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#silco arcane x reader
am-i-interrupting · 10 months
Note
hi hi hiii !!
idk if you're still doing requests for Arcane, but if you are, I'd love to see Ekko, Victor, Jinx (and any other characters of your choice) with an s/o that's really good with with kids? maybe they could be a teacher/ mentor or babysitter but just very much loving caregiver vibes for any and all kids they come across
Caitlyn
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She loves seeing you with kids, in your element.
She thinks it’s cute to see the way kids hang onto your every word and the way you teach them without them even noticing.
She will pop in on you with kids carrying toys and games.
She does enjoy kids company as well and they do like her but maybe mostly because she’s an enforcer and she brings them toys.
Sometimes she’ll find herself watching you with a kid (especially if that kid looks like either one of you) and daydreaming about somewhere in the distant future where you two would have one of you own.
Ekko
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He’s not the best with kids himself. He’s not bad by any means but he can find himself often freezing up and unsure what to do.
This caused him to find it fascinating how good you are with them when he finds himself floundering.
When the Firelights have to go on missions often times the ones who have kids will leave them with you.
Upon arriving back, he will spend a minute just watching you doting on the kids.
He is just so enraptured in everything you do and that includes your ability to form relationships with kids.
Jinx
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There aren’t many kids in the areas Jinx grew up. Not too many parents are gonna bring their kids into what is now essentially a club.
The first time she saw you with a kid was one of the times you went outside together. She had stepped away from the kid crying on the street, her hand instinctively on her gun, and she got itchy when she saw you approach.
She didn’t say anything she just watched as you crouched down to the kid’s level and started calming them down.
Slowly but surely her hand on her gun went slack and she just watched you enthralled.
When you offered to walk the kid back home and they agreed and you started leading them to her, she just looked at them wide eyed as she cocked her head, her braids pooling on the ground as a result, and waved her hand.
The kid hid behind your leg but you reached out and grabbed her hand and slowly the kid got more comfortable around Jinx on the way to their house.
Later that night Jinx was tracing the seam lines on your shirt and asked you what you thought about kids.
Silco
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He would find it amusing how good you are with kids that aren’t his.
It’s almost like he indulges in watching you with them but in an almost smug way as he is with everything.
Seeing you be good with Jinx though changes everything. It completely knocks him off his guard.
Watching you play with her and make her smile makes him soft.
If you’re there when Jinx is having a mental health moment, she’ll cling to you and beg you to make it stop while you do your best to calm her down.
The emotions he feels is a combination of sadness, sympathy, and oddly pride in those moments.
For other kids, he couldn’t care less about how you interact with them but when it’s his, it means the world to him.
Viktor
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He’s not good with kids himself. Those pivotal years of learning to make connections were stolen from him because of his inability to do things so many others could and kids having a habit of being cruel, especially in the lanes.
Seeing you with kids is something like a case study to him.
He finds it fascinating and seems to almost take notes on what you’re doing.
He would never engage for the longest time with any kids that were under your watch unless they directly asked him questions.
Then one day, he just did and they adored him, not as much as they adored you but it was a close thing.
They would like him for the fact that he refuses to talk to them like they’re idiots and indulged them in their endless curiosity.
You find a notebook later on filled with things that you did around the kids (even something as small as your tone of voice) that made you realize he was mimicking what you did in his own way.
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astudyincontrasts · 5 months
Text
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.
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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.”
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ghostchems · 1 month
Text
thief - silco x female!reader
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desperate for shimmer, you steal some from the last drop and make your escape
me less than an hour ago:
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tags: first time writing silco! let me know what ye think. PLEASE CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS: drug addiction, drug abuse, shimmer, shimmer abuse, p in v sex, fingering, silco is a bad man and reader is v desperate but also kinda into it? 2.2k words. ao3 link.
The pavement thuds beneath your feet, running like your life depended on getting away. You’ve stolen something, something so small it couldn’t possibly be missed, right? Your hand grips it so tight, afraid that if you can’t feel the smooth glass it will somehow disappear from your fingertips. Small pieces of rubble start to get into the holes in your shoes which leads to you slowing your run to a steady jog and then peeling off into the next alleyway. You are panting, trying to catch your breath as you slither deeper into the dimly lit street. A success. It was a success. You were surprised by how easy it was. You slipped into The Last Drop at peak business hours (12am) and mingled within the crowd, pickpocketing one of the servers of a “shimmer shot”. You hung around for about fifteen more minutes and then peeled out of there.
You only took enough to give yourself a little push. The withdrawal symptoms have been intensifying over the last few day, to the point that this small instance of thievery seems justified. Money is tight. You’d buy some if you could. What is the harm of taking some from the largest producer in the lanes? They wouldn’t miss one small vial. They probably don’t even know it’s gone. You open your hand to look at it, the purple liquid glowing in the darkness of the alleyway. A shattered breath leaves your lips, feeling the familiar shaking in your hand and the buzz in your head. You could take it right now, swallow it down in one gulp, instead of saving it for when you get home. It would give you more energy for the remaining trek, wouldn’t it? You’re too trapped in your thoughts to notice him emerge from the shadows.
“Give that here, girl.” There’s an edge to Silco’s voice but also an air of exasperation. You’re wrenched from your thoughts only to meet his mismatched glare, one eye cool blue and the other black with a fiery orange iris. The Eye of Zaun. Your breath catches in your throat, your hand immediately closing around the purple vial.
“This is mine.” You’re not convincing anyone.
“You think I don’t recognize my own product?” Cold and unamused. Silco steps closer to you, his orange iris fixated on you as he holds his hand out. “Hand. It. Over.”
“Please. It’s so small. I… I went through a lot to get it.” You are sputtering, the idea of the vial being ripped from you almost bringing you to tears. He can see it in your eyes — you’re addicted. Addicted to his drug. An opportunity has presented itself to him, should he be in the mood to take it. Silco says nothing, his hand still outstretched to you. You give a strained whine and hand it over, your hand shaking as you drop it into his palm. “Be thankful I am letting you off with a warning, girl.” He hisses, closing his hand around the vial.
“Wait.” Your hand latches onto his coat, a bold move but you don’t want him to leave. Silco’s face twists in annoyance but he stays silent, even as you close the distance between the two of you. A last ditch, desperate effort. Your hand feels the soft material of his jacket lapel under your fingers. Silco’s jaw tightens, his mismatched glare boring into your face. You exhale, drifting your fingertips to the collar of his shirt and stroking where it meets his neck. He doesn’t stop you, which makes you push the boundaries further, touching his neck and then his jaw. Silco has seen this many times before but… but it’s been a while since he’s let himself indulge. He’s a busy man — ensuring the successful distribution of shimmer hidden beneath legitimate business dealings all while trying to raise a daughter. Your desperation is so delicious to him in this moment, his lips twitching into a barely perceivable smirk. You chew on your lower lip as your hand creeps further up to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. He hasn’t shooed you away yet, much to your surprise. You wonder why but the thought is clouded by your extreme awareness of the vial of shimmer in his hand, so close to you now. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you raise yourself up on your tippy toes in order to reach him. You lean in, the tips of your noses touching before you press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“P-please, Silco.” You’re begging now, your lips against his, feeling his soft breath start to pick up. You tilt your head and kiss him again, starting off with light, sensuous pecks before licking into his mouth, tasting the smoke on his tongue. Silco’s mouth drops open further, allowing you more access, his tongue curiously working against yours but letting you lead. Your spare hand moves up his chest then closes around his hand that holds the vial. All you have to do is work it out of his hand or make out with him enough to make him not care anymore. Easy, right? You embellish a moan into the kiss and then drag your teeth along his bottom lip.
Silco’s arm shoots out and seizes you by the neck, driving you back into a nearby wall. Your fingertips brush against the vial just as you’re thrown backwards, your hands moving to clutch at his arms. Air depletes from your lungs while you gasp, your eyes bulging from their sockets. Silco is strangling you, squeezing the air from your body but his face is cold, indifferent. He lifts the vial so that it’s in your view, secure between two fingers. Your grip on his arm loosens and your eyes fall to the shimmer, once again within your grasp. He tilts his head, watching your reaction to it — expecting nothing short of you reaching out to grab it yourself.
“All that trouble for the smallest amount — not even enough to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay for long.” Silco hums and starts to unscrew the cap of the vial with his fingers. *You must need it.” He brings the vial just short of your lips, your breath catching in your throat. Your mouth waters from how close it is, practically able to taste it on your tongue. A groan rumbles up his chest and he loosens his grip on your neck and slips his hand behind your head, fingers knotting in your hair. He tilts the vial up, the shimmer flowing steadily down your throat. You’re barely able to swallow it down before Silco’s mouth is crushed against yours, the vial shattering on the ground as his hand moves to squeeze your butt. It feels like he’s devouring you, losing yourself in him and the shimmer that explodes in your system. Your body lurches forward with a shriek, your nerves firing on all cylinders but he keeps you caged against the wall with his strong arms.
“Turn around.” He demands in a low growl against your lips. You find yourself doing as you’re told without thinking twice, clumsily moving your body while your head feels like it’s floating off of your shoulders. Even from the small amount your vision is already blurred and your limbs are loose, disconnected from the orders your brain is giving. Silco grows impatient, his large hands grab you by the shoulders and forces your chest against the wall, a shiver running through him at just how pliable you are beneath his fingers. You groan, your head spinning from the sudden movement, lolling to lean back on his shoulder. His breath is hot in the shell of your ear as his hands start to tug at your waistband, fingertips brush along the sensitive skin on your hip giving you goosebumps. Your face flushes, heat spreading through you as you start to fully comprehend that how badly he must want you. You arch your back into him and you can feel him already half hard against the curve of your ass.
His cock pulses at the movement, a low grunt in your ear as he starts to work your pants down. A slender finger strokes along your slick folds, earning quiet whimpers from you. Each stroke applies more pressure than the last until his finger is deep inside you, massaging at your inner walls. You can’t help but moan, the shimmer heightening some senses yet dulling others at the same time but you know that this feels unbelievably good. Silco slips two more fingers in, easing you open to prepare you for his throbbing cock, giving a satisfied groan by how receptive you are.
“An obedient little whore, willing to do anything for a taste.” He hisses in your ear while he removes his fingers from you, his other hand working down his slacks. You feel how wet you are, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. Silco gives himself three quick strokes, spreading your slick along his shaft. You try to angle yourself as he lines up with your entrance, raising yourself up on your tippy toes and keeping your front press against the wall. “Good girl.” He hums right as he plunges himself inside you, your walls stretching around him to adjust to his size. You curse under your breath, the only coherent sounds you’re able to make. Silco manages a few strong pumps before he falls out with an annoyed grunt, fingers digging into your hips and pushing you further against the wall. The head of his cock presses against your entrance but when he thrusts, it slips and runs along your wet lips. You whine and grind against him, seeking out his touch so desperately. The shimmer amplifies it and she feels everything, from each throb to the veins on the understand to his neat pubic hair that brushes her with each thrust.
A strangled growl rips from his throat and he hooks his arm underneath one of your legs and raises it to pin it against the wall. You’re fully exposed to him now, spread apart and vulnerable — but you don’t care, you’re committed and into it now. You’ve stolen from the Eye of Zaun only for him to let you off with a quick fuck, presumably as a warning. Silco positions himself again and fucks into you with a sharp breath, holding still as he presses his nose against your ear. His hips snap again and your mouth drops open, a deep moan tumbling out of it. He fills you so perfectly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your head spin and your muscles contract. You push back against each of his hungry thrusts, his thighs slapping against your ass loud enough that it echoes down the alleyway. Silco’s hand finds it’s way to your hair and pulls at it, twisting your head to face him.
He wants to see you. He wants to see the purple in your eyes, how heavy your eyelids must be by now, and how clenched your jaw must be. You meet his gaze and he sees most of what he’s looking for but your jaw is looking slack, relaxed even. Silco pounds into you once more and holds himself still, a huff leaving his lips as he watches your eyes flutter, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. You are so ripe for the taking that he can’t hold back, he has to chase it, to break you down in his arms and spill his poison inside you. His thrusts become frenzied, so deep and reckless that you can hardly see straight. Your eyes squeeze shut and you give another quiet moan, nails digging into the cement wall. He watches as the immense pleasure twists your face, making him growl and press his forehead hard against yours, feeling his sharp breaths on your lips. Silco doesn’t kiss you but he keeps his eyes on yours, the gentle lull of his teal eye and the combative danger of his orange one, both of which have a small tint of purple from your blurred vision. Two more thrusts and he’s there, flooding you with his cum as you feel his shattered breath on your face.
He slinks away, leaving you quivering against the wall, dropping your knee so your feet are on the ground. There’s nothing left for you to focus on, nothing more for you to feel and you start to spiral, your head leaning into the cement wall. Is he gone? It’s all too much. You’re head spins and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself as a shiver downs your spine. Just as you’re about to sink to the ground, you feel his warm breath against your neck. Silco slips something into your jacket pocket.
“For your troubles.”
You’re not sure how much times has passed since the words filled your ears. When you turn around he’s gone, but you feel like the rush is finally wearing off. You shamefully pull your pants back up, your gaze darting around with the realization that anyone could have seen. The same rubble in your shoe stabs into the balls of. your feet. You lean against the wall, still dazed when your hand settles in your pocket.
You pull out another vial of shimmer and you’re left with the same dilemma.
Take it now? Or at home?
117 notes · View notes
ijwrsmff · 8 months
Note
OMG YES!!!
I don’t know if your requests for yandere arcane is still open so disregard this if it isn’t.
Yandere Silco/Viktor x GN!reader (romantic, feel free to pick between the two men, I love both of them)
I wanna see them react to insecure reader being harassed for their insecurity in person and how they deal with the situation + manipulate it to their advantage in a way to get the reader closer to them.
Thank you so much and I hope you have an amazing day!!!
LOVE THIS IDEA!
I'm not the biggest Viktor person, but a yandere version of him? Now that I can get behind. Can you tell Silco is my #1?
I did this as headcanons, in the form of bullet points, I hope that's okay! Thank you for requesting!
(Traces of Jinx in Silco's section)
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Silco:
When one of Silco’s men made an odd comment about you while you were in Silco’s office…he genuinely had no idea how to respond for several moments
Was this man really so stupid…so ignorant as to say something like that not only in front of you, but in front of him?
“Come here.” He said, in a cold and unwavering voice to the man
He was confused but got closer anyways
Silco moved quicker than any of you knew he could, and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt
“Tsk tsk tsk. And here I thought you showed promise.” He let go, shoving the man into the chair across from his desk
You could hear Jinx giggling above you, as she watched with anticipation
You were just…hurt
How come he picked at the one thing you were most sensitive about?
You looked at the scene in front of you, confused and anxious to see what was about to happen
It was no secret to you that Silco ran a…minorly illegal business
To say the least
But he rarely showed you just how bad it could get, so for the most part you had no idea
You were about to find out though
Silco gestured for Sevika to block the door, and it made the man antsy in his chair
He then looked up to Jinx, and nodded
She knew what to do
Silco then grabbed you as Jinx hopped down, and pressed himself against you
Your back was to his chest, and you were now sitting in his lap observing what was about to happen
The man screamed as Jinx kicked his shin hard enough to break it
She pulled out one of her guns, and started shooting across his arms and legs
The most twisted part of it all was that…he was alive. He could feel every shot into his body
Jinx giggled and put pressure on some of the wounds, as the man screamed…and screamed…and screamed
“See darling? This is what happens when someone crosses me.” He whispered into your ear
You were terrified, the display being so cruel and brutal that you were left in shock
He spoke once more, but this time to the man crying and screaming across from you
“Apologize. To them, not to me.” He smiled coldly over your shoulder, wrapping both his arms around you, keeping you locked in place
“I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN, PL-”
Jinx let off one more round, straight into his torso
She giggled again, and shrugged, saying “Oops! Not good enough!” 
As the man fell to the ground, you nearly started sobbing
Silco felt this, and put a hand over your eyes, which only made you more terrified
“It’s okay…as long as you’re with me, not a single soul can bring you harm. I will punish anyone without any remorse for hurting you.” 
His breath was hot on your ear, and he chuckled. 
“You’re mine, and I’ll protect you. No matter the consequence.” 
Viktor:
You had been with Viktor a few months, and he was just…so sweet
Something in you had those alarm bells going off, but you brushed it aside as anxiety
He was always pretty protective of you, but generally much more laid back about it than some
You didn’t realize just the severity of it until today
You and him were walking, as he liked to do
Sure, his leg was real bad but he always said exercise would help eventually
He had his cane as usual, and you were both chatting away
It was peaceful…for now
A man you’d never seen before came up to you, and said something cruel about an insecurity you tried to hide all your life
The tears fell, and Viktor froze on the spot
Within seconds, Viktor went from looking at you, to the man
“That wasn’t nice…I’m going to request you apologize.” He smiled at you, and held your hand, barely paying attention to the man
“Why would I? Piss off.” The man said, and he went to walk away but Viktor spun around and slammed the cane into the back of the man’s knee
“What the-THIS ISN’T WHAT-” He was cut off when the cane struck his stomach
Viktor hit him, a good few more times before he stopped, leaving the man with at least a couple broken bones
He winced, knowing he overworked himself again
You just stared, how could he hurt someone like that?
“Ah…” He mumbled, leading you away from the scene
“I’m sorry love…When I saw you cry I just snapped.” He looked sheepish, but something in your mind screamed “RUN!” 
You ignored that feeling again
“You…care about me that much?” You wiped the tears from your eyes, and held Viktor’s free hand
“Of course I do. I would do anything for you.” And he gave you a big smile
Something about his words felt off…
You clung to his side, and he simply thought…”That was easier than I thought.” 
He had paid that man, telling him exactly what to say
Viktor knew of your deepest insecurity, and fully intended on exploiting that to get closer to you
The man he beat up wasn’t informed on the fact Viktor would beat him nearly half to death
But as soon as he left the scene, he signaled to his…”friends” to dispose of the man
Had he been more sane, he would have never used your insecurity against you
He was not, however
When he said he’d do anything for you…he may he lied a bit
There was one thing he could never do even if you wanted to
And that was leave your side
He would never, in a million years, accept a break up
Now…you wouldn’t want to know what would happen if you tried…
Would you?
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tonberry-yoda · 10 months
Text
Weird World - Silco
notes - hi. Silco brainrot. I can't help but want to make out with this man and tell him how pretty I think he is. So here's a fic that I have been planning for a while! I hope my Silco lovers love it as much as I do and have a super day! Don't forget to stay hydrated, lovelies!!! <333
word count - 1,346
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You didn't mean to stare.
But growing up in a word where you were told to forget about the undercity, to act like it doesn't exist, it was hard not to.
You were young.
Young and stupid.
And reckless.
You wanted to explore. To be on your own. To feel freedom for the first time. To rebel.
So you walked to the entrance of the undercity, making sure that not a soul was watching...
and you stepped inside.
That's when you met him.
You didn't mean to stare.
But you did.
He had blood dripping out of his mouth and down his forehead. He had an infected eye. He didn't look... human.
"What are you looking at?" he scoffed, spitting blood on the ground.
You watched as he tried to walk past you, trying to hold back a cough from the air that you weren't used to.
"What happened?" you asked him.
He turned to you in almost confusion, but when he took one look at you, he rolled his eye. Ignoring you, he turned away once more.
"Do you want me to call a doctor? Or the police, perhaps?"
The boy laughed out loud at you, having to cough up more blood because of it. "You want to call a doctor? And the police?!" He burst into laughter once more and you shuddered.
That's when you realized you were farther from home than you thought.
"L-Let me help!" you tried once more.
The boy stopped laughing and tilted his head. "You really aren't from around here, are you?" he asked.
You shook your head and stood still, ignoring passerby's that tried making smarmy comments at you.
"You look really hurt." you told him.
"That's because I am." he said quietly, before turning away once more.
"What's your name?" you called to him before he could make it too far.
He turned to you, his gaze almost softening. "Silco." he said. "You shouldn't be down here. Go back where you're safe."
"Silco." you echoed quietly, turning his name over on your tongue. It was nice. "Will I see you again, Silco."
He sighed, looking into your hopeful eyes. "I hope not. Please don't come back down here."
He walked away, leaving you alone in the city that you couldn't navigate.
You don't know why you called out to him like that. Something about him was so....
You didn't know how to explain it.
But one thing you knew for sure:
For a beat up man, he was quite handsome.
---
You stared at yourself in the mirror.
How come no one said anything about the world that lived right beneath you? Especially when it was like that?
It had been two days since your first expedition to the undercity and you were still in awe. Everyone around you ignored the place and on top of that, didn't do anything to fix it. People looked miserable down there and people were breathing fresh air and smiling through innovation up top?
Bullshit.
You threw your bag over your shoulder and threw open your door. Followed was a deep breath.
You had to admit you were a little scared.
"I'll be back." you whispered to no one, leaving the house empty and your thoughts full.
You threw all of those thoughts in an imaginary trash can, and walked with nothing leading you, but muscle memory.
Suddenly, every fear you had from earlier came back as you stood at the entrance to the undercity.
This was going to be harder than you thought.
You thought that your first time coming here was scary, but this was somehow scarier.
Maybe it's because you didn't want to be prodded at, or maybe it was because the air felt like fire in your lungs.
But it was definitely because you were afraid that you were never going to see Silco again.
You shook your head, hating your own thoughts and just walked in, the whole other world greeting you quickly with bright lights and loud laughter.
You didn't even know where to begin. If you were here for him, that was going to be impossible in a place like this, so what were you doing?
You ignored the people calling you "an up top cupcake" and "a sweet little mouse" and just kept walking. This would be your opportunity to actually explore the world beneath you, since you didn't really two days ago.
And when you did actually explore a bit, some parts actually seemed fun. There were neon lights and lots of music and a ton of kind people amongst the bad ones.
It definitely wasn't home, but it was nice to see somewhere different. To see this different point of view. And once you got used to the air, it wasn't too bad.
You felt like a whole new person, and it was very odd, considering you've grown up with such a rich, closed mind.
"I told you not to come back here." You heard as you walked down a small alleyway, trying to find a way out. You jumped, startled at the sudden interaction.
And then you chuckled to yourself, slightly blushing when you saw who it was. "I couldn't help myself." you told Silco, watching him step out of the light. His eye looked much worse, but he wasn't covered in blood anymore, so that was good.
"How is this appealing?" he laughed, pointing to the world around the two of you.
"It's different from home."
He thought about your response for a second and then nodded. "I can see that. So why are you back down here?"
"To look for you." Not the answer you wanted to slip out of your mouth, but definitely the correct one.
He laughed at you. He really seemed to do that a lot.
"Why?" he asked, tilting his head a bit and taking a seat on what you couldn't tell was a bench or garbage.
"You're also different than home."
"You're strange."
"Should I take that as a compliment?"
"From me? Yes."
You smiled at him, and for the first time in all of your meeting, he smiled back. It was a genuine smile with his teeth, which seemed to be broken into.
"Can I finally ask about what happened two days ago?" you said, taking a seat next to him.
"We've just met. I don't even know your name." He looked at you with confusion, but not in a bad way.
"It's y/n." you told him. "And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"I got in a fight with a very important friend to me. We have clashing opinions, he and I. So I don't see a friendship or anything of the sort continuing between the two of us."
"I'm sorry." Was all you could say.
"Don't apologize. It's nice to meet you, y/n."
"I like the name Silco."
He gave you another genuine smile. "Thank you."
Every time he would look at you, he would almost look a little bit surprised, like it was odd for you to be talking to him. And maybe it was.
"Have you ever been up top?" you asked him.
He just shook his head. "You can come down here with ease because others will know if your missing and will care for you. If I go up there, it's like a rabbit going into a lion's den. Plus, I have desire to go up there."
"Can I find you again down here, Silco?"
"Will you look for me like this again?"
"Yes."
"Then yes. You will find me again. I hope to see you again soon. Be safe, alright?" He took your hand and pressed a kiss upon your knuckles, smiling up at you.
"I will. Be safe as well, please."
He nodded at you, saying he would and you left, easily finding a way out. You were staring to make your way around, even if it was proving more and more difficult the more crowded it was.
What a weird world that separated the both of you.
~~~~~
arcane masterlist | pinned post
2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated
~~~~~
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demigoddessqueens · 2 years
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Arcane Affections
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I wrote one similar like this for CR, and i wanted to write HC’s aside from my arcane fics
Jayce - absolutely physical touch!! And then next best is any small or big task at hand
Vi - quality time and words of affirmation. Please do, she’s lost so much
Caitlyn - definitely gifts and quality time
Jinx - all five!! She’s been so tormented in life and deserves all good things
Ekko - physical touch, gifts (he deserves them), and quality time
Vander - physical touch (bear hugs) and words of affirmation (he tries/tried his best), doesn’t mind doing stuff for you too
Mel - definitely words of affirmation and physical touch, also some gifts too
Silco - gifts, your time and though he won’t admit it, your gentle touch
Viktor - words of affirmation (mostly, pls, from some insecurities), and
Sevika - quality time all the way
Marcus - touch starved and down for physical touch and quality time, likes to do stuff for you too
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madschiavelique · 4 months
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𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐬’ 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑
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template link
fic list :
love bite (miguel o’hara x reader)
restraint (miguel o’hara x reader)
blue nedys, black carmethys (machine herald x reader)
oxytocin love (miguel o’hara x reader)
a crown of ink (viktor x reader)
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Text
Silco x gn! Reader - Observant
A/n: I know I'm late to the party on writing for this fandom but really when am I ever on time?
Summary: You're a bartender at the last drop that's really just is good at listening and observing, it's a skill that unbeknownst to you hasn't gone unnoticed
Warnings: Drugs, swearing, a bar, I think that's? You have been warned!
Pronouns used: No pronouns
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You knew Silco wasn't necessarily a good person, hell he was the reason most of the people in the undercity were addicts to the famous simmer. Yet that didn't stop you from working for him, he was the most powerful man in Zaun so being at least somewhere in his good graces wouldn't be a bad idea.
You were just a simple bartender doing their work to survive, getting a job at the last drop just seemed like it was a default choice at the time, why wouldn't you? It paid better then most places in the undercity did, it offered some tiny bit of protection, and you could listen in on conversations.
That's what you were good at - observing, being the eyes and ears. You could eavesdrop on any conversation easily enough, you had learned how to read peoples body language, and over the years you had taught yourself how to read lips. Being a bartender at the last drop just seemed like it could keep you out of trouble if you knew the right people to listen in too.
"What would you like?" You question the man that had angrily stomped over to the bar stool and nearly knocked the chair over when he sat on it. The guy was surely furious, meaning information with a couple of drinks and the right words would flow out of him without a hitch. Perfect entertainment for the night.
He grumbles out his order and you make sure to raise your eyebrow at him when you pass his drink to him.
"Tough night?"
The man takes a sip of his drink and groans and the cold ice of anger is finally broken, meaning you could at last get him to start talking.
"I'm just in trouble with my job."
You shake your head and just laugh at this man, if he was over in this side of the undercity it probably meant that his job had some sort of connection with the big man upstairs, and this was Silco's bar after all.
"Do tell; I have nothing better left to do." You shrug your shoulders while preparing him another drink noticing that he was nearly done his first.
In reality you could probably be making more money around here and tips so you could get paid more but like you said before free entertainment. Most of the time, you can't put a price on that.
"I shouldn't really say anything-" He glances over to some of the "higher ups" and throws everything away when you send the next drink over. He doesn't think they're looking, he's wrong there's always at least one eye looking and listening to everything.
He just landed on the doorstep.
"Ah fuck it, it's not like you care."
That was the best thing this guy had said all night, poetic really because you didn't care, not enough for this to even matter. This was just a game you liked to play, and he had fallen into your trap.
"I sold separately some of the shimmer shipments that I was supposed to give to some important people." The man slams his hands down onto the tables, "There I said it!"
Lord, this guy really is an idiot.
"The ultimate street rat you are aren't you? Stealing some of the boogeyman's shares? That's a power move let me tell you that, lots of girls would hit you up for it too. Well... depending on these so called "important" people you were supposed to give the packages too." You wink before getting him his third drink.
He bites his lip before shaking his head and downing the rest of his drink.
"Just another councilor."
You freeze, your hand hovering over the cup your about to handover to him. This wasn't supposed to get serious, what was this guy thinking really? Like he's in some deep shitty waters but he might as well have been pulling you down with him. What happens if someone finds out that you knew? But how would you tell someone that would believe you enough to tell it to the boss?
In a split second you're smiling at the man again and handing him his drink.
"Damn man, that's tuff as hell."
The man goes to open his big mouth to respond but he's stopped by who you've gotten know as Sevika, Silco's right-hand women.
"L/n, the boss wants to see you."
Usually she looked bored out of her mind when she took people away to go see the famous kingpin but this time she looked confused. She had no idea why he wanted to see you, the funny thing is neither did you - not really anyways. Unless he had just heard your conversation with the man of course and thought you were in on it somehow.
That would really suck.
But this was the undercity you weren't going to show that you were scared and trying to find the answers before you got there, weakness here wasn't tolerated very well. Indifference though? Oh, that was perfect.
So you just nodded your head and went with her, what else could you do?
_______________________
His office you found wasn't extremely big, but it was still bigger then most apartments in Zaun. Although you could feel the death and danger that raided from this room, or maybe it was from a certain individual.
"So what did you find out?" He spun around in his velvet chair to look at you.
You're dumbfound, the industrialist of Zaun is smirking at you as if you were old friends, or something more. As of he knew exactly what you did every time you came to the last drop. You haven't even met the zaunite in your life but both his eyes were nearly calm and friendly. Moreover they held... Respect.
You realized that you were staring at the attractive man in front of you for far too long once he raised his eyebrows in response to your dumbfound silence.
You blinked your eyes a couple of times to make sure what you're seeing is real before you nervously clear your throat.
"I'm sorry sir... But what the fuck?"
You had expected him to stop looking at you like he has been since you've come into the room, or for him to remind you that you can't talk like that to him but he doesn't he simply repeats his question or demand...
"What did the scum tell you?"
"How did you-" You start with your eyes wide knowing that you could get into some trouble for this if you weren't careful.
He chuckles and looks at you and you know you're looking straight into the eye of Zaun. The irises was burning and the black sclera devouring everything in it's path, getting anything it wanted.
You could see it's intent know, it wanted you.
"You shouldn't think so little of me Y/n, I see you. I'm surprised you haven't seen me watching with you being so observant, you basically see everything."
He gives you an animalistic smile and he stands up places his hands on his desk abruptly causing you to flinch.
"Making you useful."
You shiver as he looks you up and down, his eyes peeling off your clothes with just a couple of looks.
"Come here." He motions his hands to his chair and you hesitantly go to sit in the (surprisingly) comfy chair.
He traps you beneath him griping both the arms rests making it impossible to look anywhere but him.
"You're an important asset you me Y/n, I'll need you coming to the last drop more often and at the end of your shift every night you must report back to me."
Then he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and your breath caught in your throat, and in that moment you knew that you wouldn't deny this man anything ever.
"Yes," You breathed out. "I'll do it, whatever you want."
He practically purrs as he pulls your face closer to his.
"Perfect, now tell me everything you know."
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a-lil-perspective · 2 years
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Silco would absolutely drape his coat around your shoulders during your evening walk.
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cal-writes-never · 2 years
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Requesting some hcs for being Sevika’s teen kid? (Found family trope)
you say headcanons and i turn up with a whole ass fic
pairing: sevika + child!reader
summary: how sevika ended up with a kid
(cw; mentions of violence & alcohol)
---
- you were a little younger than jinx, and nobody knew a single thing about you. one day you seemingly appeared in zaun from god knows where, yet you were sneaky and an excellent criminal, learning how to fend for yourself through a life of crime. - everyone recognised you, yet no one cared enough to actually call you out for the trouble you'd caused. shimmer was everyone's priority. besides, your line of crimes rarely strayed outside of petty theft and such. - sevika noticed how you would hang around the last drop more and more frequently over time. you'd just be there, not talking to anyone or looking for anything. you just stood alone. - of course this piqued her curiosity, but she found herself with no real reason to approach you - she knew there was no point in it, anyways. she knew her job, and she knew better than to care too much about a teenager who's name she didn't even know. - things carried on as they always did, sevika spending time both in the bar and around zaun, tending to whatever job silco needed doing, yet always keeping an eye on you. - you'd begun to get into small arguments with the strongest men in the undercity about how you'd stolen their limited cash or something, which she found entertaining, admittedly. - this didn't last long, though, as things began to quickly escalate and become violent. - sevika was quick to step in the moment he landed a punch on your cheek, taking not even a second to give him what he deserved: the beating of a lifetime. - you simply watched in awe as she spat in his face, half impressed that someone would help you yet also angry that you didn't even get the chance to defend yourself and prove your strength. - "come on, kid." she said quietly, guiding you into the back of the building. - she checked you over for any lasting damage, of which there was none, then bluntly asked you what the hell even happened. you explained the situation while she nodded slowly, and your explanation then lead on to how you ended up in the lanes and looking after yourself. - sevika thought for a minute, before finally telling you to stick with her for the time being. you were shocked to say the least and as time went on made sure not to overstay your welcome, but as stakes increased so did your bond with sevika, the woman who grew to become your mother figure.
- it goes without saying that most of your time was spent in the last drop. although sevika made her hatred for the blue haired girl who lived their quite apparent and did all she could to keep you away from her, you found your friendship with jinx growing and you two did all you could to see each other regularly. - she became your best friend and you did everything together, much to your mother's dismay, yet she refrained from doing anything about it as she understood how happy jinx made you, no matter how much she just didn't understand. - you also ended up making quite the impression on silco and his goons, he even admitted himself when he didn't know you were up in the rafters with jinx that you had grown on him a considerable amount since sevika first took you under her wing. - she definitely taught you how to fight properly, and taught you to be on your guard if you were to ever see a pink haired girl once vi returned. - sparring matches with sevika were common, and although she tried her best to keep it harmless, she did injure you on a few occasions, but you were strong, and got back up almost immediately. - that was definitely her influence, and she was so, so proud of the person you started to mould into. - of course she would never admit it to your face, but sevika really did love you as if you were her own child, and once even slipped up and called you her child. nobody left her alone about it for weeks. - she made sure you knew you always had a safe space around her, even if she was the last person you'd expect to be saying that. she truly was a kind person once you got to know her, albeit a bit brash and violent, even around you. - no mercy when it comes to beating people up if they even dare lay a finger on you, much like when she first met you. - bargained with silco until he believed that you were strong enough to go on missions under her guidance, and you made sure to never prove that you weren't ready. - once you even found yourself in a sticky situation with the firelights, and sevika had never been prouder when she saw how resourceful you were being, using every alternative before violence. - she'd make sure to support you no matter what you went on to do as you got older, even if she highly disapproved of it. - the most honest person in your life; will absolutely tell you if she disagrees with what you're doing but she will not stop you either. - overall, i think sevika would make a surprisingly good mother. the love would have to come from a place of loss or the sense of something missing, yet there would be times where her guard would drop and you'd hear how much you mean to her. - usually this would come only under the circumstances involving a heavy drink (which she absolutely let you have, too), but it meant the world to you when you heard it. - by no means is she perfect, but when you're living in the lanes a guardian like that is all you really need.
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jane-todd-maximoff · 2 years
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Home
Silco x GN Reader - requests are open 
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CW: panic attacks, PAST ABUSE (if you read between the lines) (THIS IS BASED ON MY PERSON EXPERIENCE WITH PANIC ATTACKS EVERY ONE HAS DIFFERENT EXPERIENCES) 
it was too quiet, that was how he found you. He should have known something was up, he should have been here with you. He should have been home with you. Looking into your eyes, Silco could sense that you were scared of him. If he was in your position he would be scared too. Silco found you curled into a ball on your shared bed in the middle of an attack. Sadly, this isn't the first time this has happened. Your panic attacks were semi-regular. But it has been months since you had one this severe. One where you could hardly remember that you were safe and with him now. 
“Y/n” his voice was soft. It was the same way he would talk to Jinx. You look up at him. Your eyes were bloodshot. How long have you been in this state of mind? He walked forward and took a seat on the bed. “Will you let me put my arms around you?” He had to be careful. It was funny. Him the eye of Zaun being careful. But when it comes down to the people he cares about he's always gonna be cautious and protective. He can't lose you he won't not to anyone and certainly not your own goddamn mind. 
You tried to say something but all that came out was a dry sob. Instead, you nod. Silco brings his arms up to wrap around your torso. One hand slides its way up your back and into your hair. He could feel your body shake and he could feel his dress shirt getting wet. Your breath was still out of control hitching every few moments. “Y/n can you focus on my voice?” He heard a muffled response so he took it as a yes. “Y/n, I'm here with you, you're safe.” He ran his hand through your hair trying to give you comfort. “Concentrate on my breathing. Try to match your breathing to mine.“ He said. It was the one technique that worked best for you. It took a few minutes for your breathing to slow down. It was still not the best, but it was an improvement.
Silco started to rock you in his arms after you had calmed down. “Love, you're safe.” He whispered. ”your home.“ he reminds you. slowly he removes you from being hidden away in his chest. He grabs you by the chin lightly so he could get a better look at you now. dry tears layered your face. “hey Y/N your safe. no one can hurt you now there all gone.” he hoped you know that he took care of them. he hoped you know they were dead. all killed on his orders. and that the few who got away or the worst were killed by his own two hand. 
'`all of them?” you asked, your voice was so soft so unsure. So young. two young to go through All the trauma you have endured at the hands of others. “all of them.”he reassured you, pulling you back into his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to your hair “all of them.”
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am-i-interrupting · 11 months
Note
Hiiiiiiiiiii
If you still want Arcane requests, maybe a reader with insomnia? Maybe staying up late with character(s) or whoever you want to write for. Coming to you from my brain running on 3 hours of sleep :)
Caitlyn
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She has a habit of staying up late as well but not more than an hour or two past when she should have gone to sleep.
Normally she’ll try to drag you to bed and if you really can’t sleep she’ll ask you to read to her.
Sometimes she’ll wake up if you get out of bed.
In those instances she’ll wrap the blanket around herself and trudge through the house looking for you.
When she finds you, she’ll make a cup of tea and try to drink it beside you but normally ends up falling asleep against your shoulder.
Ekko
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He’s either bone tired by the time it comes to the time to sleep or he’s staying up working on something.
Normally he’ll get to a point where he physically doesn’t have the energy to keep working.
When it comes to that he’ll pull you away from whatever you’re doing and maybe grab a ball, something to wear both of you down, to toss around while you have a conversation.
Some of your most meaningful conversations have come from the two of you sleep deprived and trying to wind down.
Jinx
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Midnight rants are nothing new for either of you.
Jinx has trouble sleeping in general so you having similar problems just gives her more time to spend with you.
Sometimes you stay up working on your separate projects.
Occasionally she’ll read to you or vice versa.
When the sun goes down is the best time to get and give manicures so either you’re painting and shaping her nails or she’s holding your hand in a touch so delicate it’s like she’s afraid you’ll break as she ever so carefully does yours.
Silco
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He’s normally going to stay awake longer than you doing work. It’s a rare occurrence that the opposite happens.
When those do though, he’ll come over to you with a glass of alcohol or tea that he intends for you to steal and drape himself over your backside.
He’ll place the drink down and start tracing all over your body as he tries to coax you to bed.
Some nights end in massages as he speaks words in a tone which seems to be made specifically to lull you to sleep.
Other nights may end in more strenuous activities and well, he wasn’t going to complain.
Viktor
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Most nights Viktor spends in the lab until he falls asleep and if he’s not in the lab then he’s in his home with notes sprawled out.
Some nights though, the chronic disabilities creep up and make him too tired to do the work he normally does and if you’re awake on those nights he’ll try to stay awake with you.
He’ll ask you questions about whatever it is that has been taking up space in your mind and genuinely want to know the answer.
He’ll try his best to listen and if you ask him the next day what you talked about he’ll be able to recite things up until he fell asleep so his interest is genuine.
On those days though, he’ll normally fall asleep leaned up against you and it’s left to you to help him get to bed properly.
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astudyincontrasts · 2 years
Text
Partition
Silco x Fem!Assassin Reader NSFW
HAPPY BIRTHDAY @six-feet-sleep !!
Six asked for a birthday gift that was basically you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid featuring Silco and a very brassy assassin in his employment. In a car. Two tops trying to top each other. (And yes, one of them does say the quiet part out loud lmao.) 
No Y/N reader, dirty talk, angry sex, car sex, two tops trying to top each other, lots of sass, should be s/d but its d/d lmao, public-ish sex I suppose, bit of a power imbalance but don’t tell them that, some parts could be construed as dub con but trust me they are both into it.
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“You had one job.”
“And you of all people ought to realize there’s a lot of moving parts to one job.”  You shot back, rolling eyes at your own transparent reflection in the glass of the window, the undercity passing by outside the motorcar. “And if you don’t stop grousing and let me do my work I’ll accept one more job.”
A snap of your head over one shoulder brought his cold mismatched glare into focus and you bared teeth at him in a feral approximation of a smile.  How many men liked to tell you to smile for them?  Like they didn’t understand what it meant when a predator showed its teeth.  At least Silco had never done that.  Yet.
“You think you don’t have a lovely price on your head, oh newly minted Eye of Zaun?”  You scoffed, flicked gazed up and down in him in a way that couldn’t fail to be translated as appraising and turned back to the window.  He didn’t need to know this was your very first ride in a motorcar and you would rather be entranced with the feeling of motion not under your control, watch the world go by faster than you could run.  “You’ve got a few people want you gone.”
There was a moment of tense silence in which you could hear the leather of the gloves he wore straining over his knuckles as his fist tightened.
“And I hope you know I would pay handsomely for their names.  More handsomely to return the favor of their request.”  The sound of his voice when he spoke through gritted teeth was music to your ears.  Sure it was a perverse delight, pushing his buttons, but a girl had to get her jollies where she could. 
He just sounded so... good, when frustrated.  A timbre to his anger that was delicious in a way you didn’t care to interrogate too deeply.  Just accepted it and then tried every which way to provoke it while still keeping your neck firmly attached to your shoulders.
“Mmn.  We both know you can’t afford it.”  Leaving your fascination with the window you turned in the seat beside him to offer him the full weight of your attention since he so obviously craved it.  “Yet.”
Oh yes he smiled thinly, tightly, at that, teal eye narrowing as that horrorshow red just bore into you motionless.
“Let me do my one job and maybe you will, soon enough.”
He sat back at that, stared up at the ceiling (or was it roof?) of the motorcar in longsuffering impatience. 
“Oh indeed?  And do tell; when is soon enough?  A year from now?  Two?”
He rounded back on you, all that heat he kept balled up inside leaking at the seems, fire licking at the grates of the searing hot furnace. Suddenly too hot, he yanked those gloves off one finger at a time.
“You were employed because I had assurances you were the best.  I’m starting to think your reputation came highly inflated.  Not the least because you are without a doubt the most insufferable employee I’ve ever had the dubious joy of working with.”
“Oh but it is a joy, isn’t it?”  You shot back, all sugar coated venom and a sharp grin to match. “I am the best and you know it.  It’s hardly my fault you need to micromanage every tiny detail.  You are the one impeding my work, not me.”
“Oh?  I forgot its foolish to want things done on time.”
Teeth grit so hard you swore molars would crack as you leaned forward, grip of hands tightening on the plush velveteen edge of the bench seat of the motorcar.
“Oh?”  You mimicked his dripping-with-derision tone and inflection.  Perfect mynah bird and knew how to use it to best effect.  Watched with pleasure as it drew him back slightly to practically hear his own voice out of your mouth, “I forgot its foolish to want things done right instead of rushed.”
He didn’t sputter at your flawless imitation, but it wasn’t too far off.  Perhaps blustered was a better word, but then again he didn’t debase himself that far.  Still, it gave you no end of delight to watch him gall.  
“I..!”
“Uh, uh, uh...I...”  You mocked him openly, and peeled one hand from its grip of the seat to push a finger into the oversized lapel of his ridiculous coat.  Watched the rage absolutely come to a head.  Any second now steam would start whistling out of those adorably large ears.  “You want a heavily protected entire syndicate family dead and none of it traced to you.  You think I can just, what?  Drop from the ceiling and garrote them one by one in one night and that looks like natural causes or unfortunate accidents?”
One gloved hand came up, quick as a snake, you had to give him that, and simultaneously slapped the point of your finger away and grabbed your wrist.  Fingers tightened until you could feel your bones grind together and in spite of yourself it made your mouth purse and had you hunching forward a bit against the delicious little spike of pain shooting up your arm.
“Treat me like an idiot one more time...”
“I’m the one being treated like an idiot here!  You paid for my skills, bloody trust them already.  Unless you’d rather reneg?  You know the policy.  No security deposit back.  And then no other cleaner in this city will trust you to accept a contract.  You’ll be stuck with your big knucklehead muscle and good luck doing things...how did you put it?  Surreptitiously then.”
Chipped teeth bared and you knew you had him dead to rights, knew he knew it too.  The agonizing tightness of his grip eased, slightly, but he still kept hold and jerked you forward right into his personal space.  Of course he smelled like the citrus of lime cream slicking back that dark hair, expensive cologne with a base of cedarwood and layered over it all the spice of cigar like a stocked humidor.  The rich ones always smelled so good, always had a fresh shower and the latest scents.  At least his was subtle, not nostril searing or ostentatious.
“I swear to Zaun, if you do not stop insulting me I will-“
He cast about for consequences to assign to your actions and you smiled, though the curve of it faltered when you were struck with the sudden realization that he was not glaring into your eyes or even at your face in general.  No, he was gazing quite steadfastly at your mouth.  At how your tongue had darted out to wet your lip in anticipation of sassing him once more.  The pupils of both the monstrous eye and the pretty colored teal one blown ever so slightly.
Oh that was interesting.
“Or you’ll what?”  You taunted dryly, tone a bit less shrill and pitched lower than your previous haranguing. “Kiss me?”
Thin lips peeled back further from ruined teeth as he gave the wrist he held a little jerk.
“I was thinking more along the lines of throw you out of this vehicle at maximum speed and find someone who could finish the job.”  He returned in a low growl.
“Really?”  You reached forward with the hand he held by the wrist, grazed fingertips down his throat and watched with elated satisfaction as both those pupils dilated all the wider while he struggled to try to tear attention off the shape of your mouth and back to your eyes, failing each time after a few seconds.  Down you stroked and caught hold of his silk tie, gave it a little tug of your own.
“You could, I suppose.  But no one else you get will give you the same satisfaction as I can.”  This was getting more and more fun.  You’d thought bratting and irritating him to no end was the height of pleasure.  Upstart gutter rat trencher just like yourself all high and mighty and too full of big words for his own good. No, this was even better.  Now there were stakes.
“I’ve had more satisfaction from a five dollar blow than I’ve yet to get from your so-called professional work.”  He spat back.  Still had that grip on your arm though, still suffering your toying grip on his tie.
“Ohoho!  I knew it!  I knew you patronized the cheap sex houses.  You’ll want to watch that in future, those are favorite hunting grounds for people like me.  So easy to get your mark when both his guard and his pants are down.”
All the blood drained from his face at once and for a moment as he reached for the door you were certain you’d finally crossed that invisible line you’d been toying with.  He was most assuredly reaching for the door handle and going to pitch you out onto the cobblestones.  
Instead he hit a button hidden under the armrest ledge of the door and a metallic brass partition slid upwards between the spacious back seat and the cramped driver’s quarters up front, gears grinding until it locked in place, and blocked sight and probably most sound from one of those massive, muscled goons driving the car and the other crammed into the passenger seat beside him.
“I have never!”  Ok now he was almost sputtering, drawing his face back to look affronted you’d even suggest he might darken the doorstep of a house of ill repute, let alone one of the cheap ones where you were as likely to be paying for the pleasure of catching the clap as you were for any kind of sexual gratification from the poor creatures that worked there.
“No?  Then I suppose its not the memory of what a good time you had with Toothless Tilda the Wet Whistler that’s got you so excited.”  Your gaze dropped to the indolent spread of his lean thighs and the obvious start of an erection straining against the placard of his pants.  “So then... that must be for me, hm?”
Silco steadfastly ignored the strain in his pants that was currently the focal point of your delighted stare, chin lifting haughtily and good eye narrowing.
“I’d rather stick myself in a sausage grinder.”  Still through his teeth, regardless of his attempt at a cool and collected affect.  And the fact he just seemed to be completely incapable of letting go of his grip on you.  Fully unconscious of how the blade of his thumb had stroked absently over the pulse point just above the thick black leather cuff bracelet you wore.
Your grin doubled in size as eyes flicked up from your admiration of his uncomfortable pants situation and you pulled on that tie you held, bringing him nose to impossibly sharp nose with you.
“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” Free hand snaked forward and you curled fingers to drag the tease of short nails over the obvious line of his hard cock, both of you listening in the pin-drop silence that followed your insult to the light susurrus of the sound they made against fabric.
It was a moment of perfect stillness.
A scant second before the shit hit the fan.
Then you were both a whirl of furious motion, a perfectly evenly matched fight of strike and deflection, grab and shove, at each other’s throats like street mongrels; snarling and laughter and grunt and groan.  A mad pull at each other and clothes.  You feinted a lean in for a kiss and he snapped at your face like a shark before he dove for his own attempt and you jerked face aside, leaving him to land on your throat.  He mauled it and you grabbed for his crotch again, hard palming squeeze that had him gasping half pain, half want.
The motorcar rocked with the effort of the tussle between you both and eventually he caught you, got both wrists in his hands and you on your knees between his thighs, glaring happy hatred up at him like a mad thing as he held your hands slightly aloft.
“Insolent, insufferable, aggravating little -”
“How badly did the person who bought you that thesaurus regret giving it to you?”  You interrupted, thrilled to watch his face flood with heat as you cut him off yet again, “And was it immediate, or did you make them wait a day to wish for death instead of having to listen to you?”
Silco snarled and you made to jerk away whilst his anger distracted him, only to have him yank you back, twisting you in his grip so that you landed in his splayed lap, facing outward, arms crossed over yourself, pinned.  Nothing for it but to writhe and listen to breath leave him as your bottom ground against his constrained cock.
His face shoved into your throat again, sharp blade of that nose a hard nudge behind one ear, at the hook of your jaw, his mouth a hot press, hard suckle and teeth digging into delicate flesh anytime you had the temerity to make a soft little grunt of pleasure when he hit a good spot or sucked just right over pulse point.  Tongue rolled wet over the indents he left behind and you were wriggling.
Quick as you please his legs came together under you and then spread again, having hooked your knees up under his, spreading you over his splay of a lap.  One hand released a wrist, content to keep using your arm he had crossed over your other to keep both pinned tight.  
His free hand came sliding forward, slipped under the short hem of your dark skirt and caught a mercilessly tight grip of your inner thigh that had you squeak in spite of yourself.  He kneaded at the tender flesh in his grip before letting that hand slide out down the length of your thigh toward your knee, startlingly slow caress you had to stop yourself from purring at.
“Filthy fuck.  I knew it.  What is it?  You like being talked down to?  Just wanna be a little man after all, huh?”  Getting harder to keep up that domineering bratting at the warmth of those long fingers and how their touch tickled deliciously at the inside of your leg.
“If you don’t shut up I will find some permanent and unpleasant remedy for that smart tongue of yours.”  He rasped against the nape of your neck, front of teeth pressed to delicate skin.  “Think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
His hand came snapping back up your leg and buried itself under your skirt as his grip caught the shape of your cunt.  And hard as your legs tried to reflexively close, his own kept them spread as his fingers cupped, slid against what you both now knew was sodden fabric, and it was your turn to have heat flood your face as he chuckled softly behind you, stroking the damp fabric into primed folds to ruin it further.
“Wanted so badly to act like this is one sided, didn’t you?  That greedy cunt of yours is calling you a liar.”  Elegant long fingers curled on the  gusset of panties and in one swift jerk he’d torn them open, left them hanging off one thigh and fully destroyed.  
You were a liar if you wanted to say the thrill of that roughness didn’t send you spinning, have heart hammering joy fit to break your ribcage.  He flipped the front of your skirt up to bare your spread embarrassingly and fingers found you again, delved into silk slick glistening folds in a caress that was far gentler than it could have been, toying with your clit in little brushes and brief circles that had you arching back against him, head draped back over his shoulder as he released his grip on your other wrist and used the opportunity of your unwinding arms to slide his now free hand up under shirt, hand splayed over the soft outward arch of your stomach that the curve of your spine made, and fuck, you knew he could feel the soft, fluttered convulsion of muscle within that each toying pass of your clit earned.  The sweet electric thrill of skin on vulnerable skin trailing lines of lovely fire across your abdomen.
“You want to keep lying, little pest?”  Mouth found your ear, bit ticklish along it before his head dipped and he caught a hard, deep bite of the muscle that rose between shoulder and neck as his finger zeroed in on your clit and set your hips rolling as you whined.  He released the bite just long enough to speak again.  “Dripping cunt as if this is what I’m paying you for instead, and you want to tell me I look stupid?”
Mouth worked but words wouldn’t.  He was so fucking good.  None of the fumbling, messy, sticky gross pawing you’d suffered with boys in your youth or drunk bar conquests when you got desperate enough to want a quick roll.  Your head lolled on his shoulder but that bite wouldn’t let you get far.  Did let you turn head to nuzzle into that short-shorn hair over his ear, lick at the shell of his earlobe, hand opposite coming up to take a grip of the longer strands slicked back atop his head and scrape nails at the nape of his neck.  
Felt the grumble in his chest reverberate against your back.
You almost whined when he left off the quick, precise, exquisite little circles of your clit and slid his fingers lower, vee’d them out to spread your folds and the hungry gape of your entrance between fore and ring finger.  Middle digit dipping across, gathering the juicy wet you were practically drooling in tormenting passes as the open press of his other palm stroked slow upwards from navel to the curve of breasts.
The grip of his teeth released as he raised his hand and slid the sticky slick wet of his middle finger into his mouth to suck it clean with a soft hum of approval that had you sucking on your own lower lip as you watched him in profile.
“So much sweeter than all your bitterness would have someone believe.”  That red eye rolled, fixed you out of its corner as he smiled cruelly.  “Probably the only sweet thing about you, I’ll wager.”
Fucking bastard.  You shoved off your lolling arch and lurched forward, determined to turn this situation to your favor, grab the upper hand and make him bow to you instead.  He caught you too quickly, grabbed wrists once more and pinned them neatly behind your back as you struggled in a half crouch under the low roof of the motorcar, not enough space in front of you with nose nearly pressed to the elegantly bas relief etched brass partition to get free.
There was the pop of buttons and he hauled you backward again.  Straight onto his cock.
Air caught a choking gasp in your throat as the hot stretch of him spread you unceremoniously and it was only how messily wet you were that allowed for the give that slid you down him and buried him to his hilt in the eager grasp of your cunt.  And you sat there, mouth agape, eyes wide, looking fuck-dumb before anything had ever even begun.  Sweet Janna, he was huge.
The bulge you’d ran fingers over and ground against had felt substantial but... you hadn’t fully realized.  Just the stretch of him was enough to keep solar plexus in a taut clench that prevented breath from restarting, and when you felt the length of him twitch inside of you there was no helping how you rocked forward slightly, curled comma as a long, low moan finally escaped.
And he laughed behind you, the bastard. Tightened his grip on the wrists pinned at the small of your back and let you just sit there on his cock.
“Go on, pest.  Fuck yourself.  That seems to be what you’re good at with how you run that pretty mouth.  Or maybe it’s fucking me?  Sure seems that way with how you’re dragging your feet on your work.”  
It had you grit teeth and glare coldly dead ahead.  And not move an inch. 
“Yeah, you like it that way don’t you?  Me working my ass off while you just sit there being snide and bossy.”  You spat back at him, refusing to rise to the rather delicious bait.  Instead you straightened and clenched.  That had him suck a breath and broke a dangerous, deadly grin across your face once more.  And so you sat there, feeling yourself dripping down onto his balls as you squeezed and squeezed in slow waves that had him crushing your wrists in a desperate grasp as he stifled some absolutely wonderful noises behind you.
And then the motorcar hit a pothole or some kind of obstruction in the road and bounced you both.
The gasp that escaped each of you was simultaneous and the way you kicked the back of the driver’s seat under the partition was pure reflex, and hard.
“Boss?”  The deep rumble of a voice from the front seat was exceedingly muffled in spite of how loud it must have been on the outside, “Everything ok?”
“YES!”  A tandem shout from you both stopped any further queries before Silco raised his voice, nearly deafening your right ear.
“Lock!  Take a right on Old Levy Road and stay on it!”
His grip on you flexed finger by finger and you felt a cold little sweat prickle on the nape of your neck and small of your back.  Old Levy was one of the most ancient roads in the undercity, still covered in messy cobblestones that could turn a careless walker’s ankle.  The car lurched right in a hard turn and you were done for.
Bouncing didn’t begin to describe the way the motorcar rattled along, jolting the pair of you in an erratic up and down that had you practically keening as you bobbled on his cock, impaled again and again and again in a motion you could not control or predict, driving him up into your belly hard.  And sweet Janna, it felt divine.  His grip relaxed, shifted to one hand to hold both wrists as he caught a grasp of one bouncing breast and thumbed over nipple until you were rocking antithesis to the jerking ride.
“There we are pest.  Stop being so contrary.”  He sucked a breath at one significant bounce.  “Hnnm... aren’t you tight?  If we didn’t have to answer for your delay I’d have the car just drive up and down this road all evening until I was sure you were used up and that tight little cunt was nothing but a sloppy mess.  I think I’d love hearing you beg instead of mouth off for once.”
Silco’s hand fell to span your stomach once more pressing like he might feel himself from the outside buried and impaling within you with each new cobblestone.  And then down again to find your clit.  Didn’t have to do much, just hold in the right spot and you rubbed against fingers with each inevitable motion.
“You...you’d be the one begging before I would.”   You shot back as teeth rattled and a stammer helped keep too much of moan from your voice.  “I’d squeeze the cock right off you...”
Big words as you shimmed and jolted and bounced on him, not every motion the fault of cobblestones as you tried for length and depth, riding him hatefully hard, coming down crushingly and hoping he could feel it like a kick in the belly each time.
“Hateful little pest.”  He groaned against your shoulder blade and made it sound like praise.  All the fine buttons and clasps and ornaments of his ridiculous coat and that intricate waistcoat digging into your back and arms.  His grasp was failing however, and you could practically feel the tension stringing through the tops of lean thighs you sat upon mirroring the wonderful taut clench building in the pit of your stomach.  You pulled wrists free and braced hands on his knees to bounce hard, harder.  Fuck, so good...lifting nearly off him each time only to come back down hard.  Faster, more, his hands a grip on your hips until you landed hard on him and came undone, curling forward as every muscle convulsed a chorus of ecstatic release, leaving you clenching the girth of him in fitful hard flutters as he pulsed and growled out a breathless groan behind you. Glorious constellation brilliant and blinding spangled across the backs of your fluttering closed eyelids.
Hot flood in the pit of your belly that had you rock back against him bonelessly and thank god that damned old road came to an end on a far smoother surface.
He had arms wrapped around you and face buried in your neck as he twitched out the last of his orgasm within you.  Keeping you close as hands smoothed up to cup the underside of breasts, down to slip along the insides of still quivering thighs.  His mouth warm on your jaw, nudge of his nose against the hollow of your cheek and breath a fan over sweat-beaded skin.
“Don’t move, pest.  Don’t move.”  His voice gone ragged and panting in a way you hated to admit you liked almost as much as the way it sounded when you got him mad.
You did move, however, just to turn your head and were rewarded with him catching your mouth, cruelty he wanted to pour into the kiss softened with his own delicious release.  Still, it was ravenous, nipping, tongue a roll and press against your own eager one. 
He broke it to draw breath and again came that echo of his soft, mirthless laughter.  Like he was so proud of himself.  
Well, if he was smart he wouldn’t give you a next time to get the upper hand.  Something told you he wasn’t going to be that clever.  Something in the way he drug fingertips slowly across the line of your jaw, in the way he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid you spread back on the seat to clean you up before he did himself, yet left enough of a mess that you’d be sure to feel it dribbling down one thigh as you stood at the meeting later when you both finally arrived.  In the way he pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, terribly trusting that you wouldn’t take the ripe opportunity to further crack a few more of his teeth, and in how his thin smile quirked at its edges to watch you fight the stiffness in your gait later.
No, he was a prideful, hateful, hungry bastard and you’d get your chance soon enough, you knew it, to show him who was boss.
361 notes · View notes
ghostchems · 2 months
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masterlist
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ONGOING
infernal | nsfw | parts: one/two/three/four | ao3 link
papa emeritus iii x fem reader Terzo is serving a death sentence. It isn’t like he had much of a choice. He remembers the game night clearly. The typical arguments and accusations of cheating had subsided and it was a rare moment of fun and relaxation with his brothers. The next thing he remembers is waking up on a gurney and gasping for air. They told him his brothers were dead. They told him they had removed his head for a photoshoot and then reattached it again. They gave him a choice: die now or take their money and never speak to them again.
the devil’s damsel | nsfw: non-con | parts: one/two/three/four | ao3 link
papa emeritus ii x fem reader after one mistake, you end up in the belly of the beast
cemetery stroll | nsfw | parts: one/two | ao3 link
papa emeritus ii x fem reader a creature interrupts your evening walk through the abbey cemetery.
bad idea right? | nsfw | parts: one/two | ao3 link
raphael x fem tav your companions have made their stance on making a deal with a devil clear but as the stakes of your quest grow you aren't so certain
COMPLETED
*the titles link to the tumblr post. ao3 links included for all! for fics with multiple parts, i linked the last part bc i am lazy :) there are no tumblr links for burn with me because its an ~ao3 exclusive~ (i stopped consistently posting the chapters on tumblr the longer it went dhdjsjsj)
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papa emeritus iii
cirice | nsfw | ao3 link
you are searching for inspiration at the site of a local urban legend but something beckons to you
kazoo comfort | sfw | ao3 link
you take a break from your daily duties to clear your head when you run into a cozy-looking retired papa
the rose | sfw | ao3 link
terzo reminisces about simpler times
upiór | nsfw | ao3 link
upiór (n.) - a person cursed before death, a person who died suddenly, or someone whose corpse was desecrated
the wedding guest | nsfw | ao3 link
you have just gotten over a break-up and attend a wedding of a friend alone. a man with face paint distracts you from the festivities
the cardinal’s cure | nsfw | ao3 link
cardinal terzo notices you seem a bit stressed and he has perfect solution
gloves | nsfw | ao3 link
you are the resident glove maker at the abbey and cardinal terzo comes to you with a curious request.
you drive me (crazy) | nsfw | ao3 link
the prompt: Now that Terzo has retired he has to take driving lessons because Imperator won't let any of the ghouls drive him around anymore. Reader is hired to teach him but what happens when love (or just sex) gets in the way of his lessons?
a man after midnight | nsfw | ao3 link
the prompt: looking at the mirror but the reflection isn't. looking. at. you.
the phantom touch | nsfw | ao3 link
when copia is gone, the phantom comes out to play.
the dressing room | nsfw | ao3 link
the last show of the popestar tour has concluded with Papa being dragged off stage. your task is to keep him occupied in his dressing room
smoke break | sfw | ao3 link
you find solace and a private place to smoke when you are caught by the new papa.
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cardinal copia
burn with me | nsfw | ao3 link
It’s been a long time since Copia has been able to play with his food.
restroom detour | nsfw | ao3 link
you're out with your friends at the new local hot spot: the pinnacle lounge. a trip to find the bathroom has you stumbling into something not for your eyes.
road rage | nsfw | ao3 link
as copia's assistant, you've found a nonconventional way to keep your boss calm.
oops | nsfw | ao3 link
copia makes a mistake while summoning a new ghoul.
upiór | nsfw | ao3 link
upiór (n.) - a person cursed before death, a person who died suddenly, or someone whose corpse was desecrated.
devotion | nsfw | ao3 link
the cardinal™️ doesn’t feel that you’ve been a good little sinner lately.
boys suck | nsfw | ao3 link
dracopia with the prompts: that gut feeling something is following you & having blood smeared all over you
the cream in cardinal copia's coffee | nsfw | ao3 link
you are blessed with the task of making the new cardinal his coffee each morning and on your first day, you forget the evaporated milk.
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papa emeritus iv
the sads | sfw | ao3 link
you've fallen behind on your classes at the ministry because of an episode of the sads.
somethin’ spooky | nsfw | ao3 link
you've secured an invite to an exclusive party at a satanic church only to end up being underwhelmed by the lack of "spooky".
have some sympathy and some taste | nsfw | ao3 link
you become charmed by a spooky live performance at a bar you wandered into.
wrong place, right time | nsfw | ao3 link
you work at a local concert venue, specializing in requests from the music acts. one request and one warning slips your mind.
on leather wings | nsfw | ao3 link
copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time
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papa emeritus ii
la bella luna | nsfw | ao3 link
after a disappointing evening, you run into a mysterious man on the street.
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mary goore
baptized in blood | nsfw | ao3 link
you will never forget the day Mary Goore rolled into town.
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silco
thief | nsfw| ao3 link
desperate for shimmer, you steal some from the last drop and make your escape
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parvulous-writings · 2 years
Text
SFW alphabet // Silco
Summary: SFW alphabet for Silco, from Arcane
Warnings: None
Notes: Dearest @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​ , may your simp be satisfied  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!
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Not my gif
A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Silco isn’t one for what you may call “typical affection”, especially not in public. He doesn’t really give any physical affection in public - though he will make sure that people know that you are with him, and under his protection. In private there’s lap sitting, hand holding, and snuggles in bed - not that he would reveal this to anyone. 
B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)
Silco is the quiet, meditative but ultimately very sinister friend. He is quiet, and listens to everything you have to say - stepping in for a word or two when he deems necessary. He’ll get things done for you - so long as you don’t ask how he does it. 
C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Sometimes. But only in bed, when he’s certain that either no one will disturb you, or when he thinks you’re asleep. 
D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)
Silco can cook and clean for himself, but usually doesn’t. As for settling down, he’s not a typically domestic person, but would not refuse a family if it ended up in his lap. 
E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
First, he would calmly and bluntly explain the situation. Then, if you continued to resist this reality, he’ll have you escorted (or rather dragged) from the premises. 
F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?) 
It’s hard to make out what’s Silco’s feelings on marriage are - but his streak of commitment is largely unbroken. So unless you make some sort of deep emotional or physical wound, you shouldn’t have much of a problem. 
G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)
Physically, he’s not always gentle, but emotionally he’s more in touch than you would first assume. He’s careful, calculated, and almost always knows exactly how to act - though you can’t always tell when he doesn’t know. 
H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)
He’s not always keen on hugs. When he normally has them, he’s the one receiving them, and then slowly reciprocating them. 
I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)
It takes him a long time to say anything in that vein at all. The first time he does it is almost totally unexpected, though you’re not exactly a stranger to the normal kind of affection he gives. It takes him longer to say the L word directly, but he gets there. 
J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)
He can get incredibly jealous, and you can see him start to get jealous too. He’ll start to sneer, then he’ll start to grip onto something - usually a glass - before barking at you to join him by his side, and keeping you there. 
K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Normally, kisses are brief, featherlight, almost blink and you’ll miss it. He often kisses you with more intensity before you both go to sleep. He likes kissing your jaw, whilst he likes kisses on the cheek and temple. 
L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)
He’s surprisingly good with kids - look at how he took care of Powder/Jinx, for example. For such an ordinarily cruel man, he can be rather caring, once you get past that hard, outer shell. 
M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)
Quite lavish, in a sense. Though you don’t get to spend all of your morning with him, what you do get to spend with him is rather full of the best things that the Undercity can afford, before Silco starts about his day. 
N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)
Nights are slow - usually you dine together, share a drink or two whilst Silco discusses some of what had happened that day, before you go to bed. 
O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)
Very rarely, almost never. The only time he does is to teach you some sort of lesson, but other than that, some parts of Silco are an entire mystery. 
P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)
His patience is almost a double edged sword - in some ways, his patience has no end, and in others, his patience wears thin almost immediately. Though - he does not lash out at you directly; that honour is saved for his lessers, and occasionally the belongings in his study. 
Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)
A whole damn lot - he knows almost as much about you as you do, not that you remember telling him. He just seems to innately know. 
R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)
He managed to “catch” you in his old operation centre once - staring out the window that he himself had so often gazed out of. Though, for a while, you hadn’t known he was there, that image of you gazing out almost curiously into the dark waters of Zaun was burnt into his memory. 
S - Security (How protective are they?)
Very. It doesn’t matter if he knows you can defend yourself - there is always a threat, and he is determined to protect you from it, no matter the cost. 
T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)
On the surface or first glance, it may not seem like much - but Silco pulls so many strings to make sure you’re happy -rearranging his schedule because you made an off-hand 
U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)
He smokes and he drinks. Not excessively - he uses it as a vice, being a man in a position such as his is a stressful job, and habits like those are always within arms’ reach. 
V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
He is slightly insecure about the scarring around his eye - and he is very aware of how he must present himself to others, and sometimes gets very caught up in that. 
W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
If you were very close to him, then yes - your absence would probably also frustrate him a lot. 
X - Xtra (Random HC)
He used to try and dye his hair to hide the grey streaks - he started getting frustrated with how the dye often got everywhere.  He also secretly wants a cat, but dually does not want to keep an animal in such a detrimental environment. 
Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)
Someone who’s entitled without proper reason to be so. If you haven’t worked to get to a certain place, then he doesn’t believe you deserve it - especially if you gloat about it and abuse your position. 
Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)
Silco is a very restless sleeper - he’s often plagued with nightmares and night terrors, but not many people know about this, and he’d like to keep it that way. You and Jinx are the only ones who know. 
158 notes · View notes
shimmerforall · 2 years
Text
Silence
Summary: Being too mouthy at a client gathering, Silco finds a creative way to keep you quiet.
Pairing: Silco x F!Reader 
Rating: 18+, Minors DNI
Warning: Gag kink, Slight dom/sub, unprotected sex, degrading language, PinV, Aftercare 
Thank you to @all-hallows-evie @twistedstitcher27 and @aerynwrites for encouraging me to write this. I hope it doesn’t disappoint. 
You stumbled into Silco's office, nearly tripping over yourself as he followed suit. Currently, he had just dragged you away from a potentially very profitable meeting downstairs due to your manners. Well more like lack there of.
All evening you had allowed your hands to wander under the table trying to get a reaction out of him. While he was standing addressing others you made sure to saunter up to him giving a quick tease here and there.
You clearly had pushed all the right buttons as you thrown with some care, onto his desk. Holding the upper half of your body down he flipped up your skirt exposing your bare ass and cunt.
"Not wearing anything underneath? How would you explain to our guests the mess you would've made of your legs?"
"I would just tell them you were the one that caused it," you giggled and let out a small squeak as he slapped your ass lightly. 
You jumped as you brushed up against his pants. Despite the discontent he portrayed, he was unable to hide how hard he was for you.
You whined as you rubbed your already wet cunt against the front of his pants leaving a very prominent stain. 
“I don’t know what has gotten into you tonight but I will not tolerate it.” 
You smirked cheekily as you backed up against his crotch once again. “Nothing has gotten into me,” you purred, “I don’t understand why you are so upset, Silco.” 
You let out a yelp as the palm of his hand landed flatly on your ass cheek. Your skin stung as you could already feel a mark forming. 
“You’re going to tell me that you haven’t been pining for my attention as I try to conduct business?” 
You turned your head to look behind him. Putting on your best pathetic pleading face, your voice upping a pitch, “I just want you that’s all. I want you all to myself.” 
You let out another cry as he smacked the other cheek. 
“Hush, princess. We don’t need our guests to hear.”
“Well, they already saw with their own eyes how badly I-” you let out another mewl as his hand came down again, this time closer to your entrance which you knew was glistening by now with arousal. Immediately you let out a hoarse groan as his fingers in a v-shape were rubbing against your entrance, stopping just at your clit, just a breath away from touching you. 
You heard some ruffling of clothing as you trembled with excitement, giddy with the idea that you were finally going to get what you wanted. 
“Open up.” He ordered
“What, why- mmph!” 
Your mouth was suddenly full of fabric as Silco pushed the rest in. 
“There, that should keep your mouth occupied.” 
You tried to pull the intruding fabric out but Silco slapped your hands away. “This is the only way I can keep you quiet, darling,” he sneered as he pushed you back onto the desk. You tried to see what was in your mouth as you notice Silco’s shirt was open and his cravat was nowhere to be found. 
Did he just do what you thought he did? 
You garbled around his cravat as he slid in with one smooth movement. Your cries muffled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 
“Such a mouthy little whore you are,” he hissed in your ear as he thrusted up wards as your ass touched his pubic bone. You howled as you felt him reach deeper into you than he ever had before. 
He kissed the side of your head gently, “Remember what to do if this becomes too much” he whispered. Waiting for your acknowledgement he returned back to what he had intended to do. 
With your hands pinned behind your back you were unable to hold yourself up properly and was only being held up by Silco and well…to put it poetically, his dick. 
He pulled out slowly, dragging his cock along your sensitive walls your mouth was already watering from having something in it and from the delicious feeling of him. 
“This was one of my favourites,” he stated, pretending to sound disappointed, “And here it is being dirtied by your filthy mouth.” 
You moaned in acknowledgement as you lurched forward as he thrusted back into you. You were seeing spots with every motion. Leaving you on your tippy toes, he ground against you.
“So warm, so wet,” he panted as his other hand gripped your hips.
“At least these lips don’t give me attitude.” he joked as he continued to fuck you. 
You knew that the gag was useless, you knew that your guests could most likely hear the event going on behind closed doors. Your muffled cries and sobs seemed to become amplified with your full mouth. 
Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you continued to be pushed to the brink. His earlier teasing and your inability to keep a dirty thought from entering your mind had your pussy throbbing before the entree even arrived. Now you felt like you were hanging off the edge. You kept trying to come, you squeezed your walls around him, slammed back up to meet his thrusts but nothing worked. 
You laid your head down, letting out a frustrating squeal as sweat dampened hair stuck to the desk as your face rubbed against the fine wood. Your body shaked and you pleaded through the gag.
“Do you want to come?” He asked as his pace became more erratic. He had full view of his cock stuffing into you. It glistened with your juices as the short hair around him was also damp with your release. He had to admit he was hypnotized by the view. His hands prints framed around your entrance as he saw your legs clench together whenever he had tickled a sensitive spot inside you. 
By now the gag in your mouth was fully soaked and drool was graciously trailing down your chin and mixing with your tears on the table. To say you were a hot mess was an understatement as Silco assaulted your senses. 
“Do you want me to stuff you full of me? Be my little cum dump?” 
Your stomach clenched as you were struck with a surge of pleasure. Silco’s entire body was now caged over yours as his free hand moved towards your clit. 
“Come on, this is what you wanted,” baiting you as you tried to clamp down on your climax. 
Your grunts heightened as he kept pulling you to what you wanted. You mumbled through the gag not to stop. You must’ve sound unhinged as incoherent noises came from you. 
“Finish with me darling,” this was an order, not a suggestion or a question. 
Through the ruined gag you screamed out his name as you came apart around him. Your walls clamping down on his cock as he bit your shoulder as white hot cum filled you deep inside. 
You felt yourself lose strength in your legs as wave after wave of your orgasm moved through you and Silco continued to pump, albeit, less so, the remainder of his release into you. 
You felt Silco swear into your skin as he sloppily pulled out of you. With the lack of support you felt yourself tumble to the floor. Silco had anticipated this and grabbed onto you immediately. 
“I’ve got you love,” he unstuck the hair that clung to your face, as he sat you down on one of the love seats. 
He gently held your chin as he pulled the gag out of you and you wiped the spit from your chin. Your mouth was dry from the fabric and your throat was sore from all the noises you made. 
Taking a napkin from his breast pocket he carefully wiped away the tear stains and the makeup that managed to mix with it. 
You gazed at his face, his eyes narrowed in concentration and a small smile danced on his lips. One that you only saw on rare occasions, when the two of you were alone. 
Reaching to the side, he grabbed a glass of water that was resting on the end table as he handed it to you, “Drink,” he cooed as he tried to smooth your hair out. 
“Are you alright, love?”
You gulped down the water eagerly, as you nodded a yes. 
“Though, I am worried I ruined your outfit for the night.” Hinting at the cravat that was now in a wet pile on the floor. 
“I have a back up, no harm done,” he responded as he kissed your forehead.
It suddenly dawned on you, “What, spare?” you looked at your cup and noticed how the curtains in his office were already drawn and one the lounge chair across from you saw your nightwear for the evening. 
“Silco! Did you plan this?” 
Silco chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose, “My dear…you know i never fuck and tell.”
Tag list: I really need to create one for this blog @ladykatakuri @kimageddon @eyecandyeoz @mysticalgalaxysalad 
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