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honey-tongued-devil · 14 days ago

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Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,”

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

Caitlyn:

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you. She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong. She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it. She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

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catdia · 11 days ago

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Sevika with a Chubby S/o pt.2

Sevika is a very jealous and prideful individual. she doesn’t take kindly to others that try to take you away from her

when Finn tried to get you close to him, she killed half his goons as a warning

teaches you basic self defense, how to use your body as an advantage in combat

ended with both of you making out on the practice mats

gave you a knife and handgun as a birthday present

all your clothing is automatically hers as well. loves wearing your shirts and hoodies when running errands

Sevika has MASSIVE hips, she doesn’t like them that much because pants never fit her waist right. but you love them!

and you also don’t like when pants highlight your underbelly. if she sees your belly in any capacity she’s grabbing that thing like a vice

uses your stuff before you ever get to. that new Piltovan skin care you got? Sevika gives it 10/10

eats all your snacks, even the healthy ones that taste “like cardboard”

the scar on her temple gets sensitive with the cold, uses your tummy as a heating pad when cuddling

one of Sevika’s love languages is bringing you fresh vegetables and fruit she smuggled from overseas

seeing your eyes sparkle in delight as you eat the sweet fruits makes her love her shitty job a little more

she got your nickname “peach” because of your love of fruit (and your fat ass)

if there is a place on earth that can be considered hell is when your periods sync up. Both in pain and grumpy.

when it’s just you, she gives you princess treatment (more than usual). even going as far as making homemade soup

i believe Sevika doesn’t get her period as frequently as she used to. mainly thanks to the amount of Shimmer she uses

Shimmer is the reason you almost had a terrible fall out. it was doing your woman more harm than good. making her extremely aggressive to the point where she threw and broke the matching clay mugs you gave her as an anniversary present. you spent almost two months making them

all of this because you threw away her last Shimmer supply. you just couldn’t she her like that anymore

you sobbed as you collected the pieces of the floor. so preciously putting them on your lap as she just watched in horror. Sevika had never seen you so broken. What had she done?

Sevika kneeled in front of you trying to make everything right. picking up little colorful shards of the floor. but you pushed her onto her feet. you pointed at the door.

“Get out…”

“Peach, please I—“

“Get the fuck out Sevika!”

she spend the next few weeks crashing in Silco’s office. drinking her sorrows away. while going cold turkey of Shimmer

remembering your soft cheeks stained with tears and trembling shoulders. she never had seen you so angry

once she had the courage (and by that I mean Silco and Jinx kicking her out for beign love sick) to come back home, she didn’t grasp how much she actually needed your love

it was a positive sign that you let her in. like a silent “prove me wrong”

you made her sleep on the couch for weeks. ignoring all Sevika’s attempts of affection. walking away when she got too close, not drinking the coffee she made for you in the mornings, covering your body quickly whenever she walked into the bathroom after your showers

Janna, did she miss having your body on hers. having you cuddle her to sleep. now she is stuck in this ratty couch. she missed how you moaned, what you tasted like. Sevika was unbelievably horny

but she needed to wait for you to make the first move out of respect for the pain she caused

when she was sleeping on the sofa you woke her up by grinding your cunt on her thigh. only wearing your night robe. open in the middle, nipples hard and belly creasing on your pelvis. you placed her mechanical arm on your temple. cradling her metal palm with your lips

“Fuck me like you mean it, ‘vika! Make me your woman again.”

Sevika saw the fire in your eyes, and the burn was a prize she was willing to take

you kissed each other hard, clawing at clothing and skin. teeth clashing. every touch was personal. sensual. like a withered plant in water

even if the sun never warmed the underground it didn’t matter to her. because the sun couldn’t ever bring her life like you did

Sevika had never made love before. only saw sex as carnal lust. but having you vulnerable in front of her and having given her forgiveness was the best gift she could have asked for. the gift of hope and chance. she touched you like a lover, a soulmate.

you laid naked on her chest, blissed out in pleasure. in the afterglow of sex. Sevika groping the flesh of your ass. as she blew cigarette smoke into the air. you were going to complain about the smell in the morning.

“I quit Shimmer.”

you smiled into her exposed skin. Sevika was a blunt woman, and you appreciated that part of her.

“Good.”

“Love you, doll.”

“Mmmm — me too Sevika.”

and you definitely made her go to one of those pottery couples classes to replace the mugs she broke

Sevika wasn’t getting off thaaattt easy

#arcane x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane silco #arcane league of legends #arcane #jinx x reader #vander arcane #jayce x reader #jayce talis #viktor league of legends #vi x reader #fat reader #sevika x chubby reader

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salem-witch-slut · 13 days ago

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These Trembling Hands(18+)

Sevika X Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of past sex (very minor), breast fondling (also pretty minor), only rated 18+ because dirty things were mentioned. Pretty tame overall. Brief mentions of SA of a minor (TRIGGER WARNING)

WORD COUNT: 4K (EXACTLY OMGGG)

A/N: This is a sequel fic to my Prostitution kinktober prompt. I loved it too much to hang it out to dry. And damn, you guys are eating that fic up. Over 1K notes in 2 days. Bunch of whores, the lot of ya!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

You had heard rumors of Silco being killed, but that was all you heard of it. You could see from your shitty home terrace deep in the underground of the Undercity. People were scared, things were chaos, and the gangs were at war with each other. Without their leader, the Zaunites were rogue and killed whoever they saw fit. Luckily for you, you weren’t exactly a target as a brothel employee.

It was more valuable to keep you alive, and everybody knew you were loyal to one Zaunite in particular that even after everything, she’s still as powerful as ever. Still a force to be reckoned with, but does not act unless prompted to.

Sevika hadn’t been back to see you since Silco’s confirmed death. You simply assumed she had far too much work to do as the leader of keeping the peace between the gangs. Which was insane, because peace talks were never her job.

You hated to admit it… Oh, fuck that, you would scream it from the rooftops. You missed Sevika so bad. You missed her touch like it was what kept you alive. She saw you nearly every single week before Silco’s death and now the only way you know she’s alive is from the whispers on the streets.

Every day you would come in and hope for her presence, but you were never lucky. You never got to see her handsome face and your body begged for an actual release, or that cool metal from her cybernetic arm. You loved the chills you got from the sharp talon like fingers raking over your rear and leaving marks in your skin.

God, you missed her. You missed her husky voice, how she held you when you came on her fingers, how she encouraged you to bite her, the praise she gave, mixed with degradation… You were addicted to Sevika, and it was embarrassing.

The entire staff knew about your obsession with her. She once left a handkerchief of hers in your room after she used it to wipe the sweat from her face and you kept it. Oddly enough, it smelled just like her and you simply enjoyed having it in your presence. Sevika made you feel wanted. Was that so wrong to love?

You kept it with you all the time. You had it in your pocket even as you walked into work that day.

It was just like any other morning as you entered through the backdoors and got set up in your assigned room that you had, over time, personalized to fit your personality. You had a thing for dark candles and burning herbs that had been known to have relaxing properties. It made your life much, much easier and Babette encouraged it so you wouldn’t need to call out of work once again for your bruised cervix.

You chewed on your thumbnail as you sat yourself down, prepared to get dressed in your signature outfit of dark colors that the clientele loved, when the curtain pulled back to your room without warning. Your entire body went rigid as you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat.

She came back! You tried to not let your excitement show as you stood up from your seat, cursing at your frumpy outfit. Baggy sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt that kept you warm in the dark underground city. Your hair was a mess and you hadn’t done your makeup yet but she barely even blinked as she stood in the doorway.

“S-Sevika, I–” You stuttered, looking at the cloak on her shoulder and then up to her face… Oh, she looked so, so tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, partially bloodshot and her cheek was cracked, evidence from the overuse of shimmer from her cybernetic arm. She had a fading bruise on her brow, and healing cuts over her neck and near her cheeks. “Sevika?”

The tall woman finally made eye contact with you and you watched her toss off her cape and throw it to the floor. You noticed her arm was missing, and there was a frayed wire sticking out of the socket. It looked like it was ripped out of the mechanics on her shoulder as she slowly approached you and made you stumble backwards until your legs smacked into the bed.

Sevika watched you fall onto the bed, your face turning pink as she let out a long, big sigh and got down on her knees. For a second, you thought she was going to eat you out… But then you simply felt her head rest on your thighs and her arm wrap around your waist.

“Sevika, are you–”

“I’m tired,” She said, her voice wavering and cracking. You could smell the alcohol on her body and you could feel your heart almost breaking for her. “I’m so… so tired…”

“Oh honey,” You cooed softly, your hands reaching up and gently rubbing at her scalp. The crime lord visibly relaxed, feeling you remove the hair tie from her brown strands as you slid it on your wrist and raked your fingernails over her head. “You must be just exhausted… You’ve been doing everything out there.”

“Shit never stops,” Sevika pushed her nose into your thigh. “It’s always something… Someone is always getting killed, and I have to fix it. I used to be the one with the blood on my hands, and now I’m cleaning it off someone else’s.”

“I know,” You said, combing your fingers through her hair. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“What I did,” Sevika scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now… It’s just me holding it together.”

Words seem to fail you as you simply rubbed at the back of her neck, one hand sliding from her hair and down the back of her shirt, nails crossing over her skin and making the muscular woman shiver in your hold. This was completely different from what you two had grown used to.

Normally, Sevika would be making you scream at this point. She would stretch you on her fingers and praise you as you pulled on her hair and called out her name like it was the last thing you would ever say. But now? Sevika was too exhausted to do anything… Why was she here then? Why not at her home, sleeping?

You sat there with her for almost ten minutes, simply playing with her hair and rubbing her back. After a while, you could feel her breathing get a bit heavier and you frowned, looking down and seeing how she was almost asleep in your lap.

“Sevika,” You said gently, feeling her hand flex in your shirt as she looked up and then visibly relaxed at seeing your face. You smiled sweetly before scooting back on the bed and removing your sweatshirt. You flopped backwards in your plain white tank top before patting the space next to you. “Come here.”

“Y-You know, this isn’t what I pay for,” Sevika stuttered, her ears going pink for a second. You had never heard her stutter before! It was adorable. You simply rolled your eyes and reached out with both hands, undoing the fasteners on her shirt. The woman’s breath hitched as she went tense for a second, her hand reaching for your wrist out of instinct. “What are you–”

“Just relax,” You spoke softly, reaching up and sliding the shirt from her body down onto the floor. Underneath was a simple black stained shirt with tears near the collar. You scooted back once again and patted the mattress. “How long did you pay for this time?”

Sevika hesitated as she sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching down and undoing the buckles of her boots. “All day?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around her waist. Sevika looked down, used to being able to reach down with her cybernetic arm but now it was simply phantom feelings.

In seconds, you two were crawling into bed as Sevika immediately wrapped her arm around your waist and pushed her head against your soft chest, basking in your warmth and listening to your heartbeat.

If there’s one thing you didn’t expect from today, it was this. You were expecting another hard, rough day with no rest and no breaks between clientele, but this was a very, very pleasant surprise. Your hands stayed put, rubbing at her back and holding her forearm that was draped across your middle. You could feel her breathing become more heavy, and you simply looked down before smiling.

She looked so peaceful… Her lips were parted slightly, the gap in her front teeth more prominent as she breathed heavily, a snore escaping her as she dug her fingers into your side. It was then that you realized something. Something that you definitely should have realized before after all these months with Sevika being your favorite client– No, favorite person.

You felt something for her. It went beyond simple affection or fascination with the woman. It was every time you saw her come in. You felt your heart skip a few beats and you were wrapped up in her arms almost immediately. Sometimes she stops by just for an hour, sometimes she’s here for almost four hours. But no matter how long, she never neglected your feelings.

Sevika was a rough lover, but she was so good at taking care of you, even if her aftercare was slightly condescending. She would wipe you off while calling you a messy whore. She would wrap a blanket around your shoulders while gently slapping your cheek. She would laugh at you as you lay in the pile of pillows on the floor, but still managed to get you water if you asked nicely.

And yet, even after all these months, there was one line you two had yet to cross, no matter how badly you wanted to. It felt too personal… A big jump between client and lover. Sevika couldn’t possibly see you like that. She pays for this. She has never attempted to see you outside of working hours, and you were sure she could easily find you. Not like you went anywhere outside of work and home and the occasional food stop.

The thoughts plagued your mind as you watched her sleep on your chest, seeing her lips move as she mumbled something and pushed her face deeper into your tits. You raked your fingernails slowly over her back, being gentle enough to keep her sleeping, but not so light that it tickled and woke her up. You were fully content with being like this all day long. If she paid for an all day session, this would be more than enough to keep you happy. She didn’t even need to touch you to make you happy. Sevika being here was good enough for you.

As the time went by, you could feel your eyes growing heavy with every passing second. You wanted to close them so bad, but every moment with Sevika felt precious to you. You wanted to kiss her. You had never been able to do that before… you wanted to so badly, it was eating at your soul and making your heart race. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and part of you felt like you would throw up, but it was simply eating at you.

Would she push you away? Would she refuse to come back? Or worse, would she retaliate? It felt like Sevika liked you too beyond just a body to play with, but you weren’t sure… Well, asking was out of the question. You knew words would fail you and you would sit there stumbling on your sentences like a moron. This was your only option.

Very carefully, you slid down the mattress and felt her lift up her head so she could rest it on the pillow as you moved. Sevika made a face of disappointment as she opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to readjust to the soft lighting of the room. From this close, you could see how the candles reflected off her irises and you could see the flecks of purple around the corner from when she would use shimmer.

She stayed quiet, simply looking at you as you slowly reached down and grabbed at her hand. Her brows creased, seeing your slight distress and scooting herself slightly closer. Her body heat had your breath hitching. “What’s wrong, doll?”

Fuck, that nickname made your heart flutter. It felt like a rabbit was kicking at your chest behind your ribs as your hand slid up the length of her arm. You could feel the muscles underneath flexing, almost like she was teasing you on purpose. Her body was solid muscle and all strength; with sharp edges and tough skin. You loved every single inch of her.

“Sevika, I–” You tested your voice, and felt it crack like glass. Your face went pink as the smirk that did reside on her face slowly began to vanish. The silver irises glinted with confusion. She was genuinely concerned now as she saw, and felt your hand shaking as it slid up her arm and carefully rested on her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Sevika asked, her voice barely above a whisper. You blinked slowly, biting your lip before scooting closer.

A moment passed, and you simply couldn’t take it. “Screw it.”

You grabbed the back of Sevika’s neck under her hair and pulled yourself upward, your lips finally connecting with hers. The woman went stiff, her entire body rigid against yours as her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. A noise you had never heard from her before. It made your legs press together as you refused to breathe until you separated from her.

It scratched an itch deep in your brain that you didn’t know was eating at you. It felt like a hot shower after a cold day. It was like breathing after being underwater. It was everything you had expected… Minus Sevika not reciprocating…

When you broke off from her lips, you saw that she was laying there in pure shock. Her eyes were wide and the hand on your hip twitched as you looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. You were worried now. She looked almost upset with you as you refused to meet her gaze, scared of the repercussions.

“I’m sorry,” You said, close to sobbing. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to overstep and I was just– I don’t know what I was–”

Your words were cut off as Sevika gently tucked her knuckle under your chin and tilted your head back up to meet her eyes. And you saw her cheeks tinted a soft pink and her eyes were sparkling. And that was the last thing you saw before she was jolting forward and recapturing your lips like she couldn’t live without it.

Instantly, your hands went around her neck and you pulled her close, drowning in everything that was the woman named Sevika. How intense she was with every aspect of her life and how she gave 100% with all her actions, and that included kissing. Her tongue gently teased at your lips and you responded with your own, pressing it against hers and slipping it passed her teeth.

Sevika groaned, grabbing at your hip and pressing your entire body against hers, allowing you to feel how warm her skin felt on your own. It was like touching a livewire; you couldn’t break away even if you wanted. You couldn’t get enough, and you wanted more. So, so much more…

Your stomach twisted in your gut as you began sitting up off the bed and before you could stop yourself, your legs moved until you were sitting on Sevika’s hips, holding her down and breaking off from the kiss for a brief second.

There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was challenging you. Her brows knitted together as she panted, her hand curling against the bedsheets and her chest rising with each harsh inhale she took. Dear fucking Gods, she was sculpted by deities you didn’t even know existed. Her taut abdomen sucked in with each breath and you saw the outline of her abs through the shirt riding up on her waist.

Maybe someone else would have been put off with her only having one arm, but you didn’t care. It didn’t diminish her strength, and she could fair fine without it. Even with just a hand, she was able to break you and you would thank her.

“Someone’s being bold today,” It was that same flirty condescending tone she used with you all of the time. You ate it up as your fingers traced down her chest, between the valley of her breasts before stopping to trace a few little patterns into the flesh showing below her shirt. You felt her abdomen tremble at your touch, and you smirked. “Get that smile off your face.”

“I can’t help it,” You said, fingers twitching as you reached forward a little more and began sliding her shirt upward to expose her stomach and staring at her chiseled muscles in full view. Your breath hitched and you felt your toes curl up. “So perfect…”

Sevika groaned, putting her hand over her face and covering her eyes. Almost like she was embarrassed of your words, but that would be silly. Sevika doesn’t get embarrassed. She isn’t capable of that. Is she?

The veins almost popped in her forearm as she grabbed her face, feeling your soft, uncalloused fingers stroke along her ribs and slide up even more. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as you breathed hard, licking at your lips. This was a huge moment for both of you.

You had never seen Sevika without a shirt before. Never seen all of her and hardly ever got to touch her like this. You felt like you were in control. This was insane.

“S-Stop me if it’s too much,” You said, voice wavering as you pushed the shirt up the rest of the way. Your insides damn near melted at seeing her breasts for the very first time. You had a feeling it was just as strong as the rest of her, but you didn’t have proof until now. And another suspicion you had? Yes, her nipples were pierced. You fucking knew it.

“You done?” Sevika snapped, looking down at you and narrowing her eyes. You blinked, not realizing just how long you were staring at her until she knocked you out of your stupor. “Not some sideshow attraction here, doll.”

“Really?” You chuckled, reaching up and cupping her breasts with both hands. “Because I think I should be paying to see you.” Your fingers traced over her piercings and Sevika gasped, her body jerking towards your touch like she was desperate for it.

Sevika was a vision. And you were desperate to see more.

It wasn’t long until you were reaching down for her belt and unzipping her pants when she reached out with her hand and grabbed at both of your wrists. You immediately stopped, looking down at her and seeing the wild look in her eyes and how her body was almost on the offensive.

“Wait,” She pleaded. Your heart broke. “Just… just wait, please, give me just a minute.”

“Sevika,” You frowned, releasing her belt and scooting closer towards her. Something was off about this, and you just had to know what was going on. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s just that… I just…” Her entire face fell as she sat up and dropped her head down. Her hair covered her face as you reached forward and pushed it away to look at her. “No one has done that before. I haven’t… let anyone touch me like this.”

“Honey,” You cooed, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Sevika pressed her lips into a thin line and looked up through her lashes, the bruises under her eyes more prominent from this angle. “Talk to me.”

The woman scowled. It was an internal battle for her to admit any of this, especially to you. Sevika knew how you saw her, and this was just crossing some kind of line in her mind. You saw her as a strong, unmovable force that could never be injured or taken down. You saw Sevika as a god, and she was about to shatter that illusion.

“It was when I was a kid,” Sevika admitted. “I was a scrawny little shit, you know? A gutter rat… an easy target,” For a brief second, her eyes watered but she blinked it away. “I didn’t stand a chance back then.”

There was a moment of confusion before the pieces clicked into place and you felt your entire body go rigid. You felt sadness, empathy, compassion… rage. Pure, blood-boiling rage as you pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. You couldn’t show your anger, but you wanted to hunt whoever it was down, and watch them bleed out slowly. How could anybody do that to her? To a child?

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Don’t,” Sevika looked away immediately, her lips curling into an almost snarl as she looked down at the sheets, trying to distance herself. You tried not to flinch as you scooted back in the bed and gave her space. “I don’t tell people shit for that reason. I don’t need pity. I don’t want it either.”

“Okay,” You bit down on your lip, tucking your legs under your body and putting both hands on your thighs. Sevika noticed your sudden change of attitude and she stood up from the bed. Before you could ask what she was doing, she started pacing back and forth, rubbing at her jaw and trying to sort out her thoughts. You sat there silent, scared if you said a word that she would snap and the moment you two shared would be over.

It was almost three whole minutes before she stopped pacing. You felt like you were trapped in a cage with a wild animal. So unpredictable and volatile, but just scared of what you could do to them and they feel the need to defend their existence. Your heart went out to her, and you wish you could take back your actions because now everything was shattered, just as you feared.

“What the hell are we doing?” Sevika muttered into her hand. She turned to look at you and saw that you weren’t looking up at her, and almost like it was happening in slow motion, a tear slipped down and splattered onto your leg. You didn’t look up… until she said your name. Your real name, not a nickname or pet name.

“Look,” Sevika said, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take your face in her hand. You leaned into her touch and held back a whimper. “This all got out of hand… Somewhere between us, the lines started blurring. Went beyond me paying to fuck you–”

“You’re not coming back,” You shivered. Sevika visibly recoiled at your words. “Are you? I ruined this, and now you won’t come back again.”

“Hey now,” The woman immediately grabbed at your chin and forced you to look up. “Don’t put words in my mouth, doll. I never said that.”

You whimpered. “Then… What are you saying?”

A gasp left you as she pressed her lips into yours once again and sighed, her hand tangling in your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck. It was just as fucking amazing as before and you were visibly upset when she broke off.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know? We just… have to keep this quiet, understand?”

“You mean,” You said. “Like a secret?”

“See?” Sevika chuckled before kissing your cheek. “I knew you weren’t dumb, sweetheart.”

#lgbt #lgbtq #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika #my fic #arcane league of legends #arcane #fluff #this is so cute #sevika just needs a fucking hug #that poor woman #give her a break #trigger warning #tw mentions of sa #lesbian character #wlw fiction

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dissapointu · 5 days ago

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💜-MasterList Arcane characters (separately)-💜

💜-Rules-💜

apparently there is a 100 link limit-

All my request go into my drafts folder then I post them throughout the day or all at once-

No one is being ignored <3

JINX

Jinx Dating Headcanons

“Steamy Mischief”

“Electric Touch”

“Overwatch”

“Rest for a Wrecking Ball”

“Listening to the Chaos”

“Blue Like You”

How Jinx Would Comfort You When You’re Sad

How Jinx Would Cuddle with You at Night

How Jinx Would React to an Insecure s/o

How Jinx Would Be Affectionate Toward Her Partner

How Jinx Would Act After an Argument with Her Partner

How Jinx Would Act if Their Partner Got Hurt

Jinx Dating Shenanigans

Jinx x Shy and Quiet Reader Headcannons

“Scatterbrained Kisses”

“Chaos and Comfort”

“Trying out new Things” NSFW

jinx had a girlfriend that was affectionate

Jinx with a Raze (from Valorant) s/o

jinx with a girlfriend who likes to wear short skirts and dresses.

Marked by Chaos (nsfw)

In a mood (angst?)

jinx with a Sick in the head gf

Jinx Fluff

Distracting you

"a good kind of trigger" (nsfw)

Vi Dating Headcanons

Vi imagine

“Ink of Love”

“Lazy Mornings With Vi”

“A Stroke of purple”

“Rom-Com Kisses”

How Vi consoles

How Vi Would Cuddle with You at Night

How Vi Would React to a Clingy Partner

How Vi Would React to a S/O insecure about their weight

“A Quiet Moment”

“Tired of Watching You Hurt”

NSFW: A Ride from Behind

“Silence and Screams”

Vi and a chubby S/o

Rounds (nsfw)

Kitten Chaos

With a werewolf s/o

the ultimate Gift (nsfw)

Vi with a nerdy s/o headcannons

Smut (afab, Nsfw)

SEVIKA

Sevika dating Headcanons

Sevika Dates Headcannons

“A Quiet Night at The Last Drop”

“Lucky Cards”

Sevika x Shy and Quiet Reader Headcannons

“Steel and Softness”

“Steel Wrapped in Warmth”

“Steel Meets Softness”

“Unspoken Bonds”

Sevika with a reader that has more stamina and drive

Sevika with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

Bathing Sevika and her tough walls brake down-

You have a missing arm

VICTOR

VIKTOR RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

Ekko

“Your Touch”nsfw

Movie night in with Ekko (nsfw)

Ekko, in a relationship where he’s younger than his s/o

“Stressed “

Ekko with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

A Steamy Encounter with You (ekko Nsfw)

“In the Glow of Firelights”

Ekko with a Hyperactive Partner

Dating Headcanons for Ekko

patching his wounds.

Smut with a sub Ekko (nsfw)

Taller S/o

Trying to distract the medic

A s/o not used to being touched

Not used to physcial affection s/o

Unyielding (nsfw)

Ekko with a FTM s/o (pretransition)

Silco

Silco with a reader who has a high a high sex drive

Silco, has a reader calling him “daddy.”

Smut (afab, nsfw)

💜-REQUEST GUIDELINES-💜

[opened]

Anything from anything

Any fandom is okay

Angst

Fluff

smut (idk if mind are that good)

-use your common sense

Anything LGBTQ is fine with me

“If it don't hurt nobody it doesn't matter.”

Its a no for morally questionable things

-inscest

-animal gross stuff

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archangeldyke-all · 23 days ago

Note

sev def lays on top of u whenever she makes u mad until you stop being mad

ASDJFPWEWFPJD:LDF this is so fucking funny and cute

men and minors dni

the first time it happens, you and sevika are in your first real fight of your relationship.

sevika had stood you up on a date, only to show up on your doorstep five hours later bloodied and beaten.

the simultaneous sting of rejection mixed with the heartbreak of seeing your love in such rough shape resulted in you angrily patching sevika up in the bathroom, ranting at her as you tended to her wounds.

"b-baby, you know i've got a crazy job. sometimes i come home bloody. some nights i won't be able to come home at all. and you should know by now that i wouldn't fuckin' stand you up without a good reason."

"i know that sevika, which is why i'd fucking appreciate it if you could send a fucking messenger to me next time you gotta bail on our plans! i thought you were dead in a fucking ditch somewhere!" you cry.

sevika blinks, seemingly not having considered this point yet. "oh." she says, her heart breaking a bit as she realizes how worried you must've been. you're always worried about her; pouting when you find new bruises on her body and giving silco dirty looks when he's been treating her poorly, and sevika knows how hard you work to accept her lifestyle and job-- but she can only fucking imagine how scared you must've been for the few hours where she was missing. she'd die if she thought something happened to you.

"did you hit your head at all?" you ask, glaring down at your girlfriend while your hands gently move her head back and forth, studying her pupils.

"no."

"good." you grunt, dropping your hands quickly and angrily packing up the first aid kit. "i'm going to bed. you need to take a bath-- you stink." you spit, storming out of the bathroom.

sevika blinks, the full gravity of her fuck up hitting her-- and then she rushes after you.

you're cursing her out under your breath and slamming drawers as you change into your pajamas.

sevika cringes, desperately trying to think of a way to get herself out of the doghouse. "baby--"

"i don't wanna hear it, sevika. not tonight."

she gulps, and then does the only thing she can think to do.

in three big strides, sevika's pushing you onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. you squeak, then start to squirm underneath her.

"what the fuck are you doing!?" you ask.

sevika shrugs on top of you. "you're angry at me."

"...so!?" you squeal.

"so i'm squishing you until you love me again." sevika says.

you can't help but giggle, smacking her shoulder. "i still love you, jackass, i'm just mad at you."

"so i'm squishing the mad out of you." she says simply. you laugh, your anger slowly melting away at sevika's sweetness. "i'm sorry. really. i didn't-- i didn't even think of how scary that could be for you. i-i'll send someone next time i gotta stay late. i promise."

with the easy way you melt underneath her after that, sevika starts laying on top of you anytime you argue after that, too.

you bitch at her about how she's always letting food crust on her plates in the sink-- she lays on you.

she skips her dentist appointment and gets a cavity and you're pissed when you find out-- she lays on you.

she spoils the end of the book you're reading on accident, and, you guessed it-- she's laying on you until you finally sigh and forgive her.

it's nice. sevika always uses the time on top of you to figure out her words-- figure out a proper apology and something to make it up to you. you like the pressure of her body on top of you-- it helps the firey anger inside you disperse and it's reassuring to know that even when you're pissed at her, sevika's gonna stay with you.

plus, most of the time your arguments end when you start running away from sevika, insisting she don't lay on you this time, and she chases after you, both of you forgetting your grievances to giggle and chase each other around the house.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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dnvrsmedia · 30 days ago

Text

Whatever it Takes

sevika x reader (in canon universe)

there are no physical attributes or gendered language used in this :)

tw: PTSD and death mentioned

hurt/comfort for the fall season! (totally not self indulgent whaaaat)

You comfort Sev after a rough nights sleep

The air felt thick as your eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight peeking through your apartment window. A groan leaves your lips as you root around your bed for your girlfriend. As you come to it, you recognize what the cool sheets on your bed signifies. Sevika is missing from your bed for the third time this week. Many who didn’t know her would assume that she was back in her old stomping grounds, messing around with Babettes girls. Yet, you knew her better than anyone else, better than she knew herself.

You roll out of bed, leaving the comfort of your sheets and the smell of your lover. As your feet padded through your shared home, the sound of a whiskey glass hitting the coffee table filled your ears. Your first thought was annoyance at her inability to use a coaster (you think she does it just to fuck with you). Your soon second thought was questioning why she was up this early on her off day. Silco was kind enough to let her take a few days off…well after you had given him a very stern talking to. Sevika swears that the only thing he’s scared of would be you.

As you turn the corner, you see your lover hunched over her strong legs. Her chemtech arm off for the night, leaving her residual limb in the open. Her hair is down and in her face, not even caring that she can’t see well. Her flesh arm balancing a cigarillo and a whiskey glass, interchanging between vices. Her distant stare tells you she’s had a nightmare. Her staggering breath and deep frown tells you that she’s in her head. Sevika’s PTSD symptoms ebbs and flows with her day to day life. The fast pace and graveness of her line of work distracts her from the horrors that plague her mind in the quiet of the night. Yet, tonight, it seemingly has caught up to her.

A deep sigh leaves your mouth as you bite the corners of your lip, scouring your mind at what could’ve triggered her. The night before was filled with laughter and love between the two of you. The softer, less brute side of Sevika shone brightly through her hardened exterior. The side she only let you see.

You take a seat right next to her on your shared couch.Your arm moves to her hair, swiping her blunt locks away from her line of sight, tucking them behind her ears. A short grunt leaves her lips as a sign that she’s aware of your presence. When Sevika gets in these moods, you know better than to pester her to talk. She has seen and experienced horrific things, many of which you mightn’t even know. So when she feels comfortable in sharing even a sliver of her life, you let her at her own pace.

The pair of you sit in comfortable silence as your fingertips trail invisible figures across her body. You’ve learned through your relationship, keeping an aspect of constant physical touch in moments like these, keep her grounded. What makes you so different from all she’s mess with before is your attention to detail. You constantly find ways to keep her from disconnecting further into her pain, especially on days like these.

“He was there.” She kept her gaze distant and hard.Your hand squezees hers as an act of encouragement.

“I was a kid again and he-“ Her chest rises as her breath quickens, cheeks flush with anger. You rub her shoulder in hopes to calm her nerves. You knew Sev had a tumultuous relationship with her father growing up. Brief stories of her youth had slipped through during druken nights shared between you two, but that was the bulk of your understanding. You never thought to cross the boundary of asking how that came to be. A clearing of her throat brought you back to her as her eyes grossed over. A thick swallow of her throat and a shake of her head was enough to keep her emotions at bay.

“It’s been uh, difficult this time of year. Ya know it would’ve been ma’s birthday.” A glimpse of a bittersweet smile can be seen on her face. A surprised expression dawned yours. You thought Sev speaking of her dad was rare! She’s never once mentioned her mother to you in the past years you’ve known her.

“She would’ve loved you, i know it.” A smile couldnt be held back this time. Her distant stare broke as she looked into your eyes.

“I hate that stupid sappy shit you’re into-“ You giggle and slap her arm.

“But, I knew that ma sent you for me the second that I met you.” A shy and bashful smile adorned your lovers face as she nuzzles her nose into her favorite spot, your neck.

You feel your heart explode at her words. Sevika easily has been your most romantic lover (although she likes to downplay it to herself). You cup her strong jaw into your palm and kiss her. You hope every single ounce of your passion, love, and emotions can be felt by her through your lips. Sevika melts into your kiss, allowing for her tense body to relax in your touch.

Being vulnerable is hard for her, she knows that. She sometimes wonders if life hadn’t been so cruel in the undercity, if her father had cared for her…if her mother never died, how different her life would’ve been. Would she have given her life over to the cause? Would she have been something other than a soldier? Or would she still just be a cog in Silcos rebellion? Would she have found things that she liked? Would she have a hobby that didn’t include death and destruction? Would she have kids with you? Would she be less fucked to bring a child into the world and actually be a good mother? All of these were thoughts that had plagued her mind the moment she had gotten woken up by that nightmare.

And yet, here she is, unable to express the flurry of emotions to you. So…kissing will do. She’ll connect your bodies until you’re one so you can feel the deep connection she feels for you. She will be your fiercest protector and keep living for you. For you, have given her a new meaning, a new spark. She’ll keep fighting for Zaun, fighting for you so you will be able to have the life she dreams for you.

You part with her for a second before her lips chase you down. Her flesh arm reaching for you, holding onto your body like she fears if she doesn’t you’ll disappear. You climb onto her lap in one swift motion, needing to become one with her.

“I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere, Sev. I love you.” You stare into her eyes, into her soul. You need her to know that you will never leave her like her loved ones did.

Her steele eyes widen with appreciation and deep appreciation.

“Baby I-I love you. I will do everything to make Zaun the place you deserve.”

Your heart aches at her confession. No, it’s not the first time you’ve said those words to each other, but it is few and far between. Sevika shows you in your day to day just how much she loves you, so you never felt insecure in her loyalty to you. Yet, your heart aches for her. Your heart aches for the pain and the suffering that she’s endured and continues to experience. Your heart aches for the fact that you know she believes she doesn’t deserve good, that she doesn’t deserve you.Your revaluation turns a light within you.

“As long as I'm alive I will spend my days showing you how worthy you are.” You caress her strong jaw and place a kiss on her forehead.

You’ll do whatever it takes.

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sylvanas-girlkisser · 4 months ago

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Also watching all those arcane reaction vids have made it abundantly clear how unused people are to see fatherly affection, in anything but the most idealized form.

"If Silco isn't grooming Jinx, how come he's got this scantily clad teenage girl crawling all over him?" You may have missed it my dude but there was a whole show leading up to and following that moment.

Silco is never shown to encourage her to dress a certain way, or in other ways control her appearance - in fact his entire deal is encouraging her to be her most authentic self, see him repeatedly telling her "you're perfect", or the fucking cup she made for him that he keeps in his office despite it entirely ruining his carefully maintained image.

And the whole "crawling all over him"? oh geez, yeah its not like the show makes a huge point of showing how Jinx is both incredibly touchy, and struggles with understanding social boundaries.

"Why doesn't Silco tell her its inappropriate?" Because, and I don't know if you missed it, its a pretty minor theme in Silco's character arch: He can't say no to her! No matter the consequences to himself or his criminal empire, Silco can never say no to, or in any way disappoint Jinx, cause she's his little girl and he wants to give her all the love and affection he never got and the whole world too!

#silco #jinx arcane #league of legends #arcane #truly the dad who stepped up

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solar-eclippse · 4 months ago

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I keep thinking about the way that Arcane!Jinx's loved ones all have different attitudes about how she's changed.

Ekko's view of her is bitter, full of grief. "This is what you have become and I hate you for it, but I can't stop thinking about what might have been if you hadn't. I can't get you back, and I miss you. I had a crush on you, until you started talking to the gun."

Vi's view of her centers around denial. "You've changed but I refuse to accept it. I know that you're still the little girl I loved as a child. Give me a chance and I'll help you see it", ignoring the fact that no one stays the same since childhood. I also think Vi idolized Powder a bit, seeing her as this epitome of innocence despite the fact that she made nail bombs - maybe she hasn't changed as much as Vi thinks she has.

And lastly, Silco's view of her is full of twisted pride. "You are just like me, and you are the person I wish I could have been when I was your age. I created you, made you the person you are today, and you are perfect". I refuse to think he's not projecting on her something fierce. He loves her for the person she is now, but I don't think he would have loved the child the other two miss so much.

I know I'm not saying anything groundbreaking here, but I just think it's interesting.

#sunny.txt #arcane #jinx #jinx arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #vi #vi arcane #silco #silco arcane #this isn't a ship post but i'll tag it anyways #timebomb #ekkojinx #vijinx #jilco

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ink-and-dagger · 1 year ago

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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.”

#rumpled mess deep throating a 20 pack of cigs rn FUCK ME #study you’re a magical fuckingn being you know thag literally how do you do it #I think this might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read #you out did yourself like holy fuck #just fuckingn stunning #the way you eek up the tension little by little #nourishing those small moments like the lighter in the pocket #GOD #you are like a Michelin star chef of WORDS and HORNINESS #I’ve missed penance so much but holy hell this was worth the wait and then some #there are actually no words to fully convey my feelings #only two hours of velociraptor-like screeching could even come close #I feel like I’ve just had the best most filthy lingerie clad sex of my life yet I’m simply sat on my sofa in my grandma cardigan whilst #waiting for my chicken goujons to finish cooking #you TRANSPORT #genius masterful there are simply not enough compliments #bra-fucking-va #god I haven’t felt like that reading fic in a long long time #I think you might have just made me fall in love with reading again #silco #penance #father silco #FIC REC #FIC REC OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE #ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY STUDY 💜

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piggycyberwarrior · 4 months ago

Text

How the Arcane Characters would react to a smart!s/o

a/n: hey guys so yeah.. i am backkk. love you all and pls request or talk to me if you want <3 don't be shy!!

Contains: Viktor, Vi, Ekko, Silco, Jinx

Disclaimer: Okay so i know people can be smart without reading books- but reading online articles or there are different reasons BUT there is no "world wide web" in the Arcane Universe. That is why the reader's a massive bookworm-kinda-smart person (?)

warnings: itsy bitsy teenie tiny mention of mature themes (turn on; feral) but NO further description; mentions of kissing (?), goofy Jinx (like what did you expect T-T) not proof read

let me know if i missed any warnings!!

Viktor

LOVES IT

like really he would be so thrilled to have a smart partner

would constantely go to the library with you- buying old science books or books about stuff that you like to read.

^ he never lets you buy them tho <3

Asks you when there are some issues with his work.. like this is such an honour (my bby has some issues when it comes to asking for help)

Viktor would always and I mean ALWAYS compliment you

-"look at my smart darling"

He just feels understood and so comfortable with you as you are on the same wavelenght as him

Loves to hear you ramble to him about the most random things at night, during walks, breakfast, in the morning, just simply at anytime

peppers your whole face with kisses while you ramble to him in the morning- loves to make you laugh, giggle or chuckle

Also adores it to have deep conversations with you

He just loves you<3

it would turn her on so much to be honest

like its so attractive (fr guys)

she would listen to you all the time, rambling and or reading to her- even tho she doesn't understand shit sometimes

loves it when you put her in her place when she did something stupid

also loves that you are a walking wikipedia

"Cupcake, what do you mean the dot over the "i" has a name??"

- " yeah its called the tittle or superscript dot- not only the dot over the i but also the dot on top of the j"

"WhAt?"

would constantely brag about you to EVERYONE like its almost embarrassing stopp vi please

used to steal you books from Piltover (still does it to be honest)

sometimes asks you if that one random fact she heard was true

loves to kiss you after you answered her question- as a price for being this smart <3

Ekko

lmao i don't know why but Ekko is such a sucker for intelligent/smart people

like dis man would be on his KNEES for you.

he would be always crafting stuff with you, always making sure you've got a new book in your hand, always kissing the ground you walk on

he wastes no time getting you anything that you need for your studies, crafts or freetime.

Has no shame- will show you off to EVERYBODY ON THIS GOD DAMN PLANET (like Vi)- especially to his teammates tho

loves loves LOVES to spend time with you and teach him the things you know or learned

"So the Midas effect is about people becoming more generous after a simple touch?" "Exactely, but the effect isn't scientifically proven- its just an assumption." "I see.."

also loves your fascination for knowledge

I'm sorry but he would go absolutely feral when he sees you teaching stuff to the small kids in the HQ.

it would make him so happy ngl

He would kiss you after that everytime- praising you that you're so smart

Silco

he would think it's so hot

Lets you read or craft in his office so he can watch you

^ it calms him

i don't think he would brag about you but he would be so proud of you neverthless

tells you that too

isn't stupid himself so he sometimes reads the books you enjoyed reading- he does that because he wants to know what you're talking about- never admits that tho

"What are you reading, handsome?- "Oh.. History of the World- it's quite interesting" you looked at him dumbfounded but quickly smiled "It really is interesting- the text structur is just beautiful!" you happily cheered

he loves it when you ramble to him at night- him laying on your chest and softly carding your fingers through his hair i love this man

just stares at you with that unreadable hot gaze of his when you start mumbling to yourself about some equations.

doesnt look all that dazed but on the inside he is GONE!!

he is so in love

grabs your chin and turns it to his face- pressing your lips onto his. Loves how you squeal- suprised that he interrupted your train of thought

Jinx

she adores it SO MUCH

constantely wants you to talk to her like she sits there- criscrossed, head resting in her palms- listening as if she has nothing else to do.

always wants you to tell her anything that you learned

^ she deadass throws a tantrum if you don't

only really listens to you- thinks you are always right

just like her sister- you have to keep her from doing stupid stuff

^ you cannot tell me she wouldn't do anything stupid lmao

decorates your book covers and doesnt know why you're so stressed everytime she does it (like thats a no-no , darling pls)

like thats so weird and all but she loves to read Picture books while you read Aristotle- just to feel the vibe

"How is your book?" you asked her with a raised eybrow while flipping to the next page- hearing her hum as she was reading that picture book. "Oh it's great, pudding- the ducks finally found their home!!"- "Really, that's good to hear" you chuckled softly

gives you suprise kiss-attacks when you're absorbed in your work

brags to sevika how smart her s/o is but gets jealous when others tell you that you're smart like gurl?

please do reblog, sweetheart <3

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not-rigel · 7 days ago

Text

Always take care of you

Rating: E

warnings: butch4butch, brothel, smut, switch sevika, fingering r! recieving, cunnilingus r!recieving, edging, praise kink, use of "good boy", riding, emotional sex, aftercare, lets hope i'm not missing anything important

A/N: this is written to be read as butch4butch but i tried not to use many descriptors for reader. butches i love you sm and you deserve a sweet treat

WC: 6.1k!!!! (im sorry i got so fucking carried away)

It’s been weeks since the news of Silco’s death spread across Zaun. Silco's death left a massive power vacuum in the Undercity, displacing several people in the following turf wars, yourself included. You moved deeper into the Undercity, following the demands for your services. Where there's power, demand for sex is right behind.

Your line of work is rewarding, monetarily and emotionally. It was something that was suggested to you long ago. Not quite in the way some of the other workers you've encountered were. You had always liked to support and service others. You liked validating people in ways they never understood they needed. If you could help someone through their struggles and be told “I needed this. Thank you.” you were happy. So when a friend mentioned that sex work is another way to help others, you didn't need much time to think it over.

It took a few days to find work again at The Gardens. The atmosphere was a little different than your original brothel but a brothel nonetheless. The clientele here was more diverse. You were surprised at the range of people who walk through the doors. There would be couples looking to spice up their love life. Released prisoners that struggle to transition back into life and dating. Even overlords who are overworked without time for dating. It is beautiful to see all the people coming in, bonding over sex.

Despite the clientele being diverse, the workers weren't quite as varied. Even with having several men working at The Gardens, you were the most masculine person working there. All the men were pretty, long eyelashes and high cheekbones. All the women were showstopping, dressed head to toe in sparking fabrics and adorned with accessories. And it is fine with you to not be “pretty”. You preferred the masculine pet names and compliments. It ended up working to your advantage, attracting femme clients.

You're ten hours into your shift with a little over two hours left to go. You have a new client that paid for a full hour and your final hour is still unbooked. It's all fine by you, having made more than enough money tonight.

The time you have between sessions passes quickly and you smooth over your clothes before walking over to your designated room. All you know about your next client is her name, Sevika, that she is trying to band the Undercity together and is rumored to be phenomenal at sex. Naturally, gossip occurs at brothels so it's not uncommon for you to know a few facts behind each name.

You arrive at the curtains that separates the room from the hall, pinching the fabric and pulling it open enough to enter. Her aura is what you notice first. She sits legs spread on the sofa. It's a power pose, dominant and in charge. The more you take in her appearance, the more excited you feel. There have been several times you have found yourself attracted to your clients and she was incredibly attractive. She's the most masculine woman you've had as a client. Sharp jaw, short hair and thick eyebrows. For a moment you wonder if she is aware of who she's booked. You attracted the femme crowd exclusively.

She looks you over, hand coming up to cover her mouth. There's a glimmer of a smile in her eyes, a sparkle so quick you almost miss it. So maybe she is aware of what she's paying for.

To Sevika, you were a dream brought to life. It was how you dressed, how you held your posture, your hands, your expressions. Small little things that gave the masculine vibe. Babette wasn't fucking kidding when she told Sevika she'd “recently hired someone that was just your type.” She's been a regular at the brothel for years. Each pretty, glittering face blending together over the years. Your face couldn't blend in even if Sevika tried.

You take in a breath to ask her how she wants to proceed but she beats you to it “I want a contract.” she says simply, cutting straight to the point.

You pinch your eyebrows in confusion, “What?”

This was an odd request. Contracts, or sexual agreement forms, were usually reserved for workers with regular clients. When clear boundaries needed to be placed for the complex dynamics in a long term relationship. They leave no space for uncertainty. Knowing exactly what your clients want also rids the need to ask every time.

Sevika shakes her head, breathing out a little laugh-like huff through her nose, “A contract. Where we'll go over preferences then agree and sign.”

“I know all that I am… confused. You're not my regular,” you explain.

“Gotta start somewhere. Don't see any point in waiting. I want a contract with you,” she says it so sincerely, looking you right in the eyes as she does.

Your heart flutters a little. It seems like she is attracted to you, unless you're misunderstanding her demand for a contract. Everyone at The Garden's told you contracts were a big deal but Sevika will be your first.

“Okay. Um, I have to get them from Babette's office. Will that be alright?” you ask, not wanting to leave her alone while she is paying for your services.

“Go, I’ll be here,” she grants, nodding toward the curtain.

“Alright. I'll be right back.”

“And bring two,” she calls out before you leave.

“You need an extra copy?”

“No.”

You want to ask what she means but with each minute that passes without servicing her, the more guilt settles in. You leave the room, rushing to Babette's office to complete Sevika’s request. Babette is shocked to see you when you draw open the curtain to her office.

“Aren't you booked with Sevika, hon? No one comes to my office during her sessions. Is everything alright?” Babette asks.

“She requested a contract. Asked for an extra copy too” you tell her.

Babette is taken aback, not shocked for the same reasons you were. She expected Sevika to take a little longer with you from nerves.

“I honestly thought that girl would take a few visits to make a contract with you. I told her she'd like you,” Babette rambles as she retrieves the documents from her cabinet. She hands you the papers with a couple of pens.

“Good luck, hon. She's got a lot going on right now. But I'm sure you can handle her.”

You don't question what Babette could be referring to. Leaving the room, you thank Babette from over your shoulder. You rush back to Sevika’s room, hoping you can still make the most of your limited time.

“I hope you weren't waiting too long,” you say as you reenter the room. Sevika smiles at you, not hiding it this time. It's a crooked smirk, confident and laid back. The only thing giving her away was her picking at her cuticles.

“Not at all.” She pats the vacant spot next to her on the sofa.

You take a seat, leaving about two inches of space between you and hand her both contacts. You usually avoided initiating physical contact with your clients, letting them make the first move. You wanted your clients to be comfortable and initiate on their own terms. Sevika scoots over to close the small distance between you, pressing her thigh against yours. You return the press, leaning your shoulder into her as well. She is incredibly warm, heat diffuses from her skin into yours. The heat spreads past your shoulder and thighs, dissolving across your entire body with electric buzzing.

“I should be honest and say I haven’t had a client with a contract so this process is new to me. I promise that I’ll do my best to service you accordingly” you tell her.

“I kinda assumed you haven't had one before. With you being new here and all. I'll walk you through it.”

You chuckle, “You shouldn't have to. It's my job.”

“It's our contract. We'll do it together. First page,” she counters, clicking her pen. She hands one of the contracts to you. Using her thigh as a writing surface, she prints her name at the top of the page.

“Answer for yourself. Not what you think I'll like,” she says, filling in her dynamic preferences.

“You mean…?” your words trail off. This is an odd request. Contracts were meant so the workers always know what their clients want. Your wants aren't meant to me on the contract at all.

“I want you to fill out your wants and your boundaries. More than that, I want you to not think about my wants,” She taps her pen against the page before speaking again, “You probably get it… people assuming that we're automatically tops and dominant because we're butch. I don’t know about you but I sometimes feel stuck in a box.”

You do get it. The assumption that your masculinity automatically translates into authority. The assumption that you didn't need softness too. The feeling that all people see when they look at you is a woman trying to be a man. You're beginning to understand her, what being at The Gardens means for her. The first piece of the puzzle has been set on the table.

“I get it,” you snort and smile at her, “I completely fucking get it.”

You make a show of clicking your pen and printing your name at the top of the page. The sexual agreement is several pages long, listing roles, acts, kinks and terms and conditions.You fill out your forms together. It's the calmest you've felt in a long time.

“You finished the first page yet?” Her thigh pushes against yours again.

“Yup.” you turn over to the next sheet and nudge her back.

You've made it to the second to last page of the contract, checking off the last box in the fetish section. The bottom of the page says all involved parties must review the agreement together before proceeding to the final page.

“Ready to review?” you ask, even though you heard Sevika flip her contract back over to the first page two minutes ago.

“I'm ready. And just cross out anything you don’t like. I won’t mind.”

You swap contracts, and you work on memorizing all of her preferences. Sevika has checked off switch and masochist in the dynamics area. As for sex acts, several of the options have been checked off. The ones you make an effort to commit to memory are vaginal intercourse, anal intercourse, fingering, body worship, cum eating, finger sucking, edging, orgasm control, bondage, sensory deprivation, nipple clamps, biting, scratching, hair-pulling. All checked for receiving and giving. You write a slash through anything you don’t want to do.

“Can I get you to fill this one out a bit more?” Sevika hands you back your contract, where she’s circled ‘praise kink’, “I want you to add some phrases or what you like to be called.”

Sevika works fast, on the kink and fetish page already. You take a break from reading over her contract to amend yours. You write “good boy” “perfect” and “you’re doing so good” into the margin. She takes the contract back, eyes widening as she reads what you’ve written. She risks a glance at you, seeing that you’re watching her.

“You probably haven’t made it to that page yet but… we got a lot in common,” she chuckles.

“I can’t wait.”

Sevika doesn’t look away, and you let her hold eye contact.

“Can you sit on my lap?” She requests, it's spoken in a whisper. Like she is afraid to ask at all.

“Yes. Anything,” you assure her. You stand from your spot, slowly moving to settle onto her lap. You sit on her thigh and she hooks her flesh arm under your knees and rests them onto her other thigh. Her mechanical arm supports your lower back. You read over the kinks and fetishes page as her head rests on your shoulder. She was right to say you have a lot in common, every kink is aligned with yours. You see at the bottom of the page, where there is a bit of black space, Sevika has written in “Aftercare is necessary and non-negotiable.” You put a little checkmark next to it.

“Finished. Anything you want to discuss before we sign?” you ask.

“What were your no’s?”

You tell her where your preferences did not align and she takes the news admirably well. She made no changes to your contract. Together, you flip to the final page, filling out your names on both copies. Sevika uses your thigh as a surface to sign. When you’re done she takes your contract and sets them somewhere on the sofa.

“Well there's about ten minutes left in my hour. We can just sit here,” she lays her head onto your shoulder, face nuzzling your neck. Somehow she has even more warmth to offer, hot breath melting past your skin and muscles and bones. Warmth moves through you in a way that doesn't feel physical.

“I dont have anyone booked next hour,” you groaned. You cupped the back of her head with one hand, feeling the soft, buzzed hairs of her undercut. You pull her face in closer, so she can warm you even more.

“Is that flirting or good salesmanship?” she whispers against your skin.

“Flirting.”

“Thanks,” she laughs, “But I won’t be able to tonight. Tight schedule.”

“Then what do we do with your time?”

She cups your jaw, your chin resting in her palm. You lean your face into her hold, waiting for her to make the next move. Her fingertips twitch, another tell that she’s nervous. Another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. You look into her eyes, trying to find her. To know her.

“I want you to kiss me,” her voice trembles as much as her fingers on your cheeks. You hear the meaning in the words. It's not that she wants to kiss, it's that she wants to be kissed.

You nod, slanting your face closer to hers. You feel the tingle, that bit of warmth only Sevika gives you when you touch, as you close the distance. You lips meet hers in a soft kiss, her hand that was on your jaw trailed to the back of your neck and her thumb strokes the nape of your neck. You reposition your legs, swinging them over her thighs to straddle her. Sevika moans and pulls you closer, closing the space left between you. Her breast presses into yours, pushing into you with each breath.

You want to make her melt beneath you, kiss her until she knows softness like she’s never known it before. With the hand that’s cupping her head, you card your fingers through the short strands of her hair. Each tender press of your lips against her made her shudder and sink into the sofa. Each kiss gave you more pieces to the puzzle you’ve been fitting together all night. There are still pieces missing but you start to see the image. Sevika is soft. Sevika is emotional. Sevika is passionate. It's a passion that's been simmering, waiting to be reheated to the boiling point.

“Sevika,” you whisper against her lips, “All that beauty you have inside… Let it out.”

She trembles as she pulls you back to the kiss. She let out a soft moan as her eyes fluttered beneath her lids, your kisses making her skin prick with goosebumps. Your fingers running through her hair felt so comforting. Sevika loved giving pleasure for years, something she knows she's good at. Something she used to box herself into doing for years.

With Zaun on course for war, Sevika lost so much. It's why she went to the brothel in the first place. Needing somewhere to go to make Piltover stop existing. But somehow during the years she dedicated her life to Silco, she became so focused on one goal to see her through every decision she made, all her other wants got pushed away. She forgot how long it's been since she’s been shown tenderness. She forgot how long it's been since she was something other than a brute. In all the years of coming to the brothel trying to escape the knowledge of her life, she never escaped being Silco’s goon. But right now she is in your arms and you are kissing her with tenderness and care and beauty. You’re kissing her the way she deserves.

You’re startled by a bell, the timer on the wall meant to let you know your session has finished. Against your wants, you separate yourself from her. You cannot begin playing favorites and go against the rules for Sevika.

“I’m sorry but after the bell I cannot service you any further. But I can walk you out,” you offer, not quite ready to depart.

Sevika is catching her breath, staring at you with soft, sparkling eyes. It's the look you always strive for from your clients. The look that someone’s felt intimacy after having lost it. She's so beautiful it makes it so hard to follow the rules.

“Come on. Gotta get you outta here or I’ll have to start charging you,” you urge.

“Sorry” she stutters, still panting.

“It’s okay. It’s my responsibility to keep track of the time and give you time to recover. This is on me,” you tell her.

Sevika stands, struggling to maintain balance. She walks to the curtain, turning to give you one last glance.

“That was perfect. Wouldn’t want my hour any other way,” she thanked.

“Good. You’re welcome, Sevika.”

You walk with her to the door and watch as she disappears into the streets. For the first time, Sevika leaves the brothel without at least some level of grinding. This was the least sexual encounter she's had to pay for. But it's the most fulfilled she’s ever felt afterward. She feels whole and at peace.

It's been almost one day since Sevika’s first session. Almost 24 hours since you kissed her like she is the most beautiful person in the world. The day was slow for you, just three clients so far. Most of your day was spent planning outfits and reviewing your next week's schedule. You sigh as it looks like you'll also spend your last two hours trying to pass time when Miguel taps you on the shoulder.

“Your last two hours have been booked,” he informs you, “Sevika.”

Your heart reacts before you do. Outwardly, you nod and thank him. On the inside, you can feel the ghost of Sevika's warmth.

“Is she here now?” You try not to sound excited but Miguel sees through you. It's an expected reaction, he's even seen girls jump with joy when he tells them they're booked for Sevika.

“The gold room,” he says, tilting his head toward the hallway.

You thank him again and speed walk down the hall, shoving the curtain open when you arrive. Sevika is sitting on the circular bed in the middle of the room, fingers tracing over the quilt.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly. She reaches her hand out, and you walk over to her and take it. She pulls you in to straddle her lap, needing to recreate the moment from last night. She is even warmer than you remember. Her head buries into your shoulder and she swears it's remolded to fit her head perfectly.

“I left here the best I've felt in a long time. I need that feeling again,” she confesses into your shoulder.

“I'll do everything to give you that feeling again. Is there anything you want specifically?”

“I want you. Wanna see what happens in the moment.”

You support her jaw in your hand and tilt it toward you to pull her into a kiss. Sevika immediately pushes into the kiss, lips desperately moving against yours. There's something different today, something that begs for more than tenderness. You kiss her, trying to pull away at what she wants.

Sevika groans into your mouth, and your tongue slides into her mouth, tasting her. You don't push far, waiting for her reaction. She grabs your hips with her right hand. She seems to favor it, which is understandable considering her mech hand is a giant claw. She flips the two of you over, pressing you down into the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and Sevika climbs over to straddle your hips.

“Sorry I just… I want you so much,” she groaned, leaning down to trail her lips across your jaw before moving down and kissing your neck. Then a soft bite, followed by gently sucking on the skin she bit. She needs you.

“Never apologize. I want this just as much,” you moan beneath her, loving the switch between needy Sevika that pleads to be kissed and desperate Sevika that takes what she needs. You tangle your fingers into her hair, holding her against your neck. She continues to lick and kiss at your skin, switching back and forth between firm and soft kisses.

After a few minutes, her fingers dig under the hem of your shirt, pulling it from your skin. You part from the kiss to give her a nod, lifting your back off the bed so she can pull your shirt off. She stares down at you and her mind is at war with itself. She wants to jump right in with you, know what it's like to feel this closeness paired with the euphoria of sex. She also wants to savor kissing you.

“Sevika, finish what you started please,” you shiver, dissatisfied with only having your shirt off while she stares at you with hungry, lustful eyes.

She complies, stripping off the rest of your clothes, kissing the skin she exposes as she removes each garment. All of her kisses have left enough intimacy and warmth to last you a lifetime. But your night is far from over.

“Strip me,” Sevika gasps, hauling you up off the bed to stand with her. You carefully remove her clothes, peeling back layer after layer. Sevika is covered in muscles, her skin barely restraining them. Scars split her skin, some cutting into her skin. Others discolored and raised. All of her is exquisite. Even though you’re the worker and she is the client, you find yourself needing her. You need her to touch you.

You grasp her hand and lead her back to the bed. You guide her so the two of you kneel at the center of the bed. You guide her hand, sucking two fingers into your mouth, wetting them before trailing them down your torso. You trace her wet fingers to your cunt then release her hand and she feels over your folds. Her fingers pass over your clit before moving down to enter you. She slides one long finger into you and you grip her shoulders, whimpering for her. Her finger pumps inside of you, against the sensitive spot within, and she feels you flutter and clench in response. Each pump wettens her fingers even more and makes an obscene, sinful sound.

“Another,” you whine, needing as much of her as you can get.

Sevika obeys and another finger enters you, sliding in easily. She moves her fingers in and out at a slow place, building the tension higher and higher. Making your skin grow hotter and hotter. Everytime she fully inserted her fingers back into you, you cannot help but gasp.

“You feel so perfect,” she praised you as she kept thrusting her long fingers. Your brain melts a little from the praise. Her fingers moved faster and you began to roll your hips desperately. You still moan in time with her thrusts, occasionally chanting out a little “uh uh uh fuck yes”. You feel your orgasm creeping up on you and so does Sevika.

“We didn’t talk about it but.. Do you wanna cum now or can I edge you?” she gasps, still fucking her fingers into you.

You feel a tingle run through your body, dizzying you with lust, “Yes. please,” you mewl.

“Tell me when you’re close,” she huffs. She thumbs over your clit, rubbing the bud in circles as her fingers curl inside you. She reacts to each of your moans, thrusting harder when you choke out a gasp. Your orgasm continues to build, pleasure layering inside of your waiting to topple down.

“Almost there, Sevika. Please,” you whine, grasping her shoulders. He quickens her thumb’s circling of your clit and it pushes you closer to release.

“I’m going to cum!” you cry, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Sevika removes her fingers and you feel yourself being placed back on top of the cliff the moment before you fall. The tension she’s built retreats in a way you’ve always found addicting.

“Good boy,” she coos, lifting her hand up to press her fingers to your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and you groan at the praise. With one hand you grab her wrist and with the other you cup her neck. You shove her fingers into her mouth instead, pushing her head further onto her hand.

Sevika shuts her eyes, savoring the taste and feeling of her fingers on her tongue. You see her eyes roll back beneath her lids. She licks all of your arousal away, tongue swirling over her fingers. Too soon the taste is gone and she is left wanting more. You gave her so many things to want.

She pushed you, your back hitting the bed. She spreads your legs and you quickly recover from being edged, ready for her again. As she lays down between your thighs, you grip her hair, leading her to your waiting cunt.

Sevika wastes no time, burying her face between your thighs. Her tongue parts your folds, licking up to flick your clit. She lifts her head to reposition and you see the string of spit that connects you. She dips back down, sucking on your labia. The world tilts, leaving you hanging onto her for dear life. She explores you with deliberate slowness, licking over every twitch of your clit. Your hips push forward to get more of her mouth on you. She responds immediately, her tongue flicking in just the right way. Another orgasm begins to build as she sucks and kisses your clit.

“I’m almost there,” you warn her, in case she wants to edge you again.

Sevika doesn’t relent, and you try to hold on. You can feel it in her touch, each kiss to your folds, she wanted you to let go. She wants you to enjoy her, not as a client but as herself. Sevika felt the moment you relented, relaxing your hips so she could grab and pull you where she wanted. Your body trembles and your breaths are ragged as she builds you up again, carefully layering your orgasm up to be perfect. And it is.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth when you begin to wail. You back arches off of the bed but Sevika holds your hips in place. Your other hand leaves her hair to clap over your mouth, both hands muffling your cries.

Your orgasm is like the tiny rays of light that manage to make it to the Undercity. The sparkling proof that life will find you in the oddest places. Tears pour from your eyes as the light consumes you. Usually your clients are the one that cry, the vulnerability of sex catching up with them. It was always beautiful to you, seeing their humanity come out. But you never experienced it yourself. The flood of safety and joy. You always told your clients that crying after orgasm is nothing more than a fleeting reaction. But this was not fleeting. The tears were just the tip of the iceberg of yourself that were begging to be explored.

When your orgasm ends and your body relaxes into the bed, Sevika crawls up your body, kissing you with your cum. Her mouth and nose are covered in your slick and she spreads it over your face as she kisses you. She cups your cheeks and wipes your tears away.

“Now you know how I felt,” she whispers against your lips.

“Please, I need to make you feel that way. I need to give it to you,” you plead. She cannot give you the most beautiful orgasm in the world and not let you return the favor.

“You don’t need to try. You already make me feel that way.”

“No. I need you to cum for me and feel it. It’s like you unlocked something in me. Let me do the same for you. Please Sevika. You deserve it.” Those words break her. Everytime Sevika thinks she cannot find something new with you, you prove her wrong. There’s still a part of her that needs to be held. A vulnerability that still needs to be reached.

“Get the strap,” she pants, flopping over so she is laying on her back. As you locate the harness, a dildo, and lube, Sevika sets pillows under her back. You step into the harness and tighten the straps onto your hips before securing the dildo into the ring. You crawl over to Sevika, kneeling between her parted legs.

She is beautiful, arousal dripping in beads past her brown folds. Thighs shivering as you squirt lube into your hand and stroke it over your dick. You lean over her, grasping her hand in one of your own while using the other to guide your dick to her cunt.

“You do absolutely amazing things to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” she whimpers, tears already pricking her eyes.

“You don’t have to know why. Just believe me when I say you do,” you assure her. You push your hips forward, entering her slowly. Sevika’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you further into her. You try to pull your hips away to fuck her but her legs keep you locked inside of her.

“Do you need a moment?” you ask her, stroking her cheek.

Her eyes dart around, trying to find the right answer, “I think… I’m not ready to give in.” she bites her lip in shame and you pull her lip from her teeth with your thumb.

“That’s okay. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. We can do something else. Can I pull out?”

She shakes her head, “I still want this. I want you inside me I just.. I can’t give up,” she cries, tears falling from her eyes.

“Hey hey hey, if you can’t give, then take,” you offer. It hurts you to see her falling apart after so much progress. But you wouldn't watch her retreat. When she releases her leg lock on you, you tell her you’re going to pull out. She nods and you slowly remove yourself from her, “What do you want? You don’t have to tell me right away. You still have an hour.”

Sevika thinks for a moment, for how she can have you feel that vulnerability without handing it over too quickly. It was a sudden scary feeling, the knowledge that she was right there. She felt ashamed for running from the feeling. How could she still be with you if she can’t relent? You said she could take but she was always a giver with pleasure.

“Can I.. Can I ride you?” she asks. She honestly didn’t even know that’s what she was going to ask for, she just spoke from the heart.

“Absolutely. Tell me how you want me,” you coax.

“Lay down?”

You lay on your back and she straddles your hips, she's still shivering from nerves.

“Sevika, you don’t have to if you’re not ready,” you assure her. You couldn’t let her do something she didn’t really want. You have half a mind to safeword and just hold her the rest of the session.

“I’m scared but.. I’m ready. I’m so fucking scared of what I’ll feel,” she admits, sniffling.

“It’s normal to be scared. I’m right here, Sev. I made you a promise with that contract that I will always take care of you.”

At your words she dives down and presses her lips to your, kissing you messily. She grabs your hand and places it onto her hip then takes your dick and aligns it with her cunt. Sevika whines as she sinks slowly, needing to take her time.

“You’re doing amazing. Such a good boy,” you urge, and she whimpers as you praise her.

She rolls her hips in experimental circles, getting a feel for how much she can take. When she lifts her hips, your dick slides past her g-spot and it helps her understand. It's a little taste of the feeling you had, and she wasn’t scared of it anymore. She drops her hips again and it coaxes a small moan out of you as the strap bumps your clit. She wants to hear more. Sevika lifts her hips and slams back down, your hips jerk up at the force of hers. She sinks over and over onto you, your hips bucking up to meet her.

“Good fucking boy, taking your pleasure. Just like you deserve."

Sevika groaned, “No, you’re my good boy. Making me feel special and whole.”

“You’re so fucking special,” you moaned.

Sevika grabs the back of your head and helps you sit up. You hold her face as she drops onto your dick, gasping out moans.

For the first time. Sevika doesn't try to lose herself in the sex. She finds herself. When you hold her and tell her how perfect she is, how much you want her, she feels connected in a way she never has before. Before now, it was an act. Something she needed to do for release and settling for any face to fill her needs. She’d come for sex for years, but you gave her intimacy. While staring into her eyes, you find an agreement there. That no matter what, you're not going to let her go. You're all she has right now to hold onto the world. You hold her head, stroking her cheeks with your thumbs. Tears fall onto your fingertips and you smooth them away. Sevika reached up to hold your hand against her cheek. Sevika is shivering, every cell buzzing with need. But the need was beyond touch or feeling, it's a need of belonging. Every part of Sevika knew she belonged here, grinding onto your dick while looking into your eyes.

“Don't look away. I need you to keep looking at me like that,” she pleads.

“No. Never. I need you too. Shit, I need you.”

Sevika cums, dripping down your dick and into your lap. It sticks to your thighs and mixes with your own arousal that's been leaking from you since she first sank onto you. Sevika feels like she could breathe underwater, surrounded by peace and comfort without a worry in the world. You watch as her body shakes with the overflow of emotion, feelings of trust and intimacy mixing with warmth and satiation from her orgasm. You feel her fingers tighten on your hand and you don’t let her go. When her eyes open, you wipe away each other's tears.

She lifts her hips to release you from her and flops down on your chest. You kiss her hair and stroke her cheek.

“Sevika, I’m so proud of you. Most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever seen,” you whisper into her hair.

Sevika nuzzles her head into your chest, cuddling to you for more comfort. With that, the last piece of your puzzle is placed, and she becomes clear. Sevika is nowhere near loved as much as she should be. As much as Babette insisted that love has no place in the brothel, the existence of Sevika made the statement untrue. Sevika needed love so badly, and you needed to give it to her.

“What do you want for aftercare, love?” you ask her, testing out a new pet name. Sevika sighs into your chest and wraps her flesh arm over you, deepening the cuddle.

“Hold me and tell me you’ll always take care of me.”

You press another kiss to her hair and wrap your arms over her, “Sevika, I’m going to take care of you no matter what. Sexually, emotionally, any way you need. You need so much love and I’ll be here to give you as much as I can. I just hope it's close to what you need.”

divider by @cafekitsune

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #sevika x you #butch4butch sevika #i love sevika

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