I'm in between full length writing projects and work rn which is why I haven't posted much content.
I'm working on a silco project and I just can't decide whether to make it x reader or oc. Ik everyone reads self inserts but I think I want to do something different idk
Me: No, he did them because he thought they were the right things to do. Mel manipulated Jayce.
New Fan: So Mel is bad person.
Me: No, because Mel just didn't know the right way to show love. She gave him power because she liked power but it ended up suffocating him. Mel did intend to use him at first but found herself still doing it after she fell in love because that's how her mother showed her to show love.
New Fan: So Mel's mum is a bad person.
Me: No, she's not. She just wanted to make sure he daughter would be strong enough to survive in cruel chaotic world and she did many horrible things but she did them from a place of love.
New Fan: So who's a bad person? 🤨
Me:
Me: The Arcane writers for not letting Jayce and Viktor hold hands, kiss, or hug.😒 Also for not making MelJayVik canon.
This particular scene between Mel and Jayce was my favorite. Jayce is so at ease at being vulnerable and expressing himself with Mel. When he laid his head on her lap, Mel was so surprised and shocked by it (look at her face in the first picture), she never expected him to put all his vulnerability out in the open like that. It’s soooo nice to see Jayce being vulnerable around Mel. I think it’s because aside from Victor, she was the one of the few who actually gave him a chance to complete Hextech. I mean she was obviously intrigued the moment he had to defend his research before the Council. I like the way their relationship progresses from here on out.
Jayce: Improving lives. Solving real issues, not just trade disputes. Viktor saved my life once. Now, he needs me and there’s nothing I can do. I hate feeling so useless.
Mel: I didn’t realize you were so close.
Jayce: He’s like my brother. ( exhales and lays his head down on Mel’s lap without thinking about it).
Mel: (Mel’s expression changes to shock). Why did you come to me with this? (not once considering this man adores her and wants comfort from someone he cherishes and admires and feels comfortable enough to do this. It shows Mel doesn’t open up so easily, even if they were intimate the night before. I also think some part of it had to do with Jayce being gone when she woke up and thinking it was a one-time thing.)
This moment when Jayce simply wanted Mel’s advice and reassurance. It wasn’t politically motivated or had anything to do with science. Ad Jayce admits it too! Which leads to Mel opening up about her own past.
Jayce: I just… Nothing feels impossible when I’m with you. (he gently grabs he hands, and Mel is searching for the right words, I think. It prompts her to open share about her family and that she’s an exile.)
Mel:( sighs ) I’m an exile from my family.
Jayce: (asked shocked) What? Why?
Mel: I fell short of Medarda standards.
Jayce (scoffs in disbelief, which was my exact reaction): I don’t believe that for a second. Do you?
Mel: You should be with him, Jayce. We can’t change what fate has in store for us, but we don’t have to face it alone. (I noticed Mel doesn’t react to his question and I really hoped we’d gotten a scene where the two continued to talk about Mel’s situation. Deep down I think she does believe she falls short of her family’s standards. [A fanfiction of this would be awesome!!]
Jayce (smooches the back of her hand as they both stare at Mel’s artwork) : It’s a beautiful painting.
Around episode 7, she’s encouraging Jayce to build weapons-something she knew he normally wouldn’t have done without reason. She thinks it’s what the city needs, and she’s encouraging it. However good to note that she doesn’t manipulate him to do this. Although it’s a suggestion, she only ever says “it’s up to you”. She didn’t force him in the same way her mother tried to force her, which is already a good start to this.
And then she remembers her mother. Her dream flashback where all she wanted was peace, when it was her mother encouraging the needless war. After that, Mel wakes up, and looks at Jayce.
Any and all “manipulation” (if you call it that, I mostly see her just trying to keep what power she has given her childhood), stopped from that point on. She almost let herself slip, almost became who her mother wanted her to be, and then she realized she had a choice. She can make her own choices now.
Then? Even though we’ve seen that Mel can sway council votes if she needs to, she never tries to sway Jayce’s opinion in any other way besides talking to him. She leaves it to him to figure out what he wants to do-evidentially he realizes she was right.
The ending where she takes off the Medarda ring speaks volumes. I feel like this is just showing she’s leaving her mother’s ways behind for good, and she’s finally sealing in her own person. In fact, to take it a step further, her non-verbal communication in the last few frames speaks volumes.
The one time we see Mel truly relax, drop her posture, and be anything but an upright refined woman, is when she’s here-smiling and looking at Jayce after he’s voted for peace with her. Her shoulders are dropped, and she’s slouched forwards slightly. You only see it change when she reacts to the missile that’s about to explode. Before that? She’s finally free.
There are so many beautiful things about Mel, and about their relationship as a whole, that once it all starts to click on place, it’s absolutely breathtaking.
"tumblr doesn't have an algorithm so likes are WORTHLESS they do NOTHING" well actually likes tell me that people liked my post. they have worth because they show me people saw my post and enjoyed it. that's still interaction even if it doesn't give an extra boost to make Number Go Up even more. yeah I generally get more out of written feedback in tags/replies but likes are still Something, they aren't people telling me "fuck you I'm not sharing your post" they're people telling me "hehe I give your post little a like as a treat."
NSFW hc (if you’re still doing them): Silco loves humiliating/degrading you
slowly but surely going through the 5 sentence prompts in the back of the fridge that i forgot about
NSFW 5 sentence prompts (read the rest here)
You moan — or try to, at least — around Silco’s cock, tears escaping through clenched eyes as he fucks your mouth without mercy.
“So eager to get on your knees,” he hisses, a tantalising groan lacing his words as he pulls you down his length slowly, until just the head of his dick remains in your mouth, “f-filthy.”
You groan, utterly cockdrunk, and hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling while your hand pumps up his shaft as the other stays pressed under his boot; a punishment for trying to sate the ache between your legs.
“Always running that mouth, so desperate for me to shut you up,” he says, unable to stifle a moan when you take him all the way to the hilt in one go, nose brushing his pelvis as he twitches and spills down your throat.
He scoffs as his thumb swipes a stray drop of cum from your chin after he’s caught his breath and adjusted his pants, smearing it onto your bottom lip, “Clean yourself up. We have a meeting to get to.”
even if you don’t ship ekko and jinx. their dynamic is undeniably so interesting, if only for the ways in which they parallel each other. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again they’re yin and ying. two sides of the same coin who represent the different parts of zaun.
jinx who represents the ways zaun can be dark and destructive, ekko who represents its vibrancy and perseverance. jinx who can’t move on because she’s trapped in the past and ekko who constantly hopes for a better future. jinx who invents to destroy and ekko who invents to repair
the way their fight scene alone paints them as light/dark and life/death. they’re each other’s mirror image. two people from similar circumstances who went down different paths in life but are always, inevitably a part of each other’s lives.
imagine silco wakes up with a huge ass boner in the middle of the night but his so is sleeping very tight. he feels bad waking them up but he can’t resist so he starts acting like a horny teenager, kissing their lover’s back and humping over their ass and…and…….sorry….
Never apologise for putting the words ‘Silco’ and ‘humping’ in the same sentence. One hotdog and a vanilla milkshake coming right up! 😘🌭
Stuck in a rutt
Silco x Reader || Silco POV || Established Relationship || NSFW || MDNI || Buttjob || Soft sleepy sexytimes|| Weary old man just wants boner to go away so he can get some sleep please god || Wc: 1.5K
Reader is gender neutral. No pronouns or anatomical descriptions used.
Thank you @insult-2-injury for beta-ing and to @sweatandwoe & @astudyincontrasts for early feedback 🖤
The edges of Silco’s typically razor-sharp mind are dulled by coils of sleep. He drifts around the fringes of consciousness; in and out of the shallow waters of a dream as thick and sweet as honey.
The curves and lines of your body recognizable to him even through the distorted lens of his dreamscape, bending and arching in a dance of pleasure. Soft sighs and moans formed from memories of your voice, and the sensation of your touch sending a whispering, frisson wave up his spine.
All of it a faded echo compared to the real thing of course, but nonetheless seductive enough to linger beneath his skin as a warm, yearning buzz when he lands fully on the side of wakefulness.
Silco’s singular, unpatched eye blinks groggily open. Dark, wooden rafters above the bed come slowly into focus as his vision settles. He drops his cheek to the pillow, deliciously cool against his skin, and his gaze goes to the small timepiece on the nightstand.
Hours yet before he’s due to rise for duty.
Shame his dick didn’t get the same message.
No need to look down at the covers to know he’s pitching a tent.
Silco exhales wearily through his nose, hand trailing down the length of his torso to adjust his erection more comfortably – tucking it up beneath the waistband of his loose, sleep bottoms. His palm remains flat on his abdomen, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath he takes in an attempt to drift back to sleep.
Inhale…
Exhale…
In…
Out…
In… and in… pushing ever deeper into your tight, warm—
Silco’s eye snaps open, molars grinding together with the set of his jaw. His skin feels too tight over his bones. Too hot. And his brain is full of susurrant whispers, diverting all thoughts south to the unsolicited request his body is deigning to make of him.
He expresses his displeasure in the form of a low, throaty grumble – quick and quiet so as not to disturb the nighttime peace of the room.
His hand slides down from his stomach to palm himself over his pyjamas. Just enough to alleviate some of the pressure as he tries once more to switch off his mind and body.
Inhale…
Exhale…
In…
Out…
In…
Out…
In… out… In. out. In out, in out, inout, inout inoutinoutinoutharder, faster—
Silco traps another frustrated growl behind grit teeth, and forces his hips to stop rocking up into the cup of his hand.
Pointless to try and suppress his arousal. He needs release if he ever wants to quell the maddening buzz beneath his skin.
His gaze falls to you, sleeping soundly at his side with your back to him, and his heart swells to aching in his chest. Gorgeous. He needn’t see your face to know it – he’s come in late from work enough times to be able to perfectly picture the smooth serenity of your features at rest.
Your ribs shift with each steady, sleep-slow breath. Blankets tucked cosily up to your shoulder, and hair a tousled halo upon the pillow.
Gorgeous. Heartbreakingly tranquil.
He could go to the bathroom. Briskly absolve himself of this torturous itch and leave you to sleep in peace. But the mere thought of dragging himself out of bed is repugnant. Certain parts of him may be wide awake, but that doesn’t mean he is. Silco is tired. He’s always tired. His mind is weary. His bones are heavy. The sheets are soft and warm… And you’re here…
Silco slots himself against your back, moulding to the length of your body, arms snaking around your middle in a gentle embrace that gathers you closer, further seeking to eradicate any space between you.
A sleepy hum drones low in your throat, accompaniment to the soft kisses he trails down the slope of your neck, little more than a brush of scarred lips upon skin. A noise of contentment, given how readily you nestle back deeper against him.
He battles the temptation to run his hands over you, to trace and tease and worship. He won’t disturb you any more than he must for his own sanity.
His mouth presses a little deeper into the crook of your neck, a whisper of tongue skimming your skin in time with the shallow rock of his hips. How is it that the fluttering lust in his stomach both abates and worsens with each careful thrust against the swell of your backside. The friction both easing and aggravating the heated pressure in his groin.
Another hum rumbles from your throat, more cognisant this time, and tinged with disapproval.
“I’m asleep,” you mumble, voice thick.
“I know darling, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, genuine guilt in his words, even as he draws the blade of his nose sinfully up the sensitive skin behind your ear, inhaling your intoxicating warmth deep into his lungs, “I simply can’t resist.”
Despite your quiet grumbling you tilt your pelvis just a touch, and Silco feels the pleasant shiver which runs down your spine in response to the warm huff of air he exhales over your nape as his clothed shaft slots shallowly into the cleft of your ass.
“Will you be good for me? Hm?” Silco begs softly in your ear, unable to suppress the urge to rock his hips into the inviting divot of your buttocks, “Will you allow me to be selfish with you? Let me use you for my own wicked gain?”
Yet another hum, long and low and drowsy, but warm with consent.
“Mmn, so good,” Silco whispers, lips pressing warm, lingering kisses down your jugular, over the curve of your shoulder, “Always so good to me. My sweet, lovely pet.”
“Y’owe me,” you slur, half-way back to sleep.
“Of course,” he promises, hand splaying in a sensual stroke down your stomach, thumb hooking over the band of your pyjamas and tugging them down over your bottom, “Relax now, love. Let yourself drift. Dream of how you might have me repay your generous favour.”
The corner of your mouth hooks up in a dozy smirk, and Silco leans over to press his lips to that small slice of a smile, pushing the constricting fabric of his own sleepwear down and out of the way.
His hand smoothes over the shape of your ass, thumb tracing the split of your cheeks, before spreading you apart and settling his cock in the warm canyon between your buttocks.
Silco can’t help the soft, throaty huff of relief that spills from his lips at the first rock of his hips. The sweet lick of pleasure in his gut is a merciful confirmation that he needn’t be buried inside you to achieve the completion he seeks.
The rhythm he sets is languid. Long, thorough strokes that have his hip bones grinding deep into the giving flesh of your backside. Sensitive cockhead sandwiched between the warm press of bodies, pearls of arousal smearing into the skin of his stomach and upon your lower back.
His breath stirs your hair, the blade of his nose grazing your scalp and lips parted in soft, blissful exhales against the nape of your neck. Arms a loving wind around you, hugging you close whilst he indulges in the heat of your buttocks. His eye flutters closed and he immerses himself entirely in every sweet sensation. In the molten pleasure which coils in his navel like a sun-warmed serpent.
Your glutes squeeze around his cock in drowsy pulses.
“Shhsh,” Silco hushes into the skin of your neck, his hand dragging to cup your buttock, pressing down to tighten the valley he’s fucking, “Rest, darling. You’re already dohing enough.”
Your sleepy hum is deep and encouraging, and to Silco’s sex-addled mind sounds deliciously salacious.
His thrusts quicken – chasing the tantalising promise of release that lays almost close enough to touch. Unable to bring himself to remonstrate you when you clench your buttocks around him once more, the vice-like squeeze sending the pressure beneath his skin through the roof, balls tightening almost painfully—
Explosive pleasure shoots up Silco’s spine like a flare, bursting inside his skull and flashing bright colours behind his eyes. Hot ropes spill up your back and over his stomach with each dwindling, climactic throb.
Silco relaxes deeper into the mattress, his body and mind melting like mist on the water – finally, sweetly released from his torment. His pulse a brisk beat despite his languorous movements.
“Thank you,” he breathes against your neck, praising you further with soft mothwing kisses upon your skin, “Thank you. My sweet… mgorgeous…” his voice tapers off, vision darkening behind the heavy droop of his lid.
“MnSilco,” you complain sleepily with a feeble prod of your elbow back into his ribs, “Clean up. Dirty man.”
“Hmnf,” he replies grumpily, blindly pulling both your pyjama bottoms up again and using the edge of the blankets to wipe away the worst of the mess, “In the morning,” he insists drowsily.
“Nmn,” you acquiesce as he settles down once more and draws you close against his front. The in-out drag of your breaths gradually syncing, and deepening as you drift off, together.
“hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me” is the funniest phrase because it always does. it always will. from personal experience things have already started to rouse from their slumber before i even get the first three words out
2087
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