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sweatandwoe · 1 year

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Just One Bite - Part 1

After having the misfortune of being bitten by a vampire, there are only two options left for you: accept becoming an undead creature of the night or die. You've made your choice, and you're ready to accept the consequences of it.

Unfortunately, the man who had bitten you has far more control than any other vampire. And far too much power to leave the decision up to your own making.

Vampire!Silco x F!Reader Warnings: MDNI, Cannibalism Mention, Gore, Violence, Vampires being weird, Vaginal Fingering, Lots of thinking about death 4.8k Words

Happy Halloween!

Here is part 1 of Vampire Silco! Thank you to everyone who donated during the live stream charity, we got 480 dollars donated! Thank you to everyone who donated <3 <3 <3 Part 2 of this fic will be uploaded on Friday. I hope you enjoy

Ao3 Link!

There is something beautiful in death.

There is a softness to the bone and a dullness to the tissue that creates a drip of petals on the pale floor tiles. Petals that will stain to a brown that the owner of the establishment will lie and say was coffee if anyone else were to ask.

But you know what it truly was; the last signs of a struggle.

“Is there a reason for the rush order today?”

Singed is smoking, a rarity for him but not uncommon with Zaunites even if he was an adopted one. The cigarette hangs from one of the lipless sections of his mouth, held between crooked canines. “Silco wants something fresh for tonight.”

Your eyes dart to the man on the table, now hooked up to tubes that are draining him while he wriggles in what is left of death throes. No noises leave him now, lips blue and eyes drawing back, into bloodshot pale dots. Singed will eat those later, after you’ve left, along with probably most of the man’s organs. He had always been the type to prefer to chew rather than drink.

It was lucky your skills were considered invaluable to him, and that he was well-fed. “I’m surprised he didn’t select someone.”

“He did.” Singed’s sharp fingers grow red as he presses down onto the man’s chest cavity, shirt gone and mismatched eyes gazing over the bruised chest. A finger traces just over the sternum. “Luckily for you, I told him no.”

You roll your eyes, offering him a scalpel, that he doesn’t take with a small shake of his head. “Not like I’ll be mortal for much longer anyways.”

There’s a pause from the older man, before he draws a sharp nail, a claw really, over the skin of the dying man’s chest. It’s a sight you’re used to enough, moving your hands to hold back the flaps of skin when Singed creates them, which he gives a small thank you for. The man is beginning to pass out, eyes drawing back and whimpering quietly.

“Slap him.”

You do so, and the man jolts and Singed purrs, both hands wrapping around the sternum bone. Pressing down with his palms, hooking his fingers under it, until it breaks. Not very cleanly, but enough that most of the bone is now out of the way from the prize of his heart. He sets down the bone on a table nearby, red splashing along the sides of it, and coating the bottom like red on fresh snow.

The doctor snubs out his cigarette in it, turning the bloody bone over like an ashtray. “If Silco asks for you, it means he plans on killing you. Not turning you.”

You frown, pinning the flaps of skin out of the way before moving to discard your gloves. The scar on your neck is tingling. “He’s drank from me before-”

“That was a different situation. One where he managed to maintain control. Thanks to certain parties present.” Singed strolls back over, and draws some muscle and tissue away, to a faintly beating heart. It stops moving when clawed fingers grab it, easily ripping it away with a wet tear. “I believe if I hadn’t been there to watch, you would most likely be dead.” And Singed offers a rare smile, one that makes his good eye crinkle. “And I rather like you alive. Or undead. Far more useful.”

You reach over, easily grabbing another cigarette from the loose jacket he always wore, knowing he kept his extras in the top left pocket. Familiar enough to get close to a vampire, without real fear of his teeth or claws. In fact, Singed only hums in amusement when you pluck the joint between your lips.

“You know, studies have shown the effects of those,” a bloody finger gestures to the cigarette while you draw out a lighter, “may kill you even faster than he would.”

You flick the lighter and take a deep inhale, shoving the metal back into your pocket before speaking. “I think cancer takes a few years, Doctor.”

“And Silco has taken almost two with you already if I’m not mistaken, he could lose to it by this point.” Singed smiles, but it’s not kind. There are no teeth and his eye isn’t crinkling now. “He drank from you two years ago. Vampires aren’t known for that usual level of patience with their prey..”

That was true. Usually, if you were bit by a vampire it was a matter of time. Death or the turning was the calling because your blood would sing to the vampire. Usually, a vampire would take a year to kill someone at most, the thirst, and the calling would be far too much. Humans were not like other mindless prey, and leaving them alive seemed to drive the immortals to a point of insanity. But so far Silco had retained his own, while not even dipping his fangs once more against your skin. Though you weren’t sure if you would’ve objected to that familiar bite.

Glancing at the calendar, the current month holding a silly picture of a Kitten with drawn-on details by Jinx, it would be two years to the day in just one week.

Two years ago, when you found him on a night when a fire burned blue and Zaun’s air was filled with ash instead of fog.

The fangs are still in your neck, whenever you think about it. A feeling that never truly goes away; the feeling of being eaten alive, of your blood draining out of you, of your nails scraping along his skin, and the soft whimpers that draw from your lips until he finally opens his eyes and finally, truly sees you.

You blink the memory away, the smell of your cigarette suddenly burning at your nose. Drawing it away from your lips, you instead stare at the clock, watching as the seconds tick by. “Almost dinner time?”

Singed hums, drifting closer to the corpse now, heart still in hand. Kind enough to wait for you to leave before he’ll bite into it, but the way his eyes are darkening, he’s clearly hungry. “Yes, I don’t think there’s anything left for today. The blood will be processed and I’ll have someone else send for it.”

You don’t linger, moving away with a soft goodbye that he returns, and you ignore the wet tearing noises you hear the moment the door starts to close behind you. Singed held a level of patience that could’ve rivaled Silco, but you’re also certain that comes with the fact that you’ve worked with him for the past two years now. You had certainly seen what he had done to strangers before, or anyone who tried to steal Shimmer’s formula. It was why your walk out is empty; no need for guards when the scientist was the true man to fear here.

Your thoughts drift in about vampires once more as you make your way down the stone halls of the laboratory. When you’d be turned, you’d be a drinker, you had decided that. It might be less fresh, but at least it wasn’t as disgusting as the noises that were echoing in the hall as you left.

The cigarette is snubbed once you’re outside the lab, and there’s a car coming down. Probably whoever was there to pick up the blood supply, and you only give a small wave that is acknowledged back, before you cross the street and begin to wander. It was late, but you didn’t want to go home yet. There was still a bit of daylight, though it was disappearing as you left the emptiness of where the lab was and into the deeper trenches of the city.

Since Vander had died, the Underworld had grown louder and far more colorful. Beautiful, even with people that had lilac or violet eyes roaming the streets, slack-jawed and easy targets for those with sharp teeth. Crime had been rampant before Silco had taken over the Undercity, it was just not as blatant due to Vander’s control and weak stomach for the sight of it, hidden behind closed doors from the Hound of the Undercity. That same weakness was one of the reasons he lost control, and died.

Though Singed was working on bringing him back, a special side project to try and create some other version of undeath than a vampire. Something that involved you picking up a lot of deliveries for dead canines, and when he was annoyed, he’d have you skin them too for whatever skin he was making for his monster.

He really was a dick sometimes. Luckily, that was the worst he made you do, you hadn’t annoyed him to the point of him strapping you to the red-stained gurney. At least so far.

The air warms the deeper you go, and the more people with purple eyes appear. Some have obvious bite marks along their throat or arms and you pass a body slumped over with several sets of different-sized bites. There even appears to be a few chunks of flesh missing.

It’s easy to look away after so long, to ignore the problem and continue forth until you find yourself on Drop Street.

It has your scar tingling, and there is a burn that rolls through your throat. Fangs in your throat, desperation runs through you, a familiar panic that has your heart jumping. But for the past few times you’ve ended up on Drop Street, you’re still not sure what you’re so desperate for.

Eyes flick over the buildings as you continue to wander down the street. Torgen’s shop still has its lights on, with the scent of leather oils perforating from it. Heather’s Laundry is also still open, though it seems the hours have extended since the window had been broken into. But your feet carry you to the sound of the thumping music, to flashing lights and a sense of familiarity makes you feel safe.

The two bouncers only nod, recognizing you or at least the pin in the shape of an eye on your coat. They step aside to let you in ahead of a few junkies who scowl and yell but are easily ignored once you’re in the club. The music is loud, pumping life through the crowd and also vibrations through the floorboards. Similar enough to a heartbeat that you wonder if Silco simply had a sick sense of humor.

Probably, in the interactions you had with him, he did have a quick wit. And he seemed to enjoy making people around him laugh, or making fun of his enemies.

The bar is crowded, but you wait your turn by people watching briefly, eyeing a couple who seem to have little shame in one corner right next to the dance floor. You drag your eyes away to a person dancing, whose connected long neon lines of ribbon from their wrists. The original color of them is unrecognizable, but the long ribbons have a glowing effect of a soft teal.

Like blood in a blacklight. Or Silco’s good eye.

You really needed to stop bringing everything back to him. It’s making your scar ache almost painfully.

Once you can, you lean against the bar and give Thierem your best smile. “Can I get a-”

“No.” His arms cross, and his mouth is a thin line. It looks awkward on the young man, who you had never seen look so stern before. “Sevika said if you’re in here, to bring you straight to her.”

That has you blinking. “What the fuck? Since when?”

“Since she saw you come in five minutes ago. She’s pissed.”

“What the fuck did I do?”

A cold grip lands on your shoulder and it sends a chill down your spine like you were splashed with freezing water. The claws of metal are sharp, grazing over the meat of the joint. “You came here tonight.”

Sevika is kind enough to not drag you out of the bar, but simply into the back, ignoring any employees you pass, who in turn dutifully ignore the two of you. It's a saving grace for a lot of embarrassment, even when she shoves you into the pantry of The Last Drop kitchen, a can lands beside you and opens up to what you can only assume is some sort of gourd filling. The tall woman ignores it, in favor of glaring at you, silver eyes are cold but not terribly unamused. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You stare at her, the truth is too heavy and the lie slides out easier. “I wanted a drink?”

Not even a twitch of a smile. Shit. “You know he put out a rush order today. And you came back here anyways.”

“Not like I’m going upstairs to see him-”

“Do you understand the risk you’re putting yourself under?” Silver eyes narrow, and both flesh and metal limbs cross. “The risk you’re putting him under? All of us?”

Gingerly you tap your foot against the floor, feeling like a scolded child under Sevika’s gaze. “Singed mentioned he asked for me.”

“The doctor lied or you misread because he did not ask for you. Silco only wanted a rush order. If Silco wanted you, he wouldn’t just ask you to meet here, he’d make sure someone gets you here.” At your wince, she frowns. “You should know that. And you should be grateful for all the precautions we have to take that you’re not dead.”

Hands twist in your pockets, feeling for your lighter. Tracing your thumb over the familiar engravings on it. “He wouldn’t kill me.” And you wince after saying it, realizing it does sound like a dumb childish thing out of your head. To believe you wouldn’t die at the second bite.

Maybe because you knew how Silco could maintain control. You were a testament to that, with a scar on your neck as a constant reminder, with meetings and interactions with the man an even further display of control. Fingers leave your pocket, moving up to touch your neck, and you swallow before correcting yourself. “I don’t think he’d try to kill me. On purpose.”

“So you’d risk him doing it on accident?”

“Sevika, I get it.” You sigh, feeling a sharp twist in your stomach at her words. He could do something by accident, that was how the first bite had happened, but it still stings. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“If he wants you, he will call for you.” Sevika re-affirms, moving forward. “He doesn’t want you dead. He’s taken precautions so he won’t kill you. Try to respect that.”

You want to, you really do want to and you really want to tell Sevika that, but you let go of the lighter in your pocket to cross your fingers when you nod. “I’ll try.”

“You will.” Silver eyes narrow again, but this time her brows knit with it. The gaze draws over your forehead, then your neck.“You alright? You’re starting to sweat.” A pause before she adds on for more clarity, “A lot.”

“Just a headache, probably getting a cold.” You blink, trying to smile. “Maybe that’s why my head hasn’t been on right lately.”

Because how do you explain the addiction to something you’ve felt once? The feeling? The way you dreamed of fangs in your neck, draining you, and if he did end up draining you to the point of no return, it would be fine so long as it was him.

What you craved was insanity, one you hoped Silco would one day give you exactly what you wanted. Just hopefully he’d have more control then too because you certainly would not.

Sevika leaves shortly after that, the boss’s true meal being delivered now and she goes to help take it up to him. And you leave out the back way, heading to a cut-off alley that is an over-glorified smoke area for all of Silco’s workers.

There’s no one else when you exit the building and you’re thankful for that. Taking a spare cigarette from your jacket pocket, and move your lighter up to it. In the faint green and golden lights of Zaun, you can see the metal along the lighter. The soft engravings along each side, are wavy and intricate. The flame it gives is dulling, a signal for another refill soon, but it still manages to light the cig well enough to flick it close.

Smoking helps with the thoughts, distracting you with memories that you don’t like remembering, but it clears your head. The smell of smoke, the shattering of glass, clawed hands around your waist, teeth in your throat, the crying of a little girl.

You wonder where Jinx is tonight.

“Is that my lighter?”

Your eyes shoot upwards, staring at the man who has consumed many of your thoughts of late, before glancing back down to the lighter. Then your eyes glance back up to him, feeling beads of sweat roll down the small of your back. “Yep.”

Silco’s lips twitch, leaning on the back balcony with a cigar, and his own lighter. He drags it between the chipped front teeth, holding it perfectly outside of the fangs’ reach. It’s hard not to swallow at the sight of them, already feeling an itch on your neck, right over your scar. “You kept it?”

You frown, rolling your shoulders to try and contain the itch in your neck before leaning back against the wall and trying not to stare at him. Trying to stop the spread of warmth you’re already feeling in your veins just from the sight of him. “It’s a nice lighter.”

“There are others that are far nicer than that.”

“None in my pay range. I was using matches before I started working for you.”

“I think a match might be better than that old thing.”

You narrow your gaze, glancing up briefly to see him take a drag of his cigar, before flicking it back down. “It still works very well, despite it’s age. Do you want it back or something?”

There’s a chuckle above you, but you keep your eyes straight forward, trying to ignore the heat flooding your stomach at the amused noise. “I don’t want it back.”

Unable to resist it anymore, you drag your eyes back to the man above you, to really look at him. He’s staring out into the city, and you can just barely see his good eye from this angle. The slight breeze curls the loose ends at the back of his head, silver streaks dragging through black. There’s no hint of any scars or anything wrong, and he’d almost pass for human. But then he turns his head, revealing the scar and the fiery eye, and the hint of a fang that always protruded from that side of his mouth.

It appears more when he smirks. “Your devotion to my lighter is most admirable.”

It’s easy to scowl, pretend to be more annoyed at his remarks, and ignore the spreading warmth going lower, beyond your abdomen. “Sevika gave me shit for coming here tonight.”

The smirk disappears easily at your remark. “Why?”

“Said you were hungry and didn’t want you to do something stupid.”

He huffs, glaring out across the city. “I think I rarely do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I know, but I create a flight risk around you. From what everyone says anyway.”

This wasn’t your first one-on-one interaction with the Eye of Zaun since he had bitten you, and in none of them had he made you feel unsafe. But you were a symbol of his control now, the fact that you stood here, alive for two years after being bitten, no one doubted the amount of control Silco possessed. Even if he were to kill you as Sevika feared, it was probably more about if he did it publicly and made a mess.

But he wouldn’t do that because you knew he had hardly made a mess the first time. Red-stained lips and teeth were what you could remember.

Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and you swear you can hear the bending of metal from where one of his hands lays on the railing. Turning your gaze away, you just sigh, ready to leave before you do something or say something stupid. But when you turn to glance back, to say goodbye, you can just see him leap over the railing.

Landing right in front of you, gravel sprays up beneath his boots, but only to your knees. And then he’s staring at you, directly at you.

The cigar is still between his teeth, though he’s moved it to his molars now before he raises two fingers to hold it instead. His bad eye glows, but in this light, so does the teal one. “You don’t create any risk.” His voice is low and measured but smooth enough to draw your focus to only him. You stare at him, and he crosses his arms. “If there was a true risk, you wouldn’t be alive by now.”

“Everyone else doesn’t think like that.”

A line appears on his brow and he takes one step forward. “Do you think I’d hurt you?” He’s in front of you quickly, inhumanly so, and your heart leaps. Mismatched eyes turn to gaze at your throat before he raises his free hand and your gaze follows as it moves to your neck. Fingers trace over the mark, and you shudder involuntarily before his thumb grazes over the column of your throat.

It’s here you realize how tall he is in comparison to yourself, how sharp his fingers are, and how easily he could rip out your throat. But part of you wants him to but not with his hands. To watch him lower his head, to feel his brush of fangs, his fingers holding your body close to his own-

“Your pulse is jumping.” Fingers brush over the scar, dragging the edge of the digits slowly, enough to have you shiver. Enough for him to ask, “Are you scared?”

“No!” Wincing at how defensive you realize that sounded, you blink, taking a moment while he takes a step back, hand still on your neck. “Just remembering… the last time.”

Silco’s lips twitch, and his fingers trace over the indents of his teeth once more, before drawing away. “I don’t believe I held your throat last time.”

“No, you did. Just not with your hands.”

He raises the real eyebrow. “So much cheek today. I would have men fired if not killed for that on a bad day.”

Your brow furrows, staring right at him, trying to ignore the tingle along your neck. “This is a good day for you? Needing a drink so badly you have to rush order it? That’s your definition of a good day?”

His smirk this time is soft, something you’d almost consider a smile if you didn’t know him better, “A vampire never has a good day.”

You roll your eyes, and it only widens his almost smile, threatening to be real but given his nature and reputation, could never be so. It’s almost odd seeing him like this, being so comfortable and easily amused, but you guess it happens more frequently when he’s alone and doesn’t need to put on the boss routine. Even if he is your boss, even if it’s a distant connection. “How about a good night then? What’s the definition of a vampire’s good night.”

The smile slowly falls, like rain starting to drop. A slow start, before his lips deepen into a frown, the first sign of thunder before he’ll be a storm no doubt. “One where the thirst doesn’t leave you feeling like you’re drowning.”

You frown, feeling your scar burn at the word ‘thirst’. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. You’ll be like this too.” There’s a pause, eyes darting away from your own when you light up with that information. “Soon enough.”

You frown. “Been two years. Most vampires don’t make it a month.” Slowly you raise the corners of your mouth, a bit forcefully. “Surprised we’ve lasted this long.”

He smirks, far more cruelly than the softer appearances earlier. “I believe I have been gifted the power of restraint.”

“You couldn’t have gotten the one where it makes you sparkle? Or is that a Piltover exclusive trait?”

“I can still bite you again and this time drain you properly.”

The words shoot right into your core, and his eyes run along your neck again, following your pulse point. His eyes grow dark, nostrils flare and his lips curl slightly, revealing more of those perfectly crooked fangs, gleaming in Zaun’s lights. But he takes a step back, pulling away completely, distancing himself from you. And it makes you whimper when he does, causing mismatched, glowing eyes to flash back onto you, and more sweat starts to drip down. Something he doesn’t comment on.

What the fuck was wrong with you? “I think I need to go home.”

He nods, moving to bring his cigar and your cigarette to the ground. Snubbing them both out with the heel of his intricate boot. “I’ll walk you.”

There’s no choice in the matter, Silco had a habit of this, to the point you had been expecting it. He tended to like to walk you home if you came to the Drop. Sometimes if he came by the lab too. Perhaps he just liked your scent in your nose, perhaps he did have the same bond that you felt. Or perhaps he was always debating about taking another bite, while you were alone and no one would be able to catch him in the act.

Despite the danger, his company wasn’t unwelcome. Though today, when he presses a hand to the small of your back to help guide you back through the door, more heat spreads through you and you jerk away. A quick lie, an apology falls from your lips, saying simply that you had lifted too many things in the lab. It works as a good excuse as to why you were so off today as well. Just having some back issues and totally not about being weirdly horny about his teeth.

He only nods and keeps his hands to himself while he escorts you home in an odd silence. It’s thick but you’re not sure how to break through it, and in the end, you only can by wishing him good night.

But once that door shuts, your back is pressing against it. One hand shoves down into your pants, the other helping to tug them down just enough. Fingers run quickly along your already-soaked slit, before slipping two in and curling them just so perfectly. Pretending how his long fingers would be even deeper inside of you, and it has you clenching around your own digits already.

In the privacy of your home, you don’t have to pretend over what you want. You don’t have to lie. Here you can moan Silco’s name wantonly, touch over your scar with your free hand, while your hips grind down into the palm of your other. Here, you don’t have to care about how messy that potentially could be. How fucked it would be, to beg him to fuck you while he kills you.

But if he were to eat your heart, the least he could do would be to eat you out first.

You fuck yourself, back slick and pressed against the wall, thumbing the bitemarks. “Silco, please.” It’s easy to beg this fake, imaginary Silco, who is the one curling his fingers into you in your mind’s eye. Carrying more of those almost smiles, and a softer kiss to your forehead, before he’ll set you down on his cock, and bury his teeth into your neck while he fucks you until he’s filled you. Until you’re his completely.

There’s a crashing noise somewhere in the street below you, what you’ll find tomorrow to be a garbage can destroyed by probably some whumps, but you only register it for a second. To caught up in your own pleasure, too busy crashing down at the thought of his tongue working over you, his fangs just peeking out of his mouth. The grin when he gets you to whimper for him.

Too much.

You finish and slide down the door, until you’re sitting on the door, stars in your eyes and slickness down your inner thighs.

Clarity comes minutes afterward, realizing how it wasn’t normal to be this deep into a crush, to become turned on this easily. And that has you considering how vampirism is also not normal, maybe none of this is truly normal for even vampires, and maybe Singed kept you around for so long not to help with the experiments, but because you were one.

You were going to get answers, even if Singed didn’t like the questions.

#silco x reader #silco #arcane #mdni #vampire silco #he's gonna bite #please read the warnings!

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