im obsessed with the idea of silco secretly being submissive
Silco being 'secretly' submissive ~ headcanons
Notes: Secretly? I jest. Again, I had so many thoughts, I had to headcannon it!
Wordcount: 1k
Warnings/Rating: submissive Silco, dom!reader, smut, gn!reader, descriptions of oral, mentions of light bondage/gagging, overstimulation | 18+ MDNI
Masterlist | Ko-Fi
When Silco falls for someone and comes to trust them, he really falls for them.
Yes, he is the Eye of Zaun, one of the most feared men in the lanes, with hundreds of henchmen at his beck and call, but he would kneel down in the street for you should you ask it of him.
He worships the ground you walk on, and everyone knows it. You can do no wrong – it’s fact, and anyone who tries to accuse you of such is very quickly corrected. How depends on the severity of their accusation.
His lap becomes your favourite chair. His coats become your coats. He always hand a hand on you, no matter the situation. Anything that shows you off as his and his alone, be it when it’s just the two of you in his office, or at an assembly, it’s done. He’s your personal guard dog through and through.
To the outside world, you were his to take care of, his perfect little pet.
When you’re locked away in your bedroom, however, that steely exterior melts away, leaving utter devotion behind. He’s softer, more gentle, more submissive.
Tell him to jump, he'll ask how high. Ask him to burn down the lanes, he's already lighting the match. Ask him to cheer you up and he'll be between your thighs for as long as you'll let him.
He loves it when you take control, having someone boss him around for a while where he can switch off and focus on nothing but making you feel good, watching your body twist with pleasure, whether it's from his tongue or his dick.
His only has two rules. One - you never start anything around any of the barons (afterall, he has a reputation to uphold for the good of Zaun). Two - never grab his neck.
It's almost pathetic how turned on he gets when you tie his wrists down to the bed, gagging him as you use him, watching as his hair falls in loose strands around his face, bucking up against you desperately as he groans against the tie balled up between his teeth.
His hips bucked up against nothing as he chased your hand, a muffled whine escaping from around the now spit-sodden tie. His hair had long since fallen out of his neat quaff and was now sticking to his forehead as he strained slightly against the ties around his wrists.
"Nah ah baby," you tutted, trailing your nails down his inner thigh, "You have to sit still if you want me to help you."
When he goes down on you, you literally have to drag him away by his hair to stop him overstimulating you. He will literally keep going for as long as he can until your fingers are pushing against his forehead. Even then he whines, desperate to get back between your thighs like a puppy desperate for his food bowl.
He isn't afraid to make a mess when he goes down on you either, practically drooling as he brings you to the edge.
Loves it when you pull on his hair, especially if you drag your nails through the short section first.
"I'm bored--" you droned, draping yourself across his lap as he tried to work, earning a short tut in return.
"The more you distract me the longer this will take," he sighed, scooting his chair back towards the desk. You threw your arms around his neck with a huff,
"I'll make it worth your while.." you grinned, biting your lip when you felt him tense beneath you, yet his eyes remained trained on the paperwork in front of him.
With an impatient huff, you wove your fingers up into his hair, fingers tensing as you yanked his head back roughly, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you looked down your nose at him.
The mewl that left his lips was near pornographic, his eye fluttering shut as you maintained your tight grip. Your brow raised in realisation, tugging again at the locks just as roughly and smirking with satisfaction at the sudden hardness between his thighs as he grabbed at your hips.
"No no, sweetie. That paperwork is so important - you have to focus." You turned his head back to his desk by his hair, satisfied with his whine, and leaving your fingers pressed against his scalp, scratching gently. "Go on. be good."
He has a atrocious praise kink. He loves to hear you tell him how good he his making your feel and how well his is doing. Every word cooed in his ear makes his cock twitch.
"Fuck you're so good for me, do so well-" you were struggling to stay upright, balanced against the edge of his desk as he devoured you, your words only spurring him on as he knelt before you.
Pulling at his hair you yanked him away from you. The sight of him so fucked out, chin glistening with his own drool as he whimpered at the loss of contact, was nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. "So beautiful, huh?" you brushed his hair from his forehead and let go of his head, letting him go right back to pulling you to the edge.
"Go fucking good for me."
Loves to watch you ride him. He gets to watch your fucked out expressions as you use him, his hands roaming your hips when you allow it as he squirms beneath you, bucking up desperately.
Is a darling when he is being edged. Practically begs for it. It is his favourite form of stress relief, ironically.
He can last for a surprisingly long time, holding out even when he is bucking into the air, desperate for your hands on him again. It's a byproduct of his (usually) meticulous self-control.
It doesn't stop him getting all needy, however, tugging at whatever restraints you might have on him as he begs you for more, please...
"Pl-please," he gasped, knuckles turning white as he clutched at the arms of his chair, "nngh-"
His words were slowly turning into sounds, his mind melting as you pulled off his weeping cock for the fifth time, your fingers gently twitching around his spit-soaked balls.
"Please, what?" you taunted, dragging your tongue up the underside of his member.
"I need to cum, please."
"Is it getting too much, baby?" Your words might have been sweet, but your voice was taunting at best, each word laced with condescension.
He could only nod in response, jaw clenching, "nugh, yes!"
"Worried your precious henchmen might hear what I do to you?" you teased, sucking just the tip between your lips and pulling away as he ucked up into your mouth. "Too bad. You're too pretty to stop."
Subby Silco after sex is a beautiful sight. His pale skin glistened with sweat as he pants for breath, his hair all dishevelled and sticking to his forehead.
He doesn't get tired afterwards, surprisingly. He usually gets up after a few minutes, shrugging on a shirt and going to pour over some paperwork for an hour or two before returning to bed and pulling you into him. It's almost like he needs to decompress and come down from it all, to regain his senses, before he can be vulnerable again.
The floorboards creaked as he paced back into the bedroom, clearly trying to tiptoe incase you had fallen asleep in the hour he had been back in the office. You rolled over sleepily as you heard him, smiling softly as he shrugged off his shirt again, gently folding it and his trousers back up and laying them over the back of the chair.
"Come here," he cooed softly as he climbed onto the mattress beside you, ushering you to lay on his chest as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Thank you."
He pressed his lips to your hairline as he mumbled, smiling softly when you chuckled.
"Whatever you need, my love."
All in all, subby Silco is a sight to behold, and its all for your eyes only.
Notes: This was such a sweet request to get back into the swing of writing after a few days break 🥹 I love soft Sil sm
Warnings/Rating: fluff fluff fluff, reader has hair long enough to braid and easy enough to brush | E for Everyone
Wordcount: 1.8k
Synopsis/request: Do you think you could do a young!silco x reader where silco is learning to braid with reader's hair please?
Masterlist | Ko-Fi
You cringed as the springs of your worn down mattress groaned under your weight, creaking as you flopped down onto the edge of it unceremoniously. Shoulders sagging, you pulled the tie from your hair, blowing out a long breath as the tension slowly started to ease from your scalp.
Every single muscle in your body seemed to scream at you, an ache settling in so deep that even your rough attempts to massage out the knots only seemed to make it worse.
Dragging your nails over your scalp, you winced as they caught in the knotted strands, tangling around your knuckles painfully.
“You look awful.”
Your fingers paused their attempts at untangling the strands as you glazed up, frowning a little at your boyfriend as he hovered in the doorway, eyes flicking across the state of your hair and what you were sure were deep bags under your eyes.
You huffed again, forcing yourself back up on sore legs and crossing to the mirror, cringing a little at the sight that met you. “You do know how to flatter me, Sil.”
He pressed your bedroom door closed behind him, his arms soon wrapping around your waist as his head settled on your shoulder, his sharp chin digging into the tender muscle.
“What happened?”
You continued your fight with your hair, tensing a little as you managed to pull one of the knots out. “Work happened,” you sighed, dropping the hair to rub at your eyes instead.
Silco watched you softly, lifting his head from your shoulder as you stood with your forehead pressed against your palms. Pressing his lips into a firm line he ran his hands soothingly up and down your waist, the movement instinctive, his fingers working their way under the fabric of your top to brush against the skin. The slight scratch of his calluses doing more to relax your body than anything else so far.
“Let me help?” lifting his hands from your sides, his fingers brushed over your hair gently, gathering it all to pull it back gently, being careful not to tug on it too roughly as you nodded, finally pulling your hands from your face.
Without another word, he guided you backwards a few steps, his hands warm and firm as they pushed gently against your shoulders, encouraging you back down onto the edge of your bed.
He fished around in his nightstand drawer for a moment, taking out his stacks of notebooks until he found his hairbrush, pulling a few of his loose hairs from it before turning again and settling on the mattress behind you, once again guiding your hair back over your shoulders.
He started brushing methodically through your hair, starting at the bottom and slowly working his way up, his hand pressing the strands gently against you to avoid tugging at your head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Picking at some piling on your duvet you wet your lips, eyes falling closed against the therapeutic rhythm of his hands, “Some of the guys decided it would be funny to send me through all the tight corners again.” You attempted a shrug, but thought better of it when it sent another ache through your bones.
Silco’s hands stilled, and you could almost feel his piercing stare on the back of your head again.
“The same ones as last time?”
You muttered a hesitant yes under your breath and his work continued, brushing out the knots with ease, a quiet, ominous hum setting your hairs on end.
“What are you thinking?” You attempted to turn around, only for a firm hand on your shoulder to stop you.
“Nothing.”
You knew that tone all too well – “Silco…”
He sighed, the sound forced through his nose, “Me and Vander will have a word.”
You tensed, turning as he shuffled on the mattress, leaning over to put the brush back away beneath his journals. “You don’t need–”
He quickly shut you up with a sharp look, one brow raised, “I said we will have a word, that is all. I am not having them mess you around whenever we aren’t on shift with you.”
The feeling of his fingers raking back through your now untangled strands quietened any argument rising in your throat, especially when his clipped nails scratched over the skin of your scalp coaxingly.
"Thank you," you murmured, your eyes drifting shut once more.
He pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "It's my job," he said, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took in your peaceful expression.
"Could you plait it for me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Leaning back against him, you nestled into the curve of his neck, breathing him in, letting yourself sink deeper into him.
He chuckled again, “I don’t know how.”
Your eyes opened, brows raising, meeting his as he gazed down at you.
“Seriously?” he nodded, “you have never braided your hair?”
“Why would I do that?”
You pressed yourself to sit up straighter again, shuffling to face him and reaching for his hair, pulling it over his shoulder. “Because it would look cute!”
He scoffed, leaning back just enough for his hair to slip from your grasp. “Cute?”
He let you pull him from the bed slowly, his hands squeezing yours softly as you led him back to the mirror, centering him in the dusty glass. He fought the urge to sigh when your fingers brushed through his hair again, combing lovingly over the scalp as you parted it and brushed it forward a little.
“You wanna split it into three–”
"There." You twisted the tie into the second braid, securing it in place. "Think you got it?"
You glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror—the dozy smile on his lips gave you your answer before he even spoke.
"When did you stop listening?" you asked, already stifling a laugh.
His smile deepened, eyes softening as they met yours through the glass. "Somewhere between you brushing my hair and the sound of your voice."
You rolled your eyes, giving his shoulder a gentle shove as you moved to step past him, only for his arms to loop around your waist, pulling you back against him.
"I can't help that you relax me so much," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the curve of your neck. His fingers spread over your stomach as he swayed you slightly.
"You're a sap," you chuckled, shivering as his lips grazed your skin. "Do you at least like them?"
He glanced at himself in the mirror, studying the braids sitting just above his shoulders. "I think they’d look better on you."
You huffed lightly, "Well, that was the point." Twisting, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and slipped from his grasp, crawling onto the bed. Stretching out with a sigh, you let the last of the tension drain from your body.
"Now," you mumbled, "will you please come cuddle me so I can fall asleep?”
“Come here, I want to try something.”
You looked up from where you were plaiting your hair for work, brows furrowing, “I have to get ready to go, Sil, I don’t have ti–”
“Just, come here,” he urged, gesturing to the spot on the ground in front of him, “And bring those hair ties.”
With a huff you stood, letting the loose braid drop, “This better be good.”
“Always the optimist in the morning,” he drawled, carding his fingers through the strands and loosening the plait. “Now just close your eyes and trust me.”
“I really do have to get to work,” you pressed.
“We both do,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost amused. “This won’t take long.”
You felt him gather sections of your hair, his movements careful, deliberate. There was a pause, then a quiet huff.
“This is harder than it looks,” he admitted.
A smile tugged at your lips. “Oh? So you’re saying I have skills?”
He let out a low chuckle. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
You resisted the urge to peek, instead letting yourself enjoy the sensation of his fingers weaving through your hair, the rhythmic pull and twist of each strand.
After a moment, he exhaled, satisfied. “There. Now, open.”
Blinking, you turned toward the mirror, taking in his attempt – a slightly uneven but surprisingly decent braid. You tilted your head, inspecting it with a hum.
“Not bad,” you mused, grinning at him through the reflection.
He smirked, “Told you to trust me.”
Shaking your head, you reached for one of the hair ties to secure his work. “I thought you weren’t paying attention?”
He shrugged, busying himself plucking your jackets from the closet, “I am not that bad,” he grumbled. “Besides, I practised.”
You almost missed his quiet admission. Your fingers stilled over the braid as your eyes widened. "You practiced?"
Leaning down, he pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple before handing you your jacket. "Vander can sit surprisingly still when you really need him to."
And with that, he disappeared through the bedroom door, the stairs creaking beneath his hurried steps as he rushed down to grab your work bags.
You stood there, utterly dumbfounded, hands frozen mid-motion as you stared after him, slack-jawed. You shook your head in disbelief, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the braid you had been fixing. The thought of him persuading Vander to sit still long enough for him to fumble through the motions was almost too much. You could picture it now – Vander grumbling under his breath, Silco muttering curses as his fingers worked, the two of them likely bickering the entire time.
Grabbing your jacket, you hurried down the stairs, your heart still hammering in your chest. As you reached the bottom step, you caught sight of him slinging your bags over his shoulder, pretending like he hadn’t just completely upended your morning with that little confession.
“You practiced?” you repeated, louder this time, a teasing lilt to your voice.
Silco barely glanced at you as he headed for the door, but you didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears turned red. “If you keep gawking, you’ll be late,” he deflected.
You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, stepping up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re unbelievable.”
He huffed, though you could feel the way he leaned into your embrace just slightly. “And yet, you love me for it.”
You grinned against his back. “Yeah. I really do.”
