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sweatandwoe · 2 years

Text

Taste Test

“Ivy.”

Her hand pauses on the handle, half-turned and hearing a soft click, free to leave now if she liked. “Yes?”

The pen falls to the desk. “Come here then, if you’re going to be a brat about it.”

Ivy turns on her heel, face warm. There is no step forward. Not yet, she isn’t sure yet. “I’m not being a brat-”

“You are.” But he’s smiling, just a little one. His gaze sharpens, as it runs over her body. “But it’s to be expected,” he raises a hand and points to the spot on the desk beside him. “I have been neglecting you in this area.”

Got a fresh smut fic for you all here, Silco x Ivy (A Helping Hand Reader), hot off the presses. Written for @x-amount-verbs love you babe <3

Pairing: Silco x Ivy Warnings: SMUT MDNI Length: 5.8k Tags: Established Relationship, Kink Neogitating, D/S Themes, Dom!Silco, Sub!Ivy, Spanking, Oral (M Recieving), Deepthroating, Dirtytalk, Silco using wordplay, Vaginal Fingering, P in V sex, Unprotected sex, silco being a good dom

“You said you’d keep Thursdays clear for this.”

The man doesn’t even look up from his paperwork. “I did. On the exception for work.”

She can’t hide her pout, as much as she tries to. The woman understands of course, what she agreed to, months ago now.

The only problem with that agreement was that he had been too busy to make it for the past three Thursdays. Thursdays were meant for, in crude terms, playtime.

It wasn’t a lack of sex that bothered her, regular casual sex was something that happened regularly still. It was this far more intimate time together, where he’d have her earn his praise over the course of a few hours. Tie her up and treat her like, well - his whore.

It was intimate, to be held and put her trust so fully in him. To shut off her mind and simply be his.

Being upset over the lack of it, was probably also due to the emotions still sitting heavy in her stomach. They didn’t talk about it, but he’d taken to kissing her goodbye each time she left. The past week, he’d held her hand, her ceramic one, while they were out doing the rounds. Told herself that he was only trying to ensure his property was working very well.

She now had enough overnight clothes in his bedroom that it could probably fit her old wardrobe.

“I just wish we could re-arrange it if it’s missed, at least.”

His pen scratches are the answers she gets, and green eyes raise to look at him once more. Something bubbles in her stomach at how he just ignores her now.

But now, she knows how to deal with him when he attempts this. Simply, she stands and heads to the door.

“Ivy.”

Her hand pauses on the handle, half-turned and hearing a soft click, free to leave now if she liked. “Yes?”

The pen falls to the desk. “Come here then, if you’re going to be a brat about it.”

Ivy turns on her heel, face warm. There is no step forward. Not yet, she isn’t sure yet. “I’m not being a brat-”

There is no objection to that, and if it makes him sting, good.

Or at least Ivy thinks that for a moment, before her stomach turns. Silco is tired and overworked, both of them are really. The last few weeks had been trying, with Finn’s new rise into his position as a Chembaron. They both needed to relax, to unwind.

The best way to help that was the play, at least usually, but she wanted to treat him a little. And the playtime hadn’t started yet, not until Silco asked her properly.

So when she reaches his desk, she takes her time to lean down. Meeting his gaze, before ducking her head to press soft lips to his cheek. His body tensed, before slumping at the sudden affection.

She starts, taking his hand in her ceramic one. Face burning and guilt eating at her stomach, as she thought of how bratty she had been tonight. “I’m sorry for being so-”

“Don’t.” His fingers tighten around her synthetic ones, a sight she sees rather than feels. “We’ve both been busy.” He raises her hand to press his lips to the back of it. A surprisingly tender sight, that makes her chest tighten.

She really needed to have a one-on-one with herself over those feelings before they burst out. In a probably embarrassing and far too dramatic fashion.

Then again, he was smiling at her in a way that could almost be described as sweet. And well, he was still holding her hand. Her voice came after a quick clear of it. “Can I decide my punishment for being a brat?”

His brow wrinkled, gazing up from her hand to her green eyes, trailing over her dark hair. “That wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you decide.” His tongue worked in his cheek before he released her hand. “That being said, you may offer suggestions.”

“You spank me-”

“That was in my plans, sweet.”

“-Five times.” Satisfaction grows as he frowns at that implication. “And afterwards, I’ll get on my knees.”

There’s a hum as he considers that offer, raising a hand to press his fingers against his cheek, leaning his head into it. “Ten spanks. And what would you do on your knees?”

The extra spanks can be dealt with. “Open my mouth.”

The flame of the red eye infects the blue. Startlingly hot orbs, he gazes over her. “You want me to fuck your throat?”

God, him saying it out loud, she could feel her thighs already pressing together. Something his gaze flickers down in notice before looking back into her face. A nod then, unable to form the words she knows he wants to hear.

The hand not holding hers, reaches out, curling around her thigh. Fingers moved slowly, rubbing against the fabric of her pants. “I need a verbal answer, Ivy.” A pause, before he leans forward, both hands curling around the back of her thighs. “Do you want to be spanked and have your throat fucked?”

A swallow. Fuck, it was so nice to hear him say it. “Yes.”

“And if your mouth is full, how do you tell me to stop?”

“I pinch your thigh.” It’s almost embarrassing, how easily she can recite the terms he lays out each time.

But he turns her, directing her forward toward the desk. Standing as she lowers herself, a hand splaying against her back. “That’s my good girl.”

There’s a whine at the praise, unable to hold back from it before he delivers a sharp smack to her still covered, right cheek.

Fingers rub over the spot, before curling against the hem of her pants. Dragging them down, she feels his lips against the stinging skin. A peck, before his chin rests against her lower back, fingers kneading the soft skin of her ass. “Count them out, Ivy. And remember your manners.”

“One.” A pause, to swallow her desire. “Thank you, sir.”

He answers her by standing back up and giving her another swat. One on her left cheek this time. Followed by two more, waiting until she counts and thanks him each time. The next one hits sharply at her right cheek, lower than the others, at where her ass meets her thigh. It stings, even as he rubs a finger over it.

The next two are even harder, meant to make her squeal against the desk, to have her legs tremble. It’s harder to keep quiet, as she does her best to count. To mind her manners like he had asked.

To be a good girl for him. Janna, she wants to be so good for him. To earn that wonderful praise, to earn the way he’ll make her cum hard enough to see stars later.

The next one is a hard smack, that leaves her gasping and eyes stinging. What’s worse is how his hand presses against it. “Did that one hurt, my dear? Your skin is so warm here.”

The answer comes out as a near sob. “Yes.”

“Do I need to stop?”

A tremble then against the desk. Her cunt soaking should be answer enough for him, but it’s like he’s pretending that he can’t see it. “No. Please, keep going.”

His fingers rub over the warm spot. “Anything else to say?”

A flush, turning her head to meet his gaze. His eyes are still hot, almost wild. “Thank you, sir. That was nine.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice, carrying over her, as he draws his hand slowly, letting his nails drag along her skin. “Good girl.”

The final smack comes next, and she’s left gasping, legs trembling. It was lighter, but the sensation of so many has her trying to find her footing. Not that Silco gives her a break, tugging down her pants further, having her step out of them. “Kick off your shoes.” She does, earning praise in the form of a kiss on her shoulder.

He tucks his arm around her waist as he steps away, dragging her back up with him. Her shirt is next to come off.

On Thursdays, she knew better than to wear a bra or panties, unless he specifically bought her some for the occasion. Silco had never learned patience in these matters, having a tendency to tear or rip clothing away during their playtime. Once, he had even used a knife to cut the band of her panties, dragging the flat edge of the blade along her skin with care and skill.

It would be something to ask later, she always told herself, as she was reminded of that blade.

There’s a kiss, harsh, a hand digging into her dark hair. Crushing her body against him, as he dominated her mouth. A whimper when he parts, gets him to kiss her again, eyes blazing at the noise.

“Silco,” the woman whispers, as he pulls away. But he doesn’t meet her for a kiss again, his hands moving to her shoulders. The gentle pressure he applies is all it takes to get her on her knees.

She raises her hands to unbutton him when she could hear it. Footsteps. Not that it matters, the door was locked, no one could-

The handle turns, and she presses her back to the desk drawers at the noise on instinct, hiding behind them.

The click of the handle when she had turned it. She had unlocked the fucking door.

Silco turns, caught off guard as the door opens. And though she can’t see who it is, she has a good guess of who it was based on his scowl. “Whatever do I owe the pleasure, Finn?”

He sits down, nudging her with his foot, towards the space under his desk. She takes the hint, quickly sliding her naked body underneath as silently as she could. Her legs curled under her, and trying not to hiss from how much her ass hurt, she did her best to settle there.

Her clothes are nudged next, and she uses them under her knees as some sort of cushioning. For however long she’ll be stuck under here. Hopefully not too long.

“Silco.” The name is said with open displeasure, with a slight lisp. “You’ve been ignoring my messages.”

“I have other matters to attend to than just your messages, Finn.” His chair tucks in, just enough that she can still see his face. His knees in front of her, legs spread.

She can see the bulge in his pants, and her mouth begins to salivate.

God, this was going to be torture.

“Like what? Paperwork?”

His hand comes down, to rest on his thigh. Her eyes are drawn to it, watching how his fingers tap against it. The way his thumb curls, into his palm at Finn’s words. “This paperwork, Finn, is something necessary. Perhaps you could get a dose of maturity to understand that, as you are now in a leadership position.”

The tone scratches at her belly, cold instead of heat. Actual annoyance, that has her fingers, the flesh ones, sliding over his thigh until they touch his hand. Gently taking it, she can feel him relax, if only slightly while the other man is in the room.

“I came here to discuss territory. What is mine by right.”

Ivy can see his grimace and lifts his hand. Pressing kisses to the back of it, his tone changes slightly. Rougher but not as angry. “You have yet to have proven what is yours by right.” A small pause, before his lips twitch upwards. “You seem to have trouble understanding the consequences of your actions.”

The word goes straight to her cunt. The bastard.

She takes a finger and grazes her lips over it. In imitation of something else. Whatever Finn said next was lost, as his movement is immediate. Thumb hooking into her mouth and her teeth react on instinct. Just barely sinking into the flesh.

The scratch of her teeth barely earns her a twitch of his lips. Not even a slight emote beyond that, he simply rests his thumb in her mouth. His other hand raises almost casually to touch his chin, dragging along it in a familiar gesture.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to bite my hand, Finn? After all of these wonderful scraps, I’ve been feeding you.” His thumb presses upwards, dragging along the edge of her teeth. Enough force in the action to have her pause. “I could make it harder for you.”

Very slowly, she held her mouth further open. Her eyes widened as she felt his thumb run over her front teeth, slowly as though inspecting each tooth, until he moved upwards to drag it over her upper lip. Tracing her open mouth with an almost thoughtful, slow touch.

Whatever Finn said was going missed, gone to focus on what he was doing. Each action is meticulous, each word holding a double meaning.

She hates how much his words have such control over her, even when they aren’t directly to her. Loathes how she sucks the next time he slides his thumb into her mouth, tongue licking at the pad of it.

Almost in apology.

“If you want to get a reward from me, Finn. You’re going to have to try harder than that. The basics won’t cover it.” The thumb is gone, hand moving back to trace over the edge of his waistband. Tucking his chair in a little more, further obstructing the view of the other chembaron. “Sit down, Finn. We’ll discuss until the matter is taken care of.”

His fingers brush over the golden buttons. Green eyes widen, flicking between the edge of the chin she can only just see now, and then back to his hand. It moves, going over to the top corner, and unclasping it with enough quiet to barely make a sound.

It’s gone then, coming to rest on the desk along with the other. Briefly, Finn’s voice can be heard, but she’s not focusing on it enough to make it more than his annoyed, chipped tone.

It’s unfair that Silco knows her so well; that he knows the perfect way to tempt her. How easily he opens a locked door as though he’d always had the key, unlocking her inner wants.

Shame coils with the heat in her stomach, as she leans forward. Hands, organic and synthetic, rest on his knees. Thumbs brush over the joint slowly, a little more awkwardly with her ceramic hand vs her tried and true, but there is no hint that he’s disappointed. Silco always seemed to actually approve more when she’d use the hand he gifted her.

Probably some possession kink she was a part of. Not that she would complain if she was.

She was practically his already.

Using her left hand, she draws a finger over the seam of his pants. Slowly, enough to have his legs shift. A small smile at that, fingers ghosting over the buttons, as she takes her time to undo them with one hand, listening closely.

“You’ve almost reached your target.” Silco’s voice was smooth, with no hint of a reaction as her fingers started to work over his suit.

“You keep raising the target, making it harder and harder to reach.” Finn’s voice is a whine. Barely a distraction in her efforts.

“Because you are doing it wrong, Finn. My targets are easy to reach if you use the right tilt of your hand.”

The amused curl to his words did not go past her, but Ivy’s glad he wasn’t able to see the eye roll she gave. She understood, finishing undoing the buttons. Pulling down the flap, and then gently running a finger over his cock.

To her surprise he’s half-hard, twitching under her touch. His arms shift above her, stretching out slightly. Commenting something about taking the project in hand, that has her drawing his dick out of his pants.

It’s red at the tip, but not leaking. Another twitch as she curls her hand around it. Taking the project in hand, she could do that. And then she could do more, as she began to flick her wrist slowly; twisting and curling.

Enough to have one of his arms fall to his side, staying still for a moment, before the hand slowly made its way under the desk, fingers spread, Ivy leaned into his touch when it was offered. Fingers spread over her face, while his thumb went back to tracing over her lips, before following the curve of her cheekbone. A soft sigh rose out of her throat before cutting it off, her heart racing.

Fuck. Shit.

The thumb presses against the apple of her cheek, hard enough to start to squeeze her face a little.

Janna, she wanted more. It sent heat down to her core, but if it was shame or lust, well, it didn’t matter at the moment to dissect it. Only to let him drag her head in front of his dick, letting go of her face to raise into her hair. Toying, not grabbing, not yet anyway.

Ivy isn’t stupid, knowing to twist her hand a little faster. Pump him a little more, to have his legs shift in reaction.

She knows what he likes.

“I wonder how long you’re going to last with that attitude, Finn. You know that jaw could have so much better uses than to filter out your noise.”

Now his fingers curl, wrapping locks of hair between them so he can pull her forward. Mouth meeting the underside of his cock, holding her there for a moment to drag her lips against the length of him. Letting her taste his pulse, felt even here, as he set a rhythm for her lips.

Her fingers uncurl, and his follow suit. Moving to tuck a piece of hair carefully behind her ear, tracing the shell of it with his index finger. Her lips part, moving forward to drag the flat of her tongue over him.

Finn was saying something. It didn’t matter, her focus was on the man before her. His voice comes in clearly, while her mouth works him. “Are you sure about that? Willing to take all that responsibility?” She drags her tongue up and down quickly, and he gives a dry chuckle, barely a laugh. “Go ahead then. Take it.”

The words are directed at her as much as they are at Finn. A kiss to the tip first, gentle and soft that has him twitch beneath her. Then another, and another before her lips part, unable to even find her own thoughts against this very bad idea. An idea she should’ve hated, but-

He’s warm in her mouth, already stretching her jaw as she takes the thick head between her lips. Trying to keep her seal tight, to attempt to keep quiet. An experimental bob, one that takes him to the back of her mouth.

“Don’t be too over eager, Finn. You might choke if you’re not careful.”

Her eyes roll before she continues at her pace. Slow and steady. Listening carefully to his words for direction.

Has her moving her mouth to press open kisses against his shaft. Give him kitten licks to the tip. Running the tip of her tongue along his sack, while her hand jerks him.

The soft movement of his hand encouraged her each time. Silent praise that sits heavily in her core until Ivy is sure she’s dripping onto her thighs.

He’s back in her mouth, after what must’ve been half an hour of her following his direction, always letting up whenever he was about to cum. Drawing her mouth away from him sometimes even, to force her to watch, paying attention to his words, as his cock leaked pre-cum openly.

The hand tightens when she takes him a little bit deeper. Relaxing her throat, she lets him hit the back of it. Drawing a little further, she’s getting better at taking him-

And then the bastard leans forward, dragging her head with him. Caught off guard, she chokes and gags. A sound he covers up with a cough, prepared for the moment. Her eyes sting tears quickly forming.

He’s not letting go. Silco holds her in place, until she feels the soft little thrusts, so small she almost mistook them for twitches. But the pattern and pace were undeniable of what it was.

Her hands grip his thighs but don’t pinch. Just a little longer, she tells herself, breathing through her nose.

When he leans back, she’s dragged with him. The hand tugs her forward until her nose brushes hair drool slipping past her lips now, and she can feel it land on her bare breasts.

He holds her there, even as blackness edges into the field of her vision. Grips her head so tightly, that she's starting to gag. The noise is barely muffled, as there are steps towards the door. Silco calling out to make sure the other man shut it on the way out.

Ivy doesn't push at his knees. Doesn't attempt to get herself off of him. More tears are sliding down her cheeks, as she does her best to be good for him. To take it like a good girl.

She wanted to be his good girl so badly, that she was still dripping as he practically choked her on his cock.

Once the door closes, he rolls his chair back. His cock slips from her mouth, and she gasps for air once he's out. The fingers in her hair don't let go, don't let her hide her face away from his view.

In fact, once her breath is caught, she can feel his eyes running over it. Over her chin slick with drool, and tear-covered cheeks. Over her breasts, she remembers are bare for him to see. And shining with drool and sweat.

Her eyes glance away, and he’s quick to regain her attention. His free hand moves to cup her jaw, gently guiding her to meet his gaze.

The smile he gives is one that is private, the one she only sees. One that showed how pleased he was, and the sight sent a jolt right to her cunt. "If I had known you liked sucking me off during office hours so much, maybe I'd let you finish off your shifts under my desk." His fingers trace over her jaw and she waits.

So does he, the tender smile growing sharper as she presses her thighs together. Her voice a whine. "Please, sir."

"Please, what? What do you want, Ivy?" Ask and she would receive as his fingers continue to gently play along her jaw. Not even minding her drool.

In fact, she dared to say he loved the sight. "Please, sir." Her gaze lowers, just for a moment and his soft touch turns hard. Gripping her jaw, her gaze falls back onto his own, and he lets go just enough to let her speak. "Can I finish the job?"

Silco works his words over in his cheek before saying them aloud. "No. Not yet." His gaze was hot, and a quick glance down, she could see his cock twitch at whatever he was thinking. "And not in your mouth."

The next question comes with a tremble, a need for that reassurance. "Did I do good, sir?"

His touch goes softer, both hands moving to cup a side of her face. Thumbs swiping up the last of her tears. "Very good." Leaning forward, he rewards with a peck on her forehead, something so soft and subtle, yet it burns.

Silco pulls away, still cupping her face as he has them both rise. Holding her gaze as fingers drag off of her cheeks, and onto her shoulders, before trailing over her arms.

Lingering along the skin, dragging over even where the skin meets the synthetic in a sweet caress, a careful but almost loving touch over it. She remembers the last time her sleeve was off and the way his lips had been pressing gentle kisses to her stump. Refusing to allow her to push him away, as he ensured she understood his most important rules.

When her eyes flutter close at the sensation, he reminds her of those rules. Leaning in close to press his mouth to the curve of her ear, she has to stop her legs from trembling. "What are you, Ivy?"

"Alive." That one comes easiest.

Both hands collect each of her own, sliding his fingers through to lock them to his own. "What else are you?"

Her cheeks warm at the second one, but only just a bit. "Beautiful."

There's a smile on his face, pleased once more."Yes. Always beautiful." A kiss just beneath her ear now, another following along her cheek as her eyes open to see him. He was so close, hands still holding her own. "Last one, Ivy, and then you'll get your reward."

Her cheeks are red now, she can tell from the heat that’s burning off of them. Not from embarrassment, no, but let him think that. Don't let him see how much more it is. "Yours."

He hums before his hands move. Sliding from her own, and resting on her hip, before drawing up further. Thumb just below the curve of her breast, tracing along the edge. Admiring her breasts openly.

A hand rises to cup one, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Lips don’t fall onto her own, a graze is all she gets before he descends to her throat. His palm rolls just so along her skin, before leaving it. Both hands move downwards, cupping her ass next, while his teeth graze over the side of her neck, only encouraging more marks as she sighs and cranes her head back.

It took a moment to remember, that he still had all his clothes on. And a quick glance down, to her disappointment, it meant he had also tucked himself away.

Not that she could be disappointed for long, not as Silco was pushing her backward, drawing that disappointment away with his actions, until her ass hit the desk. Hands grow rougher, as he lifts her onto it. Leaving her to simply look at her, before he lifts a hand back to her chest. Resting on her sternum for a moment, before his fingers spread over top of it.

The gentle pressure is all the command she needs, letting herself rest with her back against the desk. He lifts both legs, pressing his hands to the back of her knees, before tapping them. “Hold them up for me.”

She cannot stop her hands from shaking, as she lifts them to her legs. Holding herself open, Silco took the opportunity to stand back and look. Red and blue eyes on her pussy, wet already.

There wasn’t even a slight feeling of shame, not when he tapped her inner thighs, and she spread them more. Not even as a finger dipped down between her folds and it came back wet. No shame even as he met her gaze, and slid the finger into his mouth.

It did come when he popped it out. “I truly didn’t realize how much you enjoyed sucking me off like that. Usually, you need more teasing to get this wet.” His gaze fell away, as he stepped to open a drawer nearby. “Though it’s not entirely unexpected from you, my dear.”

Her brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

The drawer closes, and he comes back into view. One black leather glove slid over his hand, fingers wiggling in the air for a moment to ensure they were secured. He answers her, as he draws on the other gloves. “It means, my sweet, that you are filthy.” Covered hands land on her thighs. “A slut. But not for just anyone.”

It’s not even a question. He knows, just as well as she does.

She’s his. His slut, his whore, as rare as he’d call her those things. But it’s sound knowledge between them both.

Leather-wrapped fingers draw between her legs, resting just above her slit. Fingers spreading, as it inches ever so slowly downwards.“No, you’re mine.” His hand shifts, letting two fingers draw down over her slit, the other pressing on her thigh. “I could pound your pretty little throat in front of everyone downstairs.” His thumb presses to her entrance, rubbing over it. “Fill your cunt at my next meeting.”

The image of her doing that, in front of him, it’s enticing but - “They don’t need to see.” The words slip off of her tongue, a soft objection, gazing up at him as he pauses his movements to let her speak. “I just want to be yours.”

His gaze is hard, holding her still for a moment before he presses his thumb inside of her. Sliding the covered digit all the way to the hilt. The moan she gave wasn’t muted, raising a hand to quickly cover her mouth. Only for it to be dragged away, as he held her wrist.

Pressing closer, so he could lean over her as he began to pump his thumb in and out of her. Breath matching her own, soft little pants. Though hers had significantly more whines to it.

It gets him to laugh, soft, warm and deep from his chest. “Such lovely noises. Never hide them.”

“But-”

His finger taps her wrist. “Do you want a reward or another punishment?”

She gasps, his thumb changing to an angle that he knew would have her eyes rolling back. Back arching off of the desk slightly. “R-Reward. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please Silco.”

That earns her a growl, hands withdrawing from her. He steps from her legs, raising the wet leather to lick her juices off of it. A whimper rises in her throat as she watches, his mouth curling into a knife with how his grin slices into her.

Yet he only sits, undoing his trousers, to reveal his hard cock once more. Holding it at the base, blue and red eyes are simple pools of heat as they gaze at her. “Come here, Ivy.”

She approaches him embarrassingly quickly. Even on her shaking legs, straddling him. Any more teasing would be too much. “Please, Sir”

“Sit.”

She does, he lines himself up to her entrance. And both groan as she slides down onto him.

The urge to bounce, to ride him is strong. But he only gives her approval when she doesn’t. Fingers lifted to her cheek, drawing her in for another kiss. Softer and quicker this time and followed with a command. “Put your hands behind your back.”

She does, panting while her nose brushes against his own. A murmur, pleading. “Silco.”

Gloved hands grasp her ass, squeezing before dragging down to just below them. Grasping her thighs and lifting her just enough, a few inches or two.

And then he starts to fuck her.

Hard. Unrelenting.

Practically pounding into her, there’s no time to wait. His teeth bared right in front of her, as she leans her face forward, dark hair fanning out around the two of them. Green eyes unable to look away from blue and red, as he fucks her within an inch of her life.

It wasn’t fair how perfectly he could work her. It was extra not fair how perfect he fit inside of her.

It had her sobbing, whimpering against his mouth. Noises he swallows as he nips or kisses her between pants and between his words.

“So gorgeous. So perfect. All for me. All mine.” Those growled against her mouth, teeth nipping. “Going to fill you. My Ivy.”

Her heart flutters at those words, and it’s too much. Everything is suddenly too much.

Cock sliding against that one spot, to have her start sobbing. Her body aches, and she’s been so pent up. Unable to comprehend until now, how badly she needed this. Trying not to focus on how his cock is pressing against her perfectly, to try and hold back from her impending orgasm. “Silco!”

“Cum for me, Ivy.” He brings her back down, enough to get even deeper inside of her. Groaning as he feels her tighten around him. “That’s it. My good girl.”

She can only cry his name when it happens, half sobbing it, as she cums. Toes curling and thighs quivering.

He kisses her neck, moving away from her face as he buries his own. Bringing her down into his lap hard, pressing so fully inside of her, before he cums too. Filling her just as he said he would.

Both of them are panting. Ivy is the first to move, she withdraws her arms from her back. Draping herself over him, not bothering to pull him out, while his hands raise to loosely hold her. Running his fingers over her back, in soft comfort before he’ll carry her to their shared bedroom.

Silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s touch. A thought only jolting Ivy for a moment out of it. “The door is unlocked.”

Silco’s finger paused, and then he was lifting her off of him. Both groaning at the feeling.

His cum was already leaking out of her, much to the redness of her cheeks.

Her partner is lifting her then, having her legs rest loosely against his waist, while he maneuvered them both into the private bedroom. Making sure to shut the door behind him with his foot, before laying her on the bed. Quick to join her, and curl her to his chest. “Do you want to bathe?”

“Not yet.” It was a sleepy mumble, green eyes glancing up at him through her eyelashes. A small smile. “Can we stay like this for a while? Just a little?”

Something is there in his eyes, small but bright and warm, but not heated. It can’t be named but doesn’t leave as he carefully brushes her hair out of her face. “Five minutes. Then we’ll clean up, and I’ll look you over.”

“Snacks?”

His lips twitch, and that small emotion in his eyes seems to grow. “Yes. Snacks too, my dear.”

“More cuddles?”

“You’re pushing it now.”

A giggle is her response before she rests her head on his chest. Exhausted, but feeling almost giddy with how amazing tonight had been. Even with its… mishap, she decided to name Finn’s intrusion.

Laying on his chest, feeling his hands caress her body with delicacy and care. It was almost easy to fall asleep. Almost she missed his next words, as his lips brushed over her head. Could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Next time, I think I’ll be the one under the desk.”

#i had to use the linebreak images because editor is broken #silco x ivy #silvy #silco x oc #arcane x oc #silco #arcane

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

Note

drabble request: silvy go for ice cream and silco wipes the ice cream off her mouth(with his mouth?? maybe??) i want soft silvy lol

☆sher

Make Me Melt

[silco x oc] [silco/ivy (silvy)] [suggestive] [d/s undertones] [3.1k words] [not canon to a helping hand]

It was Jinx’s idea. Or maybe ‘demand’ was the right word.

“I want ice cream.”

Perhaps just a very assertive statement.

“We have ice cream in the freezer,” Silco murmured, not even looking away from his papers, making another note.

Jinx twisted to shoot a look at Ivy, and the woman attempted to keep up with the movement, still holding the unfinished braid in her hands.

“Not done yet,” her prosthesis squeezed the kid’s shoulder. At Jinx’s pout, she added. “Also, he’s right; a whole tub of vanilla ice cream, you literally had some last night.” The kid’s memory was very short when she felt like it.

Feet kicked up on the table, toes wobbling back and forth impatiently, Jinx rolled her eyes. “Vanilla.”

The scorn was palpable, and so reminiscent of Silco that Ivy found herself sandwiching lips between her teeth to keep from smirking. Eyes flicking up to the man in question, she spotted the ghost of a smirk on his lips as well, even if his eyes (and presumably attention) were supposedly still on work.

“I don’t want vanilla, though, I want…” Blue brows furrowed, lips pursed in concentration even as Ivy hurriedly finished the braid, and started cinching down the spiked wrap on top.

Knowing Jinx’s bizarre tastes, Ivy dryly suggested, “Chocolate pickle chip?”

“I want chocolate pickle chip.”

Wincing a little that her joking suggestion was adopted, Ivy chided herself. Hubris, really. Could’ve seen that coming.

“Chocolate pickle chip isn’t an option, Jinx,” Silco informed her, smoothly.

“Ivyyyy.” Jinx tilted her head all the way back to look at the woman who’d been doing her hair for the last forty minutes.

“You sound like a bee when you whine,” Ivy informed her, finishing up her task. “Eeeeeee,” she imitated, brushing the end of a blue braid over the kid’s shoulder and poking the tip at the nape of her neck until she squealed and squirmed, snatching her hair back and snorting a laugh.

“But I want it.”

“Damn, too bad we don’t always get what we want, huh?” Ivy grinned. Jinx’s melodramatic pained expression made her snicker, but her resolve was already crumbling. “Ask Silco, bet he knows someone who’ll make it.”

Glancing at the man in question netted her a droll look that screamed don’t encourage her. Ivy merely smiled in faux-innocence. Lifted brows taunted him. What, like it’s a lie? You definitely do.

That hellfire eye slid back to the child in question, and a moment later he sighed. “Very well. You may ask Orid to find someone that can provide-”

“We should go to a parlor,” Jinx proposed, matter of factly.

“We?” It was Ivy’s turn to question.

“Yeah. The three of us.”

A brief silence hit the room, both adults stiffening.

Green eyes warily glanced to her boss as Ivy rubbed her palms along her thighs, clearing her throat awkwardly. How exactly was she supposed to tell the kid that such an outing felt a step too far away from professional, or even the mockery of professionalism that let them hide behind closed doors? The kid didn’t know of the— well, whatever it was that hummed between the two adults when they were alone, and Ivy wasn’t about to tell her.

Shit.

Her stomach sank. The look he was fixing her with was curious. Then considering. Then devious.

Shit shit shit.

Dammit, she should’ve pushed for it, then he would’ve felt contrary enough to deny her. But now it was very clear that he’d picked a side, and in doing so became the one in control of this situation. Which, apparently, meant it was totally fine to go around crossing boundaries, so long as he was the one doing it. Her eyes narrowed and lips pursed, knowing what he’d say before he even spoke.

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Jinx.”

—

“This is ridiculous.”

“Hmm, yes.”

Ivy grimaced as she stayed in step with Silco, eyes trained on the twelve-year-old scampering ahead of them. Heat burned on the back of her neck. “Do we really need an entire posse?” The words were murmured under her breath with flat skepticism as she glanced to the bodyguards— one ahead, and one just back and to the side of their little party.

“Before, you suggested that I was in need of protection, and now you find it unnecessary? You can’t protect all of us, my dear.”

Her cheeks flushed at the patronizingly dismissive pejorative. “That’s— It’s—” He was right, it was hypocritical, but both options felt bad. Either they were left alone, and she felt anxious over the safety of both man and child, or they were left with two very obvious witnesses to this outing that was feeling more and more like a date with every step she was by his side instead of guarding his back.

“Ivy.” Silco’s tone managed to be casual at the same time as it brokered no argument. “If I want your opinion on my security detail, I will ask for it.”

The smooth confidence wrapped around her chest and squeezed and she nearly tripped over her own feet, mouth snapping shut and eyes training themselves on the ground to ensure she stayed upright for the final block to the ice cream parlor.

She did trip over her feet when his hand pressed to the small of her back once they reached the shop, leaving her stumbling over the threshold and glaring over her shoulder at his barely hidden self-satisfaction.

Ten minutes later she was still irritated, glaring at that minuscule curve to his lips that gave away his sadistic glee over her inability to function in his presence. Dick.

Jinx had managed to convince the creamery manager to make her request - although the look on his face was sheer pain at the idea - and the adults had each taken their own single scoop cones with looks either apologetic or outright malicious toward the poor proprietor.

“…I’m not sure if this is abusing your power, or just being an over-indulgent parent,” Ivy muttered, bitterly, narrowed eyes watching Jinx and one of the bodyguards disappear into the mixing room as she closed lips over the tip of her cone— and immediately pulled a face. Salty, very salty, probably should’ve gone for the sides rather than the sprinkle of flakes that marked her salted dark chocolate peanut butter cone. Her tongue swept around the outer curve of the scoop in a desperate attempt to make up for the mouthful of sea salt.

“Guardian,” Silco corrected, his own licks more methodical and efficient, focusing on preventing any melted ice cream from dripping free of the cone. “She’s not my daughter.”

Ivy’s lips pressed tight, brow raised skeptically. Yes she is.

His eyes locked with hers, held them for a moment. He didn’t need to say a word as his gaze broke sideways, eyelid lowered and examining the napkin dispenser on their tiny high-topped table. Jinx doesn’t think that. So he’d respect her choice.

Something in Ivy’s chest tugged, a little resonating empathy. It must hurt, to be denied that title. That endearment. Her own brows pulled together, hurt on his behalf, even if he never showed it. Never even hinted at it. Too respectful of Jinx to push for anything else, or make her feel uncomfortable by labeling their relationship as anything more meaningful than guardian and ward. Ouch.

A short huffed breath from Silco as he systematically did another round of his cone dismissed the unspoken topic.

Ivy’s eyes dropped to his ice cream, its green hue making her lips purse. “Pistachio.” She pulled a face. “More like pretentio. …s.”

Silco’s scoff was strong enough to shake his chest, disbelieving. “…Truly, my dear, your eloquence abounds.” The desert-dry sarcasm sizzled in the air.

Green eyes rolled. “‘My dear,’” she mocked. The short huff of skeptical laughter was directed, like her gaze, at the wall.

Which meant she only saw the slightest shift from the corner of her eye before his boot wedged between hers, hooking against the crossbar of her stool and tugging it closer to the narrow table in one swift move.

It was like all sound in the world went out except the frantic panicked beat of her heart, eyes gone wide and jaw slack. Like he’d ramped up his aura in a single instant, and she was left reeling. She was suddenly very aware that they were alone in the shop for the time being, with Jinx busy with the tour and the batch-making process, and one bodyguard with her and the other outside the front door.

Alone. With him.

“Is there something else you’d prefer?” It was said so casually, briefly meeting her wide eyes with his simmering look before returning his attention to his cone. Ivy watched the soft licks between words. “You’d rather I call you pet? An obedient little pup?”

Her neck burned, head spinning, gaze shifting between his smooth words and careful tongue, and the heated look he occasionally brought back up to meet hers.

“Maybe,” he suggested smoothly, ankle hooking around hers, knee nudging hers open, “you would prefer toy?”

The flush heated her whole chest, up her neck, turning her cheeks and ears pink. “I—” She choked, jumping as a hand she hadn’t noticed under the table rested on her knee. Thank fucking gods she wasn’t wearing a skirt today.

“No, you’re right,” he mused, though she hadn’t even managed two words to contradict him; “You want something softer, don’t you?”

Wide eyes stared, breath shallow and at a loss for words as his thumb stroked the inside curve of her knee. Pupils blown out, her heart fluttered in her chest, even as something twisted unpleasantly in her gut, dreading his implication.

“What will it be, Ivy?” His words dangerously smooth, murmured between licks while his free hand claimed its place on her leg, firm grasp and gentle rubbed circles. “Sweetling? Dove?”

It churned in her gut, the words stinging. Her brows furrowed.

“Cherub?” It was practically a sneer.

It felt mean.

…So why did she like it?

“No, I don’t think you want flowery praises, my dear.” Silco hummed, a noise like the purr of a predator, and his grip tightened, sliding her forward until she was on the edge of her seat, the knee between her legs suddenly very noticeable. Practically falling onto the small table they shared. “I think…”

She shivered as his hand curved, thumb tracing a line up her inner thigh that had her ready to crumble.

“You need a firm hand…”

Fucking gods, his hand.

“And just enough praise to encourage good behavior.”

Ivy swallowed hard, swaying a little as his grip retreated, fingers raking down to her knee. And waiting there. The threat of a whine hummed on her tongue before she quickly stifled it. Too late. The smug little hook to his lips made it very clear he’d noticed. Words he didn’t even need to speak hissed in her mind, the familiar mocking praise; so responsive. Goosebumps broke out across skin.

Finally he broke eye contact, glancing down. “You’re making a mess.”

A short little hiccup of panic caught in her throat as Ivy looked down to find her ice cream half melted, spilling over her prosthesis. Cheeks burned, mortified that she’d just sat there watching him and letting the stupid thing be affected by stupid temperature and stupid melt.

Hurriedly, she made one attempt at licking around the rim of the cone, only to find Silco’s eyes on her, brows raised. Eyes quickly broke sideways, but when she slid back to stand, his ankle hooked around hers squeezed as well as his hand on her knee. But his brows merely raised in casual challenge as he crunched into his own nearly-finished cone, watching hers expectantly.

She could refuse. She knew she could, could pull back and stand up and walk straight to the washroom and get the sticky cream off of her ceramic hand without making a big deal of it. But there was a tantalizing prospect here…

Eyes on Silco, she efficiently ran her tongue along the curve of the cone, pressing hard enough to neaten up the slumping melt of it. If her mind went elsewhere as she spun the cone in her (admittedly, slightly clumsy) prosthetic grip, that was entirely by chance. Sliding the flat of her tongue up the length of the cone to tidy up the dribbled melt. Lifting one finger to suck clean. Scooping another mouthful with her tongue. In what felt like no time at all, she was crunching into her own cone, and then it was gone.

She gave him an expectant look. Ta-dah, did the thing.

His smirk brought back the blush, both because she expected it, and because she knew he knew how much she wanted to hear it— “Good girl.”

An immediate rush through her system, even as he gave her a patronizing pat on the knee and pulled away enough for her to free herself.

If he noticed the way she swayed slightly when getting to her feet, he said nothing. And Ivy just focused on getting to the sink in the washroom to clean off her prosthesis.

Halfway through her task, he strolled in like it was totally normal to have two people in a single-patron washroom. After her brief glance over her shoulder, she dutifully returned to her washing, figuring the faster she finished the more easily she could avoid anything awkward.

As if it were an everyday occurrence, Silco slid in beside her, rinsing his hands as well, even as Ivy shuffled aside, and pulled back, going for the towel.

“Wait.” It wasn’t a request, but a command.

Ivy hesitated. Whether intentionally, or unintentionally, she obeyed. Silco cut in to retrieve the hand towel, drying his hands, offered her the towel, and then oh so casually placed a leg in a spot that blocked any easy retreat.

Alone. Only this time… smaller room. No windows. No witnesses.

Heart hammering in undeniable anticipation, Ivy took a step back from the blocked path out. And found her hip bumping the wall.

The hint of a smile toying at the ragged edge to his lip made her stomach flip over itself, even as he took another step closer, backing her up against the wall as she unthinkingly dried her hands, gaze tracing the planes of his face, his expression, over and over again.

“Missed a spot,” he muttered wickedly, fingers sliding into her hair in a way that made her knees go all jelly as he cupped her face. His thumb brushed a point along her lip.

She would’ve sworn it was fake - just a play to touch her mouth - but sure enough there was something sticky left on the thumb that brushed the seam of her lips. He hardly had to murmur a low “open,” before she was sucking the digit into her mouth, tongue swiping the curve and lips humming against his skin.

A low groan pulled in his chest as he slid his thumb from her mouth, running it across her slackened lip. He closed her in further, leaning down, head tilting until his forehead touched hers.

Ivy shivered. Weak breath tickled his wet thumb, her eyelids feeling too heavy and surroundings oppressively intimate. So much, so close. It was addictive, having him like this; overwhelming her senses until all she saw, all she smelled, all she felt was him.

Heart a rapid drumbeat caught between her chest and her throat, she was thankful for the wall supporting her when his next hum made her knees go weak and eyes flutter shut. “Good girl.”

Silco’s praise fueled her. She lived for it. And with his face so close, breath a tantalizing breeze down her neck, she was vital, her whole body lit up and thrumming.

Please. Her words were trapped mid-transit from brain to mouth, but she felt the need that pulled a whine from her.

His free hand cupping her waist drew another soft noise of surprise and want, and Ivy could feel the wicked delight curving his lips even with her eyes closed. Maybe because they were so close. So close. His leg slotted between hers, the air between them charged with sparks and heat.

The towel in her hands dropped to the floor as his lips met hers, her grip tightening in his jacket reflexively.

She yielded so quickly to his kiss— shamefully quickly— melting just like the sweet cream she could taste on his tongue. Pulling him to her as their mouths joined, that desperate craving flared up in an instant, wanting him closer, tighter, more.

His own noise - some primal thing, like a growl or a purr, or perhaps both at once - raised the hair on the back of her neck, skin too tight all over. Pulling back just enough to scrape teeth against her lip, he delved right back in, the hand on her face sliding back to grip in her hair in a move that made her whimper.

The man tasted like pistachio and chocolate and his own complex flavor she knew she’d need to taste again in this very same combination. The bastard was going to make her change her ice cream order, chasing this taste.

Fingers squeezed the curve of her waist before sliding to her back, and Ivy arched into him with a moan, one leg hitching around his as her own mouth became increasingly aggressive.

She felt ready to combust when Silco pulled away a second later.

“Just let me-” kiss you, was what she wanted to say, wanted to argue, but his hand pressed gently against her lips, silencing her. Hazy eyes took a moment to register that his attention had shifted to the door.

Interrupted.

Of fucking course they’d get interrupted, just her damned luck.

Feeling spiteful, she swiped her tongue against the palm over her mouth.

The look he shot her was only amused— well, amused and just a touch sinful.

“I appreciate the demonstration, Ivy,” he turned to murmur in her ear, “but I think now is perhaps not the best time.”

Her cheeks burned, unsure if she wanted to push him away or, more likely, drop to her knees and make him deny that little theory.

Any attempt to speak was muffled by his hand, so she glared.

“Later,” he promised. “We’ll finish this later.”

It was always later.

Apparently her annoyance was entertaining to him. His soft huff of amusement came as he broke eye contact to untangle himself from her, still keeping his hand over her mouth for a moment until he seemed sure she wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Go,” he jerked his chin toward the door. “Make sure the child doesn’t make herself sick.”

As much as Ivy loved Jinx, she could give the kid a solid flick in the forehead right about now. Cockblock.

Silco’s sharp smile was devilish. “Later,” he reiterated, turning to head for the sink.

Ivy rolled her eyes, letting out a frustrated breath, but straightened herself and went for the door.

Silco needed more than a minute to do the same.

—

[Thanks for this absolutely adorable prompt sher XD Hopefully this meets your expectations 😈

I will probably end up putting this on ao3 eventually, but for now it’s tumblr-only. Because it’s not /reader, and not canon to the fic, the usual tag list doesn’t apply, but it fits in that same category as @insult-2-injury ’s Taking the Shot, with named characters. If people want to be tagged in these things… let me know, I guess? I don’t want to push named OCs on anyone 😅

If you liked it, please feel free to share, comment, all those lovely things! And if you have other prompts you want to see, or questions to ask, my inbox is always open! ❤️ -verbs]

@of-the-argonath for you bb 😘

#silco #silco arcane #silco x oc #silco x f!oc #silco x ivy #silvy #ivy #wip:a helping hand #x-amount-writes #silco x reader

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thesaltybuns · 2 years

Text

Was commissioned by the lovely @x-amount-verbs to illustrate her reader OC Ivy from her salacious Silco x OC fic A Helping Hand. If you relish anticipation, characters with lots of substance, and crime dads with domineering dispositions then look no further bc this is the fic for you!

(you should also check out this extra fluffy piece she wrote about the plant dad Silco I drew while back it's so cute!)

#commission #oc commission #silco x oc #a helping hand #silco fanfic

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insult-2-injury · 2 years

Text

Taking the Shot

A gift for the lovely @x-amount-verbs- a massive, 6.5K smutty one-shot inspired by her brilliant story, A Helping Hand. (If you're not reading it, I don't know what you're doing). Big thanks to her for allowing me to put her OC, Ivy, into some very compromising positions.

[Silco x f!oc (using helping hand reader/OC)] [6.5K WC] [NSFW MDNI] [gun range setting] [Mirror Sex] [Fingering] [Facefucking] [Praise Kink] [Manhandling] [dom silco] [Lots of teasing] [Dirty talk] [Fluff at the end]

Note: gun target practice, no gun violence, no gunplay

Bang.

The gun recoiled in her hand.

An almost deranged smile stretched from where she’d bitten down on the center of her plump lips, joy rampaging through her chest like a wildfire as she hit her target dead center. An almost painful relief. Such a delicious welcome from the depression, the feelings of uselessness that had tightened their iron grip around her heart like a vise since the accident.

She could still do this.

Could still close her eyes and feel those subtle vibrations in the air, shifting like the plucks of tiny harp strings, carrying her bullet forward and straight into the heart of her victim. Which, in this case, was the top of a soup can, painted crudely in a neon green.

She was in a run down, abandoned textile warehouse on the outskirts of Zaun. The roof had caved in a long time ago. Decrepit place. Standing mirrors, dusty furniture, piles of unused fabrics were scattered haphazardly.

But Jinx had helped fix this movable target practice up, the funny little mastermind. She smiled to herself, thinking about the way the girl had sat there comically with a blowtorch and giant goggles, grinning ear to ear.

She’d hesitated when Jinx had proposed the idea. Had thought maybe this was too big of a step and too quickly. Mostly worried about her own self-doubts. Whether she would cripple when she found out she wasn’t that same talented sharpshooter as before.

But no. No. She was still good. Hadn’t lost a lick of that talent.

She revved up the machine again, transferred the gun to her prosthesis, closed one eye and watched the little targets rise, whir past. Adjusted her grip until she got that feeling.

And making quick work of it, she hit three more consecutively, something devilish about the way her stomach flipped and her lips curled.

“Impressive.”

She choked on a gasp, body stiffening. She would be able to recognize that crooning voice out of a line-up of hundreds. Thousands. How could she not when the sound had utterly consumed her thoughts as of late.

Like a rocket ship seconds before liftoff, her heart rate picked up to a swift patter before she even turned.

How long had he been standing there?

Silco was supposed to be out for the day on shimmer business. No therapy, no planned contact. She’d already mourned over the minor loss, for Janna’s sake. Something oddly indignant had her lips forming a thin line and, clutching the gun with a suddenly damp hand, she spun around finally.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she stuttered, feeling immediately stupid.

Silco’s lithe form leaned against the splintered door frame, hands in his pockets, something she’d come to recognize as dark amusement glittering in his eyes. He must have just returned from a business engagement because he was wearing that damned coat.

His gaze dropped sharply to her prosthesis.

“On the contrary, my dear.” Silco’s eyes flicked back up to hers. “I go wherever I please.”

He shouldn’t be out alone, without protection. No, she disciplined herself, not for the first time. He could take care of himself. She knew that.

“Jinx helped me set this up,” she offered, at a loss for words.

“She is who directed me here,” he said, brow quirking as he peeled from the door frame, beginning a slow saunter toward her. “And curiosity, I suppose.”

Oh, he was wearing gloves, she noticed right away, a blush beginning a heated track across her cheeks. She tried not to let her shameful gaze wander as she fought off every instinct to take a step back for each one of his forwards.

Because this wasn’t his office. This was entirely new territory.

“About?” she asked lightly, turning from his approaching form, lest he spot something in her expression that he shouldn’t.

It was supposed to be a surprise, she thought, that she’d taken to practicing. Well, with her gun, of course. She wanted to pout. She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need to perform tricks for the man.

But she wanted to, didn’t she? Wanted to impress him. Hated that she ached for that praise.

“Your progress, of course.”

She nodded, swallowing down the sudden dryness in her throat as he inspected the area, eyeing the crudely made moving targets, dragging two sinful fingers across the surface of a nearby table until he came to a halt in front of a gold-plated, full-length mirror, contemplating.

There was something… excitable about him tonight, a feverish energy prickling the air around him like a live wire.

Hm.

“Your meeting go well?”

Silco’s head canted just enough for her to see the slow, evil curl of his lips from the shadows.

“More than well.”

His crimson eye sharply tracked the movement of her violent shudder from over his shoulder before he turned on his heels, making his way back.

She couldn’t feign indifference anymore when his boots stopped inches away, looming over her.

Silco’s voice was soft, but the glint in his eye was a knowing one.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?”

She peered up from under her lashes and shrugged. Elected, instead, to stare intently at the silk tie that cinched his thin neck.

“I was planning on it.”

“Were you?” he asked, studying her a moment before stepping back, arms gesturing wide, flippant. “Demonstrate.”

Demonstrate… again?

She stared, unnerved. It was a pretty simple request, really, and it wasn’t as if it were the first time she’d been asked to perform for him. It was just different somehow,when these strange new boundaries seemed to be evolving, mutating by the second.

“Show me,” he repeated, eyes steady on hers, brooking no room for argument.

She turned to the whirring machine, a single target remaining. Her body felt alight with jitters, tremendously aware of the way his gaze stripped her down to her center, capturing and devouring her uneasiness like a cat with a mouse tucked beneath its paw.

She had 12 rounds. Nose twitching, she released a cleansing breath and took aim.

“Ivy,” he chided, and she grit her teeth.

They weren’t in his office. This wasn’t therapy.

She felt his searing satisfaction as she begrudgingly switched her gun to her prosthesis.

Closing one eye, she lined up her shot, peripheral vision blurring until the only thing down her sight was the moving target.

Her finger tightened on the trigger and-

She practically leapt out of her skin as something brushed across her back lightly, sending her shot firing upward. Whirling, she found Silco on her other side now, feet away, looking entirely unapologetic, fixing his glove.

“So sorry, do try again.”

She stared, unblinking, something irreparably destabilizing in the light touch of his hand, a cold shudder clanking down her spine.

11 rounds.

She could do this. Silco knew it, too, had been watching her for Janna knows how long before announcing his presence.

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed, adjusted her stance.

And shuddered. It never worked. Never. Whenever she had to try. No, she had to feel it. But all she could feel right now was that paralyzing gaze, much too close as it darted across the angles of her profile.

Squinting in concentration, her shot fired out, skimming just outside the little target.

10 rounds.

“Try again,” he commanded harshly from her side.

She bit her lip, took a deep, quaky breath, trying to dispel the odd tremble in her limbs, the slow, crawling heat that was blooming softly in her belly. She raised the gun once more.

And missed.

She’d just done it. He’d seen.

9 rounds.

“You’re rushing. Again.”

Her throat constricted.

Was that excitement in his tone?

Another miss.

8 rounds.

“Again.”

She lowered the gun limply to her side, glaring pointedly ahead.

“I can’t,” she muttered, thoroughly humiliated.

“Oh, come now. Don’t be like that.”

And again, there was something… volatile in the chime of his voice. Like he was playing with her.

He stepped forward, tapping her bicep.

“Up.”

She jolted at the contact and with an almost embarrassing speed, did just as he asked, heating blooming across her cheeks at her unconscious submission.

With a low, approving hum at her side, he altered her grip on the gun, scarcely touching her, the hem of his coat brushing ghostlike across the backs of her knees.

Heart clattering like a tin can, eyes squeezed shut to try and lessen the quivering in her limbs from his proximity alone, she waited for him to release her wrist. But he didn’t, instead dragging his firm grip upward to rest on her elbow.

“There you are,” he said breezily, “Now, try again.”

The shot rang out.

Went completely stray, wood shattering somewhere in the recesses of the room.

7 rounds.

“It wasn’t but five minutes ago you were hitting every one.”

She let out a stuttering gasp when his arm progressed upward to wrap almost painfully tight around her upper arm.

“I wonder what it is that has Ivy so unsettled.”

Silco was hardly touching her. And she was melting, desperately trying to center herself from the crashing wave of almost nauseating desire that swelled from the single point of contact.

“For one, I can see a few improvements to be had,” he tsked, “One being your stance. Too stiff.” A booted foot wedged between her legs, kicked out her back foot, bringing his heat that much closer to her wobbling form.

Breath lightly caressed the shell of her ear, tone holding a cunning note of underhanded bemusement.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?”

Because she wanted to impress him.

“Hm?” he prompted after a prolonged silence.

“I wanted to get back into shooting,” she exhaled, “That’s all.”

A rumble of disapproval hummed through his chest.

“Try again,” he commanded.

And she carried out his orders, how could she not? Squeezed the trigger, hardly aiming anymore, the shot once again going wide.

6 rounds.

A hand lightly grazed up her side, paused, almost in permission, and she found herself leaning back on her heels just slightly, searching for the heated planes of his stomach. Finding empty air, his body circumventing hers, always withholding.

His movement resumed as her breathing hitched, his knuckles just barely brushing the outside curve of her breast before traveling back down, fingers bracing almost tenderly around the soft skin just above her hip bone.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been practicing?” he asked again, voice lethally quiet.

“I wanted-“

She stopped. It was too much, too humiliating. Because he was just going to mock her, step away and she’d have to go home, suffer the lonely consequences.

But then his nose brushed the curve of her ear, tracing the shell. And one of her knees buckled as she choked out a telling gasp. His palm slid around to her abdomen, splayed there, not so much bracing her up as just resting lightly, taunting.

“What is it? What did you want?”

She grimaced, couldn’t help the way her head drooped in embarrassment. Her voice was small, weak. Just like her subsequent words.

“I wanted you to be proud.”

Silco’s dark chuckle in her ear was practically a purr, sent a flurry of tremors racing down her stiffening spine.

“Did you?” His pinky moved a fraction, brushing just slightly across the top of her waistband. Her knees locked, nails latching onto the wrist of his offending hand. “And do you think I’m proud of you?”

Her lips thinned and she turned her glare away from his line of sight,

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, humiliation scorching like a wildfire across her cheekbones.

“Allow me to rephrase. Do you need more attention?”

All she could manage was a quick, indecipherable jerk of her head.

“Your words,” he commanded.

Another rough swipe of his pinky across her navel and she squeaked, pressing desperately backward, trying to escape the hot shock of desire that accompanied the miniscule motion and only managing to entangle herself further into him.

She let out a string of garbled nothings.

“What was that?” he taunted, nose grazing her temple. “Is it my attention you want?”

The gloved hand gripping her bicep traveled upward slowly, across the gentle curve of her shoulder, up the slope of her neck and into her raven hair, where it expertly massaged her scalp. She vibrated against him like an overheating engine, breathing shallow and head clouding with a heady lust.

“Yes,”she panted, eyes closing at the sensation. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he crooned, exhaling a quiet laugh as she clenched her thighs together, the words traveling lightning quick to the pooling wetness between them. Just as he knew they would.

And she’d just begun to relax into the gentleness, into something almost resembling a lover’s embrace, when his hand fisted roughly in her hair, yanking back until she had to arch her back to accommodate. Her hoarse cry echoed obscenely across the empty warehouse.

Silco’s words were ragged, hissed into her cheekbones, his knife-bladed nose pressed tightly against her hairline from where her head now lay across his shoulder.

“Have you considered, Ivy, the implications of holding my attention?”

Of course she had.

“Y-yes.”

And he tightened his fist further. The unoccupied gloved fingers dipped just beneath the hem of her pants, sitting there unmoving, and she bucked in his grip, eyes blurring with a heady mix of pain and pleasure.

“Make the shot.”

Her jaw slackened when he responded to her hesitation with an agonizing tug, the nails of her flesh hand digging red crescents into his forearm.

No, came a stubborn little voice inside her head.

But Janna, she wanted to hit that moving target for him. And she hated that she did.

“Hit the target, Ivy.”

Perhaps, she thought, a compromise.

With a frustrated cry, she locked her arm, fixed her sights elsewhere, finger pulsing like mad against the gun trigger until she’d unleashed all 6 rounds, the empty chamber clicking furiously several times before she finally relented on it.

Her arm dropped limply to her side.

And what followed was the purest form of silence, with only the weighted sounds of their oxygen intertwining as they both stared at a now busted dress mannequin with six perfect bullet holes in its chest.

See? She was fully capable.

She listened, with a subtle, growing anxiety, to Silco’s increasingly ragged breath fanning across her cheek, his fingers having loosened in her hair.

Had she messed this up?

She turned, painfully slow, afraid of what she might find, of the devastating, smirking outcome. But as the tip of her nose brushed his, she found it was the lack of humor that terrified her the most: a crazed intensity there that nearly consumed the beautiful teal of his right eye.

“Sir?”

He attacked. Hauled her wriggling form backward like she weighed nothing at all.

“Oh, you,” he snarled into her ear, “That wasn’t what I asked for at all, was it?”

She clung onto him for dear life.

“Complying just enough to strike innocent.”

She was propped up dazedly in front of the stand-up mirror, feeling very much like the ruined, lead-filled mannequin lying prone behind them.

“But do you want to know what I think?”

A gloved hand wrapped the front of her throat, pressing just enough to make her dizzy, the other traveling up the muscled planes of her abdomen.

“I think you tremble when I’m near,” he spat, emphasizing with a brush of his thumb across the fluttering pulse of her neck, pulling a pathetic whine from her.

It was near impossible to comprehend the mirror’s reflection, Silco’s chin resting on her shoulder, his calculating, frenzied eyes holding hers in a perilous deadlock.

“I want you to see yourself, Ivy, just how desperate you really are.”

As if on a mission to prove his point, she pressed backward dazedly, seeking out his heat through the small gap between their bodies.

She couldn’t be the only one.

She reached behind, trailing up Silco’s thigh.

And cried out in fresh pain as the roaming fingers on her stomach shot upward, locating and twisting her nipple hard through her t-shirt, serrated nose driving into her temple as he harshly reprimanded.

“When did I say you could touch?”

She entrenched her claws hopelessly into the smooth skin of Silco’s forearm, as if he had her dangled over an active volcano. Fingers dipped beneath her waistband, thumb brushing teasing strokes across the sensitive inner junction where thigh met groin. Each narrow pass of his digit left her trembling, just as he’d said, the pulsing between her legs fringing on painful.

She protested. “Why don’t I get to tou-“

Silco squeezed her windpipe, lips quirking villainously in the mirror as he choked the span of two breaths, her back bowing mechanically, backside grinding backward into an impressive erection.

“You’ll get your chance,” he said, “So long as you beg for it.”

Ivy was never one to sulk. She took life’s abuse with a hard glint in her eye, with her jaw clenched firmly against the storm. Therefore, the fact that the man was able to elicit such a quivering pout out of her was alarming to say the least.

Spotting her growing petulance, his thumb swiped once, hard, across her clit. A throaty cry cracked through the air as her knees buckled, head thrown back against his shoulder, resting on the wide lapel of his coat.

Panting, she desperately tried to paddle back to shore through the crashing onslaught of blood rushing through her now ringing ears, hardly catching Silco’s theatrical sigh through the haze.

Silco’s breath tickled the exposed column of her throat as the fingers around her throat dipped into the V of her shirt.

“I’m undecided as to what to do with you, Ivy,” he crooned. “Such a good girl for practicing on your own.”

Something delightful and warm snaked through her chest at the praise.

“But to keep such progress from me?”

“I’m s-sorry,” she rasped, voice tight.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Silco pinched a nipple between two fingers, paired it with another hard swipe across her clit, wrenching another moan from her throat.

“Look at yourself.”

Hesitantly, she cracked her eyes open, peering dazedly at the salacious scene.

Silco hunched, one hand lazily massaging her breasts, the other one down her pants. Her cheeks ruddy, chest heaving with fruitless gasps as she clung to him like a cat on a high branch. And he lay in wait below, arms splayed, a gold and crimson-tinted thorn bush.

“All I need you to do, Ivy, is beg.”

She knew he’d spotted it, that emblematic precipice she stood on. It reflected plain as day in her lust-filled eyes, how he’d won her subservience.

Something victorious and equally vicious quirked his lips into a devilish smirk.

She would beg. She would do it. But she was dragging him down with her.

And he did falter just the slightest when her nose brushed his jagged cheekbone as she turned to ghost her words hotly across the lobe of his ear.

“Please,” her breathlessness entirely genuine, chest heaving against his palm. “I need- I need you to touch me.”

And at the tattered, uneven breath in response, she surrendered, loading the final bullet in the chamber, pressing her damp forehead into the lapel of his coat, sighing into his neck.

“Please, sir. Please, Silco.”

Like a hot stove, she was released suddenly, and there was a long moment where her stomach free fell in anxiety.

Clearing off a nearby table with a ferocious swipe of a single arm, he yanked it in front of her, its legs squealing raucously across the concrete flooring.

With a shocking, cobra-like speed, he had her torso driven into the surface, one hand on her midback, the other going to work on her pants. Dexterously, he unclasped the buttons with a single hand, tearing her pants and underwear down to her ankles in one fell swoop.

Two gloved hands smoothed across the globes of her buttocks, spreading her to the cold air, exposing the wetness she knew full well was glistening on her inner thighs.

She dropped her forehead in a sudden wave of embarrassment and was quickly reprimanded with a tight fist in her hair, his eyes scorching into hers from where they hovered over her head.

“Oh no, you don’t get to look away from this.”

One hand gave her backside a rough thwack and she instantly pushed backward, shamelessly seeking him out.

“Look at you,” he breathed almost reverently.

Silco hardly allowed her the time to feel self-conscious as he released her hair, his now free hand hovering for just a moment in front of her panting mouth before she found herself suddenly invaded, leather fingers pressing inward, exploring the cavern of her mouth, scissoring, shoving slowly across the pad of her tongue until she gagged, eyes watering.

He slipped them out again.

“Bite,” he commanded.

And it took her a few dazed seconds to understand, vision misting. She quickly closed her teeth around the tip of his middle finger, allowing him to tug backward, to free his hand from the glove.

The second it was unencumbered it dove between her legs. Once again, her head thudded onto the table with a vulgar moan, quickly morphing into a whine of despair when his hand disappeared, clapping again at the soft flesh of her backside.

“What did I say?” he reprimanded, and she raised her head obediently.

“Good.”

His fingers danced across the backs of her thigh, kneading softly up to the place he’d just spanked and she bit her lip, hardly caring about the smugness twisting his features, nothing else more important than getting his fingers between her legs again.

“You said you want me to touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Where, exactly?”

Her eyelids fluttered in frustration as Silco’s warm digits danced across her inner thighs, merely outlining her throbbing core.

“Touch m-“ she stuttered, nearly incoherent, “Just touch me.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, dear.”

“Put your fingers inside me,” she snapped, and was rewarded with a third, sharp spank. Another painful fist in her hair.

“So shameless, so ill-mannered.”

But she didn’t miss the way his erection dug into her side approvingly.

“Please, sir” she pleaded.

Silco chuckled darkly, hinging forward from the waist, booted feet on either side of one of her quivering legs, lips tracing the shell of her ear.

“Remember this, Ivy,” he said, voice dangerously soft, as he kicked her insole, successfully widening her stance. “I’m not without mercy.”

And two fingers bee-lined to her clit, performing a quick circle around the sensitive bud. A shattered gasp tore from her throat and she only just managed to catch her head from dropping in pure, sanity-shattering bliss.

Silco dipped his fingers carefully between her wet folds, eyes wild and calculated as he drank in her reactions like a fine wine, chin coming to a rest atop her head.

“You are a needy thing,” he murmured quietly, and she shuddered at the feeling of his jaw working, at how docile she remained, pinned beneath him. “Perhaps I should have paid you better attention.”

He spread the growing slick, wanting her to feel how wet she was for him.

“Alleviated you sooner.”

Silco relented to her whining pleas, pushing two fingers slowly inside her, hooking them in a way that had her jaw dropping in euphoria, a low, satisfied groan puncturing the air, her nails digging into the wood from where her arms framed her head.

“You are under my supervision after all.”

He soon pumped with a third finger, refraining from speech, forcing her to listen to the sounds of her arousal, of just how drenched he’d made her.

Silco’s gloved hand released her hair, forging a lazy trail down the center of her back. The gentleness sent shivers of pleasure through her already quaking form as he stroked across each vertebra until he reached her tailbone.

Bending, arm encircling her hips, leather-covered fingers located her aching bud, and she jerked forward, grinding against the unmoving digits.

He withheld any compassion, instead watching with a predatory head cock as she struggled against him in a desperate bid for friction.

“I suspect this isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself writhing against my glove, is it?”

And her stomach dropped, frenzied, lust-filled eyes connecting with his own in the mirror. It should’ve been shameful, the recognition, and it was certainly there, that twinge of embarrassment. But more than anything, it was a freeing acknowledgment of the tension that had been building over the course of a week and a half.

And she felt oddly fine with him knowing exactly what he did to her.

Her chin squeaked against the surface of the table as she jerked her head back and forth, finally tilting it to the side so she could speak.

“No. It’s not.”

Silco’s expression dripped in a villainous self-satisfaction and he finally moved, dragged another tight circle around her swollen bud, paired it with a particularly deadly hook of his fingers within her, sending her hands clawing forward.

“And would you ever have told me?”

He began a steady rhythm, working her, each pass of the ridged seam of his glove across her clit coinciding with a desperate moan.

Silco repeated the question, she shook her head fervently, unable to speak.

“It seems to me you’ve been awfully withholding,” he crooned, breath fanning across the small of her back, eyes fixed to hers in the reflection. “First your little set-up here, now admitting you’ve been fucking yourself with my glove.”

The sound of the spat curse from his lips had her clenching hard around his fingers, a familiar heat stoking in her lower belly, coiling insidiously slow.

“Perhaps I should stop.”

“No, no, no.”

Voice so tight it was practically a screech, her fingers scrabbled for purchase as the heat continued to build, as the tidal wave quickly approached.

“Hm?”

Any semblance of control she’d had was far gone. All she knew for certain was that he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop. Not when she was this close. So, snatching the string of a single, coherent balloon floating by, she babbled the only word she could come up with, muttered it like a prayer.

“Please, please, please, please.”

“Are you going to cum, Ivy?” he purred into the dampening skin of her lower back.

“Please,” she nearly sobbed, stomach tightening like a pulled back rubber band.

“Then, cum.”

The climax smashed into her devastatingly hard, her back bowing violently as that band snapped.

Mouth opened in a silent cry, brows knitted in ecstasy, she determinedly held his evil, gloating gaze until she couldn’t any longer, that tidal wave of pleasure finally crashing through. The weight of it dragged her forehead to thud against the table as she released a strangled moan, stars bursting across her vision.

He drew it out forever. Fingers hooking in time with each violent, perfect convulsion, thumb still circling her clit slowly.

He eased her gently through, not stopping until she was a shuddering, boneless heap on the table, twitching from the overstimulation.

Hair stuck sweaty to her forehead as she pressed it to the cool wood, breath coming out in short puffs, the post bliss of release tingling across her skin. And she thought, if she could, she’d fall asleep right there.

But a light brush of soft lips to her tailbone brought her dazed thoughts back to the man behind. Who still very much had his long fingers pressed inside her.

She raised her bleary gaze to his.

With a slow deliberateness, he pulled his fingers out of her, and she twitched violently as she was hit with an aftershock, clenching around him, the resulting squelch obscene in the otherwise quiet room. At her low groan, the hard outline of his cock twitched against her outer thigh.

For a man so chatty just thirty seconds ago, he was unnervingly quiet now.

She propped herself up with shaking arms, eyed her prosthesis, tried to force away that surge of familiar, venomous self-doubt.

She crawled up onto the table, ignoring, as best she could, his sizzling gaze as it flicked across the side of her face. Swinging her legs up, she tugged her pants the rest of the way off and pulled her boots off one by one, socks to follow, discarding them on the floor with a dull thud. She took a deep, cleansing breath, despising that he could see her fumbling hesitation, the way her eyes kept darting to her hand.

The wetness weeping from her cunt reminded her of what he’d done, how he’d touched her. That he’d wanted to touch her.

She scooted to a kneeling position before him, butt resting on her heels, knees spread slightly, looking down uncertainly.

A gloved hand tipped her chin up, held it there while three curious fingers came to rest at her lips, waiting, and she darted her tongue out, catching the bitter taste of herself. Sucking his fingers greedily into her mouth, she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Good girl,” he whispered, thumb brushing with uncharacteristic tenderness across a small scar near the crease of her lips before he pulled away.

Fabric rustled as he bent, and two hands were skimming up her hips, stopping at the hem of her t-shirt. She jerkily raised her arms for him to draw it up and over her head.

Until she was entirely bare to him.

Silco swatted at her when she instinctively attempted to cover herself.

“We don’t hide, Ivy.”

She frowned, blinked curiously at his phrasing.

“Be still. Hands atop your thighs,” came the reprimand again as she curled inward. “Let me look at you.”

She could feel his eyes as they slid across her naked form, felt that golden ribbon of arousal curl between her legs once again as he cupped two hands beneath her breasts, thumbs rolling slow, tantalizing circles over her pebbled nipples as she squirmed and whined.

“It’s hard to be the only one without clothes,” she rasped finally.

“Oh,” he paused his ministrations to taunt, “That must be so difficult.”

Only fair to allow her a remedy.

The table creaked beneath as she redistributed her weight, reaching toward that intimidating erection in his pants. And he struck, quick as lightning, seizing both wrists, yanking her toward him, her knees sliding forward until they were flush against his upper thighs, chest thrusting upward in order to lean decidedly away from his face, suddenly so close.

“What did I say about touching, Ivy?”

It was a long moment before his words from minutes ago emerged through the thick fog of lust clouding her mind.

“That I’d get my chance,” she said, “So long as I begged.”

Silco rearranged her wrists into one long-fingered hand, snatching her jaw in the harsh, punishing grip of his other.

“Yet I haven’t heard so much as a please.”

An honest attempt was cut off with a hiss as her teeth scored into her cheeks.

“What’s that?” he murmured, half-lidded eyes dropping to her wet mouth. “If this is what you want, you’re scarcely trying.”

If he let go of her, she would fall. In more ways than one. She was lost. Lost in the familiar, smoky scent of him. Disappearing in the orange swirl of that obsidian eye. And she hardly thought she’d make it out.

“Can I touch you, please?”

His gaze drank her in from up close, eyes darting, and she beat him to it, knew exactly what he was opening his mouth to ask. Where?

“Your cock. I want to touch your cock, sir” she said, words strained from her awkward positioning.

Silco’s teal eye twitched.

“May-may I?” she stammered again in the silence.

A look of genuine, dare she say fond amusement crossed his features before he balanced her, pulled forward until her hands twisted into the stiff fabric of his coat, until their lips were inches away.

“Off the table. On your knees.”

He gave her hardly a body’s worth of space to do so, but the approval ignited a fire under her skin, and she eagerly wedged herself between him and the table, slid down his front until she knelt on the floor below him.

With a flourish, he shoved the table out of the way, giving him full view of her backside in the mirror.

Her flesh hand reached forward tentatively to meet one of the buttons of his pants, eyes falling to the strained fabric at the front.

“Both hands, Ivy,” he said, her name stretched into a soft, breathless exhale as she brushed across his clothed cock, moving to undo his buttons with remarkable speed, despite her quivering form.

She reached for the other side and found her wrist in his stern grip once more.

“I said, both hands.”

In a sudden bout of frustration and shame, her forehead pressed forward against his hip flexor, nose nuzzling inward, his skin twitching as she warmed the fabric there with her hot breath.

How shameful. Couldn’t she be allowed to forget about her disfigurement, her defect, just for a moment in time?

Fingers tangled gently in her hair and her eyes rolled to peer up at him, her core pulsing wildly at the feral edge he tried to contain within that impassive expression, crooked teeth visible through his slightly parted lips.

She’d use her prosthesis. She’d do anything if he continued to look at her like that.

I’m doing this for you.

Her pleading expression urged him to understand as she struggled with the final two buttons, her captured wrist released to her once finished with an uttered praise from Silco.

She ran her hand along the hard bulge, feeling it twitch against her palm.

Appeasing him finally, she tugged at his waistband, releasing him, eyes widening a fraction at the generous length.

She took him into palm, prosthesis planting against his hip, thumb swiping teasingly against the sensitive skin around his cock. A tattered breath was released above her and she looked up again, hungrily devouring his reactions.

Her lips were so close. She could taste him if she wanted, was sure he wouldn’t mind. Maybe flick out her tongue a bit.

She met his gaze questioningly, pumping her hand slowly up and down his shaft, swiping her thumb across the head, gathering the beads of precum there, adoring the way his tongue pressed against his teeth in response.

“Do you want to take me in your mouth? Is that it?” he asked, words holding a serrated edge.

She nodded, biting the plush of her bottom lip.

“What are you waiting for?”

Nothing anymore. She darted her tongue across the tip, groaning softly when his hand tightened painfully in her hair, and even more when she wrapped her lips fully around the weeping head, tongue swirling lightly.

Taking deep, calming breaths through her nose, she eased him slowly into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth, and he expelled a ragged, drawn-out groan in tandem with her own as the sound of his pleasure shot straight between her legs.

“You’ve wanted this since the very beginning, haven’t you?” he grit out, and her eyes shot to his. “Pleasured yourself to my fingers between your legs, to your lips wrapped around my cock like this.”

She moaned out an affirmative yes around him and he hissed.

“Dirty girl.”

As she found her rhythm, his straying hands found their way to her face, pushing the sweat dampened hair back, clearing his line of sight, calloused thumbs dragging frenzied patterns into her temples as he began to take control, fucking steadily into her.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, voice strained.

The praise warmed like fine liquor in her chest, his groaning satisfaction pushing her to take more of him with each thrust, to please him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he hit the back of her throat, as she struggled to breathe, relaxing her jaw, eyes rolling upward as his pleasure intensified her own.

Her hand released her grip on the base of his cock, snaking its way between her legs instead.

“Look at you,” he panted, thumb swiping gently at her tears, “Working yourself so good for me.”

She keened around his cock as she worked her clit furiously, provoking a ragged growl out of Silco that was positively sinful.

“Let me see you.”

She lifted her wild gaze to his, cunt clenching around nothing at the equally untamed glint in his eye.

Let him see you.

She spread her knees wider, and her thighs burned as she pushed her body slightly upward, arching her back so he could see the outline of her fingers pumping, palm grinding as his gaze honed on the mirror’s reflection.

And all the while he uttered crooning, breathless praises to her, petting her hair as he increased pace, eyes darting between her and the mirror as if she would disappear any second.

Pleasure ripped through her and she cried out, throat widening just that last amount to push her fully forward, both hands flying out to grab his legs in support as her nose smashed into his abdomen, fully encasing him inside her humming throat.

With a shattered groan, he followed suit, his release spilling down her throat, fist tightening so excruciatingly in her hair she would have squealed if she could, eyes rolling back as pain and pleasure formed an exquisite concoction.

She rode out the cresting waves of her orgasm with her hands wrapped tightly around the backs of his thighs until she was a twitching mess beneath him.

The blackness that had begun to take hold at the edges of her vision had her smacking his fingers on her head with increasing desperation, and he finally released her, gasping for air.

She slumped forward against him.

She breathed him in, wanted it to freeze itself, this strange moment in time: her forehead pressed reverently against his thigh, his fingers rubbing gentle, absentminded circles into her temples. She didn’t know when she’d grabbed the wrist of his left hand with her prosthesis, but it gripped there all the same.

“Clothes on.”

The tone of his voice was cryptic. Quiet.

Her body sagged and she allowed herself one final moment to mourn what may well never transpire again.

Then, swallowing dryly, did as she was told, not looking at him as she dragged her clothes back on, wondering what the hell happened now.

Grabbing her abandoned boot from in front of the mirror, she paused, eyes on her prosthesis as another wave of venomous self-doubt washed over her, brought a swell of angry tears to her eyes. At how utterly broken she was.

Tearing her gaze away, she laced her boots, standing up straight only to find Silco beside her.

Turning slow, she faced him fully, uncertainty wrinkling her brow as she dared to look upon his face, fearing something smug. Finding only a searching softness.

Ironing out the space between her brows with one thumb, he took her prosthesis in the other, eyes darting across her features as he raised it, cupping it gently across the scarred side of his face.

“We don’t hide, Ivy.”

I think, with this being my first smut piece, I may have gotten a little carried away, but there you have it folks, 6.5K words of my filthy, rotten brain.

Again, I highly encourage everyone to check out @x-amount-verbs A Helping Hand, although I know most of us are obsessed with it already :) I have heart eyes for her OC and for the complex way she writes Silco. And on top of that, she's also just a lovely person.

AO3 Link if you want to toss me a kudos or a comment. It makes my entire day :)

I don't have much under my belt yet, but am starting a master list and am always looking for requests if anyone wants to send em' my way. Or just send me any and all of your unhinged thoughts, this fandom is hilarious.

Much love! <3

#A Helping Hand #silco #Silcoxreader #silco x oc #silco arcane #smut #silco x f!reader

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sixpossumsinaclownsuit · 2 years

Text

Hello, Tumblr! This is Red Batty speaking.

I'm all done with school now so, hey! I thought I'd open my ask box for fic requests.

Smut is A-Okay! NSFW, Angst, the works. I'll just have to make the final call, but I can do the same prompt but milder if I'm not comfortable with the ask. No Yandere either, there's too many impressionable teens on this hell site that might think that's true love and I'm not risking it. I also don't do sad endings or major character death, because. I don't want to <3

Below are the characters I'm willing to write for!

Justice League Dark

John Constantine

Etrigan/Jason Blood

Zatanna Zatara

Deadman/Boston Brand

Batman/Batfamily

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Robert Pattinson/Batman 2022 version

Comics version

Christian Bale/Dark Knight version

Arkham games version

Anything more niche than that literally just ask I'm probably down, like if he's voiced by Kevin Conroy, I'll probably write for him

Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Red Hood/Jason Todd

I haven't played Arkham Knight yet so Arkham!Jason isn't available yet

Red Robin/Tim Drake

Batgirl/Cassandra Kain

Oracle/Barbara Gordon (I can do Batgirl!Babs also)

Spoiler/Stephanie Brown

I'm also open to do Spotlight/Duke Thomas but I know f$%king nothing about him so if its an ask generic enough to apply to any Robin I'm down.

Rogues Gallery

Comics, Arkham games and animated series versions only right now. Well, that and Nolan!Rogues. Just not Bane, don't make me write fic for Rises.

I could do Gotham but it'd have to be plot nonspecific or you'd have to be specific about the ask (not against that) but still,,, yeah ahem anyways

Harley Quinn

Arkham games version

Comics version

Animated series version

Still haven't seen BoP or Suicide Squad so not those versions yet,,, sorry gang

Poison Ivy

I WILL do Harlivy if requested, and Harlivy x reader, and Harlivy x Selina x reader… Basically just send me your ideal fictional polycule and I'll do it. Love wins.

Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

WOOF Cillian Murphy too fine, if not specified that's the version I'm writing

Riddler/Edward Nygma

NOT PAUL DANO VERSION. I'm sorry but the 2022 la version is a little creep and I won't write fic for him

If I get a Joker ask It better be the f$%king Lego Joker ONLY.

Bane

Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Zoe Kravitz Selina my beloved, so hmu for 2022!Selina if you like also

Uhhhh I'm tired and ran out of ideas, If I missed one literally just ask

Justice League

just animated series and comics. No, I haven't seen Snyderverse. Yes, I'll be a little bitchy about it. Shazam and Aquaman and Wonder Woman can stay though. I'll write for live action Aquaman and WW, but not Shazam bc he's. Literally a child. Mkay.

Superman/Clark Kent

Batman (see above)

Green Lantern

John Stewart

Hal Jordan

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Aquaman/Arthur Curry

Flash

Wally West

Barry Allen

Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

Arcane (League of Legends)

Haven't seen Arrow in years so bear with me if you want arrowverse!Ollie

Sandman/Neil Gaiman!DC

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless

Death of the Endless

The Corinthian

Hob/Rob Gadling

Rob x Morpheus x Reader

Constantine (Joanna or John, see above)

Caitlin

Vi x Caitlin x Reader or any other polycule for that matter

Viktor

Jayce

Silco

Vander

Bethesda

Jinx

Skyrim

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

John Hancock

Paladin Danse

McCready

Piper

Preston Garvey

Fallout (TV Show)

Lucy

Maximus

The Ghoul/Cooper Howard

Brynjolf

Mercer Frey

Vilkas

Farkas

Aela

Serana

Cicero

Adrianne and Ulfberth War-Bear (at Shieldmaiden's)

this one is niche as hell they're not even companions or marriable but I'm putting it on the list

Mortal Kombat

If there's anyone missing just talk to me about it, thanks guys love u

I'll do the game or the movie I'm just a bit rustier on game lore, pls bear with me.

Scorpion/Hanzo Hasashi

Sub-Zero/Kuai Liang

Kenshi

Liu Kang

Raiden

Johnny Cage

Sonya Blade

Johnny x Sonya or Johnny x Sonya x reader

Kotal Khan

Cassie Cage

Marvel

Takeda

I'm having a bit of a love/hate relationship with the MCU right now so these are the few I'm writing for, if there's someone you want me to write for from comics lore, just hmu and we'll see what I can do for you

Moon Knight

Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, all together or individually

Doctor Stephen Strange

**or any of his variants.

Also AUs. I'm down for AUs like "in this universe of DS he's like [blank]" so when mcu!DS comes through its like [blank]... you get the idea.

Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximo

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

I'll do Peter Maximoff also but X-men get their own special section, see below

Loki

2012!Loki

TVA!Loki

President!Loki

Disneyland Loki

X-Men

Its not that I think I'm better than people because I prefer writing comics/animated series it's just. I know that better. And the movies make my head hurt sometimes but a few of them are cool it's literally random so just. Ask.

Cyclops/Scott Summers

(This one for my bestie mwah)

Emma Frost

Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

Deadpool (does he count? Fuck it, he was a trainee)

Colossus/Piotr Rasputin

Mystique/Raven Darkhölme

Magneto/Erik (Magnus) Lensherr

This is one I will write straight from the movies because good lord is his character hot as fuck compelling and a dilf well written

Shadowcat/Kitty Pride

Rogue/Anna-Marie

Gambit/Remy LeBeau

Gambit x Rogue x reader, and any other polycule basically

Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

Storm/Ororo Munroe

There's so many at this point I can't remember them all just ask

Defenders

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Jessica Jones

Foggy Nelson

Karen Page

Punisher/Frank Castle

I ask that you keep my punisher reqs spoiler free as I'm catching up on the show right now

Spiderverse

Peter Parker

Peter B. (ITSV)

Tom Holland

Andrew Garfield

Tobey Maguire

(I'm rustier on the live action babies so give me grace here)

Spiderman 2099/Miguel O'hara

Spider!Gwen

Spiderman Noir

Spider!Gwen x Andrew Garfield!Spiderman

Spiderman/Miles Morales

He WILL be aged up or shipped with a teen reader, anything else will get doused in gasoline and set on fire.

Eddie Brock/Venom

Note: I'm more willing to do spiderverse x ocs bc I know the spidersona brainrot is real. Hell, at this point, I might do oc x oc content for spiderverse because I've been there (and I've got a bestie with two spider ocs in a ship, love u cas)

Doc Ock/Otto Octavius

Doc Ock/Liv Octavius

Lmao I might do liv x aunt may if its funny or wholesome enough

Mysterio/Quentin Beck

It'll only be mcu!beck if explicitly stated that's what you want.

Green Goblin/Norman Osborne

Electro/Max Dillon

Sandman/Flint Marko

Lizard/Dr. Curtis Connors

If you think I'm missing someone just ask

Umbrella Academy

Luther Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Viktor Hargreeves

Fka Vanya for anyone not up to speed, he's going by Viktor now that Elliot Page has come out

I will not use she/her pronouns or the name Vanya, if I get a req for Vanya it will be written for Viktor.

Star Wars

Prequels/Clone Wars

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Captain Rex

Commander Cody

Padme Amidala

Original Trilogy

Luke Skywalker

Leia Organa Skywalker

Han Solo

Lando Calrissian

Mandalorian/Post War Era

Mando/Din Djarin

Bo Katan-Kryze

Cobb Vanth

I know I'm missing some I know it just ask and I'll let yall know

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Ghost/Lt. Simon Riley

Soap/Sgt. Johnny MacTavish

Gaz/Sgt. Kyle Garrick

Captain John Price

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Rudy/Sgt. Rodolfo Parra

Commander Philip Graves

Monster AU

AU is NOT MINE: it belongs to @/bluegiragi I just think it's sexy

Ghost/Lt. Simon Riley: Wraith

Soap/Sgt. Johnny MacTavish: Werewolf

Gaz/Kyle Garrick: Harpy

Captain John Price: Dragon

Colonel Alejandro Vargas: Nagual

Rudy/Sgt. Rodolfo Parra:

Commander Philip Graves: Vampire

For my König gays and girlies, I love him, and I will write for him, but I don't know a lot about him so bear with me here, I'm trying.

I'll write Monster!AU König as well just ask <3 and the ask doesn't have to be within the confines of the AU "canon," or any canon for that matter

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zoeykallus · 3 years

Text

Arcane – Little Flower Part 9 – What We Deserve

Silco x female!reader

Warning: None

———-

Author’s Comment:

I’m sorry,this one is shorter, simply because I'm not sure yet where I'm going from here. Don't worry I'll brood over it over night.

On repeat while writing:

Narcisstic Cannibal Downfall Wonderful Life Car Crash ———-

What Happened Before:

Little Flower (Smut 18+)

Little Flower Part 2 - Safe And Sound (Fluff/ Slightly Suggestive)

Little Flower Part 3 - Cupidos (Smut 18+)

Little Flower part 4 - Before You Killed Me (Violence 18+)

Little Flower Part 5 - Carried By Our Desolation (Smut 18+)

Little Flower Part 6 - The Morning After (Smut 18+)

Little Flower Part 7 - Love And War (Smut 18+)

Little Flower Part 8 - Who We Really Are (Smut 18+)

Part 9 - What We Deserve

Silco should actually be more than satisfied. Everything had gone according to plan, the takeover of Tavo's organization went smoothly, everything was in the bag. But you were still missing, the second day already. Sevika had returned without you.

"I can't find her, she's not at Jinx's or any of the other places I would have thought she was. I've also checked out a few shelters, but no one has supposedly seen her."

Silco had to suppress the urge to burst out yelling.

"Someone you questioned must have lied, it can't be that just no one has seen her," he growled in a very controlled manner.

Sevika nodded.

"I suppose so, but I don't know who and I can't beat up the whole undercity," she returned dryly.

Silco stood up, paced back and forth in his office, thinking. Where could you be? He thought about your conversations, things you had told him, about places you had been. Then he remembered the old chapel you told him about. It was a shot in the dark but worth a try.

You liked this place, even though the building was rundown and the roof was full of holes. Most of the old stained glass windows were still intact, ivy and other vines with small flowers on them grew everywhere. It seemed a bit like something out of a half utopian half dystopian dream when daylight shone through the stained glass windows into the interior.

You had found a dry, clean corner in the back room and made your camp there, there you had spent the last two nights, but you had slept little. Your thoughts had not let you sleep, you were too restless. Inevitably you had asked yourself how many more cruelties existed of which you didn't know anything or which you had selfishly blanked out. And then again there came this feeling somewhere from the depth of your being, you were missing him. You were missing the murderous monster.

You thought about going back to Silco, but you couldn't get rid of that image of him holding that bloody knife, slitting those men's throats, that look on his face.

With a sigh, you continued to play around with the candles you had found, softening the wax with a lighter and shaping and drawing decorations on the candles.

Startled, you looked up when you heard footsteps. You expected Sevika, or maybe even Silco himself, but you didn't expect Jinx. Nevertheless, it was she who came walking down the aisle between the crumbling benches toward the altar, toward you.

For an anxious moment you wondered if she was here on Silco's behalf, but you didn't think he would send her, of all people, and you didn't think Jinx would agree.

You stood up nervously and the girl immediately embraced you warmly. With a relieved sigh you said, "How did you find me?"

"You told me about this place a while ago."

-------

Silco stood at the side door near the altar and hesitated. When he saw that you were there, he had sent Sevika away, he wanted to do this alone. But Sevika should not go too far, in case you tried to run away again.

He had just gathered himself and was about to enter the chapel when something unexpected happened. Jinx appeared.

"How did you find me?"

"You told me about this place a while ago."

He decided to wait, he wanted to hear what you said to each other. Maybe you would talk about him. The more he knew how you felt at the moment, the better he could adjust and adapt his words to what he would say to you.

-------

You laughed softly, "That's right, I remember, that was when we" you broke off to collect yourself, "...had worked out the decorations for Silco's revolver", you pointed to the various vine plants that stretched blooming over walls, benches and also partly on the altar "These are the plants I meant, that was my inspiration for part of the pattern on the handle".

Jinx looked around. She nodded slowly.

"I can see it now too. There's something kind of... dreamy about it"

Pleased that she shared your view, you smiled.

But then she looked at you piercingly, "Speaking of Silco, I've heard that the ogre has been looking for you for two days. Have you been running away from Silco again?"

Confused, you looked at her, "The what is looking for me?"

"Ogre. Sevika, it' s her nickname."

You had never heard the nickname before, probably only Jinx called her that, they didn't like each other much, Sevika thought Jinx was a spoiled teenager and she wasn't necessarily wrong.

"So he sent Sevika to look for me?"

Jinx nodded and said, "I've heard he's joining the search himself by now."

You sighed and turned back to the candles.

"Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?" inquired Jinx curiously, sitting down with you and busying herself with the candles as well.

"I don't know if I should, Jinx, he's your father".

Jinx shrugged, "So, you know I'm used to a lot".

Again you sighed, thinking for a moment. Maybe it was a stupid idea, but who else would you talk to about it? Sevika was definitely not an option at the moment.

"I saw him... do something, something bad."

"Define bad? Do you mean the hostile takeover of Tavo's organization?"

Surprised, you looked up from your candle.

"You knew about this?"

"Sure, he keeps no secrets from me," she said lightly.

Probably you should have been shocked but you realized that Jinx had grown up in this milieu, she had a completely different perception regarding these things.

"So you know what he did?"

"Slit a few throats, dirty and nasty but not uncommon. That's why you ran away?"

Shaking your head you said, "I followed him secretly because I kind of had a feeling something was up and I was right. I was there and I saw him do it. It was just too much. I knew from the beginning that he was doing things like that or something like that, but to actually see it threw me off."

"You have to start getting used to it if you want to stay with him. Or was you leaving already a decision not to?"

You leaned back against the old altar, took one of the candles in your hand, and twirled it absentmindedly between your fingers.

"I don't know. I miss him," you finally spoke honestly.

"Then just go back"

With a sigh your replied, "It's not that simpel. He'll be angry and I'm pretty sure I don't want to face that. The last time he was mad at me he almost killed me, if you remember"

"I'm not angry."

Your head spun around, Silco was standing just a few feet away from you.

"I was angry at first, admittedly, but actually I was just very worried about you" he spoke softly.

You stared at him, like a startled deer frozen in fear. Your hand clung so tightly around the thick candle that the wax under your fingers slowly gave way.

"You're destroying the decorations you made," Jinx remarked.

"What? Shit," you grumbled as you looked at the candle in your hand, the designs were crushed, but instead you could very clearly see your handprint in the wax.

"Jinx would you please leave us alone for a moment?" asked Silco and you would have liked to protest, but that was probably unwise.

Silently, you watched the girl leave the chapel, avoiding Silco's gaze as he finally approached.

"How long have you been listening to us?" you asked directly, but still without looking at him.

He sat down next to you on the steps in front of the altar with some courtesy distance.

"What makes you think I've been eavesdropping?"

"Oh please," you snorted, "I'm not as naive as you think. Once you saw I wasn't alone and heard us talking about you, you were definitely eavesdropping, hoping for enough info to manipulate me."

Silco gritted his teeth.

"So you think I'm manipulating you?" he asked quietly.

"I think you wouldn't shy away from that to get what you want. I've seen you do worse things," you sneered.

Of course you were right, and he admitted that openly: "That's right. I would do anything to get you back, including manipulation."

Surprised, you finally looked at him.

"Why? What do you need me for anyway? I don't fit into your world, your life" you replied to him.

His look seemed almost sad as he looked at you.

"I thought you knew that by now."

With a sigh, you turned your gaze away again, staring at the ruined candle in your hand.

"No, I don't" you spoke softly "You never tell me".

"Do I have to? Don't actions speak louder than words?"

" Seriously?" you asked a bit snarky "Which of your actions is it that is supposed to tell me this one particular thing?"

When he didn't answer, you stood up, but his hand shot up and tightened around your wrist like a vice.

"Don't go" he said almost in a whisper "I can't bear it if you go".

His voice trembled slightly, the composed, cool facade crumbling.

Silco grabbed your other wrist with his other hand and pulled you back down to him, close to him. Your faces were only a few inches apart when he said urgently, "I need you, Y/N!"

"Why?" you asked so softly he barely heard.

"Because I love you."

There they were, the three words, for the first time. It sounded honest, but you knew he was a good liar. But why would he lie about that?

He saw in your face that you were thinking.

"You're not saying anything," he remarked uncertainly.

You laughed softly and said, "Honestly, I'm surprised you actually said it."

Silco took a deep breath, took his hands off your wrists and cupped your face. He kissed you softly on your lips, finally leaned his forehead against yours and said, "Come home, little flower."

It had gotten darker, but you had only noticed that casually.You hadn't answered him yet because you weren't sure if it was what you wanted. It was raining cats and dogs, and the water was falling through the holey roof. Within moments you were both wet to the bone. The look he gave you, with his wet hair, the strands hanging lose in his forehead, made him look unusually vulnerable.

"Please," he finally said "Let's go home, together."

@puffball-lover554 @sparrow-rise

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tatertotcosmonaut · 3 years

Text

Personal Voice Headcanons for DC Villains

These are just some personal headcanons that I have for Dc villains, mainly Gotham-based villains.

* Scarecrow- Silco (Arcane)

I always imagined Crane having a softer voice yet still very intimidating in the way that it feels like an ambush predator ready to strike. It’s mockingly comforting and shows his weary years.

* Riddler- Codot ( @/codotafterdark)

Sorry I just cannot imagine a better Riddler voice. Codot does an amazing job voice acting the Riddler and I always think of his voice when it comes to the Riddler.

* Mr Freeze- Dracula (Castlevania)

Dracula has the perfect ice-biting tone needed when it comes to Mr Freeze. A heartlessness that comes from grief of a close loved one. The voice is naturally intimidating but turns calming when around those he loves.

* Poison Ivy- Tempest Shadow (MLP)

Tempest has the dry and tired sarcasm that I imagine Ivy would have. She’s naturally serious but can make her serious tone alluring when she needs to. She wants things her way always.

* Catwoman- Anivia (League of Legends)

A voice that I think fits the deceptive softness that Selina displays. It’s a trap to get people to, wrongfully, relax around her. Anivia’s voice is stern but not harsh, which I think also fits Selina well.

*Killer Croc- Cad Bane (Book of Boba Fett)

Guttural, harsh, and weary. I think a more grizzled and tired voice for Waylon, yet still threatening and harsh, fits very well. He’s still a capable killer, but he’s grown pretty nonchalant or grumpy over time.

*Two-Face: Logan (Wolverine and the X-men)

Gruff and Irritated. Less a ticking time bomb and more someone who has been a lawyer for too long and is just naturally argumentative and tired of the cases they handle.

#dc comics #dc villains #scarecrow #two face #catwoman #poison ivy #killer croc #mr freeze #the riddler #selina kyle #jonathan crane

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mischiefmuses · 2 years

Text

small starter call post event because I am going on hiatus from tomorrow. I am capping it at 3 each just to not get overwhelmed because I will keep the event threads. (these can be transitioned to post event as well).

Loki Laufeyson - Marvel/Aware (??/3)

Yennefer of Vengerberg - The Witcher/Aware (??/3)

Rabastan Lestrange - Harry Potter/Aware (1/3) - Voldemort

Billy Loomis - Scream/Aware (1/3) - Randy

Cleo Mckinnon - Harry Potter/Aware (??/3)

Charles Xavier - X-Men/Aware (??/3)

Cullen Rutherford - Dragon Age/Aware (??/3)

Peter Ballard - Stranger Things/Unaware (??/3)

Fleur Delacour - Harry Potter/Aware (2/3) - Ivy, Gabrielle

Hunter - Star Wars/Aware (??/3)

Jorah Mormont - Game of Thrones/Aware (??/3)

Kirby Reed - Scream/Aware (??/3)

Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy - Star Trek/Aware (??/3)

Parker - Leverage/Aware (??/3)

Peter Hale - Teen Wolf/Aware (1/3) - Stiles

Satine Kryze - Star Wars/Aware (??/3)

Sion Val Palpatine - Star Wars/Aware (??/3)

Tenel Ka Djo - Star Wars/Aware (??/3)

Ygritte - Game of Thrones/Aware (??/3)

Angel - Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Aware (??/3)

Cordelia Goode - American Horror Story Coven/Aware (??/3)

Silco - Arcane/Aware (??/3)

#hw: starter call #mini starter call

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

Text

Well. I made a podfic. 😅 Or started it, at least. Full heads up that this recording WILL include OC name (Ivy!), though still second person POV. Also, super unfortunately there’s some popping in the intro, but it disappears for the actual chapter.

Title: A Helping Hand

Track: Intro + Prologue

Author: x-amount-verbs (it’s me!)

Read by: x-amount-verbs (:D)

Chapter: AO3 Link Tumblr Link

[reader x silco (eventual)] [1.5k words] [no y/n] [during time skip] [henchperson reader] [SFW] [minor body horror]

Full fic: AO3 Link Tumblr Link

#podfic #silco x reader #silco x ivy #arcane podfic #silco/reader #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand #x-amount-narrates #silco x f!reader #eventual smut

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

Text

A Helping Hand - Part 26

[start here] || Part 25 || Part 26 || Part 27

[ @dad-dumpster ’s art for 25 if you missed it!] [Ivy art by @thesaltybuns ]

[silco x f!reader] [4.3k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [explicit] [D/s] [glove kink] [impact play] [light humiliation] [sadism/masochism] [good tears] [sexual content] [edging] [crop, cane, hands]

AO3 Link

It’s a long pause.

Did you do something wrong? Say something wrong? Oh gods, did you cross some line?

Tempted to bite your cheek, you instead opt to apologize. “I’m s—” The word becomes a yip of surprise at the firm snap of the crop.

“Again. Correctly this time.”

Another snap.

The words are mostly just breathed, but they’re clear in the silence of the room. “Thank you, Sir.”

The feeling coursing through you is fucking amazing, some combination of shame and bliss and indulgence, the pain a perfect complement to the guilty pleasure of it.

“…I seem to have lost count.” The evenness to his tone suggests otherwise, the smooth soft leather of the crop’s tress soothing heated skin. Little taps make you startle, anticipating another blow, but no, just teasing little thip thip thips before the flat presses between your legs again.

There’s not enough pressure to grind against the implement, but just enough friction for you to feel the damp pull along your folds. Mouth pressed tight, trying not to hum or whine, you fail on both counts.

Silco’s voice is low but lacking the usual cocky edge. Like all his attention is on staying even-keeled. “You are always welcome to voice your gratitude.”

And then it begins again, never dropping much below the highest level of the last set.

You’re practically panting by the fourth strike. By eight you’ve thanked him twice more, and have melted forward, half-collapsed against the desk. The next strike seems to miss its exacting target, instead hitting half on skin and half on the edge of your underwear.

To your mortification, you realize you’d rather not be wearing any. Your hand is halfway down to its target when Silco steps back, crop well away from your skin.

“Do you need-” to stop?

“No!” You interrupt before he can ask. “No, I just-”

You hesitate, fingers twitching as you register your own action. What are you doing? This is— this is—

…It’s not asking, though. It’s not pleading or begging or asking for him to touch you, not with words. Just…

Hesitantly, you bring fingers to the waistband of your underwear, plucking at the hemline unintentionally. Eyes stay squeezed shut, nervous sweat beading on the forehead you have pressed to the desktop.

The room falls into silence so complete you can hear the brush of fabric against your skin as you tentatively hook your thumb in the waistband and drag down, feeling the radiating heat from your reddened ass and thighs as you do so.

Cool air against your sodden heat makes you draw in an audible breath, movement faltering. Your courage wanes— or maybe your stupidity passes— and you clumsily bring your hand back to the desk, back to the position you know is acceptable and comfortable despite the pressure on your elbows, without finishing the job. Just half-lowered underwear left to barely cover you from Silco’s gaze.

It’s silent.

Completely silent.

Your brain starts to whirr, starts to panic, to replay the last few minutes and determine if you went wrong somewhere. He wants you, doesn’t he? Or is it a case of him finding you less attractive than the power he holds over you? Did you cross a boundary again? Will he pull away again? Leave you wet and wanting, displayed across his desk in all your shame?

The longer the stillness stretches, the tighter your head feels, the louder your labored breaths seem, the more constricted your throat.

Your stomach starts to sink. A different kind of fear, a different kind of anxiety, a nausea at the prospect that you have made a terrible mistake.

It simmers for too long.

The brush of the leather tress against your bare ass makes you jump, a pathetic sound of relief and blatant need pulling in your throat. On the verge of tears as the crop catches to - painfully slowly - finish the move you started, dragging fabric lower. The way the last bit clings between your legs is damning.

He’s so quiet.

The crop pushes the fabric down along one leg, until your spread stance offers resistance. Then it moves to the other leg to trace its way back up. The slow tease only serves to make your need that much hungrier. Fists tighten on the desk, lip between your teeth.

“Ah-!” The little snap against your sex makes you cry out, the wet of it making the slap sound that much more obvious. Toes curl, and you find yourself subtly shifting, opening your stance like it can tempt him to alleviate your gnawing hunger.

The crop drags against your lips before pulling back.

Still no words.

Please say something. Please. Tell me I’m good, tell me this is okay, tell me you want me, please.

Nothing.

Your disappointment is overshadowed, however, as you hear him - feel him - step forward. No longer a crop’s distance away.

Then soft leather brushes burning skin: two of Silco’s fingers whispering against the reddened marks, tracing the curve around, then down. Two fingers hardly making contact, splitting to a V to skim around where you truly need him as he pushes his hand between your legs.

Your frustrated whimper breaks to a sharp breath as his path back drags one gloved finger firmly down the center of you. It’s a hint of friction but not nearly enough, even if the slight press of his fingertip teasing at your entrance makes you clench.

Fucking hell, you need him. He’s so close, can’t he just—

Your groan of frustration burbles in your chest, followed by another whine. This is what he does to you: reduces you to wordless noise and carnal appetite.

As on-edge as you are, your ears practically prick up at the hint of noise behind you. A heavy exhale. A low hum.

Anticipation shivers up your spine.

A dry digit brushes one flushed thigh, very briefly. “…Step out of them.” His voice doesn’t need to be loud in such a quiet space.

Mouth dry, you hurriedly obey as best you can without being able to see your shoes, nearly falling sideways the first time one boot gets caught, and leaning forward to at least get one foot free and resume your position.

Please touch me. Please.

You can’t say it - won’t say it - only feel it: a mantra on repeat in your head.

Please please please.

The slight huff of a laugh sounds at your back, and then you hear fabric shift again. You startle at the feeling of his elbow knocking one sock-clad calf while hands skim down the other, and you curse high boots for existing and stopping you from properly feeling his hands as he lifts one foot for you so he can untangle the fabric.

He must turn his head, because an involuntary little squeak escapes you when breath breezes against you. The prospect of being face-to-cunt with him was not something you expected today. You feel entirely too seen, too examined, too self-conscious to have him staring straight at you so shamelessly.

But gods, you want more.

Hips shift like you can get him closer, already imagining his tongue rolling against you—

And then he’s standing again, so soon. The disappointed breath sighs out of you.

“Six more strokes,” he reminds you, smirk audible. “And four more, for staining my tools.” The smug tone of that smoky voice wraps you around his finger, toying with you like a cat with a mouse. “Impossible to get the smell of cunt out of leather. …As you may very well know.”

The rush of heat to your face makes you dizzy. Silco very rarely swears, and to choose to use it in this context, for your body…

Without any preamble, still distracted by his taunting, you’re caught off guard by the particularly harsh impact of the crop in just the right spot, and the keening cry you let loose is uncomfortably loud until you hide it against your good fist, still left breathing heavily.

The tongue of the crop smooths over the sting, but you need more. One taste of his hand wasn’t enough. You crave his touch, hunger for—

His hands rubbing away the pain, fingers straying to toy with your pussy, kneading your ass like a damned masseur—

His satisfied hum vibrates low in the air, and it has you whimpering against your own skin.

“…You really are more than I ever imagined…”

The words alone send a rush of arousal to painfully harden your nipples, clenching around nothing. Fuck— that didn’t make anything easier.

Another smack of the crop and you stifle your noise, mouth opening to pant against your fist, top teeth catching on a knuckle and digging in lightly.

Does he imagine you, then? The way you’ve imagined him? The way you're imagining him, cock in hand plunging deep into you in one rough thrust that makes your eyes roll and your body buck. Shit—

Two more snaps against skin in quick succession and you’re shaking. A little hiccup of surprise as the tool slides between your thighs again.

The little taps of the crop against your sex are so fucking teasing, but you swore not to plead, so you’re left with the hot wet breath of a half-gagged thank you moaned against your fist.

You are far from thankful.

Well— yes, you’re thankful, but he’s absolutely tormenting you, and all you want to do is beg him to touch you already, but instead your own stupid rules drag it out further when you just want him to fuck you, good gods—

A particularly well-placed slap of the crop’s tongue hits your clit and your body jerks forward with your muffled cry, eyes snapping open, back arching and hips squirming, legs trembling as you whimper after. Feeling halfway to orgasm already, your gaze is foggy, eyelids weighed down by lust, mind incapable of anything but being present.

It’s fucking amazing.

Any and all anxiety, self-consciousness, doubt— if it’s there at all, it serves a purpose: it’s for him, an offering, and he’s paying you back with unwavering attention. Fear heightens arousal, shame turning it all perverse and delicious, and despite being treated like a damned horse with the amount your flanks are being slapped, it’s validating somehow.

You feel demeaned, maybe, but— but you feel desired.

…Now you just need him to fucking touch you already.

The crop turns on its edge and drags through your folds on the way back, the curve of it teasing your entrance. You’re tempted to chase after it, desperate, needing anything for stimulation. But his hands were right there, even if not skin to skin, and you want more.

Please.

There’s a pause, and you sense words unspoken. What is he stopping himself from saying? You need to know, you need— him, you need him.

Please.

“…Have you had enough?”

“Nnnh-” You whine around your knuckle, remembering just in time that no is off limits.

Silco must be expecting a yes.

“…You don’t want me to stop? To find some alternative way of meting out your remaining punishment?” The question comes with a stroke of the crop against your heat that promises much more pleasant options.

But that’s not the point. That’s what you want (and desperately). But this is about proving he wants you. It’s the only thought left in your addled mind.

You don’t say no. You don’t say yes, either, despite how badly you want whatever alternative he’s offering. And you absolutely refuse to say please.

The crop pulls away and you tense expectantly for another strike. Instead, you almost jump at the sound of the item being placed on the desk.

The way he says your name is stern, but not angry. Being acknowledged that way immediately overwhelms you. The person you are now isn’t her, it’s someone with less agency, fewer expectations, blissfully free of difficult decisions. Reconciling that with your everyday identity is half terrifying, half thrilling.

“Speak freely.” His voice is low, even. “Do you want to stop?”

“I—” You choke on the word. Gods, can’t he just do? Why does he have to make you choose? Teeth sink into your skin again as you muffle your helpless whine.

“Do you want to continue?” This time there’s a touch of exasperation in his tone, and you feel like an idiot. It’s just a yes or no question, why are you making it such a big deal?

Because it matters. It matters that he wants this. That it’s not just indulging your perverse little whims, but something he chooses you for.

When you don’t answer, Silco lets out a tight sigh. “What do you want, sweet, I can’t read your mind.”

‘Sweet.’ Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s not how he means it, you’re sure, the dry delivery made his mockery clear enough, but still.

“I—” You struggle to find the words. “It’s— it’s up to you.”

A pause. You feel him shift closer again, feeling magnetized to his presence behind you. “…Up to me?” he muses.

You swallow. “Yes, Sir.” Please touch me.

The whisper of contact as his hand hovers above your lower back has you sucking in a sharp breath. Yes.

“…Jumpy…” he teases, tracing a finger along where your skirt has been flipped up onto your back, reminding you again of the embarrassing position he’s put you in. Leather brushes skin as he smooths down the round of your ass, delicately— before groping the bottom curve in a harsh grip.

Yesyesyesyes. You stifle your noise even as you throb for him, that itch behind your navel winding tighter.

“So if I chose to give the rest of your punishment a different way…” Silco’s gloved fingers barely tease your slit, rubbing that edge where your inner thigh ends. “You’d accept that?”

Mindless. You’re mindless for him, just needy. “Yes, Sir,” you breathe, trying to press yourself back into his grip, needing his fingers inside you.

The soft breath of laughter makes your face flood with heat for the umpteenth time. Burning up for him. “Hmm, I’m afraid only good girls get their hungry little cunts filled.”

Fuck— the words alone make your eyes roll back, flattening your cheek to the desk with a groan, as you lift to your tiptoes and try to grind on his hand.

The sharp swat discourages you, in theory, but instead you want more. Anything to keep his hands on you. Your hips shift restlessly, panting mouth nearly drooling around the already reddened knuckle wedged between your teeth.

“Rude little sluts get punished.” His kneading hand is rough, but the leather still manages to soothe the earlier heat from his aforementioned punishment.

The term is so completely unfitting that you can’t possibly see it referring to anything beyond your behavior toward him. You certainly haven’t slept with someone in a long while, and yet the filthy thoughts you’ve had about your boss quite easily put your real experiences to shame.

“‘Up to me,’” Silco repeats in a mutter; “You really want to do that?” An audible sneer belies the approving little hum that comes after, the assuring way he gives your hip a short squeeze.

“Yeh thuh,” spoken around your hand.

His thumb draws a little spiral absently as he shifts, and you hear one of the disciplinary implements sliding from the desk beside you, even if you’re turned away from it. You have your suspicions well before he steps back and you feel the cane sliding against your warmed skin.

“Six strokes left,” he reminds you. “And you prefer pain over pleasure?”

Your whine is in place of the no you both want and don’t want to say. Of course you’d prefer pleasure. But all the pain he’s doled out has only served to raise your arousal, blood flowing to those bits of your anatomy that are making you positively ravenous at the moment.

The cane taps lightly against you, making you tense in expectation, but it’s never hard. Just enough to keep you on edge. No answer means it’s not a yes. “Can you take it?”

A better question. “Yes, Si-” You squeak in surprise as the cane thwacks against your ass rather than your thighs. It’s somehow worse and much better. The pain still hurts, but there’s a much deeper satisfaction, a pleasant throb between your legs as you take it.

“One. More?”

You’re breathless, still recovering from your last strike, but manage a weak, “mhm,” of confirmation.

“Words.” The cane taps gently against you again, a warning. He can always add more to your tally.

After a second, you recover enough to say, “Yes, Sir.”

You’re expecting the next strike; it’s a little easier to take once you’re mentally prepared.

“Two. Still want to leave it up to me?” It’s practically a taunt. A warning. You realize he’s asking permission, asking if he can go harder than this.

“Yes, Sir.” After a split second hesitation, while he continues the teasing little taps, you add, “Thank you, Sir.” He could’ve just done it, he didn’t have to ask. Even if he hid it under a layer of mockery.

The cane stops for a second. “…You’re welcome.”

Then he hits hard, hard enough that you yelp, jolting against the desk.

“If you’re not careful someone might hear you,” Silco warns, a hint of wickedness to his tone. “That was three.”

You pant, legs weak. But bow your head to press your forehead to the desk and make sure you’re standing straight. “Thank you, Sir.” Another. You can take it, and you want to take it.

“Four.”

The cry catches in your throat and you hear rather than feel the ceramic against wood as your bad hand flattens from its fist, jerking out sideways as your knees give out just like they did the first time. It stings— and aches, in a way that reminds you of the day after a good workout, only the skin is far warmer.

But that all flees your mind entirely as a gloved hand massages the sting away. The cane makes its little clatter against the desktop and then both his hands are on you, and you have the sudden mortifying urge to cry.

“Good girl,” Silco’s voice is throatier than you expect, one hand rubbing a thumb in circles at your waist as the other soothing you far more gently than before. “Very good,” he hums, and it may be the warmest you’ve heard him.

Your whimper comes out more like a sob. It isn’t even the pain: it’s the affection. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Tears burn in your eyes, and so much of it is relief.

“Taking everything I gave you…” The low murmur is shockingly lacking edge. “Such a good girl.”

Okay, yes, you’re crying. It’s just— it’s such a relief. The pain, the soft touch afterward, the fizz of hormones flooding your system that have you half out of reality. And more than that— there’s something about this, about taking pain. It’s like… the ability to show your devotion without needing to say it out loud. Proving something without having to swallow your pride to admit it. And being rewarded for that devotion, with reassuring touch, even if it's not as much as you want. You want too much. You want to be surrounded by him— you want to touch him.

“I think…” His hand drops between your legs again, “perhaps an alternative, to settle your account.” Petting you, a teasing softness that hardly brushes slick skin.

You shiver and moan and bite your lip, humming to keep the please from breaking free as he strokes you gently, somehow tormenting you again after seeming to promise not to.

Unless…

Firmer, never seeming to fully touch anything quite enough, only ever dipping the tip of his finger but never going inside, only pressing around your clit but never brushing it directly. You try - really try - to get more friction, more pressure, just more— squirming and grinding and trying so damn hard.

The hand on your waist squeezes before shifting to press your back, push you firmly down on the desk. “Hold still, sweet; you still owe me two strokes.” You can hear the self-satisfied smirk.

Tears of relief are forgotten in favor of growing frustration, feeling yourself wound so damned tight that you’re sure you could cum the second he thrust inside you. But he doesn’t. Just rubs and teases and thumbs without ever fucking you like you need.

The throb between your legs is unbearable. The keening whine is as close to begging as you’ll allow yourself, eyes glazed and half closed, face twisted with desperation.

Arousal is smeared across his glove, your inner thighs— every motion lewdly audible in a way that shames you as much as it turns you on.

The next time he massages around your clit and then barely brushes the spot where you want more pressure, you let out a frustrated growl, bucking slightly.

His fingers disappear in an instant, a wet slap against your ass as the hand on your back renews its downward force. He’s moved closer; a more convenient angle to push you down, yes, but also maneuvering his hips to stop your wild squirming. But even better— the thing that makes your frustrated movement falter.

You suck in a sharp breath, foggy eyes going wide, a shock of ice and heat hitting you in quick succession.

If you wanted proof he wants you… the hard hot ridge pressed to your oversensitized backside is clear enough.

Silco’s hand comes around your hip to reach from the front to continue his torment, but you’re so fixated on his cock. Right there. Your subtle little gyrations - the best you can manage while pinned to his desk - rub the swell of your ass against him. You relish the subtle shift of his own hips, the pressure in little rolling motions barely discernible unless you stop moving, but the one time you do, just to check, you feel him continue the gentle rocking a second longer, and it feels so damn gratifying.

You feel yourself light up at the realization, a renewed vigor that fucks your brain far more than his fingers are. Your own fervid panting seems to spur him on, his hand bringing you very quickly to the same spot he had you before the brief spanking. His steadily increasing attention has your pulse racing, breath hitching, on the edge of orgasm.

Need coils in your gut, ready to snap, eyes closed as your motions freeze again, body stiffening, trying to keep his hand in the position it just was, in that perfect position you want to keep the pressure just right—

And he pulls away.

The dry sob is sheer agony.

“Punishment, my dear, this is a punishment.” His dark chuckle has tears prickling in your eyes once more. The mocking little coo of sympathy is too damn hot for what an asshole move it is.

“Only one more, sweet,” he promises, shifting his weight in a way that once again emphasizes the weight of his cock pressing against your ass. “…Though I suspect you may be more eager to make our little meetings after this revelatory afternoon.”

Your brain can’t handle his stupid fancy words. Just fuck me already. Pressing your forehead to the desk you groan as the perfectly wound tension loosens again. But you never say please. Won’t fucking do it. As much as he frustrates you, part of you is maliciously delighting in the treatment, loving to hate it, gluttonous for his attention and feasting on it.

“Just one more…” Silco murmurs, idly stroking your back as that hard won arousal ebbs slightly. He gathers your skirt at the waistband in his fist. You’re sad to feel his hips draw away, losing the reassurance of his hot length grinding against you. But then his hand comes back again from behind.

You sink into pleasure faster this time, eager to get back to the heights, to attain that ecstasy before he yanks it away again.

Apparently, your worry is utterly unnecessary.

Fingers stroke along your folds with that all-knowing ease, pressing and circling and rubbing just right, and then his hand turns and his thumb teases you before pressing in with one purposeful move that makes your mouth drop open.

You haven’t touched yourself since that day he gave you his glove; how fitting it is that his gloved hand be the follow-up performance. His thumb feels thick with the added girth of the leather, and the little hint of stretch feels perfect. (Though you assume his cock would be more perfect.)

His other fingers continue to massage and grind as his thumb carefully circles inside you, loosening any anxious tension, the base finding points around your entrance you didn’t realize could provide pleasure. Then Silco adjusts his wrist, places his fingers just so, and presses down.

“Ah-nh!” The mewling whine that pulls from your throat quickly fades to a continuous stream of moans and whimpers, his ministrations ushering you out of your mind as you rapidly ascend the heights.

Presence of mind is fleeting, but it does occur to you to ask— or attempt to do so.

“Can— nnhh— ca-an I— can—” Words are hard.

His hand pulls out and your needy sob is thin in the air before he simply turns his hand and presses a different two fingers in instead, finding that same spot to undulate against as his thumb finds new spots to play with.

“I give orders that can be obeyed,” Silco reminds you, sounding half-breathless himself.

Tighter. Drawn like a wire filament, with electricity humming through you as the voltage increases.

“That wouldn’t be one of them.”

One of what? You can hardly think. Body stiffens, trying to keep his hand right in that magic spot he’s found, clenching around him, already halfway there before he says it.

“Go on. Come for me.”

—

[next part]

[ 😳 *cough*

So uh. Anyway, that was 4k of pure smut ahahahah 😅 Hope you enjoyed?? Really got into some of the why of submission in a bdsm dynamic tbh; hopefully it resonates and/or explains something ><

Once again I ask that if you enjoyed you reblog the post, since I have no idea how tumblr tags pick what to boost or not. Also I love love love seeing the tags and comments y’all leave, both here and on ao3. I live off reactions to my work 😈

I may or may not end up writing a reverse POV for this whole business, but if I do you may want to be on the tag list so you know when it goes up, since the reverse POVs go up on tumblr well before they’re ever added to the ao3 series of reverse POVs. You can join the tag list by commenting on this linked post.

Thanks for stickin’ it out. I know this was a long time coming. Please don’t hate me for next chapter ;u; ❤️ -verbs]

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#silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco/reader #silco #silco arcane #smut #mdni #a helping hand #wip:a helping hand #x-amount-writes

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