Arcane Silco x fem!Reader
Synopsis: this is a continuation of this post from @astudyincontrasts
Warnings: Explicit, nsfw, mishandling of paint, MDNI
Word Count: 1,863
A/N: I highly recommend checking out "Blasphemia" by Eliran Kantor (their Instagram). Don’t forget to reblog!
Today you wore a skirt and simple blouse under a heavy coat to mask your Piltover status as you rode the shaky elevator into the bowels of the Undercity.
Your nostrils flared to calm the racing wallop against your ribcage when you thought of your client’s recent letter for your presence.
It wasn’t intended to be this way at all, not that you were complaining. You indifferently suggested to attend a viewing of an old painting that had built a reputation for its audacious nudity, or so you had heard, but never in your wildest thoughts did you believe The Eye to be interesting in acrylic erotica after he had made it very clear that he preferred more physical interactions instead.
Remembrance of the desecrated bathroom counter made your legs wane and tongue lap forward along the dryness of your lip before the ding from the elevator signaled the doors to slide open into a neon lit world.
Walking up the lavish staircase to the pillared museum entrance felt like a marathon runner beating inside your chest, not from the exercise, but from the way Silco, again, never let his hand falter away from the small of your back, as if to lead you like he did the other time you both were here.
When inside however, his demeanor changed to a more collective stance, hands swinging behind his coattail in his regular poised manner – leaving you to mentally pout at the absence of his palm along your lower spine.
Everything he did had purpose, and today he wasn’t going to give you an inch until he decided when. Suddenly, your coat felt too tight so you removed it for some oxygen and gave it to the coat attendant at the entranceway.
As you approached closer to the area that housed the painting of interest, both sets of footsteps stopped when you saw a sign that stated:
Viewing closed for the evening. Gallery under maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience.
You tsked and rolled your eyes as you looked around annoyed before your neck turned back to Silco standing a little too close to the tape blocking off the section under care.
“Well?” Silco inquired with a straight look, an eyebrow raised, and the edge of his mouth pointing up just a bit at his subtle request to misbehave.
A single index finger lifted the tape, giving you the quick decision – looking around briefly – to bend over and sneak under it, your client also slipping past the cautionary tape behind you.
Passing by rows of artwork littering the vast hallways, you finally found the room with the erotic painting.
On entering the spacious gallery, there were multiple buckets of paint and tarps that lined the floor. Carefully maneuvering past the mess and the ladders where the walls would be made anew with a fresh coat of paint, some of the walls already finished, you and Silco approached the canvas of both your curiosity.
It was a small painting, maybe no larger than a twelve-by-twelve canvas, but the subject matter helped gravitate the eye and amplify the piece across the room.
Your eyes widened; heart galloped.
The woman was leaned over a table, her head craning backwards over the edge, hair drooping and tangled, while her jaw was slack and eyebrows stitched together. Her expression was a mix of pain and pleasure and one could only imagine the noises she cried from that open mouth. The source of her pleasure had your blood flushing to your groin, making your throat bob from how the painting left you desiring the same pain this woman was experiencing.
A man’s torso could be seen, but his head was cut off at the edge of the canvas. His waist spread the woman’s thighs apart. Despite the fact that his groin could not be seen, any viewer concluded what he was ploughing into this woman, beckoning such an expression from her.
An ache pulsated between your legs when your mind drifted into a filthy flashback of you hunched over and stuffed full over a bathroom sink.
The aftermath dripped onto your skirt while eating your meal across from the man who left you to soak in the mess he made of you, leaving a trail on your belongings you had to scrub out the next morning before it stained.
Your world tilted from the flush in your cheeks.
Walking to calm your beating pulse, you tried to brush the skin of your thighs together to ease the pool of moisture that had gathered along your slit.
Then a wave of shock hooked you by surprise when a hard tug of your elbow pulled you face-to-face with the man responsible for your mess below.
“Having to walk away?” Silco’s cool voice breathed against your cheek then next to the rim of your ear, sending another buzz through your nerves.
Your throat hitched from the deathly close proximity, flaring the heat already overtaking your limbs just as your knees didn’t feel like working.
Then it finally clicked together why Silco drew away this evening. He was collecting data, observant as ever, desiring to witness your undiluted reaction for his own curious amusement. Now he had what he needed.
“It’s what makes this painting so infamous. For some viewers to have an… adverse reaction to such a lude sight of a woman being fucked senseless,” he puffed directly along your neck, “Oh, I did my research, lovely. Now I know why you wanted to inspect this one out,” and smiled when you desperately clung to his shoulders for support from the unbearable spike of arousal being driven deeper into your body.
“Do you want me to take you again,” he teased his breath on the length of your throat this time.
“Do you want me to have you crying like that whore in the canvas?”
A bated whimper ghosted Silco’s hair, hands shaking from the tight grip on his coat, as you bore the fatigue of your edgy limbs anticipating his next indulgence on your body.
His eyes locked with yours when he moved a hair’s length away from the apple of your cheek before tilting his chin, lips brushing, your breath hitched, and palmed the nape of your neck.
Your whole body buckled when his mouth crashed into yours, foot taking a step back, all the while your skin hummed with electricity about to combust into a thousand nuclear explosions.
The pace of the kiss was rough and breathless. Tongues swirled exchanging saliva, his lapping the inside of your cheek and swallowing your moans with every consumption of your mouth.
A hand glided to the side of your hip and had you pacing backwards until you collided with the museum wall. You were too occupied to notice the sticky substance pinning your shirt to its barrier as white paint coated your backside.
Releasing your mouth with a pop and navigating himself, nose dragging along your skin, to claim a piece of your neck, you braced the wall with a hand, the other clutching raven locks, when long fingers split through your nether lips and harshly indented your pulsating nub making you churn and pant from the fireworks cramping your inner thighs.
Fingers scratched the wall having you gasp audibly when you could feel liquid sticking to the tips and your palm. Peeling your hand away and examining the white now pressed into the print of your palm, you tapped Silco’ head and called his name to get his attention.
He peered up, hair disheveled, face looking so sexy from his lust-filled haze, as you showed him the mess on your hand.
“The wall its—”
“If that is of more concern then we can leave now to wash up,” he chided flatly then leaned into the lobe of your ear and growled, “or I can fuck you against this wall and make a mess so the workers tomorrow know a slut ruined their hard work.”
Coat was shed and thudded on the ground while legs spread apart with the hoist of your body onto a lean waist. Your skirt was lifted by large fingers above your belly as you undid the buttons to Silco’s silk shirt. It parted open for you to explore the expanse of his bare chest, eyes wandering to the now split trousers below revealing trimmed bush encircling a hard cock resting on the visible skin of your stomach.
Your hole clenched in excitement when you realized you could relive the fullness you felt the day of the bathroom incident.
Silco took his cock in hand, pulling hips away from yours momentary, and gradually, your mind going faint, fed the length inside until it disappeared completely into your cunt.
The white mess on your palm splatter across the clothed space between Silco’s shoulder blades when he thrusted hard once which knocked the hasty breath from your lungs. Then he began a merciless pace up into you that had you crying desperately at the ceiling.
The paint on the wall smeared your clothes clinging to the wet barrier as your body was being shoved up and down wickedly fast, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ panting down the curve of your shoulder which made you spin even more, hole clinging tight to the penetration below.
Then, to stay true to the canvass, Silco shoved you onto the tarped ground now scrunching under your weight, crashing a bucket forward and causing a splash of white to leak across the unprotected marble floor.
His haunches were used to lift your rear off the tarp and get a better handle on your hips, fingers indenting the soft flesh as he railed your cunt, having your breasts bounce inside your bra from the brute force of being hammered just like the woman mutely echoing your cries on the wall.
You tipped your head back, hands loosely on the ground, as echoes of your keening flooded the gallery in time with every thrust against your bottom, legs swaying.
Every grunt-filled plow of his cock had you wailing. Silco got his wish to see you disheveled underneath him and you got your wish to be spread like a whore, walls painted filthily with the thick brush of the cruel artist that wielded it inside you.
You pinched yourself around Silco harder as the fire snapped in your lower half.
Silco’s curled forward and stood on his knees, pinching your body, penetration sputtered as he vocally released himself in thick ropes. Vision blurred, your mouth dropping open in a wide oval with one last tapered moan, as your cunt was filled up.
Relaxing back down onto his calves, the man above you stretched his neck up to the ceiling and huffed down his fill of well needed air.
His shirt was drenched at the armpits and collar while his rolling stomach glistened with a sheen of sweat, a few drops crawling down the space of his chest. Then he peered down and took in the blissfully disgraced sight laid below, cock still shoved inside pussy.
“Was that what you imagined in the painting?” he exhaled.
You were too spent, so a brief nod would have to do.
Hello !! I saw that your silco requests are open, may i ask maybe smth along the lines of "Will you be my wife again?" And "you're as beautiful as the day i lost you" 🥺🥺 *coUgHs* mayhaps is this from httyd who knows e h e
A/N: Hello!! I watched the scene you were referring to and teared up a little (i’m just an emotional wreck right now, don’t look at me haha). Thank you for requesting and for being patient <3
Silco x f!reader, 1.6k words, SFW
Warnings: angst, fluff, past heartbreak, misunderstandings, post-killing Vander, slight canon-divergence
While it’s true that we all carry our heartbreak around with us, especially when living in a place that was so agonisingly full of tragedies, you couldn’t help but feel like yours was just that bit heavier.
As a young revolutionary, your marriage to Silco had been delightfully sweet and heart-wrenchingly short. After only a year of being practically inseparable from your new husband- adoring the way your heart lit up anytime he entered the room, the way he made the tough days bearable- Vander had returned one day with the worst news possible.
Silco had left you.
The Hound had insisted he didn’t know the reason, but assured you that Silco wasn’t coming back. And that was all he would say about the incident, no matter how many times you cried and pleaded with him to tell you why he’d left. Of course, you’d desperately searched for him for months on end until you grew too tired and too grief-stricken to keep looking.
And like anyone who shoulders the soul-wrenching task of moving on, you’d hardened over the years, never again letting someone in, like you had done when you’d given your whole heart to Silco. In fact, the abandonment had been so painful, you’d left the Children of Zaun altogether, no longer seeing the point in fighting when its most dedicated member had up and left just like that.
If he didn’t believe in the cause anymore, why should you?
Seeing your empty eyes and broken heart, the rest of the group had quietly accepted your resignation and you’d never spoken to any of them again.
Trying to adopt a new identity, as one does when you so desperately want to leave your harrowing past behind you, you’d found a new job, one that lended itself in your quest to keep yourself to your goddamn self.
It was better this way.
And while the barbed thoughts of your ephemeral husband would never leave you, they were no longer at the forefront of your mind. Safely locked away, only seeing the light of day when the odd thing reminded you of him. Like the mutated fish in the river he was so enraptured by, or the neon lights that used to illuminate his seafoam eyes until they were brighter than the stars in the Piltovian sky.
Since you could never fully escape those pesky little thoughts of what was and what could have been, you put whatever was left of your fragmented soul into surviving.
Your new job, that you were currently in the middle of attending to on this dark, rainy night, consisted of watching shipments overnight until they were ready to be moved in the morning. And whilst it was an overwhelmingly tedious job for most, for you, it was perfect.
That is, perfect until you hear a startling noise behind you as you stand and watch the unmoving crates of stock.
You quickly swing around to face the door, your knife out in front of you, ready to defend yourself against the intruder. But you almost drop it when you see just who has entered the large room.
Your long-lost husband.
You feel like time has stopped.
“Silco?” you eventually squeak, your voice much quieter than you had intended.
He doesn’t say anything as he begins his slow saunter across the room towards you. And despite him being instantly recognisable, you can’t help but notice the changes in his appearance. His hair is much shorter now and his clothes are much more refined than anything you’d ever seen him when you were basically still teenagers.
He looks older, but still just as handsome, is the thought that you quickly shake from your startled mind.
Not knowing what else to do, you start rambling at him in your disbelief.
“You have no right to come back here, you left me, your wife! After everything we went through together, you just up and left me without a single word,” you don’t realise you’re crying until your voice wobbles on those last few syllables.
Silco continues his slow prowl towards you and that’s when you notice his eye. No longer two matching seafoam eyes that used to glimmer in the neon lights, now one has been replaced with an eternally black sclera and a swirling red iris.
You manage to continue your monologue even though your throat suddenly feels dry and scratchy.
“So you don’t get to just appear out of thin air like this. It’s not fair Silco, I’ve moved on.”
He finally stops directly in front of you, less than a foot away and you instantly stop your impassioned little speech when Silco gently wipes away the tears running down your cheeks. You hate how eagerly you lean into his touch.
Truth be told, you’d craved it for years, but that didn’t mean what he’d done to you was suddenly okay.
When he finally speaks, his voice is as low as you remember it being and his eyes are full of concern as he studies your tear-stained face.
“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”
You think your heart has stopped beating.
Now face to face with the man whose soul was intertwined with yours, you finally notice just how dishevelled he looks. His clothes and hair are soaking wet and he’s covered in a watery mixture of blood and dirt.
You immediately begin to worry about him. Where the hell had he just come from?
“Silco, what happened?” you ask, your voice quiet and shaky.
All at once, your words seem to transport him to a distant place in his mind, a place that can’t be all that pleasant given the way his jaw tightens on reflex.
“I’m in charge of Zaun now. And I’m going to finish what we set out to do all those years ago,” he tells you when he finally snaps back to the here and now.
You wonder what had happened to Vander. The last you’d heard, he was the unofficial leader of the Undercity. But you don’t have time to ask because Silco is cupping your cheek with his hand and looking directly into your eyes when he speaks again.
“I did it all for you.”
There’s a brief pause before you scoff and take one step backwards, so he’s no longer touching you. Did he really think he could just waltz in here years after leaving you and expect you to believe he’d done it in your best interest?
But once again, you can barely get a word in edgeways before he says your name softly, taking in your obvious indignation.
“I can’t do this without you,” he murmurs.
“You’ve clearly been doing just fine without me,” you manage to get out, gesturing to his fancy (albeit rather filthy) clothes.
Silco seems entirely nonplussed by your attempt to insult him, instead taking another step towards you so he’s back in your personal space.
“I’ve missed you, my dove, more than I could ever say.”
Frustratingly, you can feel his words chipping away at you, just like they did before you were even married. Damn him, he always was a smooth talker.
Silco slowly leans forward so your face is inches away from his, stopping just in front of your trembling lips, and it all feels entirely too natural.
“I love you more than life itself,” he whispers, his breath dancing across your cheek.
Truth be told, your response to his confession arrives so automatically in your mind, it’s almost like you’d been born to say it, but the years of hurt and grief add a barrier that makes it so difficult to say aloud.
Part of you wants to lie. To push him away after he left you without any explanation.
But you know you can’t. Deep down, you’re just glad that he’s back. Alive and well.
So you say the words that you’d spent countless hours begging the gods to allow you to express to him once more.
“I love you too, Silco.”
Upon hearing those words, his lips connect with yours in a rapturous kiss, that for just a few suspended moments, makes you feel like the world is right again.
The hole in your heart has been filled by the very man who punctured it in the first place.
Pulling back for breath, Silco rests his forehead against yours, sighing as his good eye closes, the corrupted one looking down at the floor. He finds your left hand and traces his fingers along your own, clearly stroking the wedding band you’d kept on for all these years.
You know he’d kept his on as well because you’d felt the smooth, cold metal against your skin when he’d cupped your cheek earlier.
“Will you be my wife again?” Silco asks you, his voice low and full of hope.
You hate that you still love him despite him leaving you and not even gracing you with the reason why. You hate that you’re inevitably going to say yes to his monumental question. But more than anything, you hate that he knows you will say yes, because he’s the one who shaped your soul until it fitted with his perfectly.
But before you can answer, there’s a flurry of blue that moves across the doorway, and you pull back from him, peering over his shoulder.
“What was that?” you exclaim, worried you’re about to be ambushed by someone. Gods, you were so fired when your boss finds out what happened.
“Come back with me to the bar, my lovely, and I’ll explain everything,” Silco says, leaning to put himself back in your line of vision.
And of course, you will, but you know without a shadow of a doubt that you’re letting yourself in for one hell of a ride, because whatever had happened to him had clearly been life-changing.
But evidently not entirely life-changing, given that his love for you hadn’t wavered after all these years. And that’s what urges you to take the next, terrifying step with the man you loved, love, and will always love, with all your heart.
Would Silco like horror movies?
I’m taking a break from the witchy!reader x Silco fic for the night and watching Friday the 13th. It’s got me thinking, so let's discuss! This is completely train of thought as I'm watching the movie, so excuse any grammatical mistakes.
As a general reminder, all my stuff is 18+ so minors DNI
Pairing: Silco x afab!reader
Warnings: discussion of horror/the supernatural, mentions of violence, sex, general R-rated horror movie stuff, Silco being a little shit, foreplay, dom/sub dynamics, hinted older man/younger woman, cockwarming, y'all know the drill
He would absolutely like making fun of the stupid teenagers in slashers.
"Now, who would do that?!" "Dear, you know there has to be a plot to the movie, right? If everyone made intelligent decisions, there would be no movie."
Silco would like Scream. I have no further elaboration.
He would refuse to watch horror movies if Jinx was anywhere nearby. He would hate to make her nightmares worse, and god help the poor henchmen who she talks into showing her one. They would be living their own worst nightmares for the rest of their (considerably shortened) lives.
That being said, he would adore a rare night in with you, watching a movie in your shared bedroom.
Even if Silco didn't like horror movies, he'd watch them with you if you liked them. Especially if it meant you'd hold onto him a little tighter or snuggle a little closer that night. It would definitely inflate his ego for you to see him as your big, strong protector.
I don't think he'd be scared of the slashers because they are just glorified criminals with knives, and that's just a particularly weird Tuesday for him. He's seen a lot of weird shit. Honestly, he's caused a lot of weird shit.
I do think supernatural horror would freak him out a little. Unlike with slashers, there's really nothing solid to fight, see, or outsmart. Silco is big on control, so taking that out of his hands would be very unnerving to him.
Above almost all other things, he is a smug bastard, so I could absolutely see him teasing the hell out of you. "You certainly do seem to like horror movies, my lovely. Except in real life, you fell for the big, bad monster."
Circling back to him making fun of the teenagers, he would absolutely make fun of all the cliche sex scenes.
Silco cocked an eyebrow, "Really? That was worth dying for? Two minutes of that pretentious little prick sloppily thrusting into her? Tch." The corner of his lip twitched up into a smirk as he gazed down at you, red eye glowing mischievously in the dim light. Silco snuck his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap. "I may not be young and pretty like those boys, but I can definitely do better than that. Let me show you how a real man fucks."
As mentioned previously, Silco is a smug bastard. Quite honestly, I think he would get a kick out of getting you all riled up before the movie. Trailing teasing touches all over your body and sucking at the tender flash covering the pulse point of your neck before biting down.
Silco let out a low, breathy chuckle at the way you keened and whined under his sinful ministrations. "What?" he smirked coyly, "is someone enjoying herself?" His deft fingers trailed up to tease one of your peaked nipples as he soothed the bite with a kiss. Your responding moan pulled another smirk from the kingpin as he gathered you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. One of Silco's hands grasped your hip, pulling you down as he ground his cock against the ample swell of your ass.
"Oh my lovely, I'm going to stuff that pretty cunt full." Silco slipped his aching cock into your tight heat, groaning at the feeling of being fully enveloped in you. "We are going to watch the movie just like this."
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Eros | Silco x Reader
Pairing: Silco x Female Reader
Word count: 7.9k+
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY minors begone), drug use, non-consensual drug use, sex pollen, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, mild degrading, brief mention of blood and violence, feelings
Summary: There’s an unknown drug going around The Lanes that’s eating into Silco’s shimmer profits. While confronting a rival Chem Baron about the situation, he is hit with a concentrated dose of the drug which has...strange effects.
Note: This is my first smut fic and I am but a humble simp, I know nothing about League of Legends. Please be kind <3 You can also read on AO3
Silco had grown increasingly frustrated with whatever drug was now on the streets of The Undercity that was encroaching on his shimmer market. Although the profits remained steady, enough people were getting their fix from this alternative source that it was noticeable on the ledgers.
It took weeks to figure out what it was. People weren’t as open about it as they were with shimmer, but maybe it was because shimmer was everywhere and this drug was still relatively new.
Some of Silco’s lackeys had tracked the source to a manufacturing facility owned by the flashy and juvenile Finn, a rival Chem Baron that Silco loathed. He always maintained that Finn was greedy and entitled because his upbringing in Zaun wasn’t a constant fight to survive like Silco’s had been decades ago.
You didn't much care for Finn either. You had been just as displeased as Silco when you were informed that the new drug, which was referred to as Eros on the streets, was one of Finn’s creations - no doubt an attempt to undermine Silco’s monopoly over Zaun’s feeble economy.
Silco, never one to ignore a challenge, had sent Sevika to invite Finn to The Last Drop to have a friendly chat about Finn’s newest business venture and to remind him that there was a reason Silco was the sole boss of The Undercity.
That was where you found yourself now, on the upper level of the club standing outside of Silco’s office as he and Finn conversed on the other side of the door. The floorboards creaked as you shifted from foot to foot and shifted your eyes between revelers among the colourful strobe lights on the dancefloor down below and the other two goons who stood near you guarding the Silco’s intricately designed office door. Eavesdropping was hopeless due to the deafening music with a pulsating bass line that was blaring through the club’s speakers.
You hoped things were going well in there. And by well, you meant you hoped Silco was getting his point across that he was not to be messed with. The other Chem Barons had gotten too comfortable lately with challenging his authority and he’d had to remind them more than once who was in charge.
Silco could be terrifyingly ruthless when he wanted to be. If you were smart, you would be frightened of him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Since you had come under his employ as his advisor and negotiator, he had always treated you with respect and fairness. Normally you would be in the room with him for a conversation like this, but he had wanted to handle this one alone.
“Not that I do not value your sage advice,” he had informed you earlier. “But this particular conversation may require some...unpleasantness on my part that I do not wish you to bear witness to.”
A little voice in your head told you he was doing this to protect you from his deadly temper, but your rational thinking told you that trustworthy employees were in short supply these days and he didn’t want you to scurry away if you saw him at his worst.
Not that you would. You liked Silco, more than you let yourself admit. He was dashingly attractive despite his maimed left eye and the scarring that covered half of his face. It frightened most people, but you always found it captivating. It was one of the many things about him you allowed yourself to ponder in the depths of night when you were alone in your bed. There had been many times you had laid among your cool sheets imagining the sound of Silco’s smooth voice crooning in your ear, the sight of his lithe body underneath those perfectly tailored clothes, the feel of his skin against yours…
The sight of Silco’s office door opening cast you out of your reverie. Finn exited the room with a smug look on his tattooed face and turned his attention towards you as he quickly closed the door.
You had expected him to look less...well...proud of himself at the conclusion of this meeting. You expected him to be humbled, not triumphant.
Finn moved towards you, giving you that sickening smile accented by the golden jaw piece he wore before leaning forward and speaking in your ear, practically yelling over the loud music.
“Have fun with him. Should wear off in a few hours.”
You were too stunned and confused to ask what the hell he meant before he stalked off, flicking his gold lighter on and off in his hand as he descended the stairs and exited the club.
The goons outside of the door eyed you curiously. Ignoring them, you approached the office door and knocked lightly. If the meeting had gone in Finn’s favour, you knew Silco would be in a piss poor mood and would likely want to be left alone. However, given Finn’s strange words before he departed, you thought it best to check on him.
Silence met your ears, so you knocked again and called out through the wooden door.
“Boss, is everything alright?”
You strained your ears to hear any sign of life on the other side of the door, but there was nothing. You rapped on the surface again, harder this time.
“Let me be!” He snapped. Your breath caught in your chest, he didn’t sound angry but rather...distressed. He never spoke to you like that.
Something was wrong.
“I’m coming in,” you called through the door, trying to keep your voice as light as possible so as not to aggravate him further if he really was just in a shitty mood.
You turned the doorknob and slipped inside the room, being careful not to open the door too wide and closing it quickly so the goons outside wouldn’t be able to see him if he was in a state of distress. Silco wouldn’t want to appear as weak, especially to his own men.
The door clicked shut and you turned towards the open room to face Silco’s desk. The golden light from dusk shone delicately through the patterned circular window, casting the room in a faint shadowy glow with dust particles dancing through the rays of light. The booming music from below was now pleasantly muffled, and his office smelled faintly of cigar smoke and whiskey, laced with another scent you knew too well that you could only describe as Silco. Sharp, musky, and utterly seductive.
Silco’s ornate desk chair was turned away from you and the desk to face the window. Even from this angle, you could see his slender hands gripping the leather arms of his chair and you could tell he was breathing heavily. The floorboards creaked as you tentatively took a step forward.
He didn’t reply right away and seemed to take a moment to collect himself. Then you heard him grit out, “You need to leave. Now.”
The normally controlled timbre of his voice sounded strained. You took another step towards his desk.
“Did something happen with Finn?”
No response, just the sound of his rapid breathing and the thumping of the club down below. You tried again. “Silco-”
He abruptly spun around in his chair to face you. The sight that greeted you caused a small gasp to escape between your lips.
Silco, always the picture of composure and ease, looked absolutely unhinged before you.
Teeth bared, his usually tidy hair was disheveled, dark strands hanging in his face. A sheen of sweat made his pale skin glisten and there was a wild look in his eye you had never seen before. He had taken off his cream-coloured tie and undone the top buttons of his dress shirt, exposing his collarbones to the still air of the room.
“You. Need. To. Leave.”
Your eyes continued to scan him, concerned, until they landed on his crotch.
There was a noticeable bulge in his pants that made your mouth go dry. Despite the thoughts careening through your brain right now at the sight before you, you knew something was seriously wrong.
You looked at his face again to find him still eyeing you with that animalistic expression and crossed the room so you were now standing beside his desk. Silco followed your every step with his eyes but did not move his head to look at you as you neared his chair.
“Silco, what did Finn do to you?” You questioned, concern edging your voice. You hoped whatever it was that there was a way to help him, and quickly.
“The meeting was going fine,” he breathed out, clearly struggling to put a coherent thought together. He still didn’t look at you, in fact he now laid his head on his forearms on the surface of his desk.
“Then that…weasel pulled out a bottle and sprayed me with something. Said I needed to experience it to understand.”
Oh gods, he was talking about the Eros drug.
“He- he drugged you?!” You could not believe Finn had the balls to drug the most powerful crime lord in Zaun who could easily have him killed without lifting a finger.. What the hell was he thinking?
“With a concentrated airborne dose, it seems,” Silco muttered, still with his head down.
Your mind began whirring as you put the pieces together. Finn had come to this meeting with the intent to make Silco feel the effects of Eros in hopes that Silco would want to keep it on the street. Or just to fuck with him. Likely the latter. Eros usually came in the form of a pill taken orally, which meant that Finn had gone to special trouble just to create an airborne form of the drug to spray in Silco’s face. And if he had sprayed a concentrated dose like Silco said…
“Eros is an aphrodisiac...” you murmured, not quite believing the situation you were in.
“That it is.”
Which meant that Silco’s current affliction was that he was insanely horny.
Well, shit. That explained the bulge in his pants.
An unsolicited thought entered your mind.
There are ways you could help him, you know.
Absolutely not. There was no way you could take advantage of him in this state. Maybe he could sleep it off?
Taking the final step towards his chair, your steps muted by the rug beneath your feet, you laid a hand on his shoulder and inquired gently, “what can I do to help?”
As soon as your fingers made contact with him, he shot up in his chair like lightning and inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Recoiling your hand immediately, you took a step back.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
Silco exhaled shakily before speaking in a clipped tone, “no, just...sensitive.” After a moment he repeated, “you need to go.”
“I’m not leaving you like this-”
Silco turned to face you fully now, and the dark look in his eyes made your core feel like molten lava. When he spoke, his voice was deeper, huskier, more sensual than you had ever heard it.
“If you stay here I may do something that I will very much regret when this damn drug wears off. It’s all I can do right now just to look at you.”
You paused. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and Silco looked like he was ready to pounce. He wanted you.
It’s because of the drug, you reminded yourself, but you still spoke before you could think better of it.
“I could help.”
Silco narrowed his eyebrows. “What.”
You took a step forward, and against your better judgment, moved a strand of graying hair out of his face and combed it back onto his head. You were so focused on the feeling of how soft his hair was between your fingers that you didn’t notice right away that Silco had closed his eyes and relaxed his tensed muscles. You spoke in a more hushed tone now.
“I could help you, if you want. I don’t mind. I just don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re like this.”
Silco’s eyes popped open and he looked up at you where you still stood above him with your fingers absentmindedly combing through his hair.
“Take advantage? Of me?”
“You’re under the influence, you don’t know what you’re saying-”
“I know exactly what I am saying.”
“But you don’t really want me, it’s the drug talking-”
In a flash, Silco’s hand reached up to grasp your wrist to stop your movements in his hair. Your eyes widened and your heart began to race, not sure what he was going to do next. You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you, but the heat of his hand and his body only a foot from your own was starting to affect you regardless of any Eros particles still floating around the room. The wetness growing between your legs wasn’t from any drug either. It was from him and the undeniable effect he had on you.
“You think I don’t want you?” He growled, eyes boring into your own. “You think I haven’t wanted you from the first moment you walked into this very room?”
You were stunned and didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at him, lips parted and eyes wide. You were so caught off guard that you didn’t notice Silco was moving until he had already stood up and picked you up by the waist, perching you on top of the map on his desk with a snarl. You gasped and he leaned forward, caging you in with his arms. His face was only inches from yours and you could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell his intoxicating cologne weaving its way into your consciousness.
“Do you really think,” he growled and grabbed one of your hands, moving it so that you were cupping his bulge. His much larger hand pressed your smaller one onto his clothed length. “That this isn’t all for you?”
Your head was spinning. You let out a whine as you felt him beneath your palm, hard and thick even through the fabric of his pants.
“But- but the drug-”
“Ah yes, but the drug only does so much. Where do you think my mind wanders when my cock gets hard, hm?”
“Silco,” you moaned then. His smooth voice was enough to stoke the embers of desire inside you, but him saying such filthy things to you in that voice made you burn from the inside out.
Looking directly into his eyes, you gave him an experimental squeeze. He hissed, eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d still like to help you,” you whispered. You could feel the gentle puffs of air on your lips now, he was so close.
“Do it,” he breathed.
You removed your hand off his cock and he let out a strangled noise of protest until you brought both of your hands up to rest against his chest. You could feel the hard muscle beneath the fine material of his vest and idly wondered, not for the first time, how his bare skin would feel against your own. You slid your hands up his shoulders and twined them around his neck, pulling him in closer to you.
Tilting your face up towards his, you did what you had only ever fantasized about and kissed Silco.
The moment your lips made contact he groaned and brought his hands up to your waist. His grip on your body was strong, and he pulled you flush against him as his mouth moved against yours. He was standing in between your legs now, and with you still sitting on the desk, it was the perfect position for him to grind himself against you.
It didn’t take long for him to take control of the kiss. Silco was all tongue and teeth and he was making your head spin. What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of your tongues as Silco slipped his inside your mouth, leaving you moaning and caressing his back with your hands. Occasionally he would pull away only slightly to nip at your bottom lip with his teeth before diving back in and claiming your mouth once again.
To your surprise, Silco was making his own delightful noises. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but the various moans and groans and growls coming from deep within his chest only made you wetter for him and want to please him more. The combination of his own sounds, the sound of your lips against each other, and the feeling of his erection against your core was overwhelming.
He was still grinding his clothed cock against you when you decided it was time to give him some reprieve from the effects of the Eros. You pulled away from his kiss, and let out a small chuckle as he chased your lips and pouted when he saw you begin to stand.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” you cooed, cupping his cheek and brushing your fingers along the scarred side of his face. He watched you intently, and his eyes widened when you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back so he fell into his leather cushioned chair once again.
You took a brief moment to look at him like this. Completely disheveled, guard down, legs spread in his chair as he looked up at you simultaneously with wonder and animalistic desire. His face was illuminated by the evening sun and - not for the first time - you realized he was beautiful.
You smiled at him as you moved to stand between his legs and sank to your knees.
“Oh, fuck…” Silco breathed out to no one in particular. He was mesmerized, chest heaving as he watched you fiddle with the flaps on his pants before pulling them down and freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear.
Fuck, he was big.
Despite his slender frame, Silco’s cock was long and heavy. For a moment you wondered if you would be able to fit him all in your mouth, but you were going to try. The competitive part of you wanted to ensure you were the best he ever had.
Looking up at him through your lashes, you took his cock in your hand and brought your tongue to the red tip and licked at the slit where beads of precum had already begun to gather.
Silco let out a loud groan and threw his head back against the chair, squeezing his eyes shut. He gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles as you began to give his head kitten licks and drag your tongue along the underside of the tip.
Gathering spit in your mouth, you let it dribble out between your lips and travel down his shaft to give you some lubrication as you began stroking him. After teasing him with small licks and kisses, you finally took the tip of his cock on your mouth, sealed your lips around it, and sucked.
“Oh, gods, darling, that’s it,” Silco sighed above you. The sound of his wrecked voice caused you to moan as you bobbed up and down his shaft. Absently, you squeezed your thighs together to give yourself some friction as your other hand was now occupied with fondling Silco’s balls.
He pried his eyes open, and the sight that greeted him as he looked down nearly made him cum right then and there.
You, on your knees, looking up at him with innocent, pretty doe eyes with his cock between your lips. He unclenched one of his hands from the arm of his chair and began to softly stroke your face, wiping the tears that began to fall from your eyes as you took him deeper and deeper.
“Pretty girl,” he muttered absentmindedly. You made a sound in your throat in response that vibrated up his shaft, causing him to curse under his breath. He moved his hand to begin stroking at your hair as he watched you go to work on him in awe.
You decided to be bold and flattened your tongue and pushed yourself further onto his cock, taking him into your throat. Silco made a choking noise above you and you felt a twinge of pain on your scalp as he gripped your hair, but you didn’t mind. In fact, the feeling sent a pleasant tingle of pleasure down your spine to your core. He was beginning to lose control of himself, you could tell. Your hands, which were now placed on his thighs, could feel the muscles tighten as he approached his peak.
“I’m close,” he ground out. You flicked your eyes up and saw him watching you, slack jawed with half-lidded eyes and his hair mussed once again. Gods, he was stunning like this.
You pulled off of him and Silco began to protest. “What-”
“Fuck my face,” you croaked, your voice sounding hoarse from his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. “I want you to cum in my mouth.”
You thought Silco might actually die right there based on the look on his face.
Before he could react, you took him in your mouth again, and clearly he heard what you said because he gripped your hair with one hand and the back of your head with the other, and began to thrust into your mouth.
“You’re such a dirty thing, aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck your face like this, you like that?”
You made a garbled noise in response and Silco chuckled darkly.
“Yes you do, such a good girl.”
His thrusts became erratic, and he grumbled out a warning before throwing his head back and making a guttural noise as he finished inside your mouth. You felt hot ropes of his cum fill your throat, and Silco stopped moving as you swallowed around him.
You didn’t stop until you had taken every last drop, and when he was done, only then did you pull off him with a pop and sit back on your haunches to admire your handiwork.
Silco was wrecked.
He was slumped in his chair, breathing heavily, his hair disheveled with strands hanging in his face and looking at you with an utterly ruined expression on his face.
“Feel better?” You asked. You sounded cheeky, but you were genuinely still concerned about the effects of the Eros.
Silco made a huffing noise that sounded like a disbelieving laugh as he tucked his cock back into his pants, but still looked at you with the same hunger he had minutes ago.
“I need to taste you,” he responded matter-of-factly. His silky voice was like music to your ears, calling you to him.
You shuddered and stood up, walking towards him as he watched you like a predator watches prey.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.
Never one to question his orders, you began to strip, first removing your shirt and then your boots and pants until you were left only in your underthings. Silco’s eyes heated your skin as they roved over your body, watching intently as you unclasped your bra and tossed it to the side.
“Beautiful,” he murmured to no one but himself as his eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your exposed chest. You were about to shimmy out of your panties until he held up a hand and instructed, “leave those on. On the desk.”
You obeyed and returned to your original seat on his desk. Still eyeing your body, he stood up and closed the gap between you with one swift stride. He placed his warm hands on your thighs and spread them apart as he stepped between them. Leaning over your body and laying you down across the wooden surface, he nipped your earlobe before his gravelly voice filled your head.
“I’m going to devour you.”
You let out a whimper and before you know it, Silco was sliding your lacy panties down your legs and tossing them aside and sinking to his knees.
There was something thrilling about having Silco, the most powerful crime lord in Zaun, kneeling before you fully clothed as you lay naked on his desk. Anyone could walk in at any moment, you hadn’t locked the door, and the walls were thin, not that anybody would be able to hear you over the club’s music anyway.
He positioned himself between your legs and was about to taste you when he paused and a wicked smile crossed his face.
“My, my, what’s all this?”
He dragged one of his fingers through your folds teasingly, causing you to keen at his teasing touch. He brought his index finger up to show you the undeniable wetness glistening in the fading light.
“All this for me, darling?”
You nodded, making an ‘mhm’ noise and Silco gave you an utterly sinful grin before diving into your folds.
There was no teasing you as you had done with him, the Eros drug was clearly still affecting him. He lapped at your wetness and groaned like a man starved.
You writhed on the desk as he eagerly licked between your folds. The feeling of his hot tongue on your most sensitive parts was overwhelming and so much better than you had imagined in your late night fantasies. He put his whole body into it, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you in place as he feasted on your cunt.
The noises he was making were primal, moans and groans that only increased your own arousal as he licked at your entrance. His nose was brushing deliciously against your clit and you began to grind up into his face to increase the friction. You had just started moving your hips when Silco moved off you and tutted at you, causing you to whine.
“Now, now, be a good girl. Let daddy have his meal.”
You must have said that out loud because Silco chuckled darkly before returning to his task. His eyes continued to bore into yours, however, watching you intently as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.
You covered your mouth with your hand as you moaned and arched off the desk, sparks of pleasure dancing up your spine. Your eyes were now screwed shut so you didn’t even notice when Silco grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your mouth.
“None of that. I want to hear you,” he chastised.
You looked down at him and nodded. After giving you a warning look, he returned his mouth to your clit and slipped a finger inside you. His other hand was now splayed across your stomach to hold you down as you squirmed beneath his assault on your cunt.
He soon added a second finger and began to pump them in and out of you as his tongue continued to dance on your clit. It was so fucking good, he was so good at this, playing your pussy like an instrument. Your whimpers and moans grew louder as the coil in your stomach tightened, and Silco’s tongue on your clit moved faster as he could feel you begin to clench around his fingers.
When he angled them upwards and found the spot inside you that made you see stars, you shattered.
You screamed his name and arched off the desk as your orgasm ripped through you. Despite his warning earlier, you grasped his head with both of your hands and moved your hips against his face. He didn’t seem to mind though, he continued to groan and lick you through your orgasm until you came down from your high.
Utterly dazed, you watched as he pulled off your cunt, removed his fingers from inside you, and looked you dead in the eyes as he licked them clean. He was wicked, looking at you with hooded eyes and his chin glistening with your juices. Unable to do anything else, you let out a small whimper as you watched him continue to feed on your sweet nectar.
“Exquisite,” he murmured.
Your breathing slowed as you came back down to the present, you were now covered in a sheen of sweat with a pleasant tingling traveling throughout your body. Silco was still standing over you, breathing heavily, and you reached out your hand for him.
He took it and allowed himself to be guided over to you. You sat up and pressed yourself closer to him, and looked up at him with a pleasantly satisfied expression on your face. Silco’s own expression was one of amusement as his mismatched eyes took in your disheveled state, confirming that he had done his job well.
Feeling utterly euphoric, you gave him a kiss and wrapped your arms around his waist.
“How are you feeling now?” You asked against his lips.
“Ravenous,” he hummed, and before you could enquire further, you felt his hardness pushing up against your body again.
You made small noises of pleasure as Silco began to kiss the underside of your jaw, and then your neck, and back up to the spot behind your ear that had you keening in his arms as he began to suck, marking you as his.
“I need more,” he ground out. You could feel the vibrations of the gravelly timbre of his voice in his chest and began to feel your own arousal building again.
“I need to be inside you,” Silco whispered in your ear, causing you to shudder.
“Please,” you breathed out in return, clutching him even tighter to you as if he would disappear at any moment and you would wake up from this lovely dream.
Suddenly he was picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he carried you towards a door on the far wall of his office that presumably led to his bedroom.
You had never seen the room where Silco slept, let alone been inside of it. He opened and closed the door with ease, placing you on the silk sheets of his bed and allowing you to lay back as he stood before you.
The sheets felt heavenly against your skin and smelled like him. The room was surprisingly modest, but you weren’t exactly focused on the decor at the moment.
You lay back on your elbows, eyeing Silco’s frame towering over you at the edge of the bed. He did indeed look ravenous. That hungry, dark look in his eye had not dissipated at all despite your activities in the office.
The way he was eyeing you now would feed your fantasies for months. Wanting to make yourself look as enticing as possible, you shifted your body on the bed, cocked your head at him, and bit your lip.
“You,” you started, bringing your bare foot up to caress the bulge once again straining against his pants, “are wearing far too many clothes.”
Silco made a low noise you couldn’t describe as his eyes darkened even further.
Never breaking your gaze, he began to undo the intricate gold buttons to free himself of his vest. Once he had tossed that aside, he undid the cuffs of his crimson dress shirt and began to work on the buttons down the front. One by one, his long fingers freed the buttons, allowing more and more of his skin to be exposed as he went further down. When he had undone them all and his shirt was only hanging off his shoulders, he let it fall to the floor and allowed you to look your fill.
Gods, he was gorgeous.
Despite being quite slender, the hard planes of muscle beneath Silco’s pale skin were evident. His chest was covered with a fine sprinkling of dark, graying hairs that turned into a pleasant trail leading down into his pants, accentuated by a delicious V-line at his hips. Your mouth watered as you took him in, the hard planes of his abdomen and defined muscles of his chest causing the liquid heat to pool in your stomach once again.
“Silco,” you couldn't help but moan as you continued to take him in. You began to squirm on the bed as he removed his pants, until finally he stood before you in just his underwear.
“Please, I want to see you. All of you,” you breathed.
Silco seemed to be transfixed by the sight of you lying naked in his bed, begging him to ravish you. It wasn’t often that he took lovers, and never had he trusted any enough to bring them to his own bed. A part of him knew it wasn’t just the Eros, it was because he felt something for you he hadn’t felt for anyone.
Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you sat up on your knees and slid your thumbs under the waistband of his briefs, silently requesting permission to remove them. When he looked down at you and gave you a single nod, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone and slid them off.
You lay back again as Silco kicked them off, and took in the sight of him naked before you.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, echoing his words from earlier. Yes, you had his cock in your mouth less than an hour ago, but seeing his entire body on display for you felt like a privilege. He was putting himself in an intimate, vulnerable position for you.
A hint of a smile tugged at Silco’s lips before he finally climbed on top of you on the bed. You looked up at him reverently and moved some strands of hair out of his face.
This - whatever this was - was more than sex to take the edge off.
You would ponder that later.
Silco began to kiss you again and lowered his body to press against yours. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as you explored his body with your hands, roaming over his biceps, shoulders, and down the hard muscles of his back.
The feeling of his warm skin against yours was nothing short of heavenly.
Detaching himself from your lips, he began to kiss down your neck and chest, his hot mouth leaving a trail of fire until he reached your breasts. His eyes bore into yours as he licked carefully over your nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently.
“Gods, Silco,” you arched into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his hair once again. He groaned in response and began to rock his hips into you. He was still rock hard and trying to get some friction, the Eros was still coursing through his veins, he needed something, anything-
Silco hadn’t noticed that he had completely ceased his attention to your breasts and instead buried his head into your chest as he ground his cock against you, moaning at the sensation.
It was your voice that gained his attention back, your soft cooing of his name that caused him to look up at you and pay attention to the next words out of your mouth.
“I need you inside of me, Silco.”
As if you needed him as much as he clearly needed you right now, this damn Eros was making him grind against you like a horny teenager.
But nonetheless, Silco came back up to your face and pressed his forehead against yours before taking his cock in his hand and positioning himself at your entrance. He looked into your eyes and you nodded with a smile, signaling for him to continue.
Silco’s eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed the tip in, causing you both to gasp in unison.
You moaned his name, one of your hands gripping his bicep and the other fisting the sheets as the blunt head of his cock entered you. Despite the Eros amplifying his most primal urges, he controlled himself so you could adjust to him and he could savour the stretch of your walls around him. Slowly, he slid in, gritting his teeth as your warm wetness engulfed his length.
“You’re so big,” you whined, and you felt him twitch inside of you in response. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments, especially not of that nature, but fuck if it didn’t make him even painfully harder than he already was.
He pushed in bit by bit and rubbed lazy circles around your clit with his thumb to try to relax you. “That’s my good girl, taking me so well,” he crooned in your ear.
When he was in as far as he could go, he dropped his head to your shoulder and tried to focus on his breathing. The Eros felt like it was trying to burn its way out of his body now, his skin was on fire every place you touched it, and he felt like he might die from the euphoric sensation of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought in his head right now.
“Perfect,” he whispered over and over into your shoulder.
You both stayed like that for a few moments so you could get used to his length, and when you felt you were ready, you began to move your hips against his.
Silco shuddered and moved so that he was hovering over you now, watching you intently as he began to thrust in and out of you. Your face was the portrait of bliss, he thought. He could listen to the little noises that escaped you forever as he fucked you.
“You like this? You like the feel of my cock inside of you?” His dirty talking in that voice of his was driving you wild, and you could only moan in response. You now had one hand splayed over his back and the other on the back of his neck as you clung to him.
“Been wanting to do this for so long,” he continued rambling, his eyes now fixating on the spot where your bodies were joined. He watched himself slip in and out of your pussy, his cock slick with your juices.
“I’ve always wanted you,” you managed to respond weakly. Silco tore his eyes away from watching himself fuck you and flicked them up to your face, which was still twisted in pleasure. “Since I first saw you, Silco, I’ve wanted you like this.”
“Why didn’t you - ah fuck,” his words were puncuated by his thrusts, which were now harder and deeper and lighting a fire in your belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think you felt the same-” you were cut off by a high pitched whimper you made when Silco thrust into you particularly deep.
“How could I not? You’re the subject of all my fantasies, darling.”
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and whimpers and Silco’s guttural groans, and the lewd sound of skin against skin. Your eyes remained locked on his own, his mysterious left eye swirling, watching you as his cock drove into you over and over again.
A wicked idea entered your mind then, and as Silco continued to pound into you, you leaned up and licked the scarred left side of his face.
“Tell me your fantasies, Silco. Tell me how you imagine me when you’re touching yourself when I’m not there,” you purred in his ear.
If Silco was ravenous before, he was now positively feral.
He growled as he pulled out of you and flipped you over so you were on your hands and knees and roughly pulled you by your hips to slot against him. He entered you again in one deep stroke, causing you to cry out in pleasure as this new angle allowed him to fit the entirety of his length inside of you. You wanted to put on a show for him, so you arched your back as much as you could and looked over your shoulder at him, your mouth forming an “O” as Silco fucked into you.
“You want to know how I imagine you, dirty girl?” His thrusts were animalistic now, he was chasing the high of his release just as he was chasing the Eros out of his body. “I imagine you sitting on my lap in my desk chair riding my cock because you just couldn’t wait any longer,” his voice was completely wrecked, you could tell he was getting closer as his words became more filthy. You were too, the coil in your lower belly tightening more and more with every word he spoke.
“I imagine taking you in the elevator before one of those damn Chem Baron meetings, and you walking into that meeting with my cum still dripping out of you.”
You moaned at that, the thought of being claimed by him so primally had you clenching around his cock as he continued to pound into you.
“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you? I feel you squeezing me, you cruel, dirty little thing.”
Silco reached around and began to furiously rub your clit. He knew you were close, he could feel your walls clenching around him and just before you snapped, he pulled out and turned you over again so you were once again underneath him, his tall frame caging you in.
“Want to watch when you come, darling,” he said, his voice softer than it had been only seconds ago. You reached around his neck to pull him closer to you and kissed him deeply.
He entered you again and it only took a few more rolls of his hips before you came undone in his arms. You arched into his body and cried out his name as electricity surged through every nerve ending in your body, and he rocked into you and held you through it all. His own thrusts became erratic as you squeezed him, and he whispered in your ear,
“Inside, I’m safe. Inside me, please,” you breathed, clutching his heated body to your own. Silco buried his face in your shoulder again and sank his teeth into your skin as he came inside you with a sharp cry, his seed filling you as he shuddered above you.
You both stayed like that for a while, desperately clutching on to each other with the only sound in the room being your heavy breathing. Silco was the first to come up for air, examining you with a clarity in his eye that hadn’t been there before.
“Are you alright?” He inquired in his usual, even timbre.
You nodded dreamily, having gone completely cockdumb and now being incapable of words.
His eyes fell from your own and landed on the angry bite mark he had left on your shoulder when he finished. He gently traced it with his finger as he spoke again.
“I shouldn’t have been so rough with you, I’m sorry if I-”
You pressed a finger to his lips to cut him off.
“It was wonderful. You are wonderful.”
A small smile tugged at Silco’s lips. You remembered the situation that had brought you to this point, with his cock now softening inside you and him watching you with a gentle expression you had never seen before.
“How are you feeling now?” You asked, your hand now gently caressing the scarred side of his face.
“Better. Almost normal, I suppose,” he replied as he pulled out of you with a small hiss and laid down beside you.
You watched Silco lying there, staring at the ceiling, and wondered for a moment if he regretted any of it.
However, your fears quickly evaporated when he allowed you to curl your body against him and lay on his chest as he pulled you closer to him. It was all too easy to allow yourself to close your eyes and be lulled into a slumber in your post-sex haze with a warm body next to you. But before sleep could claim you, you had to ask, “almost normal, you say?”
“We could both use a bath,” Silco mumbled, fatigue beginning to creep into his voice as well.
You let out a small giggle, and he kissed the crown of your head before he shifted and stood up, padding over to the attached room to run the water.
After a warm bath, a quick snack, and more kissing, you and Silco were curled up in bed once again, and you thought to yourself that nobody, not even the Topsiders or any of the other scummy Chem Barons could take this Silco, your Silco, away from you.
A week later, you saw Finn drinking at the bar in The Last Drop.
Raw, primal fury ignited in your gut and you ignored Sevika’s warnings as you stalked over to him, no doubt with murderous rage written across your face. He had a lot of fucking nerve showing up here after what he did.
The day after the incident, you and Silco had informed Sevika that Finn had drugged him but didn’t go into details for obvious reasons. Deciding it would be better to maintain the peace for the time being, Silco had ordered you and Sevika to leave him alive. For now. His time would come.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t send a message though.
Finn saw you approaching and fixed you with a knowing smirk that made you want to break both his real and ornamental golden jaws.
“Well, did you two have fun? You’re welcome by the way, it’s about time he got laid-”
Your dagger was at Finn’s throat before he could even finish his sentence.
“If you ever. Do something like that to him again. Or anyone. I will cut your throat and feed you to the rats. Understood?”
Finn held his hands up in surrender and stuttered his reply.
“Sure, I mean yeah. Won’t happen again.”
You fixed him with a warning look, lowered your blade, and began to walk away.
“Must have worked though, if you’re this protective over him.”
You turned and slashed in the blink of an eye.
Finn cried out as a red slice on his cheekbone began to ooze blood.
“Hope that doesn’t mess up your tattoo too much, asshole,” you spat. You sheathed your dagger and walked away, ignoring Sevika shaking her head as you passed her. The patrons of The Last Drop hadn’t even noticed your alternation, but you could feel eyes on you as you approached the stairs leading to the upper level.
You looked up to the second floor, and sure enough the shadowed silhouette of a man in the corner watched you as you climbed the stairs and moved towards him.
“What did I tell you about causing a scene, darling?” Silco crooned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the shadows with him.
“I needed him to know he can’t ever pull that shit on you ever again.”
Silco hummed in your ear as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “So violent on my behalf.”
“You would do the same for me.”
“No, my dear, I would do much, much worse,” he replied with a hint of amusement, but you knew he was dead serious. He would kill for you.
Putting the incident with Finn behind you, you pulled Silco in closer to you and kissed him deeply, savouring the pleased rumble in his chest as his lips met yours.
Silco, the feared crime lord of Zaun, was many things. But right now, in a shadowy corner of The Last Drop, away from prying eyes, he was your Silco, and there was nothing else he’d rather be.
How Arcane Characters Flirt
A/N: Hi, so, I know it’s been awhile. Sorry for not posting, I just haven’t had a lot of time to write between assignments and having to cope with life in general, y’know? Anyway, I hope these make up for my absence! lmao
- You’d think he’d be kinda bad at flirting but surprisingly, he’s pretty good at it
- Loves playful banter and teasing
- Lots of sass
- If you quip back at him with something witty, he just about proposes on the spot
- Gets kinda flustered when you flirt back but recovers quickly and matches your energy
- Knows how to fluster you and takes full advantage of it
-You have his undivided attention whenever you’re speaking
- Jayce and whatever he has to say can wait, he’s listening to you ramble about your favourite book right now
- Asks questions so you know he’s interested
- Does a little bit of research about your favourite things whenever he has free time so that he can better contribute to the conversation next time
- He’s a little lost but has some idea of how to flirt
- Tons upon tons of compliments
- Compliments your outfit, hair, eyes, etc.
- Talks your ear off about anything and everything
- Brags a little bit about his accomplishments to impress you
- Nothing over the top. Just casually mentions something he’s done every so often when the opportunity arises
- Makes you coffee every time you come visit the lab
- It’s become such a habit that he has it ready for you by the time you get there
- Good god
- Okay, so you’d think he’d be pretty good at flirting, right?
- W r o n g
- When he genuinely likes someone, he clams up completely
- The man is emotionally constipated and has no clue how to flirt with you
- He’ll compliment your outfit every so often but he’s kinda stiff and awkward while doing it
- Lowkey endearing tbh
- (Dw, though, he gets a lot better at it as your relationship progresses)
- Another one that will listen to you talk about anything
- You know he likes you when you’re talking about something you like and he actually takes the time to listen and takes an interest in it
- Holy shit she’s such a flirt
- Compliments and flirty jokes all the time
- So smooth about it too
- You could slip and fall off of a building and she’d make some cheesy pick up line about you falling for her after she catches you
-Gets so flustered when you flirt back
- Goes beet red
- Finds a nickname that suits you and calls you by it 24/7
- She flirts with you all the time
- Jokes and pokes fun at you a little
- VERY careful to never makes fun of anything that actually bothers you, though
-It’s all in good fun
- She finds any excuse to touch you as long as you’re good with touch
- does anything that can be played off as platonic affection
- She’ll grab your hand and just fiddle with your fingers while you’re talking or maybe lean her head on your shoulder.
- SO smooth
- Compliments out the wazoo
- Always makes a point to compliment something about you whenever you talk to her
- She’ll buy you little things every so often just because they reminded her of you
- Paints you small pictures of things she knows you like
- Always stops to talk to you whenever she spots you in the halls
arcane characters meeting their topsider soulmate !
includes ; viktor , jayce , ekko , silco ! from this request.
notes ; i apologise i’m absolutely dreadful at writing soulmate aus, so i went simple with the first words tattooed on wrist prompt :] i’m on mobile rn so cant add the read more option oopsie
; viktor !
+ poor, sweet viktor.
+ he never believed that he would find his soulmate in piltover, seeing as his roots lay in the zaunite lanes, so with time he grew to ignore the words tattooed eternally on his wrist, although occasionally he would catch himself tracing over the words, thinking: what if?
+ “not one for the spotlight?” — what was that even supposed to mean? he had questioned the words over and over in his head, but never came to a definitive conclusion. it could be anyone. was it with malicious intent? inquisitive? comedic? the man hadn’t the faintest idea.
+ you, a daughter of close friends of house talis, were given special permission to be in the stage wings for the best view of jayce’s progress day speech. you had heard jayce’s rambles about the hexcore, and all about this viktor without ever having actually met him. the pair were practically inseparable and shared a brotherly bond, but internally you wondered whether jayce was fit to take all the credit for the hexcore.
+ you often found yourself staring absentmindedly at your own words on your wrist. so simple, barely 5 words. “never have been.” you were given little to work with, so had put off the idea of finding your soulmate for a while - but there was always that little sliver of hope in your belly.
+ as the time came around, the lights shone down on jayce stood centre stage, what seemed like all of piltover erupting into a cheer as he dazzled the crowds with his charisma. in the process of applauding your friend, another figure caught your eye from the side where you were stood. scanning over him, you recognised him as jayce’s partner by his cane and leg brace. must be viktor, you thought.
+ mustering up the courage, you approached him from where he admired his friend on stage. “not one for the spotlight?” you chuckled, coming up behind him. he visibly stiffened, before turning to look at you with an almost stunned expression. he swallowed thickly, all rational thought coming to a halt. is this really happening? after all this time, his soulmate was this close to him?
+ viktor cleared his throat, turning to make eye contact with you. a half smile graced his features as he rolled up his sleeve tentatively, holding it out for you to see, and letting out a soft chuckle at your starstruck expression. “never have been.”
; jayce !
+ as an academy student, jayce had pondered over the curious ink on his wrist more often than he would like to admit. he’d spend sleepless nights running his fingers over the words, head filled with a thousand thoughts as to who they could be.
+ but alas, the duty of being a counsellor eventually took over the life of the young man. he rarely paid attention to the tattoo anymore, his suit sleeves covering it the majority of the time. only the occasional glance would be directed towards the message: “it was bound to happen at some point.”
+ working as a higher-up medic for the enforcer army, you would always steal moments away from treating the soldiers to trace your fingers over the ink on your wrist. you were well respected amongst the enforcers and the citizens of piltover, more for your stern yet caring approach to your work, but your firm heart was always made to melt upon imagining the meeting with your soulmate.
+ following the incident in the undercity, you ended up with more work on your hands than usual when none other than counsellor talis wound up in the ward, amongst various other soldiers harmed by the fight against silco’s shimmer beasts. after seeing the other enforcers off, you turned to treat jayce. he was sat with his head hanging in between his knees, facing away from you.
+ you were aware of the death of a young zaunite boy during the conflict, and could only guess that jayce was feeling the guilt from it. sighing softly, you gathered some warm water and a rag to clean up the cuts on his face. pulling up a stool, you placed your hands under his chin to tilt his head up so you could treat him better. his eyes were filled with a deep grief you had seen in many enforcers coming from conflicts with casualties.
+ “it was bound to happen at some point, counsellor.” you muttered, offering a small smile to the man. he huffed softly. “i didn’t expect it to hurt like this.”
+ you stiffened, the hold on the damp towel loosening. you had heard those words all too well repeated to yourself mindlessly before. the rag dropped into jayce’s lap, and as you both reached to grab it at the same time, he spotted the words inscribed on your wrist and faltered, realising the words you had spoken to him before were painstakingly familiar to him.
+ you didn’t need to ask to know what jayce was thinking. despite the heavy atmosphere previously, he let out a breathy laugh, taking your wrist into his hand and running his own fingers over your words, before reaching to unbutton his sleeve to show the words you had uttered to him before.
+ “well, this is a surprise.” you chuckled, a faint blush dusting your cheeks. “a pleasant one, i hope?” he responded, not letting go of your wrist. “how could i say no, counsellor?” “it’s jayce to you, now.”
; ekko !
+ our firelight king <3 im so biased help
+ similar to viktor, ekko would spend an unhealthy amount of time questioning the words written on his wrist. “does this belong to you?”, inscribed in little neat letters across his skin. as someone who endured the rough times in the lanes, the idea of a soulmate was a little light in the darkness of zaun life.
+ what ekko didn’t expect was that this soulmate was someone from topside. however, the sentence “didn’t think a piltie would dare touch one of those” left little to your imagination, and you figured it might not be best to think about those words until the time came.
+ and so, one fateful morn had the strings of fate pulling you together, although not in the ways you both might expect. having pilfered some goods from a store topside, a handful of firelights had entered into a scuffle with enforcers not far from the bridge between zaun and piltover. despite the majority coming out unscathed, scar had suffered a sharp blow to the back of his knee and thus making him struggle to walk.
+ you had always been curious of the so-called firelights. as an aspiring researcher yourself, the small creatures were fascinating to analyse - but the humans who named themselves after the insects were even more so. as you ventured out in the early morning to collect some weather data, you had stumbled across an abandoned hoverboard, which you had picked up to look into on return. not far away stood a trio of firelights by the bridge.
+ the tallest was visibly injured, being slung along by another. he had clear vastayan elements in his identity, judging by his bat-like features. interesting, you thought. the next-tallest was in the process of ushering the two, both carrying similar hoverboards to the one you had found, out of the piltover territory and across the bridge, and you heard the words “i’ll be back soon. i gotta find it.” slip.
+ signing internally, you knew that what you had discovered before also belonged to the firelight. as the other two headed off leaving him alone and pinching the bridge of his nose in thought, all rational thought flew out the window as you approached him with the hoverboard in hand.
+ glancing towards you, ekko’s eyes visibly lit up upon seeing the object in your hands. clearing your throat, you inquired “does this belong to you?”
+ ekko let out a huff of relief, moving closer to you. your humble expression and genuine interest let him know that hopefully you meant no harm. “didn’t think a piltie would dare touch one of those.” he scoffed.
+ on hearing his words your breath hitched, and you scrambled to pull your sleeve up to reveal those fateful words. “hold on, before i give this back,” you stuttered, “what does your wrist say? i mean, not that it means anything deep heh, i just— what does—“ “i figured as much.” he replied, moving to take the hoverboard from your grasp, but not without letting his fingers brush against yours ever so softly.
+ you were speechless. your stunned expression made the man chuckle as he turned, giving you a half wave. “wait! you’re just going to leave?! will i… will we meet again?” you called out to him. he looked back over his shoulder, eyes glinting mischievously.
+ “depends, how many stores are there to rob up here, piltie?”
; silco !
+ now, silco was and always has been a denier of the idea of soulmates. how could two people’s fates be intertwined so intricately through something so simple as words? it was absurd. the words on his wrist ended up being forgotten and covered by a watch silco wore. much more worth his time, according to him.
+ that was, until his beloved jinx had strayed too far away from the pack on a mission topside and ended up injured and alone on the streets of piltover.
+ you had always sympathised with the people from the undercity. despite coming from a privileged background, a top-tier education, and benefitting from the bountiful lifestyle of piltover, you were always unconventionally generous to those from the undercity, and you firmly believed that they were as worth as much as someone from topside. alas, you fully understood the hatred that zaunites harboured towards topsiders, and thus accepted that your soulmate could only be from piltover.
+ the day you stumbled upon the blue-haired girl bleeding in a side alley, you immediately recognised her as a citizen of zaun. the gaunt features and sickly pallor were a telltale sign. you took jinx back to your home on the outskirts of piltover, near the bridge to the undercity. having explained to her that no, you weren’t going to feed her to the enforcers and yes, you were fully prepared to face silco’s wrath lest you hurt her, she finally allowed you to patch her wounds.
+ the girl insisted that you take her back across the bridge, claiming that she had to give you proper thanks for helping her. you escorted her back over as promised, two hooded figures sauntering towards the undercity, before jinx insisted that she introduce you to a friend. “hold on, i gotta go get someone real quick. he’s gonna love ya! don’t go disappearin’ on me now, piltie! just wait a couple mins!”
+ after a short wait she returned, dragging a man along with her. she introduced you as “the lady who patched me all up n protected her from the bastard enforcers”,and you discovered the man with her was named silco. he nodded respectfully at you, a sign of gratitude, before clearing his throat. “miss, you have zaun’s deepest thanks.” he said, voice smooth as wine. “it was no trouble at all, really.” you replied as silco turned, before your neutral expression faltered, a look of shock overtaking it. it couldn’t possibly be—
+ “wait! could you…” your voice trailed off, catching the man off guard, the corners of his lips turning up. “could you… show me your wrist, please?” you asked. he scoffed quietly, and you didn’t miss the subtle eye roll. “if you were truly thankful, silco.”
+ taken aback by your newfound confidence, he obliged by rolling up his sleeve, revealing the words you had first spoken to him. now it was his turn to be shocked, and you didn’t miss the glint in his untainted eye. silco offered you his hand, before turning to head back into the depths of the undercity. “how about we discuss this… phenomenon in a more private environment, hmm?”
— arcane requests are open! <3
Arcane - Little Flower
Silco x female!reader
Warning: SMUT! 18+
Oral recieving/ PiV Sex / Some Fingerplay/ Grinding/ Inexperienced reader/ Soft Dom Silco / Soft Dirty Talk/ Dubious Consent
I recently finished watching Arcane... so anyway, I started simping and I'm making it your problem :)
As for my Star Wars content followers- don't worry, there is more coming. I actually got three WIP's in the making, one with clone wars Rex, one with Tech and one with Crosshair, and there was an idea for something with Hunter but I haven't started that one yet. I don't know wich one will be finished first, that depends on my mood and motivation.
Playing on repeat while writing this: Going Down
Power Of Love
PS: reblogging and commenting is always welcome.
Little Flower Part 2 - Safe And Sound
Little Flower Part 3 - Cupidos (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 4 - Before You Killed Me (Violence 18+)
Little Flower Part 5 - Carried By Our Desolation (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 6 - The Morning After (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 7 - Love And War (Smut 18+
Little Flower Part 8 - Who We Really Are (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 9 - What We Deserve
Little Flower Part 10 - Liar
LittleFlower part 11 - Curiosity Killed The Cat
Little Flower Part 12 - Blood Bath (18+ Violence)
Little Flower Part 13 - Aftermath (18+ Smut)
Little Flower Part 14 - Backlash
Little Flower Part 15.1 - The Punishment Of Our Sins
Little Flower Part 15.2 - The Punishment Of Our Sins (18+)
Little Flower Part 16 - South Of Heaven
Little Flower Part 17 - A Turn Of Events (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 18 - A Bond Without A Future
Little Flower Part 19 - Tick Tock (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 20 - Wedding Night (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 21 - Back In Town
Little Flower Part 22 - Stressed Out (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 23 - Calm Moments
Little Flower Part 24 - Smoke And Fire (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 25 - Filth (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 26 - Sweet Comfort Of Love
Little Flower Part 27 - Stupid Ideas
Little Flower Part 28 - To Raise A Hand
Little Flower Part 29 - Stand Your Ground
Little Flower Part 30 - Never Again
Little Flower Part 31 - Everything You Want (Smut 18+)
Little Flower Part 32 - A Long Night (Smut 18 +)
Little Flower Part 33 - Influence
Little Flower Part 34 - Revelations
Little Flower Part 35 - The Weight Of A Decision
Arcane - Little Flower
So much potential had always been seen in you, at least your family had. And yet here you were, working at the front desk of a brothel. So much for potential. Things always went differently in Zaun, if you were too meek you didn't get very far. And unfortunately, you were one of those rather meek people.
It was only your second day and you were already fed up with this job, but you had to live on something. After two days you had already seen a lot of different customers and heard some noises that you would have liked to block out. But at least you were not one of the sex workers, that would be the last thing you wanted to do. Considering that you were still a virgin, that would also be completely inappropriate, at least in your opinion. Even if your boss saw it differently and had initially tried to persuade you to become one of the easy girls.
You reckoned as always with everything, but not with your next customer.
When he entered the brothel, his presence filled the entire building. A slim, tall man with dark hair combed back, a few gray strands, well dressed, sublime step. The left half of his aristocratic, prominent face was haggard with scars, his left eye mutated. The narrow nose in profile reminded of an eagle.
He moved directly toward you. You knew this man, had heard his name many times. Silco. A man who was feared in Zaun, just as he was respected. He didn't have nicknames like "The Eye of Zaun" and "The Industrialist" for nothing. This city was more or less his. He had a reputation for being ruthless and unscrupulous. He ruled over everything he owned with a hard hand and questionable ways and means. It was better not to mess with Silco.
He was outrageously attractive in his own way, at least that's how you looked at him.
Your heart beat up to your neck when he stopped in front of your counter, usually you had to greet people accordingly, but when he looked down at you, your voice got stuck in your throat.
Silco knew what effect he had on the people he met.
He smiled and under his gaze you seemed to get smaller and smaller.
"How can I be of service?" you finally asked, almost so quietly that he could barely hear you.
He looked you up and down, leaned a little further over the counter, closer to you and said, "You're awfully quiet, little flower."
His voice was smooth and dark, vibrating through your senses.
"What can I do for you?" you said a little louder this time.
He chuckled, "Unfortunately, I'm not here for pleasure, I need to have a conversation with your boss. Do you know where I can find her?"
You gulped and answered, "In her office," and pointed in the relevant direction.
One of his large, slender hands approached your face. He was wearing black leather gloves, one of his gloved fingers running along your right cheek.
"Pretty thing," he murmured, finally making his way to the office door with a wink in your direction.
Your mouth was dry and your heart was racing. It couldn't possibly be good when Silco paid you such attention.
Silco faced the madam, a middle-aged lady with too much makeup, too much confidence and too little decency. At least if you asked him.
"I assure you, we will take care of the incident that happened with your subordinate," madam Celest promised with a flutter of her fake eyelashes.
"Hmm" grumbled Silco "That would be better for you, otherwise I'll leave the brothel in other, more capable hands".
"That won't be necessary" said the madam hastily.
He leaned back in his chair to glance through the ajar door and caught a glimpse of you standing behind the counter, apparently going through some paper. When he turned back to the madam, there was a shallow smile on his features.
"There is something, something you could use to pay off your debt to me".
The madam listened up, "Oh yeah?"
"Yes. The girl outside at the front desk. I want her."
The madam blinked and tilted her head to the side, "She's not my property, she just works here. Besides that, she's inexperienced, she's not one of my girls, she just works at the counter"
Silco sighed wearily, "I don't care. I want her. Make sure she comes to the club and works for me, then we are even"
"I'll talk to her, but I can't promise anything."
Silco's eyes narrowed as he said "You better make an effort".
After two days in the brothel, you already had another job. The madam had told you what Silco wanted from you and suggested to accept the offer. One never rejected his offers, that never ended well. But even if one accepted it, not necessarily something good came out of it.
You had spent the last few days bringing him food and drinks, his cigars or mail that was left for him at the club. Otherwise you sat in your room in the same building where your bed was and the few belongings you owned. Silco paid well, but you could hardly leave the building because he had you watched all the time. In the free time you had for yourself, at least one of his goons followed you everywhere you went. They were probably there to make sure you didn't run away.
Carrying a tray of fresh fruit, an outrageously expensive luxury in Zaun, you walked into his office just as one of his goons left the room and locked the door behind you. Uncertainly, you glanced at the sprawling desk and the large, noble chair behind it in which Silco sat. He had a cigar in the corner of his mouth. The smoke rose and the entire room smelled of it, of the cigar and his aftershave. A strangely intoxicating mix.
Your heart beat faster, as it always did when you entered his office, or when he entered a room you were in.
Suddenly he looked up, he smiled when he saw you. Trying with all your might to suppress the trembling in your hands, you approached the table and placed the tray on it.
"Thank you, little flower"
That's what he often called you, little flower.
When you were about to leave again, Silco put out his cigar in the big heavy ashtray on his desk and he stopped you from leaving.
"Wait. Come here," he said, beckoning you to him with two fingers.
You approached the table again, but that wasn't enough for him, he waved you even closer. When you got closer but still not close enough, he impatiently grabbed one of your hands and pulled you towards him. He was still sitting in his chair and looking up at you. The sea green of his normal eye shimmered in the setting sun that shone through the large window behind him.
"Don't be shy," he said teasingly, as you flinched because his knee touched your leg.
“What can I do for you?“, you asked nervously.
"Hmm, you could let me do something for you, because there's something I'd be hungry for."
Your heart leapt into your throat at his words.
Instead of an answer, the long, slender fingers of his large hand stroked along your leg, ever upward, under the hem of your skirt, and upward still. You shivered as his fingers ghosted over the delicate fabric of your panties, just above your sex.
"You're really glowing between your legs, this will probably be a warm meal for me," he quipped with a smirk.
„S-Sir?“, you stuttert feeling heat rising in your face and ears.
Again instead of an answer, he acted. His fingertips feel the edge of your panties and slipped under the fine fabric. Gently his long fingers slid through your folds and at the same moment you felt yourself getting wet, fluids pooling out of you.
You did not dare to say anything or withdraw. Partly out of fear, but also because his touch felt delightful, even if you didn't want to admit it.
When he withdrew his fingers you had to suppress a disappointed sigh. But when you saw him guide his fingers covered with your slick to his lips and lick them, a small whimper escaped you.
"Hmm, my little flower is a honey pot," he murmured delightedly.
Your gaze wandered almost automatically to his crotch and you saw the bulge in his pants, it was practically impossible to miss and gave an idea that he was far better equipped than you had assumed.
With a jerk he suddenly pulled you onto his lap, facing him, your legs left and right over his. One of his hands went to your back, went down to your bottom and gripped into the tender flesh. You inhaled sharply and suppressed a small, startled cry.
His free hand went to your neck and urged your head down towards his. He sniffed your neck and sighed devotedly.
"You smell fantastic Y / N, little flower, so gorgeous," he said in a hoarse voice.
The hand on your bottom pressed you even closer, closer to his body, you could feel his hard erection through the fabric of his pants and your panties on your femininity.
He let out a low, heated growl as you tried to move on his lap.
"Where are you going?" He asked, amused.
"I ... nowhere"
Silco began to kiss your neck and a low whimper came over your lips. His hot breath wandered up your throat to your ear where he whispered: "You don't want to get away from me, do you?"
That was neither a lie nor the truth. He attracted you magnetically and at the same time you were afraid of him, of what people said about him.
"Good, because I still have a lot to do with you, my beautiful," he cooed with a smile.
He arched his hips slightly, pressing his lap into yours and nibbling on your delicate earlobe at the same time.
“Hmmm”, you heard him hum with satisfaction, “Your smell, the warmth of your body, the sweet little honey pot between your legs, you are perfect, little flower. A perfect bloom grown in all the junk around us. And I found you, now you are mine. "
You swallowed and said softly: "Please don't hurt me"
Silco stopped moving, his hand on your neck, pressing your head so he could look you in the face.
"What did you just say?" He asked.
Your eyes darted back and forth wildly, looking for an escape.
"Look at me, stop looking so nervously from one corner to the other," he demanded gently but firmly.
You followed his request very nervously.
"Tell me, Y / N, has any of what I've done so far been painful?"
"N-No," you answered him in a very low voice.
Still calm and gentle, he asked, “No? Then why do you assume that I intend to hurt you? "
“People say things about you. They say ... that you are dangerous and angry and that you hurt people "
Silco nodded thoughtfully, then smiled and said: “Yes, I have a certain reputation. But you are not people. You are my little flower "
You nodded slowly whereupon he smiled in satisfaction.
He turned the chair and you towards the table, grabbed your hips with both hands and lifted you onto the table. He was much stronger than he looked.
His fingers were nimble, slipping under your skirt and pulling down your panties, brushing them over your ankles and off your body. He didn't toss them carelessly to the side as you had expected, but laid them on the table beside you. Finally, he pushed up the fabric of your skirt, reached for your trembling thighs and spread them.
The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he saw you spread out before him like a buffet. He leaned forward in his chair, his face hovering so close over your pussy that you could feel his hot breath on your moist folds. A soft whimper came from your mouth.
He took a deep breath and chuckled, "Incredibly intoxicating, I'm going to lick your little honey pot dry until you forget your own name, little flower."
Your pussy twitched at his words, heat flowed to your center and the tickle of his breath made your bud swell with desire.
The fingers of his right hand ran gently, almost delicately through your folds, one fingertip caressing your entrance, collecting your juices and sliding upward to your pulsing pearl. As he drew small circles on your clit, you were dripping wet and a high pitched moan came from your throat. It never felt this good when you touched yourself, this was something completely different, much more intense.
Silco gently asked you to lean back with your back on his table and you complied expectantly.
His finger continued to massage your sensitive bud as his tongue ran over your folds. Surprised by the sensation, your thighs twitched. His tongue swirled hot, strong and deft through your folds, to your entrance and dipped inside you.
You couldn't help it, the words coming hoarsely from your mouth, "Oh God!"
He chuckled into your folds, the vibration almost sending you over the edge.
Your toes curled, your thighs trembled with tension, your whole abdomen seemed filled with liquid heat. He licked you out, with intense movements of his tongue, humming over and over again with excitement and satisfaction, chasing sweet vibration into your sex.
In a groan it came from your lips, "Please! S-Silco I'm gonna...."
He hummed deep and hungry this time.
"Yes" he mumbled into your folds "Come for me, let go, I'll catch you".
The knot loosened, tingling hot waves vibrated through your pussy and you tightened around his tongue.
Silco moaned and worked you even further, working through your high, gently stroking your hips with his free hand.
Eventually he let go of you so he wouldn't overstimulate you, though he couldn't resist the naughty little kiss on your still swollen pearl. He wiped his mouth and grinned at you as you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him.
Still nervous and breathing heavily from your climax, you smiled shyly at him.
"So, did that hurt?" he asked teasingly, getting up from his chair.
You shook your head and said almost in a whisper, "No. That was nice."
He undid the belt of his pants and at the sight of him unwrapping his length, nervousness crept up in you again. Heavy and girthy, his veiny cock stood out from his body, the blunt tip slightly swollen. He saw the look on your face and tilted his head slightly to the side.
"What's wrong? A little above average I know, but I promise you I'm gentle".
Your mouth opened and you shyly told him softly, "I've never done this before."
"What?" he asked with a puzzled blink "Really never?"
You nodded, shying away from his scrutinizing gaze.
"Now I understand why you're so nervous all the time, you had no idea what to expect did you? Poor thing, must have been scared, but there's no need to be, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm going to make you feel good", he cooed.
He gently pulled you off the table onto your wobbly legs and held you as you almost buckled.
Silco led you to another door in his office and opened it. Behind it was a bedroom with a huge bed with black silk sheets. The rest of the room automatically blanked out of your mind because you knew this bed was the target and your thoughts swirled solely around it.
He began to undress you until you finally stood naked in front of him, his gaze wandering up and down your body.
" Delicious! On the bed with you, little flower".
You complied with his request and climbed onto the bed, turning to face him and watching as he undressed as well. The torso first, out of the fancy coat of the fine vest and the red dress shirt.
Yes he was slim, but under his pale skin hard muscles stood out, a body stronger than it appeared at first sight. A few fine hairs on his chest, already graying, gathered in a line leading down into his pants, accentuated by the appetizing V line of his hips.
At the sight, your mouth watered. Torn between sexual desire and a touch of fear, you watched as he slipped off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear. Again your eyes fell on his privates, so proud, veiny and heavy. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, towards him, and at the same time your nerves fluttered with nervousness.
He smiled at you, in his own haunting way that got under your skin and made you shiver.
Silco climbed up onto the bed, over you, gently but firmly spreading your legs with his, lying down on top of you and pressing his hard shaft against your wet folds. His arms supported most of his weight as he gently began to roll his hips, rubbing his length over your sex and creating glorious friction on your pearl.
With an excited sigh, you wrapped your legs around his body almost automatically and began to move with him. You realized that was far from all, he wasn't even inside you yet and you longed to feel him inside you as much as you were afraid of it. But so far he had been gentle and considerate, so you were nowhere near as scared as you had expected.
There you were, lying naked in Silco's bed beneath him, expecting him to deflower you at any moment. Something you never would have thought would happen just a few days ago. At least not with Silco.
His face came closer and when his lips gently touched yours, your eyes closed with a soft sigh. He was warm and softer than you had expected, this mouth that often gave such harsh words speech, such grim commands- was warm and gentle. His tongue slid over your lower lip, asking for entrance and you granted it only too gladly. As his tongue slid into your mouth and playfully explored yours, you could taste yourself in his mouth, a strange, exciting sensation.
As he increased the pressure of his hips in your lap, you moaned into the kiss and his lips twisted into a smile.
Silco slowly detached himself from your lips and spoke softly in a voice like hot dark chocolate, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Nervously you licked your lips. Yes you wanted it, you wanted to feel more of him, wanted to belong to him, every fiber of your body craved it even if a part of you still trembled gently at the thought. You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him.
"Tell me with your words, little flower," he demanded, cooing.
"I want this, I want you, Silco."
His smile sent shivers through your expectant body.
"Very well, then you shall have what you desire".
He pulled his hips back a bit to line up at your entrance. The tip of his cock hit the folds at your entrance, parting them slowly and gently. You gasped as he slowly entered you, at first with just the tip. As expected, he not only looked massive but felt so as well. Slowly he pushed further, you felt the stretch as he slowly filled you, then a slight resistance and a small sharp pain that made you wince against your will.
You held your breath, nervous and unsure.
Silco stopped, bent down to you without advancing any further, kissed your shoulder and whispered: "Keep breathing, little flower, you don't have to be afraid, this little pain was all the discomfort you will feel, I promise".
You breathed a sigh of relief, but stuttering, irregular. His lips moved to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses on your heated skin, trying to soothe you.
Silco placed a kiss under your ear and whispered, "My beautiful little flower, relax, breathe in and out, breathe with me."
His gentle encouragement helped you regain your composure, his warm lips on your skin, began to rekindle the tingling in your core. As Silco felt you gradually relax under him, he pushed deeper into you.
Your fingers clawed into his shoulders as you felt him filling you, filling your cleft to the hilt, stretching you. The small bush of curly, partly graying hair at the base of his shaft tickled your pearl.
A curse escaped your lips and he chuckled.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly.
"Yeah... it's just so... so much"
With a smile he cocked an eybrow at you, asking, "Too much? Do you want me to stop?"
"No!" you said hastily, wrapping your legs tighter around him and rolling your hips.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a promising whisper.
„Yes! P-please, more...need more“
Silco began to move, pulling his hips back, slowly, and then forward again, into you. The feeling was indescribable. He kept moving, paying close attention to your every reaction. He changed the angle, shifted his weight, until he could see in your face that he was hitting just the right spot in your wet, hot cleft.
"Oh my love, you're so tight and hot and wet, just for me," he uttered hoarsely, and you saw his good eye darken with desire.
But he held back, taking you with gentle thrusts, giving you time.
It wasn't long, however, before your fingers dug into his buttocks, urging him to give you more, harder and faster. He emitted a surprised sound, but immediately complied with your wordless request.
Wet sounds filled the room, mixed with the sound of naked skin meeting naked skin. A sensual and sinful sound.
Heat flowed into your pussy, your body quivering with each of his thrusts. His lips and teeth caressed your neck, greedy yet gentle, leaving marks on your skin as he took you greedier and greedier, his breath becoming heavier and faster.
Sweat covered both your skin.
"S-Silco," it came harshly from your lips, "more, please, f-faster..."
With a growl that came deep from his chest, he granted your wish, taking you faster, harder. Whimpers and high pitched moans came rushing out of your mouth, your fingers clawing over his back, his shoulders in helpless horniness as his cock buried deep inside you, moved inside you. His tip kept hitting that one spot that made you see stars and sent hot waves through your body.
One particularly intense thrust made you yelp, "hnngnaaah!.... close, I'm c-close!"
"Good girl, cum for me, cum on my cock!" he forced out through clenched teeth.
The sound that came from your mouth as the knot burst was almost a scream. Your walls tightened around his length, your thighs quivering tensely as a tingling, hot wave followed by many smaller waves like an echo, coursed through your abdomen, radiating heat with a tickle into all your limbs.
Silco growled again as he felt your cleft tighten, your climax racing over you. His thrusts became erratic.
"Where... where do you want me...?"
"Inside me!" you hastily interrupted him, feeling that he could barely hold it in.
Almost at the same moment he let go, his cock pulsing inside you, his seed flowing hotly into your cleft, and for a moment you felt even fuller than before.
With an extended sigh, his thrusts became slower and slower until he finally stopped, breathing heavily. He licked his lips and looked into your sweaty face.
"That was..." your lips twisted into a wide smile as you saw the look of anticipation on his face "Indescribably beautiful."
With a satisfied smile he said in a raspy voice "I don't think I can ever get enough of you. I can't wait to show you more".
He kissed you gently as his shaft slowly softened inside you.
Holding you to his lips, he whispered questioningly, "Would you like to spend the night here, little flower?"
A tender yet joyful, "Yes," was your answer.
Again he showed that smile, that one that he seemed to show only for you, that filled your heart with warmth and your belly with butterflies.
“what endearments am i allowed?” for silco???
chp.3 | HOBBYISTS & FINER THINGS ; silco / reader
summary: you catch him on a bad night at the last drop. a lilac drink is had, plans are made.
word count: 2.7k
pairing: silco / f!reader
a/n: ah yes. more pining and another gif by @aestheticsicrushonfrom this set here! this fic is now up on ao3, as well. to the few of you who saw this chapter drop there first... no you didn’t shh
< previous chapter | read me on ao3
The Last Drop is busy.
It is a Saturday night; you knew that when you agreed to this meeting with the other Madams, you were agreeing to more of a show of power than anything. You were important now, more important than before, and that meant rubbing elbows with Zaun's elite to keep the peace.
It meant... god, what had Sevika called it?
The pack that moves with you is made up of sex workers who have climbed the ladder, who have clawed their way to the top. They're experienced leaders in this vein of undercity's business.
Though you've lived this sort of life long enough, you still have trouble settling on the fact you're one of them now. After all, you were eighteen when you'd first met Babette — now, a decade and some odd years later, she was still a fixture along the mantle of role models you kept near and dear.
You stick to the back of the group with the yordle in question.
On approach, the long line to get into The Last Drop is scoffed at.
One of the older women, a matriarch among the out-workers, only gives the bouncers a look that grants the gaggle entry. Her hair is piled higher than her drawn-on brows. She is crested in a coat with deep, purple feathers, and slipped into a pink dress that begs to cling to her youth. Her name is Sygyn.
You quite like her.
The doors open, and a sudden wash of nervousness swallows you whole.
It's hot and humid inside. The bass is the sort that rattles your ribs, the sort that you feel deep in your heart. Immediately, the saccharine sweet smell of shimmer begs to cling to your skin. The lights are dim, catalyzed by the flash and bow of strobes, and the pulse of the bar's sound system. All in all, a sea of bodies clutters the bottom floor — limbs tangled with limbs, and heavy-poured drinks on tongue and cheek.
You catch eyes following you all — and for the first time since Yeleni left you The Lilac Lounge, you let yourself bask in the intoxicating buzz of pride.
You hold your chin a little higher when a bouncer offers to take your coat with a love-sick look.
Now, bare shoulders and back are bore for all to see. This dress — be it old and well-loved — is long, almost kissing the ground as you follow the experience gaggle of Madams towards the staircase winding up the mezzanine. The high collar allows for a facade of modesty. The truth is that the silken material, stamped with intricate patterning mimicking some of Piltover's most popular textile artists' work, clings to your figure in a way that makes you feel as though you have earned your place amongst Zaun's elite.
(It had taken a bit of goading to get you into it, honestly.
...It's just been a bit.)
You can hardly think; the bass and the lights are making your head swim. As you follow the eccentric collection of undercity leaders through the bar's dance floor, roll your shoulders back and remember to tighten up your posture. You're important. Powerful.
He hadn't been expecting to see you tonight.
No, no. Tonight was... Tonight was full of mishaps. Full of correctional action. Full of shimmer shipments gone missing and three pieces of gutter trash responsible. He’d forgone his tie an hour ago, left it with his composure in his office before going with Sevika and a handful of others to the docks to handle this messy business.
Heads held under until truths spilled out. Punches thrown and horrific threats echoing across the still, midnight harbor.
FIND IT. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT.
His knuckles are split on each hand.
In all fairness, it wasn't as if you hadn't been on his mind — to that point, there's one of those lovely, expensive cigars you'd gifted him tucked behind his ear.
He's been considering another ride down to The Lilac Lounge; but, to heed Sevika's warnings, he knew people were growing curious.
The streets talk.
You need only listen.
The yearning that he's been mindfully smothering worsens when, with what was originally an authoritatively irritated sweep of the main floor, his heavy-lidded eyes land directly on you. A pale, sea green eye grows wide in a sudden flash of surprise.
It's gone in a flash.
The feeling remains.
It's as if he's been socked in the chest. Silco, from his spot on the balcony's railing, manages to level his breath. He rolls his jaw. Instinctively, his fingers tighten around the crystal of his whiskey tumbler as he tosses another swig back. His exhaustion ebbs, then. He pushes a bruised hand through his disheveled hair and leans forward on the railing. A long streak of grey hangs in his face.
Something, at that moment, tells you to look up.
As you lift your eyes to the upper mezzanine, you blink heavy lashes in the swing of a purple-hued light. You take another step, face cast up into the light, and suddenly you see him.
That same wave of nervousness is back.
It crawls up your spine. Nearly roots you in your spot then and there.
Your gazes connect. It’s only for a second, but you swear the whole of the universe slows down just long enough for you to get a good look at him.
Sharp in every manner of the word.
People swim around you both blissfully ignorant of the shared hitch of breaths between two souls. All while The Last Drop spin feverishly on a head, tipping into the hedonistic beginnings of a long night. In the lights, in the haze of shimmer-shined kisses.
You hold his gaze long enough to know he’s seen you, and then the room kicks back into it’s full-tilt swing.
Every step up the catwalk has your heart catching.
You’re rather ceremoniously herded to a table on the upper mezzanine that sits neatly in a deep-red booth. You hold the hem of your dress in your hand, stepping up and settling in nicely beside Babette. The leather is cold against your lower back. Drinks are brought round nearly immediately, and you note the usual of Yeleni is slid your way by the waiter.
“To our newest addition.”
The tinkering of glasses rises above the smiles and laughter of the gaggle of Madams — you offer up your best smile at Sygyn’s call to honor. The weight of the sleek glass has you taking pause. Your fingers, donned with sheer black gloves that crawl up your arms and settle well past your elbows, grip the glass tightly. In a way, Yeleni’s legacy sits in your hands. In the form of some stupidly ironic cocktail.
You pluck the garnish out and drop it behind your ear with a deep inhale.
Then, you revive the smile on your face and take a delicate sip as the Madams descend into their conversation.
All the while, you’re painfully aware Silco is lingering somewhere just beyond your shoulder — or maybe he’s gone, slipped away to tend to business far more important than your appearance at his establishment. The girlish part of you wants to look back, to cast long lashes over your shoulder and seek him out amongst the crowd. You want to find him staring still, maybe posed back against the railing. You want to see longing. Yearning. Desperate reciprocation of the youthful tug he has on your heartstrings.
You know better.
People will talk.
They always do, though — and maybe this sort of entanglement doesn’t need to be as precarious as Babette had threatened. Maybe it won’t be a bad business venture; at the very least, perhaps it would be nice break from...
All of this. Madams and courtesans and brothels and dinner and board and paperwork and paystubs and —
God, this drink is atrocious.
Of course, Yeleni would have loved it... Typical. Eugh.
A pang of sadness rushes through you — as rare as they are. You exhale quietly and cast another look at the drink.
Fine. Fine, fine. Another sip.
“Ah! If it isn’t the man himself!”
You almost choke on your sentimentally indignant commitment to honoring Yeleni when Sygyn lifts her hands and calls out to someone over your shoulder.
You don’t have to look to know it’s Silco.
You lean forward, drink held out, and snatch a napkin to smother your gasp into. The neon green napkin is brandished with the bar’s name — now, it’s smeared with a dash of your dark lip stain. Beside you, Babette serves you an incredulous look.
This little meeting of the Madams came about every few months.
He knew the importance of saying hello at the very least.
Even when Sevika had rolled her eyes at his disembarkment from her side. She knew why he was really venturing over to the dangerous gaggle. You couldn’t pay her to wander over. No, no. Those Madams will pick your bones if you aren’t careful. Powerful people. Enchanting people.
And yet, you. Silco likes you.
Silco likes you enough to bear the burden of small talk.
“I apologize for interrupting,” comes a low rasp that’s punctuated with politeness, “I was told that the most beautiful souls in Zaun had made their way to my establishment. I simply had to see for myself.”
The charming jest earns him a round of coy laughter from the gaggle at the table. Some of it is polite, some of it is enamored. Either way, Silco is younger than most of the Madams at the table — to them, he’s a boyish flirt. A man in a position of power, still, but... Now, at this moment, he’s playful. Good-natured.
You turn slowly, turning your cheek over your shoulder.
Immediately, his eyes meet yours.
Framed by painted eyes and long lashes, he swears the look is enough to undo him then and there.
His attention is rooted on you.
Babette shoves her nose in her drink at the dawning realization that — lights alive. This is worse than she thought. She’s never seen Silco like this. Not in all the years she’s known him. Before and after Vander.
“I trust Yeleni’s order was to your liking, Madame?”
His tone is chaste. His hands are behind his back. The pet name riles a few lingering glances to your rigid posture.
You try not to stare at his usual lack of polish. Tonight, Silco seems almost bare without his tie and vest. Only his overcoat and usual burgundy dress shirt remain. His slacks lack their usual starched seam. There’s mud on his boots. Boots. Not the delicately gilded wing-tipped shoes he’s usually worn.
No, it seems you’ve caught him off-guard.
His throat bobs as you drag your eyes back up to his face.
You lean your elbows on the table, bracing the drink in both hands.
“It’s no sherry,” you say slowly, lifting a brow, “But Yeleni and I differ on many things. That’s the beauty in it. Differences shared.”
There’s an appreciative hum across the table.
You hold his gaze.
There’s a shift there, something like genuine longing. Tired, exhausted, burnt-out longing — and it only lasts half a second before it’s gone. The pinch in his brow smooths out, and his posture settles.
Suddenly, Silco is clearing his throat. The request is low.
“May I steal a moment of your time?”
He offers you a hand.
Your heart catches — and when you seek permission you’re waved on by a handful of Madams who meet Silco’s request with a chaperone-like assessment. Babette narrows her eyes, and you offer her an apologetic look as you gather your drink and your dress.
You take Silco’s hand.
You stand, level the iridescent lavender martini, and find a hand falling flat to the bare small of your back.
The Kingpin of Zaun leans, gesturing for you to lead the way.
It’s an excuse to touch you.
Your skin is as soft as he’d imagined.
You welcome it, turning to catch his eyes. Your faces are close, then, and you can smell the cigar tucked neatly into the lapel of his overcoat. It’s then that you see his momentary hesitation at the closeness. Once more, another hitched breath is shared between two souls while the whole of the bar swims on.
You move towards the bar.
When you settle at the end, he finds a spot beside you.
His bruised knuckles rap on the white-illuminated, sleek counter. It makes his face look sharper. The bartender procures a whiskey in a flash; it’s slid his way with ease.
You narrow in on the purple and yellow that paints his skin every shade of bruised.
He lifts a brow coolly as he sips his whiskey. "What?"
You speak as you lift your own drink.
“I caught you on a bad night.”
Less a question, more a statement. Silco rolls his jaw once more and sets the glass down gently. He shifts in his boots and moves to brace one elbow on the bar counter.
“It was simply business.”
Then, Silco watches you peel off one glove. Without a word, you lean around him to snatch a napkin and unceremoniously reach into his whiskey. You steal the two cubes, bundle them in the little neon favor, and gesture for him to pass his hands over. The Kingpin watches the way you drop a finger easily into your mouth, lapping at the access whiskey that dares to run down your wrist.
His lips are parted.
He files the visage before him away.
His gaze falls when he finally offers up his bad hand. The same leaned on the counter. Two of the knuckles are swollen. Silco grits his jaw when you tenderly place the ice atop them.
“I didn’t steal you away so you could lick my wounds—”
There’s a flash of mischief at his words. Silco immediately regrets his word choice.
You’re smirking. “Careful.”
He scoffs in response.
“Why did you, then?” you ask, lifting the ice. You frown and pass a thumb over the small split in the skin there. Silco winces minutely, “Steal me away, I mean. To save me from the wolves?”
“To tell you that you look beautiful.”
You almost choke.
Immediately, your eyes flash to him. The compliment settles nicely along your cheeks. You shift in your seat and try to quell the startled kick of your heart. You cross your legs and ignore the way your dress splits and settles nicely along the curve of your outer thigh. Silco doesn’t ignore it. In fact, he’s sure the sight will be burned into his memory for as long as he lives.
“Careful,” you say again, shifting your eyes to the faces of the Madams who are watching keenly. You do not lift your face. Instead, you focus on your posture.
“Every soul in here is thinking it,” comes the slow reply of the man before you, “You’re breathtaking.”
You busy your bashfulness with his other hand. A gentle pat of the napkin steals his attention.
“You’re being generous with your endearments tonight,” you mumble.
“Is that a problem?”
“...I’m not sure,” you say, syllables slow and punctuated, “Is it?”
Ah. The back and forth. The uncertainty. The weight.
Silco tilts his head. He watches you. He speaks, finally, after a long trace of your features with his good eye. The expression there is brimming with affection, you find, when you look up. You lashes flicker.
“What endearments would you allow me, then?” he asks honestly.
You sit up and roll your neck. Your earrings glimmer in the light, dangling by your throat. Silco watches the movement reverently.
It’s whispered with velvet-laden confidence. In truth, you aren’t completely sure where it came from. Perhaps it’s the prospect of him touching you again.
Silco swallows tightly.
He shifts, boots drawing him closer.
A hand settles once more along your back; his time, his knuckles run the length of your spine in an endearing motion. It doesn’t burn. No, it stokes a different sort of flame in the pit of your stomach.
“Perhaps, dinner?” he asks quietly, “And we can discuss... endearments?”
You can hardly breathe.
Painted lips part. You nod. Silco hangs onto the sight.
Then, as he has many times before, he pulls away.
“Friday evening,” you say suddenly as he gathers up his whiskey and downs the rest, “I’m free.”
Silco stills. And then he smirks.
“Then Friday it is.”
Silco x Fem!Reader- NSFW! | MDNI
Warnings: Manhandling, Pretty rough sex, knives, BAMF reader, Fluffy at the End Though :)
I'm not sure what happened but I started this as a short project and then it turned into 5.8k words. I couldn't tell you what went wrong and this will happen again.
This fic was inspired by this amazing and sexy artwork by @wildragon
Link to artwork!
He’s found you.
You know it the second he prowls past the door of the frigid room you huddle inside, smoke trailing down the hallway from the tip of his cigar, the smell of it wrapping you in a taunting familiarity. He’s prolonging it, the search, pulling your nerves taut until you vibrate with a dreadful anticipation.
He never misses. Never has. Never latches his bloodhound nose onto a scent and loses his way. He knows you’re in here, tucked back into the shadows.
But your senses are keen, too, and the cigar stench hasn’t faded quite so quickly as you would have wanted.
So, this was it, you think to yourself. The finale.
You know he’s out there, lying in wait. And he knows you know.
You rise, wincing when your knees crack from the prolonged position. No sound from outside, even to your finely tuned ears. Not so much as a breath, no fabric rustling from a position adjustment. Light-footed, you creep your way forward, walking your fingers across the hilt of the knife in your belt, trailing them over the jagged embedded gemstones, worn from his touch and yours.
It was about time you give it back.
Your aim is precise, a sharp whistle puncturing the air from the sheer speed of the weapon as it crosses the doors threshold and embeds into the wall in the hallway, hilt wavering only slightly from impact.
You step to the side and let out a startled breath.
The dreadful fluorescent lighting in the hallway is terribly bright, but the reflection in the knife’s gleam is radiant.
Two eyes stare back at you through the blade, one orange, one a shocking familiar teal widening with something akin to surprise at the sight of his knife before settling into a predatory, furious state.
He’s blocking the entrance in an instant and you trot several steps back, stomach dropping as you prepare yourself for what’s to come.
He stands with his head bowed, slightly hunched, looking all the more like a starved lion, barely restrained from pouncing on his waiting supper.
Your gaze rips away from his scorching eyes and lands on his arms- burgundy striped sleeves rolled up his wiry forearms, one hand propped against the stone wall, the other hanging loose by his side, a shocking amount of blood dripping down from his elbow, down the knobs of his fingers and to the floor.
The cigar hanging loosely from his lips twitches as he gives you something adjacent to a sneer, although there’s little humor in it when paired with the fury outlining every other feature of his face.
His face doesn’t change, but the hand on the wall clenches into a tight fist, dragging forward, a track of glistening red succeeding the movement.
He takes a step forward and you rear back, knowing how terrified you appear.
Another twitch of his lips, this one taunting, something wild kindling in his eyes as he takes you in, eyes flitting across your worried brows, your heaving chest as you try to quell your pounding heart.
Silco slowly presses into the room, wordless.
“Do- do you remember this place?” you stutter, stumbling your feet over the ratty gym mats littering the floor.
A low growl rumbles in his chest as he expertly rolls his cigar over to one side of his mouth.
“You’ll find there’s little I don’t remember.”
His voice is grittier than before, cold and snakelike, and you’re reminded of the time that has elapsed since you’d last spoken.
Your gulp is loud in the stone room, echoing off the walls, providing soundtrack to your dance.
How long have you been playing this game now, half a year? Foiling plans, pulling strings from behind the scenes, going so far as to murder his people. You’d wanted him suffering, you’d wanted him angry, matching him move for move, and now it had culminated in this single moment, where you stand, toes curling over the edge of a dangerous precipice.
“Yes, I remember,” he hums. “What a fitting place you chose to die.”
“I don’t intend to die here.”
He lunges and you burst forward in a mad dash for the exit, but the world predictably spins, and stars splash across the borders of your vision as you’re thrust forward into the wall, one arm twisted behind your back painfully. Your other hand clings uselessly to his thigh, digging into the fabric there as you pant.
Smoke stings the inside of your nostrils and your cheek presses against the chilled stone as you stare wide-eyed at his hand crushing the cigar into the wall right before your nose. Your gaze dips as it falls abandoned to the ground and you gasp when the knife sinks into the wall instead with a sharp thud.
“I had my suspicions it was you from the very start. All your meddling. Making things difficult.” He hisses, pressing you painfully into the wall for emphasis. “Oh, you were always so good at being difficult, weren’t you? Forcing me to bloody my hands just to find you. I do hope you think you’re clever.”
“Please,” you whimper, as pathetic as you can muster. “Don’t hurt me.”
Silco’s tone is ragged, seething as he shoves his nose against your temple, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks each clipped word harshly into it.
“Cut. The. Act.”
You crane your neck but are unable to catch his eye. It’s near impossible to quit the incessant quake that has your muscles rattling against his, but the translation changes drastically as you allow your features to fall into the barely restrained fury just beneath the surface.
“Get off me.”
You attempt to slam your foot down on his insole, but there’s little space for it.
“There she is. Our little actress. Tell me, how’s Vander?” he purrs, a bitter self-satisfaction suffusing his tone. “Do you have him all wrapped around your finger now that I’m gone?”
Something bubbles up inside as you hurriedly turn to press your forehead against the wall, your chest heaving with ill-timed emotion.
Your hand is torn away from the fabric of his pants as he releases the arm behind your back, spins you around, and pins you against the wall again, his bony fingers latching onto your wrists now, blood smearing across the palms of your hands that now frame the space on either side of your head.
And he finds the remnants of laughter on your lips.
“You think I’m working with Vander? I knew you’d changed, Silco. But I didn’t think you’d be stupider.”
You not only hear but feel the rumble in his chest this time.
The vise that tightens painfully around your wrists speaks multitudes as you squirm.
“Careful now, darling,” his face tilts forward tauntingly, lips twitching into a cruel sneer, eyes brimming with lethal promise. “I am a changed man, after all.”
You study him with a daggered glare. Those painful scars you’ve seen only from afar until now. Janna, he used to be so expressive, in his own peculiar way- now so carefully withholding, impassive. But it didn’t take much searching to discern that dark edge clouding his features, steeping into that teal eye.
And that’s the color you remember, hovering above you, taunting, pinning you time and time again to these very gym mats during combat practice, you screeching and clawing like a mad cat beneath him.
All those times he’d bested you, humiliated you in front of the other Children of Zaun. But you’d keep coming back each day, a glutton for punishment, wanting to win so badly, recklessly throwing the first punch, spurred on by that smirk of his, sometimes even taking to the shadows, lying in wait for him to prowl past.
You’d never been one to make friends easily. Still weren’t. You weren’t an easy pill to swallow, but nor was he, and maybe that was what had him allowing your reckless assaults, what had him searching you out after a while, intent on putting you in your place. And oh, how he loved putting people in their place.
But you never stayed put. It wasn’t in your nature.
And that fact alone had pushed the two of you into something you couldn’t quite call a friendship- the tumultuous, spiteful waters too full of a strange tension to be defined as such.
Then he’d disappeared.
“I thought you were dead. For months,” you spit accusingly.
His eyes search yours for a drawn-out moment.
“Perhaps I did die.” He hungrily laps up your outrage as he trails one bloody hand down to your neck, encircling it lightly. “Perhaps you’ve done yourself a great disservice, drawing me into the open like this.”
“Easy really. You never did like a loose end.”
Your derisive laugh is cut off by a single warning squeeze to your throat and you close your eyes against the swell of heat that accompanies it.
You hedge your bets on Silco not killing you, not yet at least.
He is a changed man, yes, but the foundation he’s built upon is still the same. He is the same Silco who hungers for answers like a man perpetually starved- whose immovable, unrelenting nature calls to your own hurricane-like one.
There is still something there of the man you’d become so infatuated with.
At least you hope.
“And what were you hoping to achieve- running about, interfering, engaging in such senseless violence?” he croons.
You open your eyes, steadying yourself in order to dish out an outrageous eyeroll.
“They betrayed you anyhow, the ones I killed,” you say, sounding a little too proud of yourself, and not really answering his question at all. “Dropped you like a hot skillet as soon as money talk started. They would have offed you eventually. With the proper motivation.”
“Mm, out there doing me favors, then,” he mutters, looking unperturbed, thumb brushing lightly across your pulse, as if he isn’t surprised in the least that he has traitors among him. “Such a conniving thing.”
Your lips form a tight line, eyes falling shut again in frustration. He doesn’t get it.
“Look at me,” he commands, voice fatally soft, and you steadfastly disobey, scrunching your nose to emphasize just how little you were willing to relinquish. But your eyes pop wide open on instinct as soon as the hand wrapping a wet necklace around your throat squeezes and holds.
The slight upturn of Silco’s lips is minute, but primitive, nonetheless.
As much as common sense would have you clawing at your desperately contracting windpipe, you fist your free hand tightly in his shirt instead, trying to maintain a challenging glare even as your jaw drops open with unsuccessful breaths.
Even as something ancient and unbidden coils hotly in your abdomen.
“Be that as it may, you’ve pushed me far past the boundaries of my extensive patience.”
He releases abruptly and you reel forward as you greedily heave in oxygen, coughing and sputtering, the crown of your head pressing into his sternum as he allows you to catch your breath.
And as the shooting stars recede from your periphery, you tilt your head up and sneer.
You despise the dark amusement on his face.
“Should’ve just let them kill you,” you spit, reddening face inches from his, wanting, no needing a reaction.
And Silco’s face is unreadable.
“So, that’s why you’re here then? To kill me?” Two hands prop themselves beside your ears as he leans in. “Oh, you’re so close, keep trying.”
“I’m not here to kill you.”
You make as if to close the distance, nose stopping inches from his, a savage smile playing about your lips.
“But I will get what I came here for.”
A single exhale betrays him and the stone next to your head scrapes as his nails subtly dig in. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his gaze flits to your mouth.
“And what would that be?”
“I want a fucking rematch.”
You use the hand fisted in his shirt to propel the other into the unsuspecting softness of his chest.
With a startled grunt, he stumbles backward a half step, eyes narrowing as in one move, you yank the dagger from the wall and narrowly duck to avoid his outstretched arm, crossing to the other side of the room.
After a long, nerve-wracking beat, Silco turns to you, an almost dizzying energy radiating off him as he levels you with a look that contains the same unrestrained fire he prowled in with.
“With my own dagger? Oh, I really didn’t think you had it in you.”
His hawklike gaze catches the cold shudder that walks down your spine before his eyes catch yours again, something dangerously excited igniting there.
All those times he’d bested you, pinned you right here on these mats, his half-hard length pressing into the space between your legs, eyes wild as you utilized anger to shrink from your desire- to run away.
He’s frustrated. And furious, so furious. But you’re sure, absolutely sure now, that he’s taking just as twisted of a delight in this as you are. It has you setting your jaw, twirling the blade tauntingly across your palm.
Your eyes fall to his bloodied hands, staining a dark crimson as they dry.
“To be fair, I did try to give it back.”
“Oh, there’s nothing fair about you.”
His own blade materializes seemingly out of thin air, hilt tossed about in his palm, black and orange in color.
He waits for you to lunge, and you do with a centering growl, keeping low, arm swinging in a sideways arc just as his does, forcing you to switch up, instead sliding into his booted feet as if sweeping in for a home run. He stumbles and you barely manage to regain your balance before darting out of the way of his blade.
“Still overeager, I see,” Silco pants, eyes tracking your form, circling you like a vulture, voice pitching strangely.
“Still a beanpole, I see,” you retort, flying at him again, as if determined to prove his point.
And you begin a vicious dance, meeting in the middle again and again. You leap out of the way of his attacks, clever and dexterous, using practiced history to anticipate his movements.
“I do, by the way” you say, managing to catch him off guard with a brutal kick to the stomach, “Think I’m clever.”
Silco hisses, but latches onto your ankle, yanking you forward.
“Do you?” he grits.
You spin mid-air, yelping as your full body weight smacks the mat, and you succeed in donkey kicking him away.
“I do,” you sputter, leaping back to your feet. “I mean Janna, how long have you been letting me run circles around you?”
Something dark and merciless casts a shadow over both orange and teal, his pupils dilating as his tongue presses into his teeth in calculation. His gaze trails unhurriedly down your body, as if capturing this moment of hubris, memorizing it.
And he exhales a soft grunt, focus narrowing back on the widening of your eyes as he cocks his head and this time, he’s the first to lunge.
You defend, spring back time and time again, blocking each of his relentless jabs, desperation pushing you to swing at him hard but he surprises you, a fist enclosing your wrist to jar you, pull you off kilter.
You twirl, side-step to correct, switch the knife to your other hand just in time to have it end up trapped between his arm and your side as he yanks you into his chest, arm encircling your mid-back.
Your bewildered gaze takes a moment to adjust to your new position- his knife poised delicately against your throat, face hovering directly over yours.
“Long enough,” he answers in a tattered voice, and your eyes flutter as his breath tickles the sweat-dampened hairs on your forehead.
The two of you are flushed, panting, and with the way he fastens you against him, your lower abdomen flush against an unmistakable hardness, his knife driving your upper body backward, you have to arch uncomfortably into him just to maintain eye contact.
In his gaze there is a hunger that shocks, overwhelms you in its intensity.
“Do you work for anyone?” he asks.
You try to make your weapon anything but useless at your side, wrenching your wrist, grazing the side of his thigh.
“I can still make it hurt,” you snarl, eyes pinning his with a cold glare as you try and muster something up out of that ever-flowing well of anger in your chest.
You use your free hand to attempt to grate your nails across any visible skin, because however self-assured he looks, the fight isn’t over.
Silco’s response is to lower his center hold to wrap around your waist, forcing you to grip tightly to the fabric of his shoulder just to keep from falling back.
His searing look demands an answer.
“Here and there-”
The knife digs in lightly.
“No,” you choke. “I don’t have a job.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t kn-“
The knife drives you further back and you let out a tight, teeth-gritting squawk of frustration, the discomfort of craning your neck enough that you finally drop your head back, relaxing into his firm grip, the two of you standing in an awkward, uncomfortable mimicry of a ballroom dip.
“Because I’m- I was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck happened to you.” The words are cast from your mouth and into the open air like tiny, poisonous arrows. “I knew you wouldn’t have just up and left like they said. I searched everywhere- ate, slept, and breathed you, only to find out you were still alive…”
“And you decided to make my life harder for it?”
Your cackling laugh sounds deranged from your position.
“Among other things. You deserved every-”
You choke on a gasp as Silco rolls his hips methodically slow, the ridge of his cock catching your clit and drawing his impressive length upward, wrenching an embarrassing, high-pitched moan from your throat as your fingers dig into his shirt.
This isn’t how it-
The knife in your hand clatters to the floor as he rolls against you again, rendering you speechless.
“Maddening. You are maddening.” His tone is so low, so ragged, it must be born from the deepest, most primal part of him. “You know, I used to spend hours concocting ways to get you to shut up.”
He abandons his own knife, sheathing it at his side, splaying his hands to drag up your spine, until one long-fingered hand clasps around the back of your neck.
You stare dazedly as he lifts you, blinking half-lidded as you drink them in, those carefully impassive features that you think you can see right through. You press your face gently into his neck, teasing along the hinge of his jaw, and you hate how well you fit, the way his knife-bladed nose buries perfectly into your hair, the gentleness contrasting his next clipped words.
“Shoving my cock down your throat to silence your incessant screeching. Fucking you back into those shadows where you thought you hid so well. Suffo-“
Silco’s words stutter into the crown of your head as you lick a long, salty stripe across his pulse point and his hand draws up to fist in your hair, pulling back so he can look at you.
“Suffocating you until those pretty eyes rolled back.”
Your hands fall to his hips to run down his sides, up again to pull him flush against you. His free hand follows suit, kneading into your ass as he hunches over you just slightly in order to track his middle and index down, applying a perfect, dragging pressure once, twice over the crotch of your pants before trailing back up to cup your soft flesh.
“Always such an angry thing,” he says almost reverently as you try and fail to stifle a whine, “Now look at you. So soft.”
Silco, one hand still kneading into your hair, steps back to make room for the other as it travels down your front.
It’s not practiced fear nor rage that you tremble from this time, it’s raw desire that has you shaking like a leaf as he slides his palm between your pants and underwear.
It’s been so long, you realize, since you’ve been touched, even held, that at the first swipe of his fingers across your clit, you cry out, wobbling, eyes screwing shut at the explosive sensation.
“I think,” he croons down at you, and his voice is so deceptively soft as he works you, “What you needed all along was for someone to just touch you.”
You can’t lose sight, won’t lose sight.
Even as he leans down to your ear.
“For me to touch you, hm?”
He drags tight circles around your aching bud and your knuckles crack as your hand unfists his shirt, smoothing down the rough material of his vest.
You nearly sob as the pressure builds sharply, and it’s almost humiliating how fast he’s able to bring you to that precipice.
“Pl-ease,” you pant, tilting your head up, moaning through your teeth. “I’m g-onna-”
His mouth is so close to yours, breath uneven, labored as he quickens his pace, his wild eyes mapping the pleasure as it tracks across your face.
“You can cum, darling.”
Your eyes flutter closed, and everything gets tighter, and tighter.
“I w-“ Seconds away, you’re seconds away from that cliff. “I w-“
The hand in your hair finds its way to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.
And just as you cross the point of no return, you clumsily press the pointed end of his dagger into his upper back just enough that he’s able to identify it before tossing it to the side to clatter to the floor.
He could have killed you. But he didn’t. You could have killed him. But you didn’t.
The shock, the black that blows out the teal of his eye at the realization is enough to push you over the edge and you’re sinking your nails into his arm, clawing red, angry trails across his skin in desperation as your back bows and your knees buckle.
The punishing grip in your hair only heightens the domino effect and to Silco’s credit, he doesn’t stop working you, lowering you slowly to the ground as you writhe against him, a long, high-pitched whine freeing itself from your throat.
Light explodes behind your eyelids and you fall forward, curling in on yourself as your pussy clenches around nothing.
You blink stars out of your eyes as you peer down.
Silco is on his knees and you straddle his lap, his hard length nestled between the apex of your thighs. Through the dull ringing in your ears, you hear his sputtering.
And you hardly realize that your forehead presses against his until you’re jarred aggressively, two hands sliding up your sides to rid you of your shirt, your bra, tossing them furiously to the side.
He’s spitting acid.
“I should have killed you. The moment I discovered it was you.”
He grabs the back of your head, pulls you into a violent kiss, and a tidal wave of sensation has the world crashing back in and before you know it, your hands are eagerly twisted into the textured strands of his hair, hips grinding into his.
A familiar rumble of anger rocks through his chest and he yanks your hair back, runs one hand down your collarbone to cup one breast roughly.
“Desperate for more, already?” You squeal when he twists your nipple hard. “Do you really think after that little display you deserve anything I have to offer?”
“I think I deserve something.”
One of your hands falls to the strain in his pants and you run your palm along it, deriving a sick satisfaction from the way his abdomen tightens, his teeth grind.
He tilts forward, mouth enveloping one of your pebbling nipples and your gasp ratchets into a vulgar moan as his tongue flutters around the stiff peak, the sensation arcing its way directly between your legs, the heat too much. Too fast.
The hand not fondling him caresses the back of his head, unsure whether to pull him in or push him away as his teeth graze the sensitive skin and he sucks, pulling out of you a keening cry.
He moves to the other breast, lavishing it with similar attentions like a man starved, nipping sharply when you grow selfish, when your hand stops working at him.
You need him. You need more.
“Please,” you snip impatiently, “You want me to beg, right? Isn’t that your thing?”
Silco releases your hair and you spring forward, nipping lightly at his bottom lip, working on his pants.
“I’m quite aware of your neediness already.”
He snatches your jaw in an iron grip and you maintain his fiery gaze with a determined glare as you thumb the complex buttons of his pants. Something oddly soft irons out the crease between his brow before you’ve take him into your palm much faster than anticipated, and he releases a shattered growl.
The speed at which he strikes you down is astonishing and you blink twice, confused, at your sudden view of the ceiling. Silco looms in your lower periphery, his adept hands making quick work of your pants, yanking them off, tossing them to the side. Your eye draws to the twitching length lying solid, inviting against his inner thigh and he meets your hungry gaze with one of his own.
You sit up, intent to pounce.
“Lay back down,” he commands harshly, and you ignore, sitting back on your haunches.
Silco lurches forward as you spider back but he’s faster, and you let out an indignant screech as he snatches your ankles, yanking you toward him, your skin making an outrageous noise as it squeaks across the leather mat.
“If you want to make things difficult,” he growls, length grazing your thigh as he immobilizes your squirming form, folding your knees outward, spreading you lewdly to observe the glistening wetness between your legs. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“I’m more than happy to oblige,” you mock in a comically low voice and he smacks your thigh hard. You wriggle to try and aim a pathetic kick at his chest and with barely curbed aggravation he drags himself between your legs, propping himself over you.
Silco slides himself across your slick folds, catching at your entrance. Your body betrays you as you release a strangled moan. His arms quake just slightly, head dropping with a shuddered breath at the feel of your soaking heat, strands of his hair falling out of his careful style to tickle your neck.
He bounces back quicker than you do, grasping himself, dragging the swollen head of his cock torturously up and down your slit, studying you callously as you writhe beneath, punishment for your cheekiness.
“Fucker,” you spit and his lips twitch almost fondly. He drops his head to your sweat damp neck.
“I’ve been nice thus far,” he croons into the juncture of your jaw. “Can’t you try? To be nice?”
“I swear to Janna, put me on top if you can’t do this right. I’ve waited years for this, and it’s going to be done my way.”
“Unfortunately, that’s no longer in the cards after you held a knife to my back.”
“Served you right!” you yell.
He murmurs a quiet “Careful,” into your ear before he removes himself from your neck, sitting back on his haunches, positioning himself.
“I think you just want something to be upset about.”
Your lips freeze in an ‘oh’ as his hips begin a slow inch forward and you’re both made speechless. He pauses, and you don’t know whether it’s for you or him, his teal eye shutting tightly as if to anchor himself.
Silco is solid and so achingly hard inside you, and he stretches you painfully. But it’s exquisite. And he’s too slow, trying to savor it, you think, the moment. But he’s not answering your whining pleas and you’re squirming to grab his attention. Impatient.
Your legs wrap around his thighs, and you cross your ankles. You smile devilishly with the satisfaction of watching his eye shoot back open in realization before you thrust him the rest of the way inside.
His mouth falls open as a jagged, echoing groan is punched out of him, his fingers digging excruciatingly hard into the muscles of your inner thigh as his hips are pressed flush with yours.
You cry out at the sudden fullness, clawing uselessly at the mat. Oh, it’s excruciating. Wonderfully so. And you want him- no, need him to do something besides clutch into your skin, tower over you as if deciding which part of you to stab into first. And in a bid for a reaction out of the man, you clench around him, hard.
He hisses through his teeth.
“Oh,” Silco breathes, his voice full of deadly promise, chest heaving with unbridled fury, only fueled by the wild lust eclipsing both eyes. “You make me mad.”
Fingers dig further into your thigh as he violently spreads your legs apart, crawling forward until his face is right above your panting one, shoulders pressing you into a curled position, knees spread impossibly wide.
Breathing is suddenly no longer a course of action as, without warning, his palm clamps down on your throat and squeezes, rendering you completely prone beneath him as you have no choice but to take it as he fucks into you mercilessly.
Deep, quick-fire thrusts nail hidden spots inside you that have mini fireworks exploding behind your eyelids.
Your chest burns and your body doesn’t know what sensation to focus on, what reality to latch onto, mind going completely and blissfully haywire as neurons seem to fire haphazardly. You grasp onto his arm like a lifeline, pleasure recycling over and over again as you convulse beneath him.
“You make me furious.”
There’s a rumbling, a purr, emitting from low in his chest, vibrating into your own, like a growling predator just emerged from its den. It feeds you, challenges you.
You fight to maintain the angry eye contact as you’re jostled, and he lets up, allowing you a few choked breaths before grasping your throat again.
He wrenches your head to the side, and his breath is a hot pant against your ear as he seethes, each syllable accompanied by the sound of his hips meetings yours in an obscene slap.
“Incorrigible. Never learned to behave. So rude. So impatient.”
The beginnings of another orgasm tingle across your sweat soaked skin as a rubber band stretches across your lower belly. Your hands latch onto his where they clasp around your throat, tightening his hold there.
Silco groans at the gesture, and suddenly he’s everywhere, heated words whispering into your neck, your cheekbones, your temple.
“You love it, don’t you? Me shutting you up like this. Should’ve done this ages ago. Given you the attention you so desperately begged for. With all your silly little tantrums.”
You don’t hear the rest.
It’s less of a crackling explosion, this one, more of a gentle, rolling thunderstorm as that band snaps. Except you’re completely fixed, held down entirely by Silco- can’t arch your back, can’t stretch your legs, you can’t even cry out- just have to lie there and take what he’s given you, a wild pressure renting out every hollow in your trembling body until he offers you an outlet by releasing your throat, a throaty wail resonating obscenely across the stone walls.
You suck in air, cough it back out, can hardly get a grip on yourself as pleasure ripples back and forth like you’re being steamrolled by it.
And you hardly know where you are, eyes squeezed shut, tiny whimpers accompanying every exhale, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, Silco still inside you, still impossibly hard, although not moving. You can sense he’s propped above you, can feel his eyes as they dart across your trembling features, watching as you work through the terribly powerful bliss.
And then all is still.
You crack open your eyes, fix them on the ceiling, blinking languidly, studying and counting the criss-crossing wooden slats like you’d just awoken from a deep slumber.
A calloused hand slides its way under the back of your neck, another wraps your mid-back and you allow yourself to be pulled up and into Silco lap, your arms wrapping the back of his neck automatically, nose burying itself in his neck.
It’s a complete contradiction, the way he rocks up into you now, slowly, like you’re something to be savored. And you ram your forehead into his shoulder, biting into the fabric of his vest as you try not to jolt with each wet slide of him inside your sensitive walls.
You keep your eyes closed for a moment just to listen to his soft grunts as he wrecks you again with gentle but thorough thrusts, each movement pushing a small, unrestrained whine from your lips as he fills you perfectly.
Silco puffs a laugh and you realize dazedly you’ve been muttering out loud.
“Perfect,” you rasp again, unashamed.
He tugs you backward and you surrender your position on his shoulder with a whine that he swallows, pressing his lips to yours and forging ahead with his expert tongue when you gasp at the newness of it, the tenderness.
He reaches a hand down between your bodies and you shake your head, lips breaking from his.
“I ca-I can’t. Too sensitive.”
“Shhh,” he croons gently before his thumb finds your aching bud.
You jump at the electric arc of sensation, yelp as his other hand grabs a hold of your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace, beginning to chase his own release.
He’s already close, he has to be.
Silco swallows every tattered moan, every soft squeal that he pulls out of you with the expert roll of his thumb.
Your body writhes, contorts as he fucks up into you.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you murmur, almost panicking against his mouth and you can feel the smirking stretch of his lips.
And it slams into you again, a third orgasm rising so sharply you feel like you’ve just flown off the edge of a cliff with no ground in sight. You let out a long, anguished whine into his mouth and you’re clawing at him as one set of fingers continue to work you through it, the others threading your hair to better inhale your cries.
Your arms can hardly summon the energy to hold yourself upright, and you just slump onto his shoulder, spasming around him, drenching his cock as you cry out his name in a torn voice that draws his own release forth, pulsing in tandem as his hips stutter, spilling his load into you with a ragged groan.
Your fingers find his hair, shakily brushing through the soft strands, and you try to quell the aching emotion in your chest that has tears springing to your eyes, has you pressing yourself further into his shoulder to hide.
“I missed you,” you say. It’s all you can say, really.
A hand draws hesitantly down your spine, kneading each vertebrae, as if to ensure you were still there. Real.
“You’re not the only one,” he murmurs, and there's a long pause before he turns, dropping his chin gently to the top of your head, “Whose been waiting.”
<3 <3 <3
Hi, I hope you enjoyed! Sorry I was a day late with this one. It's 3am and my only hope at this point is that this story makes a modicum of sense. Thank you for reading, I love you all!
Love, Sulty <3
I Don't Like This Song (18+) (GN!Reader X Silco)
Sequel: Musical Appreciation
Pairing: GN Reader X Silco
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY, shoo minors) Language/dirty-talk, slight voice-kink, praising, light bondage, denial/edging, riding, power-bottom/switch!Silco, sex with clothes on, couch-sex, some romance/fluff between the hoo-boy-
Note: This is only the second fic I've posted on here. I've had this blog for four damn days. That's how long it took for y'all to corrupt me. I hope you're proud.
Simp-Squad Tags: @chickenparm @mayor-returns @thesinoflust1103 @agoutighost @shuttlelauncher81 @[email protected]
The record skips. Pauses, and then the next track begins. Slow, with audible pauses between deep, sensual hums of wordless beats.
It's already giving you ideas.
"You've been," A pause, fingers pausing where they were playing with the practiced, elegant knot at the base of his throat. You followed the dipping, twisted turns of his tie, before your eyes drag back up to the cerulean and hellish-red-and-black peering at you, seemingly impassive but you had enough expertise to see the bemusement dancing in his gaze. "... busy."
"Is that so?" Again, the musement was well hidden under apparent disinterest, but you noted the way he patiently returned his pen down atop long-forgotten reports and paper, now settling both hands on your hips. His attention was all on you now, as it had been since you'd walked in, closed the door, and loudly flipped the lock closed behind you. "I run an empire. You should know what kind of energy it takes to make such a commitment, darling."
"You'll run yourself ragged." You said it only half-teasingly, but your note of concern earned you only a lazy half-shrug, 'what can you do?' style.
"I'm serious, Silco."
"Are you? I find it hard to take one seriously when someone sits like this..." Fingers begin kneading deeply to the beat of the music on the curve of your hips. Your breath hitches, and his face hovers closer to catch the gasp on his own lips. "... and looking as beautiful as you, doll."
The beat of the radio dips, before stilling entirely. The idea it gives you is too good for you to give-in to the ruling crime-lord of Zaun, and so you hook a finger through the tie, tugging lightly to undo it while you roll your hips into his lap. The dark purr this earns you coincides with him tipping his head to your neck as you smoothly begin to loosen and snake his tie down from around his neck, pausing only briefly to shiver and whimper longingly at the kisses he places along your pulse point.
"I-I want to-" A nip at your jugular has your assertive tone stumbling, as he drags out the word playfully into your nape, "Yes?"
Concentrate; like the slow tune softly rumbling in the background, you know it'll be worth it.
"I… Wrists, behind. Tied behind the back, I mean." You feel the dangerous smirk on your skin, and fingers creeping from your hips to obediently begin tugging the tie out of your hands- "For you, I mean." A pause, and you bite your bottom lip in the silence. He contemplated for a long moment… surely, after everything you've been through together, he did trust you, didn't he? The anxious thought made you want to take back the question entirely-
The thought is broken by an audible moan breaking from your lips as you feel the pinch of teeth on your earlobe, an approving, deep hum as you fist your hands tighter into his vest for support as the tease whispers huskily, "It'd be my pleasure."
You agree wholeheartedly, hips unconsciously rocking against him before you slowly slip off his lap, getting back onto your feet while playing with the tie in hands- "No, wait."
Fingers pause at the intricate, golden buttons on his vest.
"... Leave them on."
A brow raises. You hold your ground, and it lowers, eyes narrowing a bit curiously with the perplexed motion. Taking a breath, you raise your own hand, and twirl your index finger once in the air in anxious, but eager instruction.
Moments later, tongue-melding kiss unbroken, you feel some breath knock out of him as you shove him into the plush couch of his office. Pulling back for you both to take a breath, you focus on pulling out his tucked-in red undershirt while he shuffles into a more comfortable position on his back, forearms tied atop one another securely behind him. Dual-colored eyes watch you in lust-filled bemusement as he reclined his head back on the arm-rest smoothly, like the positions were flipped. "You seem eager."
It took all you had not to fumble at his smooth tone, managing to yank the remainder of his shirt from under the hem of his pants. You soon relished in the pleased, closed-mouth groan you received as you slid your hands underneath clothing to scratch and smooth palms over skin. "Again, you've been busy," You mused back at him, smiling as you watched him shudder as nails bite and drag on his abdomen deliciously, leaning back over to his face, "Maybe I just really want to see you come undone."
"Hmm… refreshing," He hums, silenced as you run your mouth back up to his, kiss deepening into passion shortly after as you continue relaxing, yet sensual ministrations along his skin, slowly moving a leg to press between his own. You feel, rather than hear the sharp intake of air Silco makes as you begin rubbing a knee up against him. With a hand slipping up to coax and cart through dark hair at the base of his scalp, the hitched note in his breath begins to take a low, appreciative rumbling turn as you run fingers through his dark hair.
You pull back just enough to watch his expression of lust, lips brushing against yours with every drag of your thigh between his legs, the bulge growing with every movement you make against him. A particular grind between his legs has him clenching his teeth with a wanting-hiss, and you see him jerk his shoulders as he gives an unconscious yank behind him at the tie, keeping him from pulling you even closer.
Then, the song ends on the radio behind you. You hear Silco's sharp, disbelieving exhale as you shuffle off of him and you feel his stunned gaze at your back as you fully walk away to the radio.
"What-" A pause, and you hear lips audibly being licked as he asked again with dry tongue. "What are you…?" "I don't like this song." You say simply, taking out the large vinyl disk from the needle and turning, waving it slightly in the air with a frown. "Dragon-Imaginings? No one can fuck to that, Sil, I have to find something better."
The stunned silence from the Eye of Zaun as you carelessly toss the large disk aside, is broken by his hoarse chuckle as you kneel down to the table the record-player stands on, shuffling through the other disks with a careless, patient air. "Hmm… How about this one?"
You turn slightly to wave the new record, and after another beat, catch the crime-lord closing his mortal-eye and letting out another chuckle of disbelief, shrugging as much as he could on his back and with arms tied beneath him. "Perfect," he drawls in amusement, before cracking open his hooded blue eye as he murmurs with dark desire: "Now, hurry up and get back over here."
You gulp back a breath, steeling yourself as you turn and take your time gently putting the record in, dropping the needle down slowly with one finger. You can see the impatient shuffle he makes on his spot on the couch as you turn back, nudging his legs out of the way for you to sit just below his knees, and immediately place a firm palm on the tent in his pants.
"That's it…" Silco urges you with a stained murmur, tilting his head back with a pleased hum, with the column of his throat bobbing with his swallow. You palm and rub against him through his pants, delighting in the unconscious jolt his hips give as you loosely wrap your fingers around the tent. A deep growl sounds from his chest as you swipe a thumb over the tip, "Hmm… imagining my hand fully wrapping around you, baby? My skin against yours?"
Your tease is met with another breathless chuckle that has you flushing further than you already are, "Oh doll… I'm picturing a couple things of yours around my coc-" You press your hand further around the fabric to give an imitation of a proper stroke, which has him biting his bottom lip to hold back a moan.
Which won't do at all, so pressing a hand to his lower abdomen to keep him steady, you soon begin to match up with the beats of the music as you stroke and rub his clothed shaft. You could melt at the muted growls and husky swears that tumble from his mouth as you pick up in pace from the song, your other hand slipping back under his shirt to knead against his chest.
He's unable to bite back the strangled groan as you drag nails over a nipple, eye cracking open to peer at your smug smirk at his reaction. "Cheeky..." He snarls lowly, letting out another hiss between tight teeth as he rolls into your palm, movements getting a bit more faster and needy-
The song ends, and at the upbeat thumps of the next song, you immediately frown and pull away from him to back to the player. His legs twitch and almost trip you as he tries to move, half-growling as he half-demands, "Where are you going?"
"You want to get-off to this?" Incredulously, you lift the needle again, scanning the title of the record before experimentally dropping the needle in place, listening to the tune and attempting to ignore the frustrated grumble and shuffling behind you on the couch. R&B, not terrible, but the vocals are too gushy…
"Y/N, music should not be your priority right now." Any other time, that sensual growl promising vengeance if compliance is not given soon, would send you to answer his every beck and call, catering to his every whim.
But no, seriously, this record just isn't doing it for you, and you take sweet time to start going through a handful you pluck from the stacks. Upon returning, you smile innocently down at him while he gives you a tight-jawed glare, impatience glittering in his eyes as you merely run your eyes over his form. You hum along to the music with your hips slowly swaying to the beat, bending down slightly to brush the back of your knuckles along his cheekbones, and the de-facto leader of the Undercity lets out a slow breath as some tension releases, turning his head closer to your touch.
"Like I said… you've been busy." You murmur quietly, unable to resist as you give a slow swipe of your thumb at the corner of his mouth. You swing your leg up and over him, once again straddling the man as you are careful to drift past his neck with only your fingers to leave skin tingling at your touch. Hands press firmly to his chest as you rock your core against his length, causing a shaky breath to release slowly as he watches you with hooded eyes. "Life's too short, especially down here, Silco. You need to…" Another slow, deep rock against him, that has his back arching slightly when you pull your hips just out of the way again. "... slow down."
"Oh… is that so?"
You nod, rocking down again and leaning to catch the wisps of his sharp gasp between chipped teeth from his lips. "Mmhm..."
"Hnngh…" Another deep swallow, lips parting as his breathing begins to pick up again as you give slow, painfully slow thrusts against his length, straining in the confines of his pants. You feel your own lungs constrict faster in your chest just at the sight of him, but manage to hold your pace, matching to the beats of the music…
Then the song comes to a close, and you immediately raise yourself back onto your nears, leaning up just out of his reach. Snarl immediately slipping out his mouth in your absence, Silco fixes his frustrated gaze on you as you hold up a finger patiently, tilting your head as you heard-out the first few notes of the next track on the record-player. "Hm… yeah, this'll do."
The slight baring of his teeth immediately goes rigid with a suppressed groan as you shuffle further down once more, hand cupping against him again to begin rubbing and palming through the quickly-dampening fabric along to the faster beats.
"Gods, you're beautiful, Sil." You mean it, and even in the midst of the motions of your hand against him clouding his mind, he knows it. Seafoam green bores directly into your eyes, hazed in lust and primal desire, but that true, deep affection buried in his gaze as his mouth wordlessly begins to strain for air, hips dulating in time to your touch leaves your core and chest melting in warmth…
Still, as the song pauses, you just can't resist. Snatching your grip off of him, and Silco openly swears, head knocking back on the armrest behind him in frustration. His back arches as you return your palm back to him the moment the song kicks back up, "Gods, that's it…"
A chuckle fills the air between the sways of the music, and you have to bite your lip in delight at the deep growl that sounds from his chest as you begin to slow down your motions. You give him some mercy though, firmly rubbing your thumb on the center wet-tip of the tent in his pants as you start slowing down your movements. "C'mon, baby, songs almost over…" Cooing before letting out a chuckle as you watch your love try to thrust into your grip as you slow down even further, you lean closer so blue and red eyes, furious at your lack of speed and endless teasing, snap to your bemused face. "I don't remember this album well… Maybe I won't like the next song either."
You really have to ground yourself onto his thighs as he takes those words as the threat that they are, pressing down on his thighs and spraying fingers right over the buckle of his belt to keep him in place as you let fingers slip and linger slowly over his still-closed clothed head.
His body trembles just as much his infuriated tone does as the song closes out, leaving the two of you in silence save for whispers of touch on his covered-cock. "Darling, I swear, if you get up now, I am going to-"
You slip off of him, landing on your feet while he lets out a string of aggravated curses as he watches you depart from where he needs you.
Humming, with loose, swaying hips, you ignore the panting through clenched-teeth behind you, the sound of shoed heels thumping useless and torturously frustrated on the couch seat. You bend again to reach the stack of records, relishing in the hateful hiss of impatience as he takes in the sight behind you, thumb flipping through the stack before you raise, displaying the chosen one in-between fingers as you smile devilishly over your shoulder. "How about this one, baby-?"
"I... am going to wreck you," Ice fuels your spine at the low, feral growl you hear between heavy breathing, and like a puppet on strings, you find yourself slowly turning with wide eyes at the man.
Helpless he is not, for even with dark hair slicked with sweat, vest rumpled with a heaving chest, he cracks open a now ice-blue eye and might as well be grabbing you by the throat with the unwavering attention he now has from you.
"That's right," Silco's breathless grin has all the sharpness of a dagger. Darkly satisfied now that he has your attention, he starts shimmying with shoulders and long legs to work himself up into a semi-seated position on the couch cushions, growling sinful promises all the while.
"Dearest, darling, doll... I will ruin you, for how many times I'm going to bring you to the peak... and simply leave you there. Oh yes." He speaks over your unconscious whine deep from your throat, arms twitching behind him as you remain distantly amazed by the strength of that damned tie. "I will lick you dry, before bringing you right back to soaking and whimpering. I will leave you in tears, pleading, begging for me to take you off that edge, and after, only after I begin growing bored, will I let you come on my cock... again... and again... and again..."
Every growl is deeper and lower than the last, sending wave after wave of heat pooling down to your core. Your dry mouth parts open, but it takes a minute for only a strangled, dying-fish sound to escape your vocal cords, words incompatible with your brain after such delicious, filthy promises. Silco grins wolfishly, the final, devastating words a mere breath that your ears strain to catch:
"I am going to redefine what fucking means for you."
"...Threats," You somehow find a way to turn, suppressing a lustful shudder at the feral snarl this earns you as you, very quickly, replace the record on the machine. You swallow. "... t-threats only work when you have something to lose. From what I'm hearing, I'll only gain in that situation."
You suck in a barely-stabilizing breath, turning back on wobbly legs in time to see him roll his head back slightly, dark and silver-streak strands slipping over his face as he lets out a breathless chuckle, sighing knowingly with the knowledge of a future for you that only he can picture, "Oh, just you wait then..."
Silco's grin is pure sin as you obediently make your way back to him after taking a moment to remember to breathe, hands pushing on his inner-tights to splay them wider on the couch for you to kneel between. Leaning over his body, you're barely within reachable distance before he lunges forward to lock your mouths again, groans and growls vibrating through, and straight down to between your legs as he near-instantly takes control of the kiss.
His hips are another story, as the barely-there brush on his tented crotch has him bucking, another deep growl vibrating your teeth as you do it a second time, this time one you both know is entirely on-purpose.
"Oh, for the love of..." Untangling from his lips, you mouth your way down his chin, to his throat. You leave an especially heated stripe with your tongue on his beating jugular, chest heaving in time with his hissing pants from above as you drag nails down his shivering sides, gripping at hips before and finally shuffling your body down, grasping at thighs.
You lick at your tender bitten lips, glancing up to catch hell-heated, hooded eyes watching you impatiently. Despite the promises, despite the ache it was pulling between your own lower-abdomen, you couldn't help but murmur a final tease, as you parroted his early words back to him, "You seem… eager." You let out a sharp breath and breathless chuckle as his only response is to lock ankles behind your back, using his legs to forcibly tug you closer to where he needed you. An impatient thrust when he felt your breath along the tent.
Another breathless chuckle at what you have reduced this man, this deadly crime master, this King, into, echoes in the silence of the room before the next song begins to play.
It's one you actually rather like, and within the first few beats, Silco lets out a long, shaking groan as you begin to tongue and lick over his bulge. The torrent of swears from above is escalating quickly, as you massage your thumbs into the toppermost of his thighs, before pressing down on hips as you close your lips on the wet tip of the tent.
You let out your own groan at the lingering taste of precum that you can sense through the damp fabric of his pants, the cologne that clings to his breath making the musk all the more enjoyable. You actually stop in shock as a drag of your teeth on the fabric causes a rather loud, tortured groan from above you, but it tampers off as the man notes the stops on your ministrations, fixing you with a frustrated glint in his slitted-gaze.
"... Say please?"
Silco's dark-glare of need goes pure-black at the sheer gall of your very-innocent question, eyes doe-like as you flutter your lashes patiently. And then immediately he slams his good-eye shut with a jolt of his body beneath you as you give a rough, harsh drag of your tongue over him. You feel him jerk under your mouth at his hiss of desire, but pull back all the same, waiting patiently as you hear him barely suppress a deep-throated whine. "...Please." He grits slowly through clenched teeth. "Please, fucking please-"
Silco's voice is incredible on it's own. That's a given.
But hearing him not just asking, not ordering or demanding or waiting, but pleading with that stunningly groaning, breathless voice, tone cracking adorably with want and impatience between syllables-
The moan that is punched out of him coincides with you closing your mouth under that large hot mound. You send vibrations through the fabric and straight through to his member as you moan, placing hands on his hips for support as he starts to rock under the actions of your mouth and tongue. His heavy breathing picks up immediately, and your eyes can't help but stare up at him in pure amazement as he comes undone, chest surging with every desperate roll of his hips.
You don't even have time to desire the taste of his skin on yours, without the confines of fabric. Silco says he's going to wreck you for putting him through this kind of pleasuring torture?
Well, you were going to wreck him first.
With his filthy promises urging you on, you snake one hand from a hip to fondle just beneath where your mouth is, letting out a ragged gasp at the loud swear that bursts out of him as you play with his balls through pants, a strangled attempt at your name sounding as his already frantic movements take a turn for the best.
Your other hand wraps around to dig nails into his backside as you let out a lustful groan with your mouth over the tip of his tented-cock. The room-echoing, shuddering groan from above you is more than enough proof of his climax, but there is still the evidence of hot fluid pooling under your tongue and staining his pants from the inside-out. You can't resist, making lewd sounds as you suckle at the damp tip to catch more of him on your tongue through his pants, and reveling in the higher-pitched whine Silco makes at this.
A final open-mouth kiss to his cock as you feel his legs go limp, you gently move yourself up over his body, careful to avoid anywhere below the sensitized line of his hips as you gently straddle his waist, staring down with amusement and affection at the destroyed man beneath you. Raising a hand, you smooth the dark strands of hair back over his forehead, mix-matched eyes dazed but adoring as Silco watches you tiredly, letting out a horse chuckle at your attempt to calm his disgruntled hair.
"... you doing okay down there?"
"... Hm." Is all he says, and you watch as he calmly pulls his hands out from behind his back, tossing the stretched-fabric of the tie carelessly aside before he reaches up, urging you to lie on his chest. "I had them undone for a while," he answers the silent question, boneless arms hooking around your waist as he pauses, kissing your temple sweetly compared to the ferality of his bruising kisses of earlier. "But you were enjoying yourself too much to stop me?" You tease, and let out a squeak as you feel the hand snake from the small of your back to swat at your ass.
"Oh yes, it was quite enjoyable… until you stopped. And then stopped again. And then stopped again..." You let out a small giggle at his dry tone, lowering your head to rest your chin on his collarbone as he sighs in pretend-annoyance, arms squeezing you lightly as you press a kiss to his neck. "... and while it was deliciously sinful, darling, I'm afraid I will absolutely be sending you the dry-cleaning bill."
"Oh, the horror," You still couldn't help but pity the fool in charge of laundry, who would likely be threatened with death-itself to keep their mouths shut as they scrubbed out the rather… obvious-stains on Silco's dress pants. The two of you relaxed in the afterglow of the moment, hands rubbing up and down the small of your back while you held yourself to his chest.
Fisting a hand on his vest, you gently raise yourself up to meet his eyes, licking again at your bruised lips as you look over his bedraggled, or in this case couch-raggled, appearance. His eye watch you, flicking briefly to watch the motion of your tongue before you work your mouth to make words again. "... You'll… go easier on me, though, won't you?"
You mean it as a joke, of course. But his earlier words still course through your veins, lighting a fire deep within you that you'll imagine Silco would soon make consume you entirely...
A blink, then a lazily tip back of his head as he lets out a long, quiet chuckle that has your breath hitching.
Not as much as when his hand fists into your hair, gently pulling you close for him to murmur against your lips sweetly, with eyes promising a long, slow retribution in the near future:
"Oh darling... of course not."
i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you
(sevika x reader, office romance - 18+)
Summary: Silco recently hired reader to be his new office assistant. She soon catches feelings for Sevika, and an office romance ensues.
Pairing: sevika x reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Tags: shyness, crushing, flirting, office romance, light fluff and angst
Author's Note: hiii sorry i haven't posted recently. med school has been busy asf and i have had no time to write. i put together this soft sweet piece for y'all so please enjoy~
You became Silco’s assistant a few months ago. He needed someone to place Shimmer orders, organize shipment paperwork, and generally keep the office organized and tidy. You were a bit skeptical at first, since working under Silco, the kingpin of Zaun, seemed like quite an intimidating endeavor.
You would be lying if you said the first few weeks on the job were easy. Silco really liked to pile work on you to see how you could handle the stress. Some days, you would come in at the crack of dawn and leave well into the middle of the night. You wanted to prove to him that you were a responsible employee who took your duties seriously.
As time went by though, he seemed to take it a bit easier on you by shortening your shifts and making your work more manageable. The more spare time he was willing to give you, the more often you spent it ogling his absolutely drop-dead gorgeous right-hand man.
Sevika didn’t come into the office that much. Silco usually sent her out on more dangerous missions in the field, like checking shipments in person or taking care of any pesky Chem-Barons who wanted to get in the way of the operation. But the rare moments she made an appearance were the ones you wanted to cherish forever.
“She new?” she asked, gesturing slightly in your direction. You immediately felt your cheeks heat up the moment she even acknowledged your existence. You pretended to look busy by shuffling absentmindedly through papers on your desk.
“Just an assistant,” Silco replied nonchalantly as he took a sip from his glass of whiskey. “Helping around the office.”
“Well make sure she stays out of my way,” Sevika’s voice remained firm as her eyes bore into you. You could feel the intensity of her stare even from across the room.
“Oh, just ignore her and you will be fine,” Silco was starting to get annoyed at this point. “She will not hurt a flea, I assure you. And besides, I hired her so she can do all your scut work. Unless you’d prefer more hours sorting through paperwork, that is.”
Sevika responded with a half-hearted grunt, standing up to return to the harbors.
“Pawns like her won’t last a day,” she spat before slamming the door behind her.
You cleared your throat in the midst of the awkward silence that ensued.
“Is she always like this?” you laughed nervously while stapling together some miscellaneous receipts.
“She’s probably just in one of her moods,” Silco sighed, rubbing the furrow between his brows. “Don’t pay her any mind.”
You decided to brush off her rudeness and let it roll off your back. The next few weeks were quite uneventful. Granted, Sevika did have to mediate a fight that broke out in the middle of the harbors but besides that it was just loading in more shipments and selling off the Shimmer batches that were currently on hand.
One day, Sevika came into the office for what seemed like no reason. She said she “just wanted to check on things”. She peered over your shoulder every now and then to see what you were doing. You could feel her intense, intimidating gaze sear into your back even without her having to say anything to you.
“That calculation is wrong,” she would say, with a certain softness in her voice that you were not expecting from her at all. She reached over your shoulder to point out exactly what she was referring to. “The tariffs from Noxus are slightly higher than other regions. Make sure you tabulate that. I don’t want any unbalanced books.”
Your heart was beating so loudly you were scared it would jump right out of your chest and land onto the table. What made it worse was that she smelled so good… like cherry wood, or a wicker basket. And the slightest scent of cigar smoke and whiskey.
“Y-yes ma’am!” you would blurt out, trying to look composed, but really just coming off as eager. You quickly scratched out your previous number while performing some mental arithmetic to obtain the correct value.
She gave you an approving nod, walking around the office to check that everything else was going swimmingly before pushing through the door and disappearing back into the depths of the undercity.
You finally exhaled, realizing that you had been holding your breath that entire time. The sheer chokehold her presence had over you was unforgivable, but it’s not like you had a choice either way. You were starting to fall for her, even if she barely spoke a few sentences to you.
You almost always looked forward to Sevika’s random visits. Most of the time, she would come in unannounced, and you would frequently be her first stop. You could feel the icy exterior she put up on the first day slowly begin to melt away, revealing truer parts of her soul to you, piece by piece.
“How was your day?” she would ask every now and then, planting her arms on either side of your desk as she leaned over to look at you.
“Um.. good!” you would chirp back. You would try your best to look busy by scribbling some nonsense on your papers, or shuffling around the pens and ink pots. “How about uh, yours?”
She lifted up her shirt to reveal a sizable bruise on her taut stomach. “Could be better,” she said, smirking as she watched your somewhat calm expression devolve into an embarrassed mess.
“Oh yeah, that uh.. looks kind of bad,” you replied, trying to hide your sweaty face with a book you found on the corner of your desk. “You should probably ice that or something.”
Shit shit shit. And of course she had to show off right in front of you without being prompted.
“Yeah, I will,” she reassured, covering her stomach again, fully satisfied that she was able to get you all flustered without even having to do anything.
“G-good!” you stammered out, watching her turn her back and exit the office to talk to Silco.
As soon as she slammed the door behind her, you melted like a pile of goop all over your desk. You covered your hot face with your hands, still attempting without much success to regain any semblance of composure in the aftermath of whatever that was. It was as if she knew exactly what she was doing, like she was trying to get a rise out of you. You felt like a poor doll she was toying with for her own entertainment. But another part of you also sort of loved it? Ugh.
You stayed extra late at the office that evening since there were still so many orders left to process. You decided to call it a night when you somehow got through a very intimidating pile of paperwork. After stretching your arms over your head, you quickly organized all of the stray documents on your desk and blew the last candle out.
You were about to lock up the office until you saw a familiar figure amble towards you. It seemed like Sevika still had some unfinished business to take care of.
“Headed home?” she asked, holding a crate over her shoulder.
“Yeah!” you responded, trying to appear more confident than you actually were. “I was just about to lock up..”
Sevika set down the large box with a ‘thump’, dusting off her hands while she towered over you. “Listen Y/N..” she sighed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while but.. it’s not your fault I gave you the cold shoulder on your first day. I just didn’t trust you yet, but now I know where your true loyalties lie.”
“O-oh don’t even worry about that!” you yelped. “I definitely didn’t know what I was doing at all, and I understand where you were coming from, so it’s totally in the past now, and I also really respected and admired you regardless so let’s just put it behind us and-”
Sevika chuckled as she lifted up the crate over her shoulder again. She moved a bit closer towards you, then rested her mechanical hand on top of your head. “Just don’t work too hard.”
“I won’t!” you squeaked, feeling your heart pound against your chest once again.
“Good girl,” she said after ruffling your hair a bit, and then pushed past you, allowing the doors to close behind her.
You swallowed a lump that built up in your throat before locking the doors and scurrying back home. You wished that the chilly undercity air could cool down your burning hot cheeks, but to no avail. You knew from that moment forward that you were beyond the point of no return when it came to your feelings for her. And somehow, you were more than willing to fall even deeper into them, no matter the cost.
Silco x f!reader
Summary: You accompany Silco to a meeting where... unconventional business tactics are employed.
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, sex, choking, dom/sub, MDNI
ok so. the meeting scene in episode 7 of Arcane?? plays every time i close my eyes. those animators knew exactly what they were doing, and here we are, 7k+ words of utter filth later. it's called coping. (i also did silco dirty in my last post so this is how i make up for it)
You can still smell it.
Barely noticeable at this point, but if you concentrate hard enough it’s there. And despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to free yourself of it.
It had stuck around in the elevator, wafting around and clinging to the three bodies within its metal confines. It had lingered on the way back to the Last Drop, emanating from the pair walking in front of you. And it stuck around even now, hours later – its potent ghost stubbornly attaching itself to your hair, your clothing, and every single thought that filtered through your head.
Your gaze drifts towards the lone ice cube spinning in your empty glass as you swirl it offhandedly — a testament to the amount of time you’ve spent seated in the booth, praying both the scent and your derailing thoughts would be lost to whatever else is floating around in the club’s air and leave you free of their combined torment.
What is it, exactly?
Nothing other than the toxic gas Silco had released during the last-minute Chem Baron assembly earlier in the day. Sure, your lungs had remained free of the poisonous stuff, but your mind did not come out of the ordeal so unaffected.
“This isn’t the type of meeting I would normally have you attend,” he had informed you in his office before his departure.
“I’ve come to plenty of Chem Baron assemblies before, though,” you reasoned.
“Yes, but…” his eyes flicked over to Sevika as she walked in with a sealed box, half-concealed by her red poncho, “The nature of it is… different than what you’re accustomed to.”
“All the more reason for me to come along then, right?” You had quipped back innocently, unsure why he seemed so reluctant to bring you along.
The pair exchanged a look you weren’t familiar with, ever the silent communicators. Sevika offered a noncommittal shrug, indifferent to whichever outcome Silco decided on. She knew of your relationship with the Industrialist and as far as she was concerned, if it’s not business, it’s not her business. She was also aware you worked on the logistical side of things and often came along to meetings, but she knew that Silco liked to keep you away from the more unpleasant side of his dealings.
“He wants to keep you safe. He’s worried if you see that shit, you’ll get scared off,” she told you once, after you had expressed your irritation at being ordered to go back to the club when it seemed like a deal was about to go south.
“If you insist,” Silco relented before a small smile tugged the corner of his lips when you reached for your notebook, “But leave that. You won’t be taking minutes today.”
He ignored your quizzical look, and Sevika offered no explanation either – only an amused smirk that matched his own as she lifted the box’s lid, allowing Silco to confirm the contents within. All you got was another cynical smile at your futile attempt to peer into it, blocked by his tall frame.
“You’ll see, darling,” was all he had said, and the three of you were off.
The ice cube is little more than a translucent speck when the shaking of your head attempts to dispel the recent memory, and you groan in frustration at having succumbed to it once again.
Most people’s irritation in circumstances such as this would stem from discomfort; wrinkled noses, watery eyes and ragged throats as a consequence of the noxious fumes.
Your affliction, however, is a different kind altogether.
Sure, the smell isn’t exceedingly pleasant, but neither is most of Zaun’s air. And yes, it elicits a stray cough here and there, but with the amount of smoke constantly floating around the club it’s barely noticeable.
As it happens, your current problem is that you are undeniably, ridiculously, infuriatingly turned on. And the culprit for your current state is upstairs, none the wiser.
The more you think about it, the more your frustrations grow.
On one hand, yes, it was your own fault. You had insisted on coming along to the meeting despite the little voice in your head telling you there was a reason Silco hadn’t explicitly asked you to attend.
On the other hand, though, what gave him the right? A show of power is one thing. You had expected as much when you learnt some Chem Barons had all but demanded his presence at a meeting organised without him present. But the idea was that they should have been the ones left out of breath and full of regret, not you.
It seems you were doomed from the very start.
The elevator’s ascent had been distinguished by a steely silence, to the point that you could almost hear Silco’s thoughts churning in his head. His anger was clearly piqued, evident by the tense set of his jaw and hard look in his eyes, which you were struggling to avert your gaze from.
So preoccupied by your personal task, you hadn’t even registered the elevator doors opening until a firm tug on your arm, courtesy of Sevika, brought you back to reality.
“Stay next to me and don’t say a word,” she whispered in your ear.
You were barely able to respond with a confused okay before the doors to the meeting room were pushed open, and you didn’t have to see Silco’s face to know the expression painted on it was one of dangerous scorn. Immediately, the tension between Silco and Finn unfurled across the space between them like a table runner, and the tattooed man (either too careless or too stupid to heed the warning), ignored him while going on about cut profits and border shutdowns — a sentiment shared by the other bodies present in the room.
You did have to hand it to him; he was extraordinarily skilled at finding the quickest way to detonate Silco’s fuse.
Consequently, you had been so preoccupied in bracing yourself for the imminent explosion that you missed Sevika disappearing from your side until she was nudging a gas mask into your hands, and you were distantly aware of the large fan overhead creaking to a slow stop.
A look of confusion shot her way was promptly ignored while she secured her own device and you followed suit, albeit with some hesitation.
You sigh into your now empty glass, slamming it down onto the coaster in a last ditch attempt to evict the unconstructive thoughts from your head, but it’s no good.
So, you humour temptation and allow yourself to give up.
It’s exceedingly easy, and as soon as you open the floodgates it seems your thoughts are at war with each other to see which one can drown you first.
First is the taunting grain of his voice, followed by the tantalisingly smug smirk that crept across his face just as smoothly as his deft fingers had dragged over the intricate box. It was like the anger had melted right off the rigid set of his shoulders, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.
That leads you to the second recollection. His eyes may be of contrasting hues, but the flicker of sadistic glee that had ignited in them was a flame born of the same ember, burning brighter with each strained cough and plea for mercy that echoed around the assembly chamber.
Then, the monologue. There was something utterly enrapturing about watching him speak so casually while everyone else in the room struggled for air. The smooth tenor of his voice, the borderline predatory way in which he walked, the nonchalance with which he handed out lifelines to the other Barons…
It made you very grateful your face was partially obscured. The gas was one thing, but the uncontrollable slackening of your jaw was a completely different story.
By the time he had finally strolled towards Finn, you were a goner. It also proved too much for the younger man, and when he fell to the ground Silco’s eyes had flicked towards you for a brief second and you wondered if he could tell Finn wasn’t the only one in the room whose knees had gone weak.
You may as well have never had a mask in the first place, because when Silco finally took pity on the begging mess at his feet, the sight of him taking an indulgent, taunting breath (punctuated by the cruellest of smirks that sharpened every eye-catching feature of his face) just about cut off all the oxygen to your brain anyway.
The fan’s blades were in full motion when you finally regained your wits, following Sevika and a very self-satisfied Silco through the doors, down the elevator and back to the Last Drop. It hadn’t been a very comfortable walk, to say the least. And it certainly didn’t help that he had kept glancing back at you, as if he just knew every damning thought that was coursing through your head (and other parts of your body that weren’t so geared towards thinking).
The sudden thudding sound of dense glass on wood has you dispelling the cloud of your daydream and the waning fog reveals Sevika as she takes a seat opposite you, popping the cork off her bottle with the push of a bionic thumb.
“Silco asked for you.”
You try to keep your expression concealed as you slide out of the booth. Yes, you could have followed him upstairs when you had arrived, but the last thing you wanted was to have to sit in a room with him, trying to push away all the thoughts that had been clouding your mind, with company.
Your trip up the stairs is characterised by wondering how you’ll actually go about telling him what’s been on your mind.
Hey, remember when you nearly suffocated a room full of people today without laying a finger on them? That was, like, really hot.
Yeah, maybe not.
A moment of hesitation before you climb the stairs has you glancing back at Sevika, and you swear you catch the tail-end of a smirk on her lips, but it’s quickly obscured by the bottle as it’s brought up — perhaps a touch too quickly — to her mouth.
It seems you aren’t the only one who has been entertaining an empty glass.
When you enter Silco’s office, you open the door to reveal him swirling what remains of an ice cube in a tumbler far more intricate than what’s on offer behind the bar.
He is seated on the couch, so you are only privy to half his face — the unscarred side — and you can’t help but stare, wide-eyed, at how the glow of the window casts his silhouette in darkness and highlights the green of his iris. His head tilts ever so slightly at your arrival, offering you just a glimpse of fiery red that stays steadily on you as you take a seat next to him.
“How are you feeling?”
His cool voice snaps you out of your stupor, but it does little to shake the thoughts that had been plaguing you downstairs. If anything, his voice — and presence — exacerbates them.
“Um, fine, I guess?” you respond, praying he doesn’t pick up on anything.
It seems no god is bothered with your wishes, evident by the way he appraises you for several seconds before a firm line of tension sets his jaw.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Your eyes widen for a brief moment, worried that he caught you out so quickly. Surely it’s not that obvious.
“I- I’m not lying,” you say too quickly. “There’s nothing… wrong.”
The methodical lift of one eyebrow matches the pace at which you trail off, and you can’t tell which of you is more unconvinced by your words.
He keeps you held firmly under his gaze and you hate your brain for how quickly it conjures the image of him doing the same thing during the meeting. You then hate yourself even more for wishing you had done something wrong, if only to prolong it.
What you don’t expect, though (and what doesn’t help your current situation in the slightest), is how the tension vanishes as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the slightest downward tilt of his eyebrows and a marginally softer voice that could almost be classified as concern.
“Was it the gas? You should have left the room if you were feeling unwell.”
“No, no, the mask worked fine,” you assure him, “I caught a whiff of it when we were leaving but it was barely there at that point.”
His eyes scan over you in an attempt to find any abnormalities, clearly unconvinced.
“There’s something bothering you.”
It’s not a question or a guess. Rather, it’s an accusation and a silent order to elaborate.
Your eyes shift to the shelf lodged against the wall, suddenly developing a keen interest in the various books that line the wooden slats. You start to wonder if Silco — or anyone, for that matter — ever reads them. Probably not, judging by the sheet of dust that coats them, but perhaps it would be worth opening one up someday. From what you can see, they seem to be on various worldly topics: politics, history, wars, and so forth. It would surely be a waste to just leave—
A stern call of your name derails your train of thought, redirecting it back to a very unamused Silco, who offers little more than a glower at your drifting conscience and fleeting attention span.
Your brain takes a second to catch up with the rest of you, culminating in a rather unintelligent, “Huh?” much to his chagrin. His patience is clearly hanging by a thread, and you fear you won’t have the time to string together a half-believable excuse.
“Well?” Silco asks lowly, and though you’ve grown accustomed to jokingly testing him when it’s just the two of you, it’s not such a fun game to play when you’re trying to herd him around the subject.
“You,” you blurt out without even thinking.
Your haste to give him any kind of answer instead digs the hole you’re stuck in even deeper.
“Wait. Fuck. No, I didn’t mean you, just—”
“I should have told you to stay here.”
You wince at his scorn before realising he’s no longer directing his words at you. Instead, his eyes are fixated on the ground, obscured by his fingers when they go to pinch the skin between his eyebrows.
A lengthy silence fills the office, blowing up like a balloon and threatening to burst with each passing second.
“Silco,” you murmur tentatively, grazing his hand with your own.
“Did I scare you?”
The question grounds you, sucking all the air out of the room and leaving you staring at him with unblinking eyes as his question promptly stops the cogs in your brain.
Once again, all you can muster is a soft, “Huh?” but the lines that appear on his face are more akin to worry than vexation.
“During the meeting. Were you scared?”
You finally find your voice, “What are you— why would I have been scared?”
“You weren’t doing a good job of hiding it,” he says with a hint of venom, casting his gaze to the side when you don’t offer a response.
Unsatisfied, he stands abruptly and reaches the drinks cart by the wall in a few quick strides, tumbler in hand.
“You didn’t so much as blink and you barely spoke a word during the walk back to the club,” he says to the wall, punctuated by the cracking of fresh ice cubes and the steady pour of whiskey.
Finally, he turns, “And when we did arrive you immediately diverted towards the bar when you normally accompany me upstairs of your own volition.”
The end of his rant is punctuated by a tense sip, followed by the immediate raking of fingers through his hair. His stance — stiff shoulders, rigid jaw and the occasional twitch of lips — is a mirror to what you saw in the elevator before the meeting.
It takes your brain a second to catch up with the reality of things, and when it finally does, you just can’t help the ensuing reaction.
You laugh. Loud enough to surprise yourself with the sudden sound, and certainly loud enough to shift Silco’s glare away from the floor and upwards to you.
“I wasn’t scared, Silco,” you affirm, stifling the giggle threatening to erupt from your throat.
Evidently, he does not appreciate your reaction.
“I told you,” he says lowly. “Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” you say through a poorly-hid grin.
His sour look slowly wipes away your amusement, and after schooling your expression and piecing everything together, you coax him back down to the couch with the offer of an extended hand.
Albeit cautiously, he takes it, clearly not as up to speed with things as you are.
“I wasn’t scared,” you repeat, tenderly rubbing one of his shoulders as you try to land on the right word. “I was… impressed.”
His right eye is unblinking as it stares you down, unwilling to let you see what thoughts are swirling around behind it.
Ironically, he sounds decidedly un impressed with your response, quickly deciding he needs another mouthful of his drink if he’s to go one with this conversation.
“Do I really have to ask you to elaborate?”
“You can’t just take my word for it?” you ask, and the following silence is perhaps the loudest you’ve ever experienced.
“Okay, it’s just… you had the entire room under your thumb, literally gasping for air while you were breathing in poison like it was nothing. Reminding them they work for you; making them beg you to let them live. Anyone would call that impressive, Silco.”
You don’t know when to stop, and he doesn’t interject so you let yourself continue rambling, “The way you were acting, the way you were talking — I couldn’t stop staring. So yeah, maybe my eyes were wider than usual, and maybe I wasn’t as talkative, and maybe I needed to sit down, but can you blame me? You looked so powerful, so good — so damn good — that I… well, I was very impressed. Among other things.”
Silco says nothing, letting your confession sink in and you don’t know exactly what to expect when you look up to meet his gaze. Disbelief, confusion, maybe even humour. But when your eyes level with his, the rings of flame and sea are ravenous.
You could get used to being wrong, if this is the payoff.
His voice is a double-edged sword of rich, smooth velvet and rough gravel when he finally speaks, carefully but with endless intent, “So you truly weren’t frightened?”
Clearly, words aren’t enough for him. You reach for the glass and purposefully graze his fingers with your own as they tug in a silent request. He relents, allowing you to take it and you can’t say you don’t relish the twitch of his good eye when you purposefully turn it before drinking, so that your lips touch the exact part of the rim that his did.
“Do you really care that much if I was scared or not?”
His chest rises with a deep breath despite his face remaining decidedly impassive, “Because it will very much determine how soon I let you leave this room.”
The intent behind his words leaves no room for misinterpretation.
You tilt your head up slightly so that you can hold his gaze, letting a grin creep across your face as you do, “Then I suppose I should get comfortable.”
It seems he took your words to heart, if the way mouth melds with yours is anything to go by. Your hands drag up his chest, over his shoulders and around the back of his neck where your thumbs graze the short hairs at the base of his head. His own hands move to your waist, pressing through the thin material of your shirt and pulling you closer against him while his mouth drags across your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. One of his hands goes to your head and balls in your hair, tugging downwards to fully expose your neck and nip at the skin, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes you.
“Careful now,” he murmurs and you can feel the smug grin pressing into you, “I might get the impression that you’re enjoying this.”
A response is on the tip of your tongue, but then his is soothing the redness of the bite he left and any desire to speak melts away.
There’s no denying the heat pooling between your legs as his mouth sucks a bruise over your pulse point before dragging to the other side of your neck and giving it the same treatment.
“Do I really need to spell it out for you again?” you finally manage.
“I won’t stop you.”
You let out a sigh of pleasure as his mouth finds your jawline, making it very difficult to string together a coherent sentence.
“Well, some may even say I was… enraptured.”
“Go on,” he all but growls out, teeth finding your skin.
Your hair is yanked to grant him access to your jugular.
The heat of his breath ghosts your skin; a precursor to his tongue licking a stripe upwards until it meets your open mouth, swallowing the moan building up in your throat in a kiss with more fervour than its predecessor. You melt into his touch, unlocking your fingers and trailing your hands across his shoulders before dragging them down his arms and across his chest, indulging yourself in the contact that you had been waiting for all day.
Your hands cup either side of his jaw, allowing you to hold his head in place as you all but moan into his mouth, “Tell me next time someone undermines you. I’d love to see the show again.”
“You’re making me regret not having done it sooner.”
“So you were trying to protect me?”
Your only response is a deep rumble from his throat, paired with the fingers at your waist pressing in deeper and you know that the next few days will consist of you looking at the bruises dotting your body with an indulgent smile.
Now it’s your turn to pull back, and you don’t miss the twitch of his hips as you kiss up his jawline and bring his earlobe between your teeth, “It’s very endearing, Silco, but you should know by now I don’t break that easily.”
If you thought there was a fire in his eyes before, it’s an inferno now; a swirl of red flames erupting from the corrupted iris that had entranced you from the moment you first saw it, and you can only imagine that the sight is reflected in your own eyes.
“Don’t tempt me, darling,” he says in a velvety voice that shoots every last ember down to your core.
“Really? After you’ve spent all day tempting me?”
“Tempting you?” he goads. “How so?”
The last thing the smug bastard needs is more elaboration, but you don’t want anything else to be left up to interpretation. It’s with that in mind you slide your hands from his jaw back down to his shoulders, sliding into his lap so that you’re straddling him on the couch.
You press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, “If we were alone in that elevator, I would’ve been on my knees the second the door shut.”
You had thought the self-satisfied smirk that stretched across Silco’s face when Finn begged for air at his feet was the final nail in your coffin, but it has absolutely nothing on the predatory curl of his lips at your whispered confession.
“We’re alone now.”
It’s all you need to drag your hands down to his hips, pressing one more lingering kiss to his lips before trailing them down his neck and sinking down to your knees. You had felt as much, but you can’t stop the way your eyes widen at the sight of his pants straining. Unable to resist, one hand comes down to squeeze his clothed length, and the groan that he tries to stifle immediately shoots straight through you.
“Don’t tease me, sweetheart,” he warns.
An innocent little smile twists your lips before you go to undo the four gold buttons of his pants, perhaps a little slower than necessary.
“I know,” you interject.
“I wouldn’t dream of disobeying you, sir,” you say with a cheeky grin.
Your thumbs curl under the waistband of his pants, lingering just enough to earn you another glare that is washed away as soon as you tug downwards, and you don’t need to look up to know the smug little smirk that’s been making your day a living nightmare has made a reappearance.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”
Deciding he’s spoken enough for now, you flick your eyes up towards his and hold his gaze, gripping his cock and licking a line from base to tip. The action transfers the smirk from his mouth to your own, though it’s warped by your tongue poking out to lavish his head with kitten licks that earn you another groan, quickly followed by a hand pressing into your hair.
“Last chance,” he threatens and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as you swirl your tongue around him.
Feeling merciful, you set a pace of bobbing your head, taking him further with each movement. He feels heavenly, and each moan that erupts from your throat transfers to him, despite his best efforts to stifle them.
You know he’s caught the cocky glint in your eyes by the way his hand tightens in your hair, pulling so that his length hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the mewl that escapes you as the dominant side of him you’ve been all but drooling over all day is finally aimed at you.
Concern drips from his voice, but the crook of his lips tells an entirely different story.
“Was the gas not enough for you, sweetheart? Did you wish you were choking on something else during that meeting?”
You nod as best you can, squeezing your eyes shut when tears begin to well.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs in the same tone, free hand going to cup your cheek.
You almost fall for the tender touch. Then, he’s using that same hand to grip your chin while the fingers in your hair tug harder, and it takes everything in you not to gag on him.
Your hands dig into his thighs, scratching the material of his pants with every thrust of his cock in your mouth. You want to beg, to scream his name and tell him how utterly desperate you are for him, but all you can do is moan around him as a mixture of tears and saliva falls down your chin.
His thrusts start to turn more erratic and his words grow filthier; a clear sign he’s about to reach his high.
“Next time we’re alone in that elevator, I’m going to take you just like this—”
A sudden but welcome lungful of air gives you a moment of clearheadedness when he yanks you back so that just the head of his cock remains in your mouth.
“Have you on your knees, where you belong—”
It seems to be your sole mercy for the time being, though, because he’s yanking you forward again before you can take a second breath.
“And use that mouth for the only thing it’s good for—”
You trap his head against the roof of your mouth with your tongue and suck. Never one to be outdone, the hand cupping your jaw squeezes tighter, pulling until your nose is brushing against him.
“But you would like that wouldn’t you? You filthy, desperate girl—”
Your throat flexes around him and it’s all he needs to bury himself there and throw his head back over the couch’s backrest with a groan he can’t hope to contain as he comes in your mouth, keeping you in place as you swallow around him and only pulling you off when you’ve taken every last drop.
Your breathing has barely returned to normal when he beckons you with the graze of a thumb at your chin. The remnants of tears paint everything in a light haze, but you can make out that he has discarded his vest.
“Get up and strip,” he orders while tucking himself back in and re-buttoning his pants.
Still a bit out of it, you stare up at him with unblinking eyes — something he does not appreciate, and just like in the meeting he almost looks bored as he chastises you.
“If I have to repeat myself one more time tonight I’m going to edge you every night from now until the next Chem Baron assembly, and you’re not going to finish once.”
In all the time you’ve known Silco — every meeting you’ve attended, every deal you’ve listened in on, every exchange you’ve been present for — he has not bluffed once. It’s with that in mind you shoot up to your feet, much too abruptly for your legs’ liking. His hand on your waist is quick to stabilise you, and the tantalisingly smug smile he gives you is almost enough to send you back to your knees again.
Your shirt is then quickly tugged over your head, followed by your boots as they’re kicked off, and your pants pooling on the floor. Your hands then go to your bra, but you can’t help the small quirk of your lips when a better idea pops into your head.
Resuming your original position on his lap, you look to him for permission before continuing. When he says nothing – only answering with the slightest of nods and a single raised eyebrow – you bring his hands to the clasps of your bra and remove his tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt after the silken fabric is tossed on the cushions next to you.
“Can I tell you exactly when my problems started today?” you hum against him, leaving kisses around his collarbone.
You feel the rumbling of his chest beneath you before it leaves him in a breathy, “Hmm?”
“When you ran your fingers over that damn box… I couldn’t look away.”
The tension of the straps lessen and you shrug yourself out of the garment, letting out a sigh when his hands trace your ribs, barely grazing your breasts in a silent order to continue.
“And all I could think about was how I couldn’t wait for those idiots to stop talking so you could take me home and do the same to me.”
You spare a glance upwards.
That's the only word your mind has time to conjure before his hands grip your hips in a bruising hold, lifting you up and turning you so that your back is to his front before you can even react.
Your question (and any subsequent thought that might follow) is promptly cut off by the fingers pinching your nipple and the teeth dragging along the juncture of your neck and shoulder.
“So while I was reminding a room of ingrates who runs this empire,” he hisses into your ear and you just know you can never wear these panties again, “ You were thinking of my fingers?”
You know you should just say yes and tell him what he wants to hear. But where’s the fun in that?
“Don’t be r-ridiculous. I was thinking of coming on your fingers—”
Two of those same digits promptly find a home in your mouth, gagging you while his hand seeks your other breast, pinching again until your whimpers die on his knuckles.
“I’m going to remove my hand,” he says with an utterly lethal glower, “and you’re going to tell me exactly what depraved thoughts were going through that filthy mind of yours. Without attitude.”
You nod desperately, gagging when his fingers go deeper.
He slides them out slowly and you’re not even given the chance to fill your lungs before that same hand curls around your neck.
He squeezes tighter.
“Yes, sir,” you whimper, taking a long — but shaky — breath when he releases you.
“And don’t forget what I said about repeating myself.”
His lips are a scythe where they press into your shoulder blade.
Not one sound comes out of you as Silco’s hands rest under the curve of your breasts. It takes several more seconds for you to realise he’s waiting, and now is decidedly not the time to be testing his patience.
“I imagined your hands everywhere…” you begin, shuddering as the very tips of his nails evoke goosebumps where they graze your skin.
“I imagined them in my hair… my mouth… around my throat.”
“It seems I read your mind, then. Where else?”
“Squeezing my chest…”
You gasp as his hands do just that, tilting your head to the side when he starts to press kisses along the side of your neck.
“And then… going lower…”
More goosebumps blossom on your stomach.
Despite the knowledge of exactly what’s to come, your breath catches at the sudden pressure from his fingers on your hips, replacing the shivering skin with a redness that will surely darken over the coming days.
“More bruising,” he corrects.
You murmur your agreement, lost in the contrast of his malefic fingers and heavenly mouth. Then, you remember the promise he made, blurred between the lines of a threat.
“Not just above the waist.”
“Thighs, too,” you say, blushing.
He traces the curve of your hips, stopping just below.
“N-no,” you interject when he starts to apply pressure there.
“Inner thighs,” you clarify, feeling the redness spread down your neck.
The sickle-like smirk slashes you again, just below your ear.
“Filthy,” he repeats, hands snaking between your legs to part them slowly.
Agonisingly slow, actually. But you made the mistake of telling Silco to hurry up once, and there is no force in this world that could even make you consider saying it again.
Finally, he presses into the skin there, knuckles barely grazing your still-clothed core and the instant twitch of your hips is beyond your control.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Want me to touch somewhere else?”
“Y-yes, please, Silco,” you whine.
“And how do you expect me to know that if you don’t say it?” he retorts, tone going from sweet to venomous in a heartbeat, matched by the borderline painful sensation of his fingers digging into your thighs.
You wince before forcing yourself to keep going, lest this be your reality for the next month.
“I i-imagined you fucking me with your fingers.”
“And did I remove these beforehand?” he inquires, pulling back the elastic of your panties and smirking at the yelp you let out when it snaps back.
Your head is telling you to lie. Your body is screaming at you to lie, but you know that he will know if you do.
He huffs a laugh — a cynical little puff of air, more than anything — and you’re almost convinced he could hear your internal deliberation. But then his hands are snaking down your panties and you toss all thoughts of potential telepathy out the window.
“Y-you touched my clit first,” you manage, digging your hands into the couch cushions when his finger immediately starts rubbing there.
“Then slipped a finger in— oh, fuck,” you sob, legs twitching the second you finally get the attention you need.
“And then?” he prompts, but you’re at a loss.
You turn your head so that it’s half-facing him, eyeing the quirk of his mouth when he takes in the hopeless expression on your face, “I- I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
You shake your head, biting your tongue when his hand ceases all movement, “If I’m being honest, you were done with the box. I got distracted… started thinking of something else…”
“And are you going to tell me about that fantasy, too?”
Despite the vast majority of neurons in your brain focusing on the fire between your legs, you manage one little smirk, “Tell you? I just showed you.”
The smile vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared, contorted into something more befitting the sudden sob of Silco’s name when two fingers breach your entrance and one resumes its previous actions on your clit.
“It’s alright, darling. I think I get the picture now.”
You throw your head back and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to lavish your neck with open-mouthed kisses, smirking against you at each plea and cry that falls from your mouth.
A third finger, and the knot in your stomach is pulled tighter and tighter, until his name is an incomprehensible string of whines and moans on your lips. He shifts the angle, curling them just right and the band snaps. You twist your torso to turn and clutch onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and burying your head in the crook of his neck as his hand continues its work, carrying you through your climax while its twin tenderly rubs the nape of your neck.
He keeps you like that, until your hips have ceased their bucking and your breathing has slowed to a normal pace. You whine when he pulls his fingers out, staring wide-eyed as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean without dropping your gaze.
His hands then go back to your hips and you all but melt into his soothing touch when he begins to rub tender circles into the skin.
“Can you stand, lovely?” he murmurs gently into your ear.
Your head turns slightly to the side, so that your lips brush when you answer, “I think so.”
The pressure of his hands and the feline curl of his mouth are immediate.
“Good,” he says, void of the warmth he had spoken with only a heartbeat earlier. “Desk. Now.”
His hands stay on you as you stand yourself on shaky legs, only leaving when you begin to walk towards the ornate desk (but not before he places a single kiss on your middle back). There’s a good chance it has something to do with the current state of your lower body, but that damn piece of furniture has never felt so far away.
So lost in your frustrations, you hadn’t even heard the clicking of his boots behind you, and you had barely turned around before his long arms were slotted against the surface, caging you against the wooden structure.
“On the desk.”
You comply without pause, gasping when he cups the swell of your ass and pulls you flush against him so that you can feel the hardness beneath his pants once again. The ensuing grinding on your part is quickly halted by his hands hooking under the waistband of your panties as he steps back and pulls them off.
There truly are not enough words to properly capture the depth of the shit-eating grin that unfurls under Silco’s nose, only growing when the redness of your cheeks darkens in response to one hooded eye flicking between the garment, your face, and the mess between your legs.
Letting them fall to the floor when he’s had his fill of your chagrin, he leans over you once again, until his hands are covering yours and his mouth has reunited with your jawline.
He hums in response to your call of his name, which came out as more of a broken string of syllables than anything else.
“Please, what?” he inquires innocently, grinding against you just enough to evoke another cry.
“Please touch me.”
His fingers trace a path down your sternum, “I’m touching you now, aren’t I?”
Green and red flick up to garner your reaction. You meet them just in time to catch the briefest shade of surprise saturating their hues when your hands shoot out from under his, finding his shirt collar and gripping with every ounce of frustration that has been piling on you since the moment you exited that damn elevator.
“Please, Silco, I need you so bad,” you beg, not caring how desperate you sound. “I haven’t been able to go more than thirty seconds without thinking about your cock inside me and I can’t take it anymore, so please, please just fuck me already.”
Your back hits the table first, quickly followed by your wrists when they meet the same fate above your head, held firmly in his one-handed grip while the other goes directly to the buttons of his pants.
Unsurprisingly, he undoes them much quicker than you had, tugging them down and freeing his cock.
You’re still whispering pleas and calls of his name when he slides into you, filling you entirely in one quick movement. The action rips an utterly animalistic sound out of you, and he wastes no time in pressing his newly freed hand to your lower stomach while the other flexes against your constrained wrists. Clearly, your words had affected him.
“O-oh gods, you feel so good, so fucking good,” you moan under his ministrations.
“And here I was thinking I couldn’t take you to these things because it’s dangerous,” he finishes with a harsh thrust, “but the reality is that you can’t even behave.”
He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back into you and setting a brutal pace that has your thighs shaking and your back arching. Not wasting a second, his mouth follows the path his finger had etched moments before, wrapping around a nipple and sucking softly in a delicious contrast to the ruthless motion of his hips.
“I couldn’t — fuck — help it.”
“Oh, I can see that, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your breast, digging his teeth into the soft skin and hissing when you clench around his length.
You know you won’t be able to sit without wincing tomorrow, but that doesn’t stop you from hooking your ankles against his waist and pulling him deeper into you.
“Desperate little whore,” he grunts, bringing both his hands to your hips while straightening up to stand over you, and the change in angle has you screaming his name without a single care for whoever might be close enough to hear.
“Forget the elevator,” he hisses. “Next time we’re in that room, I’m bending you over the table.”
The utter filth spewing from his mouth, coupled with the loose strands of hair framing the feral look in his eyes lights a crackling wildfire under the expanse of your skin.
“Silco,” you all but sob as the flames creep towards the knot in your stomach as it starts to tighten once again, “I’m s-so close.”
“Beg,” he orders, fingers immediately finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around it.
“Please, Silco. Please, let me come, I can’t f-fucking take it anymore and you — ah! — you fuck me so, so good and I need to come, ple—”
The pace of his hips and rhythm of his fingers immediately increases, cutting you off and turning the rest of your words into incomprehensible moans.
“So obedient today,” he says through a crooked grin. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”
Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, evoking more broken sounds of pleasure. Your arms immediately wrap around him, desperate for an anchor as one splays across his back and the other clutches at the back of his neck.
Silco fucks you through it relentlessly, until his pace starts to falter and he’s burying himself deep inside you, elbows planted next to your head as his own climax takes over. His groans and sighs of your name are lost on your tongue as he drags his mouth to yours, kissing you until you’re leaking his release and his shirt is indented with crescents in the shape of your nails.
Echoes of good girl and that’s it seep into the silence that is otherwise filled by your hammering heartbeat, slowly drowning the thrumming out until it has resumed its placid rhythm in your chest.
His breath comes back to him first, felt in a lengthy exhale that caresses your neck while he pulls out of you with a low hiss, hushing you when the grip on his back tightens.
“It’s okay, darling,” he murmurs against your collarbone. “Are you alright?”
You give a barely-audible hum of confirmation.
“Words, my love,” he says softly while grazing a hand through your hair.
“...I’m alright,” you murmur, losing yourself to the gentle touch while more praises and sweet words are whispered into your skin in unison with the soft kisses being placed on the various marks and bruises dotting your body.
Your own hands eventually leave his shirt and entwine in his hair, smoothing back the mussed strands and relishing the hushed sounds of contentment the motion evokes. You have no idea how long the two of you stay like that for, just basking in each other’s quiet presence.
A soft call of your name breaks the silence.
Though you can’t see it, there’s no mistaking his sharp little smirk as it once again makes a reappearance against your skin.
“We have another meeting in—” a glance to the clock behind him, “—one hour. Shall I postpone it?”
You can’t fight the little smile that curls the corners of your lips, “I would appreciate it.”
The Mad Scientist's Assistant (Silco x Reader)
Chapter 1—The Mad Scientist
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI
Tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, References to Drugs, mention of child death, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn,
Chapter word count: 3.2k
Total word count: 3.2k
You had always been a curious child. You asked lots of questions—much to the chagrin of your parents—and never seemed to shut up. They supported you as best as they could until their deaths. You were seven.
The Undercity is a cold and lonely place. You built up your walls after heartbreak and swore off meaningful connections with people. You sought solace in science, alchemy, and tinkering with things you shouldn’t.
It’s not until you meet the most beautiful Waverider, the man who was her keeper, and that man’s employer, that you realize maybe you wanted something more out of life in Zaun.
You had always been a curious child. You took apart your toys and put them back together again. Then, you’d take them apart once more to see if you could rebuild them in a different configuration. You broke a lot of toys this way, but also made a lot of new ones. It kept you occupied, seeing as you had no friends to speak of.
You asked lots of questions—much to the chagrin of your parents—and never seemed to shut up. “Precocious” was a word you learned early, both because you had a knack for picking up vocabulary and also because you heard it in reference to yourself constantly. Your parents were supportive, at least as supportive as anyone who lived in the Lanes could be. Formal education wasn’t exactly flourishing in the Undercity, but they encouraged your open, curiosity-driven mind when they could.
Up until their deaths.
You would say their deaths were “untimely,” but survival is never a guarantee in Zaun; every day is just one more opportunity for you to meet your own end. That was another thing you learned early. At the tender age of seven.
You did what any other Zaunite would do in the face of overwhelming odds: fight. With fellow orphans, you’d steal food, money, and clothes; get in fights with kids twice your size; and learn how to wield a weapon. The older you got, the better you got at fighting. But as the years would pass, so would your peers. One by one, the black hand of death reached out to them in some form or fashion.
Getting mixed in with the wrong crowd.
Starting a fight they couldn’t finish.
Mistiming a jump from one roof to another.
Getting caught in the crossfires of some turf war.
Disease from the Fissures.
Death came for all of them in the end. And just like that, you were alone again. Nothing to keep you company but your gadgets and experiments. So you tucked yourself away in a far off corner of the smoke-filled city to learn what you could about this ridiculous, cruel, uncaring world.
Your teenage years were spent pushing your limits, honing your skills in fighting and weaponry—a direct response to witnessing all your friends’ deaths. You refused to join their numbers. The gods themselves would have to take you down, because you weren’t going to allow it. You were especially skilled with firearms and never left home without your pistol.
Your twenties were spent looting and raiding Piltover. You never went for the usual goods of jewelry or expensive—but equally useless—junk. No, that curious brain of yours hungered for information. You raided labs for materials and equipment; homes and even libraries for books on any subject matter (though you especially loved when you could find any on alchemy). You weren’t interested in what you could trade for money, only what you could trade for knowledge.
You kept oddjobs to make ends meet and put food on the table, a roof over your head. But your passion lay in creation. You built innumerable gadgets, ranging from weapons to mechanisms to help with the mundane tasks of daily life.
You dipped your toe into biology, dissecting the local fauna to see what made them tick and if there was anything to gain from their parts. Some might have found it cruel; you found it enlightening.
With the decade prior being one of complete isolation, you began to feel a gentle tug: the tiny, soft yearning for companionship. You thought that maybe now you could open yourself up to that again. Your peers clearly knew how to handle themselves if they had survived in the Lanes this long. And somehow, despite your twisted nature, you managed to actually find someone.
Someone as wicked as you. Someone who saw the world in the same nihilistic way you did. They showed you all that Zaun life had to offer. They taught you what it meant to want someone unequivocally, unconditionally. They chipped away, day by day, at the walls you had built around yourself, so that you could be the fullest version of yourself: naked, vulnerable, yet resolutely unafraid. Both of you laying yourselves bare for the other so that there was no question how deep and whole your acceptance of each other, scars and all.
But, in the end, they left you, too.
So you turned back to your studies.
You didn't need friends. Or family. Or lovers. You only needed something to occupy your mind. To take apart and put back together. So you’d often wander the Lanes and its surrounding areas in search of unique plant life and animals to focus your attention on.
It was on such an excursion—a few years into your fourth decade—that you came across the most unique creature you’d ever discovered and the man that was her keeper.
Out by the ravine, where the Zaunite kids were spending their summer jumping into the water in a desperate attempt to cool off, you roam with your satchel at your hip, pistol in its holster, and notebook in hand.
You had already sketched and mapped out every form of vegetation you had seen in the area, but hoped to maybe find something new. Maybe a new insect? A different species of fish? Anything to spark your interest. Just as you were about to call it a day, your foot lands in something sticky.
You look down at your boot to see a small puddle of purple, not two inches in diameter. It shines brightly in the light, but not only that, it seemed to be glowing.
Crouching to a squat, you look closer at the liquid. It didn’t quite look like Shimmer. While you yourself swore that you’d never touch the stuff—too many bad memories—you knew what it looked like. But this on the ground did not look the same. Whereas Shimmer had the consistency of water and easily packed into a syringe’s needle, this looked more viscous. Like sludge or a mucus. The smell wasn’t the same either.
Raising your head, you see another puddle, about the same size. You follow it to find more purple blobs, growing in size as you go along. Your eyes track the liquid trail to see the entrance to a cave. Never one to deny your curiosity, you make your way in, one hand clutching your notebook, the other poised at your side next to your pistol.
What greets you is the most fascinating laboratory you’ve ever laid eyes on. You had seen so many in your years of breaking into Topsider ones, but they couldn’t compare to this.
Whereas Piltover labs were clinical, stale, and uninspired, this one felt almost alive, like it had grown from the very cave it rested in. Every part of the lab was built directly into the walls of the cave, designed perfectly to fit its jagged, organic shapes. The shelves—built right into the rock—contain countless vials filled with beautiful neon-colored liquids; models and skeletons of various species; and books of all shapes and sizes, some titles familiar to you, but others you’d never heard of before. Some of the spines looked to belong to manuscripts, clearly not produced by some Piltovian printing company, but rather written by the author themselves in ink and possibly blood.
You turn to see giant steel cylinders, their height reaching just below the ceiling of the cave, their contents gurgling with glowing and bubbling green liquid. The edges are rusted and worn, no doubt due to years of use. Following the pipes of one such silo, your eyes widen and your jaw drops at the sight of a large glass tank. In it, suspended in the same green liquid, sleeps the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen.
Gecko-like in shape, but measuring at least 12 feet long, you recognize this animal as a Waverider, though this one looked to be a different color than the one you had seen in your studies. You’d seen illustrations of them in your books, but never got to see one up-close, being so far from their natural habitat in the Reefs. Whereas your textbooks featured Waveriders in colors of red, crimson, and brown, this particular one was predominantly pink and purple. And while the green hue of the liquid made it a little difficult to see, you thought you could make out a patch of bright blue, glowing from within her belly. Her flesh seems to be spotted with bruising and her appearance looks gaunt. Her eyes are closed and you can see bright purple veins streaking from her temples all the way to her appendages.
Is this Waverider on Shimmer?
You ascend the small set of steps in front of the tank, eyes transfixed on the Waverider. Just as you’re about to reach out to touch the tank, you hear the sound of boots on stone ahead and to the right of you, coming from the shadows, in the deeper recesses of the cave. Turning quickly, you drop your notebook out of one hand and grab your pistol with the other, pointing it to the owner of the footsteps.
A thin, bald man covered in what looked like bandages emerges, standing at what had to be over 6 feet tall. The strips of cloth cover his torso and arms, the gaps between the strands revealing the unmistakable scars of severe burns. He wears black pants and a tan lab coat with only one sleeve, while a maroon scarf wraps around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. Much like his arms and torso, the right half of what you could see of his head has been heavily disfigured, no doubt by the same fire. His right eye is entirely green, from pupil to sclera, and what used to be an eyelid droops lazily onto his cheek. His hazel eye peers at you from a hooded lid.
As he approaches, he raises his arms, though he by no means looks at all concerned about the weapon pointed directly at his face.
“There’s nothing of value here for you to take,” he says, his voice raspy and slow. “You’ll find no Shimmer here.” His words are calculated, each syllable meticulously annunciated, not a breath wasted. “May I suggest one of the factories? There’s plenty there.”
“I’m not interested in drugs,” you say, coldly. “And I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful when you say there’s nothing of value here.” You turn your head to the wall of books, vials, and specimens, your gun still drawn and pointed. “I could find many uses for these.”
He follows your gaze to his desk, arms still up in almost mock surrender. He turns back to you and raises both of his hairless eyebrows.
“I’m afraid those items won’t trade for much coin.”
“I’m not interested in coin either.” You say, your eyebrows lifting to match his.
The man tilts his head a fraction, a movement so small, it’s almost imperceptible.
“And what is it you are interested in?”
You pause. The question lingers in the air.
What did you want?
“To be honest?” you say, lowering the gun. “I just want to know what you’re doing here. It seems to me you’re injecting this Waverider with—”
“Rio,” he interrupts.
“Her name is Rio.”
“Oh…” you continue. “It seems to me you’re injecting Rio with Shimmer. And I have to beg the question: why?”
“Take an educated guess.”
You shift your weight and holster your gun, getting the sense that you weren't in any immediate danger. The man—who you could only assume is the owner and scientist of this lab—lowers his arms and begins walking towards the tank. He climbs the stone steps and stops to stand right next to you, never once taking his eyes off the beautiful specimen encased in glass.
“I know of Shimmer’s different effects on humans," you start. "How it can make the user stronger and grow out their features to be a grotesque, burly…monster. How it can give the user such a high that coming off it seems impossible.”
Or rather is impossible, for some.
“But seeing Rio like this, I have to wonder if you’re trying to use it for something else. I saw a trail of purple mucus outside—it’s what led me in here in the first place—and I thought it looked like it could be the key ingredient in Shimmer. Am I getting close?”
The man nods.
“Given its wildly different side effects, it seems that this key ingredient can be converted into a slew of different treatments or powers, with just the right alchemic combination. Rio doesn’t look like any Waverider I’ve seen in my books. She’s different. Not only that but, she looks like she’s… dying.” You turn to face the scientist. “Are you trying to save her?”
The man nods again, solemnly closing his eyes as he does. He opens them and turns to face you. Your eyes meet but you can’t quite read him; it’s hard to gauge his whole facial expression when half of it is covered from your view.
“Would you like to help me?”
Your head and torso lean back in surprise, your chin tucks into your neck and your eyebrows furrow instantly. “What?”
“I know a fellow scientist when I see one.”
“Yeah, you got me there.” you say, a chuckle behind your voice. “What gave it away?”
“The way you analyzed Rio and the Shimmer. How your eyes cast across this lab with familiarity. The hunger in them to uncover the universe’s infinite truths. And—” he bends over and straightens up. “You dropped your notebook.”
He offers you the notebook, still open from when it had fallen to the ground, its pages a mess of notes, figures, and equations. You take it in your hand, gently closing it.
“Thanks,” you mutter, a little embarrassed. You take in one deep breath and let it rattle out of your mouth. “Sorry about pointing the gun at you. You know how it is.”
“I do,” he says, with the tone of a man who has faced the barrel of many guns in his lifetime.
You look down at your notebook, your thumb pulling at the pages' edges to make a satisfying fluttering sound.
“I could use an assistant in my work."
You look up to meet his gaze.
"I had one before but he was too young. I could use another. One who asks the right questions and doesn’t ask the wrong ones.” As he finishes, his all-green eye seems to focus in on you.
The sentence hangs in the air, a not-so-concealed warning. You could tell from the state of the lab—and its secretive location—that his work wasn't exactly something to be publicized. Something that could bring you back from the brink of death would be highly coveted indeed. And the ethical cost of achieving such a product? It's better not to question it.
“‘Wrong’ like ‘How did you get your scars?’” you ask, playing dumb, a question you knew to never ask someone.
“Precisely," he replies without missing a beat. His eyes scan your face, his gaze soft. His head tilts just a hair to the side, as if he’s trying to read you.
You don’t shy from his look, merely return it, taking your own time to take in his features. His brows cast a shadow on his eyes, but they do little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. This is a man who is clearly reaching his limit. Too many late nights in this dark cave with no one but Rio for company. You continue to ponder what working with him could be like. His voice is soft when it interrupts your musing.
“You don’t scare easily, do you?”
You blink. He continues.
“This face,” he gestures to it with one hand, “typically elicits fear before pity.”
It wasn’t the burns that made you pity him. Everyone had their fair share of scars from living in the Undercity; his were no different. No, the pity came from a feeling you could tell you both knew intimately: loneliness.
You turn your eyes downward, hoping you hadn’t offended him.
“It must be a lonely life, being feared.”
He takes a deep breath, turning his head to survey his laboratory, exhaling at the sight of it. “It has its perks. Solitude and isolation: two sides of one coin.”
“You don’t have anyone else?”
He turns to Rio, reaching his hand out to gently touch her glass enclosure. You can also see his other shoulder tense. Your eyes follow it to see his hand in his pocket, arm flexed as if it was gripping something tightly.
He tilts his head, as if remembering something. “On occasion, my employer will visit.”
Your eyes widen at the realization of who you’ve been talking to. You had been so distracted by all the wonders of the lab—and beautiful, tragic Rio—that you had completely missed all the signs.
Shimmer? Life extending experiments?
You almost smack yourself across the head for not putting it together sooner. You had heard about both him and his employer before, but never knew what either of them looked like.
“You're Singed!" You exclaim, it comes out much louder than you intended.
"Finally pieced it together, hmm?"
Singed. The Mad Scientist. His handiwork was all over the Lanes. His methods were unconventional—some would say downright cruel—but it got results. In your own twisted way, you actually admired him.
"And that means your employer is—"
"Silco,” he confirms.
The name sends a shiver up your spine. The Eye of Zaun. The Industrialist. Your heart catches in your throat. You can't quite tell if it's from sheer panic or excitement. You suspect it's both.
Silco was a legend. Reputation of a monster, but you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You couldn't help but be inspired by his passion towards his cause. The way he handled his affairs with decisive precision. How he could command a room without a single word.
At least, according to the rumors you had heard.
Your curiosity gets the best of you, completely overshadowing any sense of self preservation. You didn't want to miss this opportunity. You couldn’t tear yourself away from this lab and all the promises it held. Your mind had never felt so at peace as when standing in this cave. You feel like your whole life you’d been searching for something and it had finally presented itself to you. Who were you to deny it? Not to mention…
If I worked for Singed, would I get the chance to meet Silco? Meet the legend himself? See if he really is everything they say he is?
You tug at your shirt hem to straighten it out, roll your shoulders back to a more poised posture, then extend your hand out. He looks down at your hand and back up at your face. You can just barely see the evidence of a smile, the exposed skin of his cheekbones pulling upwards.
"I'll take that assistant role if it's still on the table."
As he takes your hand and shakes it, you give him your name.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
OMG I’VE READ EROS AND COMPLETLY LOVED IT, The butterflies 🦋🦋🦋
I was wondering, can I request a fic where Silco and reader are friends with benefits? Thank you!
The Bartender | Silco
Pairing: Silco x Female Reader
Word count: 3.2k
Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, p in v sex (18+ ONLY)
Summary: Silco is particularly fond of his bartender, who at times, is more than just a friend.
Notes: If you squint you can see a saucy line I included from Jason’s latest livestream 😉 AO3
This was how it usually started.
At the end of a long night of dancing, drinking, and gods knew what else, the revellers of The Last Drop would gradually move on from the club to their next destination. The only ones left to stick around when the music stopped and the colourful lights settled would be Silco’s circle of thugs and the man himself.
He would make his way downstairs and take a seat at the bar silently and you would automatically begin making his drink. You knew what he liked, and you would wordlessly place the glass in front of him as he pretended to busy himself with some menial task like running his finger around the edge of the coasters on the counter.
He would take a few sips of his drink while you wiped down the bar for the night before you would ask him casually, “rough day?”
He never came down here on a good day, and as of late, he wasn’t having very many of those.
He would let out a noncommittal grunt that usually meant yes, his day was shit. Sevika and the others would pretend not to notice that their boss only gravitated towards one person when he had something on his mind.
Silco didn’t have…friends exactly. He had people he kept around and tolerated because they were useful to him.
You, however, were quite possibly the only person whose company he enjoyed without conditions. You, one of the bartenders at The Last Drop.
You kept the place straight, made good drinks, and were entirely too easy to talk to. Silco liked you because you didn’t take any bullshit from the sometimes raucous clientele of The Lanes. He also liked you because you were easy on the eyes.
He didn’t remember the first time he noticed you were pretty, but he did know it had been a very long time since he had seen something beautiful in the industrial wasteland that was The Undercity and for that reason, he was automatically drawn to you. It wasn’t until he first approached you for a drink that he realized he genuinely enjoyed your company.
You listened to him bitch about the Topsiders and the Enforcers, about the development of his mysterious project that was taking too long, and you were always captivated by the stories of his younger years fighting for the freedom of Zaun.
Those stories were your favourite to hear, and they were his favourite to tell.
Silco listened to your stories and gripes too, and soon your little exchanges became more and more regular.
Until one night, when Silco had had a particularly shit day, and you took a seat beside him at the bar and joined him for a drink.
Slurred words, longing glances, and lingering touches had soon turned to Silco having you pressed up against the wall of his office as you kissed each other ravenously, and the rest of the night was filled with blurry memories of skin against skin and Silco filling you so deliciously that you still felt the pleasant ache of him the next day.
However, you did distinctly remember waking up naked in his bed the morning after and rolling over to find his side of the bed empty and cold. You had sighed and gathered your clothes and what was left of your dignity, got dressed, and padded out into the adjoining office to start your walk of shame home. Silco was nowhere to be found, but anyone with half a brain who was still lingering in The Last Drop in the morning knew why you were sneaking out in the same clothes you were wearing the night before.
Silco hadn’t mentioned it the next time he saw you, and it was almost as if it hadn’t happened at all.
Until it happened again.
And again, and again.
Neither of you ever talked about it and what it meant. It was casual and thankfully didn’t impede your friendly relationship in the slightest.
Based on his demeanour this evening, it seemed likely you were going to find yourself tangled with him yet again. You knew better than to get involved with someone as dangerous as Silco who was also technically your employer, but you couldn’t deny that he was damn good in bed and satisfied you better than any other previous partners had.
“Want to talk about it?” You asked as you cleaned a glass and Silco continued to nurse his drink.
His eyes flicked up to yours, one blue and one black with a maimed iris of molten lava. That was another piece of information he had divulged to you; what had happened to him to scar him so brutally. You could tell it was an insecurity for him despite the fear it inspired in others.
Ignoring your question, Silco simply replied, “would you like to come up for a drink?”
So, it was going to be one of those nights then. You had pretty much finished closing the bar anyway and you were starting to feel your skin heat up the longer he scanned you with that hungry look in his eye.
After finishing your duties for the night, you had followed Silco upstairs to his office and were now lounging in one of the plush chairs in the sitting area sipping your drink while he stood at his desk trimming and lighting his evening cigar.
“So, are you going to tell me what has you in such a mood?” You inquired with a playful lilt to your voice, half-expecting him to ignore your question again.
You heard his steady footsteps as he moved from the desk to the lush couch across from you and took a seat. The smoky smell of the cigar wafted over to you along with lingering hints of his cologne, lulling you into an easy calm.
“I am not in a state,” he clipped and took a drag of his cigar. You watched the way his cheeks hollowed around it, how his slender fingers held the smoke up to his lips, all while he was seated on the couch with his legs spread like a king sitting on his throne. Your mouth began to water and you began to feel warm.
“Well, then why am I here?”
His gaze travelled to you as he exhaled, smoke dancing around his head like a devilish halo, and he hesitated momentarily before answering, “is it not enough that I enjoy the pleasure of your company?”
A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt yourself begin to settle into this familiar game the two of you played. Dancing around each other before one of you made the first move.
“Is that all you wanted? My company?” You teased, knowing full well he had brought you up here not as a conversational companion, but as a lover.
Silco pretended to ponder your question as he took another drag off his cigar, and exhaled before countering in his smooth tone, “And what if it was? Would you be disappointed?”
“Well, I guess I would be, but it’s really you who should be disappointed.”
“Hmm? And why’s that?” He questioned casually, clearly enjoying your little game.
“Because,” you started, lowering your voice into a seductive purr as you began to undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing the lacy black lingerie you had adorned yourself in this morning, having a feeling that this is where your day would lead. “It would mean that you wouldn’t get to see this.”
You slipped your shirt off your shoulders, and Silco never tore his greedy stare away from you as he clenched his jaw and scanned his eyes over the delicate fabric accentuating your breasts. You made sure to pick out a naughty little piece he hadn’t seen before, and judging by his reaction, you had chosen well.
Silco still hadn’t said anything and watched you intently as you stood up from your chair and closed the distance between the two of you. You smirked down at him before hooking one leg over his thighs and settling yourself on his lap so you straddled him.
He regarded you now with an amused expression, his eyebrow raised as he brought his cigar to his lips again. “My, my, eager tonight aren’t we?”
Before he could take another drag from the cigar, you plucked it out of his hands and smothered it in the ashtray that sat on the nearby side table without breaking his challenging stare.
“I wasn’t done with that,” he said flatly.
“You are now,” you declared and began undoing his tie. Silco’s hands moved to your thighs, and you could feel the heat of his palms through your pants as he slowly slid them up to grip your hips and rub the exposed skin just above your waistband with his thumbs.
He watched you quietly as you slid his tie off and started working on the buttons of his shirt. There was no sound in the room now except for your hushed breathing and the distant bustle of the street outside. Silco’s office was dark, with only the eerie green glow of The Undercity coming through the window to light the room.
Once you finished your work on his buttons, you latched yourself onto his neck and he hummed as you began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. Silco let out a small hiss as you nipped at his collarbone and you couldn’t help but grin. You had just started sucking on his pale skin to leave a love bite when he breathed out the pet name he only called you when you were alone like this.
You pulled away from his neck and peered at him questioningly. His eyes were half-lidded as if he were already drunk with pleasure. That could very well be the case; you shifted on his lap and felt his hardening length against your core that sent a pulse to your belly.
Silco began working at the buttons of your pants as he sighed, “if you’re going to tease me with such filthy underthings, at least let me see the whole set.”
You tried to suppress your giggle, but you both knew you had him right where you wanted him and he couldn’t help but grin as he finally unclasped your pants and you moved off him to rid yourself of them and your shoes.
“You certainly do put on quite a show for me,” he offered, looking his fill of the lacy little number you were wearing and watching you sway your hips as you moved to straddle him once again.
His hands moved to roam over your skin, igniting a trail of fire everywhere he touched. When one of his hands moved up to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and the other gently grasped your breast through the black lace, you decided you couldn’t wait any longer.
You took Silco’s face between your hands and brought your lips down to his in a firm kiss.
He responded instantly, groaning and moving his lips against yours. His taste was so familiar to you now with the lingering notes of the cigar and the whiskey he had downstairs earlier.
You moved your hands to tangle in his soft hair and began to grind your hips into him. Silco groaned again, the sound rumbling in his chest and he tightened his grip on your hips as you moved deliciously over his clothed length. His tongue slipped easily into your mouth and he would occasionally nip at your bottom lip, causing you to let out quiet whimpers of pleasure.
He always had this effect on you. He made you feel like you needed him everywhere at once and he drove you crazy with his silky voice and suave attitude. Having those traits turned on you for the purposes of seducing his way into your bed made your head spin. You needed to feel his skin on you, now.
You moved your hands down to frantically work at the buttons on his vest, and when you began to struggle, you pulled away from his filthy kiss, breathless, and looked down to focus on your work of ridding him of his clothes.
While you did that, Silco moved to kiss and lick at your neck and whisper dirty things in your ear.
“Easy now, be a good girl,” he crooned, his voice like liquid velvet in your consciousness, making you shudder. He moved to suck on that spot behind your ear that drove you crazy, and you ground your hips particularly hard as you tried to get some friction on your throbbing clit.
“But not too good.”
You finally were able to remove his vest and quickly moved to work at the remaining buttons of his crimson dress shirt. Silco pulled away from you momentarily to assist you with ridding himself of his shirt, and when he tossed it aside, you resumed your assault on his neck.
You worked your way down his throat, his collarbone, his chest, leaving hot kisses in your wake as you worshipped him. He threw his head back and groaned, petting your hair as you kneeled between his legs and followed the fine trail of greying hair down his navel with your mouth.
You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you palmed his erection. Silco hissed and moved one of his hands from your hair to brush his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Don’t tease me, darling, I’ve had a long day,” he breathed and applied the slightest bit of pressure to your lip with his thumb. You didn’t even hesitate as you wrapped your lips around the digit and sucked, never breaking eye contact with him.
“Dirty little thing,” he whispered to no one but himself, and pulled his hand away so you could get to work on unbuttoning his pants and freeing his cock.
You always seemed to forget how big he was, but you were never daunted as you licked the salty precum at his slit and wrapped your lips around his head and sucked.
Silco inhaled sharply, carefully tangling his hand in your hair and guiding your head down his shaft as you began to bob up and down his length.
“Good girl,” he repeated breathily. “Just like that.”
He began to gently thrust up into your mouth, and you gazed up at him with innocent eyes glazed in arousal, which you knew drove him crazy. When you felt you had relaxed enough, you boldly pushed yourself further onto his cock and took him into your throat.
Silco let out a strangled noise that was a cross between a growl and a moan and threw his head back.
“So good, so good.”
He always got chattier the closer he got to finishing, and you could feel his muscles tightening as you continued to suck him off and stroke the rest of his length with one hand.
Silco’s breathing became more rapid, and just as you thought he was about to cum down your throat, he murmured your name.
“That’s enough…want to feel you,” he panted.
You obeyed, pulling off his cock and assisting Silco with removing his pants fully and removing the rest of your lingerie. When you rose to perch yourself atop him again, you allowed yourself a moment to imprint the sight before you into your brain. Silco sprawled over the couch, naked, with a thin sheen of sweat covering his pearly skin and his hair hanging in his face. He was utterly gone with arousal, his cock still hard as steel and his eyes heavy with pleasure.
“Come here,” he ordered, his voice heady and seductive.
Without question, you moved to straddle him again and gripped his cock, positioning him at your dripping entrance. Silco’s eyes bore into your own as you put the tip in and slowly began to sink down on him. He hissed and you shuddered at the feeling of the delightful intrusion, and Silco had to steady his breathing to ensure the feeling of your warm, wet cunt squeezing him wouldn’t cause him to spill into you right then and there.
You whimpered as you took him in further, and Silco shushed you gently, rubbing your back and pressing light kisses to your neck to relax you. The stretch was delicious, but it always took you a few moments to get used to him. He was always a patient, caring lover, and sometimes you couldn’t believe that your relationship was completely different out of the confines of these walls.
But you didn’t want to think about that right now.
You were finally seated fully on him, and once the pain had subsided, you started to roll your hips. The sounds of your combined noises of pleasure filled the room, as did the sound of the squelching of your wetness as you moved up and down on his cock.
“There you go,” he purred in your ear, gripping your hips as he thrusted his own up into you. “Does that feel good?”
He didn’t expect an answer, you knew that. He knew damn well the feeling of having him inside you was euphoric, and your whimpers and moans provided him with enough conclusions.
You both found a rhythm that had you pulsing around him in no time, and your noises grew louder and louder until Silco’s rhythm became frantic and you were crying out with every thrust. You arched into him and he ghosted his mouth over your nipple, sucking lightly and causing you to keen in his arms.
“Silco-” you moaned, not knowing any words right now other than his name.
“I know, I know,” he crooned, moving to lick at your other breast.
You could feel the pressure building in your belly and threatening to snap. Sparks of electricity danced up your spine and you were becoming breathless.
“I’m close,” you managed to force out. Silco hummed before pulling off your breast, and looked up at you as his thumb began to rub tight circles on your clit.
“Oh- oh gods!” You cried out, the coil inside you snapping within a few thrusts. You threw your arms around Silco’s shoulders and screamed his name as you came, the sparks in your spine turning into pure lighting that danced through every nerve in your body.
Silco found his own release moments later, and he growled sharply into the crook of your neck as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him like a vice drove him over the edge and he spilled himself into you.
You both stayed like that for a while, clinging to each other as you came down from your respective highs. Silco stayed inside you while he softened and his breathing evened out, and you had your face buried in his shoulder as you tried to bring yourself back down to reality.
It was not lost on you that the level of intimacy Silco offered you was special. You could stay like this forever, with your bodies wrapped around each other and him buried deep inside of you as you recovered from the throes of passion.
“Are you alright?” His even voice was a welcome intrusion into your post-sex contemplations.
“Mhm,” you hummed contentedly, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Are you?”
The corners of his mouth danced and he nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can assure you, my dear, that you are most definitely not a disappointment.”
“So you did bring me up here just to ravish me,” you giggled. Silco huffed a laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.
“Perhaps I did.”
How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O
- Purposely distract him while he’s working
- Don’t get me wrong, he loves when you come to visit him at the lab
- But when you start poking at his cheeks and forehead and anywhere else you can reach to get his attention, he bats your hand away with a quick “Quit it”
- You can see the smallest smile on his face when he says it, though, so you know he isn’t actually upset with you.
- Say things that are entirely incorrect and pretend to believe it wholeheartedly.
You: Space doesn’t exist
Viktor: wH- HOW DOES SPACE NOT EXIST???
You: It’s too big and I’ve never seen it in person. So therefore, it does not exist.
Viktor: *Exasperated scientist noises*
- He then proceeds to explain how space is, in fact, real and why.
- When you tell him you were joking, he pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs, “I swear, one day, you’ll be the death of me, my dear.”
- Slurp on whatever you’re drinking as loud as possible
- He hates it
- Especially when he’s working
Jayce: *writing in silence*
Jayce, freezing for a moment: ... *Goes back to writing*
Jayce: cAN YOU N O T-
- Blow air into his mouth when he kisses you.
- He pretends to be annoyed but it makes him laugh every time.
- starts doing it to you in retaliation
- Pronounce things incorrectly
- You pronounced microwave “me-crow-wa-vay” once and he looked at you like you had three heads
- leave dirty dishes in the sink
- He’s fine if it’s one or two, but if you leave a pile of them in there?
- You will have a very miffed boyfriend on your hands
- But only if you do it when it’s his turn to wash the dishes
- If it’s because your mental health isn’t so good, though, he’s totally fine and makes sure not to make you feel bad about it
- You will not believe me
- But she is VERY ticklish
- You found out when you were joking around and poked her side
- She legit yelped-
- You asked if she was ticklish and there was that tense silence where she debated what to say cause either way, you were gonna tickle her
- So instead of answering
- She ran away from you
-Cue you tackling her onto the bed
- Eventually she managed to pin you to the bed and was like “How dARE YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MY ONLY WEAKNESS!!”
- It’s all fun and games, though, cause you best believe she’ll get you back eventually.
- Do that spider thing with your hand
- Make it crawl around on her desk, all over her papers
- She gets mildly annoyed cause like, she was in the middle of something
- But she gets her revenge by doing it to you whenever you’re busy.
- She even makes scary noises for her hand creature for added spook factor
- Lowkey just makes it cuter but-
- Chew with your mouth open
- Do it next to her ear and you’re getting smacked
- Playfully, of course
- Leave your laundry all over the house
- She gets it if you leave it on the bedroom or bathroom floor every so often
- But in the kitchen???
- How the fuck did your shirt end up on the counter???
Silco: relationship headcanons //part 1
Silco is a man of focus, commitment and will to sacrifice a lot in pursuit of his goal. He knows half the people of the Lanes and controls a big chunk of the rest, but doesn't flinch before sacrificing those he considers pawns in order to fulfill his dream. There are very few people he keeps close and shares even a sliver of trust with.
And then you march into his life and refuse to leave.
What confused Silco the most at first is how you seemed to genuinely not want to use him for your own gain. You were involved in freeing the Lanes from the Piltover's clasp, and you had a decent skill set that came in handy on a few occasions. You slowly worked your way up, started working closer with Silco… and never stabbed him in the back.
That surprised him. Loyalty is hard-earned in the Lanes and you seemed too good to not be an elaborate trap, and yet there you were, standing by his side and looking like you enjoyed the place. Like you wanted to be there.
It took Silco a while to realize what he felt looking at you was something more than care over a good investment. That the people he sent with you on missions he chose with special interest. That he always wanted you to bring him the reports, to accompany him to meetings, to keep an eye on Jinx when he had to take care of especially gruesome business alone.
It didn't take Sevika that long to notice. But Sevika didn't care what was going on in her boss's private life as long as you were less of a problem than Jinx. And given how you didn't bite her even once throughout all the time you worked for Silco, she might even like you more than the kid.
Silco tried to move on, to get rid of the feelings he knew would be his weakness in a world where he could afford to show none. But his mind would constantly linger on you, on your smile, on the way you delivered the newest report, the tone of your voice or the small gestures he noticed you made - and knew he couldn't live like this.
What Silco didn't know was your side of things. You did allow yourself some freedom in his presence he wouldn't take from his other goons, but was something more behind it?
Silco tried to be subtle at first and did his best to make hints and figure out your feelings from the reaction to them, but he quickly fell into over analyzing every single word or look you gave him. It led him nowhere and Silco didn't like that.
The matter of whatever was between you and him was something Silco was extremely sensitive about. He didn't need half the Lanes learning about his weak spot and using it against him, so whatever rumors would arise, he made Sevika crush before they caught the wind (or your attention). Sevika didn't mind. She might even enjoy the show and Silco's rising frustration.
He broke at some point. It was after yet another one of his ploys he thought were smart and direct enough, but still left you oblivious to his true intentions. He appreciated you thinking you were just his extremely trusted assistant, but there was only so much he could take.
So once Silco made sure to be somewhere private and secure with you, he decided to be as blunt as possible and let you decide whether you were interested in him in the same way, or would prefer things to stay on a purely professional level.
He was ready to be rejected (he could think of many reasons behind that), and respected you enough to accept whatever choice you made.
His heart felt like a hammer in his chest when he waited for your answer. He stood tall and confident, even though the hands he clasped behind his back were ice cold.
The smile Silco allowed himself when you accepted him was one of the very few genuine and happy ones you saw him make. By then you could easily tell them apart.
‘I love him’ (One-shot):
Silco x gn!reader - SFW
CW: drunk!reader, fluff, confessions, self-doubt/low self-esteem, swears, established relationship, soft silco my beloved, silco POV
Summary: Silco can’t quite believe his eyes when you stumble into his office at the end of the evening, drunk out of your mind. But as he worriedly helps you get into bed, it’s your drunken confession that truly astounds the disconcerted kingpin.
A/N: anyone else in need of some silco fluff with an extra dose of softness?? -elsie x
Of all the ways Silco had expected the evening to end, you stumbling into his office in the drunkest state he’d ever seen you in, would not have been his first guess. Or his second. Or third. Or even fourth, considering you’d told him you were going down to the club to double-check the stockroom matched the inventory list, filled out by the bar staff the night before.
Evidently, you had gotten side-tracked, (or perhaps indulged in most of said stock, he mused), as you pushed open the door to his office two hours later, putting far too much of your weight onto it and nearly tripping yourself up in the process.
You looked an absolute mess. Your hair was tussled, your eyes were bloodshot, and your jaw lay slack as you gazed blankly at the large, ornate window behind his desk.
Silco thinks he’s in shock. In fact, he’s so astonished at the spectacle before him that for the first time in years, he can’t produce a single word in response to the situation. Instead, his eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you stumble your way towards him, your head lulling as you try not to trip over the edges of the rug.
His pen and paperwork now entirely forgotten, Silco quickly pushes himself to stand as you unsteadily approach the desk, ready to rush to your side if you were to fall. But instead, you by-pass his desk entirely and make your way towards the door to your shared bedroom, wobbling the whole of the (admittedly short) journey.
Okay, now Silco is confused. His mismatched eyes follow you in disbelief as you shuffle away from him and into the bedroom. And it was only as your unstable form disappeared into the darkness of the room, that he realised you hadn’t even looked at him once since entering his office.
Silco frowns. Were you mad at him? He hopes not. He doesn’t think he could handle you being upset with him, even if he was certain he hadn’t done anything wrong (well, to you, that is).
You’d only been dating for just short of a year, but Silco knew without a shadow of a doubt that he absolutely adored you. You were sweet, kind, and infinitely understanding, but also passionate, and willing to fight for what you believed was right. Everything he’d been missing in his life.
He is pretty sure he’d do anything for you at this point. And honestly, it terrified him.
At the sound of the wardrobe door being slammed open, and a grumbled curse following shortly after, Silco rushes into the room to find you miserably failing to wrestle your shirt off of your torso.
“Darling?” he asks quietly.
You put one finger up to your lips, swaying unsteadily on your feet as you whisper in his general direction.
“Shhhhhh, Silco is working and I don’t want to disturb him.”
Oh. So that’s why you hadn’t looked or spoken to him on your way through his office. You weren’t mad at him; you were so drunk you thought he hadn’t seen you.
Part of him is quietly amused at your disorderly conduct, but the other part of him is really quite concerned. You’d never got yourself in such a state that you could barely make out your surroundings. Frankly, Silco is relieved you managed to get yourself up to his office in one piece.
“Here, let me help you,” he says, moving swiftly across the room to where you were clutching onto the wardrobe door.
He helps you pull a large, comfy shirt over your head and sighs deeply when you get trapped in it. Is this what it was like when he got drunk?
No. Not only could he hold his liquor better than you, there was no way he’d require this level of babysitting. And even if he did, he’d fervently deny it the next morning.
Pyjamas on, Silco decides to do some detective work as he leads you over to the bed. He gently holds your body close as you walk and to his quiet delight, you automatically lean into the motion, like you were inexplicably drawn to him.
“Why are you so intoxicated, my lovely? I thought you were supposed to be doing an inventory check,” Silco asks.
“I was, but I bumped into Sevika…and she convinced me to, uh… to take a shot everytime she got a woman to sit on her lap,” you grind out. It’s slow and slurred and takes a bit of effort to understand.
Silco rolls his eyes. Of course this was Sevika’s doing.
“And how many did she… manage to convince?”
“Uh… I lost count.”
He exhales through his nose sharply, owing to his steadily growing exasperation.
Silco manages to pull back the covers and help you into bed, but not before you gracelessly smack your head into his shoulder. Ouch. If it had hurt you as much as it hurt him, you don’t seem to notice.
“I think she must have paid some of them, nobody can be that attractive,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, as you slump down onto the bed, laying on your side.
‘You are’ Silco thinks automatically, but thankfully holds it back before he can voice it outloud. Truthfully, he doesn’t like you being in the bar during opening hours because he’s worried that you’ll catch the wrong person’s attention. Or worse, (and it's this thought he always squashes down the instant it pops into his head), they’ll catch yours.
Silco makes a mental note to reprimand Sevika later for leaving you by yourself in such a state, but for now, he’s preoccupied with making sure you’re safe and sound in your shared bed.
Finally under the covers, Silco feels content enough to leave your side just long enough to fetch you a glass of water from the adjoining bathroom, and a bucket to place at the side of the bed. Despite the mountain of work he knows he should be doing, Silco has already resigned himself to the fact that he’ll be watching over you for most of the night. He doesn’t really mind.
When he returns to you a few minutes later, you’re quietly mumbling to yourself.
“...just wish…. so goddamn… deserves a break… gorgeous little…”
It’s really rather endearing. Silco can’t help but smile as he gazes down at the sight of you, his sweetheart, all soft and sleepy in his bed.
He sits down beside you and reaches out to gently smooth your hair down from its unruly condition.
“Get some sleep, my love,” Silco croons, openly admiring your flushed face, as his thumb trails lightly across your cheekbone.
And it’s as he’s pulling the covers to fit more snugly over your shoulders that you mumble something that makes his blood run cold.
“I love him.”
Silco’s face drops.
What did you just say?
He’s lost for words yet again. It’s almost scary how easily you can halt him in his tracks. Silco had never struggled to know what to say in a tricky situation, that is, of course, until he’d met you.
Despite him not saying anything in response to your statement, you continue on as if he had.
“You don’t understand, I really love him,” you emphasise, your voice thick with a mixture of sleep and liquor.
Silco is really frowning now. Who the hell were you talking about? It ignites a rage within him. A terrible, ugly, green monster that is threatening to burst out at any moment. He doesn’t think he can handle the thought of you loving someone else. It would irrevocably break his already fragile heart. Even thinking that your love could be held by another makes him irrationally grief-stricken.
His face and voice hardens as he quietly demands his next question.
Your response is so quick and certain, it could only be the gods’ honest truth.
He feels like he’s just been shocked. Electrocuted. Eliminated. His pupils widen in pure amazement.
This was the first time either of you had ever used that word before. Silco can’t quite remember the last time someone had used it in reference to him.
But he’d be damned if it didn’t feel right.
The feeling that is rapidly flooding his chest is entirely foreign to him. Entirely too much and yet surprisingly not enough at the very same time.
“Really?” he asks, his voice low and almost embarrassingly full of hope.
“Yeah, I mean, have you seen him? He’s absolutely fucking adorable,” you begin to ramble, “I know everyone thinks he’s this super scary villain guy, but he’s so sweet and protective and so goddamn hot.”
A blush settles across Silco’s cheeks and ears.
As he’s still processing your many, many words, you pull your hand from under the warmth of the covers and reach out towards him. Unfortunately, you’re still not really able to focus on anything properly, so Silco has to grab your hand, just in time to stop you from accidentally smacking him in the face.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell him though, he’ll get all huffy about it,” you say emphatically.
Huffy? … Huffy??
What are you talking about? He’s always perfectly lovely, and never huffy, he thinks with a hint of offence. Honestly, the cheek.
Silco raises an eyebrow.
“Will he now?”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to ruin everything with him, you know? He means the world to me.”
Silco doesn’t know how to respond (yet again), so he favours tracing the outline of your delicate features with his eyes. He’d be lying if he said he was disappointed that this was the way he’d found out you loved him, because he honestly never expected you to say it in the first place.
After everything that had happened, Silco had resigned himself to the fact that he was unlovable many years ago. And he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved your love. Your unending, ethereal love.
But maybe it was enough to heal his cold, broken heart.
You finish your impassioned speech while Silco carefully puts your hand back under the covers.
“I know we haven’t been dating that long, but gods, I fucking love him.”
He stares down at you in pure disbelief, only broken out of his reverie when your eyelids finally stop fluttering as they close fully. You’re exhausted.
Silco strokes your hair, as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and leans over you.
A quiet, questioning breath of your name dances across your cheek.
“Mhmm?” you vocalise so reticently, he almost misses it.
“He loves you too,” Silco tells you quietly, in the softest voice he’s ever spoken in.
Then, he kisses your forehead before sitting back up to watch you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep.
Silco knows that when you wake, you’ll have an interesting conversation ahead of you, depending on just how much you remember from the night before.
But for now, he’s more than comfortable just basking in the knowledge that you love him and he desperately loves you, because you’re by far the best thing that has ever happened to him. And he wouldn’t trade you for the world.
reader: i love him
Silco: *gasp* they loooove me so, that funny honey of miiiine
I respect you
Silco x Reader
It's been a long, long day, and you just wanted to rest. But it's quite possible that your intentions to rest will be interrupted. You can't keep something from Silco for long.
Warnings: nudity, dirty talk, strong language, mention of an injury
Added to the Masterlist
Like every day, every time you finished a job, you went to Silco's office to see him. He was almost always in his office, it was his favorite place, and although he didn't admit it so easily, he always wanted to have you by his side. You knew him, so you knew he was always looking for a work-related excuse to avoid saying what he really meant, like ordering you to go see him every time you finished a job. What Silco really wanted was to see you, to know that you were okay.
Silco cared about you, a lot, but in his own way.
This time, when you entered his office, you didn't find him. He must have gone to attend to a personal matter, so the only option was to wait for him, and you left your report on his desk for him to read later. A matter that required Silco's presence had to be serious, otherwise Sevika would go in his place.
You didn't know when he would return because you didn't know how long he had been gone, and the reality was that you were tired. It wasn't one of the best ideas, but you did it before, so you would do it now. After drinking a glass of liquor, you sit down on the couch and then lay down on your back. You needed a nap, at least an hour's sleep.
It didn't take you long to fall asleep, you were really very tired. From then on you couldn't tell how long you were asleep, maybe an hour, half an hour or just twenty minutes. Suddenly, in the middle of your dreams, you feel a hand stroking your forehead and you thought it came from your dreams, but when you start to open your eyes, you see a silhouette since your vision was blurred. You knew who it was, it couldn't be anyone else, and you heard his voice.
"You know? My couch is not a bed"
“Hmm... For other things it is a bed, but not for a nap...” you smiled, your voice was sleepy. “I understand your priorities now, Silco...”
Silco chuckles and you feel him caress your forehead again, his touch was always soft. He was sitting at the small table in front of the couch. You run your hand over your eyes to wipe them and regain your vision, and you could finally see him.
“Come on, I have a meeting in a few minutes and I don't want you to be seen sleeping here”
“You're not serious”
“It was a joke. So... who are you meeting with?” you straighten your back to sit on the couch, and he helped you. “Marcus? Or with another idiot?”
“Another idiot" Silco caresses your lower lip, and now he could see your eyes much better. “Hmmm. There's something you're not telling me"
Maybe your eyes gave you away, maybe the shoulder area of your clothes gave you away, but you couldn't hide it from him. You take off the top of your clothes to expose your shoulder, and Silco manages to see what you had, so you see that he raises his eyebrows in surprise for a moment.
“What happened?” he asked. You had a knife wound in your shoulder, as if someone had tried to stab you.
“You know, some sons of bitches trying to sabotage our work"
That wound seemed to be more serious than it looked, and in fact it was quite close to the area of your heart. Did someone send those people to kill you? Silco already suspected as much, in fact he was sure that's what happened.
“That's not a surprise, but did you take care of them?”
“No... Not all of them. Sorry for that...”
Silco runs his finger across your shoulder, without touching your wound. Luckily your wound was closed, a doctor had already healed it. Then he brings his hand behind your head, so you rested your forehead on his left shoulder.
"Don't apologize for that” Silco said, his voice is soft. “We will take care of them. They won't go far. I will make sure they get what they deserve"
The reality is that no one should mess with you, because if someone messed with you, they would also mess with Silco.
“I know... But I couldn't take care of them...” you said, and now rested your cheek on his shoulder. “I’m weak sometimes”
“That doesn't make you weak. You see, there are very reasons why no one should tell you that you are weak. Some are visible, some are not. But there are enough reasons to say that you are strong”
“That's difficult because you're the only one who knows me well"
“Do they have to know you to respect you? I already respect you, and that's enough for them to understand that and not dare to insult you” he rests his left cheek on your head. “You worry too much about nonsense”
“I don't worry about nonsense”
“... not always"
“That's better” he hears you chuckle. “What's funny?”
When Silco said he respected you, he also said he loved you. You rested a hand behind his back, slipping your arm under his arm, practically hugging him.
“I’m thinking...” you smile. “I guess it took me a long time to earn your respect”
“Not as long as you think”
“Your tricks don't work on me. I'm not going to tell you the whole story because you already know it"
“Well, I had to try”
“Then use your wits for something other than trying to tease me”
“Like...?” you break away from the embrace and look at him.
“You are clever, find out for yourself. And now I'm going to ask you to...”
You interrupted his words by grabbing his face with both hands and put your mouth together with his. Silco was surprised by such a sudden gesture, but instantly reciprocate that kiss, and rest his hands on your waist. You stayed like this for a few moments, kissing, until the lack of air appeared in both of you.
“What were you going to ask me?” you asked him after you separated, still with your hands on his face.
“Hmm" Silco chuckles a little. “Well, I guess it doesn't matter now”
“Oh? What about your meeting?”
You didn't expect that answer. Now Silco is the one who starts the kiss, and you reciprocate, but the kiss now was different. It was more passionate, deeper. That's why he forces you to lie down on your back on the couch with him on top of you, and all the time you are still kissing. Now the kiss was completely passionate.
The rest was going to be more than perfect.
Silco would absolutely drape his coat around your shoulders during your evening walk.