GIVE ME A QUICK STAB PLEASE. 5 sentence heart break fucking. Reader telling silco they have to stop because their morals and beliefs are totally opposite of each other.
"We can't keep doing this."
"Yet," Silco starts, dragging a hand over your naked side, "You keep coming back."
"This is the last time," you move away from the bed, determined; you couldn't be with a man like him, warming the bed of a murderer and drug lord, "I'm not coming back."
He stands, following you, naked and glorious as he approaches you, having you pause in getting dressed to just staring at him once more, "You don't have to like what I do, Darling, but that doesn't mean you have to leave."
And then his arms are around you again, and the warm feelings you should not be having continue to bubble up into your chest, just as he presses his mouth to your ear and you know you've lost the battle of your morals once more before he even speaks, "Let me convince you."
Pride and Progress: Part One (Regency era Silco x OC)
Summary: When the eligible Mr Vander of Vander Hall returns to host a summer ball, all of Fissureton is aflutter as they vie for his interest. But for one particular young lady, it is not the handsome bachelor but his more unusual friend who captures her attention. (Silco x OC in a Jane Austen-inspired world.)
Notes: Nobody asked for this, but I wrote it anyway. A Pride & Prejudice parody that’s threatening to become a serious project. Oops.
AO3 Link
Chapter 1: In Which Dreams are Aired (1,484 words)
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in need of a good fortune must be in want of a husband. And for the many young ladies of the town of Fissureton, the return of the eligible Mr Vander of Vander Hall was cause for great excitement and the beginning of much scheming.
It has been thirty days since you made your last payment to Silco... and you don't dare to be late again.
Previous | Masterlist
Rating: NC-17, explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!
Word Count: 5,100
Warnings: ongoing reference to sex as a form of payment, references to voyeurism, fingering, handjobs, piv sex, minor derogatory language (one use of the term 'cockdumb'), canon-typical threats of violence.
Silco was a kinky bastard.
You took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. You honestly didn’t know which was worse - the unblinking stare of his darkened eye or the gleaming satisfaction in the light one. Either way, you were determined that he wouldn’t see how much he was getting to you.
“Come, my little philanthropist,” Silco purred, making the phrase sound far more salacious than it actually was.
“Silco-”
“I told you what I want from you,” he insisted. “I want to hear every detail of what happened after our last encounter.”
Well, maybe he wasn’t making his urging sound that much more salacious than the question truly was. But there were other factors at play here.
You shook your head, fighting to keep your face expressionless. At first, you let your gaze drift past his head, but then you were left staring at the window behind his desk. It was just your imagination, but you could almost swear that you could pinpoint the spot where your bare nipples had pressed against the glass last month.
Silco made an impatient noise and you grimaced, compromising by staring at one corner of his high-backed chair. “I went back to the Haven, and-”
“Did you turn back in the street?” he interrupted to ask. “Stare up at my window to see just how blatant the exposure of your delectable body was?”
“No,” you denied. It was an honest answer, but not the whole truth. You had itched to do exactly that, but you had been worried what you would find in that green-tinted window… and how it would make you feel.
“Once I got back to the Haven, I showered-”
“Immediately? Or did you let my gift soak into your lovely skin?” Silco cut in again.
"I showered," you repeated, your back arching slightly as he twisted his fingers in your tight heat.
"That isn't what I asked," he reminded. “When did you bathe? How long did you wear that reminder of our time together?”
You gave a long-suffering sigh, looking at the corner of his chair’s back again. This had been Silco’s game this session. The moment you had stepped through the door of his office, he seemed to have already had a plan in place.
“Not wearing a skirt?” he had asked, even though he had never made any requests about your clothing - other than that you wear the same underwear from your first session. “Pity. Remove your lower garments and have a seat.”
You had lifted a brow at that, noting that the chairs that had been in front of Silco’s desk during your previous sessions were missing. His chair was the only one there, but you had spotted a couch along one wall of the room and figured it would work just as well… maybe a little better.
But when you had finished undressing - halfway, in any case - you took a single step toward the couch before Silco made a sharp noise of disapproval. You glanced back at him and he patted his thigh, the movement laden with meaning. He couldn’t be serious, you reflected. Silco was inarguably powerful, but he was a slender man. You would break him in half if you tried to sit in his lap.
When you were standing indecisively at his knee, Silco had reached out, brazenly parting your folds to run a finger over your entrance. You were still watching, shocked, as he pulled his hand away to study the shining glaze you had left on his fingertip. You fought against reacting to that, a bit ashamed that you were already so wet when he hadn’t even touched you.
A moment later, Silco rested his hand on his leg, palm up, and left two fingers extended upward. You had frowned at him, but he nodded down at his thigh. The message was clear: you were supposed to sit on his hand.
And so you had eased down on his thigh, letting his fingers slide through your folds and sink deep in your channel. You had sucked in a breath at the feeling, the muscles in your thighs dancing helplessly as you adjusted to the intrusion. Silco’s fingers were thin, but taking two of them with no preparation had been a bit of a shock to your system.
You tightened around those fingers again as Silco used his free hand to slap your ass. “Must I repeat my rule about answering questions fully?”
“No,” you gritted out. That spank had sent you forward slightly. Not only had you impaled yourself more fully on his fingers, but you had ground your clit against the rough fabric of his pants. The myriad sensations were threatening to overwhelm you. “I showered immediately.”
He grunted, and you almost felt like you detected a hint of disappointment in it. “Was that so terribly difficult?”
Rather than answer his question - a bold choice considering the point he had just made - you gestured down at your pelvis. “What is the point of this? You know this doesn’t work as a lie detector.”
“Perhaps not,” Silco agreed, wiggling his fingers while you gasped at the feeling and danced forward on his thigh. Through a smirk, he added, “But I am not trying to detect lies. I am trying to detect other things.”
You frowned at him, but before you could ask what he meant (or decide if you really wanted to know), he put on his silkiest tone. “How long did it take for the pain in your rear to fade?”
“Almost a week,” you bit out. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re most welcome, though I would prefer for you to thank me in the moment next time,” Silco said, his fingers starting to stroke languidly in your heat. “Were you sad to lose that reminder of our time together?”
“N- no,” you stammered out, your hesitation only partially caused by the sensation of his movements in you.
He hummed at that. “Did you enjoy being spanked?”
“No.” That time, you managed to spit out the single syllable without it getting caught in your mouth, but it wasn’t any more convincing than the first one had been.
“No?” Silco asked skeptically. “Remember, I was inside of you while I used my hands on you. I felt your reaction. You enjoyed it. I did, too. Perhaps we’ll do it again some time. Maybe I’ll put you directly over my knee. You may like it better. It’s much more… intimate.”
You had a split second of warning - not enough to do anything to prevent it, but enough to fix your widening gaze on Silco’s face. The squeeze of your cunt was reflexive, instinctive, but you would have given a lot to prevent it from happening.
Silco’s face was something you wouldn’t forget for a long time. His eyes went heavy-lidded with satisfaction as a slight smile quirked his lips. Rather than gloat about your body’s reaction to his rough treatment of you, he simply told you, “After your lack of release last time, I believe you’re owed some pleasure now. Do you want to come like this?”
That was a question with more layers than were apparent at first glance. Did you want to come like this, straddling the thigh of the worst person you had ever met with two of his fingers thrust inside of you? No, not especially. But your channel was weeping, your clit was rubbing against the rough material of his pants, and the furor inside of you was impossible to deny.
And so, squeezing your eyes closed as if to avoid the reality of the situation, you nodded. A faint snort of amusement from just in front of you told you that Silco found your sudden bout of shyness ridiculous, but he didn’t offer any comment. Instead, he just started moving his fingers in earnest, his thumb offering firm pressure against the swollen point of your clit.
It took you a startlingly short length of time to fall apart that way. When you were spent, you found yourself having slumped forward onto Silco’s thin chest. You lifted yourself out of your straddle, pulling Silco’s fingers from your sensitive core. He let you do so.
Abruptly, you found yourself weary post-orgasm. “Want me over the desk?”
“I beg your pardon?” Silco asked.
You were tempted to simply repeat your question, but you knew his confusion didn’t come from a lack of hearing. Instead, you expanded, “I know you like to get right into things. Where do you need me?”
Silco tilted his head, watching you from beneath a solemn brow. His study of you was lingering and intense, and you shifted uncomfortably.
“Let us try something different,” he proposed, and every muscle you had tensed in anxiety at what he may end up suggesting. “Since you managed to make your payment on time and answered all of my questions… you decide how I’ll have you today.”
“You want me to choose?” you asked, stunned.
Silco sighed. “For a clever woman, you do ask the simplest questions. Yes, I want you to choose. Consider it an act of good faith.”
You stared at him, trying to bite back your instinctive reply, which was that Silco had never once indicated a drop of good faith and why should he start now? Thankfully, your good sense kicked in and you managed to bite that back. There was no need to antagonize him, not when he was apparently in a good mood. Did he have those? Maybe it was just a ‘less bad’ mood.
Silco seemed to give up on you answering on your own. His hands took hold of your hips and lifted you up from his leg, idly smoothing over the wet spot you had left behind on his thigh. “Your choice, my little philanthropist. But choose quickly. I have an important meeting coming up and I would prefer not to rush this.”
When he rose from his chair, Silco’s fingers went to the fastenings of his clothing, deftly freeing himself from first his shirt, then his pants. “Our time is running out,” he murmured, working at your shirt.
Dazed as you were at the first sight of his fully nude body, your pleasure-soaked brain managed to come up with a plan. When you were stripped from your clothing, you made your way to the couch you had seen earlier.
“Sit,” you said, gesturing at the rich fabric. Silco lifted a brow at you, and you hastily amended, “Please.”
With a look of amusement at you daring to order him around in his own office, Silco complied, settling his body against the cushions. He didn’t sit - he sprawled, limbs splaying comfortably across the surface with a sense of confident ownership.
You took a moment to study his body against the red fabric. He was as pale and lean as you had guessed he would be, though his body held more than a hint of muscle. Silco was not a bulky man, but he clearly took care of himself. His cock was showing signs of interest, but not nearly as much as his expression.
Silco’s natural eye was gleaming with curiosity and anticipation, waiting to see what you would do next. His darkened eye, the sign of the undercity’s most feared scourge, glowed with its own light, watching unblinking as you studied its owner.
You planted a knee on one side of Silco’s hips, swinging the other leg over him so that you landed in a straddle sitting back on his thighs. He seemed well able to support you without a struggle, but you still asked, “Is this okay?”
“I gave you permission to do as you liked,” Silco reminded you. “Go on.”
You gave a tight nod and licked your palm, but Silco stopped you before you could reach down to take his cock in hand. “I believe I helped you find a far more helpful wetness than that. You can do better.”
No matter how badly your face wanted to heat at his casual reminder of your previous orgasm on his fingers, you couldn’t deny that was true. You inched your hips closer to his and lowered yourself slightly, working your slit against his semi-hard cock until it was glossed with a layer of your slick. When you pulled back once more, Silco didn’t stop you from slipping your hand between your bodies.
“I must admit-” Silco broke off to make a low noise deep in his throat as you began working your fingers over his slippery length. “I am surprised you didn’t have me lying on the floor. I would have guessed that you would find the symbolism enticing.”
You sent him an unimpressed look. “I’m old enough to know the value of having a soft surface instead of a wooden floor beneath your knees.”
Silco eyed you for a moment as if just realizing something. “I never asked after your knees. Did they hurt as you sucked my cock? Were you in pain as I came down your throat? Did you-”
He stopped once more, this time because his breath caught in his throat when you gave the head of his cock a mild pinch. You would have guessed it was a pained pause, except that his feet planted on the floor and his hips gave a sharp thrust. As you waited for him to reprimand you for it, you kept your fingers dancing over him.
Silco didn’t have a harsh reply for you, but he reached down to catch your wrist. “Whatever plans you have, speed them up. I want to fuck you. Want to feel that perfect cunt come around my cock this month. Been thinking about it-”
You didn’t even hesitate. By the time Silco had finished talking about your pussy, you had lined the head of him up with your entrance and sank down onto his length.
As Silco made a low sound deep in his throat, you fought the temptation to do the same. This wasn’t the first time you had taken Silco’s length, but this was definitely the first time you had been the one in control of the situation. You had been given the opportunity to take things slow, to get used to him at your own pace. And what had you done? You had taken it all in one sliding thrust that left you gaping at the intensity.
Silco was not a small man, but from this angle, he felt absolutely monstrous. You could feel it as the lips of your pussy spread further and further, admitting his cock so deep inside of you that you felt you could choke on it. You were being impaled, owned completely by the man under you, and you wanted to cry at the unfairness of it. Silco controlled you, dominated you, when he was taking you, but nothing had changed now that you were the one in control. He still managed to overpower you, even from his place seated underneath you.
You came to a stop near the root of Silco’s cock, and he gave a thrust to push the rest of himself into you. With your hips flush against his, you did your best to adjust to him, riding the wave of sensation.
Silco cursed loudly and you glanced at him in shock, momentarily surprised to remember that someone other than you existed in the world.
“You’re burning me alive,” he hissed, shifting under you in a way that made you see stars. “Squeezing me like you’re trying to choke my cock.”
“S-so big,” you muttered, squeezing your eyes closed and trying to relax the frantic fluttering of your core muscles around the blissful intrusion. “Hard. Can’t- can’t…”
“Cockdumb already?” Silco asked, a flood of amusement momentarily overshadowing the heat in his voice. “If I’d known all it took was to let you be on top, I would have done this after our-”
You never found out exactly what he was going to say, because you braced your knees, tensed the muscles of your thighs, and started to move. Silco cursed again, but you couldn’t hear him over the white noise blasting through your ears at the feeling of you breaking yourself open on his thick length.
If Silco’s cock felt revolutionary in you before, feeling him in motion was nothing short of miraculous. And when you paired it with the fact that you controlled the specifics of that motion? Well, any thoughts of speech were left far behind you. Your only goal was to move.
You mindlessly worked yourself up and down on his length, doing your best to control your breathing. You kept slipping toward outright panting, but you were inclined to give yourself a break. It was hard to breathe when it felt like the flared head of Silco’s cock was spearing its way toward your lungs.
All of that effort to seem unaffected was wasted, though. Silco’s hands drifted from your hips to your waist, and then up to your breasts. His thumbs teased at your nipples and you barked out a curse as your hard-won rhythm stuttered. After a moment to process the added sparks of sensation, you managed to regain yourself, but it was edging toward being too much for you. The sheer mass of information barreling into your brain from your current position made you fight to keep your impending orgasm at bay.
And then he pinched your nipple and your cunt clenched around him. Silco hissed, his hands flying to grip your waist as he thrust up into you even while he guided your body down to meet his. The intensity and depth of his strokes sent you careening dangerously close to the edge of coming.
One of Silco’s hands slid down between where your bodies were frantically joining and separating. He parted your lips and sought through your heat until he brushed the tip of a finger against your clit. You gasped, hips stuttering once more, but he didn’t let up. He circled his fingers over and around that tight bundle of nerves, the most sensitive part of your body, until you were frantic with the need to come.
“Sil-”
It was all you could get out before your inner muscles clamped down on him. You tipped your head back and wailed with the strength of your orgasm, momentarily blinded by the impossible intensity of it. Even through the buzz of pure pleasure soaking your brain, you could feel your inner muscles dancing over his length, milking him for the cum he apparently wasn’t ready to give up.
Silco fucked you through your orgasm, tearing his cock from you despite how hard your cunt tried to keep him captive. Before your body could feel too empty, he returned, pushing back into you with a brutality you would call cruel if you couldn’t hear the growing desperation in his breathing.
With much less strain than you would have expected, Silco pulled you up and off of his shining length, settling you on his lap just behind it. His cock was pressed between the two of you. Even panting and half-dazed from the strength of your orgasm, you took him into your hand, jerking him off with quick, purposeful strokes.
Silco bared his chipped teeth at you, a fearsome sight if he hadn’t been just as drunk on pleasure as you were. A moment later, his cock twitched against your palm and he came. Jets of cum spurted over your fingers, dripping down your fingers and across your wrist and forearm before he was done. When you were both left panting in the quiet office, you slumped forward against Silco’s chest with your cum-covered hand still lying between you.
It felt odd, sitting like this. Certainly more intimate than the other encounters you had with the self-proclaimed leader of Piltover’s undercity. The other times you had been together, Silco had pushed away from you the moment he was finished. He never fully undressed, so he could wipe himself clean, refasten his trousers, and be done with it. This time, he was just as bare as you, his chin pressed against your cheek while you nestled in the space between his shoulder and his neck.
You felt… at ease like this. Maybe that was the wrong way to describe it, but you felt like a person in a post-coital situation with another person instead of the leader of a rehabilitation center for Shimmer addicts who just got done fucking the Eye of Zaun to fulfill a contract governing Shimmer distribution. It was a nice change, you reflected as you took a deep breath of Silco’s scent - cigars and the electric edge of distilled Shimmer, along with fresh sweat and the smell of sex.
Silco took a deep breath, his chest pressing against your breasts as it expanded with oxygen. “I have a meeting.”
“I remember,” you said a moment later. The short, almost civil conversation was enough to destroy the fragile serenity between you two, and you slid from his lap before he stood as well.
Silco began to get dressed as you glanced around for a subtle way to wipe the cum from your hand. You realized with a start that your typical option of wearing it didn’t rankle the way it normally did. Even more concerning, you wouldn’t mind taking a quick taste. In fact, your mouth watered at the thought of doing exactly that…
A hand appeared in the corner of your vision and you glanced quickly to find Silco offering his handkerchief to you. You accepted it wordlessly and wiped your hand thoroughly, ignoring the small part of you that was disappointed that you wouldn’t find out what his cum tasted like. With that done, you dressed quickly, managing to finish before Silco.
“Thirty days,” Silco told you sternly, still working to fasten his vest.
“Thirty days,” you confirmed. “Enjoy your meeting.”
And then you left his office, closing the door firmly behind yourself. The trip down the narrow staircase was short and quiet, and the only other person you saw was Sevika, who gave you an impersonal nod as she passed by on her way to Silco’s office.
When you stepped back into the main room of the Last Drop, it was as abandoned as you would expect to find a bar in the early hours of the afternoon. There were only two occupants: a bartender who ducked in and out as she set up for the night’s business, and a small girl with blue hair sitting on one of the stools in front of the bar.
You did your best to impersonate Sevika, nodding wordlessly at the bartender. She gave you a curious look before she retreated to a back room.
“Who are you?”
You blinked, momentarily thinking that the question had come from the now-departed bartender, but soon refocused on the real speaker: the blue-haired girl.
“No one,” you told her with a shrug, walking quickly through the room.
“Why are you coming out of my dad’s office?” she asked, following behind you.
“Your… dad?” you asked slowly, trying to put the pieces together quickly enough to sound coherent. The only person who would have an office in the Last Drop would be Silco, and he wasn’t a father. Was he a father? Surely not. He was the subject of half the gossip in Piltover’s undercity. You would have heard if he had a child, especially one who looked to be around ten years old.
“Yeah,” that ten year-old confirmed with the sarcasm of someone much older. “His office. You know, the place where you just came from?”
You gave a halfhearted chuckle at that. “I- I had a meeting with him.”
“A business meeting?” she pressed.
“Yes.”
Silco was going to murder you if he knew you were lying about him, but he had said he kept his personal business private. How could he really blame you for being accosted by a small child who had claimed - or, at least, heavily implied - that he was her father? You gritted your teeth, quickening your pace through the room. He shouldn’t blame you, not at all, but that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t do it anyway.
The girl ran up, her footsteps light as she moved around you to plant herself in your path, looking up at you with undisguised skepticism. “You don’t look like a chem baron.”
That startled you into reacting. Unfortunately, you reacted with a short, surprised laugh. “I most certainly am not a chem baron.”
“Then what business are you in?” she asked. “Dad doesn’t just meet with anyone.”
This was his daughter? She could be a miniature enforcer with how persistent she was. You tried to step around her, but she moved with you. Now that you had stopped, it was going to be much more difficult to get away from her. Your mistake.
“Oh, you know,” you explained vaguely, shifting around in a bid to find a weakness in her defenses. “We have a deal on the table and have to meet to make sure the terms are being met, talk about how the last month went, make plans for the upcoming month, renegotiate if we need to…”
“Are you a prostitute?” the girl asked bluntly.
“What? No, of course not!” you denied immediately, then thought better of it. You were having sex with Silco in exchange for something you wanted. Maybe that something wasn’t money, but Shimmer sales were tied so closely to currency that maybe it wasn’t worth quibbling over the difference. It was a topic for later introspection, but not here and certainly not with a young child who may or may not be Silco’s daughter.
The questionable daughter was undeterred by your internal debate. “Then who are you?”
You frowned, ready to turn the question back on its asker. Who was this child really? If she was Silco’s daughter, did she just live in the Last Drop? Did he bring his child to a bar where seedy things happened in off hours and in back rooms? Surely not…
“Jinx.” The girl turned to the door you had come through. You didn’t bother looking back. From the automatic tension in your shoulders and spine, you knew exactly who had spoken. “What are you doing here?”
The girl, presumably Jinx, shrugged. “I was just looking around.”
“I’ll be down to check on your experiment in less than an hour,” Silco said, and you would have smiled at the sternness in his voice if you weren’t so worried about your own well-being. “Is this the best use of your time?”
“No,” Jinx admitted, voice sulky as she started to walk toward Silco and the back rooms of the Last Drop.
“Nice meeting you,” you said automatically, the phrase appearing uninvited. It was a leftover reflex from far too many fundraising meetings. Jinx frowned at you, seeming confused by the courtesy. You could see her wondering if you were mocking her and sent her a neutrally pleasant face in return.
Before Jinx could respond - if she had been planning to - Silco’s sharp voice lashed through the room. “Don’t talk to her.”
You would have wondered if that was directed toward you or Jinx, but it was plain as you heard Silco’s voice soften significantly when he said, “Wait for me in your laboratory. I’ll be there shortly.”
Jinx replied quietly to him, but you couldn’t focus on what she was saying, too busy whirring this new development around in your mind. Silco had a daughter. The most dangerous man in the undercity was a father… and somehow, no one seemed to have any idea about it. How had he managed to keep such an inquisitive child a secret?
Abruptly realizing the quiet that had settled over the abandoned bar, you took a few quick steps toward the door but were stopped before you could even hope to reach it.
“Wait.”
You were under no real obligation to obey Silco, but you also didn’t think that open insubordination was the correct answer. Faced with an utter lack of options, you waited. Your tension only grew as you heard Silco’s slow, deliberate footsteps working their way closer to you.
As he stepped up beside you, you glanced over at him. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“I’ve kept her hidden away. No one can know.” You understood that much, but didn’t say anything. The too-bright light in Silco’s eyes kept you quiet. “You mustn’t tell anyone. It’s not safe.”
“I didn’t know you cared about anyone’s safety but your own,” you said carefully.
“I didn’t before,” he admitted freely. “Now I care about two people: myself and Jinx. So if I hear that word has gotten out about her, I’ll know exactly who shared the information.”
“I assume death is the punishment for that.”
“An exceedingly slow one.” Silco leaned close to you, closer than he ever had been other than when he was actually inside of you. “And if I catch you speaking to her again, our deal will be nullified outright.”
The contract enthusiast in you had other questions - on whose terms would it be nullified? You hadn’t built any penalties or repercussions into the contract… would he still increase the amount of Shimmer on the streets higher than ever or would he still be governed by his agreement to keep Shimmer from the Haven’s neighborhood? - but you bit them back. Silco was not a man to be trifled with at the best of times, and this was not the best of times.
“I understand,” you agreed. “No one will learn about her, not from me.”
Silco nodded, studying you carefully. The tension had not left you, some long-buried instinct warning you that the danger had not yet passed. And that was correct. If you were Silco, trying to keep the existence of a weakness secret, and someone outside of your organization had just learned about that weakness? The temptation to close that loop permanently would be strong, for sake of safety if nothing else.
With one last hard stare from his mutated eye, Silco jerked his chin toward the door of the Last Drop. “Get out.”
You had never been happier to follow an order in your entire life.
---
A/N - Did I plan to post this exactly thirty days after Part Three? Maybe. It definitely sounds better than 'I've given myself a crazy writing schedule and this is the earliest I could manage to put this chapter out.
Hear me out: Yknow the cliche/iconic villain thing where they spin around in a chair and are petting a cat? That with a vastayan reader just chilling in Silco’s lap
I can't believe I made it. I can't believe I've gotten here. I can’t believe you bastards got me here. To the age of the catgirl.
SFW; Catgirl!Reader, show-dialogue, established relationship, fluff, and bit crack-y, probably the only catgirl fic you'll see on this blog so enjoy it, it's like Hailey's comet, once in a lifetime Catgirl Gal-fic
"You were supposed to follow them and not interfere."
A slight gurgle and frantic apology, one that had your ear twitch reflexively towards the sound. Not that you could really find yourself caring all that much, your forehead absently burrowing deeper against a warm shoulder. Close to the crook of his neck, but never quite in it...
Even though the idea makes you purr as your tail lazily sways behind you. You imagine you'd fit perfectly against him, the softness to fill in all the harsh, sharp lines of this man. But nothing, not even the sunshine on the warmest roof on the Fringe, could compare to the warmth you get from straddling with your legs across Silco's lap as he so casually condemned the stray being slowly choked in the seat.
"Now his accomplice is asking questions - about you." Curved nails drew small circles on his back from where your arms looped around his shoulders. It was a decent distraction, and good trade for the pleasure of his bodyheat as you heard the telling-prick of the injector sound, his body barely twitching as he applies it.
No one else sees it. But you feel it, and knead your palms against his back with another rumbling hum in your chest.
And no one sees that, but you know he feels it, based on the slight relief of tension flowing out of his form.
"And that's not a risk," Silco murmurs, pulling the needle from his eye after the allotted time, the mask of a cold, detached dead-man seemingly unbreakable, even as you nose just-against his collarbone, a small huff slipping through your nose as his scent envelopes you, and you feel your eyes start to slip close. "... that I'm willing to take."
You should be paying attention, you know full-well. He'd no doubt seek your advice shortly, among other things, about what to do about the eyes peering in the direction of the operation. About how to combat this new complication, because Janna knows the questions won't stop coming, and attention is the last thing Silco needs right now...
But paying attention is also the last thing you want to do right now. It's too hard too, after long days and even longer nights in this operation, and though you're often at his side, being in his grasp is a luxury Silco can't often give you.
Not because he doesn't want to. But building an empire from the shadows doesn't exactly give too many opportunities for cuddles, hence why you took the initiative to take a seat in his lap, and ignore everything else in the world...
That was, until you felt him stiffen. "That was them?" Your ear twitched again when you heard the slight rasp in his tone, and, though you already felt chilled when you pulled your head back, gazing up to see his expression. And you felt a bit disappointed at having missed the initial report the kid had made, in order to make Silco's expression become like... that.
Silco's body was warm, pleasantly so, but his eyes were now enflamed. Both the forever-red and the blue you could never get enough of, were flaring with intrigue, opportunity and a bright glint that seemed to say 'at last.'
You hadn't seem such a look in Silco's eyes, not often, and particularly, not to such an extent that it seemed to flare from his body to yours, unebbing, and far more heated than the mere bodyheat the man could provide.
"Vander's in trouble," Silco seemed to murmur languishingly to the air, but the light danced off his ruined iris as he glanced down at you, and a million-and-one words seemed to pass in that half of a heartbeat with your connected gazes.
Words of promise, words of satisfaction, longing and desire for what he'd been waiting for, but only one word caught your attention: Soon.
Fangs glinted in the light at the silent promise, and you didn't even growl at the annoyance of his paitent squeeze at your hip, asking you to get off in order for him to stand. You couldn't resist dragging the tip of your tail past his cheek as you smoothly - like a cat, you thought with a growing smirk - slipped off his lap and regretfully away from the delightful warmth Silco provided.
Not all of it disappeared though.
The flame glinted off your slit-pupiled eyes, and his own mismatched gaze in the darkness. The flames of opportunity, of fruition...
They’d start asking questions and you’d have to tell them that you’d let the Eye of Zaun take you and keep you. Because you know something got left there with him, the cruelest thing he could have done to you.
Maybe torture would have been easier. Giving up information would have been less shameful than this.
Reader picks up something new, Silco gets offered a deal.
@sweatandwoe helps me control my unga bunga monkey brain from writing "cock" as "sock" thanks b
Last Part
AO3 Link
Next Part
Silco/f!Reader
3,297 Words - NSFW
Collar and Leash, P in V, Oral f!Receiving, Feelings...?
---
Silco, to his immense credit though you were loath to give him any, let you go after only a few minutes of holding you in his lap. It didn’t take much for you to coax him to go to bed, the acts you’d performed having worn him out more than he expected. Without him asking for it, you promised him quietly that you’d be nearby when he woke.
When you’re sure he’s back to his quarters and you’re left alone on his couch with your pants hastily pulled on, you make your move. Silco’s jacket is still hanging on a hook near his desk, and the pants he was wearing were way too tight to fit any money on his actual person. That’s how you’re entirely sure that somewhere in the folds of his jacket is some form of currency you can snatch.
As you’re rifling through the pockets, you pause for a moment and glance at the door. It’s closed, and there’s no footsteps in the hall. You take your chances and lean in, burying your nose where his neck sits in the collar. It smells good. Like cigars, something woodsy. Dark. It’s Silco in essence, and you spend far more than your fair share of time inhaling it before you force yourself back to the matter at hand.
Money.
In one of the inner pockets is just what you’re looking for - a velvet pouches that jingles when you grab it, and after a quick count you see that it’s more than enough for what you need it for. New clothes, different boots that don’t have holes, and a special treat for yourself that aligns with the plans you have for Silco.
Seeing him under you earlier lit something inside you, gave you a horrible, wretched idea that would cement the next steps you’d take afterward.
Being midday, there’s no one in the Drop to accost you as you leave except two of his employees that barely even glance at you before they go back to their hushed conversation. It bothers you a bit that they don’t seem fazed at your presence. Had Silco told them about you being here? If so, what was his reasoning?
Not having all the details makes it all the more frustrating. You’d gone to his office to get information, and instead you wound up watching him tug his dick before sitting on his face. At least I know how that nose feels, your thoughts wander to the small mercies as you find somewhere suitable to outfit yourself.
When you’re outfitted, and you discard your old clothes right into the alleyway, you make a beeline to your other stop. A small building you only know of from passing it, but it’s obvious enough what it sells - even during the daylight hours. The attendant doesn’t ask if you need help, you don’t ask them for help, and when you’ve hastily grabbed what you need you spend Silco’s money on his own downfall.
Or, you hope it is, if he cooperates like you think he will. You’re prepared to make him an offer he’ll likely not refuse, but if he does it’ll tell you exactly where you stand. It’ll tell you that you need to leave, because there won’t be anything there for you - beneath the roof of the Last Drop, inside the four walls of his office, close enough to his side that your connection to him is unmistakable.
No. You’re not willing to make that sacrifice without something in return, and that something comes in the form of a nondescript bag tied shut and dangling from your fingertips.
Silco’s passed out cold by the time you slip into the dark rooms and toe your new boots off. The sun’s already begun to set, and it’s that odd time of evening where it’s dark enough to be difficult to navigate, but not late enough for businesses to open and their neon lights to flicker on and illuminate the Lanes.
Against your better judgment, against really every single bone in your body telling you it’s a bad idea, you strip, grab Silco’s shirt from where he’d tossed it on the floor, and buttoned it up as a makeshift nightgown. It’s just long enough to keep you modest, but that doesn’t matter when you’re crawling into bed next to him and dropping your head to the pillows.
You’re exhausted, probably an aftereffect of that accelerated healing that Silco’d touted as one of the capabilities of the shimmer you’d taken. Silco doesn’t move at your arrival, and you relish the small bit of space you allow between your body and his, if only because it acts as a buffer for your already fraying nerves.
Why are you nervous?
Your dreams are strange, and far more vivid than you’re used to. Ekko, sneering at you in the alleyway as he rightfully accuses you of betrayal. Silco taking his place, beckoning you with honeyed words meant to target your weakness for him. Neon lights that turn from blue to green to spinning red that pins you in place and makes you feel like you’re trapped in its spiral.
And physically, you feel just as trapped. Your limbs feel pinned to your side by a weight, and it's as you come to that you realize it’s Silco having sought you out in his sleep. Or, judging by the movements of his hands, not sleep.
“Couldn’t stay away?”
“This is the only bed I know of and the couch in the office had your bare ass on it,” You respond, voice thickened with sleep. It didn’t feel like much, but the slow movements of his hand against your stomach is beginning to lull you back into it.
And then he has to go and speak again, “For someone so hostile toward me, you were making some sweet sounds in your sleep. My name, specifically.”
“I was probably telling you to go get bent-”
“Sure, whatever you’d like,” Silco’s voice breezes at your ear as he slides closer, slotting his front to your back, “But you still haven’t pushed me away.”
And you don’t. Your shoulders relax minutely with every pass of his palm over your skin. At first it’s just your stomach, but you notice immediately as he starts to move lower by tiny little increments. As if the growing pressure against your ass wasn’t telling enough of what he was thinking.
But the bag is sitting on the nightstand, and your attention is focused on that even as his fingertips graze the apex of your thighs without more than a featherlight touch - an initial pass to gauge your reaction before he presses further. You don’t make a sound.
“You’re thinking of something. I can nearly hear it.”
“Thinking about how I can shut you up again.”
Silco’s laugh rumbles against your spine pleasantly, and you rankle at the fact that you like it far too much. The façade breaks the moment his fingers glide along your clit, one on each side as he goes. It feels good, but you can’t afford to be distracted with his long fingers inching closer to your pussy.
“You’re a businessman, or at least on the outside,” You start, voice clipped to avoid showing the pleasure he’s already giving you. Silco hums in acknowledgment, so you continue, “I’ve got a deal for you.”
“Does it involve what we’re doing now, or are you trying to change the subject?”
“Depends on your answer,” And your fingers find his wrist to make him be still. Silco doesn’t quite listen to your silent order, and instead his fingers rub circles where he can reach. Pulling him away is met with some resistance, but once you turn your body and slide from his grip, Silco gets the point.
Pushing up on one elbow, he watches as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and reach for the bag on the nightstand. Immediately his gaze narrows as you pick the knot open and reach your hand inside.
“Loyalty. That’s what’s most important to you, isn’t it?”
“Most of the time. I’m focused on something else, currently.”
“Yeah, getting your dick wet, I know,” You look over your shoulder at him, making sure he sees how unimpressed you are with his response, “Loyalty and control. That’s what you like, apparently it’s what gets you off-”
“I showed you but a few hours ago I can be… flexible in my preferences.”
“Show me again,” And you drop the contents of the bag in front of him on the bed, the chain jingling against itself far too cheerily for what it’s implying. Silco’s eyes watch it for a long moment, his jaw working the words over in his mouth with rhythmic flexes of the muscle.
Finally, he looks to you, far less coy than he’d been only a few moments before, “And what do I get in return?”
“Me. Just like you want.”
Silco regards you with one brow lifted, the other side unmoving. It’s a look of curiosity, one you haven’t seen on him very often - not that you made it a habit to catalog his expressions, they just happened to ingrain themselves into your brain unwillingly. The wheels in his mind are turning, picking the exact words that will prod at you in just the right way. You hate that he knows how to do it so well, while somehow successfully beckoning you closer to his side.
The call to your bluff comes to him rather easily, enough that you wonder if he’s had the words prepared all along, just in case the situation ever arose for him to target your sensibilities, “You’re unaware of the things I want with you. How far that trench really runs.”
“Put it on, and then you can show me,” Your challenge goes unanswered for a long moment, enough that you start to think you’ve pushed him too far, asked for too much. Then he’s sitting up, propped on one outstretched hand while he reaches for the leather item with the other. It goes on easily, without your help, and you wonder if he’s ever done it before.
Judging by the tension in his muscles, you have a feeling the answer is yes, but not on himself.
“Satisfied?”
Silco’s answer is the sound of the chain gliding over itself as you pick the end up and wrap it around your hand once. Enough to hold it tightly, but not nearly enough to tug him with it. Deliberately, you get to your feet and stand next to the bed, the position putting you above him as your eyes follow the length of the chain in your hand to the leather of the collar he now wore.
A promise; If Silco can let you have this bit of control, show that he can relinquish it as much as he wants it, then perhaps things could work the way he sees them. If you don’t feel trapped here, then maybe you’d be more inclined to stay. That point is obvious enough that he can see it, too.
“Well? You got me all dressed up to simply look at me?”
“Would that be so bad? You’re not hard on the eyes, Silco.”
An upward tilt of his lips comes before his words, “What was the remark you said last night? About my stupid fucking nose?”
“I said it was stupid, not unattractive. Especially after what you did with it earlier. Now, come,” And you punctuate your sentence with a tug of the leash - not hard, not enough to topple him over like your first instinct had been. But Silco gets the point, and he crawls toward you until the chain isn’t taught anymore.
You lift one foot to the bed, bracing against it, tilting your hips, and spreading your legs to show your lack of undergarments, as well as your intentions for him, “And I want you to do it again. With feeling.”
“Now you want feelings involved?” Silco looks up at you, red and blue full of far more intent than you expect, and you immediately regret your words. Instead of berating you about your turn of phrase, Silco leans in and buries his face between your thighs just like you wanted. There’s an implication there that you’re not ready to explore - not until you’re satisfied physically.
Silco’s hand reaches to your raised thigh, but before he makes contact you jerk it away and grab his wrist with your free hand. When he goes to pull away and question you, you lean forward to follow him while answering, “If you touch me, it’s with your face and your tongue. Nothing else unless I say so.”
His low laugh rumbles against your cunt, hitting you in more ways than just physically, but he doesn’t try again. Just like you wanted, his nose presses against you and grinds against your clit at the same time his tongue presses flat against your entrance. Instead of suppressing your sounds like you’d thought of, you instead reward him with a hum of pleasure.
Even while wearing his underclothes, you can see his arousal straining at the seam, likely from when he’d first woken up before. Silco’s not paying any attention to that though, both hands firmly digging into the sheets to support himself as he leans under your heat and gives you that feeling you spoke of. Pleasure and something else, mysterious until you settle down to take a closer look.
You don’t, though. Instead you card a hand through his hair to grab his attention, waiting until his eyes flick up to you, and you gesture with your hand still wrapped in the chain toward himself, “Touch yourself while you do it. If I finish before you do, I’ll let you fuck me.”
You nearly lose your balance with how he pushes into you, both from his eagerness and the shift of his weight to one hand while he grabs his cock through the fabric with the other. The laughter isn’t something you can stop before it comes, and you nearly sound giddy with it. Silco’s eyes crinkle just a bit at the corners where you can see, and your stomach twists uncomfortably at the familiarity of it all.
Thoughts for later, you hiss at yourself as you wrap the chain a bit tighter around your hand, enough that it’s taught to keep him exactly where he needs to be. Though he wasn’t trying to pull away, only grinding against your clit and curling his tongue to where he can reach, heavy breaths audible with his groans.
You don’t fight any of the pleasure he gives you, nor do you stave off the orgasm that’s coming on quickly from both his work and the sight of his hand stroking along his cock in time with the press of his tongue. And he’s watching you, eyes locked up at your expression the entire time, unwavering.
It’s not harsh or electric. Your orgasm rolls over you in gentle waves that have you sighing rather than keening, his name rolling off the tongue either way as your head rolls back. As you tug him closer by the hair and let the chain grow lax, Silco’s on you instantly with clutching fingers and more force than you expect in your newfound haze.
“How?”
The saliva in your mouth feels thick as you swallow it and look up at him from where he’d dragged you to the bed. A beat passes as you form an answer, one that makes his eyes widen and his soaked lips stretch into a real smile - not a smirk or a sneer like you’re used to.
“You did what I asked you to. However you want.”
The world spins as you’re flipped over and pressed into the mattress by Silco’s weight. His hand glides through your folds, gathering the arousal and saliva left behind to lubricate his cock with a few quick strokes. The weight increases against you just as the stretch starts, the new position affording you no wiggle room to pull away or push back onto him.
Just as he presses flush against you, the chiming sound of the chain moving catches your attention. When you snap your eyes open, it’s dangling in front of your face. Silco speaks against your ear, causing goosebumps along your skin as his lips brush the shell, “Go on then. It’s yours.”
Those words alone should have been enough for you to say no, to push him off and rethink this new problem you’re creating. But you don’t. Your hand unclenches from the sheets and catches it with a grip that leaves red marks along your skin from the pressure. Almost like he’s testing the boundaries, Silco starts to shift away from you to sit upright.
You yank him back, harsher than intended but he doesn’t make a single sound of protest. In fact, you can feel him twitch inside you, and that seals the deal for you to keep him close, to use his weight to keep yourself pinned beneath him despite holding the reins. Another jerk, this one far lighter but enough for him to get the hint, and Silco pulls out enough for his following thrust to make an audible clap of skin against skin.
The succeeding ones are just as loud, just as vicious. Silco’s generous with the sounds he’s making, his proximity sending them right to your ears and nowhere else, only for you to enjoy. You feel special, just for a moment, before he tilts his angle and you’re not feeling anything besides a biting pleasure that he’s responsible for.
“F-Fuck, Silco-”
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Me inside you, stretching you perfectly, filling you over and over again?” Silco’s taunting is far too smooth for the rough pace he’s giving you, but the unsteadiness starts to creep in as you clench around him, “No one will feel as good as I do. Now that you’ve had me, you’ll come back again and again. You’ve got your leash on me physically, but I’ve got mine on you metaphorically. You’re mine.”
That shouldn’t have made you orgasm. Those words shouldn’t have twisted your insides in the way that they did until you’re seeing stars and making horrible, keening noises into the bedspread. Silco’s hand wraps under your chin, lifting your face until you’re no longer muffled, “Don’t… Don’t hide them, let me hear you. Let everyone hear whose name you're screaming.”
It’s his, of course it is. Even as his pace stutters and he releases inside just like he promised he would, you’re still sighing his name. And when he pulls out and leaves you to grab whatever piece of clothing is closest on the floor for you to clean yourself off with, you thank him by that name too. As he shifts you beneath the sheets and holds you closer than you’re sure you want him to, you murmur his name until he makes a sound showing he’s heard you.
That he’s listening.
“We gotta talk about this. Without fucking.”
“There’s room for both,” Silco’s voice shifts the hairs at the back of your neck. Something that feels like vomit rises in your throat. You don’t respond, even as his breaths even out and he’s fallen asleep. Even when you should have told him you were serious, that some things were said during that which needed to be talked about, you shut down instead.
Despite his jeer, you tell yourself you’re sticking to it. Talk first, have sex later. Your nerves won’t be able to take it otherwise while you second-guess and read too far into every action and word.
All you need is for him to say with finality that it’s only physical.
You've been running messages for Silco for a while now, but your boss still manages to fluster you in new and exciting ways every time you meet.
TAGLIST: E rating; Silco /Reader; Silco /Original Male Character(s); (its sort of both); Trans Male Character; Vaginal Sex; Under-negotiated Kink; Asphyxiation; Canon-Typical Violence; Creampie; Scars; Cigars; Smoking
read on AO3 here
~~~
Something about the Last Drop makes it seem like it’s always dusk, no matter the time of day. A glance at your fancy pocket watch (which you lifted from some clueless Piltovian a while back) shows it’s actually late afternoon, despite the low light barely making it through the tinted windows and the loud music pumping from the jukebox.
You take a sip of your cocktail -- you don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s virgin, since you’re on the clock -- and survey the room. You recognise some regulars, but none you’re terribly friendly with. You’re about to spin in your stool to order something fruitier when you see the crowd part around an even more familiar face, which was twisted into a grim frown.
“There you are,” Sevika grunts, the crease between her eyebrows as deep as ever.
“Here I am,” you reply dryly, despite the fact that this is where you stay for most of the night. “Got a message?”
She hands over a metal tube wordlessly. You take it, rolling it over in your hands to view the recipient -- Corsius Lorenz, a mid-level chem-baron, rich but not overly powerful. Not one of the regular destinations, but you’re familiar. You give Sevika a nod.
“He wants a reply ASAP,” she continues, crossing her arms over her chest, “so hang around and wait for it. Don’t take too long.”
“I never do,” you answer, no longer looking at her as you slide the message into the leather case at your hip. Turning to head out, you spare her one last glance to see the unamused look on her face as you pull your goggles down over your eyes and push open the door.
---
The cracked cement sidewalks are wet from a recent rain, your boots splashing through puddles as you pick up speed. The afternoon sun has already worked to turn much of it to humidity, the air muggy around your face. You quickly hoist yourself up a dumpster, then jump to catch hold of a gutter to pull yourself to the roof. It’s a bit cooler up here, and with less foot traffic you should be able to make it to your destination quicker.
You’ve been running messages for Silco for a few years now. Before this you were a pickpocket, and a pretty good one, until you ended up getting caught in the act by one of the heavy shimmer users in the Sump. You could stand up in a fight, sure, but with the drug in his system you knew you were outmatched, so you opted to run instead.
Running for your life wasn’t unfamiliar, at the time, but what was unfamiliar was turning a corner and running headlong into someone else. Not that many people traveled down there, and those who did usually got out of your way when you ran into them, but this time you found yourself face to face with one of the most powerful men in the lanes, and you didn’t quite know what to say. He looked at you like he’d caught you on purpose, his hands gripping your elbows a little tighter than comfortable. You threw a glance over your shoulder, waiting for the chempunk to catch up and pound you into the pavement, mumbling a few apologies and stumbling over yourself to explain.
Silco had just stared down at you, face blank. “I know,” he said to you. “I saw you running. You’re quite fast.”
You weren’t quite sure what to say to that. The punk caught up, then, though you didn’t look back at him, staring up at Silco instead, who broke eye contact to throw the thug a withering glare. After a second, you heard the guy back down, slinking away, and Silco looked back down at you.
“Do you, by chance, need a job?”
Apparently, he'd recently lost his previous messenger, and he was getting a bit desperate to find someone who could get a covert message across town and a response back faster than his usual goons, and more reliably than someone sped up with shimmer. Of course you’d accepted. Steady income beat pickpocketing any day, even if it was less thrilling. And since then, you’d been running messages for him.
The first few hundred messages were sealed with a code he'd previously shared with his circle, but these days he's downgraded to a tamper seal. Honestly, you don't care to see what's inside the tubes you run, but Sevika still doesn't seem to trust that you'll even show up every day, so you understand the need for such measures. You idly wonder if they'll ever forego the safeguards altogether as you launch yourself over a gap between buildings. Probably not. Not enough facetime with the boss to gain a repertoire.
You hook your hands on the eaves of the roof you've landed on, then drop down, swinging through the baron's open window and into the hallway in front of his office, startling a tall man standing guard there. The first time you did that, the window was closed. You never did find out if the guy billed your boss for the broken window.
"Mail service," you explain to the guard, holding up the leather case. He holds out his hand, but you shake your head. "I was told to deliver this to Mr. Lorenz personally."
"He's in a meeting," the guard answers, pushing his hand forward again. You pull the tube back.
"Silco said Corsius was to receive it immediately," you insist, letting the threat of your boss seep into your voice.
The guy's face drops a bit, and he hesitates before turning to lightly rap on the door he was guarding. He pokes his head in and speaks a few words before turning back around to open the door for you.
You give him a two-finger wave as you pass, smile dripping with condescension.
---
You check your watch again as you reenter the Last Drop; halfway across Zaun and back in just over an hour. Not bad, all things considered. Pulling up your goggles, you climb the stairs to pass the reply message to Sevika, but find that she's not at her usual post outside Silco's door. You turn around to scan the crowd -- a bit larger than when you left, a bit rowdier -- but you don't spot her anywhere.
Generally, you don't actually deliver messages directly to Silco. In fact, you've rarely actually seen the man in person since you were hired, only entering his office on the rare occasion Sevika wasn't present, or when he'd asked something to be delivered personally. And, honestly, that suits you just fine. Sevika isn't nice, but she's professional, and while she may not trust you she at least respects you enough that she hasn't tried to kill you yet. Silco, though...
Silco makes you... Nervous.
Well, Silco makes everyone nervous. And for good reason -- everyone has heard the stories, but those under his employ don’t have to work for him long to see their employer’s mercilessness firsthand. You especially have reason to be concerned, since you only got your job as Silco’s runner after he received some bad news and quite literally killed the messenger.
But aside from that, you’ve found your boss makes you nervous in a different way. The way that bicolored gaze pins you against the door when you walk in, how his sharp teeth dig into the cigar in his mouth as he reads, his long cold fingertips brushing yours when he hands you the tube containing whatever response he wishes you to deliver...
Clearing your throat, you knock on his door yourself, trying not to think too hard about it. You stand there for a moment, listening. There’s shuffling inside, and voices, but no response to your knock. Frowning, you knock again, harder this time, and the door shifts, not having been fully latched. You hesitate for a moment. But curiosity tends to get the better of you, and, well... you have a message to deliver, after all.
With a gentle poke, the door swings open a few inches, enough for you to peek through. Silco is there, in front of his desk, leaning back against it with his arms folded across his chest. His usual dramatic coat is hung over his desk chair, leaving him in a dress shirt and vest, with the sleeves of the shirt rolled up to his elbows. There’s a chunky ring on one pinky finger, which he spins idly as he speaks.
In a chair across from his desk sits another man -- one of the higher-ranking thugs in his employ. You think he was supposed to be running one of the shimmer factories, but he was sitting here talking to Silco instead, elbows on his wide-set knees and shoulders hunched. He was scratched up and bruised, with a little purple sheen to his hair and skin.
You idly wonder how much shimmer would have to be applied topically for it to have an effect. Maybe something exploded. Those machines always looked volatile, though you’d never really bothered to learn how they worked.
Silco is clearly chewing the guy out, and you can’t help but watch him. An eyebrow twitches, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. The guy sits up with his hands out, saying something with a shrug. The hand by Silco’s face clenches to a fist, and his eyes close as he speaks again. The guy jumps up, getting in Silco’s space, chest puffed out like he’s challenging a rival thug to a fight. Your face drops in shock. Silco’s fist tightens, and his eye opens just a crack.
Barely a second passes before that fist is around the thug’s throat, lifting him off the floor. Silco really doesn’t look that strong, but aside from the tensing of his forearm he doesn’t seem to have any trouble at all, manhandling this guy around. This guy who’s got at least a few inches on you, not to mention muscle. You swallow thickly, one hand straying to your own throat. The thug’s hands scrabble at Silco’s, but your boss doesn’t lose his grip. He says something else -- really close to the guy’s face now, murmuring -- before throwing him to the ground, face twisted in disgust.
You prepare to back up as the guy coughs, assuming he’d take the hint and run off with his tail between his legs, but instead he moves to stand up on his knees, muttering something else at Silco then spitting at his feet. Silco’s eyes widen, and then he levels a swing at the guy, socking him in the face in a way that looked like he hadn’t even thought about it. The punch knocks him on his ass again, drawing blood from his nose, and Silco draws a knife from his belt, advancing on him. “Say that again,” you hear him say as he closes in. “Say that to me, one more fucking time--”
That gets the guy moving. He jumps to his feet and runs, shoving the door open and you aside with it. You hear a loud thunk, and turning your head you see the knife lodged into the wall next to the door, still wobbling from the impact.
You attempt for a second time to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, and realize that your hand is still against it. You also realize, in this moment, that the door is wide open, and Silco is looking at you, still panting a bit from the-- well, it doesn’t seem right to call something so one-sided a fight, really. From the altercation.
After a tense moment you clear your throat, weakly holding up your leather case. “...Message for you, Sir.”
He sighs, one hand coming up to rub two fingers between his eyebrows. His free hand motions for you to enter. “Close the door behind you, yes?”
The door clicks closed behind you, and you trot over to his desk, fiddling the satchel open to withdraw the tube. Silco circles around his desk to sit in his high-back office chair, elbows on the arms as he extends the bloody hand to you.
You stop beside him, watching a drop of blood roll to his knuckle, bead, and drop to the floor. It looks like the impact split the dry skin of his hands, and a bit of it is his own. The lump in your throat is back, bigger.
“Runner.” His voice is low, and gravelly, and irritated. It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know your name, or maybe it just doesn’t bother you. His fingers twitch towards you. “The message?”
“Oh. Right.” You can feel your face flush as you withdraw it from its pouch, placing it in his hand. “Sorry, sir.”
He hums, taking the tube and turning away to pop the seal on it. You turn to go, but he speaks again before you take a step, not looking away from the paper he's unrolling. “Stay.”
It’s just one word, but it stops you in your tracks. You let your eyes wander as he reads -- his knee bouncing under the desk, the still distracting blood on his knuckles, the piercing quality of his blue eye and the hypnotic draw of his scarred one. When he folds the letter in half you look away, up at the window behind his desk. It overlooks the bar below, but with the angle and the lights downstairs it's almost impossible to see in from down there. You’ve always assumed this was intentional.
He plants a hand on the desk, long fingers spread as he pushes himself back up to his feet. He takes a slow step towards you, then another, until he’s in your personal space. You keep your gaze forward, level with his chest, the knot of his cravat. You’re not sure if you’re breathing.
A beat, then you feel his cold fingers on your chin, holding a little tighter than comfortable. He tilts your head up to make eye contact, and your stomach flips. He’s leaned down a bit, so his face is very close to yours.
“Are you afraid, boy?”
You’re not sure what answer he’s looking for -- you never are -- so you just say the first thing that comes to mind; the truth.
“No, sir.”
He hums thoughtfully. Then he turns your head to the side, far enough so you’re looking towards the door, and the knife lodged in the wall next to it.
“That almost hit you,” he pointed out.
“Yes, sir.”
His hand loosens, sliding down to rest loosely on your throat. Your breath hitches.
“Interesting.”
He’s still watching you.
“I saw you peeking, you know.” There’s a little fear that jolts your veins as he says that, but you stay quiet. “How much did you hear?”
“Only when you yelled, sir. I wasn’t really listening.”
“Spying, but not listening?” One finger idly taps on your collarbone. Your skin has never felt this warm, especially in contrast to how cold his hand is. “I take it there’s something else you’re after, then.”
“N-No, sir.” Your voice wavers, and you suppress a wince. Hopefully that didn’t sound like a lie.
“Oh, I think there is.” His hand tightens, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make it clear his hand is fully wrapped around your throat, now. “You’re not very subtle, you know.”
"What do you--" His hand tightens on your throat, cutting off your words. Your eyes flutter, hands reaching up to rest on his wrist. Not resisting, just... holding.
"I've seen you looking." You can get the slightest bit of air, still, and you see his tongue dart out to wet his lips before he lifts you like he did the thug moments before. "The way you blush whenever you make a personal delivery. Sevika doesn't get to see that blush, does she?" Your toes drag the ground as he backs you up against the window, almost like he's leading you in a waltz, preparing for a dip. "But you're in rare form today, my dear. Who would have thought a little blood could be your undoing?"
The cool glass is against your back, and you let your head thunk against it. Your arms feel sluggish, and you're glad you have something to lean against. He releases your throat, then, and you draw in a deep gasp of air, closing your eyes as your face burns with embarrassment.
Is he going to kill you for ogling?
You briefly imagine your tombstone. 'Died as he lived - chasing after dangerous, unavailable and out-of-his-league men.'
"Tell me I'm wrong, messenger boy."
Maybe it's from the lack of oxygen to your brain, but you chuckle, shaking your head. "You're not, boss."
The words are barely out of your mouth when there are hands on your throat again, both of them this time, and his mouth is shoved harshly against yours. You make an embarrassing noise as heat flares in the pit of your stomach, and he immediately takes advantage, biting down on your lip with his sharp, chipped teeth. You groan, eyes rolling back, hands moving to loosely hang off his wrists.
He puts pressure on your throat again, and all your weight shifts to lie against the slightly angled window, knees falling open for Silco to move in. His tongue is in your mouth, and you can feel him press between your thighs. Your heart is beating too fast, your head feels a little fuzzy, and all you can do is groan into his mouth, shifting one foot to hook around his leg in an attempt to pull him closer.
He feels your chest gently shudder and lets up on the pressure again, and you break the kiss to let air flood your lungs. It goes in with a burn, and comes out with a quiet whine. He plants his hands on either side of your head on the window and yours loosely grip the lapels of his vest. His mouth is on your neck, sucking and biting a trail down the hollow of your throat. He says something in a low growl against your skin, but you can’t quite hear what.
You idly wonder if it’s possible he’s already killed you, and this is some sort of dream you’re having while you bleed out on his floor. Then Silco moves both his hands to your thighs and hikes them up to wrap around his waist, and you decide you don’t really care, because you can feel that he’s hard against you. You feel so hot, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel you soaking through your pants.
He runs his hands up your legs to grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting your back off the window as you help him slide it over your head. You shiver when your naked shoulders land back against the glass. Silco’s hands -- wide palms, long fingers, still cold -- lightly skate up your sides, then he drags his nails down your front, over the peaks and valleys of the array of scars there. You make another breathless sound, and he licks his lips, looking you over. It’s rare that anyone grows up in the rough parts of the undercity without getting at least a few scars, but you’re still a little self-conscious about yours, sometimes. You’re aware you likely have more than average.
You reach your hands up to his face, one threading in the hair at the back of his head while the other gently brushes over the scar on his face. He turns his head slightly to nip at the pad of your thumb, and you bite your lip. The expression he makes is somewhere between a smile and a sneer.
"Tease." He grabs your wrists and pulls them away, collecting them both in one hand to pin over your head. "Got a show and tried to leave without paying." His free hand goes to his cravat, loosening it until he can pull it off. He uses the silky material to bind your wrists together.
Hands freed, his attention turns to your waistband. He easily pops the button, and the thought finally occurs to your lust-addled brain that he might not find what he's expecting in there.
"Silco, I--"
He cuts you off with a glare, and a tightening of the hand around your wrists. "No. Try again."
You swallow thickly. "S-Sir."
"Good boy."
He has your pants open before you can continue, then he's untangling himself from your legs so he can finish stripping you. Once your pants are below your ass and he can see everything you've got, he pauses. One eyebrow goes up.
"Well," he says. "Isn't this a nice surprise."
You've never heard anyone refer to your cunt as a nice surprise before, but you're not one to turn down a compliment.
Kicking your pants the rest of the way off over your boots with no hands is a little awkward, but Silco doesn't seem to notice, one hand running through his hair to straighten it somewhat. The other is at his own waistband -- he opens the fly with a sigh of relief, pushing it down just far enough to release his cock. You feel yourself clench at the sight.
How does he fit all that in those tight-ass pants of his? He must be a grower and not a shower, you suppose.
Your fingers wiggle towards him, but with them bound together there’s not much you can do. Some part of your brain wants to drop to your knees, but Silco is faster than your brain and he hikes your legs up again, resting the back of one knee in the crook of his elbow while the other goes over his shoulder. One finger swipes through the folds of your cunt, which he brings up between your faces, rubbing it against his thumb thoughtfully.
“So wet, just from a little frotting?” His expression is a weird mix of pleased and condescending. “Or was it something else? The hands on your throat?” He drops his hand again, roughly shoving two fingers inside, drawing a choked moan from your chest. “Or from your little peep show, perhaps? And you were just going to slink off with this between your legs.” His fingers scissor inside you, stretching you just enough to sting a bit. “Soaking through your underwear, thinking about me. Maybe planning to go home and touch yourself to the memory?”
He curves his fingers roughly, and you gasp, back arching as you try to grind into it. “Answer me.”
“Y-Yes,” you pant, and he pulls his fingers from your body, leaving you feeling a bit empty. “Yes, I’ve been... It’s been the whole time. From watching--”
He’s using your slick to wet his cock, and you can feel him rub the blunt head of it against your folds. “And?”
“And I was going to jack off later,” you whine, “thinking about you fucking me.” You feel like you’re going to explode.
“Have you done that before?”
“Frequently.”
He pushes in all the way to the hilt with one rough thrust and a shout is pushed forcefully from your lungs, your toes curling. It hurts a little, but it hurts good, and you don’t ever want it to stop.
Hands move your legs to wrap around his hips, and you pull him close, grinding against the cock inside you. He rolls his hips a few times, a few strands falling loose from his perfectly coiffed hair. You blink your eyes open to look at him as he slows to a stop, his face thoughtful.
After a moment, he pats his breast pocket, then withdraws a cigar from it. His other hand reaches behind him to pull a lighter from his pocket. Holding the cigar between his front teeth, he flips the lighter open and lights it with a smooth, practiced motion. The lighter goes back in his pocket as his cheeks hollow around the cigar -- you ignore at how your clit pulses with arousal at the sight, trying not to wonder if he could feel you clench around him -- then he removes the cigar from his mouth and breathes out a small cloud of smoke, face morphing into a self-satisfied smile.
“Perfect.”
The cigar goes back between his teeth, then his hands move to grasp your legs by the crooks of your knees. He bends you almost in half, and without warning, starts fucking you in earnest, pistoning in and out without mercy.
You groan in pleasure, hooking your bound hands around his neck as he tears in and out of you. The only sounds in the office are the noises you can’t hold in, Silco’s quiet smoke-filled pants, and the wet slap of his hips against yours. His cock is hot inside you, and despite the stretch, there’s hardly any resistance with how sopping wet you are. You wonder if you’re staining his pants, since he never took them off. He never took anything off but his cravat, actually, while you’re being fucked against his window in just your boots.
Pulling closer to him, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder. He makes a noise at that, something a groan mixed with a growl, which is sexy, so you do it again, a little harder. His next thrust seems even rougher, if that’s even possible, and you slide up the window a bit, back drenched in sweat. Your clit rubs against his pelvic bone every time he thrusts, and between that, the burning stretch, and his cock hitting deeper in you than your toys ever reach, you can feel yourself hurtling towards orgasm.
“S-Silc--Boss,” you correct yourself halfway through. “I--ah!”
“Do it,” he growls, dropping one of your legs to put his hand on your fat clit. He tugs it roughly, handling it like any other cock, twirling it between his fingers between pulls. It sends the molten heat at your core into overdrive, throwing you into the strongest orgasm you can remember.
You clench hard around his cock and he moans, voice breaking halfway through. He gives three more hard thrusts and you feel him twitch inside you, releasing his cum as deep inside you as he can reach. You shudder through the end of your orgasm, mind fuzzing out and head thunking against the glass behind you.
He stays inside as his cock softens, panting and staring at you. You stare back, into the enchanting, mesmerizing, hypnotic gaze that will definitely play a leading role in your jack-off material from now on. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, then he bends down to give you a chaste kiss, and you hum lightly.
His hand is releasing the knot around your wrists, and he’s pulling out and lowering your feet to the floor. He tucks himself back into his pants as you find your balance. Your pussy clenches a bit as you feel some of his jizz leak out of you. The next time you look up, he’s got your underwear in hand -- he goes to one knee and picks up one of your feet to thread it into the leg-hole, then repeats this with the other. Then he pulls them up, hard, patting the damp spot where it rests against your cunt, his spend trapped inside.
Then he hands you your pants and shirt. Once you take them, he takes the cigar out of his mouth, stamping out the burning end in his ashtray. He spins his chair around to take a seat, and then turns it back to his desk, shuffling papers around like nothing happened.
“Take the rest of the day off,” he says as you re-dress yourself. Pants pulled on over boots, shirt mostly straight. There’s a sore spot on your neck -- well, you’re a little sore all over, but the spot on your neck feels like a bite mark, and it’s definitely too high to cover. You’re not sure if you’d want to, anyway.
Now that Silco is back to doing... whatever work he does all day, you figure that’s your sign to leave. As you walk towards the door, he speaks again. “Oh, one more thing.”
You half-turn to look at him. “Yes, sir?”
“I should have something for you first thing tomorrow morning, so just come straight here. No need to bother Sevika, yes?” He’s looking up at you with a smirk, a mischievous twinkle in his black-red eye. It’s a little infectious, and you find yourself smirking back at him.
Summary: On one hand, Silco imagines that he should be terrified of the power she holds over him - he is not one to give up control, nor power. But she has a certain way, of so effortlessly bringing out a side to him that he never even expected to exist, that he can't mind. Not what it devastates him so, and never makes him feel so alive.
A/N: Too many of you asked for a sequel to this, and I caved. Your welcome, you thirsty daisies.
NSFW|MDNI; Silco POV, rough-sex, p in v, fingering, marking, posessive/breeding kink, internal monologue, if you think Silco TALKS a lot, wait until you see his internal simping in 'action'...
Weakness, falliblity. And need.
How she pulls it out of him so easily, so simply with her actions or even just her presence, he doesn't know. On one hand, Silco imagines that he should be terrified of the power she holds over him - he is not one to give up control, nor power. Can't be, not in this life, not when he has so much to lose, and has already lost so, so much.
And in a way, he is fearful of her. For the moment she steps in, locks the office door, and leans back against it to simply gaze on him with hooded eyes...
Silco fears indeed, that he'll never get this report done.
"I want you." Not a surprise, there didn't seem to be a time where you didn't. He tells you as such, and the laugh hovers lazily in the air at his dry tone. A false-front, you both know it well, but you're still amused. Tilting your head to the side, slowly trailing your gaze over him.
"...I want you, Silco." And there it is, that first thrill up his spine, just from a handful of syllables. And a gaze that never stops piercing him in place, even as his wrist roves over the paper before him, pen in hand. Still smooth, still moving with the grace of a man concentrate and calm. Even though for you, he is anything but.
The ballpoint lifting and falling with every new stroke, is just-slightly offbeat to the sound of your steps.
"Want your arms around me, Sil." If the man takes his eyes off of you for a second, you are already in a position to end him. Now is no different, but you only wrap your arms around his shoulders, knuckles brushing along his sharp jaw as you half-sit on his unused armrest. "Do you now?"
Silco's tone is impassive. You know better, and the hand slinking down to rub a palm along his vested-chest is proof of it. And you grin lowly. "I want your mouth too, love." You use your own then, leaning down to press an impossible warmth to his hairline. A trail it becomes, and he's thankful you've started on the scarred side, so you don't see his other one close as he inhales deeply.
It's no use, you know his weakness, and are using it to your full advantage.
This is proven as your hands coaxs up to cart through hair, and your lips drag from his cheekbone to his ear. Teeth grazing on a lobe as you breathed, "I want you inside me, Silco."
Pen is slowly lowered onto the paper but Silco can hardly call that a show of control, or restraint. Not when you might as well have him by the throat, even though your hands are impossibly gentle. Nails tracing at his scalp, your palm over his shoulder to caress through far, far too many layers, as you rub over his heart... your actions are nothing short of that of a lover, but you bring him to his knees with them all the same.
Still, Silco tries not to collapse under your touch. He will, eventually, but he'd like to attempt to stay balanced even behind closed doors. He's unsure if you'd ever allow him to come back up, otherwise.
"That's quite a lot you are asking for," He murmurs lowly, a chuckle gliding straight into his ear at his next remark. "Perhaps you've gotten greedy."
"You call me, greedy?"
"Considering you have yet to tell me what you offer in return, yes."
Another laugh, and almost sweetly, "Oh, Silco..."
Demolition is in sight, but he still reaches up, gripping your wrist and halting your fingers in his hair. You chuckle still, even as he does not release your hand, and turns so your noses brush, eyes apart with such a slim space of air between them. Caught under eyes full of such bemusment, Silco needs to take a silent breath to steady himself.
Because you know exactly what kind of hold you have on him, even if the one he has on yours tightens slightly, at his question, "What do I get out of it?"
Showing no mercy, your smile widens.
"Me."
Silco has much reason to fear of you indeed. You can unravel him with a two-letter word, and he is no longer the Eye of Zaun, the King of the Undercity, Piltover's underworldly demon or even a refined, controlled man, as soon as the word slips from your mouth.
Silco is terrified with how quickly you can revert him into nothing but a frantic, primal creature, latching onto your lips with such ferocity that it makes the way he tears and rips at your clothes seem gentle.
There's very little gentleness after that, though not for lack of trying. You still glide and gently tug at his hair, even as he wrestles with buttons and zippers, growling at caught-sleeves like he holds a personal vendetta.
Silco does take an extra second to leave a tear more than necessary on the fabric, but give you little time to find humor in his actions. Half-storming into the room, you land on the bed half-clothed, barely given time to rise up before he holds one hand up, the other fighting with the too many buttons of his pants. "Before you got greedy, I remember a time where you would be on your knees. For old times sake?" A part of him feels pride that he's still about to cause a thrill to physically course though your body.
Another part of him comes crumbling down when he sees you slip out of the rest of your clothing, laid bare for him, on your knees as your eyes hungrily watch his progress. Indeed greedy, the Eye finds a distant part of him that still holds some semblance of control under your stare, and slows his hands. Slows down just enough, that he doesn't tear and make another too-quiet visit to a tailor - but still quick.
"Ah-ah, no, don't even think about it," He snarls lowly, tossing his apparel aside and propping himself onto the bed, crowding you as he grabs to still the hands that had started to caress your body. "You said you wanted me-"
"Always have, always will..." You'll be the second-death of him, with words like that.
Silco grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugs it back, burying his mouth into the crook of your neck. You cry out, as he's biting and growling deeper into your skin. His other arm curls around your back, and soon nails leaving pink lines in your flesh as he marks your throat and collar.
Words and sounds, all the things you use so flippantly to destroy him.
In the confines of his bedroom though, he's happy to collapse, tugging your hair back further to give particular, and loving notice to your jugular. Your biting grip on his shoulders leaves you secure, meaning his free hand can trail down between your thighs, and Silco has to swallow the moan back, before moving his mouth of your skin with a satisfying pop.
"Soaked." He observes hoarsely, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as you pant while his fingers slide though the wet folds of your pussy. "So wet for me? Wet, at the thought of me? Your need knows no boundaries, does it?" Apparently you seek his demise in true, for you groan out his name, your hips rocking when his fingers grind your clit with purpose, "All for you, Silco..."
He chokes out your words with the insertion of one finger, soon two, than a third after another moment of your sweet, devastating sounds. Your breathless cries raising and falling with his unpredictable pattern as you tighten around him. Slowing when he drags his fingers inside, curling against your walls, before becoming keen-pitchs after another round of precise thrusts into your dripping cunt-
It's too much. It terrifies the Eye of Zaun, how you overstimulate him with your mere presence. How he wants, needs more of you, from you...
But you give it all, even at the cost of Silco's irrational ire as you suddenly grab him. "Inside me, Silco..." You remind him hoarsely, flexing your fingers around his wrist when he growls with a flare of impatience. But your next words make any sense, or understanding of the mere word paitence, instantly flee him. "I need you to cum inside me."
Silco feels something crack, even the primal part of him, as he's smooth to pull his fingers out, and turns you around so you're on your hands and knees. Closing his eye, he guides his length, hard and dripping between your folds, and grips your hip with a bruising effort. "Who am I to deny you anything?" He covers the honest croak with a growl, hearing you gasp. Shoulders shake as you work to hold yourself up, the head of his cock rubing your clit with lewd, wet sounds to accompany your moans.
"Especially a request like that..." He nearly bows forward when he finally pushes into your entrance, but settles for releasing your hip - now sporting an imprint of his hand - and wrapping around you to place his hand securingly, just above your cunt. Silco hushs the whimper that falls from your lips as he pushes into your pussy, granting you mercy even though you've given him none.
Feeling your cunt tighten him as his thumb strokes circles around your clit makes his teeth grind, his head tilting back when he rocks his hips forward experimentally. "Oh darling, you'll make me come from that alone, is that what you want?"
He has to say it chidingly, as if teasing, or else you might actually very well make him spill into you just from these beginning tenses around him. "Falling a-apart so soon? You were so greedy moments prior, where's that spirit now?"
A vulgar curse slips past your lips as you press your forehead to the mattress beneath you, your knees and Silco's hand on your mound the only things keeping your lower body up. "You wanted so much, so take."
Now, he fucks you in earnest, but Silco knows he still isn't in control here. Not really, not with your panting cries and sudden, groans of his name spurring him on, making him to push deeper, fuck you harder, give you more, all of him...
He doesn't know how you've done it. How you have him so completely wrapped in your net, though he's sure everyone, perhaps even yourself, imagines it's the other way around. Silco may be the only one, deep down, who knows how utterly devastated he is by you, and he nearly doubles over on your sweated, clawed-mark back at the realization, and as you clench unapologetically-tight around him.
"F-fuck, gonna... s-Sil, inside me, please," You cry out, half-muffled by the sheets beneath you as hands fist into them. "I'm yours, baby, fucking-" "What, claim you? Release inside you, breed you?" You're so tight, but he finds a new source of invigorating lust to pound deep inside once more at the thought, thumb rubbing firmly between your folds to drive you to climax a second time.
Silco doesn't expect an answer.
But then again, when have you ever been anything he expected?
"Yes!" You all but wail, and the king of the Underground actually needs to halt, which makes you mewl even more pleadingly. "Make me yours, l-let everyone see..." Taking his pause for hesitance, you whimper as you make your case. "Fill me, as many times as you... I'll take e-every bit of you, every bit it takes..."
You're greedy indeed.
But with this man all but putty in your hands, there is nothing the King of Zaun won't wish to grant you. Especially not the prospect of you filled up, dripping with his release, and it taking inside of you...
Silco was now chest-to-back with you, and bit down harshly on your shoulder, almost drawing blood as he gripped your hips, thrusting sharply, and truly fucked you like he wanted to put a child in you on this very night.
His, the one thing that no one had, or would ever dare to do, but him. Silco can mark your skin, yes, leaving trails in the shape of his teeth and nails all over your body, but claiming you inside? Claiming you in a way no other could, claiming you in a way that all of Zaun could see, just by looking at you and, sweet Janna, by looking at whatever princes or princesses of his Nation he could make with you...
It was terrifying, he thought with a grin against your skin as he felt his climax wave over him at the same time as your cries reached their crescendo, in the lyrics of his name. You were terrifying, how so easily, so simply you activated the parts of him he didn't even know existed. Collapsing him into his most feral, needing state, in which little else mattered but you and what he could do to, for you...
It scared him to death, and he never felt more alive by it.
Silco released his grip on your skin, kissing almost feverantly at the dark purple bruising he left there. You let out a tiny whimper as his teeth scrapped over the mark they left behind not a minute earlier as your body ceased his shaking from the shared-climax.
Though it began again with a pleased, eager whine pulled from the depths of your throat at his next words, and at the underlining promise of them,
Sometimes he looks at her with his eyes deprived of recognition, with a shadow of a strange little scowl, ready to disfigure his face, hidden in the corner of his mouth. It makes him look almost feral, almost foreign, as if there was a side of him no one had ever get to know before. It's not a daily occasion mostly, but it always happens unforeseen during the most unpredictable occasions.
Once, she was tired in the evening, and all she needed was some piece of warmth he always provided to her unconditionally. So, she quietly approached him from behind, when he was sitting, looking through some documents. Y/N softly wrapped her arms around his neck and broad shoulders only to be pushed roughly on the ground as he swiftly shoved her off. There was that stare. For a brief moment he had been staring at her whining form on the floor with no intention to help her up, crap! it was as if he didn't recognize her even looking her right in the eyes!
It was a brief moment, though. Soon he rushed to examine her state, gently tugging her to his chest with a constant apology on his lips.
"Sorry, darling... are you sure it doesn't hurt? You really took me by surprise, huh?"
He never loses his face. Even in rare circumstances like this, trying to play it off. That gives Y/N a thought that he must be
understands the problem much more than he shows, but considers it his weakness, his disadvantage, from which he hides. And it makes the situation only darker and more uncomfortable for Y/N to even think about.
She remembers waking him up and being nearly choked once by his iron grip. But as soon as the haze of sleep was gone from his orbs he let her go, grumbling something about a bad dream.
She knows he has nightmares; terrible ones, considering that he wakes up covered in a cold sweat after them and gasping for dear life. He either opts to go and do something to distract himself after them, or immediately cages Y/N in his arms, visibly relaxing when the scent of her hair conditioner hits him and her smaller figure settles down comfortably in his arms.
She woke up to the bright light. She knew it was still early in the morning and she also knew that he hated bright lighting, so Y/N hopped out of bed to do something with the light source before he'd woken up. The girl squealed, feeling a sudden solid hold on her wrist. She turned to look at the man, haunted by the thought that she might be met by those indifferent, cold eyes once again.
But that's not what happened.
Instead, a soft, still sleepy smile was drawn on the man's face, eyes narrowed, voice raspy and nice as he asked: "where are you going so early?", then he took a note of a frightened anticipation written on her face and continued, confused and concerned, "are you okay? What happened?"
"No," she shook her head, "nothing. I was just going to dim the light a little bit..."
He groaned disapprovingly, tugging her back to lay on the mattress.
"It can wait, right, dear?" he mumbled, resting his head in the crook of her neck, ready to drawn back to sleep. He smiled contentedly as she giggled at the feeling of his breath upon her skin.
This was the moment Y/N knew indeed that it was him - the man she fell in love with, not a frightening stranger that takes a hold of his actions so rarely and so violently. She couldn't find it in her to bring up the topic when they were so comfortable like that. And should she, really? Everybody has a right to keep their secrets untouched.
silco having a nasty sex dream of reader and not being able to function when he wakes up and has to send her away because otherwise he is not sure if he won't legit just start to hump her leg like a dog
this grabbed me by the throat like it's name was Vander
NSFW - It's all a dream, P in V, clothed sex, sleepy sex, very very slight breeding kink
-
He isn't sure what woke him up. If it was the feel of you pressing back against him, or the soft way you were moaning his name. Either way, he was now awake and aware of how hard he was.
There is a groan of your name tumbling from his mouth, hands finding your hips, as you grind harder against him knowing he was awake. "Silco," you voice is breathless, as you turn and glance over your shoulder towards him. Your smile is coy, and a little too sharp. "Fuck me."
It's a dream, he knows it is from the smile alone, but it doesn't stop him from unbuttoning his pants and pulling up your nightgown. He would have to buy you more, some nice sheer ones. Ones where he could see you at anytime of the night, so he could wake you gently and take you hard.
Like now, as he simply pushed your soaked panties out of the way, and thrusted inside. Loving the way this dream version of you screamed, and he wanted to know what you'd do in reality. The thought has you producing a whimpering sound, and that's what gets him to start thrusting. You'd whimper at every first thrust, he decided. His teeth finding the space between your shoulder and neck and biting down.
Let him make a necklace of marks around you. To show everyone who you belonged to.
He wasn't going to last, and he reached around to touch your clit. Enjoying the way you moaned his name, and he felt you tighten around him.
Silco moaned your name against your throat, like a prayer as he came. And then he lays back, panting. There's still heat within him, he needs to wake up. Take care of it.
Before he does wake up, he makes sure to slip from you and watch as his cum began to leak out of you. A very primal part of him, feels his heart squeeze from the sight. The immediate want to do it again. To keep going until it takes. To claim you in a way no other man could, and let everyone see you were his.
Sleep is blinked from his eyes and Silco is aware how painfully hard he is. A groan rolled from his mouth, and he turned his head, his entire body stiffening as he spotted you still beside him. Your breathing is soft and even, and he knows you're still deeply asleep.
He can also see how your nightgown has lifted far too close to your hip, and the urge to touch you, to try and see if he can replicate his dream is far too close. Wordlessly and as quietly as he can, he slipped from the bed.
In the shower, he is free to touch himself. To close his fist around his cock and pretend it's something much softer and warmer.
-
You slipped away, red-faced and wet once you heard the shower running. Silco had believed you were asleep, which was good, considering you weren't sure if you'd be able to handle it if he had known you were awake.
You could still just feel the way his cock had been grinding against you, the soft little moans of your name falling from his mouth. There would be talks later, to deal with it later, but once you're back in your own bedroom you find how wet you are is far too distracting. Your fingers make quick work of slipping inside of yourself, as you think of what Silco would've done if it had been you grinding against him in your sleep.
You had a feeling you wouldn't have left the bed. Maybe for a few days.
He had murmured out next to your ear, how he wanted to keep going, until it took. You really hoped when he did finally take you, he'd keep good on his word.
i got a request mentioning a Firelight!Reader, but it got lost in my inbox so here's this.
Jinx ships it so she catches you and drops you in Silco's clutches.
also @sweatandwoe is goated up with the beta-reading sauce thanks boo
Part Two
AO3 Link
Silco/f!Reader
4009 Words - NSFW
Face Fucking, Blowjob, Reader is Tied Up, P in V, Mildly Rough Sex, Dirty Talk
---
It bothers you that she’s not struggling. In fact, she’s got her legs stretched out in front of her and she’s fidgeting her feet back and forth as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. You watch her carefully as the others sift through the cargo around the deck of the airship, one hip popped and your arms crossed.
Jinx knows you’re watching her, and you know that she knows you’re watching, and she’s watching you too. There’s a smile on her face that reaches her eyes a bit too much, and it’s unsettling.
“You’re not going to try and escape?”
“Nah, not unless you’re trying to kill me. But I know you, and that’s not your gig - you’re soft.”
“Just don’t want to kill a kid,” You spit the word out at her, and she catches it eagerly with a grin that shows too much teeth.
“Oh, you’re right, I remember now! We were finding pieces of Sawyer around the Lanes for-”
“Shut up, Jinx. Seriously, you’re not helping your case.”
At that, she shrugs her shoulders and leans back against the wall you have her propped against, the one that covers the stairs leading into the hull of the ship. Most of your men are down there now, sifting through and disarming the traps she’s laid out. Intel had said she would be guarding this one, and you brought the best of the best today.
“Well, if you’re not gonna kill me, then there’s two things that are gonna happen and honestly, I’m a-okay with both of them.”
“Enlighten me,” You tilt your head, feigning interest in her analysis of her current situation. Jinx is right - you don’t plan to kill her. You never plan to kill anyone, it just happens sometimes, but it’s not going to happen today. Silco would also find you and wring your neck himself, and you’re not interested in crossing paths with him any more than you have to.
That’s why your blood runs cold at her suggestions.
“You either let me go and scram and everything’s alright, or you end up taking me with you and Silco gets what he wants.”
“Yeah? And what’s that? My head?”
“Maybe some head,” Jinx’s voice is giddy with laughter as her cheeks pinch with how ecstatic she is to drop that bombshell, “He’s been real grumpy lately, and honestly I hope you pick the second option so he comes after you and lets off that stress. Then I can get away with more stuff and he won’t be so uppity about a few explosions here and there.”
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’d ever joke?”
Jinx doesn’t get an answer from you. Nothing comes to mind - no witty retort, no simple statement, not even a scoff. In fact, your breath hitches, and like a bloodhound she sniffs out your slip-up with a giggling “oooooh!”.
“You’re nasty! Seriously, you want my Dad? I was actually joking but jeeze, you’re somethin’ else!”
And that’s when the explosion happens beneath the deck, rocking the entire ship and upsetting your loose stance. You should have known, expected that something would happen. At least you have the presence of mind to dodge Jinx’s first swing, ducking with a squat before you return her attempt with an uppercut of your own.
Of course she’d been out of her binds the entire time.
Flames are already starting to lick through the wood of the ship as you duck and weave around Jinx’s hits. Technically you’re a master, able to predict and divert her moves, but Jinx is far faster and lighter than you. That’s why you don’t anticipate her quick spin that you see coming but are too slow to dodge.
There are two thick, iron bands at the ends of her hair - nuts for some piece of machinery, you realize - and they smack you in the temple so soundly with her swift turn that your eyes are rolling in your head before you even hit the deck. The sounds of shouting and laughter are the last things you comprehend before a fist comes down on the back of your head.
—
You don’t dream. It’s like falling asleep and coming back immediately, except when you wake up you’ve got a migraine and your body is sore. There’s something sticky against the side of your face and you hope it’s not something disgusting. It’d just be your luck if Jinx dragged you through the sewer a bit before bringing you here. As a joke! You can hear her saying that as if she’s crowing it into your ear,
Ekko was gonna be pissed that you got captured, but you’d find your way out soon enough. For now, you feigned being unconscious and took stock of where you are. It doesn’t take you long - there’s an extremely telling sign that comes in the form of low, pulsing music from somewhere above you.
You’re in the basement of a nightclub, and even slightly delirious you can put two-and-two together to get four.
“I know you’re awake. Drop the act.”
The bite of your teeth against your tongue is the only thing stopping you from making some dramatic sigh of annoyance, if only to mask your fear. It’s one thing after another today, but you should’ve known Jinx would drop you right off into Silco’s lap like this. Cracking your eyes open, you’re immediately greeted with the side of him standing over you, arms resting behind his back as he looks down his nose.
Like you’re dirt. You feel like it, if you’re being honest. What is caked on the side of your head?
“When Jinx tells me she’s got a gift, it’s usually something less troublesome. A bomb, stolen artwork, a new gadget that will undoubtedly cause me some minor annoyance until she turns it off,” Silco pauses, squinting his eye as he takes in your curled form on the floor, limbs weak as you dig your fingertips into the wood, “Imagine my displeasure when the gift she’s brought turns out to be the largest thorn in my side.”
“Wouldn’t that make your life easier-”
“I’m not an idiot,” Silco’s sudden movement startles you. He’s squatting now, startlingly close as he looms, “You’re an annoyance, one that I’d gladly be rid of if given the chance, but that chance is not now. Not yet, at least.”
“The great Eye of Zaun has me in his clutches and he’s too afraid to squeeze?” Your smart tongue has gotten you in trouble before, and you immediately understand that it’s going to do so again. Silco’s hand reaches out and grabs your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and pressing them against the ridges of your teeth as his palm clings tightly to your chin.
“You want me to squeeze, is that it? Jinx told me of your little slip-up. One of the Firelights, out to do good for the Undercity and take down the Eye of Zaun - but you want to fuck him first, don’t you?”
If you weren’t already on the floor, your knees would have given out at the low, rolling tone he spoke to you in. You’d swear it with how weak your limbs suddenly felt. Silco holds your head aloft with his hand on your face, and your heaviness is starting to dig his nails into your cheeks with how tightly he’s gripping.
“Don’t panic, little firelight, you’re leaving here tonight. I’ve only one use for you, and then you can buzz away to bother someone else.”
Your first instinct is to curse at him, tell him to take a long walk off the docks into the river, call him every foul name you can come up with… But you can’t. Your whole body seems uncooperative, your throat blocked by your sudden shock at how absolutely wild this night has turned in the span of only a few sentences.
“I’m taking what I want from you, and then you’re free to leave,” Silco leans closer, his breath breezing across your face at the sudden proximity, “But you’re mine until I’m satisfied.”
“My satisfaction doesn’t play a part?” You meet his gaze, mustering up every single bit of courage you have left in you. Silco’s natural eyebrow raises without a shift on the other side of his face - he’s intrigued, or skeptical. Either way, his grip lessens the slightest amount, enough that you’re no longer cutting your cheeks with your own teeth.
“Do you want to be satisfied, or do you want to hurry this along so I can toss you out on the street?” Silco’s hand shifts, rotating so he’s simply cradling the point of your chin with his palm instead of the aggressive grip he’d had before. It’s… soft. Tender, almost - you hate it. In that moment, with the shift in his expression and body language, Silco wasn’t the kingpin you’d been fighting for years - now he was a man that had been living in your thoughts for every one of those years.
It makes you nauseous. You want to vomit, screech, spit in his face and tell him to get it over with. To take what he wants from you so you can finally have a thought about him that’s so vile that he gets out of your thoughts for good. He doesn’t deserve the soft edges you continually have to sharpen around him.
“Your choice. Either way, it won’t be loving. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you, but you’re convenient.”
The lie leaves you before you can comprehend the ramifications of it, but it’s not as if the truth is any better. In fact, it’s so much worse that the lie feels like the safest option. The path of least resistance. It's as easy as breathing, when you feel your mouth form the words, “You’re convenient, too.”
It’s all the explanation he needs, the only answer required to let him know that you don’t want to leave here without getting your own rocks off. That’s why his fingers slide from your skin before he stands, keeping contact until the last second before you’re free from his oppressive presence for only a moment.
Silco isn’t gentle as he unties your ankles, though it wouldn’t make much of a difference with how tightly Jinx had bound you in the first place. You’ll have bruises by the morning, you know it. Expectantly, you turn your back for him to get the ropes at your wrists, but he laughs at you. It’s a low, rumbling thing that barely holds any humor as his palm lands on the top of your head.
“No, you’ll keep those on. Willing or not, you’re far too much of a liability to be given that much freedom,” Silco’s hand stays on your head even as he rounds in front of you. Somehow, he’d already unbuttoned his pants and they hung far too loose on his hips for your mind to fully comprehend his actions right away. His free hand tugs them down a bit more, just so the length of his cock can be pulled out - it’s level with your face but he drives the point home anyway, “You don’t need your hands for what we’ll be doing, anyhow. Just your tongue - and if you bite, you won’t have one anymore.”
Duly noted, though it’s not as if you planned to. No, you were going to take whatever he was offering tonight to tuck away in the back of your mind for nights when you’re blissfully alone and shamefully yearning. Silco doesn’t need to know that, and you’d never utter a word of it. In lieu of answering, you swallow the pooling saliva beneath your tongue before opening your mouth in a silent invitation.
“Good girl,” Silco’s voice is barely audible, almost a mumble as he takes hold of himself and guides the tip past your lips. Immediately it’s as if he’s engulfed you entirely - he’s on your tongue tasting clean and just barely salty, his scent surrounds you with tobacco and aftershave and something sweet that you can’t place. It should bother you that Silco is either obviously hygienic, or this had been his intention all along and had cleaned up for you.
Honestly, you expected him to smell like the blood on his hands and taste like something foul, and it’s a curse on your psyche that neither of those things are true.
Silco’s breath is already swift and shallow as he pauses, halfway in your mouth and already filling it with his cock. Through your lashes, you look up at him, and that breathing stops for a single moment as his eyes flicker across your face. He’s memorizing this, and you don’t know how to feel about that - so you decide that feeling nothing is a good choice. You don’t have to think on it long, he regains his thoughts quickly.
“Will you trust me just for this one instance, only for tonight?” Silco sounds unsure of his own words. He’s expecting you to say no, to spit his cock out and reel from such a suggestion. And you should, after everything this man has done, but there’s a strange weight to his words that tell you they’re genuine, only for now.
Silco won’t hurt you in a way you don’t want. For that reason, you cup your tongue beneath his cock and bob your head further on him. Just this once, you’ll put yourself in his hands, if only because you were already too addled to think better of it. The sensation of his fingertips digging into your scalp as he takes control of the rhythm once more brings goosebumps along your skin, and you abandon your work to instead allow him to move you as he pleased.
All you needed to focus on was breathing and enjoying the feel of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in precise motions that grew deeper and deeper until he’s getting far enough into your throat that your body tenses to gag with each one. But then he’s gone, pulling out before the gag happens and allowing you a half second to breathe before he’s back in once more.
“That’s it, look at you - swallowing my cock like a natural,” Silco’s voice has a tinge of amusement to it, even when it’s strained with his tightly-coiled pleasure, “I’d like you far better if this was your purpose, instead of continually being an annoyance.”
Asshole, you think as you glare up at him, and he has the audacity to show you a small, slanted smile, “But you’d be boring without your bite. No, if I wanted a voiceless waif I’d have picked one up a long time ago. This feels like a victory, a conquest. It’s far more satisfying knowing that it’s your pretty mouth I’m fucking.”
If you were less concerned with breathing and more worried about listening, you’d have been able to read between the lines and pick up what he’s hinting at. But your throat is your main concern as he repeatedly fills and leaves it, his rhythm slowing as his breath hitches - he’s getting himself close, but this obviously isn’t the end-all of what he’s looking for tonight.
It takes only two more nudges of his cock against the back of your throat before he’s pulling out of you swiftly and leaving your mouth oddly empty as it hangs open. The hand holding his cock finds your mouth, his tongue pushing past your open lips to press down on your tongue and keep your lips parted. The sound of your breath is louder without being able to close your mouth, and he seems to relish in it as he takes in the expression on your face for a few beats of the far off music.
“On your back.”
“My wrists-”
“Are not my problem. I’ve already told you why. And I refuse to take you from behind - I want to see your face when it’s me that makes you cum,” Silco’s hands push hard on your shoulders, forcing you into the position he wants and holding you there for a moment before he’s moving to the band of your pants to remove them. As he does, he holds your gaze with burning eyes full of purpose, “I want you to look at me, and every time you lay with another you’ll think of how much better it felt coming from me.”
If he even knew the depths that he’d burrowed in your mind… the truth those words held would send him running. Instead, you muster a glare that seems to please him as he yanks your pants off hard enough to take your boots with them and skid your hips across the floor with a scraping of your skin.
There’s not a single apology on his lips, though you hadn’t expected one, and he hikes one of your knees up on his shoulder without further fanfare. The angle of your hips changes, and the sudden weight on your hands trapped beneath your lower back is sharp when added to the existing rope burns.
This doesn’t stop him, and he barely deigns to give you a raised brow before his dick nestles between your folds and rocks against the entire length of you. That makes you groan with pleasure instead of pain, and it’s enough encouragement for Silco to do it again and again with long grinding motions.
“Make more sounds for me,” Silco urges you, watching you as you watch him, your eyes trained between your legs and watching as he works against you. One of his hands comes to press a thumb there, using it to provide more pressure for his cockhead against your clit. The sound it pulls from you is embarrassingly whiny, making your eyes roll beneath fluttering eyelids.
The hand holding your thigh to his chest tenses, fingernails digging into your skin harshly to catch your attention again, “Pay attention. I want you to remember every second of this.”
The pressure of his nails against your skin doesn’t leave, a warning to keep your eyes trained on the way he’s moving against your cunt for only a moment before - then he’s shifting and pulling back enough for the head of his cock to find your hole easily. It’s slick, a mixture of his precum and your own arousal easing the passage of his cock inside you.
It’s for the best, because Silco doesn’t pull any punches, doesn’t take it easy. One thrust is all he uses to bury himself to the hilt and press his mouth to the knee on his shoulder, muffling the sound of his groan as you tighten around him on reflex. That sound is never going to leave you, you’re going to make sure of it when this night is over - if only because you were the one he made it for.
Silco doesn’t wait, nor does he settle inside of you to give you a moment to adjust to the sharp stretching of your cunt around his cock. No, he sets a sharp pace immediately while using the leg over his shoulder as leverage. The rocking of your combined weights feels like hell against your hands that grind into the floor beneath you, but you don’t dare to say a word.
Not because he’ll deny you, but because it’ll make him stop for a brief moment and you’re blissfully close to orgasming already from penetration alone. If you could, you’d be rubbing yourself as he works and have already cum around him more than once, but Silco doesn’t seem willing to do that.
Instead he watches, looking down his face as you grunt through your teeth and stifle your moans. The vision of his cock disappearing inside of you is hypnotic, and you find you don’t even need the reminder of his digging fingers to keep your attention there. Every thrust is met with a squelching sound, evidence of your own oncoming orgasm despite the lack of stimulation otherwise.
You don’t need it, not when he hikes your hips higher and tilts you just right until he’s hitting him against that specific spot that drags a yelp of his name from your lips. The movement of his hips stutters for a moment before he’s doubling down and gripping you with bruising force - he liked that, you realize.
So you do it again, letting the two syllables roll from your lips with a moan as you lift your gaze from where he’s fucking into you, to his face. Immediately you’re struck with the ferocity of it. Silco is well-known as cool and composed, but in this moment he can only be described as wild. His hair is falling loose from his slicked-back style, there’s sweat at his temples, grunts ripping through the spaces of his teeth. Even his palms are sweating as he grips you, to the point where his hold is beginning to wane and Silco instead wraps both arms around your leg to brace against. And the entire time, those bicolored eyes are taking in everything about you.
The twist of your body, the rocking of your hips with his rhythm, the biting of your lip when the burn of the ropes on your wrists sting with your sweat. Later, when you’ve stumbled your way back to the hideout and cleaned yourself up in a way that didn’t leave you feeling used and tossed-aside, you’d think more of the hungry expression on his face. But for now, you can’t focus on it.
Now, you’re arching off the floor with a keen of his name, your muscles tensing at the breaking of your limit. Silco sees your orgasm, fucks you through it with a few well-aimed thrusts before he’s abandoning all care for your continued release to chase his own. It doesn’t last as long as it could have, but you’re feeling limp enough as he uses you for his own ends.
True to his word, he’d been watching you cum, but the tables have turned now. The only thing you can compare him to is a rabid animal, something vicious and wild as he finally cums inside you. Silco nearly growls your name out when he does so, hunching in on himself further with every thrust until he has to slap a hand on the floor to brace his suddenly unsteady weight.
Silco doesn’t lay on you. The only contact once he drops your leg is his dick softening inside you, and even then he’s already pulling away to right his clothing with poorly-concealed laboring breaths. When he’s satisfied his own clothes are presentable, Silco finally nudges you on your side with his boot before untying your wrists with deft fingers.
“You’re free to leave after I do,” Silco’s tone is oddly cool as he watches you dress with shaking hands. Your hands are red and angry-looking, bruises already forming from the harsh treatment on your knuckles and around your wrists. It makes the nimble movements of securing your clothes back on a chore - one that he doesn’t help you with.
Silco wants to say something. You can tell it by the way his breath repeatedly hitches, then leaves his lungs in one exhale before starting again. In the end, he says nothing while he walks to the door with long strides and leaves you alone in the barren room. You watch the door for far too long, listening to his footsteps as they fade into the distance - they pick up speed when he gets a bit further down the hallway.
You’d thought maybe this would be what you needed to work it from your system, but you can still smell him on your skin and you can still hear the sounds of your name leaving his lips as he’d fucked you. It brought another question to the forefront of your mind, one that struck you as vitally important now that you have enough faculties to comprehend it.
*drops in like the baller i am* can i get a uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh silco with s/o who nonstop horny, pretty please? literally he shows a little ankle and reader's ready to cancel plans and stay in the bedroom. 💖
Silco x Reader, canceling plans
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I absolutely love this request!! I was giggling like a wild motherfucker. Thank you so much for sending this in, absolutely love your baller moves!!😂❤️ You didn't specify if you wanted it completely NSFW or just implied so I'll go in between for this one!
I hope you enjoy this lmao, this is probably way too long... and you know what else is way too long-*GUNSHOT*
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Silco x GN!Reader
Warnings: 18+ still, mentions of the sassy times 😏 horny as shit reader (honestly same), slight mention of cigars and alcohol, Silco showing those goddamn ankles!!!!!!!!!
Going out for the night (or will you 😏)
Waiting for Silco to get ready was an absolute nightmare. The man took his time. Shower, shave, lotions, cologne, all the shit. And you were getting impatient. For two reasons. 1, you were gonna be late to your fancy smancy party. And B, the book you were currently reading was really turning you on right now. As you leaned against the door to your guy's room, absent mindlessly running your hands through your hair and reading the most sexy sex scene in your entire life, you wondered when that damn man would get out of the bathroom.
Was it a bad idea reading smut before going out to a party? Yes. Did you regret it? Not really. Were you bound to still get horny regardless, waiting for Silco? Absolutely.
Finally the door clicked and it swung opened. A waft of scents hitting you. Peach, and sandalwood and lilac, it was almost too much, and you smiled deviously as Silco walked out. He gave you a suspicious look with a raised brow but continued to the side of the bed where his shoes lay.
"Took you long enough." You said almost in a singsong voice as you snapped your book shut and made your way closer to him.
"You know my routine." Silco said half distracted as he set his foot on the bed to slip one of his socks on. Your eyes became wide as you spotted only an inch of his ankle, his sexy ankle, but it was more than enough. You smiled evilly again before walking closer to him.
"You know..." You began messing with Silco's shirt collar as you spoke. "We could... Maybe skip tonight, in favor of something more fun." You wiggled your eyebrows up and down at him. Silco let out a low chuckle.
"We're never gonna get invited to anything again if we keep skipping events like this." Silco said turning to grab his coat. As he reached for it, you spotted his wrist as his shirt pulled back, that attractive bony wrist. You were basically salivating at this point, and you also knew Silco was doing this on purpose as he half turned and smirked at you.
He gave out a half surprised half winning laugh as you pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. You wiggled your eyebrows up and down again before speaking. "You just have the sexiest ankles, you know."
Sevika’s Judgment
"You're too kind, my love." He said before you leaned down to press your lips against his.
Having just finished a breakfast of two cigarettes and some rum, you wondered your way up the stairs and came to Silco’s office. You heard voices on the other side, Sevika’s and Silco’s. They sounded upset, or at least rather serious. But man, you had to admit, Silco’s voice sounded really hot when he was upset.
You just got up, how are you already this horny?
You opened the door and slipped in. Sevika was standing in the center of the room, going on about some shipment thing that you weren't paying any attention to. Instead, you were more focused on the man at the desk. Smoke wafted around him as he stared angrily at Sevika, his chest heaved as he listened. God, his chest looked so sexy. How have you not noticed before? You just wanted to caress your hands over it now as you watched him. He glanced up at you, his eyes slightly softening as he spotted you.
Sevika turned too, noticing Silco's slight distraction. As soon as she made eye contact with you and your suspiciously standing self, hands behind your back, her eyes immediately narrowed. You sinful bitch- Is what you were assuming was going through her head as she looked at you. And yes it was true, but also look at him! Silco sighed as he focused again on his current problem with Sevika. Who knew moving papers along a desk could look so fucking hot, you noticed, as Silco splayed a few papers out in front of him. His hands...mhmmm...
You still really weren't hearing anything the two of them were saying, your eyes now only focused on Silco's lips. OH MY GOD his lips. As he spoke about who he was going to take out to teach a lesson, you followed the movements of his lips, the things his lips could do to you, you thought wickedly. You felt Sevika's eyes on you again, her judgment almost burning through you. You ignored her offended eyes, solely focused on Silco as he continued to speak. God, his lips...
Soon, and thankfully, the conversion seemed to be done, as Sevika turned to leave and Silco, taking a drag of his cigar -which would have basically had you on your knees at this point if Sevika wasn't there- returned to his stack of papers.
As Sevika passed you her eyes narrowed once again. "You need help." she whispered to you as she passed by. You only wiggled your eyebrows at her and she couldn't help but let out a small laugh as she shut the door behind her.
Silco looked up at you, returning his focus to you rather than his work. "Anything I can do for you, my love?" He questioned.
AN: And don't even get me started when Reader catches him standing in front of his desk, his skinny ass is about to get slapped and his waist will be grabbed (with consent of course).
this was inspired by @lemmielem's artwork of Silco and Jinx that you can see here! if you're not already following lemmie, you're a fool and a buffoon.
What happened after the camera panned away, after Jinx and Silco bonded over her abandonment?
Silco and Jinx
1,372 Words
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If there is one thing that Silco relishes, it's the sweet tang of success.
Tonight, he is tasting the fruits of his labor - years and years of it, finally having ripened in a blaze of smoke and flame. It's bitter, nothing like he expected when the evening began. It's as if the very ash in the air itself has coated his tongue, sitting heavily in his mouth as he gets to his feet and struggles to balance with the added weight of his impromptu spoils of war.
"Sir-?"
One syllable is all it takes to flip the switch in his brain. For a moment, the only two people left in the world were himself and this little girl clinging to him with fingers digging into the fabric across his back. But suddenly he’s back to reality, his skin burning from the heat of the flames and the frigid raindrops cutting through the warmth like tiny bullets.
Over the top of her head lies a mountain of a man. A monolith that Silco had been quietly preparing to climb for years now. And in the span of less than an hour, it’s been conquered and Silco is struggling with the vacuum inside his stomach that was once filled with the desire for vengeance - the need for him to struggle and suffer in the countless ways that Silco had.
Behind him is what’s left of his gang, nearly short one more judging by the way Sevika lays limp in her carrier’s arms. Silco is well aware of what she’s done, what she’s sacrificed in his name, and he’s already begun to do right by her before he realizes the orders coming from his mouth.
“Take her away, have the doctor spare no expense,” Then, his eyes turn to Ran, “Sweep the area with whoever is left. We’re meeting at the new headquarters in thirty.”
“...New headquarters, sir?”
Silco turns fully, his arms struggling to hold the girl as he weight becomes more dead - she’s fallen asleep - and his men look genuinely confused. Silco doesn’t blame them. It’s a split-second decision, one made more out of spite than anything else, but he supposes it’s the most fitting choice. It’s always nice to return home after a long day, and it’s been the longest of all.
“The Last Drop. We’ve suddenly come into ownership of it.”
With his orders dispersed, Silco chances a final glance over his shoulder at the dark silhouette prone on the ground. It’s supposed to have been cathartic, a kind of closure for that part of his life. The last remnant of who he’d been before, and now he should be free to pursue his aspirations as a new man.
If tonight was a success, why does it feel so empty?
The girl doesn’t stir - not while he walks, not when he kicks the door open to the bar, and only slightly cracks her eyes open when he settles her in one of the worn-down booths. It’s just the same as he remembers it, and if he squints hard enough he can almost see the two shadowed figures that had flanked the spot where she was now settled.
His spot.
As he loses himself in thoughts of what had once been, of a long-forgotten home and friends and family, his new problem becomes more alert and sits up with a balled fist to her eye to rub at it. No doubt it’s full of ash and salt from her tears - she’d been near-hyperventilating when he found her, curled in on herself and tugging the blue strands from her head with the grip she had on them.
Now, she was silent. Quiet, limp, watching him with wide blue eyes that held not an ounce of fear in them. She should fear him, after the acts committed tonight on his order - he’s the reason her family is gone, in a roundabout way, but at least she’s in her home once more. Perhaps that’s why she looks at Silco with nothing but quiet acceptance and… hope?
Silco’s forgotten what that looks like.
Something needs to be said. Comfort, maybe? It feels wrong to him, foreign even before he begins thinking of words to say. Instead he lets out a quiet sigh from his nose and settles to her left - Vander’s seat - and immediately she burrows into his side and throws her arm around his stomach.
“What’s your name, girl?”
Silco finally can bring himself to speak into the still air of the bar - the others haven’t arrived yet, and the only man he’d brought with him is taking stock of anyone who may be lurking in the halls. It’s just him and the girl now, and she stiffens when he asks that of her. The hesitation is telling, and he turns a bit so his torso is facing her, so she’s a bit more comfortable.
It’s strange, being this close to someone. Before tonight, Silco can’t remember the last time he’d let anyone come this close to him, but already he’s feeling his edges grow a bit softer at her clear vulnerability. When her shoulders quake in a silent cry, Silco sees himself in her place. Freshly betrayed and while she isn’t covered in blood and filled with rage like he’d been, the hurt is just the same.
“Do you have one?”
“Yes…”
Her voice is just as small as it had been before. Silco decides he doesn’t like that. The girl peeks up at him, the blues of her eyes barely visible, and Silco makes another split-second decision that he may come to regret with the storm that’s already beginning to brew. Right now, he feels like he’s in the eye of it.
All is quiet.
“If you don’t like it, perhaps we can find one that suits you better,” Silco tilts his head a bit, expectantly waiting for her to slowly nod, and then he continues, “Sometimes, in order to move forward, we have to leave everything else behind us. The extra weight will only drag you further down.”
“I should… forget? My sister a-and Vander, Mylo, Claggor-”
Silco pulls back from her, just enough to cross one leg over the other to keep his body turned and bring a hand up to the hair at the side of her head. It’s soft, interspersed by the pins she wore to keep it contained, and she instinctively leans into the comfort he’d unknowingly provided. It was meant to catch her attention, but he supposed she could see it however she needed.
“Never forget. Keep the memories within reach, but not close enough to keep you snared. Remember them, harbor them, because they will make you strong. That’s what you’ll be now - strong.”
“She said I was a jinx.”
“And?” Silco’s voice drawls that one syllable, and despite its smoothness it still seems to make her flinch. It gives him an idea that sticks immediately, and he voices it, “Then you are Jinx. If that is how she sees you, then that’s what you’ll become. Reclaim it, become what they want you to be, and then make it your own.”
The girl - Jinx, he corrects himself - bumps her forehead against his ribs, pushing against him tightly in what he realizes is a hug. With a slow move, his arm comes around her to return the gesture. It’s strange, but he finds it as easy to remember as it once had been far too long ago.
Tonight will be the easiest to come for months… years, even. There are changes to be made, preparations to pursue, renovations and restructuring of the hierarchy in the Undercity. Jinx, with all her idiosyncrasies and excitement and pure, unfiltered attachment, becomes the only stability he has. Silco wonders, almost a year later as he catches a flash of blue in the rafters of his office, if perhaps it’s unfair to put that sort of pressure on his daughter.
Then there’s the glint of teeth, grinning widely as she smoothly swings and hands from the wooden beam, and Silco finally understands that the success of that night hadn’t come from putting down Vander, from disposing of the false figurehead to allow him to become what the people need.
It was Jinx.
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