#arcane silco x you
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Art Appreciation
Arcane Silco x fem!Reader
Synopsis: this is a continuation of this post from @astudyincontrasts
Warnings: Explicit, nsfw, mishandling of paint, MDNI
Word Count: 1,863
A/N: I highly recommend checking out "Blasphemia" by Eliran Kantor (their Instagram). Don’t forget to reblog!
Today you wore a skirt and simple blouse under a heavy coat to mask your Piltover status as you rode the shaky elevator into the bowels of the Undercity.
Your nostrils flared to calm the racing wallop against your ribcage when you thought of your client’s recent letter for your presence.
It wasn’t intended to be this way at all, not that you were complaining. You indifferently suggested to attend a viewing of an old painting that had built a reputation for its audacious nudity, or so you had heard, but never in your wildest thoughts did you believe The Eye to be interesting in acrylic erotica after he had made it very clear that he preferred more physical interactions instead.
Remembrance of the desecrated bathroom counter made your legs wane and tongue lap forward along the dryness of your lip before the ding from the elevator signaled the doors to slide open into a neon lit world.
.
.
.
Walking up the lavish staircase to the pillared museum entrance felt like a marathon runner beating inside your chest, not from the exercise, but from the way Silco, again, never let his hand falter away from the small of your back, as if to lead you like he did the other time you both were here.
When inside however, his demeanor changed to a more collective stance, hands swinging behind his coattail in his regular poised manner – leaving you to mentally pout at the absence of his palm along your lower spine.
Everything he did had purpose, and today he wasn’t going to give you an inch until he decided when. Suddenly, your coat felt too tight so you removed it for some oxygen and gave it to the coat attendant at the entranceway.
As you approached closer to the area that housed the painting of interest, both sets of footsteps stopped when you saw a sign that stated:
Viewing closed for the evening. Gallery under maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience.
You tsked and rolled your eyes as you looked around annoyed before your neck turned back to Silco standing a little too close to the tape blocking off the section under care.
“Well?” Silco inquired with a straight look, an eyebrow raised, and the edge of his mouth pointing up just a bit at his subtle request to misbehave.
A single index finger lifted the tape, giving you the quick decision – looking around briefly – to bend over and sneak under it, your client also slipping past the cautionary tape behind you.
Passing by rows of artwork littering the vast hallways, you finally found the room with the erotic painting.
On entering the spacious gallery, there were multiple buckets of paint and tarps that lined the floor. Carefully maneuvering past the mess and the ladders where the walls would be made anew with a fresh coat of paint, some of the walls already finished, you and Silco approached the canvas of both your curiosity.
It was a small painting, maybe no larger than a twelve-by-twelve canvas, but the subject matter helped gravitate the eye and amplify the piece across the room.
Your eyes widened; heart galloped.
The woman was leaned over a table, her head craning backwards over the edge, hair drooping and tangled, while her jaw was slack and eyebrows stitched together. Her expression was a mix of pain and pleasure and one could only imagine the noises she cried from that open mouth. The source of her pleasure had your blood flushing to your groin, making your throat bob from how the painting left you desiring the same pain this woman was experiencing.
A man’s torso could be seen, but his head was cut off at the edge of the canvas. His waist spread the woman’s thighs apart. Despite the fact that his groin could not be seen, any viewer concluded what he was ploughing into this woman, beckoning such an expression from her.
An ache pulsated between your legs when your mind drifted into a filthy flashback of you hunched over and stuffed full over a bathroom sink.
The aftermath dripped onto your skirt while eating your meal across from the man who left you to soak in the mess he made of you, leaving a trail on your belongings you had to scrub out the next morning before it stained.
Your world tilted from the flush in your cheeks.
Walking to calm your beating pulse, you tried to brush the skin of your thighs together to ease the pool of moisture that had gathered along your slit.
Then a wave of shock hooked you by surprise when a hard tug of your elbow pulled you face-to-face with the man responsible for your mess below.
“Having to walk away?” Silco’s cool voice breathed against your cheek then next to the rim of your ear, sending another buzz through your nerves.
Your throat hitched from the deathly close proximity, flaring the heat already overtaking your limbs just as your knees didn’t feel like working.
Then it finally clicked together why Silco drew away this evening. He was collecting data, observant as ever, desiring to witness your undiluted reaction for his own curious amusement. Now he had what he needed.
“It’s what makes this painting so infamous. For some viewers to have an… adverse reaction to such a lude sight of a woman being fucked senseless,” he puffed directly along your neck, “Oh, I did my research, lovely. Now I know why you wanted to inspect this one out,” and smiled when you desperately clung to his shoulders for support from the unbearable spike of arousal being driven deeper into your body.
“Do you want me to take you again,” he teased his breath on the length of your throat this time.
“Do you want me to have you crying like that whore in the canvas?”
A bated whimper ghosted Silco’s hair, hands shaking from the tight grip on his coat, as you bore the fatigue of your edgy limbs anticipating his next indulgence on your body.
His eyes locked with yours when he moved a hair’s length away from the apple of your cheek before tilting his chin, lips brushing, your breath hitched, and palmed the nape of your neck.
Your whole body buckled when his mouth crashed into yours, foot taking a step back, all the while your skin hummed with electricity about to combust into a thousand nuclear explosions.
The pace of the kiss was rough and breathless. Tongues swirled exchanging saliva, his lapping the inside of your cheek and swallowing your moans with every consumption of your mouth.
A hand glided to the side of your hip and had you pacing backwards until you collided with the museum wall. You were too occupied to notice the sticky substance pinning your shirt to its barrier as white paint coated your backside.
Releasing your mouth with a pop and navigating himself, nose dragging along your skin, to claim a piece of your neck, you braced the wall with a hand, the other clutching raven locks, when long fingers split through your nether lips and harshly indented your pulsating nub making you churn and pant from the fireworks cramping your inner thighs.
Fingers scratched the wall having you gasp audibly when you could feel liquid sticking to the tips and your palm. Peeling your hand away and examining the white now pressed into the print of your palm, you tapped Silco’ head and called his name to get his attention.
He peered up, hair disheveled, face looking so sexy from his lust-filled haze, as you showed him the mess on your hand.
“The wall its—”
“If that is of more concern then we can leave now to wash up,” he chided flatly then leaned into the lobe of your ear and growled, “or I can fuck you against this wall and make a mess so the workers tomorrow know a slut ruined their hard work.”
Coat was shed and thudded on the ground while legs spread apart with the hoist of your body onto a lean waist. Your skirt was lifted by large fingers above your belly as you undid the buttons to Silco’s silk shirt. It parted open for you to explore the expanse of his bare chest, eyes wandering to the now split trousers below revealing trimmed bush encircling a hard cock resting on the visible skin of your stomach.
Your hole clenched in excitement when you realized you could relive the fullness you felt the day of the bathroom incident.
Silco took his cock in hand, pulling hips away from yours momentary, and gradually, your mind going faint, fed the length inside until it disappeared completely into your cunt.
The white mess on your palm splatter across the clothed space between Silco’s shoulder blades when he thrusted hard once which knocked the hasty breath from your lungs. Then he began a merciless pace up into you that had you crying desperately at the ceiling.
The paint on the wall smeared your clothes clinging to the wet barrier as your body was being shoved up and down wickedly fast, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ panting down the curve of your shoulder which made you spin even more, hole clinging tight to the penetration below.
Then, to stay true to the canvass, Silco shoved you onto the tarped ground now scrunching under your weight, crashing a bucket forward and causing a splash of white to leak across the unprotected marble floor.
His haunches were used to lift your rear off the tarp and get a better handle on your hips, fingers indenting the soft flesh as he railed your cunt, having your breasts bounce inside your bra from the brute force of being hammered just like the woman mutely echoing your cries on the wall.
You tipped your head back, hands loosely on the ground, as echoes of your keening flooded the gallery in time with every thrust against your bottom, legs swaying.
Every grunt-filled plow of his cock had you wailing. Silco got his wish to see you disheveled underneath him and you got your wish to be spread like a whore, walls painted filthily with the thick brush of the cruel artist that wielded it inside you.
You pinched yourself around Silco harder as the fire snapped in your lower half.
Silco’s curled forward and stood on his knees, pinching your body, penetration sputtered as he vocally released himself in thick ropes. Vision blurred, your mouth dropping open in a wide oval with one last tapered moan, as your cunt was filled up.
Relaxing back down onto his calves, the man above you stretched his neck up to the ceiling and huffed down his fill of well needed air.
His shirt was drenched at the armpits and collar while his rolling stomach glistened with a sheen of sweat, a few drops crawling down the space of his chest. Then he peered down and took in the blissfully disgraced sight laid below, cock still shoved inside pussy.
“Was that what you imagined in the painting?” he exhaled.
You were too spent, so a brief nod would have to do.
#silco#silco x reader#silco x you#silco x y/n#silco x fem#silco x female reader#arcane silco x reader#arcane silco x you#arcane silco x y/n#arcane silco x fem reader#arcane silco x female reader#arcane silco#silco arcane#arcane fanfics#arcane fanfiction#silco fanfiction#silco fanfic#my writing
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So~, about Silco x Reader x Sevika relationship and some of the events that didn't appear in the show... Reader getting to know Powder/Jinx while Sevika is recovering and trying to "deal" with the ideia that Silco is now taking care of the girl that evaporated her arm.
In an universe where you're their partner, I don't really see you getting along with Jinx in the beginning as well, is probably something that happened naturally and with A LOT of time and little interactions between both of you.
And there's also the fact that you know that Sevika has some venom to spit on the blue haired little girl, so at the same time that you are "Well, she's just a kid" you don't want to hurt Sevika since she is already feeling betrayed by Silco 🤔
#arcane x reader#arcane x you#arcane sevika x reader#arcane silco x reader#arcane silco x you#silco x reader#sevika x reader#silco x reader x sevika#sevika x reader x silco#sevika x silco#silco x sevika#jinx and silco#arcane jinx#jinx x you
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"you take me so well" || arcane x reader
With Silco, Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, & Jinx
I don't accept NSFW requests!
tags: fem!reader, female anatomy, smut, established relationships, reader is implied late 20s (Vik), late 20s-early 30s firelight reader (Silco), toy use, vik's reader also uses a cane!!, pet names
a/n: lmao me writing these like I don't have my bestie and I in mind for our faves <3
Silco
Smoke from his snuffed out cigar lingers in the air, mixed so sweetly with his fine cologne and aftershave. It's one of the few things you can focus on as Silco drills his drooling cock deep into your pussy. You grip the edge of his desk, your board tossed in the corner of his office, legs hooked loosely around his waist gasping with every drag of his pelvic bone against your achy clit. His grunts are wild, unhinged. His blunt nails leave crescent-shaped marks on your skin as he yanks you deeper onto his cock, his balls making a wet pap pap pap with every delicious thrust. "Such a good girl for me, darling. What would your poor leader think of you sleeping with the enemy? Being fucked so tenderly on the Eye of Zaun's cock? Oh my love--! My cock was truly made for you, hmm? Utterly divine." His lips smash to yours, fingers intertwined together.
Viktor
Ever the gentleman, at first, Viktor slowly lowers you down onto his thick cock. His large hands shift from your thighs to grip your hips, pressing you down gently til he bottoms out. "There, love, see? You always take me much better when you're amply prepped for my dick. You're such a sweetheart for me, I must reward your patience." His smirk curls, lips finding your neck. Viktor's hand gently strokes your leg, easing what pain and discomfort he could. He wouldn't move until you told him to. He knows how much you enjoy cock warming him. <3
Jayce
A soft whimper bubbles in the back of his throat, his cock head breaching your lubed, velvet walls with a gentle push. So warm and inviting, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around is just what he needs after a long, stressful day in the lab. His girth is impossibly thick, it's taken a lot of practice and prep for your tiny cunt to be able to take him. Jayce is always gentle with you, big thumb circling your clit in hopes to chase away any discomfort. "Shh, shh, I know it's big, baby, you're taking me so damn well. Want to stop? No? Okay, okay. Let me get some more lube, yeah? Oh, fuck, pretty girl. I felt you clench. God, I ache for you, baby."
Vi
"Fuck baby," she hisses, sinking you down further on her pink strap. Her hips stutter, raw muscle flexing beneath the strap's harness pressing into the meat of her thighs. She rears herself back, until the pink head of the dildo is almost entirely exposed before pushing back in with her hips flushed to yours. "You're so stretched out on my cock, lovely. So fuckin' perfect." Vi purrs, swallowing your moan with her lips.
Caitlyn
Tender kisses are peppered all over your face, her long hair falling in front of her face. She's smiling down at you, looking like an angel sprawled against her pillow. Your pretty lips drawn open into a wanton gasp, hips jumping up as her deep blue strap sinks into you fully. The strap buzzes to life, Caitlyn giggles at your little yelp. It melts into desperate pants and eager rolls of your hips. She's more than happy to oblige as she pins your knees to your chest and fucks you into her mattress. "That's it, love. You look so pretty taking my cock like a good girl. Oh, does that feel good, baby? I'm glad. You look so lovely, all fucked out and flushed. Such a pretty little thing."
Jinx
Her face hides at the back of your neck, hips pounding against your ass. Her lithe fingers curl around the messy sheets, her other hand curled at your hip. Glancing down at where you two meet, Jinx all but snarls out a moan, picking up the pace. The way the electric blue strap buries itself deep within your pussy is such an addicting site. One that makes her froth at the mouth, nails biting into your skin. "You should see how fuckin' well you take me, princess. Fits like a fuckin' dream, your cunt is practically drooling f'me!"
|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||
#arcane imagines#arcane x reader#arcane x you#arcane smut#silco x reader#viktor x reader#jayce x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn x reader#jinx x reader#cherubfae 2024
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hi hi hiii !!
idk if you're still doing requests for Arcane, but if you are, I'd love to see Ekko, Victor, Jinx (and any other characters of your choice) with an s/o that's really good with with kids? maybe they could be a teacher/ mentor or babysitter but just very much loving caregiver vibes for any and all kids they come across
Caitlyn
She loves seeing you with kids, in your element.
She thinks it’s cute to see the way kids hang onto your every word and the way you teach them without them even noticing.
She will pop in on you with kids carrying toys and games.
She does enjoy kids company as well and they do like her but maybe mostly because she’s an enforcer and she brings them toys.
Sometimes she’ll find herself watching you with a kid (especially if that kid looks like either one of you) and daydreaming about somewhere in the distant future where you two would have one of you own.
Ekko
He’s not the best with kids himself. He’s not bad by any means but he can find himself often freezing up and unsure what to do.
This caused him to find it fascinating how good you are with them when he finds himself floundering.
When the Firelights have to go on missions often times the ones who have kids will leave them with you.
Upon arriving back, he will spend a minute just watching you doting on the kids.
He is just so enraptured in everything you do and that includes your ability to form relationships with kids.
Jinx
There aren’t many kids in the areas Jinx grew up. Not too many parents are gonna bring their kids into what is now essentially a club.
The first time she saw you with a kid was one of the times you went outside together. She had stepped away from the kid crying on the street, her hand instinctively on her gun, and she got itchy when she saw you approach.
She didn’t say anything she just watched as you crouched down to the kid’s level and started calming them down.
Slowly but surely her hand on her gun went slack and she just watched you enthralled.
When you offered to walk the kid back home and they agreed and you started leading them to her, she just looked at them wide eyed as she cocked her head, her braids pooling on the ground as a result, and waved her hand.
The kid hid behind your leg but you reached out and grabbed her hand and slowly the kid got more comfortable around Jinx on the way to their house.
Later that night Jinx was tracing the seam lines on your shirt and asked you what you thought about kids.
Silco
He would find it amusing how good you are with kids that aren’t his.
It’s almost like he indulges in watching you with them but in an almost smug way as he is with everything.
Seeing you be good with Jinx though changes everything. It completely knocks him off his guard.
Watching you play with her and make her smile makes him soft.
If you’re there when Jinx is having a mental health moment, she’ll cling to you and beg you to make it stop while you do your best to calm her down.
The emotions he feels is a combination of sadness, sympathy, and oddly pride in those moments.
For other kids, he couldn’t care less about how you interact with them but when it’s his, it means the world to him.
Viktor
He’s not good with kids himself. Those pivotal years of learning to make connections were stolen from him because of his inability to do things so many others could and kids having a habit of being cruel, especially in the lanes.
Seeing you with kids is something like a case study to him.
He finds it fascinating and seems to almost take notes on what you’re doing.
He would never engage for the longest time with any kids that were under your watch unless they directly asked him questions.
Then one day, he just did and they adored him, not as much as they adored you but it was a close thing.
They would like him for the fact that he refuses to talk to them like they’re idiots and indulged them in their endless curiosity.
You find a notebook later on filled with things that you did around the kids (even something as small as your tone of voice) that made you realize he was mimicking what you did in his own way.
#jinx arcane x reader#jinx arcane x you#jinx x you#jinx x reader#viktor arcane x reader#viktor x reader#viktor x you#Viktor arcane x you#caitlyn kiramman x you#caitlyn x you#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman x reader#ekko x you#ekko arcane x reader#Ekko arcane x you#ekko x reader#Silco arcane x you#silco x you#silco x reader#silco arcane x reader
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Maybe Silco with a motherly Fem!Reader who adores Jinx? Something with breeding & pregnancy? Domestic bliss please?
Soft
Oooh, I do love some good domestic bliss... and I've always loved the idea of Silco's lover being a motherly figure for Jinx. Tbh, it would've solved so many problems in the show....
Rating: Explicit. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI
Pairing: Silco x Afab!reader.
Word count: 1.1k
Warnings: Breeding kink, sliiiiight degradation, Silco fantasizes about pregnant reader, cockwarming, y'all already know what's up
Join my taglist here!
(By clicking read more, you agree that you are 18+. Minors DNI)
You were by far the softest thing in Silco’s life. The Eye of Zaun -the most feared kingpin in all of the Undercity- was not a man who usually enjoyed life's softer, sweeter things, but you were the one exception.
He could still vividly remember the day you showed up at his door, demanding to see Powder. Silco had wanted nothing more than to laugh. It was ridiculous, the way you showed up alone and completely unarmed to The Last Drop and demanded things from him of all people. Under any normal circumstance, you would’ve never gotten past his bouncers at the door, but he could barely get Jinx to eat or respond to him. Her door was locked, and the lock was reinforced from the inside…. he was worried about his new daughter, and you seemed to know her. So, against his better judgment, Silco took one look at the motherly concern you seemed to show for Jinx and brought you to her door.
He watched carefully as you knelt in front of the door and took a deep, calming breath. “Darling, I know it’s been so hard, and you’ve been so brave… could you please come out and eat something? For me?”
The door flew open in a blinding flash of unkempt, neon blue hair, and Jinx was in your arms. The small girl was sobbing and clutching you so tightly, almost like she was afraid you’d disappear at any second. She was trying to say something, but her sobs distorted her words to the point they were unrecognizable.
You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, picking her up as she buried her face into the crook of your neck. Silco watched in shock as you stood and turned to face him calmly. “What are your thoughts on soup?.”
In the span of five minutes, you had nearly kicked his door in to see Jinx, gotten her to come out of her room for the first time in a few days, and now you were asking him about…. soup??
“Excuse me?” He managed to say, a look of pure bewilderment still plastered on his usually smug face.
“She likes it, so I’m going to make some. You don’t look like you’ve eaten recently either, so I want to know if I need to make enough for three.” Your tone was soft but completely matter-of-fact as you stroked the young girl’s hair.
Silco nodded slowly. “Soup would be…. fine.”
Without another word, you simply turned on your heel and headed for the kitchen, murmuring words of comfort to the child in your arms.
_______
You were the brutally soft woman who had invaded Silco’s life and turned it upside down in the best way possible…. Which is how the Kingpin found himself in his current position: buried deep inside you, biting your shoulder as the thick, swollen head of his cock kissed your cervix.
The pain-tinged pleasure was almost blinding, but fuck, it was exactly what you wanted. It was enough to have you desperately moaning his name and your back arching. The Eye of Zaun kissed the column of your neck hungrily, trailing his lips all the way up to your ear. Silco’s warm breath caressed the shell of your ear as he nipped at the delicate skin before murmuring. “You’re sure about this, my lovely?”
“Silco, please.” You whined, voice barely audible over the sound of him fucking you. “W-we talked about this. I want a baby…. I want you to get me pregnant.”
Silco growled in response, reaching up to palm the swell of your soft, generously curved breasts. He had you pressed back across the smooth wood of his desk, all of his papers and work carelessly thrown to the side as he took you roughly, with an almost singular purpose. The gold-trimmed bottom hem of the dress you favored had been roughly shoved up around the curves of your hips to allow him more room between your thighs. He leaned over to kiss you hungrily.
“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, sliding one of his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. Your tongue laved around it, eyelids fluttering shut in bliss as he pressed it in further.
Silco hissed at the sight, trailing his other hand up to caress the soft skin of your lower abdomen. He pressed down with the flat of his palm, making you cry out at the sudden pressure before following it with another gentle massage. “Wanting me to fuck you raw like this…. Such a pretty thing, and you want to carry my child.”
The thought of you pregnant was nearly enough to make him cum instantly. Your body would change… swell with the life he put inside you. Everyone would know it… Everyone would see his claim on you. Yes, Jinx would be getting a sibling, and Silco would be glad about that alone, but his true desires were much more selfish.
You whimpered as his clever fingers found their next target: one of your overly-sensitive nipples. Silco bit back a moan of his own, imagining your breasts swollen and heavy with milk. “Let me hear it again, lovely. Say my name.”
A particularly delicious thrust of his hips punctuated each word, and Silco’s name fell from your kiss-swollen lips. Your orgasm burned through your body as you fell apart beneath him, whimpering and begging him to finish, to give you what you craved most.
Silco’s beautiful green eye rolled back in bliss as his fingers forcefully dug into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises as he chased his own climax. His hips snapped into yours lewdly, and with one last strangled groan, the Eye of Zaun joined you in pure euphoria. The movement of his hips slowed, and you felt his warm seed fill you completely.
Your head dropped back against the desk with a soft thunk, your energy completely and utterly spent. Silco caressed your temple, raising one of your hands to his lips to kiss it gently.
“Beautiful…” he murmured, letting his gaze wash over you unashamedly and making no move to leave your warmth. You shifted your hips slightly, drawing a short, sharp hiss from your lover as you sighed contentedly, completely relaxed beneath him.
Silco dipped down to press more reverent kisses against your skin, his smooth, deep voice intensely comforting. “We are going to stay just like this for a few more minutes. It wouldn’t do for any of our hard work to go to waste.”
____________
Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @eriseffigy @ashotofspotchka @thebeardedmoon @dont-mess-with-my-fandom @redflamesbaku @My-awakened-ghost @agatemermaid @shadow-pancake9 @zaunsin @warpedbands @kemeso25 @ironandglass @nyx2021 @amyroswell @tinybookworm16 @dendrophileunsated @cassandrablacker @aikoiya @lemmielem
(If you are on my tag list and your name is crossed out, then the info I have for you either needs updating, or Tumblr is being strange)
#lyria responds#silco#silco arcane#silco fanfiction#silco fanfic#arcane#arcane fanfic#silco x reader#silco x you#silco league of legends#silco smut#silco imagine#silco simp
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Bricked Up
Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI
Silco x f!reader, Smut, reader is stuck in a wall, blowjob, fingering (female receiving), sex as payment,
Word count: 4.4k
Based on this gorgeous art by @ivyunleashed
No betas, we die like reader's dignity
After managing to escape a group of Firelights, you find yourself stuck. In a wall, to be precise. And who is it that finds you in such a vulnerable position but your boss, Silco?
Read on AO3
A/N: If there's enough interest, I've certainly left it open for a part two. Maybe some hurt/comfort for Reader's cuts? And some Silco cock with prolonged eye contact???
I wrote a part 2!
Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon
Join my taglist!
#silcoitus#silcoitus writing#silco fanfic#silco x you#silco#silco x reader#arcane silco#silco smut#silco simp#silco one-shot
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You catch Silco's eye at The Last Drop, but he isn't the only one interested in you.
Silco x fem!reader x Sevika
Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact.
Word Count: 5,900
Warnings: Clubs, predator/prey vibes, sex, interrupted sex, minor voyeurism, threesomes, anal fingering, double penetration, anal sex, sex toy use.
Masterlist
---
You were on a bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies. You were trying to stay afloat in the wash of touches, your body stretching in ways it never had before. With the all-encompassing sensations, you were struggling to remember exactly how you had gotten to this point.
You hadn’t been drugged or anything. That much needed to be said, especially somewhere like The Last Drop. But no, the fuzziness of the evening had started from the first time you had caught the Shimmer-glowing eye of Silco himself, and you were drunk on everything that had happened since.
Catching Silco’s attention wasn’t something you had set out to do. Just the thought would have made you dizzy with nervousness and intimidation. Those weren’t emotions you had very often. Growing up in the deepest shadows cast by Piltover had left you with the distinct impression that there was no further you could sink.
And there were always predators in the deep.
When you had first noticed that mismatched gaze fixed on you, you had put on your best blank expression. Every Undercity resident worth their air knew that Silco wasn’t someone to fuck with. And if he had decided that he didn’t like the look of you, it would be better to leave The Last Drop before he had a chance to kick you out personally.
Admittedly, he would be more likely to send his second-in-command, Sevika, to get rid of you. That didn’t make it any more pleasant, though she was easily as attractive as he was - just with a different sort of danger.
In any case, you lost sight of him after that, though you couldn’t help but scan the crowds regularly for a sight of that glowing eye. Every time you didn’t see it, you relaxed a little more, though you couldn’t help recognizing that there was a part of yourself that rode a wave of disappointment.
Silco was known for being dangerous, but he was also undeniably handsome. That trim body and sharp fashion sense were paired with the keenest wit the Undercity had seen in decades, and he used it to his best advantage. Silco could take apart his enemies with a few well-placed words and a single command to his army of followers.
And he fucked.
Very few people could claim the distinction of having been with the Eye of Zaun, but everyone seemed to have a story about the time their friend’s older sibling’s cousin had spent a few glorious hours in the chem-baron’s company.
You would be willing to dismiss those stories as urban legends, a simple desire to make Silco’s power personal by having it exercised over you directly, but the stories all shared a few too many details. Firstly, they almost always started with someone catching Silco’s eye in The Last Drop.
Second, he was always very much in charge. It wasn’t something you would struggle to believe. If Silco was going to hook up with a stranger, it was only smart to make sure he was in control of the situation, if only to keep from being double-crossed.
Third, the person was never contacted again after their initial encounter with Silco. If they met him somewhere else, he was cool and indifferent toward them. It was clear that he was interested in short-term pleasure, not long-term commitment.
There were a few other factors that featured in most stories, but they weren’t entirely consistent and you didn’t count them. For instance, a lot of stories had Sevika involved, but not all of them. Some listed favorite positions or toys that were used, but those reports were so varied as to be pointless.
Overall, you considered the stories a fascinating look at how folklore supported shadowy figures in the Undercity. It was an interesting way to pass your time, even if it felt a bit voyeuristic. But you were simply interested in a major Undercity player, and found the pursuit of trends in stories a good indicator of that. You were watching solely as an academic exercise, not from any personal interest.
That was why you had regularly chosen to drink at the Drop for the past few months. The only reason.
Still, despite the stories - nay, Silco’s sexual exploits had reached the level of legend - you hadn’t expected to actually make eye contact with Silco himself. Even then, your tipsy-but-watchful demeanor hadn’t been enough to see him a second time.
Perhaps it had been a fluke. You weren’t stupid enough to think it had been anyone other than Silco, but you were also willing to concede that he probably observed the goings-on of The Last Drop. It wasn’t impossible that he had been watching the crowd at the same moment that you had been looking around. Still, there was something about the way his gaze had slowly slid away from yours that made you think he had been watching you for a while.
And you had to consider the tingling feeling of being watched, dancing invisible fingertips between your shoulder blades.
But you hadn’t seen Silco again. Not until you had gone to the bar. The bartender had slid you a drink before you had even ordered, directing you to a hallway that led from one side of the room. There, you found a staircase, and the door at the top had been unlocked…
When you opened the door and stepped into the darkened room beyond, Silco had been inside. You couldn’t claim to be completely surprised - who else would have a bedroom in The Last Drop?
You also weren’t stupid enough to believe that the room was actually where Silco slept. No, the bed was ridiculously big and the shelves against the walls held a variety of lascivious-looking toys. This was clearly where Silco hooked up with people from his club.
That, at least, ended up being correct. Silco had shared a drink with you, telling you bluntly that he was interested in fucking you that night. He asked if you were interested in that, too. Your immediate and resounding ‘yes’ was embarrassing, but he only gave a small smirk and told you to finish your drink while you discussed preferences and limits.
When that was settled, you found yourself on that giant mattress, flat on your back under him as he ravaged your mouth. He explored you thoroughly, taking control so casually and naturally that it only seemed to make sense.
And then he was inside of you, pushing himself deep as you arched your back and cried out for him. Your voice was loud in the room - too loud, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was thick and hot, and you could feel him throbbing. Or maybe you were the one throbbing, your inner muscles working around him as your body tried to decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out of you entirely.
Just as you were beginning to relax around and under him, a loud bang made you jump. You couldn’t see much from under the canopy of Silco’s body, but you managed to spy that the door was now open. More importantly, someone was standing inside.
“Scoop told me to come find you- Oh.”
The voice was low and rough, so much so that it took a moment for you to realize that it was female. And there was only one person you could think of who wouldn’t be apologizing profusely by this point: Sevika.
To your mingled surprise and embarrassment, Sevika stepped around the bed until she could see you more clearly past Silco’s shielding body. Her lips curved into a sardonic smirk as her dark eyes wandered over every bit of you visible in your current position.
“Nice going, boss,” Sevika congratulated lowly. “If you didn’t wreck that pretty pussy, I was gonna do it myself.”
Your breath caught at that, the muscles of your core fluttering at the unexpected filth.
Silco rolled his hips, pressing further into you and driving a gasp from your lungs. “Mmm, she liked that. And, as it happens, I’ve already started working on ruining her.”
“Everything I’ve seen so far seems pretty tame,” Sevika said with a scoff. “I think you’re losing your touch. Maybe you should let an expert take over.”
Silco bared his teeth, holding your hips tight against his to keep himself buried deep as he rolled. When you were on top, still laying with your chest pressed to his, Silco raised his eyebrows at Sevika. “I am the expert here. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should see for yourself.”
Sevika grinned, teeth flashing brightly in her smile. Her lightning-quick wink was the last thing you saw before she stepped out of view once more.
When you would have turned your head to keep her in view, Silco gripped your chin and held it steady to press a kiss to your lips. When he let you pull away, he murmured, “Pay attention. You’ll hurt my pride.”
The feeling of his chest rubbing against your stiffened nipples made your eagerness surge, but the sharp gasp was pulled from you by a different sensation: fingertips running upward along one side of your entrance, trailing around where Silco’s length had you spread wide around him. You couldn’t help a squirming shiver when that touch traveled up and between your cheeks.
“Sensitive little thing, isn’t she?” Sevika asked, a warm chuckle rumbling through her voice.
“If you could feel her the way I can, you would not need to ask.” Silco punctuated it with a pulse of his hips that made you gasp and cling to him.
Normally, this was not your kind of thing. You preferred to be an active partner in your sexual encounters, and the fact that most of the comments being tossed around were pointedly not directed toward you should have made you nervous. Probably would have in any other situation, if you were being honest.
But you felt exposed like this, knowing someone was watching. Someone who had plainly stated that she was also interested in your body. That, combined with the knowledge of how dangerous both of them were, kept you calm as they spoke around you rather than including you in the conversation. You felt as if you were slowly turning into a pile of flesh and nerves, able to do nothing but limply receive the pleasure you were offered.
Somehow, it was working for you.
“But you have yet to tell me,” Silco continued, giving another lazy thrust that made you squirm down onto him more firmly. “How does she look?”
“Needy. Hot. Desperate. Sexy,” Sevika said with a hum. Her attention was still between your legs as she scattered adjectives through the conversation. She played idly with you and - if you were to guess from his low growl - with Silco as well. Her fingers pulled you wider, as if testing how far your folds would spread. “The only way she’ll look better is dripping with cum, too fucked-out to move.”
You were listening intently to her, but a sound in the room made it hard to focus. It was only when they both chuckled that you realized the sound was a whine, coming from between your own parted lips.
“I can think of something else that may be better still,” Silco mused. His voice sounded teasing, but he didn’t continue. The silence felt heavy, weighed down with expectation and more than a hint of anticipation.
Silco’s hand smoothed over your temple, making you twitch with surprise. You glanced up to find him watching you. “What do you think, pet? Shall we invite Sevika to join us?”
Your mouth went dry. You didn’t want to risk trying and failing to speak, so you settled for a fervent nod. Silco’s lips curled as he glanced behind you. There was a knowing light glowing in his mismatched eyes, but they were aimed at Sevika, not you.
“Where do you want me?” Even Sevika’s low voice and brusque tone couldn’t disguise her interest. There was a stab of satisfaction in your gut - you may have been needy, but she wasn't as unaffected as she wanted to seem.
"Hmm…" Silco drawled, tracing circles on your skin that made you shiver. "If we truly want to ruin her, there would seem to be an obvious choice."
His touch lifted your chin once more, pulling your touch-drunk gaze toward his. With that orange eye burning deep into your mind and soul, Silco asked, "Shall Sevika and I share you? Take you at the same time?"
You nodded again, but Silco stared harder. "And has your lovely rear ever taken anything before?"
Feeling inexplicably disappointed in yourself and your past sexual partners, you slowly shook your head.
"And would you like to try?"
Your eyes snapped back to Silco's face, core throbbing. "Yes, I would."
Silco's lips curled into a pleased and slightly predatory smile.
Behind you, Sevika barked a laugh. "She can still speak." The chill of metal fingers against the side of your face made your eyes flutter closed. "We'll fix that."
"Get harnessed," Silco ordered, and Sevika's artificial touch disappeared from you. "Use the smallest toy. I want her ruined, not destroyed."
Even as your body gave a throb, clearly of the opinion that it wouldn't mind either way, Sevika said, "I’ll get ready. You keep doing what you were doing."
Silco took her at her word. He started slow, guiding your hips up and down on his length. When you had found the right combination of movements on your part and the right amount of Silco thrusting into you from below, your pace naturally built back to where it had been before.
The sound of your panting breaths filled the room, pairing chaotically with the sounds of sex. You had almost forgotten about Sevika entirely in the sprint toward your impending orgasm. But Silco stopped you with a steady press of fingers against your hips, his attention moving to something behind you. When he gave an approving smile, you glanced back as well.
Sevika was standing behind you, baring more skin than you could remember seeing her display. Her muscular arms were on full show, leading up to broad, strong shoulders. She was wearing a black breastband, but it could hardly contain the rounded swells of her breasts and your mouth watered at the idea of seeing them without any cover at all. Her abdomen was taut, a hint of muscle definition casting shadows on the flat expanse of her stomach. There was a suggestion of a rounded lower belly that made you itch to touch Sevika’s dusky skin, but that bit of softness was covered by a pair of black, form-fitting boxers.
When your eyes finally fell between Sevika’s legs, you could see that the boxers doubled as a harness. The toy held in place by the boxers was also black, and you struggled to pick out its edges against the darkness of the background. Sevika helped you - perhaps inadvertently - as she worked the short shaft, coating it with shining lube.
You watched her fist the toy, laying a thick coat of slippery gel over the surface. Your mouth was dry, but you did your best to pretend that you weren’t utterly entranced by the sight.
Silco gave a rumbling laugh, and it buzzed pleasantly through you. “Like what you see, pet? Do you think you can take her?”
Sevika smirked at you, hand spreading open between the toy and the boxers so you could see it more clearly. It was… smaller than expected.
“That’s it?” you asked, cringing at yourself a moment later.
Sevika laughed out loud. “For your first time? It’s plenty, trust me. Anything bigger and we really would destroy you.”
You smiled back, but Silco was already moving on. “Sevika is going to prepare you. I want your eyes on me.”
When you turned back to face the man beneath you, Silco nodded slowly. “One moment.”
Silco’s hands were firm around your hips. He used the leverage of them to spear himself as far into you as he could get, pressing deep and deeper until there wasn’t a fraction of space between your pelvis and his. Your mouth had fallen open somewhere along the line as you dealt with the flood of sensations, but he wasn’t done.
His palms slid up either side of your spine, pulling you forward until you were lying flat against him again, your breasts crushed to his chest and his length shifting oddly inside of you. You weren’t sure what look you were wearing when you stared down at him from inches away, but the pupil of Silco’s green eye was blown wide and you thought you would drown in the darkness of it.
Sevika’s touch made you jump just a bit, but it was enough to pull you free of the trap in Silco’s gaze. She must have been touching you with her metal arm, since her hand was cool and firm against you. She found the place where your spine met your ass, the spot where the sway of your spine rose past your tailbone and into the swell of your hips.
When her hand was on that anchoring spot, Sevika pressed down. It wasn’t painful, even with the unyielding metal of her replacement arm. However, it did lock you in place against Silco, holding you steady even when you tried to squirm at the feeling of him inside of you.
The feeling of warm, slippery fingers came a moment later - hardly a surprise, even as a gasp fought to escape you. That touch traveled closer and closer to the center of your ass, working its way toward that secret place hidden between your lower cheeks.
She quickly found your rear entrance and pressed a finger against it. You made an inhuman sound at the firm touch even as you fought to wiggle your hips closer. When her hand on you and Silco’s anchoring grip made that impossible, you settled for arching your back to give her better access.
Sevika laughed, and the sound warmed your face. “Responsive. I like her already.”
“Just wait,” Silco told her lazily. “She’s the best I’ve had in some time. Not overly chatty, either.”
“Just the way you like ‘em,” Sevika remarked. Her fingers playing against the small of your back made you shudder - or perhaps that was the way her other hand was poised and ready to breach you. When Sevika spoke again, her voice was closer to you, as if she had leaned in. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some sounds outta you either way.”
Somehow, you managed a halfway sexy laugh. "Promises, promises."
A firm slap to your ass took your breath away. It was a good spank, but it also forced you further into Silco's cock and ground your clit against his pelvis.
"Sevika," Silco's voice lashed lowly through the room. "Enough teasing."
As if to prove his own point, Silco used his grip on your hips to pull you up off of him and slam you back down. The suddenness of it made it all the more intense, and you started riding him without any further prompting.
"We'll start you off slowly," Silco said, offering a nod past you.
A cool drop of liquid landed just above the crack of your ass, sliding slowly downward. The first drop was followed by another and another, until the slippery gel had started working its way down to your heated core.
Searching fingers slipped between your cheeks and you tensed reflexively. Sevika's voice was low and close as she said, "Relax."
That wasn't going to happen any time soon, not with her touching what she was getting ready to, but you made an effort anyway. The tension drained slowly from your muscles, and you were so focused that you hadn't noticed the way Silco had stopped moving again.
His hands traveled upward to splay across your back once more, holding you steady as one of Sevika's fingers found your rear entrance and began to press against it.
Your vision seemed to dim. Not from the sensation itself - though that was certainly a source of interest - but because you were concentrating so hard on the way it felt that you weren’t fully using your eyes anymore. Beyond a vague recognition that Silco was watching you closely, all of your focus was on something you couldn’t see.
With the lube that was coating you, Sevika’s finger provided almost no friction. If not for the press of her knuckles against the softness of your cheeks, you would hardly know what she was doing. Her finger was equally slick (you suspected it had been coated with a fresh sheen of lubrication), but far more noticeable with the way it pressed against you.
Your entrance braced against the intrusion, fighting to keep it out. As the pressure increased against you, you drew tighter and tighter. Silco made a surprised noise at the way your inner muscles squeezed around him. It was quiet, but just enough to distract you. You relaxed as you glanced at Silco, and that was all it took for Sevika’s finger to breach you.
Naturally, you tensed. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Not uncomfortable, but different in a way that stole your focus. That ring of muscle seemed to stretch impossibly wide around the invader, and that feeling only grew as more and more of her finger sank into you.
“You’re a fool not to take her ass yourself,” Sevika informed Silco. “She’s gonna be perfect.”
“Perhaps I consider the privilege a reward for your excellent work,” Silco countered. “Besides, she is strangling my cock now. I think this will prove pleasurable for both of us. And even more so for our lovely guest.”
Sevika hummed in agreement, the fingers of her free hand dancing over the small of your back. “If she can walk after this, we haven’t done enough.”
With a twisting motion, Sevika curled her finger all the way into you, stopping only when her knuckles were pressing against the cheeks of your ass. The noise you made was short and sharp, an audible expression of your pleasure.
“Are her eyes crossing yet?” Sevika asked.
Silco caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, carefully turning your face from side to side. “I do not believe so, but we have plenty of time. Sevika will keep her finger in you, pet, while we resume our activities. I want you used to taking something in two places at once before we start in earnest.”
It wasn’t a question - no part of it had been, but you nodded anyway. Silco grabbed your hips again, guiding you in a new rhythm. He stayed deep inside of you, his tip never quite leaving your core even as he thrust. You picked up the pattern and started to follow it eagerly. There was a different dimension to the pleasure with something in your ass.
Sevika followed your movements with her hand, keeping her finger buried in you. It spurred you on, adding spice to every thrust as you adjusted to being stretched in two places.
A warmth at your back warned that Sevika was leaning in again. “Let’s take him apart.”
Your movements stuttered when her finger started to move inside of you, but she didn’t start to fuck you with it. Instead, she curled the digit, timing each curl perfectly to catch Silco’s tip at every thrust.
Silco’s brows furrowed, a harsh curse leaving him. He picked up speed when yours faltered, holding the rhythm even when you were completely distracted by the feeling of Sevika pressing against the thin wall that separated her from Silco.
At last - and long after your brain had melted entirely - Silco seemed to have had enough. With his chipped teeth bared, he hissed, “Sevika. Take her.”
The abrupt feeling of Sevika’s finger sliding from you made you gasp. She and Silco both chuckled, though Silco’s voice sounded a little strained.
“Ready?” Sevika asked, ducking forward so you could see her without straining your neck. Her eyes seemed even darker, excitement sharpening her features. You could only nod in silent agreement.
Her hands pressed you forward against Silco’s chest once more. You felt them travel down slowly, teasing where you and the chem baron were joined. Her touch dipped briefly lower and Silco cursed again. “Focus, Sevika.”
As if enticing her to do exactly that, Silco grabbed as much of your ass as he could possibly hold, spreading your cheeks wide as your face went hot. Sevika’s hastily stifled groan eased your embarrassment, but your breathing had picked up and you were fighting not to push back toward her.
A metal hand against the base of your spine drew your attention from your own eagerness for a moment. “Keep relaxed for me,” Sevika urged.
It was an impossible thing to ask, but you did your best as she placed the tip of her toy against your ass. You felt your eyes widen as she started to push into you.
You had seen the toy. It was small, almost laughably so. But now, it felt immense against your rear entrance. As it started to spear into you, it seemed to stretch you impossibly wide. The intrusion burned slightly, even with the generous amounts of lube that coated both you and the toy, and you would have shifted away from it if Silco weren’t holding you so tightly.
Your mouth opened, ready to call things off and walk away, but there was a slight popping sensation that made you jolt. “Head’s in.”
Sevika’s explanation answered your unasked question, but you couldn’t acknowledge her verbally. The steady slide of the toy into you was smooth and inevitable, your body letting it in with minimal struggle.
The firm press of her boxer-clad hips against your ass made you jump again, but Sevika’s hands smoothed down your sides. “Doin’ good for me, pretty girl. We’re gonna stay like this for a minute.”
You nodded, agreeing to yet another thing that hadn’t truly been a question. Slowly, Silco urged you to sit upright on him. You winced at the feeling of being stretched in two places, but it wasn’t painful. Silco wasn’t a small man and it was always odd to move this way with someone inside of you. Sevika’s toy was small, but it was odd and different enough to make you double-check every sensation to see whether it was good or bad.
Sevika started things, gently massaging your breasts from behind. Her touch was gentle but insistent, bringing your body back to eagerness. Silco joined in soon afterward, focusing his attention between your legs. His nimble fingers teased your folds around where he was speared and further back, but most of his attention was fixed on your clit.
Your lips parted as your breathing picked up. Silco and Sevika’s motions synced up, and Sevika’s fingers rolled your nipple just as Silco gave your clit a firm rub. You moaned aloud, head tipping forward in time to see a smirk spread over Silco’s face.
“It sounds as if our pet is ready to be fucked,” he remarked conversationally to Sevika. “Shall we?”
“Hmm…” Sevika hedged, rolling her hips against your ass as she thought. The motion knocked you off-balance, pushing you forward along Silco’s cock and spearing you back onto both of them when you corrected your position. You let out a plaintive sound. “How can I resist when she sounds like that?”
“Are you ready?” Silco asked, grabbing your chin once more.
That grip kept you from nodding. With your three functional brain cells, you managed, “Yes. Please.”
“Please,” Sevika repeated, amused. “You don’t have to beg. Yet.”
And then they started to move. The first few thrusts were disjoined, leaving you tossed back and forth between them like a toy boat in a storm. But they found a devastating rhythm soon enough. Silco pumped in and out of you, using his length to best advantage. Sevika had less of a shaft to work with, but she focused her energy on giving a little swivel of her hips with every stroke. The combination was lethal.
It seemed that you had just started when your body tightened. Tension was screaming through every muscle, warning that you were only moments away from utterly imploding.
“I- I’m–” you stammered, someone taking the words from your lips before you could get any further than a single word into your warning.
“We know,” Silco said, smugness written across his face.
“Surprised you made it this long,” Sevika agreed.
You decided that the best revenge would be to come. Your body wasn’t waiting for permission from your brain, but the timing was great - no sooner had you made your decision than every muscle in your body locked down.
Colors burst behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm you’d ever had roared through you. You had always imagined going through a hex-gate would be like that: an all-encompassing experience that robbed you of every sense until you were through. Of course, if the hex-gates felt anywhere near as amazing as it did to come on Silco and Sevika’s cocks, you would understand the exorbitant prices for passage.
If not for Silco’s hands on your hips and Sevika’s arms around your torso, you would have stopped moving entirely, other than to collapse forward. Somehow, they kept you upright, even when they edged you toward overstimulation.
Silco let out a low, wordless growl as he fucked up into you hard for a thrust, then two. When he was buried as far into you as he could possibly get, he came. The condom he wore kept you from feeling its heat, but his staccato pounding pushed you into a strong aftershock.
He was almost pretty like that, you reflected, watching Silco writhe beneath you. Fierce, of course, and always imposing, but somehow pretty. Maybe it was the way his eyes flashed, or how his face narrowed even more with the intensity of his pleasure. Or maybe it was the way his jaw dropped, a helpless sound of pleasure leaving him even as his brow crinkled with irritation at his own vulnerability.
Eventually, Silco lay slack on the bed, watching you and Sevika as his cock slowly softened inside of you. You were still pushed forward and back on him, moving slightly with Sevika’s thrusts. It felt inappropriate somehow, having your ass fucked while you were watched by the man you had started the night with. But Silco seemed unbothered, tracing lazy circles against your hips as he held you still to receive Sevika’s thrusts.
You could come again this way, you decided idly. Anal was a slower build to orgasm than you were used to, but it was certainly more powerful when it got there.
“Close yet?” Silco asked eventually. It could have sounded impatient or jealous, but his tone was nothing more than curious.
“Close,” Sevika confirmed. “It’s a smaller hilt than I would have wanted.”
“Did you choose the one that vibrates?”
You couldn’t see Sevika’s expression, but there was something close to glee in her voice as she said, “Forgot about that, but yeah.”
“Allow me,” Silco offered valiantly. He reached to grab something from a nearby table, and then you were too busy writhing to worry about what he was holding.
Sevika’s toy buzzed violently in your ass, and you were choking on air at the unexpected sensation. You could only squirm with the surprise of it, but when you had regained some control of your muscles, your instincts hijacked your brain. The only thing you could do was lean forward onto hands you had planted against Silco’s chest, pulling away and thrusting yourself back onto Sevika’s toy as quickly as you could manage.
Between your sudden eagerness and Sevika’s continued thrusting, the toy pulled free of and punched back in far more often than it had up to that point. A small, almost silent part of you recognized that the ache would be fierce the next day, but that concern was overwhelmed by the vast majority of you that insisted this was necessary. You needed to come again. If you didn’t, you would die.
At last, Sevika gave a sharp, staccato cry and buried her face in your neck. The flexing of her hips buried the toy as far inside of you as it could get. The buzzing brought you to a small but powerful second orgasm. You reveled in every second of it, even as Silco turned off the toy’s vibrations and soreness immediately set in.
Sevika pulled out of you, and the resulting motion of your hips allowed Silco to slide free as well. You collapsed on the surface of the bed, your fall cushioned by blankets and the arms of the two strangers you’d had sex with.
They started a low conversation above you as you throbbed and basked in the afterglow. Either they were speaking too quietly for you to hear or your brain wasn’t quite capable of processing speech yet. Either way, you were largely left to your own thoughts.
You hadn’t watched Sevika come. That was the only part of the experience you regretted. Silco was beautiful when he came, and you were willing to bet that Sevika had been the same. Unfortunately, she had been behind you and there were no mirrors that you could see. You felt cheated, almost, robbed of the chance to see a strong, stunning woman brought to her knees with pleasure from your body.
But you couldn’t truly complain. The rest of the night had been incredible. Silco truly deserved to have so many people talking about his talents in the bedroom. If he had orchestrated the whole scenario - and you strongly suspected that he had - he was both a master manipulator and someone with a keen need for pleasure.
Yes, if you were only going to get one chance at this, you were satisfied in how things had played out. And you had been with both Silco and Sevika! Two of the most dangerous people in the Undercity had let you share their bed, and they had cared enough about your pleasure to be sure that you came twice.
Now, you had your own story to share… but you didn’t think you would. This felt like something to keep quiet and close, to treasure for the rest of your life. And, of course, to get off to when you were feeling particularly lonely or needy.
“Is she wrecked enough for your tastes?”
Silco’s quiet question was the first thing you had understood in quite some time, and you realized with a start that he was talking about you.
“Mmhmm,” Sevika hummed, sounding wickedly satisfied. “Look at her.”
Since they were sitting at the right angle to be staring at your sensitive core, you didn’t bother to keep your eyes open. You were tempted to be shy, but sleep was calling louder and louder. They had made a mess of you, after all. They could look at that mess if they liked.
“I would like to try her mouth next time,” Silco added, almost absently.
Sevika let out a short laugh. “Works for me. I wanna bury my tongue in that pussy until she’s sobbing.”
“We’ll have to do this again soon,” Silco agreed.
You could hardly believe your ears, but even your excitement couldn’t keep you awake. You faded into soft and filthy dreams, the words ‘next time’ echoing in your ears as you went.
---
Author's Note - The reader character does and says a lot less than I'm used to writing, so my apologies for that. Honestly, this was fueled by scraps of a weird dream after I had too much wine one night. My excuse is that it was a very overwhelming dream for an ace-spectrum writer, so I just got it all down on paper as soon as I could!
Thanks for reading!
#fanfic february#fanfic february 2024#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane silco#arcane sevika#silco#sevika#silco x reader#silco x you#sevika x reader#sevika x you#silco x reader x sevika#silco x you x sevika#reader#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#reader insert fanfic#reader insert fic#lemon#spicy#not suitable for minors#minors dni
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Arm Candy (Silco/F!Reader)
“I need someone who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.”
Silco needs a plus-one for a fancy topsider party. You don't really have a choice but to agree.
AO3 Link
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)
Words: 5.8k
Content: Resolved sexual tension; semi-public sex; vaginal fingering; dirty talk; dubious business ethics
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It wasn’t often you got called into Silco’s office first thing in the morning. You were a paper-pusher, not one of the battle-hardened henchmen who usually hung around the Last Drop, and your work mostly kept you at your desk. Calculations came as naturally to you as breathing, and you could crunch numbers faster even than Silco himself. In the few months you’d been working for the Eye of Zaun, you’d made yourself indispensable. You helped keep track of the Shimmer shipments going to and from Zaun, you effortlessly slipped the profits from the drugs business into the earnings from the various factories and bars and properties that Silco owned, and once a week you’d spend the evening alone in the office with your stern, exacting boss while you went over that week’s financial reports. Silco needed someone to cook his books, and you prided yourself on being the best damn chef in the undercity. You kept to yourself, you prayed he never noticed your furtive glances up at him when he was absorbed in his work, and you did not cause trouble.
So it was only natural that your stomach twisted itself into knots as you stepped into his office, and that those knots tightened when he looked up from the paper he was reading, his bicoloured stare pinning you and making your walk to stand in front of his desk feel like miles instead of metres.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said when you were near, and the way his eyes flicked over you, almost too quickly for you to notice, did nothing to calm you.
“I did,” he said, his chair creaking as he leaned back in it. You’d definitely never wondered if it could hold two people. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
You could swear that sentence made your brain fritz like a faulty wire. “I, um—” Absolutely nothing was the real answer, but for some reason you didn’t want to admit that. “I made plans with…Ran and Dustin,” you said, saying the first names that came to your mind even though you’d never shared more than small talk with either of them.
Silco’s eyebrow raised as if he could see right through your lie. Which he probably could, because it was completely transparent. “Then cancel them. I need your help at an event.”
“What kind of…event?” you said, your mind reeling with all the things Silco could be alluding to. Shakedowns, back-alley deals, assassinations…
“Don’t look so frightened,” Silco said, taking a cigar from his ashtray and lighting it. He took a deep drag, letting the smoke billow around him as he spoke. “Are you familiar with Ko Shosu?”
It took you a moment to remember the name from some of the background research you’d carried out on Silco’s competitors. “Doesn’t he own that factory that makes gears or something?”
“The very same. He’s hosting a party at his residence topside tomorrow night and unfortunately, I’ll need to make an appearance. Shosu seems to think we’re acquaintances. And on top of that, I happen to know that one of his associates has run into some financial trouble as of late. His factory makes components that are essential to the Shimmer-tanks we’re developing. Now isn’t that a stroke of luck?”
“You want to get to this associate so you can get him to work with you?”
“Exactly. His name is Rupert Torek and he’s run up gambling debts with some very unsavoury people. I’m sure he’ll be cooperative once he realises I can lend him enough money to get himself out of debt before his wife finds out.”
You decided not to ask how Silco could have information like that on someone he’d never even met. For your sanity’s sake, it was better not to know. “And why do you need me, sir?”
It might have just been your imagination, but you could swear Silco looked you up and down again. Slower this time. “I thought that would be obvious. I cannot exactly show up to something like this alone. I need someone who can distract Torek’s wife so I can get five minutes alone with him, and who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.”
“I, um—” you floundered for a minute – the words look pretty on my arm setting your heart racing, which was stupid, he’d literally just said he wanted you to be his arm candy for a night, it meant nothing – and Silco raised an eyebrow at your hesitation.
“You’ll be paid overtime for your trouble, of course,” he said.
“That wasn’t—thank you, sir,” you said quickly.
“Good,” he said, flicking through some of the papers on his desk, his focus already slipping back to his work. “Meet me outside Ko Shosu’s house at eight sharp. Wear something nice and do not be late.”
It was a struggle to focus on your work for the next two days. The figures that usually came so easily to you seemed to blur together until you had to triple-check your spreadsheets in case you’d made an error while your mind insisted on screeching Silco think’s I’m pretty over and over like a stuck record. You were sure he’d meant nothing by that offhanded comment, but that didn’t help anything.
It was almost a relief when the next evening rolled around just so you could focus on doing something.
But that relief didn’t last long when you realised you didn’t have the first clue what you should wear to a party at a topsider’s fancy estate. There wasn’t time to hit up the markets even if you could justify the expense, so you settled for a black dress that was simple, but showed off your figure without showing too much of anything else, as you could at least guess that anything shorter than the knee-length hem of your dress might not go over well among the stiff, buttoned-up topsiders. You’d had the dress a long time and had to stitch it once or twice, but surely nobody would notice a little thing like that.
You felt strangely buoyant as you made your way through the upper districts of Zaun, where at this time in the evening business was just starting to pick up. Lines were forming outside the nicer clubs, the street hawkers were packing up to make way for the crowds, and the air nearly sparkled with Shimmer residue as you passed the open doors of some of the edgier establishments, where topsiders went to get a taste of the undercity without actually having to venture below. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be annoyed at the arrogant topsiders who came to Zaun to indulge in all the things they couldn’t in Piltover before returning to their cushy homes and easy lives. Tonight felt like an infiltration, and it was you who would be inserting yourself somewhere you could never belong.
-
You met up with Silco outside the gates of Ko Shosu’s estate. He’d gone straight there from a meeting with some topsider businessman, and he was dressed as elegantly as he always was. As you approached you glanced at the people milling around on the wide driveway, and you suddenly felt underdressed.
“You’re almost late,” Silco said by way of greeting, and the nervous knot in your stomach only tightened.
“Sorry, sir. Border guards held me up. You know how they are.” The Enforcer at the checkpoint on the bridge had made a huge fuss over your ID photo having a slightly different hairstyle than you did now, just being an asshole because he was an Enforcer and he could.
“Hm,” was all he said as his eyes raked over you, and your mind instantly went to those little stitches in your dress. You suddenly felt as if he could see every little flaw in you, and the feeling only worsened when a couple of women in glittering floor-length gowns swept past, arm-in-arm and laughing airily.
“Do I look all right?” you said just to break the tense silence. “This is the best I have.”
“You look perfectly acceptable,” Silco said, and that was almost worse than if he hadn’t said anything. Acceptable. You’d be lucky if you weren’t mistaken for a servant. “Shall we?” he said then, offering you his arm. When you hesitated, he rolled his eyes. “Take my arm. We have to at least appear as if we both want to be here.”
“Do you want to be here?” you said as you curled your hand around his elbow, trying to ignore the jolt you felt at touching him, even if he was wearing a coat.
He scoffed. “Of course I don’t. But needs must.”
As you made your way up the long driveway, you couldn’t help but gawk at your surroundings. You knew this wasn’t even close to being the grandest house in all of Piltover, but at that moment you could have believed it. There were at least four floors, the upper two ringed in balconies spilling over with hanging flowers and vines. The next closest house had to be at least a hundred metres away, and in the dark space between you could make out the open expanse of a lawn lit by a ring of ground-level lamps, and manicured trees on each side. You couldn’t imagine what the topsiders would do with such a space – you could probably fit a whole other house in there, even one as large as Shosu’s.
And when you entered the house itself, you actually gasped. “Someone lives here? It looks like a palace.”
Silco shot you a glare as you stared at your surroundings with wide eyes, barely even registering the doorman who came to take your coats. “Remember how I said you were the only one I could trust not to fill your pockets? Don’t make me regret it.”
But you were hardly listening as your eyes roved over the crowded ballroom. It was a sea of fine suits and jewel-toned gowns, with servants darting through the throngs like the quick little fish that lived in the shallows of the river, trays of drinks and tiny pastry-like things balanced on their fingertips. Music drifted from somewhere you couldn’t see, almost drowned out by the chatter, and diamonds glittered at fingers and throats – and even on the ceiling, you noticed as your eyes drifted upwards, or at least it seemed like the chandeliers were draped in strings of gemstones that scattered the lights in every direction.
“Concentrate, girl,” Silco muttered close to your ear, making you shiver. “Remember why we’re here. Torek is over there,” he said, though you couldn’t possibly guess which of the guests he was indicating. “Do you remember your task?”
You dragged your eyes away from the spectacle before you to meet his mismatched eyes. “Keep his wife distracted while you get him to consider working with you. I’ve got it.”
“Good. We won’t need to stay long – an hour at most, then you can go home and do whatever you’d like. Maybe you can even catch Ran and Dustin.” As he said this the corner of his mouth tilted up, and you realised with some shock that the Eye of Zaun was teasing you.
You shrugged in what you hoped was nonchalance. “It takes as long as it takes. You know I’m not one to rush a job.”
“I’m aware,” he said as you started to make your way through the crowd, weaving through the throng as if you weren’t aiming straight for your unfortunate target. Perhaps it was because people knew he was from the Undercity, or maybe whispers of the things his people did in dark alleys and dingy establishments travelled ahead of him, but the dense crowd of people seemed to loosen before him, as if people suddenly remembered they had other places to be when he approached. If it offended him, Silco gave no sign, but instead he leaned in to you again. “He is close now. Laugh like I’ve said something terribly clever, you look petrified.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, but you did as he asked anyway, and it seemed to help. The tension you had felt in the air around you receded a little, and before you knew it Silco was shaking hands with a tall, portly man. You barely heard as he introduced you as his guest for the night, your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears. Rupert Torek had an open, kind face, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he smiled, and he didn’t seem surprised that Silco had sought him out. You wondered if he had any idea how fucked he was.
“We haven’t met before! I’m Liana, Rupert’s wife,” a voice at your side said, making you start, though you quickly smoothed it over with a smile as you turned to the woman who had appeared next to you, introducing yourself and hoping you sounded like you knew you belonged here, just like she did.
Liana glanced between you and Silco, who had already captured her husband’s full attention. Her brows lowered slightly, and you wondered if she had suspicions about her husband’s gambling. “I didn’t know Silco had a partner,” she said carefully.
“Oh, we’re not…together,” you said, laughing airily. “I’m just accompanying him tonight.”
“I see,” Liana said, though now her smile seemed frozen in place, and you wondered if you’d offended her somehow. But nevertheless she called over a couple of her friends, whose names you quickly forgot, and for a moment you were very pleased with yourself. There was no chance Liana would try to join her husband’s conversation while you had her distracted like this.
It was at this point that things started to go wrong.
In hindsight, you should have realised what Liana thought you were implying when you’d said you were accompanying your boss, and what a topsider would think of that particular occupation. But you were a few minutes into a banal, vapid conversation with Liana and her friends about something that you weren’t really paying attention to before you realised that they all thought you were a whore he’d hired for the night, and apparently found this very offensive judging by the bladed smiles and barbed compliments that started heading your way. It didn’t help that you were inadvertently showing much more skin than any of them – and how you were supposed to know the current fashions topside, you had no idea. Pretty soon your fingers were itching to take off one of your high-heeled shoes and beat Liana’s face in with it, but you couldn’t exactly square up in the middle of a ballroom as if you were in a Zaunite dive bar.
So instead, you just played dumb.
You let the thinly-veiled insults, the insinuations that you didn’t belong among them, glance off you. Nobody spent their whole life in Zaun without growing their own kind of armour. Right now yours was keeping your smile frozen firmly on your face, and so Liana was too busy with you to notice that her husband was making a business deal with the Eye of Zaun himself, right under her powdered nose.
That thought made you glance over at Silco, and the second your eyes met his, you felt a strange sort of calm descend over you. Rupert Torek was still chatting away, not even a hint of discomfort on his round face. Silco gave you a minute, almost imperceptible nod, raising his glass of wine slightly.
It had actually worked.
You tried to keep your face blank. That only became harder when Silco turned his attention back to Torek and you realised that when you’d looked over at him, he’d already been watching you.
-
Soon after, you excused yourself to go to the ladies’ room. You were pretty sure Liana and her friends forgot all about you as soon as you were out of sight – or at least you hoped so. You didn’t want to know what they’d be saying about you as soon as you were out of earshot.
You didn’t head to the bathroom, though. Instead you went out the way you’d come in, not bothering to collect your coat from the doorman as you went down the stone steps as fast as you could without running.
As soon as you were outside, away from the glare of the house’s lights, you felt the tightness that had settled in your chest loosen. You hadn’t even noticed the anxiety creep under your skin with every barb Liana and her friends had thrown your way, but when it finally dissipated you wondered how you’d been able to breathe at all.
You should go back now that you’d got your fresh air. You couldn’t just disappear.
But one glance back at the shadowy figures moving through the ballroom windows had you moving away from the house, into the shadows of the grounds where nobody would notice the Zaunite girl who was hilariously out of place among them.
The pathways were lit by low electric lights, and there was nobody else out here. You chose a path along the edge of the grounds, shielded on one side by a high wall and on the other by a huge rosebush bordering the lawn. You weren’t sure whether you were really supposed to be out here, but nobody stopped you as you wandered further into the grounds.
Eventually you found a bench and you sat down, tipping your head back to watch the stars in the sky. You’d only ever seen them when Silco sent you up to Piltover on business, and on those nights there was never time to stop and really look at them. Down in the Undercity it was difficult to see the sky at all through the smog, let alone the dozens of stars that shimmered through the haze of Piltover’s lights.
For some reason you couldn’t name, tears sprang to your eyes unbidden, and you tried to blink them away without ruining your makeup.
Of course, that was the moment you heard footsteps approaching.
“Drinking alone already?”
Your head snapped up to see Silco strolling towards you, and it was then that you realised you still had your glass of wine in your hand. You sighed, taking a sip as your boss sat down next to you.
“Just needed some air,” you muttered as Silco slung his arm over the back of the bench. It didn’t escape you that if you leaned back, he would have his arm around you. “How did it go with Torek?”
“I expect we’ll be getting a visit from him or one of his associates in the near future. His wife wasn’t too much for you, I take it?”
“I handled it. But they’re all just so…ugh.”
Silco chuckled as he pulled a cigar from somewhere in his coat, and you tried not to let the sound startle you. You’d never heard Silco laugh before, not even a little, and the sound was surprisingly warm. “Don’t worry, we won’t have to do this again for a while.” You watched as he held the cigar between his crooked teeth as he flicked his lighter, the strange angle of the lights highlighting his sharp cheekbones as he took a long drag.
“You know, I don’t think we’re allowed to smoke out here.”
“I don’t care.” He blew a long puff of smoke out into the crisp night air, staining it with a rich scent of tobacco and spices. “Is something bothering you?”
You searched for words to explain the anger tightening your throat, but came up with nothing that made sense. You were a numbers girl. Words were Silco’s thing. You shrugged. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m asking, so I would say it does.” His voice had hardened, and you glanced over at him in alarm, though he didn’t look angry.
You didn’t want to push it, though, so you sighed and took a sip from your wine to buy a few seconds, feeling Silco’s mismatched gaze on you the whole time. “It’s just…all they did in there was bitch about things. What I was wearing, how I acted, their husbands, their lives. And yet…” you gestured vaguely at your surroundings. The gardens that must have needed a whole team of people to maintain. The lawn that sat empty when it could have grown enough food to feed a whole street of hungry Zaunites. The house. “They have all this, but it’s all they’ve ever had, so they can’t even see how privileged they really are. Meanwhile we have to scrape every penny just to put food on the table and some people in Zaun don’t even get that. If I lived up here I’d never complain about anything ever again,” you finished, and by now you were speaking into your wine glass, your eyes fixed on the ground.
Silco was quiet for a moment, and you didn’t dare glance up at him to see if you could gauge what he was really thinking. You’d never been so candid with your boss before, and you half expected him to leave and pretend tonight had never happened. The very last thing you expected him to say was, “What if I told you that tonight had been something of a test of your loyalties?”
Now you did look up, and he was watching you with that kind of calculated detachment he was so good at, though something in the hard lines of his face had softened. Or maybe it was just the moonlight.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
He took his time answering, taking another long drag of his cigar and releasing the smoke in a ring. “You’ve been with me a short while now, and you’re a very talented accountant. With your skills and some forged papers you could easily find work topside. Something with less risk and more pay.”
You flushed at his insinuation. “You pay me just fine.”
He rolled his eyes. “All wages are higher topside, you know that. You could have walked out of that house with a whole list of people who would pay you far more than I can for the same work, but you didn’t. Instead you stood there and allowed me to work on Torek while everyone in that room thought you were just some girl I’d hired for the night.”
You started to splutter a protest, but it died on your lips when you realised Silco was right. If you’d revealed your real job it would have raised Liana’s suspicions.
“It’s a long road ahead of us until Zaun is an independent nation. The topsiders won’t let us go without a fight,” he said, his voice dropping in case you weren’t alone in the gardens. “There will be times when you are tempted by offers of money, better jobs in better places, employers who won’t ask you to break the topsiders’ laws every day. I needed to know that you were true to the cause, that you would remain loyal to me even when you had the opportunity to make things easier for yourself.”
“You were giving me an out,” you said as it clicked into place. “Why now?”
“Because by now, you know exactly what you’re getting into by staying. Your choice to work for me is a genuine one.”
“So did I pass? Your test, I mean.”
“We would not be sitting here now if you had failed.”
You weren’t involved in the…bloodier side of Silco’s business, but you weren’t ignorant to it, either. You knew what he did to people he suspected of disloyalty. Would he really have let you go if you’d wanted? Or would you have disappeared into the shadows of the Lanes, never to be heard from again? You wouldn’t be the first. But then you realised that you’d never been afraid of that, because you would never give him a reason to doubt your loyalties. Zaun had to break free of Piltover, and he was the only one with the wits, the resources, and the sheer bloody-mindedness to finally cut the undercity free.
A sudden cold breeze blew in off the river, making the hedges surrounding you tremble, and you became acutely aware that you had left your coat inside. Before you could give yourself the chance to think better of it, you leaned back, and as you’d suspected, Silco didn’t move his arm. He didn’t quite put his arm around you, but he traced a circle on your bare shoulder with the back of his thumb, almost as if he was reluctant to touch you in case he scared you off.
“We can return to the party if you wish,” he said, and now he was near enough for his warm breath on your ear to send shivers along your skin that had nothing to do with the chilled night air.
“I prefer it out here.”
“As do I.” He held his cigar between his teeth as he reached into his coat and produced a small metal hip flask.
You couldn’t help but snort as he uncapped it and the smell of whiskey hit your nose. “You brought your own alcohol?”
He took a swig and then passed the flask to you. “Better than the swill they’re serving in there.”
“That swill is probably very expensive.”
“So is this. Drink.”
You took a small sip and were proud of yourself when you didn’t cough, even though the whiskey was strong enough to make your eyes water. A pleasant warm sensation spread out from your chest as you swallowed, though, and you shivered as you licked a drop off your lip. “Definitely tastes expensive.”
You looked up at him, and Silco’s eyes quickly snapped away from your mouth as he made a vague hum of agreement. For a while neither of you spoke, and you only passed the flask back and forth in companionable silence. The music that drifted towards you on the wind picked up in pace, and you heard the occasional drunken shout in the distance. Still nobody ventured into the dark grounds.
“Earlier I told you that you looked acceptable,” Silco said all of a sudden as he tapped out his half-smoked cigar and put it back in the tin. “I believe I should have told you that you look lovely instead.”
You felt a flush creep up your neck, and you risked a glance up at your boss – who had told you that you would look pretty on his arm, who had trusted you with this mission and had noticed when you slipped off to be alone. Nobody ever did that.
Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe you were delusional or perhaps just stupid. You didn’t really know why you did it, but before you could think better of it, you leaned over and kissed him.
It was only a quick, chaste press of your lips against his, and you instantly regretted it when Silco stayed completely still against you. You jerked backwards, already apologising. “I’m so sorry sir, I shouldn’t—”
You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Silco’s hand was firm on the back of your neck as he pulled you towards him and kissed you. Properly this time. It was your turn to freeze in shock, but you quickly got over it as his tongue danced against yours and you tasted whiskey and smoke. You eagerly let him in as he deepened the kiss, shivering as his hand slid up your leg from your knee to your thigh, and for the first time that night you were glad of your too-short skirt.
You gasped in surprise as he pulled you onto his lap, barely breaking the kiss as he made you straddle him, your skirt riding up as your thighs spread. Feeling bold, you ran your hands through his soft hair, and he hummed in approval as you raked your nails through the short hair at the base of his neck. In response he gave your ass a firm squeeze, grinding you down onto his lap.
And onto the hard length beneath you.
You circled your hips against him as he moved down to your neck, holding you in place with a hand in your hair pulling just tight enough to hurt as he bit more than kissed you, leaving marks that would definitely be impossible to hide in this dress. You couldn’t give a shit. No way were you going back into that stupid party after this.
“Tell me how long you’ve wanted this,” Silco said, emphasising his point with a sharp snap of his hips up against you.
“I—” you started, but you could only focus on his hands creeping up your thighs again. Except this time, they didn’t stop.
“Go on,” he coaxed, as if you were supposed to focus on anything except his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. You hissed as he tugged them down and the cold night air hit your pussy, and it faded into a whimper as he trailed his fingers along your lips, pausing to circle your entrance in a way that made your back arch. “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, sweetheart, because you’re already wet for me.”
“Um…” you tried to focus on anything but the soft, barely-there brush of his fingers against your pussy. Every time you tried to grind against his hand he moved away, keeping his touch just a little too soft, the bastard. “I think – maybe…”
“A few weeks?” he prompted.
“Mm – no…”
He raised an eyebrow, but rewarded your answer by pressing his thumb against your clit, though he still refused to give you what you wanted. Needed.
“Months?”
“Longer. Since… I wanted this since my first day working for you.” Finally, Silco slid one long finger into you as his thumb drew an agonisingly slow circle over your clit, and your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.
“Do you want to know a secret, my lovely?” he said, his fingers moving faster, obscene wet noises filling the air.
“M-hm.”
“I have you beat. I’ve wanted this since I interviewed you.”
Your eyes flew open at his admission just as he sank another finger into you without warning. Later. You could think about what he’d said later. For now you just let yourself enjoy the curl of his long fingers inside you, the expert ministrations of his thumb on your clit that sent waves of warm pleasure up your spine.
Until the bastard stopped.
He withdrew his hand from you, and his fingers glistened in the moonlight from your wetness. Your eyes widened as he licked them clean, then he motioned for you to stand. “Get up. Go and stand at the end of the bench.”
You followed his directions on shaky legs, and Silco followed, casually strolling around to stand behind you. You had a good idea of what he intended. He trailed his fingers up your bare arms, then fisted one hand in your hair while the other held your bicep in a bruising grip. “If you want this to stop,” he purred in your ear, “say the word now.”
You only pushed back against him, feeling his hard length behind you.
“I thought not.” Then he bent you over the arm of the bench, the ornate steel armrest digging into your hips as he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees. You weren’t sure if you shivered with the cool breeze or the anticipation as you heard him unbutton his pants, his hand still in your hair. Then you hissed as you felt the press of his cock against your centre, arched your back as he slid it through your wetness before finally sinking into you as his free hand started playing with your clit once more.
Your voice rose in a high, keening cry as he sheathed himself inside you, easing the ache of his entry with his fingers on your clit. He stopped abruptly, pulling you up by your hair. “Hush now,” he hissed in your ear as he let go of your hair and shoved his fingers in your mouth. You could taste the echo of yourself on his skin. “You don’t want them to think you really are my whore, do you?”
You choked around his fingers for a moment before you relaxed your throat enough that you could shake your head and make a garbled nuh-uh sound, which earned you a low chuckle.
“I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart,” he said as he started to move, setting a quick, urgent pace that reminded you that anybody could come around the corner and see you bent over a bench with the most powerful man in the Undercity driving into you from behind as you gagged on his fingers. Every thrust of his hips ground yours against the metal armrest, and you knew you’d surely have bruises in the morning. “I wish we were somewhere I could fuck you properly. Take you apart piece by piece until you’re nothing more than a writhing, crying mess in my bed. But perhaps you do like the idea of someone seeing you, seeing how well you’re taking me. How wet you are.” His breathing was becoming shallow as he fucked you, but that didn’t stop the stream of filth from his mouth. “I don’t know about you, but I would kill to see the look on Ko Shosu’s face when he realises we used his party to lure his friend into our web and then defiled his rose garden right under his nose.”
He said something else after that too, but you’d stopped listening to his words and let the low, rough cadence of his voice be the final push you needed over that peak you’d been approaching, once interrupted and now higher than ever. Even Silco’s fingers in your mouth weren’t enough to muffle your cries as you came, your thighs shaking from the strain of standing while your walls clamped down on Silco’s cock, over and over again in waves of agonising bliss. He followed soon after, and you felt a warm rush as he spilled himself inside you with a groan he muffled in your neck.
For a moment you both stood there, catching your breath. You sighed in relief as Silco removed his fingers from your mouth, and after tucking himself away he cleaned you up with a handkerchief before pulling your panties back up for you. “You felt just as good as I’d imagined you would,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your abused scalp.
“Is that something you imagined often, sir?” you said teasingly.
“Most nights,” he murmured into your hair. “And perhaps some days, too.”
Well, damn. You had no idea what to say to that, other than, “Me too.” Maybe you had actually drank too much. “Take me home,” you said, leaning back against his chest as he straightened out your skirts. You felt him smile against your hair.
“It would be my absolute pleasure.”
#arcane x reader#silco x reader#silco x you#arcane x you#arcane x female reader#cursedfanfic#ive been dipping in and out of this for months and now im sick of looking at it so here you go lol
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Could you please do a gn! Reader x arcane characters where reader gets drunk at a bar/party and arcane characters take care of them? (Silco, Viktor, jinx, Vander, Caitlin,) :)
Sure, love getting Arcane requests again.
Pairing: Jinx, Caitlyn, Vander, Silco, Viktor x Reader
Tags: fluff, comfort, parties, drinking, cuddles, sweet kisses, headache, teasing, needy!Reader
A/N: I get sleepy so fast after drinking alcohol, maybe I need more tolerance.
Jinx loves a good party, or any excuse to have one. Given her nearly endless energy she can party until morning and she never gets drunk or sick. Well lucky her because you're only human. No Shimmer in your blood.
Good thing that Shimmer also gives her a lot of strength because she had to drag your pretty ass all the way home. Your drunken thank yous are very cute and she will tease you about them in the morning, but for now she will let you sleep this off. She can take a nap next to you but if you get handsy you'll wake up without that hand.
"Down you go sugar. Not that way down, not when you can barely look up at me. How much did you drink anyway? You wanted to match me? You... do realize that amount can kill a normal human right? I love you want to keep up but don't put yourself in danger for my amusement. Seeing you like this is... not fun."
Caitlyn doesn't actually have that much of a tolerance for alcohol, not the hard stuff anyway. Besides she needs to always keep her with about her, even when there's a party going on. It's a habit that she can never let go off, always on alert, never letting her guard down.
This allows her to keep an eye on you, someone who she knows will party pretty hard. You want her to have a good time too so you always try to include her, but as soon as she notices you're going overboard she will pull you aside and up to her bedroom. You stay here for the night, she'll help you sneak out in the morning. In the mean time, maybe some water and something salty would help.
"I can't take my eyes off you can I darling? I never do but especially now. How can I when you're irresistible to me? Yes, even dead drunk, I still find you very cute. Wipe that silly grin of your face will you, before I do it for you. I'm not kissing you while you taste like alcohol!"
Vander has seen many, many people get absolutely wasted in his bar so he knows how to see the signs early. There's no way he's scooping you off the table or the floor while you throw up everywhere, how would that look for him as the owner? It'd get him teased for sure, plus a few laughs ain't worth you getting hurt.
He picks you up in his arms, deciding to pack up for the night, at least for the two of you. Even as you're lowered to the bed you don't let go of his shirt, pulling it off his body until it's on you instead. Now you can sleep, when you have his scent all over you. But in the morning when you wake up you have to fight against a drumming headache as you hear the kids running and laughing through the hallways.
"That's what you get for drinking so much darlin'. I told them to keep it down but you know I can't fully control them. You can sit today out, I'll take care of everything else. Now uh... my shirt please? Why not? I ain't going out there without it. Well maybe we can make a deal hm? A few big kisses for my shirt?"
Silco already has his lackies and his kid to watch out for. So you need to be an adult here, along with... and just a few hours in and you're drunk. Well now he knows where Jinx gets her party encouragement from.
He has to carry you up on his back, all the way to the bed and... you should really let go of him now. There's still people downstairs and he is not letting Sevika be with a drunk Jinx because the last time that happened there was a fire in the bar. But he also doesn't want to leave you... what a dilemma. Will you stay in bed if he gives you a kiss? More then a kiss? Fine, but make it really quick.
"You really need to learn some self-restraint darling. How do you expect to please me when you can't even stand up? Oh I can see you can still use your mouth, but I'm worried you might hurt yourself. How about you lay back and I please you? That should be enough to make you pass out no?"
Viktor doesn't drink a lot, not because he doesn't like it because he doesn't handle it very well most of the time. He needs to be in a really good mood to drink. Most of the time he drinks when he's with you, to loosen up a little and have fun with you.
However he's also the one who ends up patting you on the back when you throw up in the toilet later that night. He told you to slow down, but nope, you had to prove you can drink more then him, which isn't really that hard. You end up cuddling with him all night and mumbling how much you love him and end up telling him he'll make a great husband one day.
"Husband? You're thinking that far into the future my darling? Interesting. I'm guessing you didn't mean to say that right now so I'll be sure to act surprised when you actually ask me to marry you. You want kids too? Any other big secrets? You loving me is no secret."
#arcane x reader#jinx x reader#caitlyn x reader#vander x reader#silco x reader#viktor x reader#league of legends x reader#arcane imagines#arcane headcanon#arcane fluff#league of legends imagine#league of legends headcanons#league of legends fluff#jinx fluff#caityn fluff#vander fluff#silco fluff#viktor fluff#arcane x you#league of legends x you#x reader
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It’s Because:
Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW
cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending
summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc
Silco is not in love.
Unequivocally, categorically not in love.
He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter.
He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive.
Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.
He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway.
There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable.
Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his.
Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder.
He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-
But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees.
In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad.
There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture.
He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead.
Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?
He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart.
But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck.
He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel.
Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love.
#silco x reader#silco x you#silco x gn!reader#silco x f!reader#silco x m!reader#silco#silco fic#silco arcane#one shot
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No Hands - Smut
Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 518
Content Warnings: gn!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), power dynamics, silco being a smug little bastard, but he's also totally going to return the favor so it's fine lolol
Masterlist || AO3 Link
Beta reader: @silcoitus
Art by: @ivyunleashed
“Don’t use your hands.”
You look up at Silco, looking for something that would suggest he’s kidding. He’s certainly not. His smirk is a tell-tale sign of how pleased he is of this particular command, taking pride in making you get a little more creative with your routine.
You have to admit though, the idea is enticing, and you quickly find yourself locking your hands behind your back. You hug your wrists together, fingers tangling at the base of your spine and pulling your shoulders back. Silco’s smirk widens and he follows you with his eyes as you lean forward and bring your teeth over one of the buttons of his pants.
You manage to unclip two of the four buttons, keeping your eyes glued to Silco’s with every surprisingly nimble maneuver of your teeth and lips. He eventually undoes the last two for you, watching you move the flap of his pants out of the way and drag his boxers down with your teeth.
His cock springs free and he pushes his pants further down to reveal heavy balls that beg for your tongue’s lavish attention. You lick a long stripe up from his sack to the tip of him, relishing the quivering sigh that escapes him as you do.
“Good girl,” Silco hums, tangling one set of fingers into your hair. He doesn’t push you, only following your lead and praising you all the while. His other arm is still languidly laid out over the back of the sofa, his head following suit and tipping backwards as you take him into your mouth.
Your head bobs a patient rhythm and Silco is undeniably content with it, sighing and grunting your name like a dirty-sweet prayer. His fingers tangle harder, pulling slightly, and you brace yourself as his hips begin to rut up into your mouth.
The tip of him slides smooth over your tongue and your fingers wring together behind your back, itching to relieve the ache between your legs.
“Doing so well for me,” Silco grunts, his ragged voice making that ache worse as you feel the wetness growing. You moan around Silco’s cock and he looks down at you, pupils blown wide and hair hanging in his face. What was parted lips becomes a shit-eating grin as Silco approaches his orgasm.
“Hands still behind your back?” he hums, voice breathless but not missing that sinister growl, “I’ll repay you very kindly for this, sweetheart.”
You think your core might explode with every needy throb you feel, begging for some kind of stimulation, but you steel yourself and instead focus on the hollow of your cheeks, the work of your tongue, and the hum of your muffled whimpers around his cock.
Silco’s chest swells with a sudden breath, your only warning before he’s coming down your throat, throbbing and groaning with every wave of his orgasm.
Fingers loosen their grip on your hair, letting you pull off of him and swallow each drop of his release.
Silco watches you, panting, a coy promise painted clear on his face.
“Come here and let me taste you.”
#silco#arcane#arcane silco#silco arcane#silco x reader#silco x you#smut#mdni#lilith writes#medic-simp
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Pushed
Silco x fem!Reader
Synopsis: don’t test the hand that gives you pleasure
Warnings: Explicit, nsfw, MDNI
A/N: Silco’s hands hnnnngggg
The whole room swayed as the air around your head became heavy and intoxicated. You weren’t drunk. No, not at all.
It was the way his slippery tongue dragged along the edge of your mouth that stifled your moans reverberating against the large hand snaring your larynx. Fingers dimpled the skin they gripped as the man in front of your, now flush against your chest, a hand between your shoulder blades, pushed you backwards with his hips
Pinched skin jolted your senses when the edge of Silco’s desk rammed the back of your thighs. Angry, your bit hard at the rat man’s lip earning the hand occupying your throat, controlling your breath, a rough press and squeeze of your windpipe. His other hand came down and clamped the underside of your ass, bending your leg sharply, and tilted his pelvis inwards towards your heat then quickly retreated.
An audible whine rolled through your chest as you craved the feeling of his bulge against your sopping mess below just once more.
The Eye of Zaun’s sneered into your mouth.
He was in control and you knew better.
The force of the painful grip on your leg led you to slip the rest of your rear onto the desk behind you which allowed Silco’s midriff to spread your leg apart as he pinned you flat beneath his weight.
"You really want to do this here?" he taunted with a smug satisfactory smirk when he rolled his bulge into your throbbing cunt again, edging another moan from you.
Leaning up on hands on either side of your face, he hovered and eyed your panting chest, breasts peeking forward, before he clutched the fabric and ripped open your shirt with a loud tear, buttons popping and jumping everywhere.
He then shoved a breast out of your bra and lapped at the nipple, its peak dragging along the rough texture of his tongue making your spine lurch backwards in an arch.
Air moves swiftly with a whoosh as the office door swings open unexpectedly.
It was Sevika.
Her mouth dropped open wordlessly while her eyes darted between the coupled bodies on her boss’s desk, his mouth midway pleasuring his mistress’s nipple. Silco pulled away and stood up straight, hips still pinning you to the desk. Neck stretching, you peer at Sevika’s upside-down figure currently taking up most of the door’s threshold, then smiled.
Then your mind thought of the most brutal way to get back at Silco.
A hand climbed slowly up Silco’s waistcoat, buttons pressed sideways and moved around beneath your palm snaking up the length of his torso. Then, with a swirl of your wrist, his tie entangled your hand and was used to hoist yourself even along his lean frame. Silco was firm in his place, acting unfazed, but you could feel his breath hasten against your breasts.
“Is there anything you—“
“Uh, no, I, Uh,” Sevika couldn’t peel her eyes away as you kissed Silco’s neck, the sloppy wetness could be deliberately heard as your mouth claimed wherever it desired.
One hand idly wondered down his backside…
“Well, if you don’t require any AH—ssistance!”
…only to land a blow to his ass cheek.
A smug grin pulled your face tightly. You win.
You heard Sevika mumble something, then came a hard thud from the door behind.
The air was knocked from your lungs as Silco’s hands forced you down and claimed your wrists. He clutched your wrists together with an iron grip then transferred to only one hand just when the other disappeared out of sight.
You mewled and bit your lip when you felt his fingers slip below your underwear and cup the apex of your heat, intentionally avoiding putting pressure on your clit much to your great pain as you rolled your pelvis into his palm, trying to create the traction your body so badly craved.
Silco steel eyes bore into your own before they squinted as his lip pulled faintly into a wicked grin. His face moved a hair’s length above the shell of your ear, invading your entire body with a low, grainy voice.
"This will be done to you slowly.”
"I won't beg," you challenged.
"Oh?” he chimed, “I'm sure you will eventually. Everyone has their breaking point."
Your breath stuttered briefly then abrupted into loud spasms of pleasure when two fingers curled into your pussy.
#silco#silco x reader#silco x you#silco x y/n#silco x female reader#silco x fem#arcane silco x reader#arcane silco x you#arcane silco x y/n#arcane silco x fem reader#arcane silco x female reader#arcane silco#silco arcane#arcane fanfiction#arcane fanfics#silco fanfiction#silco fanfic#my writing
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Arcane Characters saying I love you Pt2
~ Silco, Sevika, and Vander
A/n sorry this one's a little longer than pt 1, also reblogs are much appreciated✨🫶🏼
word count 1.8k pt 1 here
First time saying i love you pt 2
silco, sevika, vander
Silco~
‘It’s too quiet’ you thought, lounging in Silco's office on the sofa Sevika basically claimed as hers. The silence almost made you nervous mostly because it never was. The atmosphere was always filled with the sound of sevika working on her arm, faint explosions echoing from Jinx's lab, silco’s meetings, jinx yapping about her new inventions or arguing with Sevika, or even fin’s disgusting attempts to flirt with you while you catch Silco and Sevika rolling their eyes over his shoulder. Like clockwork, the tedious silence was broken by Silco barging through the door followed by Sevika.
“She’s a problem and we all know it!” Sevika seethed. You figured that they were either too angry to notice you or too angry to care.
Silco brushed his hair back and turned his head to look over his shoulder. “We?” You wanted to intervene but know that given the fact that 1. they’re both stubborn and 2. Sevika’s stature and gaze alone intimidate the hell out of you, it’d be useless but nonetheless you definitely piece together that it’s about jinx.
“Look,” Sevika took a deep breath, “I know you have a thing for strays and she means a lot to you but she is not your daughter. There is an entire city that relies on you and you’re doing nothing but making excuses for some unhinged kid. Even if you were her father you should know when to keep her in check instead of letting her be a loose cannon and put everything we’ve worked for in jeopardy. If you aren't going to choose between parenting her or acting like her boss, send her to the enforcers.” With that Sevika walked out slamming the door behind her. You definitely understood her anger and everything she was saying but Silco was trying. Granted he could be trying harder but for the life he’s lived he was doing all he could without being cold towards jinx. He COULD turn her in but everything she’s done she was told to do by him, he COULD abandon her and perfect everything he’s built but he knows what it’s like and he’s grown too attached. He was at a loss and you could see it in the ways his shoulders dropped yet looked so tense.
Sighing, Silco finally decides to acknowledge your presence. “Tell me my dear,” he said, hunched over his desk, “what do I do?” You stood up and walked over to him, gently ushering him to face you. It hurt you to see him like this, unraveled by his daughter and right hand. You take his face in your hands and he immediately sinks into your touch with glossy eyes. “Tell me how to parent her. Tell me how to be better.” he begs.
“My heart, you don’t need to be better. You’ve told her countless times to take things more seriously. Her not doing so is entirely on her, not you.” You tried your best to reassure him. “I’d suggest telling her that unless she shapes up she won't be allowed on more serious jobs but knowing her she’d throw a fit and go against you anyways.” Finally Silco cracks a smile and scoffs.
“That does sound like her, suppose my stubbornness has rubbed off on her.” he says, taking your hands in his and staring deeply and lovingly into your eyes.
“So be more stern with her, is what you’re implying?” he stated more so than asked, taking you in his arms. “Mhm.” you hummed.
“I'll give it a try, thank you my dear.”
“Of course, eventually she’ll listen. She just needs to learn that there are reasons why you tell her not to go all out. You’re a great father, you know.” He swears his heart skipped a beat.
“...I love you…” Silco whispers, holding you tighter. “I love you more.”
Sevika~
You and Sevika both work for Silco, you have since the start of his reign, and you both quickly learned how tiring and physically demanding it was. However, some days were worse than others today being a prime example for Sevika at least. You had to take care of some petty thieves in one of Silco’s stash houses that Fin had secretly hired but regardless you got to go home early and are now relaxing in your shared bed. Eventually you dozed off but got woken up by the sound of Sevika opening the bedroom door.
“Oh hey, sorry doll,” she gently kisses your temple. “Didn’t know you went home early.” she mumbles, taking her shoes off and throwing them across the room.
“Yeah because I’m lucky” you say with a smirk. Sevika lazily smacks your thigh earning a giggle as she plops next to you sinking her face into the pillow. “Lucky brat is what you are. Why’d you leave early anyway?”
“I finished my task quickly and was gonna wait for you but Silco said that jinx was with you,” Sevika groans at the name of her tiny nemesis earning a giggle from you. She then turns her head ushering you to go on while she starts caressing your jaw. “And that you’d most likely take a while so he sent me home.” she hummed in response. She didn’t say anything else, continuing to only lay on her stomach with her head turned to you, running her fingers down your jaw then suddenly shutting her eyes and jerking her hand.
“What's wrong? Did you get hurt?” You ask, sitting up immediately inspecting her for injuries noticing how she didn't move at all to calm you down.
“Nothin my backs just sore…” Sevika groaned. You could tell it was more than just her back, it was her shoulder blades and arm. Sighing, you got up and gently started removing her shirt.
“Angel I'm too tir-”
“Get your mind out of the gutter Vika I'm not gonna ravage you I just wanna give you a massage.” She utters a quick ‘oh’ before sliding out of her shirt then resuming her previous position.
“As if you could ever ravage me.” she scoffs. Ignoring her, you grab some lotion from the nightstand and take a seat on her butt. You apply the lotion to your hands before putting some pressure on her lower back deciding you’ll save the problem spots for last. Judging by how tense she is and how she groans you get the idea that she was long overdue for a good massage.
Once you clear all the knots and tension from her lower and mid back you focus your attention on the spot in between her shoulder blades, gently pushing down then dragging your hands around her shoulders hearing various pops, cracks, groans, and moans coming from her. There really isn’t anything you can do about the pain from the arm she no longer has other than press ginger kisses around the area. As she feels your weight shift from her backside to the bed she turns to face you once more, taking you in her arms and engulfing you in a passionate kiss.
“Y’know I'm gonna marry you one day right angel?” she playfully questions.
“Only seems fair,” you start, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already got acting like one.” she smiles, remembering everything you’ve done for her, especially when she lost her arm. You were always right there when she needed you but was too stubborn to ask for help, you were always at her beck and call.
“Oh please, it's ‘cause you love me… and I love you…so much.”
Vander~
You knew that when you started dating Vander that the kids would have to be in your life too and honestly you loved it. You would always bring them gifts like boxing gloves for Vi, trinkets and tools for Mylo and Powder, and snacks for Claggor. Anytime Vander would tell them not to do something they’d immediately run to you begging you to change his mind and sometimes it worked sometimes it didn’t. Today being one of the days it didn’t.
You were relaxing at the empty bar when Vi barged yelling about how something wasn’t fair while Vander trailed her. Vi spotted you and ran to your side.
“Y/n please tell him that we’re ready.” She begged without any context as to what she was talking about.
“What's happening?” you ask, lost as ever.
“Apparently the enforcers are turning the lanes upside down looking for us but this is our chance to fight! We need to stand up to them and now’s as good a time as any.” Vi explained. You assumed vander wasn’t having any of it given the fact that 1. the kids’ safety was everything to him and 2. he had an arrangement with the enforcers.
“There’s too much at risk if we do Violet! You need to stop thinking with these,” Vander says, grabbing her fists. “And start thinking with this!” he then points to her head. “The lanes isn't what it used to be. Yes we all still have the same drive as we did back then, but we’re not in the same shape as we used to be! We lost a lot of good people then and we’d lose even more now.” Violet thinks of her parents which Vander can see in her eyes. “You’ll lose powder, claggor, and Mylo too. We will rise Violet I promise you we will but now is not our time, there's too much at stake.” Vander looks to you for help and so does Vi. You love the kids but this is one thing that Vander would not change his mind about and to be frank you agree with him.
“I'm sorry Vi but he’s right honey” you take her face in your hands trying to get her to see how sincere you are. “A shadow of the lanes would be all that’s left. And I don’t wanna lose you guys.”
“...fine.” Violet mumbles before running off, leaving you and Vander alone. Vander walks over to you pulling you in for a hug.
“You really care about those kids huh?” He questions.
“Of course I do, I get that they want to fight but I wish she would see how badly this would end for us. It would end in a fiery blaze with everyone we love slaughtered.” You notice some blue hair peeking out from behind the wall and instantly know who it is.
“You can come out Powpow, is everything okay?” Vander turns around to face her as she takes a few steps towards you. She looked really sad, her eyes were puffy and she was holding what looked like a stuffed bunny. Vander stares at it thinking it looked familiar then it hit him.
“Look at me Powder,” he kneels in front of her, gently holding her shoulders. “Where did she go?”
“She said she was going to make things right and that she’d be away for a while.” the little girl sniffles. Vander stands up immediately and walks to you.
“I need you to stay here with the kids. I need to go get Violet.” he leans down and kisses you deeply before pulling away to head towards the door.
“I love you.”
#arcane#arcane league of legends#lesbian#violet arcane#vander arcane#vi arcane#jinx arcane#silco arcane#silco#silco x reader#silco x you#sevika x female reader#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#vander x reader#arcane fluff#fluff#sevika fluff#silco fluff#vander fluff#arcane women#arcane men
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Penance IX (redux)
Priest!Silco x Fem!Reader AU (nsfw)
A/N: Its my birthday! Last year everyone in this fandom and all the friends I have made because of it made today one of the most special birthdays I have had in a long time. I felt more loved and surrounded in celebration with sweet friends then I had in years, and the cup of that happiness has not stopped running over. There are not enough ways to express my love and gratitude for everyone I've had the joy of meeting here.
So this year, I wanted to offer a gift to all of you. Everyone has been exceedingly patient about my writing struggles to continue Penance, so I'd like to give you the alternate Penance XI chapter- blood I have managed to wring from that stone of writers block. The fate of the continuation of this story may still be up in the air until inspiration comes knocking again, but at least I can share this with you today.
To all my fandom friends, and everyone who has been so supportive of this silly little smutty story. You have my heart.
This picks up after Chapter VIII
“Girl, are you listening?”
Sister Marta’s sharply scolding voice brought you back down to earth with a little jerk, blinking as you turned attention back to the tall, thin, sallow faced nun to meet the exasperated gaze of her cataract-hazed grey eyes.
“Sorry Sister.” You mumbled, casting about for a context clue of whatever it was she might have been speaking about while you’d been off daydreaming about the priest of her parish. Nothing jumped out at you in the dusty old store room of the basement where you both stood in the dim light of one naked and straining lightbulb still swinging gently upon its cord from the nun’s yank of its chain a moment before.
You hadn’t meant to drift off, but it had been four days since you’d seen Father Silco last and that painful, sweet contrition you’d done across the desk of his office was still fresh in your mind as if it had just happened.�� You ought to have been angry at the fact he’d left you such an unsatisfied mess, and the fact he’d spanked you like a wicked child, in spite of his promise he’d never hurt you as they had back in school.
Truly, he had not. Those sharp little slaps of his open hand were nothing compared to the cruelty of a sharp ruler across knuckles or the backs of thighs delivered by an angry, bitter nun. You smiled faintly at Sister Marta’s increasingly irritated, withered old face and privately thought perhaps she could teach the Father a few things about corporal punishment.
“The candles, girl!” Sister Marta exhorted at last, the thin limit of her patience snapping.
Unlike the ‘my child’ diminutive that the other nuns like Sister Eleanor or Sister Angelica were so fond of using with you and other parishioners, Sister Marta had no use for any such hollow faithful endearments. You hadn’t yet made up your mind if it was an honest gruffness about her you liked, or an insulting mein you did not. You had the notion it would have hardly mattered to the old woman either way.
She nudged one of the pair of low boxes with the toe of her sensible black shoe from under her long, dark habit.
“Take them to the Father to be blessed and then kindly refill the votive stands. You can remove the spent ones and toss them.” She explained, slower this time as if she was speaking to a simpleton.
You bore it with a tight little smile and bent to lift the box on top, surprised by the weight of it, staggering a bit upon rising only to catch a smugly satisfied look on the wrinkled old pucker of a face before Sister Marta reached up to pull the chain of the light and leave you to struggle out the door of the closet and back up the rickety old stairs of the basement in the dark, save for the light from the open door at the top of the steps.
Quietly you wondered if you accidentally fell and broke your neck, if the church would have their endowment free of the burden of your presence that came with it.
Cold comfort, knowing you’d crush the brittle bird-boned old woman climbing up, wheezing softly behind you, and take her with you if you did pitch backward down the steps.
The real trial wasn’t making it to the top of the stairs with the heavy box full of candles, though. No, that one still lay ahead once you’d reached the top without incident. The real trial lay in taking that armload into the rectory to face Father Silco once more and ask his blessing.
You’d thought you’d be safe if you came on a Thursday. You’d avoided the parish planning committee on Monday, as well as your usual Wednesday session with the Father. You’d hardly doubted you’d be missed at the planning meeting, and Wednesday, well. You’d chosen to skip it half in a little act of spite, half just to see what might happen. When no scolding phone call or visit had been forthcoming after shirking both of those commitments the victory felt hollow.
Turning up to make yourself useful to the nuns on Thursday seemed like a good way to cover for your failed gambit and to keep from looking as if you were avoiding the church. Foolishly, you’d thought perhaps you’d manage to skim by with just catching a glimpse of Father Silco in passing.
Unsure if it was because you wanted to see him, or wanted him to see you.
You’d been on rocky footing ever since your little transgression in the confessional, and you knew it.
The door to the rectory lay open just across from the basement door in the open nave of the large narthex, and you waited until Sister Marta crested the steps behind you and shut the basement door to hobble off heavily upon her cane, before you started the slow walk toward his office. You didn’t let yourself hesitate in the doorway, and didn’t have a free hand to knock on the open door with anyway. Instead, summoning all the calm composure you could muster, you simply walked in and paused before his desk.
He sat there, scribbling away in an open book, papers and letters and other books opened in a slightly scattered mess about his work, dark head bent and eyepatch on. He left you standing there until he’d finished what he was writing. Until your elbows and wrists had begun to ache a little from the weight of the box you held. Only then he sat back, letting his pen drop upon the desk as elbows found the armrests of his tall-backed chair and he turned the cool glint of that duplicitously calm ocean colored eye upward.
The thin, scarred cut of his mouth tugged a hint of a smile at one corner.
“Lamb.” He stated mildly, as if unsurprised in the least to see you there and only half interested as to what you might want with him.
Infuriating, how badly you liked hearing that little endearment again. How flustered it made you feel to get hooked on the edge of that smile.
The box shifted heavily in your hands as you juggled its weight and stepped forward to set it upon his desk. Damn his paperwork.
“Sister Marta asked if you’d bless these candles so I could put them in the votive holders.” Your attempt to keep your voice as even and disaffected as possible only resulted in it coming out far softer than you’d meant for it to be.
Leaning forward a touch, Silco flipped one of the flaps of the cardboard lid back to glance at the candles inside with a little hum. One by one he folded each of the other three flaps back and rose to his feet. Elegant fingers stroked absently along the edge of one packaging dividers hashed between the votives within before he plucked a single candle out and set it aside.
Letting that cool eye of his drift shut he made the sign of the cross over the open box of remaining candles before opening both hands before himself, palms cupped upward.
“Lord Jesus Christ, true light that enlightens every man who comes into this world, bestow thy blessing upon these candles, and sanctify them with the light of thy grace. As these tapers burn with visible fire and dispel the darkness of night, so may our hearts with the help of thy grace be enlightened by the invisible fire of the splendor of the Holy Ghost, and may be free from all blindness of sin.”
His eye opened and fell upon you, and suddenly you were profoundly aware of how you just stood there, staring at the tall, lean lines of him in that dark cassock, soaking in the sound of his voice and very obviously not with your hands folded in reverent prayer or eyes downcast as they ought to have been. Something entirely ungodly flickered at the edge of Father Silco’s mouth as he continued on, holding your immobilized gaze.
“Clarify the eyes of our minds that we may see what is pleasing to thee and conducive to our salvation. After the dark perils of this life let us be worthy to reach the eternal light.” His eye closed once more and again he made the sign of the cross over the box as he finished, “Through thee, Jesus Christ, Savior of the world, who in perfect Trinity livest and reignest, God, for ever and ever. Amen.”
His hands lowered, one coming to settle over the glass edge of the candle he’d set to one side, and he considered you as you crossed yourself hastily and reached forward to gather the box back up again. He stopped you lifting it with a touch of the fingertips to its lid.
“When you are through with these, perhaps you’d come back here?” Couched so carefully as a question, yet all you could hear was the quiet order in it. Come back here. Your head was nodding before he even finished speaking and the thin, dark brow not covered by his eyepatch quirked slightly.
“Yes, Father.” Your correction of yourself came nearly automatically.
Another little humming assent and with a slow blink he removed the touch that had stopped you lifting the box, resuming his seat. You hoped he’d resume his work as well, but instead he sat there, watching you go, fingertips drumming thoughtfully upon the little glass votive.
You took your time with the candles, mostly because your hands were shaking and the very last thing you wanted to do was drop one of the blessed things and have it shatter across the church floor. But also, to give you time to scrape yourself together, collect calm and poise. It was no good, heart hammering anticipation equal parts nervousness and excitement. The part of yourself that had wanted so badly to keep up this little charade of wishing to avoid him had succumbed without so much as a whimper.
Again thoughts drifted back to Sunday. To the stinging warmth of skin under his hand, to how he’d teased you to a sodden mess without once slipping fingers beneath the barrier of cotton that had separated you. To how he’d left you wanting and writhing and nearly in tears. A perfect act of contrition, indeed.
It was a struggle not to let yourself wonder what next punishment he could possibly have in store for you.
Spent votives replaced with fresh ones, and the box filled with the clatter of the empty candleholders, you made your way back to his office. Dropping the detritus of other people’s prayers off in the dumpster out back could wait. You had your own worship to attend to.
Father Silco’s desk was far less littered with papers when you returned, open books stacked neatly to one side now and everything else put away save for the book he was still writing in. And that little candle he’d taken. His dark head didn’t even lift as you set the softly clattering box down upon the settee against the wall.
“Office hours are over.” He intoned flatly as you wiped palms nervously over the skirt of the dress covering your thighs.
It froze you, cold like ice water suddenly filling the pit of your belly. Had he just dismissed you after ordering you to return?
“...Father?” It came out a strangled little question and you almost hated how needy the note of your voice made that singular word.
He glanced up and you realized with a start that he’d removed that eyepatch, the hellish orange-red fire of his darkened eye a constant little shock every single time. Ruined eye and teal flicked from you to the door and back again as if in blatant explanation.
“Lock the door.” He elaborated.
It should not have been a matter of pride that you managed to turn and do his bidding without falling all over yourself or scrambling in an embarrassing rush of eagerness, and yet. Far more collected than you felt within, you managed to push the door shut soundlessly and throw the latch, pausing for a moment with your back to him, safely sheltered in the little alcove of the doorway, to breathe through the easing of that sudden cold panic that had surfaced at your earlier misunderstanding.
When you returned to him he’d shut his notebook and set it aside atop the others, and reached to slide that pilfered votive candle before himself as he watched you sidle up to his desk. Watched you stop, smooth the skirt of your dress only to fist it again in fitful hands, watched the tight little press of thighs as he drew out the silence.
“Do you know what these are called?” He asked, nudging the little candle forward with the press of one elegant fingertip before rising from his seat.
“Devotionaries.” You answered, and watched him cross to the wall to the right of you, to a tall coat stand that stood near the door to his quarters.
“Very good.”
A child could have answered that question, but it did not stop the little smile of pleasure that tugged at the corners of your mouth. His praise as euphoric as a drug and twice as addictive, even for the smallest of successes.
Your mouth went dry however, as he turned profile to you, tugged a button or two open upon the throat of his cassock, and then turned his back to undo the rest before shrugging out of the long, dark cloth to hang it upon the coat stand. The black fabric fell in a long and shapeless mass without him, hem puddling ever so slightly on the floor.
It put you in mind of Peter Pan hanging up his shadow, or it would have done, had you not been so preoccupied with the shape of him divested of the dark habit. Of that petulant posture and taut lovely lines, proud set of shoulders and careless, dangerous beauty in how he moved. It was patently unfair that a man sporting licks of sliver at his temples and etched crows feet at the outset edges of his eye should have the lithe shape of youth the way he did.
Devoid of the cassock, he was left instead in the black roman-collared linen shirt and dark, sharply pleated trousers he wore beneath.
He turned back to you and came wandering back toward the desk, unbuttoning the cuffs at his wrists.
“Do you have a lighter?” The question was so casual it caught you off guard and you had to shake your head, tugging at the pocketless skirt of your dress on either side of thighs by way of explanation.
His mouth twisted the merest fraction of a smile as he tucked the cuff of one of his sleeves back, began rolling it neatly toward his elbow. Lean hips turned a fraction as he stepped closer.
“Left pocket.” He instructed, helpfully.
Hesitation grasped you but a moment before you inched forward, stepped into his space and paused. Glancing upward, you found his attention fixed upon meticulously still folding his sleeves back, crisp turn by turn. The focus of those mismatched eyes not even flickering to you, to how every fine hair upon your bare arms stood on end like they were aching toward him, toward that magnetic draw of snapping static thrumming in the air between you both.
Easing half behind him, you reached for the little gap of the pocket and slowly slid fingers into the warmth of its silken confines. Over the bone of his hip and down, wrist deep until you hit the bottom of the pocket and touched the smooth, rectangular shape of the lighter within. Metal heated to body temperature from where it nestled.
Fingers curled around it before you stopped. Let it go, and moved just a little closer, pressed fingers flat to that join between hip and thigh his pocket lay against. Pushed the delve of that pocket just a little deeper and felt his stomach tense beneath your fingertips as your cheek brushed the outside of his upper arm.
“The lighter, lamb. If you please.” His tone was darkly amused at least, though if you kept pushing your luck it would be at your own cost. That much was clear.
You scooped up the lighter once more, but withdrew your hand slow, knuckles grazing softly along the cut of muscle you could feel running from his hip inward and down. Air felt unwelcomely cold against your skin once you pulled your hand free, and before you could step back, he moved away for you. Walked away to resume his seat behind the desk as he finished doing up his other cuff to just below his right elbow.
A small push of his foot made space between the seat and the desk, and you only needed the flick of his eyes from you to the room he’d made to set you in motion to come and stand before him, his lighter clenched tight in your closed fist, unwilling to relinquish the little bit of his heat you held in your palm.
Gazing up at you, his attention licked over the details of your dress, your posture, your hesitant composure, as he tugged at the give of trousers a little at the bend of thigh and hip and settled himself more comfortably.
“You weren’t here yesterday.” He observed as he relaxed back against the tall chair, a flicker of a blink over that oceanic eye. You held your tongue and his gaze fell to the candle upon the desk just beside where you stood, and you wondered if your absence had made him angry, filled him with regret, or perhaps just left him lonesome. You wished there was a way to tell, any little crack in that stoic mask of scarred features and sharpness to let the truth of what he was thinking seep out. Nothing there though but that calculating, penetrating gaze and a subtle shrug of broad, lean shoulders, “I suppose we might make up for lost time, then. Contrition may be an important facet of faith, but so is devotion.”
He reached forward to scoop into fingers the loose end of the bow that tied the wrap of your dress shut beside your waist. His good eye narrowed, the fine lines of crowsfoot deepening. He’d seen that dress before, yes– the same one you’d worn to catch him by surprise in the confessional.
You allowed yourself the most innocent little smile you could manage when those mismatched eyes flicked sharply to your face, and willed breath to stay even, slow, no matter how skin had begun to sing his name in soft coursing waves of prickling goosebumps.
“I don’t suppose you have your rosary?” He asked archly, letting the ribbon of the bow drop from his open hand as he sat back once more.
He’d every right to ask it of you so dryly, given your lack of pockets. And you had every right to feel as smug as you did when you lifted a hand, reached into the low, criss-crossed neckline of your dress and drew out the strand of little purple beads from the nestle of your bra.
The war between shock, dark delight, the struggle to keep his poker face, and perhaps even a hint of righteous outrage that overtook the sharply handsome ruin of his features was nothing short of spectacular. You’d replay it, over and over again at night. Reveling in how well you toppled the high and mighty cold ivory pillar he so often perched upon.
Out and out you drew the beads until the little cross popped free and the rosary hung, swinging, upon your forefinger.
His hand, resting upon his knee, tightened, fingers twitching slightly, before it stilled, then lifted, palm open in demand.
You dropped that little holy object into his hand and watched his fist close around it, knowing full well he now held a little piece of your heat as surely as you held his within your other hand. There was a slight softening to the creases where thin brows met over that sharp nose that told you he felt it, too.
“Good girl.” He murmured, and the flush that crept up to warm your ears was nearly as delicious as the thrill that both chased up your spine and tugged at the backs of your knees to fold, to kneel. You rested the heel of your palm upon the desk behind you and let it take your weight so that you did not cave.
By the time he turned his face back up to you he’d mastered his expression once more, beatific calm singed at its hard edges.
“Turn around,” He instructed, making the simple order sound heavy, dangerous. Bringing thighs together from their slight sprawl, he patted the top of one, “Have a seat.”
Heart thudded hard in your ears as you did as you were bade, turning to sink onto his lap carefully, perched upon his knees. He sucked chipped teeth softly at it.
“Have a seat,” That grit velvet voice scolded gently from behind you as both his hands curled about your waist and urged you backward, until you sat comfortably fully upon him, back fitted to his front.
A hand upon your hip skimmed over stomach and waist, back to the bow of your dress.
“Why do we say devotions?” He asked, and you could feel the question purring through his chest against your back as he claimed the thick ribbon of the bow and tugged. The knot gave with no resistance, and the part of it he held served nicely to pull the cross of your dress open, just enough to part the skirt of it and leave you bare from stomach to thighs.
The shudder that overtook you was sweet and slow, wringing from core to limbs, leaving a little shivering tingle rising over scalp and curling toes, that familiar little throbbing ache back with a hot and hungry vengeance. Hips shifted in your seat as his fingertips ghosted skin to part fabric and push it aside, leaving your lower half bare save for the dark, smooth satin of underwear in the same shade of inky black as his habit.
“To remember the dead?” You chanced, feeling halfway there yourself, pulse racing erratically.
“Sometimes,” He agreed, and you swore you felt the whisper of scarred lips at your neck. Certainly felt the wash of warm breath plume over skin, “More generally devotions are an act of prayer or private worship. Remembrance is one act, as are service, reflection, beseeching, prostration… your rosary, for example, is considered a devotion.”
His hands slid along your arms, touch warm, bringing your hands together to press in prayer before he began to wind the beaded strings around your wrists again to bind them together.
“I thought that was a penance.” You exhaled in a shuddering little rasp.
“It can be, but not today.” The tip of his sharp nose drew a long, slow line against the rise of your spine, above the neckline of your dress between shoulder blades and to the base of your skull, “although that can be a devotion too.”
The heel of his foot caught the floor and pulled the seat with you both in it forward towards his desk, so that he could reach around you and lift the candle from where it sat before pushing you both back again. He held the votive before you.
“Light it,” he asked, free arm curling about you, fingers trailing the soft of your stomach from navel on down, “I owe you a devotion, lamb.”
Fingers bound in prayer fumbled with the thick golden rectangle of the lighter as you struggled not to simply sink back against him with a little shiver and beg that he stroke that little path across vulnerable skin once more. A flick of your thumb sent the hinged lid open and the circular little flint struck on the second attempt, hot flame bursting to life. Silco turned the candle so that you could light it and then pulled it away as you flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back between folded hands.
“Do you know the devotional prayer?” He asked, hand holding the candle coming to settle upon an armrest as his lap shifted beneath you, lean legs pressing together beneath your own and lifting before spreading wide, the hook of his knees beneath your thighs opening them in an indecent slow splay.
It set you writhing; the kissing chill of the air of the room contrasting sharply with the heat of him beneath you, so very bare, bound in his lap, spread open like an invitation. The door was locked, yes, you’d made sure of it but what if you were wrong? What if someone had a key? There’d be no explanation for the position you found yourself in, no way to hide.
The thrill of that little licking fear warred with the light caress of his free hand as it curled over the top of one thigh and smoothed toward your knee, only to hook it better in its drape over his own before it began the slow teasing, lazy circles that drew it back toward the little throbbing want hidden beneath the black satin gusset of thin panties.
“Bare legs.” He murmured, and you gave another little squirm, folded hands pressing together tighter. You’d not worn what you were coming to suspect was his favorite item of your clothing because you’d not expected to see him, and also to spite him if you did. The move seemed to have backfired spectacularly. When you had no excuse or answer, Father Silco simply carried on, a note of pleased amusement in his tone, “The prayer?”
“N-no. That is, no I don’t know it.”
“Hmn.” His little hum of disapproval at the gaps still existing in your liturgical knowledge colored your cheeks, and you could only hope that from his position he could not see the frustration that joined the embarrassment upon your face.
You watched him lift the candle slowly from where he’d held it at your side, bring it to hover over your open lap. His hand upon your thigh stilled its toying little strokes and instead closed in a taut grip of your leg, soft skin denting tenderly beneath his fingers.
“That’s alright,” he reassured you quietly, and you could hear the dark little smile in it, “This is my devotion anyhow.”
The flickering little candle he held hovering before you began to tilt, turn, and the inward gasp of breath caught in your throat as the clear melted wax welled at the lip of the red glass before spilling over, heat spattering in a little drip against the sensitive skin of your knee.
He paused, and you could feel him shift under your restless hips, feel the little roll of his own and the way his breath strained ever so slightly for just a moment.
“Does that hurt?” Low and velvet that voice mumbled up against the skin behind the fold of your ear and again he tipped a little burning drop of wax onto waiting skin.
Your knee jumped the barest fraction, reflexive little jerk at the soft scalding that faded quickly into gentle warmth, and you nodded, folded hands pressing the knuckles of forefingers tight to your lips.
“A little.” You breathed, raggedly.
“Enough to stop?” He pressed, and the soft moan of a sigh that broke from you when the warmth of his mouth touched to the hard thrum of your pulse answered well enough for you before your shattered little ‘no’ eked out.
His fingers had strayed far up the leg they’d been casually toying across, toward the heat that he had to feel absolutely radiating from the apex of thighs. One long forefinger drew a tracing line around the triangle of slippery black satin, up both edges and across your lower stomach slowly.
Air seized in your throat as his fingertips plucked at the smooth waistband.
“Lord, may this candle which I light illuminate all my difficulties and decisions.” Silco began, waiting to feel the tension stringing through you begin to ease before he spilled another dollop of wax, and then a second and third a bit further up each time. The soft sting of it had you writhing, the little shock of burning heat fading to a warm tickle as the wax rolled down in heavy drips, cooling against your skin.
Behind you, Silco’s breath caught in a little huff once more, a soft whistle between clenched chipped teeth on the inhale.
“May this candle be a fire,” He continued after a beat, spreading the warm little shocks and sudden pinching stings to the tender inner thigh of your other leg, “that burns away all my pride, selfishness…”
Writhing and shifting, you struggled in his lap, not wanting to escape yet fighting the way every fibre of you recoiled from the spattering searing sting of the wax in a reflexive, uncontrollable urge. Several of these squirming jerks of your hips and the hand teasing at the edge of your panties caught suddenly in a taut cup between your legs as you felt Silco’s own hips give a hard little shove upward.
Stilling breathlessly, he kept you waiting a long moment while he seemed to struggle to master himself, the fingers cupping you picking up an almost absent little up and down stroke over the satin covering the shape of your sex, unerringly finding the cleft between lips.
Cooling wax flexed and tugged at skin as you tried to spread a bit further for him, to press into his touch, scared if you were to beg for more with words that it might stop the tease entirely, as it had the last time he’d had his hand between your thighs. God, how he’d tormented you, brought you so terribly close… Hips rolled hard and slow against him in retaliation as you relived your humiliation.
As if reading your mind, his touch skimmed higher, and fingertips tucked themselves beneath the satin confines of the upper edge of panties, teasing little strokes at skin that tensed and trembled beneath his touch before they began to slip lower, “and all my other sins.”
Wax was flowing freely, dripping to punctuate each word, taking his sweet time as you wriggled and bucked in his lap, swallowing little gasps and hisses as your skin sang.
At least one shift of your hips must have caught him just right because for a moment you could hear him choke on his words, feel him tense beneath you again. Determined to give as good as you got you did it again and felt the rush of his breath fan against your neck.
His free hand tensed where it lay, fingertips so tremulously close to the cleft of lips, and delved to catch a second taut grip over the shape of your bare sex. The sudden hard grasp of naked contact had you spiraling, arching hard back against him. He was hard beneath you, you could feel it, and caught between his hand and that hint of hardness digging into the soft of your bottom you rocked slowly, only to be rewarded with a long pour of hot wax up your thigh that turned the gentle motion of hips to a wild little ride.
“May this candle be a flame,” He continued, and the broken rasp of his voice was nearly, nearly as sweet as the single slow caress of his finger that found the slick part of your folds and pressed between slippery skin to drag upward. Unerringly found the proud, eager little swell of your clit and sent your lower back into a hard strung arch with one little nudge, “that warms my heart and incites me to love.” He concluded, raggedly, and you swore you felt the graze of chipped teeth scrape over your shoulder.
Riding the light touch of his fingertip and behind you, the hard press of his cock through his pants and your open dress, you sprawled redolently back against him, let your neck find a home in a comfortable arch over his shoulder before turning your head, nestling forehead in the hollow of his throat before shifting to tuck a begging little kiss to the sharp of his jaw.
“Amen.” You finished for him, and felt the sting of wax hit your hip and then your stomach that made you hiss and buck hips once more. Your reward a groan of breath from him and another lingering stroke of his fingertips through soaked folds to flick caressingly at the sweet throbbing ache of your clit.
How long, how many bitter nights now had you wished for this, how many feverish and filthy dreams had you endured, just longing to feel his bare touch? It had become so much worse after your last meeting, all that sharp longing redoubled after his heartless punishing teasing.
No more, no more thin cotton or sheer lace or anything at all between his touch and you. The heat of his hand was nothing to the splashes of searing wax you’d endured, yet it was so much sweeter. That little flicking touch came ghosting over the sensitive little nub of your clit and you writhed unashamedly, trying every which way to force his touch more, closer, deeper.
The prayer was far too short for your liking. What good were hollow words meant to convey something as strong and fervent an ideal as devotion if they were over in mere minutes? Grumbling a little whinging protest you pushed back against him with a hard roll of hips.
“Father…” You objected, voice cracked with pleading.
“Who?” The grit dark velvet of his voice asked at your ear, delighted and tormented as the devil himself.
“Daddy.” The word was out before you could even think it, like it teetered perpetually on the edge of your teeth ever since the first time he prised it out of you, “P-please, please, daddy…”
The sharp blade of his nose shoved hard behind your ear, his ragged breathing a hushed tickling whuffle from narrow nostrils, and any further pleading you were on the verge of was stifled with a squealed little gasp as he spread the sodden petals of your pussy with the splay of three fingers, and the center one of those long, elegant digits found its way down between slicking folds, delving deep into the welcoming clenching grip of your want… only to withdraw his entire hand in a long, slow drag, tracing a line of accusatory wet all the way up to the dip of your navel.
It left you sobbing tearlessly, gasping and gulping and lifting hips in a wordless eagerness that only earned you another splattering of scalding wax across the strain of thighs.
Father Silco ignored your plight as steadfastly as any man of the cloth could ignore temptation, and began a new prayer.
“Earnestly I seek you;
I thirst for you,
my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land
where there is no water.”
The psalm he recited washed over you like a slow caress while you squirmed fitfully on his lap and watched his hand lift, middle finger glossed to its base with your wet. Vanishing in your periphery, the sound of him sucking that long digit thoughtfully clean acted perfect punctuation to the sacrilege of his misappropriated prayer.
Guilt spiced the edge of half-denied pleasure and soft pain. As his hand slid back down your skin and toward the clenching, shivering yearning of your core, you’d never felt so debased, so deeply wicked and wrong. Burning wax hit your thigh once more in heavy, rolling drops and you arched, straining, hissing between clenched teeth; become more serpent in the garden of Eden than Eve.
“I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.”
He teased the upper edge of soaked panties once more, tracing the pucker of their hem, slipping fingertips just beneath them, savoring the softness of skin and the way the taut of your stomach quivered beneath his touch. Desire welled like a dark stone filling your throat, heart coated in the sticky sap of filthy blasphemous sin as his scarred mouth tickled at the hook of your jaw and tender line of your throat. This was wrong, so wrong, so deliciously perfectly throbbingly wrong.
Heat flooded your face as you crushed the press of prayer folded hands to your forehead, eyes shut tight against the rushing high of mortifying lust. Forbidden, taboo, illicit; whatever you wanted to call that gut-deep and undisputed knowledge that this was unforgivably wrong, it excited you in a way nothing else ever had.
He could see it in you, you knew he could. He saw how horrible your deepest darkest thoughts could be and he just kept dragging them out into the light, smiling as he let you dirty yourself with the honesty of your predilections.
The line of his arm tightened against your side as he reached to slip fingers back into your heat, another lazy circling tease to against clit that left you wrung out and breathless before he delved back inside of you and let you ride the slow pumping slide of one long finger.
“I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.”
Your head rocked as he butted his forehead gently to your temple, words a warm, seeping whisper at your cheek, that stern, gravel worn seduction of his voice undoing you, taking you apart at the seams until you felt sure you’d fall open there in his lap like a ragdoll with the sin-like sawdust spilled out.
Inside of you, he was inside of you- and just that knowledge, just the wretchedly wonderful wrongness of it made the whole of you jerk in a taut little shiver of surrender. That slender artful finger kept up its torment like he had no notion of your mortal struggle; curling, thrusting, buried deep. It had you in a tailspin, hips working devoid of conscious thought, all sensation dialed down to the hard, hot, fluttering building to a crescendo within. Greed, gluttony, lust… were they called deadly sins because you felt fit to die if you did not satisfy each one right this moment?
The stinging pain of the wax he kept dripping in erratic little patterns jerked you from the sinking, seeping pit of ecstatic bliss over and over again, a cruel and wonderful see-saw that kept you gripping white-knuckled on the sharp edge of insensible pleasure.
“On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
I cling to you;
your right hand upholds me.”
His right hand was all that stood between you and heaven; the grinding press of the heel of his palm to the throb of your clit, the smooth slow fucking his single finger was giving you, all of it an overwhelming agony of delight but just shy of what you needed to crest the rising wave of tense bliss he was intent on drowning you with.
Head tossed back, you groaned that little, broken, sordid version of his holy title once more, hands bound at the wrists with your rosary clenched in fervent prayer to your chest that he’d let you come, please God just let you come...
And with that one word, beneath you Father Silco went suddenly still and rigid, something like a strangled gasp caught in his throat as hips pinned under your writhing ones jerked their own stilted thrust upward… and held for a long and breathless moment before you felt him sag with a rushing, panting release. His hand cupped to you had gone quite still, and you could feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest against your back.
Had he… had he just…? You shifted hips experimentally and heard him hiss a wordless scolding as his hand gripped the shape of your pussy hard. Stilling obediently, you had to struggle not to smile sinful bliss.
Just a little touch of you combined with the friction of your hips working in his lap and he’d cum those dark, well tailored pants of his.
In spite of being robbed of your own relief, for the moment you felt nothing but powerful, smug and heady with the evidence of how your infatuation was not one-sided, just as you had in the confessional, and it made you foolishly proud.
Proud, right up to the point when he withdrew his finger from within you and in the space of a half second, just before your mouth could open in complaint, caught a little pinch of your clit between thumb and middle finger only to assault that overstimulated cluster of slick nerves with his forefinger in such lashing that you pitched clean into the waiting arms of your release.
It was hard and fast, unmerciful, the lovely strain nearly ruined by how long he’d kept you waiting and how hard he’d teased you up to it.
“Amen.” He was purring in your ear, voice near drowned out by the hard thrumming pound of blood rushing in your brain. Thighs shivered in their hook over top of his own, gone weak as every ounce of tension bled out of you, leaving you lolling, warmly pliant and sighing devoutness far more fervent than any stale saint could have possibly understood.
There was a little click of glass as he set the remains of the candle back upon his desk and turned your face toward himself where your head lay back upon his shoulder. Fingers traced the curve of your cheek, and when he licked at the open part of your lips the faint taste of yourself mingled with him lingered. Bless me father, for I have sinned.
Profane and perfect, you felt his smile stretch against your mouth.
“Do you doubt my devotion, lamb?” He asked quietly, hands smoothing away the cooled and peeling wax in long strokes that left gently welted and red splotched skin stinging sweetly.
Your head shook infinitesimally, not wanting to break the scant contact of his mouth to your own.
“Do you pray for me, Father?” The urge to know felt crushing, the weight of guilt creeping in to gnaw at the edges of sordid bliss.
“Oh lamb. You’re the only thing I pray for anymore.”
#penance#silco#father silco#priest silco#silco au#arcane au#silco x reader#silco arcane x reader#no y/n#more penance at last! rejoice!#my birthday gift to you
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THIS COULD BE US BUT HE'S DOING EVERYTHING ELSE BUT MEEEEEEEEE
LORD HAVE MERCYYYYYYYYY
#arcane silco#silco arcane#silco#silco simp#i want his manhood#FOR REAL#does he need a sacrifice?#SIGN ME TF UP#MEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW MEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW MEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWW#i prob wouldn't even choke#enjoying it way too much#LMAO#can i rizz you up?#PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#on my hands and knees#on my knees#specifically#silco x you#silco x reader#silco lol#league of legends silco#lol silco#silco smut#silco league of legends#hornyposting#LMFAOOOOOOO#he's so pookie#he's so silly goofy#my little meow meow#oldermen
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Petulance
pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)
AO3
summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.
tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco
word count: 5.4k
adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune
a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!
Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.
An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you.
A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway.
Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him.
Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead.
“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”
A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval.
“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size.
He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.
About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”
You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”
This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”
“She seems pretty cranky tonight.”
“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”
You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten.
“Whatcha doin’?”
So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.
“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey.
You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”
“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?”
For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought.
“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”
The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark.
Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.
Intolerable minx.
By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in.
The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.
“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.
“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”
Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers.
A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully.
Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back.
Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin.
You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you.
Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.
“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.
“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”
You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again.
“Are you drunk?”
“What? No.”
Silence.
“Then what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet.
“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-”
Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.
He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”
Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.
You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.”
Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers.
Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika.
Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.
“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.
“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action.
“Don’t be cheeky.”
Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”
At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.
He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”
He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.
“Are you..asking me to stay?”
He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him.
Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.
He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.
You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.
He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own.
“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively. “What am I going to do with you?”
This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”
“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”
Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.
“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”
Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”
Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”
Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.
Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.
“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?”
You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy.
“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”
“How long what would take?”
The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”
It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.
“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”
Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”
Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”
Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.”
“Silco,” you whine, “please.”
His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him.
“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.”
This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state.
Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.
“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”
Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.
The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.
“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.”
Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.
“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”
A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”
Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Mmm, point taken.”
Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”
“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.
Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.
You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.
“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”
The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper.
You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you.
You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”
“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.
The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”
“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.
Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation.
He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.
He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.
“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans.
"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.
He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.
“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,” His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”
You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva.
Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.
Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.
“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”
His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.
“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”
Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps.
Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.
He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.
“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”
Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly.
“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”
You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”
“Excuse me?”
“What?”
“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”
You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.
“...No?”
Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”
Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”
He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.
“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.”
#silco#silco arcane#arcane silco#arcane#silco x reader#silco x you#silco fanfic#silco fanfiction#bratty reader#simp silco#mdni
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