whores-r-us

[whores-r-us]

[whores-r-us]

Rest of the pics are on bluesky but I'll share this here!

[whores-r-us]

wicked and divine (Zaundads - Arcane)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 6,346

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Silco Lives (Arcane: League of Legends), Or rather Silco gets resurrected by fanfic plot bullshit, Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucking, monsterfucker Silco, Size Difference, Blood Kink, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sex in a Mineshaft, Nipple Licking, Rimming, Porn With Plot

Summary:

It's the sound of a drum that finally wakes Silco from his death at the bottom of the river. ---- A newly Shimmer resurrected Silco wakes up in an Undercity he no longer recognizes. He takes shelter (it's not hiding, just a strategic retreat) in the old hideout where Vander apparently left him a shitty apology letter. But there's more than just Silco down in those abandoned mines. And it doesn't take long for old ghosts to kick up the dust of his past.

Heavily inspired by both @wishfulsketching beautiful art here (and all the discussion around it!), as well as @duesternis's fic Perpetually, which rearranged my brain so much that I wrote this entire thing in 12 hours! <3 special shout out to @kydrogendragon for being my brainrot beta too!

[whores-r-us]

Old Zaundads! God bless the Best Timeline™, mentally I'm still there.

Painting practice, 4ish hours, shamelessly Toulouse Lautrec inspired. Companion piece to this. Painted with reference (but used it less than last time, yay for improvement!).

[whores-r-us]

Okay let me add my five cents to the Zaunite au, where Viktor didn’t make it to the academy and remained in Zaun.

He was trying to invent on his own, but he desperately needed money for his research. And that’s when Silco appeared…

[whores-r-us]

We got zaundads canon before GTA 6

[whores-r-us]

good morning vanco nation we good???

that’s how yaoi cocaine overdose looks like

will render it later gays took my sleep tonight fr

[whores-r-us]

I can't stop thinking about them. Especially the way they look at each other so tenderly.

And then I remember how bad their relationship was in season one and wonder how they came to this "forgiveness"? It's obvious that even Vi's death wouldn't be enough to erase all those mistakes and hurts. But maybe it was her death that pushed Silko to take a step? He knows very well how hard it was for both him and Vander to lose Vi and Powder's mother, and now Vander is losing her first daughter, whom he raised and helped choose the name for. Maybe this prompted Silko to go to him? If not to console, then at least to talk. To say that this is why Lowertown should be stronger? Or maybe it was Vi's death that gave Vander the impetus to talk to the lawmen on equal terms. In this universe, we saw both sides of the city thriving together, so Vander's dream came true.

But what about Silko? What made him change so much, to retreat from his plans? Resurrected feelings for Vander? Maybe in this universe, Silko, after Vi's death, somehow finds the letter. Maybe he's trying to help Vander, but in his own way, quietly threatening all the dissatisfied. And there were probably some who didn't want peace. Maybe Vander told him something like he could only accept him when he could trust him? Maybe Silko has been a kind of protector from the shadows for a long time, protecting Vander and his family, until, for example, he practically sacrifices his life so that Vander wouldn't lose anyone else? It couldn't have happened overnight. It took years. Years of doing and changing. Years of building everything from scratch.

But as we see, one day Vander will forgive him, extend his hand to him and pull him into his arms. From which Silko will never leave.

[whores-r-us]

They really gave us everything though: old gay dads, cool straight (?) couple, badass lesbians, gay (temporary) rivals

+

bonus: jayvik together for eternity

I would be beaming from ear to ear if I wasn't so depressed about arcane being over for good

[whores-r-us]

A mood board

[whores-r-us]

i want a priest but not in a “i want a priest to fuck me” way, i want a priest in a “i wish there was a priest at the small church in my town. a priest so devoted to his faith he’d barely notice me but once he does? i wish to be only thing possessing enough power to bring him away from his God” way

[whores-r-us]

[whores-r-us]

Porogue.

Father Paul/John Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, P in V sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, mutual masturbation, lots of priest play, biting, pining, dom!Paul, semi established relationship, cum play, mentions of cervix, mentions of bite wounds.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

It's a storm to end all storms.

That was what Beverly Keane proclaimed at yesterday's service. The woman had a penchant for dramatics and often spoke with puritanical judgment. Folks were accustomed to the devout woman's manic ramblings, which meant she was never taken literally. However, when the Coast Guard reached out to warn the town to evacuate not but four hours before the storm was due to impact, Bev Keane stood, smug and proud.

"I had warned you, all of you."

Towns folk rushed towards the docks with their families, arms full of the few precious belongings they had. Sturge was helping them up the ramp and into the ferry, trying to explain that there was no need to panic. Dark waves sloshed and rolled under the boats. People were gasping and crying out below the blackening sky. Hysteria at its finest.

"You lot wrought this upon yourselves," sighed Keane, who stood on the dock, hands linked together. "Those of us who remained loyal to our faith, who filled the church every day and lived our lives devout and holy have no reason to fear. The Lord recognizes his own and will shephard us unto his raft to guide us through the storm."

Over half the population fled Crockett that dreary afternoon. Those who remained boarded their windows and hunkered down to ride it out. While the last ferry departed, Bev Keane smiled and turned to head back up the trail. Confident in the hopes that God would sort things out in the end.

° ☆ ° ☆ °

Candles warmed the room around you, while flashes of lighting illuminated the windows and caught your eye. When thunder clapped and shook the wooden frame of the rectory, you would suck in a sharp gasp and tense, which drew a low chuckle from the man above you. Rain impacts noisily against the glass windows, causing a steady hum.

"Relax."

A hand closes under your jaw and tips your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. Lips press against your skin, making you rumble and start to smile. "You are so strange," the words leave your mouth in a breathless sigh. "How can you not be at least a little afraid?"

He chuckles again, and you feel teeth graze your flesh. "I have much more important things on my mind." There was a pull to his words that brought moisture between your legs. Heat consumed you, twisting through your limbs and fogging your thoughts.

"Looks like you do too." His palm cups your mound. Embarrassment overtakes you as you realize you had soaked through your underwear. "Messy little lamb." Lips slotting together, the man kisses you with intensity. He parts your mouth with his own and scoops his tongue between your teeth. You can feel the way his nose pushes to your cheek and taste the remnants of the tea he had earlier.

Words fail you as you cave below him. The bed moves under you as he shifts your bodies and lays himself between your legs. Another flash of lightning, another gasp, this time it's for him. He presses the aching bulge against your core and leans his weight into you. You feel so small with his body caging yours, and the contact makes you simper.

"O-oh, P-paul,"

"I'm sorry?"

Paul's voice was lile velvet in your ears. Candlelight flickers in those obsidian eyes of his, and you watch his angular brows start to vex. Heat burned in your stomach, and you paw at the blankets beneath you.

"F-father, p-please."

A smile breaks the tension, and he drops his head down to gently kiss the middle of your forehead. He rumbles his praise against your skin, balancing himself on his knees and one hand while the other pulls your leg around his hip. You tilt and groan unabashedly as Paul starts to grind into you. The friction of his clothed cock pressing and sliding over your crease had your clit engoring with blood.

Head tilting back, your mouth hangs open as soft groans waft out. Paul was watching you, admiring every line in your face as he began bucking into you. Your body bounces, your cries coming out louder as he thrusts as though he were fucking you. The impact had you soaking more than before, leaking a spot on the blankets.

"U-uhn, hnn, p-please-" You felt frantic, desperately craving the Priest to bury inside and claim you as his. To carve through your insides and nestle himself in the furthest reaches of your cunt. The ache within your body called to him, your scent nearly driving the starving man mad.

"Patience is a virtue." Paul sat back against his legs before placing both large hands on your hips. Fingers gripped bruisingly tight as he hoisted you upwards against him, locking your pelvis to his so he could continue rutting. The man sighed, his eyes closing as he grunted and panted softly. Both of you mutually wind your bodies together in a frenetic desire.

Panting fills the empty space, and you're using the massive bulge between his legs to chase your release. Paul used you, too. His hands greedily squeezed and pulled you while his hips bucked to yours. "T-that's it." He gasps, his large thumbs pressing down into the front of your pelvis, causing a pleasant pressure inside of you that made you mewl.

Ravenous, the holy man watches as you fall apart. Chest heaving, skin flushed, and nipples showing through your tank top. "Look at you, little lamb," His voice purrs. "So beautiful, a spectacle to watch unfurl." Rolling his hips forward, Paul grinds his cock into your core and makes you whine. You are gradually rising now, the friction pushing you higher and higher. Smiling, he smoothed one large palm over your stomach as he moved it onto your breast. "Let me hear you." He pinches your pert nipple between his thumb and index finger, causing you to arch and cry.

"That's it, good girl."

Your face burns. Sweat builds in a thin layer on your skin as the sensation of bursting swells inside of you. Paul lifts off his legs to get a better angle and alternates slow grinds with firm, steady rocks of his hips. Each impact jostles your smaller frame, bouncing you under him and pushing cry after cry from your parted lips. "I-im g-gonna-" It was hurtling towards you full speed. You knew there was no use in trying to fight it. You could feel the burn of his eyes on your face, watching you as you fell apart.

"It's alright, my angel, let me see you."

Paul leaned over you, bucking himself against you just right. Your clit throbs, slick soaking through your panties and onto him as you gasp and jerk. Fireworks spark in your belly as the rush hits you. Your cunt clenches sporadically, your body shaking as you cum. Reaching your hands up, you curl your fingers into his arms, thighs shaking as he continues to grind against you. Paul coos, mesmerized by your face. When you rest back and relax, he leans and opens his pants to spring himself out.

With your head still spinning, you hardly notice him fist his cock. Eyes transfixed on your soaked underwear, the Monsignor inches closer and strokes himself against you. "S-such a messy lamb," his voice shudders with pleasure as his palm slicks across his length. "S-so beautiful." He sounds like he may cry, his dark eyes heavy with lids and lips parted. You look up at him, feeling your heart race at the sight. "P-please father, I need you to cum." Paul jerks, startled by your words and breath stopping in his throat.

That undid him. He bucked against his fist while you pulled your panties to the side. Whimpering and looking down, he groans as he cums. Hot, thick ropes spraying across your folds and fingers. You feel the heat as he drips inside your crease. "O-oh." He bucks one last time, a final spurt landing on your clit and dribbling downwards. Paul looks disheveled, breathless, as he settles down from his own high.

You were ready to speak when he dropped over you, impacting your lips with his own. Paul slips his large hand between your legs, using his nimble fingers to collect his cum and push it into you. You gasp, groaning into his starving mouth as he sinks inside your cunt to the knuckle. "Mh, p-paul-" He kisses your words and swallows them whole, adding a second digit which causes you to shriek into him. He pumps them inside of you, trying as hard as he can to reach your end with his seed.

Mouths and tongues lashing together, Paul slows his fingers right as you begin to buck against him. "So needy tonight," remarked the holy man as he licked over your kiss swollen lips. "I suppose you have been good enough to earn a little more. What do you say, my lamb?" His fingers curled inside of you, applying pressure to your gspot and bladder. Sparks flash behind your eyes, and your back lifts off the blankets. "Y-yes, p-please father Hill." You gasp, struggling to bring your eyes to his. The man flashes his teeth, and his eyes crinkle along the edges. His digits squelch inside of you as he begins to pump them faster.

"Since you asked so nicely." Paul nods, drawing his fingers out while you whine.

The loss of him makes your cuntache. Feeling no need to rush, Paul takes his time removing your sodden underwear and his pants. Carefully, he lays beside you and shifts you on your side, facing away from him. As he closes the distance between your bodies, you feel the cold press of his skin behind you. Paul lifts your leg and kisses behind your ear. "Keep this up for me, please." The delicate tone in his voice makes you throb, and you obey.

You feel the familiar prod of his cock and angle your hips back to make it easier for him. Paul guides his tip to your sopping opening and grunts with you as he presses inside. With a sudden snap of his hips, he submerges inside your heat and bottoms out. The stretch is immense, and you can already feel the tip nudging at your end. "G-god!" Your lip quivers and leg shakes, the muscle burning now.

As if he knew, Paul curls his frigid hand under your knee and holds your leg. Lips kiss at your shoulder as he starts liesurely rocking inside of you. The drag burning your cunt and making you whine. Eagerly, you shove yourself back against him, nearly sobbing each time he pushes fully inside and reaches your furthest depths. You're keening, whining, noisily falling apart for him as he rocks. Paul smiles against your skin, peppering you in soft kisses as he takes his time.

Thunder rattles the wooden frame of the rectory, but you hardly notice. Paul drives himself inside you faster now, spearing every inch of his aching cock deep inside your heat. More sparks are flying now, he's brushing everything right within you. You can hear him grunting and gasping behind you, his breath fanning your skin as he bucks his hips. His fingers dig into your skin as he plaps noisily against your ass. Paul grunts, his movements stuttering and becoming uneven.

It spurs something in you, and you fuck yourself back against him. "P-please, please!" You cry as he desperately stuffs himself inside you. Paul bites your shoulder, muffling his groan as he sinks to the hilt. You flutter around him, your abrupt orgasm taking you by surprise as you clench on his throbbing cock. Groaning louder, he bruises your skin as he empties directly against your cervix, the hot flood of his cum making you whimper and grind into him.

As he calms, he lowers your leg and pulls you into him further by wrapping his arms around you. Paul enjoys the rapid patter of your heartbeat, and he licks over the bitemark he left. You were melting, sinking back into him and closing your eyes as you smiled. "Thanks," you giggle, feeling him pause in licking you. "For distracting me from the storm. I think it helped quite a lot." His chest rattles with a soft chuckle. The two of you remained embraced while it continued to pour outside, safe and warm together from the storm.

[whores-r-us]

[whores-r-us]

"The way Daniel sits here with his arm around the back of the sofa, a conspicuously empty, person-shaped space right beside him..."

@speckled-jim

yeah he was just grabbing a snack

[whores-r-us]

“i’m a top” “im a bottom” okay??? im the vampire armand and my daddy vampire groomed me into a little BITCH. but the vampires who murdered my daddy made me pretend i didn’t have a DICK for 240 years

[whores-r-us]

masterlist

things can sometimes go awry with inventions.

warnings: viktor w/gn!reader, nsfw content, accidental fleshlight robot/machine, "trapped"/stuck, multiple orgasms, implied forced orgasms, overstimulation, 792 words

Viktor, who accidentally creates something that’s way off from what was intended. Viktor, who tries to experiment with it, poking around inside the tight, soft, suctioning interior of the cylinder. He presses his fingers in with just a little bit of lubrication to see why the device suddenly went tight when it's supposed to expand and contract to fit tubing, piping, any object–really–and then carries it from Point A to Point B.

But there’s a problem. It moves, but only a little bit. It adjusts to the side of what’s put into it, but not entirely. And when it tries to move, there’s something catching in the chain that only moves it a few inches back and forth, up and down. All parts almost work, and he can’t quite figure out what went wrong.

Viktor, who stays late in the lab one night to figure it out. The same Viktor who you've borrowed a notebook from. Who has some paperwork you manage to get Jayce to sign first, so you have to track down Viktor to finish it off. The same Viktor who is a stumbling, sweaty, wrinkly-clothes-covered mess when you nudge the cracked door open.

His head’s thrown back as you hear the soft whirring of the machine. Short bursts make up its movement, and there’s…another new sound in it. Something wet and squelching. There’s panting, too. Moaning. Viktor’s soft sounds as he keeps his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with a strained swallow, and a hand shoving that fluffy hair from his eyes. His lean frame starts to shake right as you gradually push the door open more, more, and a little more. And the movement’s just enough.

For you and for him.

The door gives way to Viktor's pants undone, his cane positioned underneath the machine and broken down the center, his chest heaving with every rough breath. And his cock stuck inside the adjustment tube. Where the machine just pumps and pumps and pumps at an endless speed. Stuck on. Stuck moving. Viktor's cock thick and red and…so much cum spilled over the other open end. 

"Ah," he says when his eyes land on you. His voice is weak, and he's shaking and blushing when you lock gazes. "I…I cannot…." His thighs flex, and he yanks hard on his hair as he cums again, the groans rough and needy as he trembles. "It is stuck. Would…would you please…?"

You hardly have a second to register your own internal reaction to the sight as you rush over. The machine is cables and buttons you don't entirely know how to work, but trial and error and instructions from Viktor, have it off with few mistakes. And even just your small fidgeting as you pull the tube from his cock has him wincing and whimpering. 

Last you left him with the machine was eight hours ago. 

The sun’s now creeping through the windows of the lab, and the bags beneath his eyes are puffy.

“Thank you,” he muses, taking the wet washcloth you run to get and placing it over his forehead with a soft sigh. “It was an…accidental discovery. Apologies for having to find me like this, but I appreciate the assistance.”

You keep your back turned to him as he starts to clean himself up. 

“Please, do not mention this to Jayce.” His sigh shakes, then his pained groan as he starts to sit up. You pass him a spare cane from his desk nearby. 

You nod. Your cheeks are on fire even before you dare to look at him. His are a permanent pink as he flattens down his clothing, dabbing at dried cum on his pants before frowning down at the mess he’s made through the…entire night. His weight is entirely on his cane and a nearby desk as he sighs. He does another pass through his hair with his hand.

“I suppose if I cannot fix the machine, perhaps another section of Piltover might find a use for it,” he murmurs. His next look is a tired, longing one. “Would you be kind enough to fetch me a bucket and a mop, please?”

You eye the dirty machine one last time before you slip from the lab to fetch all the necessary sanitization equipment. You grab an entire cart full just to be safe. Eight hours in the room, stuck on the machine…. Viktor made a mess.

Enough to leave the machine dripping when you bring the cart by. 

Enough to spend hours cleaning, postponing important work. 

And yet, when you come by the next day, the machine's exactly where it was when you last saw it. Untouched. Still put together. Still...in commission. 

And neither you nor Viktor says a damn thing about it.