#silco drabble

[astudyincontrasts]

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.

“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.

#happy birthday six! #Alexa play Beyoncé's Partition #silco #silco x reader #silco arcane x reader #arcane silco x reader #silco fic #arcane fic #silco drabble #mdni

[theiauwu]

I don't normally do this, so pardon if unclear.

Can I get some Silco headcanon stuff and/or drabble about him taking in some transmasc nonbinary gremlin? Found family sorta stuff?

Thank!

Pairing: Dad! Silco x Transmasc! Nonbinary! Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 281, 233

Genre: fluff, headcanon, drabble

Sure can! I apologize if I get anything wrong or this isn’t really what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy what I wrote!

Content Warning: maybe some light angst?

Headcannon:

Probably found you hanging around in the filthy streets of the Lanes, distrustful and filled with hatred towards the cruel world. Seeing you in that state reminded him a lot of himself and he didn’t know why but he impulsively decided to take you in.

He wasn’t sure what he expected from you, probably thought of you as another potential loyal goon that could be trained under Sevika. Perhaps a playmate of some sorts for Jinx.

But what he didn’t expect was for you to worm your little way into his heart and with more time spent with your mischievous little self.

Seeing you pull off somewhat harmless pranks with Jinx on every poor soul you could lay your eyes on and the way you two made little trinkets that decorated his office.

It just warmed the little ice cube inside his chest and eventually he just accepted the fact that you weren’t just another mindless pawn to command for his goal, you were his child.

When you were comfortable enough and with a lot of pushing from Jinx *who may or may not have intentionally slipped up*, you nervously disclosed to Silco about your gender identity and made it clear to him how you would prefer to be addressed.

He was quiet for a while, taking in the new information while you fidgeted in front of him, unsure and terrified of his reaction.

Honestly, the man wasn’t sure what to make of the information, he would have to request for more information on it later on but he knew that it didn’t really matter to him.

You were his gremlin either ways and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were looking down on the ground, afraid to look at him. Terrified to see that look that haunted you on your father figure’s face. The voices in your head telling you that if you did, you’d probably be met with disgust and rejection.

Because of that you failed to see the soft expression that is currently sitting on his face.

Silco wasn’t a naïve man, he’s seen people of all kind with his background and history. Though he had been too focused on his mission to educate himself on the matter.

He made a mental note then to secure the proper documents later on to do so but there are other pressing matters at the moment.

Which was you.

He was clearly tell how anxious you were of his reaction to the news and he needed to make sure you knew exactly how he felt.

With a soft sigh, he reaches out and pulls you into a soft but firm embrace.

“Child, you would be a fool to believe that I would treat you any differently because of something like this. And I raised no fool.”

You begin to sniffle as tears welled up in your eyes, blurring you vision. Reaching up you clenched tightly onto his coat and clung onto him.

Your heart swelling up with love and relief at the acceptance along with his reassuring words.

“Don’t cry, you’re perfect.”

Author's Note:

I'm sorry I had to, the line was perfect. Please forgive me... QwQ

#arcane #silco x reader #silco headcanon #silco fanfic #arcane netflix #silco x oc #arcane league of legends #silco x you #arcane silco #silco drabble #dad silco #silco x platonic reader #transmasc #nonbinary reader #silco league of legends #lol silco #silco arcane #silco

[silcoitus]

Thank you for 100 followers!

I'm so happy to reach this milestone after just a little over a month of starting this Tumblr! I 100% created this account to indulge in the Silco brainrot and then was inspired to start sharing my own Silco fics.

As someone in their 30's who has never shared their writing online, I am absolutely overwhelmed by the positive feedback I've received, from the comments to the likes to the reblogs to the follows (and also the follows from authors I love to read!). I've never really given myself much credit when it comes to my writing, so having so many lovely people tell me lovely things feels so validating. (My fave comments are all caps comments 🤣)

In honor of this milestone, please accept this humble little drabble I came up with on the fly.

Caught in the rain

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1.7k

Fluff, crime lord reader, established relationship, a little saucy,

Notes: wrote this in the hotel room this morning before heading back to a con. I didn't proofread so any typos or grammatical errors will be fixed later!

Read on AO3

#silcoitus #silco x you #silco #silco x reader #silco drabble #arcane drabble

[ace-of-zaun]

Silco requests now open!

send me a line of dialogue and i’ll try to write a silco x reader drabble with it 

for example:

“I have loved you since the day I met you.”

“You did all of this? For me?”

“What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.”

or just general ideas if you can’t think of a line!

-elsie x

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #silco one shot #silco drabble #requests

[flower-of-zaun]

“Maybe I should let you run Xylia. Think how fun that would be to play cat and mouse darling” Silco spoke tightening his hand around my throat as a warning that I heed his words. “Even better if I got my name tattooed onto your beautiful skin, that way any person in Zaun that finds you, knows that you are my property. Most people know better then to touch or play with my toys I don’t take kindly to that and it is a interesting thought on how pretty you’d look with that ink”

That was the first time Silco used that threat, but it was never the last. He had a sick fascination with marking me, if someone dared to lay their eyes on me, they would always know I was his and look away. Only when I tried to escape, did the threat come true. It wasn’t a little tattoo, something couples do when madly in loved, and easy to cover up if things ended. It was a horrible brand, my face forever marred with a thick scar. A scar to remind of my disobedience, and to remind others I would ALWAYS be his.

Just some spoilers for my story Under His Eye. A Silco x StockholmReader fic that I started a while back and will be dropping some SERIOUS updates soon.

#Silco #arcane oc #xylia arcane #silco drabble #silco fanfic #zaunite #silco x oc

[dreamer-oriented-express-1]

How Silco shows his affection and ownership of you…(Headcanons???)

(All of this takes place in his so called headquarters “The Last Drop”! That bar…) (Silco X Fem!reader) (FLUFFY!)

He would of course be near you, having his arm around you, letting all his goons and the customers in there know that you’re his, and not to be messed with…

He would sneak kisses on your neck and collarbone…some long, some short, making soft sounds as he does…which makes your butterflies swarm!

He’ll buy you drinks…scotch or something…possibly share them?

If one of his goons or a random person gives you an “interested” look, Silco will retaliate and will make a mark on your neck right then and there for them and everyone to see…but that’ll probably shut them up!

He’ll play your favorite tune on the jukebox!

He’ll either have his hand on yours or your thigh, rubbing small slight circles on them as to comfort you!

Of course he’s smoking up a storm with his cigars…trying to show off to you of how much of a man he is…puffing out smoke rings and looking ever so relaxed beside you…

Sitting in his lap, you never felt so safe…he too feels safe, yet dominant, like he definitely owns you!

After when everything is said and done, him and his bulky henchmen lead you upstairs to where his office is…down from his office is a guest bedroom!

He tells you to get some rest, kissing you one last time, getting in a few nibbles for you to feel the sensation over and over again!

Silco is a man of patience and time…willing to draw this relationship out with you for as long as he can!

Hopefully you enjoyed! I usually don’t post on the weekends so this is a treat! I really tried with these headcanons! But leave a like if you did! May make a part 2 to this???🥰❤️

#posting #headcanons #arcane silco #silco #i tried my best #drabble #if you squint #a treat #hope you enjoy #lol

[my--moon]

ARCANE WOMEN WITH BIMBO S/O

PAIRING: Arcane Women X Bimbo!Reader (Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn) WARNING: Sexual references. Sexualisation of reader. eating out. straps mentioned. finger fucking. Smut.

JINX:

B-I-M-B-O! You're just Jinx's stupid hoe! >3•

she loves you. she loves fucking you against her bedroom walls as well.

eating your pretty cunt out as she lifted up your short skirt !! such a slutty bitch <33

tv girl duo??? blue and pink !!

let's be honest, she 100% calls you a very colourful range of nicknames (especially in bed, mainly whore n slut )

just imagine her laying you out on her bed, slipping off that awfully short top of yours off, and fondling with your tits as you grind your wet cunt against her. so cute right?

VI:

the femme to her butch!!

makes you ride her strap 100% — also records your pretty moans to make you listen to after

once your done on her hugee cock (strap) she likes to shove her thick fingers in your pussy, and vigorously twirling them in your warm walls

what ? you're tired? you can keep going another round it's okay, she'll treat you to a new dress after <3

lets you do some makeup on her

super sweet and will punch anyone that comment on your style !!

CAITLYN:

shes grown up with modest and classy people, but she does like your ditzy personality, she may find it annoying sometimes but she does love it

you're so adorable!! now eat her out.

let's be honest, you're more proactive n you're probably dom in this situation

she's so cute whining as you thrust against her hot cunt

people's assume she's topping cuz of her personality and your ditzy demeanor but it's the other way around!

none the less, she absolutely spoils you with her family's wealth and power

#arcane #sevika #vander #silco #jinx #ekko #arcane textposts #arcane local cuisine #arcane howl #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #arcane X bimbo! reader #bimbo!reader #wlw post #sapphic yearning #lesbian #lesbianism #sapphic #wlw yearning #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft #wlw #smut post #x reader #fem reader #drabble #female reader #smut

[a-gal-with-taste]

Busy (NSFW)

Summary: Lording over an entire underground nation can be time-consuming - you know this.

Still, you hope that Silco has enough free-time on his plate, to enjoy a little surprise you have in store.

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI. Suggested boss/employee relationship, established-relationship, nudity, wearing-nothing-under-coat, misunderstandings, groping/fondling, light fingering, Sinday is back!

Climbing up the stairs was a risk. Calculated, but you still tugged the thick fur coat tighter around you, forcing it to hug your body... and you took the last few steps double-at-a-time, just in case.

Thankfully, there were no hoots, or low whistles from any potential up-lookers on busy dancefloor below, and you were grateful.

Because there was only one reaction you wanted, and nerves faded as the grin spread across your face, when you thought of the expression he would have when he realized you came in a coat and heels...

And only, a coat and heels.

Knocking wasn't really required anymore, not for you. Though, you still tilted your ear close to the door to listen for any undesired second-party. Sevika would be a mortifying possibility, since she could see through any attempt at a poker-face, and you'd turn right back around if you heard Jinx spending time with her father.

Cold or not, you'd march straight back home if either were the case.

Only the sounds of pen scratching on paper in a curt, sharp pace was heard. And after letting out a small, sharp breath to calm any remaining nerves at what could be one of your more embarrassing ideas, you opened the door, walked in, and-

"I'm busy."

The door closed behind you, and you blinked at the sound, and at Silco. Who didn't even look up... who wasn't even wearing makeup.

You'd seen Silco without it before, but the sight still halted you more than his sharp two-word greeting did. The scars, dark and striking in the pale evening-lighting gave his face a more severe and yet vulnerable look - this wasn't a sight permitted for many, and it stunned you that he allowed you to see this.

But then his red and teal gaze snapped up to glare, and fix you with a look you imagined everyone had been victim to. "I'm busy," He said, low and stressing the word in a way that made you shiver - even though it was warmer than it was outside.

"I heard you," You confirmed, reaching back to silently flicked the lock to avoid visitors, before your heels clicked on the wooden floor as you stepped forward towards him. A small smile crossed your freshly-painted lips, and your fingers came up to brush the clasps of your coat as you stepped closer, "However... I thought that, perhaps, you wouldn't mind a break-"

"If I want something, it would be here when I require it," Silco says, voice frosty enough that you're chilled into standing in place, frozen. "I don't recall requesting your presence, nor do I require it... you may leave."

Silco always had a way with words - and you knew full-well that that 'may' was actually a 'will.'

"What happened?" You said, frowning as you stepped forward, not so much prowling seductively as it was to see what was the matter with the man. "Is there anything I can do-?"

"Yes, you can find the door," Silco snapped hotly, pen held tight between white-knuckled fingers. Your gaze darts from it, back to his gaze... one heartbeat. Then a second, third passes, before that burning iron in his gaze softened, more like hot-stones, but an improvement nonetheless.

"Is... is it the trades? Poor profits?"

"Worse - a buisness-meeting."

The pen makes an audible click when Silco sets it down, before he lets out a long-sigh as he reaches up, cradling his forehead with his fingers as a migraine announced it's arrival inside his head. "Short-notice, as well... if it wasn't something that could directly provide consequence to your other guesses, I'd be insulted it was even brought to my attention. Alas, it does require it."

"Oh," You breathed, trying not to feel disappointed... it was no secret the Eye not only watched all, but usually had hand in-all that occurred in Zaun. A full-schedule wasn't, shouldn't be much of a surprise...

Still, as you tugged the coat tight enough around you that it squeezed at the round of your bare hips, you really, really weren't looking forward to going back in the chilly night-air. "So... you really want me to go?"

The question, meant to be casual but coming out wary, caused the glowing-ember of an obsidian eye to flick between the gaps of fingers, looking at you. Again, there was a softening when he gazed as you - stone to a weaker-copper, perhaps. "Not my preference... not at all, but a necessity," Silco did sound apologetic, and firm in his more gentle dismissal, but you still felt a bit sluggish as you stepped back from the desk, dejected.

And then stepped to the side, walking around the desk towards him. There's a fiery-spark of irritation in both eyes at the clear disobedience, the green and the red, but only the green widens when your hand reached out, pressing and kneading at his shoulder gently.

Silco didn't so much soften as well as he melted at your touch, and it was only thanks to practice that you didn't immediately smile or chuckle at the sight of Silco, Eye and unofficial King of the Undercity, practically reduced to a puddle by a massaging of one shoulder - not even both.

"I hope it goes by quick, smoothly..."

"Doubtful... but your words and well-wishes are appreciated." So was your touch, you noted, as his remaining eye faltered shut and there was the faintest hum from his chest. It was a pity to have to pull away, but, slowly retracting and dragging your fingers, you made to move back... but out of habit or some touch-starved instinct, Silco's fingers snapped up to curl around your wrist.

More specifically, curling around the sleeve covering your wrist.

And that, combined with the step you had taken back and away from him, triggered a two-step chain-reaction that led to your completely bare shoulder bare to see. Which, honestly, wouldn't be so scandalous... except your face immediately heated up to the point of burning, and you scrambled to step back and fix your sleeve.

Obviously, this caught the Eye's attention.

"Is something the matter?" Silco say in an innocent tone that immediately put you on edge. "You look... ruffled." His index finger unfurled around your wrist, and shifted slightly in order to stroke the fur of your coat in emphasis, though his eyes never left yours.

"Just... it's chilly-" "I have a thicker coat you can borrow, then. Though, I imagined the one you wear now had it's uses."

Your breath, and whatever hope you had of replying, shudders in time with his fingers dragging in order to skim between the line of clothing and skin - his fingers scorched as much as your face burned, but his eyes were the worst of it. Impassive, carefully neutral, yet they were quickly melting you in place.

"Perhaps you should take this one off, dear," He mused quietly. You weren't surprise he had put two & two together, coming up with the fact that you weren't subtle, but it still sent an embarrassed flush to your already blushing-dark cheeks.

"I-i... I wouldn't want to bother, you seem busy-"

"I have time. Take it off."

Compliance, unfortunately, was a skill you possessed that Silco loved to use to the fullest extent. He didn't even have to use a commanding voice with the order - the man simply had to look at you, and say it so casually, that you didn't realize your hands were already pulling the fold of your coat apart until there was a silent, but sharp inhale from the kingpin watching.

He's, obviously, seen you nude before. Probably memorized everything there was to see, but the two-coloured gaze still dropped to rove over the skin you were exposing as you slowly peeled the coat from your form - stopping when it was just-barely off your shoulders.

Not because Silco ordered you to, but the subtle flexing of his throat when he swallowed dry at the sight, was enough to stop you still.

"... this is a surprise."

"If I known you were busy, I wouldn't have-"

"Where did you put the rest of your clothes?"

Someone probably could cook an omlette on your forehead, your face never blushed so hard as you whispered, "I... there wasn't any. I came here like this."

A thoughtful hum breaks the too-long pause, and he stands. Your hands fall limp at your sides at the first step he makes towards you, and it only takes another step before his own hands come up, long fingers replacing yours on the hem of your coat. "You seem quite mortified for someone who planned this well in-advance," He comments in a conversational tone, all the while you're struggling jot to tremble as his knuckles graze your skin, and the coat is ushered further, and further down from your body...

"Though," Warm breath tickles at your hairline - it's somehow hotter than your body has become. "I fail to see why you have any reason to be embarrassed... and I am seeing much."

The coat crumbles to the ground in a heap around your ankles, and palms are quick to replace it along your body.

Searing, burning palms that graze with biting nails - you're left gasping, but not long on air. His mouth comes up quick to replace oxygen, and even quicker to mute your squeal when his fingers find your ass as squeeze.

"You walked through the Lanes, with so much as a stitch beneath a flimsy coat. How filthy," He snarls into your mouth with a wolfish grin, one that would have your legs weak if... they suddenly weren't off the ground.

"Silco-" You gasped, legs wrapping around his waist as you were lifted, tucking your head against his shoulder with another surprise squeak as his nails digged-in your skin, before he propped you atop the desk.

"Your meeting-" "Can wait," Murmuring quietly against the shell of your ear, his faint chuckle seemed to echo in your head when you whimpered. His hands seemed eager to map out skin he already knew by-heart, palm coming up to cup your chest and knead, while long fingers took time to trace down every vertebre of your spine. "Paitence can be mastered, and perhaps this could be considered a first-lesson for my buisness partner. It can wait."

Silco, however, could not.

This is proven by how quickly, and smoothing, his hand comes to trace around your hip, and begin to dip between your thighs. This earns another shaking rasp, one that is soothed to a whimper with a kiss along your jawline, as his fingers dip and start to tease along your already wet slit-

There's a knock.

One that makes you jump, and start to slip from the desk, but both Silco's arm around your waist, and the finger dipping between to graze along your clit, forces you to remain against him as he growls, "What?"

"He's here," Sevika's voice drawls, clearly bored and a bit miffed at being intruppted from her card-game downstairs. Considering what you're doing now, you can sympathize. "Not looking happy about waiting either..."

"A pity." Silco's quiet words indeed make you sympathize with Sevika's plight of being taken from her source of enjoyment, as you imagine you're about to be in the same boat. You can't fault him from it, but as you go to creep away, you can't help but feel a spark of dejection-

A spark, that erupts into flame when he pushes his finger through your folds, curling into your pussy. Only to the first knuckle, but it's enough to make you understand that it's not a pity you have to leave - but that his buisness meeting is going to be very, very delayed.

Silco's unyielding and fiery gaze, fingers slowly beginning to pump in, out of your tight wetness, and his next words, were enough to make you whimper again as heat flashed through you:

"Tell him I'm busy."

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#silco x reader #arcane silco #arcane #silco #arcane fanfic #fanfic #mdni #18+ #silco smut #writing #fanfiction #oneshot #drabble

[astudyincontrasts]

I wish u would write a fic where reader is one of those ppl sitting at a chess board in a park waiting to play with someone walking by and they're about to pack up bc it's getting late but then silco stops them and plays a match

Silco x GN!Reader SFW

TW: mention of parental death

It was a hit or miss crowd in the paltry scrap of patchy scrub grass and struggling weedy diseased saplings that passed for the closest thing to trees in the tiny 'park' at the outskirts of the undercity. Truth be told it was less a park and more a lot where a decrepit building demolishment had never resulted in new architecture. Reclaimed by what few weeds counted as the elements, and then further reclaimed by the local residents into public space.

Makeshift small tables and benches cobbled together from recycled scraps, scattered planters overflowing with whatever seeds or pretty weeds the local greenthumbs deemed worthy of care, and multicolored tatters of laundry fluttering in crisscrossed lines between the buildings it was sandwiched within, the park was not an unpretty thing. Simply unrefined, a make-do as were most all things in the undercity.

Most days it hosted a rotating small crowd of local old-timers looking for a quiet, shady place to relax, or roving gaggles of children at play. Constantly a meeting spot for the ladies of either nearby building to stand and chat as they watched their younglings make mudpies or joyfully tear up fistfuls of tough grass.

And on any given day a couple of the old-timers, or more rarely someone young and starved for stimulation like yourself, sat for hours on end playing chess or checkers, sometimes even dominos or knucklebones if the right crowd was around that afternoon. But again, if you weren't one of the elderly grey men with a fellow regular partner to play with, the crowd was hit or miss for someone seeking a game.

Many of the elders wouldn't give a younger player the time of day. Too rash, to inexperienced, too hot headed or too likely to be a sore loser. So on and so on ran the list of their prejudicial reasons not to play with anyone who didn't look three hacking coughs away from death. When he lived down here, Viktor used to stop for a few games with you anytime he passed the park and found you unengaged. He was brilliant, if quiet and terribly serious. And since he'd left to attend the university in Piltover you hadn't seen him again.

Not that you blamed him. Why come back once you got free? No one wanted to risk getting soiled with the scent of the undercity once you'd been given the opportunity to finally wash it from your clothes.

Still, you missed him. He might have always won but you always learned a new trick or tactic to use against your next opponent.

Huck was another who'd play you anytime he swung by. Older, so the elderly regulars tolerated him more, but kind in a squirrely sort of way, kind enough so he'd always play a round with you if you weren't engaged. He never stopped talking though, a kind of stream of consciousness prattle that could have been more irritating if it weren't for how utterly harmless and eager the little man was behind his round spectacles. He was good, but not great at the game, but beggars couldn't be choosers and any opponent was better than none.

Many of the boards the old-timers played on were much like the furnishings of the park itself; cobbled together of remnants, or handmade, or cannibalized bits from a multitude of countless other mismatched sets and all played on fields hand-painted with slightly wonky lines. But not yours. Yours was perfect.

A family treasure, inherited from your father when his fishing trawler did not return from a haul. He'd been the one who taught you how to play. A looming, large and dock-scented figment of your childhood, he'd been a quiet man with an intimidating and stern presence. You were at a lost to recall any other moments of your early life when he paid you mind aside from the times he sat you down and taught you the game.

At the time it felt like perhaps on his rare visits home from the sea that he found your young presence to be little more than an irritation. A tiny human that had somehow found its way into his home and his life and ate the food on his table and ran underfoot. He was a constant threat used by your mother; wait until your father gets home, wait until your father finds out you broke the dish, wait until I tell your father how you disobeyed. Something in the way she said it made him feel like a boiling tower of wrath just itching for an excuse to unload on you and tan your skinny hide.

Now that you were older it was easier to understand that it was more likely the big man had no idea what to make of you, felt awkward and at a loss at how to bond with a small child he saw but rarely, and instead kept his quiet distance until he'd grabbed upon the idea of using the game to interact with you devoid of small talk and the other niceties he did not do well. He'd been a good teacher and you a quick learner, eager to please the man you feared, each of you learning each other over the pieces and moves and gambits.

And then when he didn't come back one day the lovely set with its polished brass and smooth ivory pieces belonged to you. Playing felt like a way to keep what little you had or knew of him alive. And in a life and town where the chance to use the intellect you'd been given was practically non-existent, it fed a brain hungry for challenge and craving intelligent distraction.

You’d sat there for two hours.  Knee bouncing impatiently, the lovely board laid out neatly before you, offer of the first move on the open seat across from you, just... waiting.  A few of the old men played at other tables.  A pair of housewives rocking babies on their hips leaned against the brick of the nearby building and gossiped.  You waited.  

And waited.

And waited, and nothing.  No takers.  The relative emptiness of the street not far from where you sat promised little in the way of passersby who might be enticed, and what few people there were out and about were too busy in their own lives to spare some time for a game not too many down here understood anyhow.

Heaving a sigh of resignation for another fruitless afternoon you turned to begin packing up the game to head home.  Only to turn from dragging your pack out from under your seat to find someone settling themselves in the seat across from you.

He was lean, and what passed for clean cut down here.  Obvious trencher but with a class about him that was unusual.  Not too many other men you knew in the undercity bothered with wearing a tie, let alone one clipped to collar with a brass frame that gleamed dully at the throat.  The creamy white of it was a touch incongruitous with the slight shabbiness of the rest of his attire; sleeves of his shirt shoved up to just below elbows in a habitual way that had left rumples in the stiff burgundy and black striped linen that looked permanent.  Once black vest over-laundered now to more of a deep grey was neatly fitted to his whipcord frame and a bandage wound taut around one long thigh over dark pants.

One sharp gazed teal eye and one gogging round black eye with a pupil like a living hot coal watched you from under the line of his brow as long fingered hands laced themselves under the faint slice of a waiting smile.  You tried, and failed, not to stare at the dead, blackened scarred skin that swept back around that dark eye from the top of cheek to temple.  At all the deep carved scars that etched one half of his face and made crevasses in thin lips.

For all of it, he was sinisterly handsome, with a strange sense of youth offered to him by that slight build that seemed out of sorts with the assured confidence of his bearing.  He reached out and made the first move.

You sat there and stared.  The same quiet simmering menace you used to attribute to the hulking form of your father in your childhood rolling off the man across from you in silent waves.  He touched the trigger on his side of the little timing box you’d cobbled together yourself where it sat beside the board and the click-tick of it coupled with the start of the play clock snapped you into motion.

You made your move.

He countered.

“Silco.”  He offered, voice like oiled silk, pitched low.  Quiet.  Nothing loud about the man save for the warning claxons he set off in the back of your brain.   “Lovely board.”

“Thank you.”

“And you are?”  He countered again.

“Winning.  Checkmate.”  Blame it on your pride at taking him in so few moves, or the fact that he was a stranger and this was your park, your home turf, your game.  Blame it on the way he set you slightly off kilter.  Blame it on whatever you like, but the notion to offer the stranger a touch of sass instead of your name felt almost empowering, flew in the face of how intimidated he made you.  Won both the match and a little bit of your nerve back.

“Hmn.”  He stared down at the pieces in mild surprise.  And then reset his.  You reset the clock and your own pieces.  He spun the board, gave you the ivory set and the right to go first.  Out with king’s knight.

You took him in the next game in twenty.

Watched his teeth grit at your checkmate, but he still reset the board rather than get up and leave.  You turned it to give him first move.

“You’re from here?”  He asked quietly.  Going about his strategy more carefully this time. 

“Yes.  Born and raised.”  You countered, hit the clock. “And you?”

“Mining fissures.”  He replied with a hint of boredom in the flat tone of that soothing rasp of a voice.  Given his build and those fine hands that was a surprise, not to mention him being this far topside.  Few made it out of the mines once they went in.  

“What is it you do, besides wait for strangers to come play games with you?”  He asked, amusedly taking one of your pawns.

“Nothing of consequence.”  You answered, removing the threat of the knight that just took your pawn.  And glanced up to catch him staring sharply at you.  “Uh, I’m just a dogsbody for a local merchant.  Textiles.”

“You can read?  Write?”  Your turn to give him the cold glare, and it earned you a silent huff of a laugh as he made his next move, sliding queen’s bishop across the board. “Its a question, not an insult.”

“Yes, and do sums.”  You answered, stiff jawed in spite of his reassurances and your own knowledge that it wasn’t that odd of a question to ask someone down here.  Not everyone had the luxury of schooling and many were taught by parents who were barely taught themselves.  Better to put little hands to work to keep food on the table then send them to class to fill their little minds with the false hope they might someday be able to climb out of this pit. “Checkmate.”

Silco was staring at the board appraisingly before lifting the weight of his gaze to you again.  It was difficult to pick which eye to give your attention to.  That blue one was coolly commanding, but the unblinking stare of that livid red one... It was impossible to tear attention away from it.

Board reset, turned, clock ready.  Your move.

“What do you do, Silco?”  Pawn forward.

He hummed another little laugh to himself and took his move.

“I’m building.”

Not ‘I’m in building’  or not ‘I make buildings’ but rather the coy ‘I’m building’  struck your curiosity.  Your move.

“Anything in particular?” you asked mildly, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“The future.”  He countered your move.  “Check.”

Attention slid back to the board.  How had you missed it?  Clever little ruse.  Easily undone with a quick castling.  

“That sounds... ambitious.”  It sounded mad and self-important is what it sounded like, but he didn’t feel like the sort of man you said such things to.

“Hm.  And you lack ambition?”  Another move of his.  “Check.”

You flustered, glowered, felt your hackles rise.  Another wasted move to block... wait... hand hovered, moved to chose another route.

“Trying to survive is ambitious enough around here, don’t you think?  Check.”

That curling smile was back to touch one corner of his mouth as fingers flexed and extended like fine flight feathers on the end of a bird’s wing in their interlacing before his chin.  

“There’s more to life than just survival.  Checkmate.”

Your turn to stare at the board in shocked consternation.  It had been subtle, masterful, a perfect trap that teased you in move by move from the start and had played off your own gambits and technique, taken full advantage of your confidence.  

Silco pressed his finger down on stop of the play clock and rose, picking at the folded up cuff of his sleeve before offering you one last little slice of a smile. 

“If you’d like to play another game, or decide that you might be a bit more ambitious than simple survival, come down to the old cannery.”  He smoothed hands down his vest and gave the hem of it a tug to smarten it’s lay as he made to leave.  Let his head cant toward the side of that dark eye as he spared you one last glance before turning to go, gavel voice drifting back over one insolently slumping shoulder.  “The clock is ticking.  Time to make a move.”

#silco #silco drabble #silco x reader #silco sfw #drabble request #silco fic #arcane #arcane fic #honestly this might be the tamest thing with Silco in it I’ve ever written

[sweatandwoe]

Sweatyyyyyyyyy what if???? Accidental love confession????? I will get down on my knees and ask very nicely 🙏🏼

Oh hell yeah we can do this

Silco x GN!Reader

Tags: Love Confessions, Silco has one line in this whole fic, rip

-

You were pretty sure you weren't meant to see this. In fact you're 100% sure you were not meant to ever see this.

It had been in with the work papers, probably he had been attempting to hide it when you came in and shoved it with everything else. But here it was right in front of you.

A speech.

Really it was a confession, but it was one part of what you could assume was a much larger speech. Red pen dotted over the black, crossing out parts, but the words 'I love you' were very clear. Written at least three times on the page, twice scratched out.

And all three times had your name next to it.

You can't stop running your eyes over the page, your other work now forgotten. It was part of a much larger picture, one you had begun to imagine with growing clarity. Along with the growing weight of realization.

Silco is in love with you.

You.

It's almost hard to believe, but you can easily recall his favouritism in your mind. Buying you dinner because you were helping him work late in the office, offering to walk you home one time. A closeness had developed in the years of your working relationship, one you had just thought was a reward for hard work and loyalty.

But turns out it has been something deeper. Actually, it had been something deeper for a while now judging by the paper. Years maybe even.

You run your gaze over all the edits, and you remember Silco's want for perfectionism. And it's with that you get up from your office and make your way to his.

There's no knock, and he's running over actual paperwork and not writing. He glances up, surprise flashing in his eyes before they settle. "I'm assuming you have a good reason to barge in unannounced."

"A pretty good one." You hold up the paper. "Something snuck into my documents."

If there was ever an image needed for the definition of shocked, Silco's face now would've been perfect for it. His entire body locking up as he freezes, blue eye bulging like the black and red. His lips part, then close, then part again, but no words come out.

But no words are needed; you're rounding the desk before he can say any objection and leaning over to press your lips to his forehead. He doesn't move from it, his shoulders only moving to showcase his breathing. So you move downwards, making your way down his nose with more kisses before you cup his chin to close his mouth.

The kiss is brief, chaste and has your chest fluttering horribly. When you part, you can't stop yourself from beaming at him. "I love you too, Silco."

The words bring the life back into him. Hands raise, one finding your own and latching onto it while the other moves to your cheek. And you're soon being dragged down for more kisses.

Again.

And Again.

And Again.

#silco x reader #silco #arcane #sweaty asks #daily drabble arcane

[silcoitus]

headcanons for Silco when he's hurt? How's he deal with pain? Does he pick at scabs? Is he a man baby?

Omg I love this. I think it depends on the type of pain.

If it's an aching pain like a toothache, he will very stubbornly ignore it until it gets terrible and Singed has to force him to take Shimmer for it. But he's too vain to let it get so bad to warrant removing the tooth. He needs those chompers for uhh activities.

If it's something like a cut or wound from a fight, he's very self reliant and can tend to his wounds himself, from all those times he had to stitch up Vander and Benzo in The Before Times™️. He's become accustomed to suturing himself and can do it with ease. He's too proud to admit that the injuries hurt, but will allow someone else to stitch him up if they offer. But he would never ask.

He'll occasionally pick at a scab if he's in a particularly foul mood (usually brought on by any amount of time having to be spent in the proximity of Finn or Marcus). But he'll never let the other party see him doing it, opting to hide it underneath his desk. Nervous fidgeting like that can be seen as weakness and we all know how this man feels about that.

If it's a headache, he just smokes a cigar and calls it medicine.

Fun fact: the only reason he wears gold-toed boots is because he stubbed his toe on the coffee table ONCE and vowed to never let it happen again.

But oh Janna. If this man ever gets sick? Get ready for the whiniest, neediest man in all of Zaun. He so rarely gets any rest so when he does get sick (after sucking it up for like 3 days before Sevika throws him onto a bed and locks the door because she doesn't want to catch whatever he has) he milks it for what it's worth. But he only accepts Jinx or reader (yes this headcanon turned into a reader drabble: deal with it!) as his caretakers. Sevika's too rough and Singed's bedside manner is non-existent.

And we all know how he deals with emotional pain: NOT WELL.

#silcoitus #Silcoitus answers #silco hcs #silco headcanons #sick silco #silco drabble

[zkyfall]

500 word, sweet lil drabble about Vander and Silco reconciling. Idc about marriage much irl but Silco and Vander being husbands makes my heart go💓

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Vander wipes down the bar top as Silco glides down the stairs from the office, clipboard in hand. He’d been working from the office for weeks. Guess he was ready for a change of pace, or maybe he’d finally fallen back into the rhythm of the Last Drop. Vander snags a bottle, an old vintage, and uncorks it. It’d been a month since Silco had moved back in and Vander had woken up this morning with an odd mix of nostalgia and…gratitude. They’d faced years of pain and strife at each other's hands but somehow they ended up right back where they started. And alive, against all odds. 

Silco sits in his usual spot, just across from Vander. The same place he’d perched twenty years ago, so they could enjoy the quiet before open, and each other's company, as he balanced the books. 

“Mornin’ Sil,” Vander rumbles, “ sleep alright?”  Though Silco’s sharp gaze on Vander’s left hand tells him he’s not gonna get an answer.

“You kept the ring.” It’s not a question, of course Silco can see it bright as day glittering on Vander’s finger, but Vander answers anyways as he fixes him a drink.

“Yeah. I kept the ring.”

Silco blinks and taps his pen against the clipboard. “You should have sold it.”

“Maybe… but ’m glad I didn’t,” Vander murmurs as he slides Silco’s usual across the bar.

Silco turns his gaze from his hands to contemplate the warm amber liquid in his glass. “I threw mine in the Pilt.”

Vander nods, a lump in his throat. It’s no surprise, of course Silco did, after what happened… “That’s fair.”

“I was being…dramatic. Should have sold it.” Silco’s lip twitches as he swirls the whiskey. “Would have been worth at least a few drinks.” 

“Hmmm, that lil thing?” Vander remembers the ring, crafted from a gold hex he’d hammered thin and bent into shape with pliers. Made with love and defacing state currency? Silco was overjoyed. But he wouldn’t be bested, he disappeared and came back the next day with a gold band of his own and another bounty on his head. “One, maybe two drinks–” Vander tilts his head at Silco’s whiskey “–And not the good stuff.” 

The skin around Silco’s good eye crinkles in a secret smile as he sets the glass to the side. He reaches out and takes Vander’ calloused hand into his own. He rubs a finger along the worn metal. “It still looks good on you. Far better than that puffed up merchant.”

“Jealous?” Vander turn’s his wrist to capture Silco’s hand. He laces their fingers together. Enjoying how even Silco’s lanky fingers look delicate in his grasp. 

“No.” Wistful. Silco doesn’t say it but he looks it: mismatched eyes soft with an emotion he doesn’t need to put into words. After all these years, they finally understand each other. 

They enjoy each other's touch for a few precious moments then return to their tasks when they hear the kids start to wake up downstairs.

Vander hums an old tune as he finishes getting the Last Drop ready to open. He knows he’s got a gold hex lying around somewhere…

#zaundads #arcane drabbles #silco x vander #w-what if they were husbands #cant be normal about these middle aged gangsters

[godlyaffection]

Sitting on Silcos lap as he works on god knows what.

Your face is buried in his shoulder, your hands playing with the hem of his vest or trailing over his arms. As long as you don’t interfere with what he’s doing he doesn’t mind letting you sit there.

Eventually you’ll probably get restless and start moving around more or making more noise. Silco will sigh and tell you to be quiet if you’re really bothering him. But it’s you, as much as it may distract him he’s not going to actually do much about it. Silco will run his free hand along your back while he writes with his other one. He’ll even kiss the side of your face every now and then.

He’ll mumble words into your hair, telling you that he’ll just be a while longer, reminding you that he’ll spend proper time with you when he’s done. Silco is happy to indulge you when you want to spend time with you, and he quite enjoys having you around him as well.

When he’s all done with his work, Silco will really give you all his attention. Making you sit up and look at him, holding your face as you look at him as he thanks you for letting him finish his work. Silco is happy to do whatever you want for a while now since you were such a good boy for him.

#.written-word (drabbles) #x male reader #arcane #arcane writing #arcane x reader #arcane x male reader #silco #arcane silco #silco x male reader #silco x reader

[x-amount-verbs]

Silco teaching you pool from behind...with his arms around you... whispering instructions very close onto your ear that you feel every breath he takes, feel every small motion of his head right next to yours...and the feeling of his chest against your back...and he pulls out the good ole "good girl" when you get it right...and he doesn't immediately pull away after...and then when you look at him his face is in the perfect position for a lil kith-

[this isn’t all of that, cause I don’t know enough about pool, and am in the middle of some other stuff but uh— in the meantime; here, anon, have fun] [inspired by this piece by @angelqueen13art ]

Corner Pocket (silco x gn!reader, sfw)

“This is completely unnecessary,” you argue, feeling the heat spreading across your chest and up your neck.

Silco’s expression is infuriatingly demure apart from the sly hook to his lips, eyes downcast as he chalks the cue. All he offers is a mockingly consoling hum.

“I know how to shoot,” you point out.

“—People,” he finishes for you.

“-Which I would argue are more important than balls.”

He glances up, brow cocked as he lets you consider your words, and you scowl as the heat works its way across your cheeks.

“Not like that,” you mutter, shifting restlessly. His soft huff of laughter makes your ears burn. Hopefully he can’t tell.

As he moves into your space, you find yourself tensing up, going still, breath caught in your chest.

“Consider it a lesson.” That smoky drawl buzzes in the air between you as he offers the cue. As soon as you take it, his other hand brushes your back, making you jump. Eyes never break from yours, and he only keeps that knowing smirk as he slides his touch from the small of your back to the curve of your waist, a gentle pressure instructing you to turn.

The look you shoot him is as warning as it is wary. But you obey.

Silco’s body pressing up behind you, conforming to yours, is incredibly distracting from the so-called ‘lesson.’

Your words are a low indignant mumble. “…I don’t need you to-”

One hand presses you down, the other sliding along your arm to find your grip on the cue, putting your body into the shape he wants as he covers it.

Cheeks burn as a foot nudges your legs further apart. A tug low in your gut has your toes curling in your boots.

Silco adjusts your arms into the proper position. “Humor me,” he murmurs against your ear, close enough that each close-mouthed ‘m’ feels like a kiss.

#silco #silco arcane #arcane imagines #silco x reader #silco x gn!reader #silco x gender neutral reader #silco/reader #x-amount-writes #drabble #this would be longer but I’m working on the multichap lol