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insult-2-injury · 2 years

Text

Rematch

Silco x Fem!Reader- NSFW! | MDNI

Warnings: Manhandling, Pretty rough sex, knives, BAMF reader, Fluffy at the End Though :)

I'm not sure what happened but I started this as a short project and then it turned into 5.8k words. I couldn't tell you what went wrong and this will happen again.

This fic was inspired by this amazing and sexy artwork by @wildragon

Link to artwork!

He’s found you.

You know it the second he prowls past the door of the frigid room you huddle inside, smoke trailing down the hallway from the tip of his cigar, the smell of it wrapping you in a taunting familiarity. He’s prolonging it, the search, pulling your nerves taut until you vibrate with a dreadful anticipation.

You wait.

He never misses. Never has. Never latches his bloodhound nose onto a scent and loses his way. He knows you’re in here, tucked back into the shadows.

But your senses are keen, too, and the cigar stench hasn’t faded quite so quickly as you would have wanted.

So, this was it, you think to yourself. The finale.

You know he’s out there, lying in wait. And he knows you know.

You rise, wincing when your knees crack from the prolonged position. No sound from outside, even to your finely tuned ears. Not so much as a breath, no fabric rustling from a position adjustment. Light-footed, you creep your way forward, walking your fingers across the hilt of the knife in your belt, trailing them over the jagged embedded gemstones, worn from his touch and yours.

It was about time you give it back.

Your aim is precise, a sharp whistle puncturing the air from the sheer speed of the weapon as it crosses the doors threshold and embeds into the wall in the hallway, hilt wavering only slightly from impact.

You step to the side and let out a startled breath.

The dreadful fluorescent lighting in the hallway is terribly bright, but the reflection in the knife’s gleam is radiant.

Two eyes stare back at you through the blade, one orange, one a shocking familiar teal widening with something akin to surprise at the sight of his knife before settling into a predatory, furious state.

He’s blocking the entrance in an instant and you trot several steps back, stomach dropping as you prepare yourself for what’s to come.

He stands with his head bowed, slightly hunched, looking all the more like a starved lion, barely restrained from pouncing on his waiting supper.

Your gaze rips away from his scorching eyes and lands on his arms- burgundy striped sleeves rolled up his wiry forearms, one hand propped against the stone wall, the other hanging loose by his side, a shocking amount of blood dripping down from his elbow, down the knobs of his fingers and to the floor.

The cigar hanging loosely from his lips twitches as he gives you something adjacent to a sneer, although there’s little humor in it when paired with the fury outlining every other feature of his face.

“Silco.”

His face doesn’t change, but the hand on the wall clenches into a tight fist, dragging forward, a track of glistening red succeeding the movement.

He takes a step forward and you rear back, knowing how terrified you appear.

Another twitch of his lips, this one taunting, something wild kindling in his eyes as he takes you in, eyes flitting across your worried brows, your heaving chest as you try to quell your pounding heart.

Silco slowly presses into the room, wordless.

“Do- do you remember this place?” you stutter, stumbling your feet over the ratty gym mats littering the floor.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he expertly rolls his cigar over to one side of his mouth.

“You’ll find there’s little I don’t remember.”

His voice is grittier than before, cold and snakelike, and you’re reminded of the time that has elapsed since you’d last spoken.

Your gulp is loud in the stone room, echoing off the walls, providing soundtrack to your dance.

How long have you been playing this game now, half a year? Foiling plans, pulling strings from behind the scenes, going so far as to murder his people. You’d wanted him suffering, you’d wanted him angry, matching him move for move, and now it had culminated in this single moment, where you stand, toes curling over the edge of a dangerous precipice.

“Yes, I remember,” he hums. “What a fitting place you chose to die.”

“I don’t intend to die here.”

He lunges and you burst forward in a mad dash for the exit, but the world predictably spins, and stars splash across the borders of your vision as you’re thrust forward into the wall, one arm twisted behind your back painfully. Your other hand clings uselessly to his thigh, digging into the fabric there as you pant.

Smoke stings the inside of your nostrils and your cheek presses against the chilled stone as you stare wide-eyed at his hand crushing the cigar into the wall right before your nose. Your gaze dips as it falls abandoned to the ground and you gasp when the knife sinks into the wall instead with a sharp thud.

“I had my suspicions it was you from the very start. All your meddling. Making things difficult.” He hisses, pressing you painfully into the wall for emphasis. “Oh, you were always so good at being difficult, weren’t you? Forcing me to bloody my hands just to find you. I do hope you think you’re clever.”

“Please,” you whimper, as pathetic as you can muster. “Don’t hurt me.”

Silco’s tone is ragged, seething as he shoves his nose against your temple, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks each clipped word harshly into it.

“Cut. The. Act.”

You crane your neck but are unable to catch his eye. It’s near impossible to quit the incessant quake that has your muscles rattling against his, but the translation changes drastically as you allow your features to fall into the barely restrained fury just beneath the surface.

“Get off me.”

You attempt to slam your foot down on his insole, but there’s little space for it.

“There she is. Our little actress. Tell me, how’s Vander?” he purrs, a bitter self-satisfaction suffusing his tone. “Do you have him all wrapped around your finger now that I’m gone?”

Something bubbles up inside as you hurriedly turn to press your forehead against the wall, your chest heaving with ill-timed emotion.

Your hand is torn away from the fabric of his pants as he releases the arm behind your back, spins you around, and pins you against the wall again, his bony fingers latching onto your wrists now, blood smearing across the palms of your hands that now frame the space on either side of your head.

And he finds the remnants of laughter on your lips.

“You think I’m working with Vander? I knew you’d changed, Silco. But I didn’t think you’d be stupider.”

You not only hear but feel the rumble in his chest this time.

The vise that tightens painfully around your wrists speaks multitudes as you squirm.

“Careful now, darling,” his face tilts forward tauntingly, lips twitching into a cruel sneer, eyes brimming with lethal promise. “I am a changed man, after all.”

You study him with a daggered glare. Those painful scars you’ve seen only from afar until now. Janna, he used to be so expressive, in his own peculiar way- now so carefully withholding, impassive. But it didn’t take much searching to discern that dark edge clouding his features, steeping into that teal eye.

And that’s the color you remember, hovering above you, taunting, pinning you time and time again to these very gym mats during combat practice, you screeching and clawing like a mad cat beneath him.

All those times he’d bested you, humiliated you in front of the other Children of Zaun. But you’d keep coming back each day, a glutton for punishment, wanting to win so badly, recklessly throwing the first punch, spurred on by that smirk of his, sometimes even taking to the shadows, lying in wait for him to prowl past.

You’d never been one to make friends easily. Still weren’t. You weren’t an easy pill to swallow, but nor was he, and maybe that was what had him allowing your reckless assaults, what had him searching you out after a while, intent on putting you in your place. And oh, how he loved putting people in their place.

But you never stayed put. It wasn’t in your nature.

And that fact alone had pushed the two of you into something you couldn’t quite call a friendship- the tumultuous, spiteful waters too full of a strange tension to be defined as such.

Then he’d disappeared.

“I thought you were dead. For months,” you spit accusingly.

His eyes search yours for a drawn-out moment.

“Perhaps I did die.” He hungrily laps up your outrage as he trails one bloody hand down to your neck, encircling it lightly. “Perhaps you’ve done yourself a great disservice, drawing me into the open like this.”

“Easy really. You never did like a loose end.”

Your derisive laugh is cut off by a single warning squeeze to your throat and you close your eyes against the swell of heat that accompanies it.

You hedge your bets on Silco not killing you, not yet at least.

He is a changed man, yes, but the foundation he’s built upon is still the same. He is the same Silco who hungers for answers like a man perpetually starved- whose immovable, unrelenting nature calls to your own hurricane-like one.

There is still something there of the man you’d become so infatuated with.

At least you hope.

“And what were you hoping to achieve- running about, interfering, engaging in such senseless violence?” he croons.

You open your eyes, steadying yourself in order to dish out an outrageous eyeroll.

“They betrayed you anyhow, the ones I killed,” you say, sounding a little too proud of yourself, and not really answering his question at all. “Dropped you like a hot skillet as soon as money talk started. They would have offed you eventually. With the proper motivation.”

“Mm, out there doing me favors, then,” he mutters, looking unperturbed, thumb brushing lightly across your pulse, as if he isn’t surprised in the least that he has traitors among him. “Such a conniving thing.”

Your lips form a tight line, eyes falling shut again in frustration. He doesn’t get it.

“Look at me,” he commands, voice fatally soft, and you steadfastly disobey, scrunching your nose to emphasize just how little you were willing to relinquish. But your eyes pop wide open on instinct as soon as the hand wrapping a wet necklace around your throat squeezes and holds.

The slight upturn of Silco’s lips is minute, but primitive, nonetheless.

As much as common sense would have you clawing at your desperately contracting windpipe, you fist your free hand tightly in his shirt instead, trying to maintain a challenging glare even as your jaw drops open with unsuccessful breaths.

Even as something ancient and unbidden coils hotly in your abdomen.

“Be that as it may, you’ve pushed me far past the boundaries of my extensive patience.”

He releases abruptly and you reel forward as you greedily heave in oxygen, coughing and sputtering, the crown of your head pressing into his sternum as he allows you to catch your breath.

And as the shooting stars recede from your periphery, you tilt your head up and sneer.

“Good.”

You despise the dark amusement on his face.

“Should’ve just let them kill you,” you spit, reddening face inches from his, wanting, no needing a reaction.

And Silco’s face is unreadable.

“So, that’s why you’re here then? To kill me?” Two hands prop themselves beside your ears as he leans in. “Oh, you’re so close, keep trying.”

“I’m not here to kill you.”

You make as if to close the distance, nose stopping inches from his, a savage smile playing about your lips.

“But I will get what I came here for.”

A single exhale betrays him and the stone next to your head scrapes as his nails subtly dig in. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his gaze flits to your mouth.

“And what would that be?”

“I want a fucking rematch.”

You use the hand fisted in his shirt to propel the other into the unsuspecting softness of his chest.

With a startled grunt, he stumbles backward a half step, eyes narrowing as in one move, you yank the dagger from the wall and narrowly duck to avoid his outstretched arm, crossing to the other side of the room.

After a long, nerve-wracking beat, Silco turns to you, an almost dizzying energy radiating off him as he levels you with a look that contains the same unrestrained fire he prowled in with.

“With my own dagger? Oh, I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

His hawklike gaze catches the cold shudder that walks down your spine before his eyes catch yours again, something dangerously excited igniting there.

All those times he’d bested you, pinned you right here on these mats, his half-hard length pressing into the space between your legs, eyes wild as you utilized anger to shrink from your desire- to run away.

He’s frustrated. And furious, so furious. But you’re sure, absolutely sure now, that he’s taking just as twisted of a delight in this as you are. It has you setting your jaw, twirling the blade tauntingly across your palm.

Your eyes fall to his bloodied hands, staining a dark crimson as they dry.

“To be fair, I did try to give it back.”

“Oh, there’s nothing fair about you.”

His own blade materializes seemingly out of thin air, hilt tossed about in his palm, black and orange in color.

How fitting.

He waits for you to lunge, and you do with a centering growl, keeping low, arm swinging in a sideways arc just as his does, forcing you to switch up, instead sliding into his booted feet as if sweeping in for a home run. He stumbles and you barely manage to regain your balance before darting out of the way of his blade.

“Still overeager, I see,” Silco pants, eyes tracking your form, circling you like a vulture, voice pitching strangely.

“Still a beanpole, I see,” you retort, flying at him again, as if determined to prove his point.

And you begin a vicious dance, meeting in the middle again and again. You leap out of the way of his attacks, clever and dexterous, using practiced history to anticipate his movements.

“I do, by the way” you say, managing to catch him off guard with a brutal kick to the stomach, “Think I’m clever.”

Silco hisses, but latches onto your ankle, yanking you forward.

“Do you?” he grits.

You spin mid-air, yelping as your full body weight smacks the mat, and you succeed in donkey kicking him away.

“I do,” you sputter, leaping back to your feet. “I mean Janna, how long have you been letting me run circles around you?”

Something dark and merciless casts a shadow over both orange and teal, his pupils dilating as his tongue presses into his teeth in calculation. His gaze trails unhurriedly down your body, as if capturing this moment of hubris, memorizing it.

And he exhales a soft grunt, focus narrowing back on the widening of your eyes as he cocks his head and this time, he’s the first to lunge.

You defend, spring back time and time again, blocking each of his relentless jabs, desperation pushing you to swing at him hard but he surprises you, a fist enclosing your wrist to jar you, pull you off kilter.

You twirl, side-step to correct, switch the knife to your other hand just in time to have it end up trapped between his arm and your side as he yanks you into his chest, arm encircling your mid-back.

Your bewildered gaze takes a moment to adjust to your new position- his knife poised delicately against your throat, face hovering directly over yours.

“Long enough,” he answers in a tattered voice, and your eyes flutter as his breath tickles the sweat-dampened hairs on your forehead.

The two of you are flushed, panting, and with the way he fastens you against him, your lower abdomen flush against an unmistakable hardness, his knife driving your upper body backward, you have to arch uncomfortably into him just to maintain eye contact.

In his gaze there is a hunger that shocks, overwhelms you in its intensity.

“Do you work for anyone?” he asks.

You try to make your weapon anything but useless at your side, wrenching your wrist, grazing the side of his thigh.

“I can still make it hurt,” you snarl, eyes pinning his with a cold glare as you try and muster something up out of that ever-flowing well of anger in your chest.

You use your free hand to attempt to grate your nails across any visible skin, because however self-assured he looks, the fight isn’t over.

Silco’s response is to lower his center hold to wrap around your waist, forcing you to grip tightly to the fabric of his shoulder just to keep from falling back.

His searing look demands an answer.

“Here and there-”

The knife digs in lightly.

“No,” you choke. “I don’t have a job.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t kn-“

The knife drives you further back and you let out a tight, teeth-gritting squawk of frustration, the discomfort of craning your neck enough that you finally drop your head back, relaxing into his firm grip, the two of you standing in an awkward, uncomfortable mimicry of a ballroom dip.

“Because I’m- I was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck happened to you.” The words are cast from your mouth and into the open air like tiny, poisonous arrows. “I knew you wouldn’t have just up and left like they said. I searched everywhere- ate, slept, and breathed you, only to find out you were still alive…”

Pause.

“And you decided to make my life harder for it?”

Your cackling laugh sounds deranged from your position.

“Among other things. You deserved every-”

You choke on a gasp as Silco rolls his hips methodically slow, the ridge of his cock catching your clit and drawing his impressive length upward, wrenching an embarrassing, high-pitched moan from your throat as your fingers dig into his shirt.

This isn’t how it-

The knife in your hand clatters to the floor as he rolls against you again, rendering you speechless.

“Maddening. You are maddening.” His tone is so low, so ragged, it must be born from the deepest, most primal part of him. “You know, I used to spend hours concocting ways to get you to shut up.”

He abandons his own knife, sheathing it at his side, splaying his hands to drag up your spine, until one long-fingered hand clasps around the back of your neck.

You stare dazedly as he lifts you, blinking half-lidded as you drink them in, those carefully impassive features that you think you can see right through. You press your face gently into his neck, teasing along the hinge of his jaw, and you hate how well you fit, the way his knife-bladed nose buries perfectly into your hair, the gentleness contrasting his next clipped words.

“Shoving my cock down your throat to silence your incessant screeching. Fucking you back into those shadows where you thought you hid so well. Suffo-“

Silco’s words stutter into the crown of your head as you lick a long, salty stripe across his pulse point and his hand draws up to fist in your hair, pulling back so he can look at you.

“Suffocating you until those pretty eyes rolled back.”

Your hands fall to his hips to run down his sides, up again to pull him flush against you. His free hand follows suit, kneading into your ass as he hunches over you just slightly in order to track his middle and index down, applying a perfect, dragging pressure once, twice over the crotch of your pants before trailing back up to cup your soft flesh.

“Always such an angry thing,” he says almost reverently as you try and fail to stifle a whine, “Now look at you. So soft.”

Silco, one hand still kneading into your hair, steps back to make room for the other as it travels down your front.

It’s not practiced fear nor rage that you tremble from this time, it’s raw desire that has you shaking like a leaf as he slides his palm between your pants and underwear.

It’s been so long, you realize, since you’ve been touched, even held, that at the first swipe of his fingers across your clit, you cry out, wobbling, eyes screwing shut at the explosive sensation.

“I think,” he croons down at you, and his voice is so deceptively soft as he works you, “What you needed all along was for someone to just touch you.”

You can’t lose sight, won’t lose sight.

Even as he leans down to your ear.

“For me to touch you, hm?”

He drags tight circles around your aching bud and your knuckles crack as your hand unfists his shirt, smoothing down the rough material of his vest.

You nearly sob as the pressure builds sharply, and it’s almost humiliating how fast he’s able to bring you to that precipice.

“Pl-ease,” you pant, tilting your head up, moaning through your teeth. “I’m g-onna-”

His mouth is so close to yours, breath uneven, labored as he quickens his pace, his wild eyes mapping the pleasure as it tracks across your face.

“You can cum, darling.”

Your eyes flutter closed, and everything gets tighter, and tighter.

“I w-“ Seconds away, you’re seconds away from that cliff. “I w-“

The hand in your hair finds its way to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“I win.“

And just as you cross the point of no return, you clumsily press the pointed end of his dagger into his upper back just enough that he’s able to identify it before tossing it to the side to clatter to the floor.

He could have killed you. But he didn’t. You could have killed him. But you didn’t.

The shock, the black that blows out the teal of his eye at the realization is enough to push you over the edge and you’re sinking your nails into his arm, clawing red, angry trails across his skin in desperation as your back bows and your knees buckle.

The punishing grip in your hair only heightens the domino effect and to Silco’s credit, he doesn’t stop working you, lowering you slowly to the ground as you writhe against him, a long, high-pitched whine freeing itself from your throat.

Light explodes behind your eyelids and you fall forward, curling in on yourself as your pussy clenches around nothing.

You blink stars out of your eyes as you peer down.

Silco is on his knees and you straddle his lap, his hard length nestled between the apex of your thighs. Through the dull ringing in your ears, you hear his sputtering.

And you hardly realize that your forehead presses against his until you’re jarred aggressively, two hands sliding up your sides to rid you of your shirt, your bra, tossing them furiously to the side.

He’s spitting acid.

“I should have killed you. The moment I discovered it was you.”

He grabs the back of your head, pulls you into a violent kiss, and a tidal wave of sensation has the world crashing back in and before you know it, your hands are eagerly twisted into the textured strands of his hair, hips grinding into his.

A familiar rumble of anger rocks through his chest and he yanks your hair back, runs one hand down your collarbone to cup one breast roughly.

“Desperate for more, already?” You squeal when he twists your nipple hard. “Do you really think after that little display you deserve anything I have to offer?”

“I think I deserve something.”

One of your hands falls to the strain in his pants and you run your palm along it, deriving a sick satisfaction from the way his abdomen tightens, his teeth grind.

He tilts forward, mouth enveloping one of your pebbling nipples and your gasp ratchets into a vulgar moan as his tongue flutters around the stiff peak, the sensation arcing its way directly between your legs, the heat too much. Too fast.

The hand not fondling him caresses the back of his head, unsure whether to pull him in or push him away as his teeth graze the sensitive skin and he sucks, pulling out of you a keening cry.

He moves to the other breast, lavishing it with similar attentions like a man starved, nipping sharply when you grow selfish, when your hand stops working at him.

You need him. You need more.

“Please.”

“Hm?”

“Please,” you snip impatiently, “You want me to beg, right? Isn’t that your thing?”

Silco releases your hair and you spring forward, nipping lightly at his bottom lip, working on his pants.

“I’m quite aware of your neediness already.”

“Asshole.”

He snatches your jaw in an iron grip and you maintain his fiery gaze with a determined glare as you thumb the complex buttons of his pants. Something oddly soft irons out the crease between his brow before you’ve take him into your palm much faster than anticipated, and he releases a shattered growl.

The speed at which he strikes you down is astonishing and you blink twice, confused, at your sudden view of the ceiling. Silco looms in your lower periphery, his adept hands making quick work of your pants, yanking them off, tossing them to the side. Your eye draws to the twitching length lying solid, inviting against his inner thigh and he meets your hungry gaze with one of his own.

You sit up, intent to pounce.

“Lay back down,” he commands harshly, and you ignore, sitting back on your haunches.

“No.”

Silco lurches forward as you spider back but he’s faster, and you let out an indignant screech as he snatches your ankles, yanking you toward him, your skin making an outrageous noise as it squeaks across the leather mat.

“If you want to make things difficult,” he growls, length grazing your thigh as he immobilizes your squirming form, folding your knees outward, spreading you lewdly to observe the glistening wetness between your legs. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“I’m more than happy to oblige,” you mock in a comically low voice and he smacks your thigh hard. You wriggle to try and aim a pathetic kick at his chest and with barely curbed aggravation he drags himself between your legs, propping himself over you.

Silco slides himself across your slick folds, catching at your entrance. Your body betrays you as you release a strangled moan. His arms quake just slightly, head dropping with a shuddered breath at the feel of your soaking heat, strands of his hair falling out of his careful style to tickle your neck.

He bounces back quicker than you do, grasping himself, dragging the swollen head of his cock torturously up and down your slit, studying you callously as you writhe beneath, punishment for your cheekiness.

“Fucker,” you spit and his lips twitch almost fondly. He drops his head to your sweat damp neck.

“I’ve been nice thus far,” he croons into the juncture of your jaw. “Can’t you try? To be nice?”

“I swear to Janna, put me on top if you can’t do this right. I’ve waited years for this, and it’s going to be done my way.”

“Unfortunately, that’s no longer in the cards after you held a knife to my back.”

“Served you right!” you yell.

He murmurs a quiet “Careful,” into your ear before he removes himself from your neck, sitting back on his haunches, positioning himself.

“I think you just want something to be upset about.”

“I do-oh“

Your lips freeze in an ‘oh’ as his hips begin a slow inch forward and you’re both made speechless. He pauses, and you don’t know whether it’s for you or him, his teal eye shutting tightly as if to anchor himself.

Silco is solid and so achingly hard inside you, and he stretches you painfully. But it’s exquisite. And he’s too slow, trying to savor it, you think, the moment. But he’s not answering your whining pleas and you’re squirming to grab his attention. Impatient.

Your legs wrap around his thighs, and you cross your ankles. You smile devilishly with the satisfaction of watching his eye shoot back open in realization before you thrust him the rest of the way inside.

His mouth falls open as a jagged, echoing groan is punched out of him, his fingers digging excruciatingly hard into the muscles of your inner thigh as his hips are pressed flush with yours.

You cry out at the sudden fullness, clawing uselessly at the mat. Oh, it’s excruciating. Wonderfully so. And you want him- no, need him to do something besides clutch into your skin, tower over you as if deciding which part of you to stab into first. And in a bid for a reaction out of the man, you clench around him, hard.

He hisses through his teeth.

“M-move.”

“Oh,” Silco breathes, his voice full of deadly promise, chest heaving with unbridled fury, only fueled by the wild lust eclipsing both eyes. “You make me mad.”

Fingers dig further into your thigh as he violently spreads your legs apart, crawling forward until his face is right above your panting one, shoulders pressing you into a curled position, knees spread impossibly wide.

Breathing is suddenly no longer a course of action as, without warning, his palm clamps down on your throat and squeezes, rendering you completely prone beneath him as you have no choice but to take it as he fucks into you mercilessly.

Deep, quick-fire thrusts nail hidden spots inside you that have mini fireworks exploding behind your eyelids.

Your chest burns and your body doesn’t know what sensation to focus on, what reality to latch onto, mind going completely and blissfully haywire as neurons seem to fire haphazardly. You grasp onto his arm like a lifeline, pleasure recycling over and over again as you convulse beneath him.

“You make me furious.”

There’s a rumbling, a purr, emitting from low in his chest, vibrating into your own, like a growling predator just emerged from its den. It feeds you, challenges you.

You fight to maintain the angry eye contact as you’re jostled, and he lets up, allowing you a few choked breaths before grasping your throat again.

He wrenches your head to the side, and his breath is a hot pant against your ear as he seethes, each syllable accompanied by the sound of his hips meetings yours in an obscene slap.

“Incorrigible. Never learned to behave. So rude. So impatient.”

The beginnings of another orgasm tingle across your sweat soaked skin as a rubber band stretches across your lower belly. Your hands latch onto his where they clasp around your throat, tightening his hold there.

Silco groans at the gesture, and suddenly he’s everywhere, heated words whispering into your neck, your cheekbones, your temple.

“You love it, don’t you? Me shutting you up like this. Should’ve done this ages ago. Given you the attention you so desperately begged for. With all your silly little tantrums.”

You don’t hear the rest.

It’s less of a crackling explosion, this one, more of a gentle, rolling thunderstorm as that band snaps. Except you’re completely fixed, held down entirely by Silco- can’t arch your back, can’t stretch your legs, you can’t even cry out- just have to lie there and take what he’s given you, a wild pressure renting out every hollow in your trembling body until he offers you an outlet by releasing your throat, a throaty wail resonating obscenely across the stone walls.

You suck in air, cough it back out, can hardly get a grip on yourself as pleasure ripples back and forth like you’re being steamrolled by it.

And you hardly know where you are, eyes squeezed shut, tiny whimpers accompanying every exhale, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, Silco still inside you, still impossibly hard, although not moving. You can sense he’s propped above you, can feel his eyes as they dart across your trembling features, watching as you work through the terribly powerful bliss.

And then all is still.

You crack open your eyes, fix them on the ceiling, blinking languidly, studying and counting the criss-crossing wooden slats like you’d just awoken from a deep slumber.

A calloused hand slides its way under the back of your neck, another wraps your mid-back and you allow yourself to be pulled up and into Silco lap, your arms wrapping the back of his neck automatically, nose burying itself in his neck.

It’s a complete contradiction, the way he rocks up into you now, slowly, like you’re something to be savored. And you ram your forehead into his shoulder, biting into the fabric of his vest as you try not to jolt with each wet slide of him inside your sensitive walls.

You keep your eyes closed for a moment just to listen to his soft grunts as he wrecks you again with gentle but thorough thrusts, each movement pushing a small, unrestrained whine from your lips as he fills you perfectly.

Silco puffs a laugh and you realize dazedly you’ve been muttering out loud.

“Perfect,” you rasp again, unashamed.

He tugs you backward and you surrender your position on his shoulder with a whine that he swallows, pressing his lips to yours and forging ahead with his expert tongue when you gasp at the newness of it, the tenderness.

He reaches a hand down between your bodies and you shake your head, lips breaking from his.

“I ca-I can’t. Too sensitive.”

“Shhh,” he croons gently before his thumb finds your aching bud.

You jump at the electric arc of sensation, yelp as his other hand grabs a hold of your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace, beginning to chase his own release.

He’s already close, he has to be.

Silco swallows every tattered moan, every soft squeal that he pulls out of you with the expert roll of his thumb.

Your body writhes, contorts as he fucks up into you.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you murmur, almost panicking against his mouth and you can feel the smirking stretch of his lips.

And it slams into you again, a third orgasm rising so sharply you feel like you’ve just flown off the edge of a cliff with no ground in sight. You let out a long, anguished whine into his mouth and you’re clawing at him as one set of fingers continue to work you through it, the others threading your hair to better inhale your cries.

Your arms can hardly summon the energy to hold yourself upright, and you just slump onto his shoulder, spasming around him, drenching his cock as you cry out his name in a torn voice that draws his own release forth, pulsing in tandem as his hips stutter, spilling his load into you with a ragged groan.

Your fingers find his hair, shakily brushing through the soft strands, and you try to quell the aching emotion in your chest that has tears springing to your eyes, has you pressing yourself further into his shoulder to hide.

“I missed you,” you say. It’s all you can say, really.

A hand draws hesitantly down your spine, kneading each vertebrae, as if to ensure you were still there. Real.

“You’re not the only one,” he murmurs, and there's a long pause before he turns, dropping his chin gently to the top of your head, “Whose been waiting.”

<3 <3 <3

Hi, I hope you enjoyed! Sorry I was a day late with this one. It's 3am and my only hope at this point is that this story makes a modicum of sense. Thank you for reading, I love you all! Here's the AO3 Link if you'd rather read on there!

Stay unhinged!

Love, Sulty <3

@of-the-argonath

#silco #silco x reader #silco x you #silco arcane #arcane #reader insert #silco fic #sulty writes

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