixed him, but took away a close friend. He may have almost stopped an incoming war, but he ended up losing some close allies due to the bombing on the council’s headquarters.

He had thought he lost you when the city went into lockdown due to the commotion. Thank the gods he found you that night safe and sound at your home.

Thank the gods he was safe too.

That following night, the two of you met one another at your home, where he knocked on your door. Your eyes connected with his amber eyes, and you were sure they screamed one thing; ‘I need you’.

In a matter of seconds, you two synchronized like gears to slam each others’ lips onto one another. Moving in rhythm, bodies danced through the dimly lit house towards your bedroom, where the scientist pushed you down on your comforter and wasted no time to rid himself of your clothes.

You did the same, though you found it cute and amusing that he was apologizing for his ‘inappropriate’ actions. You showed it was okay when you slammed your lips onto his again and felt yourself yearning for him.

You two grinded on each other, letting your lower bodies explore one another through groans and moans. The entire night, you two were one. Nothing else mattered when you found Viktor cumming inside of you and placing your hand gently onto your cheek.

You two stared at one another desperately before you heard the man speak in his native tongue, “я люблю тебя так сильно.”

You never questioned what that meant, but when you two started dating, he made it an effort to always tell you “I love you so much.”

Silco

As long as you’ve been dating the crime lord of Zaun, you knew damn well that Silco was not an emotional guy. No one has ever seen him let out his feelings to people, not even Jinx.

If he did ever give into his emotions, it would be out of anger, but never out of love.

He only ever saw sex as something done to relieve stress, kind of like you. You were his bitch anyways, nothing more.

That’s why he would always fuck your brains out, slamming his cock inside of you through your mouth or lower end with one goal in mind; To forget about the world and please himself for once in his god awful life.

However, one evening when he was railing deep inside of you on your desk, something was different to say the least. He wasn’t fucking you like a mad man. He wasn’t calling you degrading names and growling like an animal. Instead, his strokes were sensual and careful.

That was new. Was he sick? It’s not that you didn’t enjoy it. But why was he doing this?

You reach up to touch his face where his scar was and the man had froze up. You wanted to ask what the hell was going on. Where was the man who would pound you senseless?

Instead of being given an answer, his orange and blue eyes just pierced down at you before he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Through those eyes, you had seen the man you once knew. A man who was calculating, but somewhat compassionate. A man who just wanted the best for him and his brother. A man once had big dreams he wanted to accomplish with you by his side.

He always said that naïve brat was gone, but you always knew he was in there. That’s why you had no issue with this new version of him. It’s why you never batted an eye at his scarred eye. As a matter of fact, you adored it. You adored him.

With the feeling of your lips crashing slowly into his, Silco began to fuck you as usual. His strokes only picked up after a moment of your moans colliding in your mouth.

Before you knew it, he came hard and deep inside of you, making you scream out his name before relaxing a bit. Now panting hard on his desk, you stared up at Silco, finding him panting along with you. He eventually pulled away to sit in his chair.

You don’t know why he apologized or what happened that night, but from that day forward, Silco was more open to showing his appreciation for you…

Arcane requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

#arcane x gender neutral reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x oc #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #arcane jinx #arcane violet #arcane caitlyn #arcane viktor #arcane ekko #arcane silco #jinx x oc #jinx x you #jinx x gender neutral reader #jinx x reader #vi x oc #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x y/n #caitlyn x y/n #caitlyn x you #caitlyn x reader #vi league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #ekko x you #ekko x y/n

[corabloom13]

Arcane x Reader with miscarriage/stillbirth headcanons

MASSIVE TW for miscarriage, stillbirth infertility medical stuff.

You and Silco were both planning on a new baby for a while. Singed warned such a pregnancy would be high-risk - but you both took the chance knowing what was likely to come.

When you miscarried, Silco ran straight to you upon hearing your blood-curdling cries. He wasn't about to let you do this alone. He held you on your bed, brushing away sweaty bangs.

You felt guilty. After years of trying for a baby you failed. Silco blamed you, didn't he? "It's not your fault," he assured you, bundling up your baby gently so he could lay them to rest. Silco's without qualms for cleaning you up, to. Deep down he's heartbroken just as much as you are but he knows whatever he feels it will be immeasurably worse for you.

Which is why adopting Jinx never seemed like a bad idea to him. Silco should've asked you about it before, but when your eyes lit up your arms wrapped your new daughter in a warm hug. "Maybe it's possible it all worked out in the end," you coo to him.

According to doctors, your pregnancy was fine. Your baby had a steady heartbeat, you and Viktor were ecstatic to become a family.

Which is why both of your hearts shatter come delivery day, your infant pops out not breathing. "Vik, what's wrong?!" You demand as hospital staff rush your baby out of the room. Viktor is torn between following his child and staying to protect you but one reassuring yet concerned look in his golden eyes tell how nervous he is. "I'll be right back, Love." He lightly kisses your forehead before following where they were taking the newborn.

When he returned, eyes puffy tears staining his pale face you knew. Viktor didn't need to utter a sound for you to understand your child was gone. A rare moment occurred where both of you were vulnerable, holding each other. What about all the plans they had as a family? What about the nursery you decorated with peculiar toys and trinkets Viktor spent days slaving away to craft?

Years slip by. Apparently you ended up infertile from the stillbirth - something you personally found bizarre. You and Viktor drifted somewhat in your relationship, you end up not wanting to dwell on such hardships and Viktor drowning himself with his work. "HexTech can save lives, Y/N," he mumbles at the lab while you're coaxing him to come home for the night. "Vik, you've been up here for weeks. Why not sleep at home tonight, hmm?"

"But the Hexcore - it responds to biomatter. It revives and replenishes dead tissues -" "Viktor!" You scold, bunching your fists. "You push the world, everyone away including me so you can slave away on Hextech. I know how much you want to save lives, but what's done is done. Our baby died years ago, Vik, you don't think I know that? All the nights I lay awake wishing for a child to hold? How I go into the unused nursery, sobbing at the crib that will never have a baby to hold?" You take a deep breath, rubbing your eyes. "As much as you may wish for things to be different, I get it. But no amount of experiments will be able to fix this. Let's just try and fix us, alright? C'mon, let's head home."

Viktor stands up, holding you in a much needed hug before holding your hand escorting you home.

Jinx was always extra careful around you while you were pregnant. She hardly is ever careful, so she must care for you and your baby a lot.

You don't know how to tell her you miscarried. Jinx put in so much effort to look after you, if you tell her you lost the baby her heart will surely break. "Do you want me to tell her for you, Y/N?" Silco offers smoking a cigar. "Nah, I can handle it."

"Toots!" Jinx's blue hair dances when she sees you climb up into her hideout. "Jinx, there's something we need to talk about," Jinx lifts up her goggles nodding. "Sure thing but check this out!" Pulling out a contraption from under her desk, it's metal with prongs holding dangling handmade stuffed toys. Decorated in bright blues and pinks, Jinx presses a button as her machine spins playing music. "It's a mobile!!"

"That is very sweet of you, Jinx, however something came up-" "Oh! Almost forgot!" She chuckles, lips curling in a smile. "These bad boys can watch your baby like a hawk. Anyone tries to steal it and - bam!" Her hands hold up a miniature bomb. "Yes thank you for your help, but -" "If ya ever need help burpin' em, this baby bouncer outta-" "Jinx, there is no baby!"

Her grey eyes widen, head tilting. "Y-You're joking right?" She chuckles, lightening the mood. You sit beside her at Jinx's bench, holding her scrawny, delicate hands in yours. "No, unfortunately its not a joke. I lost the baby yesterday, which is why I wasn't able to see you." Her eyes turn cold. "B-But we were careful! We were careful to make sure you had what you needed-" Jinx jerks her head, shaking it in disagreement. You knew she was prone to hallucinations, exactly why you avoided this chat with her.

"Look, no matter what the voices are saying it wasn't your fault. We did our best and in the end it didn't work." "No! You're going to leave, ain't ya sweetheart?!" Jinx jolts from her seat, pacing. "Yeah. You'll leave all because I couldn't save anyone. You're no different then Vi!" You rush to her as both of you break down crying, holding her in an embrace. "How long has it been since anyone held you like this?" You ask.

"Y-You're not gonna ditch me, Y/N?" You cup her face, heartbroken by all that she's gone through but glad that you had each other. "Of course not! It wasn't your fault. Now, let's grab some drinks at the last drop, hmm?"

You were already pregnant when you started dating Sevika. She could've cared less, but of course your baby would be protected under her watchful eyes.

Which is why she was concerned when Singed told you it was twins. Sevika didn't think the Undercity would provide enough supplies to look after them. "I'll see what Silco can do," she said kissing your abdomen.

Sevika was out on a mission - "Babysitting Jinx. Am really over qualified for this shit." - When your water broke. Being alone upstairs of the Last Drop was harsh, as you made yourself comfortable on the couch as much as you could. When one of Silco's goons walked in they sent for Sevika right away.

Twin stillbirths seemed to hit both of you like a truck. Sevika blames herself for not being there when you needed her. That's how she learned to keep her professional and personal lives separated.

That night, as you lay in bed quieter than usual your partner sits on the edge of your bed, her mechanical hand holding yours. "Y'know, it's gonna hurt like fucking hell, Y/N. Don't expect it to be pretty. I've known a few people who were in your situation and they-" you turn so she can see your face, her features softening upon seeing you. "They are okay. They weren't okay at first, but they took one day at a time." She cuddles close to you, as you smell liqueur and shimmer on her it's all comforting. It's Sevika, Sevika who would be your knight in shining armor. Your right hand man. She'd never leave you for the world.

Jayce did need to worry. After all the doctors told you both this was a high-risk pregnancy.

"Y/N, you'll be fine," he reassuringly rests his hand on your abdomen. Despite his kind words you couldn't help to worry. This was Piltover's Golden Boy's heir to House Talis, the child of an empowering councilor.

Jayce worked a lot - meetings and presentations. He wished he could be with you more to enjoy this precious time, but his brother-in-arms Viktor made sure to help you and kept an eye on you if you needed anything.

Jayce was pulled backstage by Sky during a presentation in front of the whole damn city. When he snapped at her he saw her face which revealed what happened. "Shit!" He dashes out of the building, ignoring crowds of people who adored and admired him.

"Y/N!!" Jayce pulls the hospital curtain over to see you. Wiping your tears with your hand, you choke on your sobs. "The...b-baby flat lined and...." You squeeze his hand, screaming at the top of your lungs.

"I-I am so sorry, I should've spent more time with you-" "I forgive you," you say, pulling him into a comforting kiss. After all Jayce showed up didn't he? He reassured you when your fears got the better of you while massaging your ankles. "Get some rest, alright? We'll talk about it in the morning."

You're stillbirth somehow magically never created a rift between you two.

Granted no relationship is perfect, but Ekko would be damned if he let your baby's death cause friction between you two.

Ekko is adaptable enough to try and continue one day at a time, even for your sake. He'd keep you comfortable in the Firelights hideout, allowing you to take a break for as long as you need.

"Found this old gramophone. Think you can fix it up?" He asks, as you nodd. He'd always adored you for your tinkering, even if you couldn't fix everything he'd have you focus on what you could fix.

When you lost your baby, Ekko and the Firelights created the best send off for them. A decorated casket with flowers. As they buried them by their mural, they released a sworn of Firelights up in the sky.

It was honestly more than you could ask for. It wasn't ideal but knowing Ekko knew what to do next kinda saved your life.

#tw miscarriage #tw stillbirth #tw infertility #arcane headcanon #arcane silco #arcane viktor #arcane jinx #arcane powder #arcane sevika #arcane jayce #arcane ekko #silco x reader #viktor x reader #jinx x reader #sevika x reader #jayce x reader #ekko x reader #silco x y/n #viktor x y/n #jinx x y/n #sevika x y/n #jayce x y/n #ekko x y/n #silco x you #viktor x you #jinx x you #sevika x you #jayce x you #ekko x you

[lydia-san]

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike #harry hart #harry hart x reader #silco #silco x reader #shoto aizawa #aizawa x reader #thorin #thorin x reader #x reader #x y/n #y/n #imagine #arcane x reader #mha x reader #kingsman x reader #star trek x reader #star wars x reader #let me know in the reblogs which lovely daddys I forgot to mention #colin firth #colin firth x reader

[mistiell]

Crushing on morally grey characters and reading x reader fics about them knowing full well if anyone ever said shit like that to you irl you’d fully start crying >>>

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #the darkling #aleksander morozova #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling’s actually pretty sweet in most fics I’ve read but my point still stands #silco arcane #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki god of mischief

[vinciwolf]

Pushed

Silco x fem!Reader

Synopsis: don’t test the hand that gives you pleasure

Warnings: Explicit, nsfw, MDNI

A/N: Silco’s hands hnnnngggg

The whole room swayed as the air around your head became heavy and intoxicated. You weren’t drunk. No, not at all.

It was the way his slippery tongue dragged along the edge of your mouth that stifled your moans reverberating against the large hand snaring your larynx. Fingers dimpled the skin they gripped as the man in front of your, now flush against your chest, a hand between your shoulder blades, pushed you backwards with his hips

Pinched skin jolted your senses when the edge of Silco’s desk rammed the back of your thighs. Angry, your bit hard at the rat man’s lip earning the hand occupying your throat, controlling your breath, a rough press and squeeze of your windpipe. His other hand came down and clamped the underside of your ass, bending your leg sharply, and tilted his pelvis inwards towards your heat then quickly retreated.

An audible whine rolled through your chest as you craved the feeling of his bulge against your sopping mess below just once more.

The Eye of Zaun’s sneered into your mouth.

He was in control and you knew better.

The force of the painful grip on your leg led you to slip the rest of your rear onto the desk behind you which allowed Silco’s midriff to spread your leg apart as he pinned you flat beneath his weight.

"You really want to do this here?" he taunted with a smug satisfactory smirk when he rolled his bulge into your throbbing cunt again, edging another moan from you.

Leaning up on hands on either side of your face, he hovered and eyed your panting chest, breasts peeking forward, before he clutched the fabric and ripped open your shirt with a loud tear, buttons popping and jumping everywhere.

He then shoved a breast out of your bra and lapped at the nipple, its peak dragging along the rough texture of his tongue making your spine lurch backwards in an arch.

Air moves swiftly with a whoosh as the office door swings open unexpectedly.

It was Sevika.

Her mouth dropped open wordlessly while her eyes darted between the coupled bodies on her boss’s desk, his mouth midway pleasuring his mistress’s nipple. Silco pulled away and stood up straight, hips still pinning you to the desk. Neck stretching, you peer at Sevika’s upside-down figure currently taking up most of the door’s threshold, then smiled.

Then your mind thought of the most brutal way to get back at Silco.

A hand climbed slowly up Silco’s waistcoat, buttons pressed sideways and moved around beneath your palm snaking up the length of his torso. Then, with a swirl of your wrist, his tie entangled your hand and was used to hoist yourself even along his lean frame. Silco was firm in his place, acting unfazed, but you could feel his breath hasten against your breasts.

“Is there anything you—“

“Uh, no, I, Uh,�� Sevika couldn’t peel her eyes away as you kissed Silco’s neck, the sloppy wetness could be deliberately heard as your mouth claimed wherever it desired.

One hand idly wondered down his backside…

“Well, if you don’t require any AH—ssistance!” 

…only to land a blow to his ass cheek.

A smug grin pulled your face tightly. You win.

You heard Sevika mumble something, then came a hard thud from the door behind.

The air was knocked from your lungs as Silco’s hands forced you down and claimed your wrists. He clutched your wrists together with an iron grip then transferred to only one hand just when the other disappeared out of sight.

You mewled and bit your lip when you felt his fingers slip below your underwear and cup the apex of your heat, intentionally avoiding putting pressure on your clit much to your great pain as you rolled your pelvis into his palm, trying to create the traction your body so badly craved.

Silco steel eyes bore into your own before they squinted as his lip pulled faintly into a wicked grin. His face moved a hair’s length above the shell of your ear, invading your entire body with a low, grainy voice.

"This will be done to you slowly.”

"I won't beg," you challenged.

"Oh?” he chimed, “I'm sure you will eventually. Everyone has their breaking point."

Your breath stuttered briefly then abrupted into loud spasms of pleasure when two fingers curled into your pussy.

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco x female reader #silco x fem #arcane silco x reader #arcane silco x you #arcane silco x y/n #arcane silco x fem reader #arcane silco x female reader #arcane silco #silco arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane fanfics #silco fanfiction #silco fanfic #my writing

[theiauwu]

Can you do head canons for Silco and Viktor with a super anxious partner?

Pairing: Silco x Gender Neutral! Reader, Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 289; 300

Genre: fluff, headcanon

Yes I can! Hope you like what I’ve written and I hope you all request for more Silco & Viktor content if you enjoy my writing style!

Content Warning: anxiety

Silco:

I feel like the man would incredibly patient and understanding with someone anxious. Have you seen the way he handles Jinx when she was stabbing his repeatedly in the face with his eye needle thingy?

So reassuring.

Feeling restless and questioning your every action? He senses it as soon as it happens and is quick to provide the comfort you need to overcome it. Everything else can wait.

Depending on where the two are, his actions differ.

If you are in private, he’ll look at you in your eyes with his mismatched ones and tell you that you’re perfect just the way you are. And that you shouldn’t care about what others think. He’d say those words so softly yet with so much conviction, you find yourself believing it.                     

“And if they have any sense of survival, they’ll keep their words to themselves.”

It wouldn’t be him without a quick threat to whatever is causing you such distress.

In public, he’d be more subtle in his actions. He would take your hand in his under the table and rub the back of it with his thumb. Very subtle in his actions but the comfort it there.

Also it wouldn’t hurt to flash a stern glare in the direction of the cause of your anxiety, especially if it’s a person. Would wave for someone to get rid of it if it’s an object and the same goes for the person if the time calls for it.

“Get it out of my sight.”

Wants you to know that you have nothing to be anxious about.

Loves you as you are and he wouldn’t change anything for the world.

“My lovely, you are perfect the way you are, everyone else be damned.”

Viktor:

He is a man of science. Of logic.

So trust me when I say he is not lying when he says you shouldn’t be anxious. Would say it in a way that sounds factual, as if it’s a math formula he’s written hundreds of times on paper.

He is patient as he listens to your concern and he understands it theoretically but is unable to truly understand what you have to be anxious of because he doesn’t see it.

You are perfect in his eyes.

Though he does his best to comfort you despite it.

He will cup your face in his non occupied hand and make you look at him as he whispers words of comfort to you.

“What others think of you shouldn’t matter my dear. If you aren’t harming anyone then why should they care?”

He is a problem solver at heart so when he is made aware of your anxiety, the first thing he does *after making sure you’re okay* is to head to the library and do all the research he can to help you overcome it.

He is slower to detect your anxiety cause the man is not the best at noticing things like this but he learns fast to make up for it.

In the comforts of your home, he’d sit you down and have you tell him about the source of your anxiety and he will debunk it without ever being dismissing of your anxiety.

In public, if he detects your anxiety flaring up, he’d come up to your side and hold your hand tightly in his. Letting you know that he’s there and will support you in any way you need him to.

“I’m here love, if you need anything don’t hesitate to let me know. I am here for you.”

If he’s feeling quirky, might suggest running away.

“If you want to, may I suggest allowing me to whisk you away?”

#arcane #silco x reader #silco headcanon #silco fanfic #arcane netflix #silco x oc #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane league of legends #viktor x you #viktor lol #viktor x y/n #viktor x oc #viktor x reader #silco x you #arcane silco #viktor headcanons

[linesfromzaun]

Palms (Silco x Gen!Reader)

Rating: G

Tags: fluff, INNOCENT HAND COMPARING (u nasties 😤), cuddling, Smoking Silco, playing with Silco’s hands :’0)

A/N: I overworked myself today at work and needed some Silco fluff. Shout out to @purpurniymstitel for her post here, I haven’t stopped thinking about this because I need him spiritually, carnally, and physically, I am depraved 😔💔

“Darling, I’ve noticed something quite interesting,” Silco exhales the cigar smoke as he talks. You both are relaxing on the red sofa in his office, he sits upright, slightly reclined. You’re draped across his lap, looking up into the decorated rafters.

“And what’s that, hm?” You give an amused smile to match the tone of your voice. Silco holds his free hand up, fingers pointing to the ceiling.

“Place your hand against mine.” You feel a schoolgirl blush creep across your cheeks. You’ve known Silco for a while now, yet you’ve only recently become an item. You place your palm against his, and he lines his fingers up with yours. “I’ve noticed your hands are alarmingly small.”

“Alarmingly? What, like a bad thing?” You giggle as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Not a bad thing, however I think it would be rather difficult to live with such small hands. How do you wield a dagger?” You huff in feigned annoyance and lace your fingers around his.

“Same as you, have you ever thought about the fact that you might just have really large hands? Your hands are double the size of mine.” You pull the hand that hold yours closer, and begin moving around his fingers lightly.

“Perhaps you just have very tiny hands. It seems to me my hands would be normal size for a man my height.” You give a sarcastic “mhm” and his laughter rumbles in his chest. You continue playing with his hand. Seeing how far they naturally spread out, placing his fingers in different positions. You try to sneak what it would look like if Silco gave the bird and his fingers stiffen. “Are you seriously trying to get me to flip someone off?”

“Just yourself.” You laugh at his blank expression and kiss his knuckles. He holds your fingers in the palm of his hand, swiping his thumb across the little knuckles. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” His thumb caresses your skin once more. His lips lifting into a gentle smile.

“I should buy you a ring, your hands are very adorable.” Oh, he made you melt. He always had the sweetest things to say about you in the safety of privacy. “I’m thinking gold, a little blue or red gem. Simple, but with a statement.”

“Already trying to claim me as yours, I see.” Silco chuckles and his lips press against the skin of your fingers.

“Can’t have anyone getting ideas about you, now can I?” You laugh as he snubs out his cigar in the ash tray, and his now freed arm pulls you into him.

“I suppose not, oh how you woo me, Eye of Zaun.” A kiss on your lips has you humming, the taste of spiced tobacco has you dizzy in love.

“It’s a natural talent, something I pride myself in. Especially since I have you to call mine.” You’re pulled to rest against his chest, and he joins you in lying down on the couch. You both sigh as he pulls the blanket over you both. His hand previously holding yours cards in your hair, the other rubs soothingly along your back.

“I wish we could stay like this forever, just block out the world. Have it just be us and Jinx.” A chaste kiss is pressed to your temple and his nose rests against your skin, feeling his breath breeze against you.

“Me too, my dove, me too.”

#silco #arcane silco #silco my beloved #silco x reader #silco fanfic #silco x female reader #silco x y/n #silco one shot #arcane #silco x gender neutral reader #silco x male reader #silco fluff

[kissettka]

i was thinking you probably don't have enough of my silco posts, so here's a compilation of the silco profiles.

because every time i see this i'm like

#silco #arcane silco #silco league of legends #silco arcane #silco x y/n #silco x reader #silco x you #silco imagine #arcane x oc #arcane x y/n #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane art #arcane fanart #arcane league of legends #💗 #🚬.Silco.🚬

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Can I request for Jinx, Vi, and Cait having a Werewolf s/o, please? Like s/o is stoic and intimidating towards others, but is soft and sweet like a lovesick puppy towards the girls and would do anything for them. Thank you!

(Hey! i don't do werewolf thing's, sorry, I just thing they're kinda weird lmao. But the rest I can do, Enjoy!)

JINX, VI & CAITLYN X STOIC & INTIMIDATING S/O

Jinx

Before you two got together she first knew you as the “Quiet goon”

She didn’t see you socialize with literally anyone 

You worked for Silco, if that isn’t obvious

She would mess with you a bit

Try and get you to open up or even crack a smile

You usually did intimidations with Sevika for information

She sometimes would tag along with Silco

She liked how it always worked, you were intimidating

She didn’t really get how stoic you were

She was pretty much the opposite

Always showing how she was feeling, in any setting, she didn’t care, except when she was sad and shit

But after you two got together

Whole other story with you

She noticed how you acted so differently with her 

She would walk in and unlike before, you looked so happy and like you visibly lit up

She felt honored tbh

Showed how happy she was

She liked how sweet and happy you were with her after

And you actually laughed and goofed off with her?!

Oh my god

Jinx is in love

And if you set something on fire or explode something with her finally?

Jinx is never letting go

And you would do anything for her

Like she would do anything for you

Marriage

Now.

Vi

Vi always knew how you looked so quiet and stoic all the time

She never knew how the hell you were feeling

She didn’t really talk to you at first but you were friends with Caitlyn

So she then got to know how intimidating you were

And how much you intimidated a lot of people

She didn’t know how you felt towards her until she liked you and you liked her and one of you confessed

But then you started dating

And she was surprised when she saw how sweet and happy you were towards her

And how you would do anything she asked of you

She didn’t know how to feel ngl

But it was a nice turn around surprise

She loved it

She loved the affection 100%

She also liked how people would be surprised 

Like imagine this person, looking like they wanna kill you by intimidation, only to light up and be all happy when Vi merely walked in the room

She felt so smug to everyone else

She teased you a bit at first

But like she is the only one who got that reaction out of you

And she’d be damned if she wouldn’t be able to take advantage of it

So safe to say she loved it so much

Caitlyn

Caitlyn was a bit intimidated by you

Maybe you were from the Undercity or maybe worked as a guard for her or her family

She was closer in age with you out of the rest there

But she was nervous and sorta reluctant to talk to you

Seeing how you were so quiet and you were intimidating as hell compared to the others

But after she got to know you a little bit she warmed up to you a lot more

And after you started dating, she was surprised and happy too after seeing the change

She saw how you were more sweet and soft towards her when you two got together

You did anything for her

And I mean anything

Stood up for her, yelled at dick asshole enforcers for her, got her random things because you thought she would like it

She didn’t like the money spending part, she would rather give you things

But she loved it in all its glory

She loved how she was the only one you were like this to

Like Vi, is smug about it

Gave a little teasing to you also

But don’t take it in a bad way!

She loves it so much

Plus, it’s her favorite romance movie dynamic

She seems ,like a hopeless romantic

So it all works out!

#arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane x reader #reader x arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane vi #arcane violet #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #arcane caitlyn #arcane caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #jinx lol #silco arcane #arcane sevika #arcane reader #arcane reader insert