sorumber

[sorumber]

“silco did-“ idc “jinx did- “ idc “sevika did-“ idc “viktor did-“ idc IDC i will defend zaunites to the day that i die, idc how many drugs were smuggled, how many rich ppl were killed, how many minds were manipulated, i love them all to death

[sorumber]

Devotion

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You noticed, for the first time, that your so-called devotion bordered on the obsessive. Your own wills were erased in an instant in favor of Silco's demands. At the very least, you should be deeply worried. Still, your glee felt weirdly in place.

Tags: Angst, Silco being kind of a dick, Power Dynamics, Smut

Warnings: A bit of degradation & rough treatment

This was posted on AO3, I edited it and decided to post here too, it's something I intend to do that with all my fics.

No description of body parts but there's a "good girl" along the way

No use of y/n

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This was a classic night: the muffled music that played incessantly, the feeling of constant  muffled heat that only that corridor seemed to possess, and you, in silence, thinking about all the decisions that had brought you to that moment.

Even without any good conclusions, there you were, next to Silco's office door, waiting almost impatiently for him to end the conversation he was currently having with his daughter.

You had already learned from previous situations to not be near him when Jinx was around. While the man might have some fondness for you, the girl couldn't despise you any more, even if she tried. 

Her disaffection was something you and Sevika shared.

The bodyguard was the very same person who was smoking across the hall, sitting in a beat-up chair and occasionally blowing the thick smoke with a heavy smell that was almost familiar enough to be comforting. Even though you've been waiting for a while, you two hadn't exchanged a word other than greetings. The silence wasn't uncomfortable and you knew it wouldn’t change a thing if it was.

Besides, you doubted that she had any matters to discuss with you, who were like a small animal kept around only for the luxury of Silco, who seemed interested in having a pretty young thing in reach.

Still, the idea of trying to break out of his constant grasp was surreal. You doubted he'd stop you and just the thought alone of not being in demand anymore made your stomach churn.

Your spiraling was cut short by the bang of the door being thrown open. You made sure to avoid the blue haired girl's eyes since they always seemed to sparkle with insanity and you didn't want to piss her off. She was very much like a time bomb waiting to explode and you would hate to be in the blast radius when it happened - because it wasn't a question of if, but when. Of course, you never expressed your opinion of her to Silco and he never showed any interest in knowing it.

Even though you knew the conversation must have taken a more serious tone by the way she left without taunting you or Sevika, your head only lifted when you couldn't hear her hurried footsteps anymore.

After a few moments, Silco's voice called you and your hallway colleague into the office.

He cut a cigar before speaking. For Sevika, a simple and direct order: no interruptions, no visitors. The only exception to that, of course, would be Jinx, but something in the man's tone implied that she wouldn't be back anytime soon.

For you, words that would sound confusing to the naive: keep him company.

As one of the top authority figures in the Undercity, Silco was rarely alone - whether it was Sevika, any of the other bar staff, or the chem-barons who seemed to be around more and more often these days, it was nearly impossible to see the man unaccompanied. That phrase had a more intimate meaning.

With a simple nod, the bodyguard was gone, closing the door gently behind her as she left. The low click of the lock was your signal to approach the man cautiously, despite not knowing exactly what he needed.

"Do you want a massage, sir?" You suggested, stopping in front of the table full of papers and with the emblematic scribbled ashtray. It was hard to pretend that there was anything there that deserved your attention more than the man in front of you, who let his eyes run over your form, drinking in every inch of skin exposed by your provocative clothes.

You saw him close his eyes before exhaling a cloud of white smoke that slowly dissipated into the air, curling and disappearing in an accidental spectacle. The complex scent told you how absurdly expensive it must be, hints of a woodsy odor that you knew few people in Zaum would have the pleasure of enjoying.

While nothing in the atmosphere was particularly threatening, Silco's presence seemed to make the air heavier, as if your very breathing was being restricted. That was just one of the many effects that the most powerful man in the Undercity caused: you had the constant impression that you'd get drunk from the authority he practically exuded.

He took one more drag before abandoning the cigar in the ashtray and getting up, walking around the table with slow steps, like he had all the time in the world.

Just knowing he was approaching made the hairs on your nape stand up.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped in front of you, leisurely sliding an arm around your waist while resting his other hand around your neck. The grip was firm, not enough to be suffocating, but enough to remind you of the most basic premissive of your dynamic: you belonged to him.

Being used with this development, you relaxed against his body, breathing in the masculine cologne with devotion. He nuzzled your neck slowly, and only then he met your eyes, and you noticed that was the first time he did it since you'd entered the room. Your shivers of anticipation didn't go unnoticed.

A few moments passed with your senses stimulated only by the warmth of his calloused hands and the way he watched you silently, analyzing, studying, finding only perfection in your docile and eager state. Sometimes you suspected he could hear, or maybe even feel, your heart beating almost violently in your chest.

"On your knees."

The emotionless order was processed instantly.

Without hesitation, you knelt down, keeping your head up to meet his indifferent gaze. You just heard the soft rustle of his belt being undone before you felt one of his hands stroking your hair affectionately. The moment might have been tender if it weren't for the nearly flaccid cock only inches from your face.

Without receiving any further instructions, you began to suck the length carefully, knowing that you wouldn't receive any change of expression or grunt as a sign of approval.

In fact, you rarely could tell if you were doing a good job or not.

After some effort, it finally became rigid - the amount of time this took varied from day to day. You knew that your enthusiasm didn't always translate as him being invested as well.

You took a few moments to appreciate the color and size, features that had already been fondly memorized. So you resumed your previous actions, going back to working with your mouth, feeling the hand that previously just rested on the top of your head grip your hair firmly. That was another silent order.

Without waiting, you tucked as much of the length into your mouth as you could, the effort resulting in your nose brushing the grayish pubic hair and in the newly pressure applied to your throat.

Silco's mercy was expressed in the time he gave you to get used to the uncomfortable feeling.

When your head was pulled back slightly, you began sucking in a slow rhythm, busy trying to not grind your teeth while also fighting the intoxicating sensation that awakened in your body. Almost instantly, Silco dug his fingers hard into your locks, forcing you to keep up with the relentless rhythm.

Even when you forgot to breathe through your nose and the access to oxygen was briefly cut off, your body didn't try to fight back. You knew you were at his complete disposal, even if it meant absolute discomfort. Your arms held the man's legs in a simple attempt to support you and not even for a second you tried to move away, even with your breath becoming increasingly scarce.

For a moment, your eyes managed to focus on something in the midst of the chaos: Silco's eyes, so devoid of emotion they could be mistaken for a painting, the notion that he was watching you from above sent a shiver down your spine. With that, your vision quickly became blurred by tears that welled up from the exertion. You were suffocating.

Then a sigh. A sound so, so low that it might not have happened at all.

And just the promise of a reaction was enough to remind you to breathe through your nostrils, the air making your lungs burn.

It wasn't until you calmed down enough that you were able to process the arousal that seemed to ignite your body. You were so busy satisfying the industrialist that you hadn't noticed your own moans being muffled by his length, which was still moving in and out of your mouth at a vicious pace. You had been demoted to a toy, something useful to achieve a goal, which in this case was Silco's pleasure: not even your movements, or lack of, belonged to you.

You were pliant and eager to please, reduced to a desperate, tear-eyed little thing.

With no warning your hair was pulled again, an obscene sound echoed as he pulled out of your mouth. Panting, but not daring to cough, you turned your eyes to the face of the man, who was still watching, completely transfixed in you.

This time, though, you thought you saw a sliver of satisfaction in his elegant facial features.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a warm sensation that gushed down your cheek, hi cum carelessly painting your face. Turning your attention to the slimy substance, you scooped up what your tongue couldn't reach with your fingers, swallowing until the very last drop.

Feeling the cold wind from the office beating against your skin, you knew that you were red, flushed, eyes still watery - and you wouldn't do a thing about it if Silco didn't want you to.

You knew instantly that it wasn't going to go any further for the way he easily composed himself, adjusting his belt with deft movements.

Still on your knees, you watched him silently, waiting for the next order. Instead, you received a firm hand caressing your face carefully. Almost softly.

He didn't kneel down, but came close enough so that you could feel his breath on your face. Sighing, you stared at him, knowing that holding his gaze after another session should be commonplace, and yet you struggled. It was like staring into the abyss, ashamed that you desperately wanted it to stare back.

The motley pair of eyes held you in a trance. In moments like that, it was as if he offered the most precious thing in the world to you and you alone: his attention. Pure and whole, not shared with anything or anyone else. It was you and Silco, trapped in an ephemeral eternity.

You've already watched the features from so many different angles that you shouldn't be surprised by the elegance the serious face carried. Strangely, you thought the eye with the black sclera, even with the glaring scars that surrounded it, was kinder than his pale blue eye.

At that moment, the fascination only made obvious what you already knew: he could ask you for anything, and no matter how absurd the request, you'd gladly oblige. The only thing you would dare ask for in return was his gaze focusing exclusively on you.

That realization made something click in your mind, as if you'd unraveled an age-old mystery and a new shiver ran down your spine.

This time, though, not out of excitement.

Silco noticed your quick change of expression, humming as he let his fingertips glide over your skin.

"Are you afraid?"

He must have thought it had something to do with the scars. Quickly, you covered his hands with yours, smiling sincerely as you spoke slowly.

"No, of course not. I could never be afraid of you."

He didn't bother to hide his curious expression. "And what else could you be afraid of, darling?"

The nickname made you blush. He had called you affectionately on a few occasions before, but never this close, when your face was in full view.

"...of how you make me feel."

Your sudden sincerity was the result of the vulnerable atmosphere that reigned in the office. He pondered what you said for a moment but didn't seem particularly displeased with your words.

"Darling, fear is just a mechanism of self preservation. Perhaps you should be afraid."

His eyes, which had wandered over your face carefully, returned to your own gaze. That was a subtle way of warning you again of boundaries you shouldn't cross. The reason didn't matter. 

"...yeah, maybe." Your half statement sounded uncertain, a sign of reluctance in agreeing with him.

Slowly, he took his hands away from your face, only to carelessly stroke your hair, further ruffling the strands that were already in disarray from your earlier activities.

"Good girl."

The words, along with how you were being petted like a dog, could be demeaning. In reality, you suspected that they should cause you some kind of discomfort rather than the feeling of pure pride that rose in your chest.

Perhaps you were really some kind of pet. It didn't scare you. The most disconcerting thing about the whole ordeal was that you were happy to be his, in any way that might be. Obedient, devoted and loyal, as the best pets tend to be and you would always be the best for your boss.

You searched desperately for any degree of repulsion or revolt in your mind - only to realize that you weren't dissatisfied at all with the situation.

The fear from before was accentuated. You were fully and completely at the mercy of the Eye of Zaun.

You couldn't be happier.