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pst *take of hoodie and sunglasses* I heard request were open for silco.....can I get some headcanons for silco smoking around the reader? maybe even blowing it into their face? ..... or mouth?

*Looks left and right before gesturing you inside.* “You’ve come to the right place.”

Silco X GenderNeutral!Reader short

TW for smoking, power dynamics, power imbalance, violence, and I guess technically non consensual touch.

Look, it honestly started out as just headcanons and then quickly evolved, wildly beyond my control. Just like Jurassic Park.

Silco’s Damn Smoking

The man was a menace.

The way he talked business casually while assaulting your senses with his intoxicating mannerisms. The way he slinks around the room with that lazy cocksure gait, like some graceful powerful beast. The way he moves his elegant hands in dramatic sweeps and gestures. The way he smokes, in particular, was so… increasingly, frustratingly, distracting to you.

How are you supposed to stay focused and discuss important business with all this going on.

You did your very best to hide how it affected you. For a man with such injuries to his face and eye you were never quite sure how much he could actually see. He seemed to never miss anything. You were worried he noticed the way your lips would part slightly as you watched him exhale the smoke from his cigar. Or the way you would breathe the smoke in deeply sometimes, savouring it.

So it’s a relief when Sevika bursts into the room, requesting a word, looking at you pointedly. You stand to leave so they can talk but he angrily waves for you to sit on the red velvet chaise lounge.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He calls over his shoulder excusing himself. Sevika closes the door behind them.

You do a very good job of waiting patiently for a time but curiosity eventually pulls you over to his desk.

You can’t resist tracing your fingertips over the cool brass of the ornate lamp, the leather bound covers of books, a complicated map of Piltover. The little timber box of cigars catches your attention. You look over your shoulder at the door and decide to risk it, lifting yourself up to sit on the desk so you can reach them.

Sliding the cover across you withdraw a single aromatic tube and bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale.

The gentle click of the door opening barely registers for a second as you enjoy the smell of the cigar held under your nose. Then the neurons fire and you open your eyes to see Silco striding cooly towards you. Shit shit shit. You start to apologise and get up but he shushes you and his hand presses gently against your knee in a demand to stay.

You feel so vulnerable, your mind races in panic. He’s smirking at you with the good side of his face, clearly amused as he plucks the cigar from your hand.

“Pass me that would you” he gestures to the small guillotine which you pass him and he promptly uses it to chop the end off with a metallic ’shing’. He places the cigar in his mouth and then looks pointedly at the lighter on his desk.

“Oh of course” you oblige him, sparking the flint wheel bringing the warm golden flame carefully to his face.

He holds your eyes with his as he takes a few chuffing draws. The sound of it sends waves of tingles down your neck. Why did this affect you so much, you don’t even notice your breathing hitch or the way your lips had slightly parted. But he certainly did.

He moves forward without warning, closing the gap between you. His thigh now pressed between your legs which hang over the edge of the desk in an intimate collision that leaves you reeling. You grip the edge of the desk beside your thighs to brace yourself. Gasping in surprise and before you can do anything else Silco grabs your face roughly in one hand, the long fingers and thumb holding you firmly in place. He’s squeezing a bit too hard but it’s… thrilling, dangerous. His free hand still lazily holding the cigar which he brings to his lips. Drawing the smoke into his mouth, swirling the flavour around as he looks deep into your eyes before blowing the thick, pungent smoke into your face. The cool air washes over you, obstructing your view for a second or two.

“No no no…” he tuts, squeezing your face even harder and bringing his lips to your ear. “You’re wasting it.” His breath is warm against your bare neck and his deep voice hums over your skin. ”Let’s try that again shall we?”

He draws back to take a another mouthful of smoke, the small embers crackling as he takes a deep drag. You see a small amount curl out of his nostrils before he brings his lips in, so close to yours. You part your lips slowly and he blows the smoke into your mouth. It feels cool and tastes… amazing. The complex flavour that you associate so deeply with him is quite different to the smell. Sweeter, richer than you had imagined. You wonder how much is the cigar and how much is him.

The veil of smoke falls away slowly and you look up at him, aching for more, much more of whatever this was.

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