A/N: He was so damn hot, such a shame we only had him for one season and like 5 minutes in the second season.
Silco's office was a place where many dreaded to go, the fear of the man himself, the power he had in Zaun, the people he surrounded himself with were all more than enough to strike fear into anyone. That's why when he said not to be disturbed no one ever dreamed of barging to his office.
Meaning that you had no fear of being interrupted and absolutely no problem as settled into his lap and let him pound his cock into you.
"No shame in your body is there, darling? Not in moments like these anyway. Lift that dress, I want a nice view." Your smirk matched his as you lifted your dress a bit over your bare tits and let him watch his cock, wet and hard, go in and out of your tight hole.
Silco leaned back and exhaled, a thick cloud of sweet smelling smoke vanishing in the air.
"I know you preferer these." He explained before putting the cigar back to his lips.
"How generous of you, sir. Going out of your way to accommodate me. Admit it, you have a bit of a soft spot for me." You teased and leaned in close to him, your hips bucking against his and putting a bit more pressure on his full balls.
Silco scoffed and slowly blew the smoke in your face, the sweet scent making you dizzy and causing your body, and pussy, to tense up.
"Sorry to disappoint but you're no different than any other whore I pay to take my cock. A bit more agreeable maybe, you don't ask questions, you get things done." When he saw how you smirked and began kissing his neck he groaned, a little annoyed that you saw a crack in his armor. "Enough. I have a meeting soon." Silco inhaled once more before he threw the cigar away and grabbed you by the back of your neck and crashed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss.
You didn't know if it was the pleasure of his cock fucking you with brute force, or the warm smoke that filled your lungs, but you felt yourself go almost limp on top of him. "It's safe today." You whimpered against his lips.
Silco hummed, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips before he pushed you all the way down on his pulsing dick and held you close as your pussy took every drop of his cum. Jet after jet of thick seed filled you and dripped to the floor beneath you.
"Hmh. If we had more time I'd order you to lick that up. Right now I need you to... hey, are you awake?" Silco shook you a little but you were passed out, the combination of whatever he smoked and the orgasm knocking you out on top of him. "Oh great." You didn't know he cleaned you up, dressed you back up, and carried you to a small spare room with a couch. "It's a good think I like you."
Combatting the "illiterate/dumb/insert classist assumption here" headcanons being circulated about Zaunites (particularly Vi) with my own headcanons.
Headcanon that Zaunites are actually super into literature and poetry. Like, culturally. Headcanon that music and poems were there for them when they had nothing else. The bridge song is the only song we hear being canonically sung by a character in the show and it's literally baby Powder (and Vi hums at the end of s2). The only other songs being played in-world are all by Zaunites. Art is a form of expression that they took refuge in as a community.
Headcanon that they generally love storytelling. Regardless of if they do or don't have access to books that are in good and preservable conditions, storytelling (via reading or memorization/orally) is a super important part of their culture. No one population has a 100% literacy rate even IRL, and not being able to read doesn't make anyone stupid anyway. But Zaun has a decently high literacy rate, especially considering their circumstances. They prioritize it because of how fundamentally important art/storytelling is to their culture.
Headcanon that Ekko and his Firelights tell stories to the kids at the base every night before bed. That a lot of these tales are from people he loved, like Benzo or his birth parents, or even Vi, Jinx, Mylo, and Claggor.
Headcanon that Vi in particular loves reading. She's a total bookworm. The few moments where she gets to do things for herself, she chooses to read and collect poetry and literary works. She's only ever kept one classic for herself (sold the others), but the things she keeps, she treasures. Young Vi likes to spin tales for baby Powder. Some are based off of stories she's read/was told by the adults in her life. Others are entirely made up on the spot, for Powder's own enjoyment.
Headcanon that Vi would've maybe wanted to be an author if she wasn't more preoccupied with protecting her family. That she considered pursuing those interests a pipe dream, something for a different version of herself.
Headcanon that Sevika remembers more about her dad's stories than about her dad himself. Headcanon that Renni the chembaron read books with her son whenever they both had a day off from work.
Headcanon that a lot of Zaunites know how to sing. Headcanon that Vi can sing. And that she used to sing lullabies for Powder until Mylo called her a baby for still needing them. And even after Vi punched him for it, Powder insisted she was too big for lullabies- so she and Vi settled on bedtime stories.
Headcanon that Jinx still remembers those stories. That she tells them over and over to herself whenever she can't sleep.
Headcanon that Silco told her stories when she became comfortable enough to tell him about her insomnia as a kid.
Headcanon that he would tell her anything from true stories of his past to things he's read or heard to things improvised on the spot. And they were different from Vi's stories because these usually had some moral/message to them, even the ones that he made up- but she loved them just as much as the aimless, endless tales of wonder and adventure Vi would spin for her.
Headcanon that now, she replays both Vi's and Silco's stories in her head at night. That when Isha came into her care, she shared some of those stories with her, too.
whatever you do, don't think about how young silco was likely scaling buildings & jumping through the streets of zaun to run from enforcers or for fun, but he couldn't after the attack cause losing his eyesight fucked up all depth perception & he couldn't safely judge the distances anymore
notes: the same prompt has also been written before by my beloved @moonlight-in-the-sea here!! observe it or perish.
VIKTOR, all scepticism and sharp edges, raised eyebrows and discontent twitches of his lip when it comes to interacting with most people, has long learned to be open and honest with you. It's been a bit of a work in progress, the two of you growing closer over time, a natural development, but it's certainly paid out — his open expression and warm smile whenever he's with you makes your chest feel tight with affection, as does the fact that he has let his guards down completely, discussing just about every topic with you, ranging from the kinks of new inventions he still had to figure out, to gossip about the councillors. His humour blooms around you and Jayce, becoming one of his most noticeable traits.
It's no secret that he's working more often than not, that he's eating and sleeping in the lab whenever you don't put a stop to it, but, as you grow closer, he makes sure to split his attention between his two greatest passions; you, and his work. It shows in multiple ways, either through him inviting you to come along and watch, proudly introducing the new hextech inventions to you, eyes shining brighter than blue stones, or him actually taking half a day off to spend with you instead, taking you out to explore Piltover's little shops or simply staying at home with you, all domestic bliss.
It's strikingly obvious to both you, and to everyone around you, that JAYCE is especially fond of you, given how much he's touching you. They're all innocent gestures, like his huge hand resting on your upper arm, or on the small of your back when the two of you walk next to each other, or the warm hug he pulls you into when seeing you for the first time that day, strong arms inescapable, but it happens too often to be a coincidence. Whether he himself knows he's doing it is debatable — your best guess is that it comes so naturally to him that he barely even notices.
He's surprisingly attentive when it comes to your wellbeing — it shows in him always having a blanket on hand, or him giving you his jacket, when you're cold, in him asking if you've eaten already and keeping foods you like around.
His family's work is forging, and even though he's not quite as used to working on something this delicate, he does extraordinarily well when it comes to making you jewellery, working every night until there's no flaws to be detected. He also asks Mel or Viktor — Mel, preferably; subtlety is more her strength — to figure out what kind of gemstones you prefer to use those in the design.
SILCO is a man who values privacy — and yet, he has no issue with you constantly hanging around his office. Really, he's weak enough for you that he might attempt to scold you when you sit on his desk, pushing important documents to the side, or even on his lap while he's working, claiming your rightful place, arms looped around his neck, but his words never come off as truly strict, tone exasperated, but he'd never do anything against it. At this point, his office is as much your space as it is his, given how your belongings lie around everywhere — your lipgloss on his desk, your spare jacket on his wall, your favourite snacks secretly stocked in his drawers.
He's strikingly loyal, never even looking twice at someone else, given how he can only see himself being with you. Silco's always thinking of you, which shows not only in the way he brings you small gifts and trinkets — not unlike a crow — whenever he has to traverse the Undercity, but also through him wanting to keep your relationship a secret. It's most likely a sensitive topic, because he doesn't want you to think he's ashamed of you, never, but he's an influential man, and he just cannot stand the idea of someone harming you because of your connection to him. He's terrified of losing you.
VANDER is caring by nature, it shows in the way he protects his children and friends, his loved ones, his people. Still, with you, it's all the more obvious. Whenever you make your way to the bar, spending nights and early mornings at The Last Drop, he has your favourite drink already poured for you, including any modifications and snacks you like. In his mind, there's a whole section of facts about you, including your favourite positions to sleep in, your most beloved outfits, and the food you always ask for at the street vendor the two of you usually visit, and he couldn't stop himself from constantly gaining more information about what you like and dislike if he tried.
He's fond of physical affection, both strong arms wrapped around your waist when the two of you are sleeping, or the large of his hand splayed out on your lower back when he's guiding you through the crowds gathering in the bar. Not only does he simply enjoy touching you, the person he loves so very close to him, but he also wants to know you're safe at all times — if any stranger approaches you, setting you on edge, he's right there by your side. At night, he might cling to you a bit more tightly than usual when he's had bad thoughts of losing you the day long.
SEVIKA is entirely smitten by you. It's obvious enough that some of her colleagues comment on it, laughing and jeering at the heart-eyes she gives you whenever you walk by, gaze lingering for way too long, roaming over the curves of your hip and the way your hair moves in the wind. She's not bothered by anyone poking fun at her; yeah, she's heads over heels for you. So what?
She also really enjoys listening to you talk. After a hard day of work, there's nothing more relaxing to her than simply focusing on you, on your voice, on the peculiar way you pronounce certain words, and when she rests her head in your lap, your fingers gently threading through her hair, she just wants you to ramble about whatever comes to your mind.
Compared to Vander, her protection of you is mostly verbal — though that does not mean she wouldn't punch a guy until he's coughing blood if he looked at you the wrong way. Still, she's influential, imposing enough with just a raised eyebrow and a warning word for almost anyone to turn, tail between their legs, when they're staring at you for even a moment too long.
Could I please make request for Silco and his wife-reader (I love your fics about Silco!)
Hi! Thank you so much for your support!! It really means a lot 🥹 And thank you for your request! This might be a little short but I hope you’ll enjoy!
No One Touches My Wife
Silco x wife! Reader
Summary: A chembaron thinks it’s harmless to brush against Silco’s wife during a meeting. Silco disagrees. Because in Zaun, some lines should never be crossed.
The air in Silco’s office always carried the same scent after long meetings, smoke, old wood, and the faint chemical bitterness that seemed permanently embedded in the bones of Zaun. Tonight it lingered even heavier than usual, settling thickly into the dimly lit room as the last hour of negotiations dragged on.
You sat beside Silco at the far end of the table, listening to the low murmur of voices circling the room like cautious predators. The chembarons had gathered to discuss territory lines, shipments, and the delicate balance of power that kept the Undercity functioning without collapsing into open war. It was the kind of conversation that sounded civil on the surface but carried the weight of a dozen unspoken threats beneath every word.
Silco said very little. He rarely needed to.
While the others spoke, arguing over percentages and routes and leverage, Silco remained seated in his chair at the head of the table, posture relaxed, one hand resting loosely against the armrest while the other tapped a slow, thoughtful rhythm against the polished wood.
To anyone who didn’t know him well, he might have looked bored. You knew better.
That quiet stillness meant he was thinking, measuring every word in the room against three or four possible outcomes. Silco listened the way other men hunted.
Across the table, the chembarons shifted uneasily under that silence.
Most of them had learned long ago that speaking too boldly in Silco’s presence was a mistake.
Most of them. The man seated halfway down the table seemed determined to test that lesson.
“You’re tightening your grip too much,” he muttered at last, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated stretch. His tone carried the faint irritation of someone who had already decided he was the smartest person in the room. “Control over shimmer distribution, transport routes, now pricing… you expect the rest of us to simply fall in line.”
Silco didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he finished the note he had been writing, placed the pen down beside the paper with quiet precision, and only then lifted his gaze.
“Fall in line,” he repeated softly.
The words held a faint, almost amused echo. The man spread his hands.
“We’re supposed to be partners, Silco. Zaun isn’t yours alone.”
A few of the other chembarons glanced nervously between them. Silco tilted his head slightly, studying the man as if examining a flaw in an otherwise interesting design.
“Partners,” he said after a moment. “An appealing word.”
His voice remained calm, measured.
“And yet,” he continued, “I find that men who invoke the idea of partnership are often the same men who contribute the least to it.”
A quiet ripple of tension passed through the room.
The man scoffed, though the sound came out a little sharper than he likely intended.
“You speak as though you built this city alone.”
Silco leaned back in his chair.
“No,” he said quietly. “But I am the one ensuring it survives.”
The conversation continued after that, though the balance of the room had shifted. Words were chosen more carefully. Voices lowered slightly. Even the most outspoken chembarons seemed less eager to challenge Silco directly.
You watched the exchange quietly, your hands folded in your lap as the discussion slowly wound toward its inevitable conclusion.
Meetings like this were rarely about agreement.
They were about reminding everyone who truly held the power to enforce the outcome.
Eventually chairs began to scrape softly across the floor as the chembarons rose one by one, gathering coats and exchanging stiff acknowledgments before making their way toward the door.
Most left quickly. One did not.
The man who had challenged Silco lingered near the center of the room, adjusting the cuffs of his coat with casual arrogance. His gaze drifted briefly toward you, then away again.
At first you assumed nothing of it.
But as the others filtered out of the room, his attention returned.
Longer this time.
Silco was standing beside the desk now, organizing the documents scattered across its surface, the quiet rustle of paper filling the room.
You rose as well, preparing to leave the office with him now that the meeting had ended. That was when the man stepped forward. Not toward Silco. Toward you.
It happened quickly enough that the movement barely registered before he had closed the distance, placing himself directly in your path.
“You should talk to your husband,” he said casually, his voice low enough that the words felt almost conspiratorial. You frowned slightly.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate your advice,” you replied politely, attempting to step around him.
But the man didn’t move. Instead his hand lifted. And brushed lightly along your arm. The contact lasted no more than a second. But it was deliberate.
Silco’s voice cut through the room before you could even react.
“Remove your hand.”
The command was quiet. So quiet it took the man a moment to realize he had heard it correctly. He glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile.
“It was only a gesture—”
“I was not suggesting.”
The calmness in Silco’s tone carried a weight that made the room feel suddenly smaller.
Slowly, the man lowered his hand. Silco rose from behind the desk.
The chair scraped softly against the floor as he stepped forward, the lamplight catching the sharp lines of his expression as he crossed the room.
“You have mistaken my patience,” Silco said evenly, “for tolerance.”
The man gave a dismissive shrug.
“No one here fears you.”
Silco stopped a few steps away from him. His expression remained unchanged.
“I do not require fear,” he said softly.
“I require respect.”
For a moment the silence stretched so tight it seemed the entire room had stopped breathing.
Then the man scoffed and turned toward the door.
“Enjoy your evening, Silco.”
The door shut behind him with a heavy thud. The office fell silent.
For several seconds Silco remained where he stood, his gaze fixed on the closed door. Then he turned toward you.
“Did he hurt you?”
The question came out so suddenly you blinked.
“No,” you said quickly. “It was just my arm—”
“Did he touch you.”
The way he said the word made it sound like something vile.
“He brushed my sleeve,” you admitted.
Silco inhaled slowly. For a moment he said nothing. Then he reached for his coat.
“You’re leaving?” you asked quietly.
“For a moment.”
“Silco—”
He paused beside the door and looked back at you.
The sharp edge in his expression softened slightly when his eyes met yours.
“No one touches my wife,” he said quietly.
The certainty in his voice left no room for argument.
Then he stepped out into the hallway. The door closed behind him.
You remained in the office, the distant sounds of the building below drifting faintly through the floorboards. Voices murmured somewhere downstairs. Glass clinked. Footsteps crossed the wooden walkway outside.
Minutes passed. Then the door opened again. Silco stepped back inside.
His coat was still perfectly in place. His posture unchanged.
Only the faint smear of blood across one knuckle hinted that anything had happened at all.
He closed the door quietly. Then crossed the room toward you.
His hand lifted slowly, brushing lightly along your sleeve where the man had touched you earlier.
The gesture was careful. Almost reverent.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
You nodded.
“Yes.”
Something in his shoulders finally relaxed.
Silco exhaled quietly before drawing you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you gently against him.
For the rest of Zaun, Silco was ruthless. But here, in the quiet of the room with your head resting against his shoulder, the tension slowly drained from his posture.
And somewhere out in the streets below, one man had just learned a lesson. No one touches what belongs to Silco. Not without consequences.
Request: you asked for silco requests?👀 how about some young!silco dating headcanons?🥰-- anon
Warnings: gn!reader, got a little suggestive in the first point?, drinking and smoking mention, average Silco and Undercity stuff
A.N: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!!! Love this man omg, I hope you enjoy these!!
•
Out of his friends, Silco is the most introverted. He would rather spend the night with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a book in the other. He was never opposed to going out, as long as is friends were there by his side, but they weren't always his first choice. Despite this, however, Silco was also a firecracker. He was quick on his feet and always had a witty remark locked and loaded. Silco could pull you in with a smirk and a biting quip that always had you wanting more. Dating Silco was kind of like that; there were moments where the two of you were in his room at the Last Drop, swaying to soft music and sharing a smoke, and there were times where you would be galivanting throughout Zaun, hiding in dark corners from Enforcers (and likely pushed up against the rough brick wall, Silco's lips pressed against your own as his hands roam over your body)
Silco is not one for PDA. He will rest his hand on your thigh when sat next to you and will place it on the small of you back when standing, but that is really it. When just with Felicia, Connell, and Vander, he will show his affection just a little bit more. He will occasionally rest his head on your shoulder, maybe hold your hand and physically pull you closer to his own body. When he's drunk, however, that's a different story. Silco is all over you when he's intoxicated. He stumbles into your open arms, places kisses on your neck, even pinches your butt, and he doesn't care who's watching (Usually everyone is too drunk to care or respect the two of you enough to not say anything. Felicia and Vander LOVE it).
Silco prefers pet names like "my dear" or "my darling." He knows they drive you wild, but he also likes reminding you and everyone else that you're his. This isn't in a abusive or possessive way, he's yours as well, he just loves the reminder that the two of you are fully committed to one another. He finds it extremely endearing and it shows a softer side that he usually doesn't put on display for people. Silco always manages to make you melt with his voice; it's just so addicting and you could listen to him talk for hours
He loves it when run your fingers through his hair, whether purposefully or absentmindedly. He'll let you braid it (as long as you take it out when you're done) and brush it and stick wildflowers in it. It's an action that seems to ease the tension from his shoulders and relieves the worry from his mind. If it's late in the night, there is a strong possibility that he'll fall asleep within five minutes. You're really the only person that can calm him like that (Vander, Felicia, and Connell come close, but you are truly something special to him)
Speaking of falling asleep, Silco does like to be close to you in bed. He likes switching up who's holding onto who, after a hard day at work there are times where he prefers you to hold onto him. He loves falling asleep in each other's arms, but he especially loves waking up facing you, where he can see your eyes open first thing in the morning. Silco loves that you're the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. He starts his day pressing a kiss to your lips and to him, it's heaven
Young Silco will do little things for you, like getting you a leather jacket to match his, always saves the seat next to him so you can sit there, pours you a drink at the bar before you even show up. He is a very busy man with work in the mines and the organization of the Children of Zaun, but he will always try to make time for you. Sometimes he will leave you little notes if he knows he'll be home late (and he always signs them off as "Your Silco")
Quiet nights are just as lovely with young Silco. He spends time studying maps or reading or scribbling down ideas. You will always catch him glancing at you, usually with a soft smile on his face. He is able to let his guard down and just be in front of you, which is not common in Zaun
Young Silco loves showing you how much you mean to him, and he will always be willing to remind you. You are his best friend and his partner
Silco probably thinks it's hot when you do research on political candidates and get involved in politics in general. He will not be seeing anyone as respectable if they ask if an election is a big deal this time. All elections are a big deal!!! He hears anything about someone saying they're not into politics and immediately knows they can not be trusted.
So if he hears you talking about a new policy? He's tuned in. Hell, if you know nothing about politics but are willing to learn and look genuinely interested and concerned? He has to know your name.
Probably one of the best ways to get him to spend time with you too. You'll get him talking up a storm with a few questions and if you can debate him expect a couple of drinks to be brought in. He wants to know what you think just as much as he wants to tell you about it.
Man a great date night for him might as well be to check out the local city council meeting and hear what people are saying. He takes you guys out to a nice dinner after to discuss what they said and any counters or agreements are welcome.
