undercity sunsets

It was you, the light of his life, fire of his loins, texting from what he assumes is a very cozy position on his bed, right where he left you this morning. He pictures you, wrapped up in the sheets, still wearing one of his t-shirts. You like the smell of them, you said. It reminds you of him while he’s away. 

His little sap. 

Boring, he responds, tapping away at the glass keyboard. What are you up to?

He sets his phone against his thigh, giving you time to respond. And you do. Quickly. Too quickly. Almost as quickly as he picks up the phone. Beside your name, the message reads ‘image: one’, and Leon looks to his left and right to make sure no one is watching him open the photo. 

It’s you, in bed like he had imagined, but you’re wearing a whole lot more than your birthday suit, and though he can salivate on command at the thought of your naked form, this is just as exciting. 

His eyes study the way your back is arched, your ass up in the air. You’re on your stomach, arms stretched out in front of you, giving him the perfect view of your heart-shaped cheeks. Black lingerie, too much to take in all at once, dons every curve of your body. Fishnet stockings clad your thighs. A garter belt digs into the flesh of your hips. A bra and panty set he can barely make out the details of from the photo. 

It doesn’t matter. It all goes straight to his dick anyway. 

I’m ripping all of that off as soon as I get home, he types. Sends. 

Hurry up, then. I’m waiting. Another photo, this one more obscene than the one before. He’s not even sure how you were able to snap such a masterpiece from that angle. Again, doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he can see right down your cleavage, the line of your abdomen, to the space between your open legs, where your hand occupies the mound 

A video from the same angle. Leon quickly turns the volume down and presses play. He can imagine the sounds just fine in his head as he watches you finger yourself. Five seconds. That’s all you gave him. 

Fuck, he swallows the curse, glancing around once more to double-check that no one is paying attention to the erection straining the crotch of his pants. Fuck. 

He needs more. 

I’ll be home for lunch.

You better have a snack waiting for him. 

“Naughty girl,” is all he says when he storms into the bedroom. You’re reclining on your back, the perfect position to take in the sight of Leon in a suit–a sight you rarely get to see. He’s always donning cargo pants or something elastic that shows off the swell of his muscles, and you’re not complaining. Gosh, do those compression shirts make your pussy throb. But on special occasions, like the meeting he had this morning, he likes to dress up, and apparently it has been a while, because the suit he’s wearing looks a little tight.

The fabric of his dress shirt is pulled tight across his chest, the buttons puckering beneath the tension. Even the shoulders are far too snug, and the seams stitched up and down the wool arms of the blazer are one flex away from ripping. Either the fabric shrunk in the back of the closet, or Leon has been hitting the gym twice as hard lately. 

It looks uncomfortable. He should take it off. 

But not yet. 

“Naughty? How have I been naughty?” You press a hand to your chest, feigning disbelief as you suck in a dramatic breath. 

“Teasing me while I was at work.”

“Those were gifts,” you say in a tone far too sultry to be taken seriously. “I thought I was being gracious.” 

He cocks his head, arching a brow. “You were being mean.” Leon crawls onto the bed, climbing over you until his lips are inches away from your own. “I was in a meeting.” 

It takes all the strength in your body not to bust out into a twinkling giggle. “I know.” 

“Anyone could have seen.” 

“Did they?” 

Another sly tilt of his head. “No, but they could have.” 

“But they didn’t.” 

“You’re asking to be punished.” 

You let out the teensiest giggle against his mouth as he leans down to press a kiss onto it. “You just now realized that?” 

He growls, the vibration tickling your lips. “That’s it.” With a swift grab, he flips you over onto your stomach, one forearm at the small of your back, pressing you down while the other yanks your panties down the flesh of your thighs. As he does so, you hear fabric ripping, and you internally mourn your favorite pair of panties. “You asked for it. Remember that when you’re screaming, telling me it’s too much.”

“Yessir.” 

You’re sure you’ll regret it, just like Leon said, but the temptation is too much to ignore. He’s far too fun to bait.

His hand takes a moment to appreciate the curve of your ass, giving each cheek a squeeze before he moves down between your thighs and begins playing with your pussy. Teasing and taunting, he draws slow, languid strokes up and down your folds, already slick with want. 

“Leon,” you murmur, already aching for more. “Need you inside.” Your walls clench around nothing as they eagerly await his arrival. 

He chuckles darkly, already situating the tips of his fingers at your entrance. “I know, baby. I know.” Although he tries so hard to act tough and withholding, Leon can’t help but give into your every desire. Such a saint. 

“How’s that, baby?” He asks, and though his voice is rough, his words are oh-so sweet, made sweeter by the sensation of his fingers–all three of them–stretching you out. 

“So good,” you cry into the pillow as he continues to pump into you from behind. His hand–the one that isn’t working your insides–is flush against your lower back, pressing your stomach into the mattress, amplifying your pleasure. 

“More, more. Please.” 

He’s happy to oblige, hardening each thrust of his fingers until he has to remind himself to hold back his own strength lest he accidentally harm you. 

“I’m so close, please don’t stop.” 

Some punishment, he thinks to himself, letting you come all over his hands. And then a mean idea pops into his head. 

Right as he feels the tension in your abdomen, you clenching his fingers until he’s barely able to pull them out, Leon does just that. The immediate emptiness has the tears welling in your eyes stall half-way down your cheeks, and a moan caught in your throat.

“Wha–” You try to turn around, to look into his eyes and beg for mercy, for a continuance to your pleasure, but he holds you down. 

The next thing you hear is the sound of metal teeth being pulled apart as Leon unzips his pants, shoving the slacks to his thighs, too impatient to pull them all the way off before he pumps himself twice in his hand before gliding himself into your weeping hole. 

Already wet and sopping, you make it far too easy for him to begin thrusting in and out of you, and his pleasure builds as he relishes the whimpers and whines leaving your parted lips. The lingerie on your body, all strappy and black. You vixen. The way your arousal coats him in a slippery sheen. How your hands grapple at the sheets, anything to tether you to the earth as your ecstasy threatens to sweep you into the sky. It’s all too much, and all too quickly, his own orgasm approaches, not long after you climax and he lets you.

“Fuck, I’m close.” His last words before he collapses onto your back, the cotton of his dress shirt kissing your dewy skin. It’s not long before he unglues himself from you, and begins to clean himself up so he can redress. 

“I swore I heard these rip,” you say, turning around to inspect the in-tact panties still at your thighs.

“I think it was my shirt.” Leon lifts his arm, and sure enough, there’s a small tear in the seam, just under his shoulder. An ivory button dangles from a loose thread, leaving a gaping hole down the front of the shirt. “Might need to change shirts.”

“Might need a bigger size, big boy.”

Read the rest on AO3

A/N: My husband's medical stuff got changed to mom because I couldn't have Silco going through shit because he needs to comfort me! I mean reader! But the other stuff with my bro is also true so ya gurl is going through itttttttt

Started drafting chapter 3 of this. Going to be basing it off the fourth of july shenanigans my friends and I got up to with some fireworks.

Your sleep is a dreamless one, like an endless drifting. Time passes slowly, every hour taking its sweet time instead of rushing past like any other night. You only wake up when the sound of heavy footsteps rings out nearby.

Without thinking, you know it’s the staircase, just by the subtle creak. Then the office door opens and the heavy footsteps continue for a few seconds, followed by muffled voices.

“Here’s their clothes. How are they?” It’s Sevika.

“Alive,” Silco responds. “Shaken and bruised, but alive.”

A few seconds of silence pass and you’re entirely awake now, propped up on your elbows and listening closely, the darkness of the room around you growing brighter as your eyes adjust.

“Any idea what happened?”

“Attacked at their apartment.”

You wince at the reminder.

“You think it’s related to why they had to crash here in the first place?”

“It is.” Even past the door you can hear the rumble in Silco’s voice, the agitation that’s seeping into his words.

He continues. “I will get detailed descriptions for you at a later date but all I know is there were two men.”

“I’ll keep an ear open then.” Sevika’s heavy footsteps begin once again and the door opens, closes, and she recedes down the stairs.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, listening closely as Silco rolls his chair back and his footsteps come closer. The door opens softly under his hand, and he peeks inside.

“What time is it?” you ask, and Silco’s body follows his head through the doorway.

“Almost noon.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep for that long.” You’re a little embarrassed now, not sure when you even went to sleep yesterday. Just adding onto the pile of stress, you had hoped to sleep off whatever Silco Fever you had last night, from fantasizing about him to kissing him. But your temperature is still rather high in that department.

“No apologies needed,” Silco says, waving you off as he wanders over, “you needed the rest.” He drops some clothes on the bed next to you before veering off to the closet.

You pick them up, and quickly recognize them as spare threads from your locker downstairs.

“Thanks, I forgot about these,” you say, looking up at Silco who’s grabbing his coat from the closet.

He’s going somewhere, you think to yourself, and ignore the pang in your chest. He feels distant, and this is making it worse.

“Are you going out?” you ask, almost scared of the answer you might get.

Yes, I’m leaving you because you’ve crossed a line. Be gone by the time I’m back.

“We’re going to get food. I’d think you’re rather hungry now,” Silco says, shrugging on his coat.

Oh finally!

You’re so hungry by now you can’t be bothered to worry about your feelings and complications with Silco. Without thinking, you jump up and grab your clothes, running to the bathroom to change. It feels good to be in your own stuff, no offense to Silco. He has provided you with a lot so far, but his old clothes are sort of scratchy, and big on you.

You emerge from the bathroom to find Silco has already left, so you quickly rush out to meet him. He’s not in the office, the hall, or the bar; he’s somehow made it all the way outside.

“How did you get down here so fast?” you say, a little breathless from your hurry.

“How did you take so long to get dressed?” he quips back. If it weren’t for the hint of a smile on his lips you would be more offended by his comment, but you're instead pleasantly reminded of your banter the night you hit him with a pillow. You brush it off with a shake of your head and follow when Silco starts off down the street.

“Where to?” You’re inwardly hoping it’s Jericho’s that you’re headed to.

“Anywhere you’d like,” Silco answers passively.

“Jericho’s,” you say quickly, and Silco smiles.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Silco digging into the greasy, messy delicacies of Jericho’s Seafood and Snacks is a funny image, but you’re not surprised. Silco’s rather old, so he’s probably eaten at every place in the undercity by now.

Usually traveling with Silco includes backroads and hidden alleyways, but you must have caught him in a good mood because you’re treated with a stroll through the main streets of the Lanes. The walk feels longer than it really is, with your growling stomach and all, but it is very amusing. The amount of room allotted to you and Silco by other passersby is comical, the sight of so many cowering from him sort of empowering.

I could get used to this, you think to yourself.

Upon making it to Jericho’s, you promptly order and Silco pays, not getting anything for himself but instead striking up conversation with the large, Fish-looking chef known as Jericho. When your food is ready, Silco sits down next to you and watches, amused, as you begin to scarf down your meal.

The food takes away from the awkwardness eating away at you, but it still weighs heavy. The worst part is you thought kissing Silco, or feeling the need to, was just some part of your emotional and exhausted delirium. It wasn’t. The only thing you regret is what he said after–how uncomfortable he looked.

“About last night,” you start, watching the grease dripping from your sandwich as you find it incredibly hard to look Silco in the eye. You take a breath to say something else, another apology, some half-assed excuse, but he stops you.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it.” When you look up there’s a gentle smile on his face, and all of the breath leaves your lungs at once.

Thank Janna.

You continue to eat your sandwich, savoring every bite. The pauses you have to take to swallow and breathe are as quick as you can make them, trying to fill the bottomless pit that has become your stomach.

“Can I ask you a question?” Silco says, and you look up at him. “About what happened at your apartment.” 

You nod, not sure you can rely on your voice to keep steady if you speak.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice is soft, gentle. “I would have handled it quietly–I will handle it quietly–and it bothers me that those men are still out somewhere.”

He’s irritated, angry, but not at you. His anger is justified and it makes you feel justified. It’s validating. But, he is asking a good question. You never told him what was happening until it was too late. Despite his power, his influence, the means and will to hunt down a man. You’ve seen all of these things, witnessed them first-hand, but still you didn’t say anything. Why?

“I was just hoping it would blow over,” you answer meekly.

“Don’t take that risk again,” Silco says, looking at you now with those earnest red and green eyes. “I will be here to help and assist in any way I can. I will not judge, ridicule, or reject you. I would prefer, for your sake, that you tell me if something even feels wrong.”

You nod, a little taken aback by the genuine look in Silco’s eyes, the one you thought you would only see last night, especially after your actions. But he bears his trust and his heart to you again.

Warmth blossoms in your chest as those words sink in, the reality that you can really trust Silco and that he trusts you in return bringing a fluttering sensation to your chest.

“Thank you,” you say, before picking up your sandwich again. That’s all you can manage to say without choking up with tears.

You continue eating in silence until Silco pipes up again.

“There’s an assembly with the barons I must attend today,” he sighs. “You are welcome to join me. I would rather not leave you by yourself, but it is ultimately your choice.”

You swallow and reply. “I’ll stick with you.”

“Very well then,” he says with a nod. “We’ll go once you’re done. We’ll be early.”

You nod back and, after polishing off your sandwich, head off with Silco. You quickly realize food was an excellent idea, as you feel more energized and stable–mentally and physically–now that you’re working on a full stomach.

In all the years you’ve worked for Silco, you have gone to one other chembaron assembly, and it was not a good experience. Boring, long, very redundant, and full of horrible people. Killers, old farts, and wannabe tyrants. Worst of them all was Finn, with a loud mouth in place of his brain. You had the displeasure of holding a small conversation with him, which turned into him getting very much in your face and hitting on you. Nothing more than an annoyance really, but you do hope he won’t try that again. Or, even better, you hope he won’t be at this meeting at all.

You take the elevator up with Silco and it’s all vaguely familiar, with a few things changed since you were last there a few weeks ago. Upon getting to the assembly hall, you find that you and Silco are not the only ones early, even though you are a good twenty minutes ahead of most of the other attendees. Much to your dismay, you’re immediately greeted by Finn, who throws a sharp comment that you ignore entirely. Silco ignores him as well and the two of you stand off to the side.

“How he’s managed to not be killed yet is beyond me,” Silco huffs, obviously talking about Finn. “I’ve come close to doing the favor myself.”

You smile at his quip, and are about to say something yourself when you look over at Finn in his yellow jacket. He’s in the opposite corner of you, and your words die before they reach your tongue as you see the two men he’s standing next to.

Despite your best attempts to keep reading, over and over again, your mind shortcircuits, your eyes focused on that one word.

Acquired.

All your years of loyalty. Down the drain. And with absolutely no warning.

Would this new company that’s taking over be as good as your current employer? Would you even get to keep your job? Or would it be eliminated because of “redundancies?” Would the benefits and salary carry over? PTO? Profit sharing? Did they acquire your team because they wanted the talent? Or did they simply want your clients and the team was a disposable byproduct of that purchase?

Your throat bobs and you press your palms to the edge of your desk, pushing yourself back and away from the computer screen. Your mouth hangs uselessly open as your furrows brow. Without thinking, your legs move on their own accord: first to stand, then to walk—more like shamble—through the threshold of your home office and into the kitchen where your husband is preparing his coffee.

“Morning, darling,” Silco greets, his back to you. “Would you like to try a sip of this new blend—” He turns over his shoulder and freezes, mismatched eyes quick to catch the expression on your face. He gingerly sets his mug down before striding to you, hands reaching for your shoulders. “What is it?”

“I… we…” You struggle to get the words out. Your eyes lift and their expression is blank, your tone devoid of all feeling. “Our team got acquired. There’s a chance I may get laid off.”

Silco immediately pulls you into a hug. You allow him to envelope you in his arms but yours stay still at your side, numbness spreading from your chest and moving its way to all your extremities. Your whole body feels like lead, like you may simply fall to the floor under the weight of this news.

“What did they say exactly?” Silco asks, his voice soft while one hand rubs your back between your shoulder blades. The feeling is nice but does little to soothe you.

“September,” you say blankly. “The purchase will go through in September.”

“And then?”

“Then we may have some sort of period—18 months—where our job is safe. But then after that…”

Your voice trails off, unable to finish the thought.

You essentially have 21 months of runway. Then, it’s all in the new company’s hands. 

Would they keep you? 

Could you impress them enough to stay employed? 

Or would they simply toss you out like old office furniture?

You’ve been through acquisitions before, but never as the company being acquired. And every time it’s happened, you’ve witnessed the same thing: the employees from the old practice do not last long. They either can’t keep up or they’re deemed too expensive to justify employing for much longer.

“Maybe take the day off,” Silco offers, holding you at arm’s length as his two toned eyes search your face for any sign of expression. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“I can’t. We’re supposed to continue business as usual.” You let out a scoff. It’s the most feeling you’ve expressed since you stepped into the kitchen. “Besides, how would that look for me? They wouldn’t view that favorably.”

Your husband hums in understanding before embracing you again.

“We’ll get through this,” he reassures you. “If you need to start looking for jobs elsewhere, I can ask around. I can review your resume for you and we can find you something even better than where you are now.”

His words are encouraging, but they’re nothing but wooden arrows against a fortress wall of thick enforced stone, hitting your numb exterior pathetically before falling back down to the ground.

The pair of you stand like this for a moment: him, hugging you around your waist; you, eyes staring blankly forward with your cheek pressed to his chest, arms still dangling at your sides.

After a few minutes, you finally speak again.

“This sucks.”

Silco takes in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out. You feel the way his chest rises and falls. You can hear his steady heartbeat against your ear.

“It does,” he simply agrees.

You let out a sigh and let your eyes close. Finally, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close. He responds with a gentle squeeze before rubbing more circles into your back.

What the hell do you do now?

A/N: I'm tired of this grandpa

On 15th May it was brought to my attention that my Silco fanfic Drink With Me had been plagiarised, and was being monetised by an erotic audio company called Best Kept Secret.

The full audio story was locked behind a subscription paywall on Patreon, but I was able to access the free SFW sample via their YouTube channel. I listened to a few random snippets at various different points in the audio — it couldn't have been more than 30 seconds worth in total — and this, along with the story description, was more than enough to convince me beyond a shadow of a doubt that Drink With Me had been plagiarised in its entirety. Even the story title, In The Dark With Me, was a poorly veiled appropriation.

It was late, I was tired, I had just finished watching Project Hail Mary on discord with some buddies and was feeling some type of way about Rocky, and the realisation that my beloved fic had been stolen sent my brain into a weird sort of frozen state between fight or flight. I left a number of comments on the YouTube video calling them out, and went to bed feeling sick to my stomach. In the morning, I checked again, but none of my comments had been responded to. After attempting and failing to find a method of communication via Patreon, I was able to locate the company's website and submitted a message via their contact page form, providing them with my email address and urging them to contact me as a matter of urgency.

Maybe I could have given them a little longer to respond, but by this point I was completely gutted and felt utterly helpless. My words had been stolen, and now my words were being ignored, and it made me feel voiceless. So, by lunchtime, I sent a message to a few Silco friends to ask for their help, hoping that if a few other accounts were to leave comments under the YouTube video it might help to get BKS's attention and put some pressure on them to respond...

Boy howdy did y'all cause a ruckus. Their YouTube video was flooded with angry comments calling them out, and within 12 hours it had been privated. Big shout out to @bethegusto and @silcozaunite for making awareness posts on TikTok, Twitter and Tumblr – thank you for leading the charge whilst I was incapacitated by my bum-ass nervous system <3

That evening, an employee of BKS (Ellie) reached out to me directly via Tumblr dm to initiate conversation. She informed me that this audio script had been licensed to them by an external author claiming it as their own original work. So, not only did this author steal my words, they got paid for them. We then moved the conversation over to email, and Ellie asked me to send her the link to Drink With Me so that she could check the source material against their audio. I have to say, I felt very vindicated that it only took her a few minutes to confirm blatant plagiarism, and that the matter would be immediately escalated to their CEO.

I went to sleep that night feeling cautiously optimistic, but also incredibly moved and loved by the Silco fandom.

The next morning I woke to an email from Rob, the founder and CEO of Best Kept Secret. He offered his sympathies and apologised for what had happened, and corroborated what Ellie had said previously; that this audio script had been submitted to them by an external writer claiming it as their own original work, and that they had paid that author a license fee to use it. He confirmed that they will be blacklisting this author from any future projects, and that their new Head of Writing is looking into implementing plagiarism protections going forward.

He then offered me two options for resolution:

1.) They change the writing credit to my name, and pay me a license fee for the continued use of the audio across their platforms

2.) They remove the audio from their platforms entirely

I chose the latter, and responded with the below on 17th May:

[Quick interjection here to say that this email is exempt from the whole 'hey don't fucking steal my words' thing — if anyone ever needs to use it or any part of it as a template or verbatim to battle their own case of plagiarism then please do so]

During the time in which I was waiting for a reply from Rob, I decided to reach out directly to the author who had plagiarised my work. I don't know why exactly, or what I was hoping to achieve, I just felt that it was right they should face the person they hurt.

I'm not going to share any screenshots from that interaction, because at least one of us knows it's wrong to share another person's words without their permission, but it was a brief conversation, and not particularly dramatic. They had the grace to be ashamed of their actions, and apologised for the hurt they caused. They also confirmed that they will be paying BKS back the money they took as a license fee.

On 19th May Rob replied to my email to confirm that they have deleted the audio from their Patreon and website, and that their social media team have removed any content related to it from Instagram, YouTube and TikTok. And that if any instances of it appear again on any of their platforms, in any capacity, to let them know so that they can remove it as fast as possible. Additionally, they ran the author's other BKS works through a plagiarism checker and manually looked through those results, and were able to confirm that the rest of their scripts were at least their own original works.

They also posted the following public announcement on their Patreon:

[[Direct link to the Patreon post here]]

Finally, Rob thanked me for raising those other points regarding genAI usage and a donation to AO3, and said they will feed these back to their marketing and tech teams which in my opinion is corporate slang for "lmfao we definitely aren't going to do that"

From the sounds of it, this isn't the first time this company has had an issue with stolen works, and despite their assurances that plagiarism protections are being put in place, I would urge writers and creatives to keep an eye out regardless. If anyone ever finds themselves needing to reach out to BKS to contest their own cases of plagiarism then please don't hesitate to DM me and I will happily supply the relevant email details.