#that Silco himself would have drawn the line

[goddessofroyalty]

wait what if Mylo had actually caused Silco to be infertile?

Like what if Silco had some major injuries (even more that usual for his case, I guess) when he gave birth to Mylo?

Also did Marcus eventually become sheriff in your AU?

(I like that baby face Dilf but the man was clearly willing to accept bribe from shady ass Silco in the original show)

I mean that's kind of the theory in Silco's head in the verse where they never have another one despite not doing anything to prevent it. He just never actually bothers to get it checked out to confirm because there's never been any other signs of possibly more dangerous results and... they have 5 kids. That is plenty of kids in his mind even if he might of liked to have one more.

Like I mentioned previously there's probably a bit of an in-joke in the family that Mylo did something to prevent any younger siblings happening.

From an 'I am the author and god of this verse' perspective? Ehhh yeah probably. Although the fact that both Silco and Vander are heavy smokers and drinkers didn't help.

(little bit more under the cut because birth complications/trauma stuff)

As for Marcus I'm torn because like I so want him to be sheriff but I also am keeping Grayson alive. IDK she gets a promotion some time between what is Act One and Act Two timeline wise (to Comissioner? let's just pretend that's a slightly higher role) so he gets Sheriff. Either that or Grayson is still Sheriff and he's like the immediate next highest position until she retires.

He is abslutely still being bribed and then blackmailed by Silco though. And he hates it. He's constantly trying to get Piltover to turn on Silco and the family but in a like... comically nonthreatening way. Nobody belives him when he tells them the Zaun Representative who represents Zaun's interests in Piltover is also the Eye of Zaun who runs most of the illegal business that happens in Zaun (similarly that Powder the ‘princess of Zaun’ is Jinx a violent Zaunite terrorist).

(And, yes, the 'family crest' Silco makes is the same Eye symbol with his and Vander's initials in it like the canon - Grayson is being willfully blind about the truth but most of Piltover just doesn't care)

Back to the first point - Silco also doesn't know if the possibly infertility is the result of the birth itself (or something Mylo did while being born) or the result of what the midwife/doctor did to stop him from bleeding out after things went bad after Mylo was born.

He was probably told that what happened may affect his fertility going forward. But again, the fact that this was his third meant that even with him having enough wealth to investigate if he needed to he was probably advised only to if a sign of something else more worrying started happening. Yes, I think having up to double-digits worth of kids wouldn't be uncommon in Zaun but I also think having three kids would be considered not a bad run, especially considering Silco's track record with births. The midwife probably says that if this does cause him to be infertile it might be for the best.

When Silco's being particularly blunt with the ""joke"" about Mylo preventing other siblings from happening it's that "[Mylo] tried to take the womb with him".

[revelisms]

Was there ever a line that you've put a lot of thought or intention into that ended up being loaded with things you think people might have missed when reading? If there is: what is it, and what's behind it?

Big ramble here because I think this is a fascinating question.

TL;DR - There's definitely a lot of lines that have had more thought/intention behind them, but it's tough to say whether these have been missed or not. With dialogue especially, I think a lot of it boils down to interpretation - and I personally love having a bit of ambiguity there. It's why I tend to be drawn more to characters where there's a potential for self-conflict, because ultimately, I think that should be up to interpretation and what the conflict translates to for the reader.

This is a huge part of why I find Silco to be fun to write. He's deeply complicated, he's a sympathetic villain, he has a cutthroat rationale for how he views the world - and yet, for all of this, he often canonically contradicts himself, and in my view reveals more vulnerability than he perhaps intends.

For instance, there's a line in 'both sides of the moon' where Sevika calls him out for safeguarding Jinx's mistakes above all else, even the crew's safety. It escalates to them getting inches from a fight, but Silco throws out the line: "Are you sure you want to play this game?"

In this context, it's meant to be a final warning: Back down now, or else. But there's a double-edgeness to it, because this scene has an intentional, and intentionally muddy, layer of intimacy and arousal: both in a heightened-anxiety sense and a sexual sense.

While he's threatening her, he's also acknowledging her - because she's able to go head-to-head with him as an equal in ways few others would dare - and while that intrigues him, it's also incredibly frightening, because it means she sees him. She can handle him. (Like Vander could.)

So the question is also trying to force a sort of confirmation out of her, and ultimately does: Do you see this? Do you want this? How dare you, if you do? (Which is still its own threat, because of how guarded he is - he is isn't able to admit that he may want that intimacy, out of his own desire to be seen.)

So there's lots of lines I've written with him specifically that have that kind of layered intention.

This is also why I've really started gravitating to writing Terzo recently. I personally view him as a very messy character with lots of self-contradictions, for all his surface-level wit and ease, e.g.: his desire to modernize the church directly conflicts with his stature in a very archaic, ritualized familial hierarchy; his desire to be understood and accepted directly conflicts with his resistance towards giving others access to him and letting them in; the way he gravitates to (and imo uses) the "performance" of his charm/relationships/sex as a way to foster that sense of intimacy, without being fully vulnerable himself, is rife with conflict.

And all of this is foundationally built on the fact that he is Nihil's son, more-so in personality than perhaps any of them.

There's an opening line in 'creator, brother, son' that is explicitly getting at this: "Don't you want to be [...] mirror to some piece of this: moon-slash of his wretchedness, recklessness, fawning fingers pleasure-peaked sharp-tongued wickedness—"

And it's very flowery, but this is really talking about Terzo being a mirror to Nihil: the face in the moon to his own complications, as a person who can be extremely short-tempered, rash-decisioned, and flirtatious, with a tongue that can bring pleasure as much as say truly vile and hurtful things.

This is something Terzo recognizes in himself and resents. It's also why he and Nihil have had years of rockiness in their own relationship: because having Terzo succeed (as he was expected and desired to do) would also mean having Nihil usurped by his own son, who carries so much of his own traits that are both better and miles worse: a mirror of his own successes and failures.

At the end of the day, though, I'm really more interested in having readers build their own ideas of what characters' emotions and motivations are in a scene. It's great to bring people along on the same page, but I also love hearing what others pull away from it :-)

[insult-2-injury]

The Politics of Power- Chapter 1

Modern AU! Professor Silco x FemReader

The enigmatic Professor Silco takes you in as his grad student assistant. It's only one semester, just how hard could it be?

Eventually Explicit | 2.3K WC | AO3 LINK

Chap 2 | Chap 3

Reader Insert, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Fluff, Student/Teacher Relationship

Thank you to @sweatandwoe and @truthandadare for helping me out with ideas on where to take this story! <3

Chapter 1

To say you were hot was an understatement.  And the oppressive cashmere clinging to your neck and torso did little to abate the warm flush that was quickly dampening your skin. It was still early fall, the world autumn-tinted enough that it would have tricked any reasonable person into packing away their summer clothes, you reasoned.

Cruel Fates.

Damn this school for its lack of public transportation. And damn yourself for choosing to wear a turtleneck on today of all days.

A black twill trench coat was slung across the crook of your arm as you raced across campus. You had briefly toyed with abandoning the bulky thing on the bus stop bench to remove its weight, except, it really did complete the outfit. Layered you, you hoped, in an air of professionalism that separated you from the other grad students. Covered the ratty backside of your pleated skirt that kissed the tops of your kneecaps.

You’d so wanted to put on a good face for your first day as a teaching assistant, look half decent for once, and now you’d be showing up late, sweaty and red-faced. He was going to think you uncivilized.

Although, from word of mouth alone, the man was a bit unrefined himself.

You’d done your research, asked questions, read the online reviews.

Professor Silco. The way he was portrayed, he seemed one, big contradictive conundrum. Passionate yet aloof. Accessible yet reclusive.

‘Tough grader.’

‘Hard to please.’

It appeared those with weak knees didn’t make it far in his class.

But people were meddlesome. People were callous. And most of what you’d plucked off the social grapevine about him surrounded the topic of his scars. The ones that allegedly decorated half of his face.

You’d been sitting at the library only days prior when you’d overheard. Hideous. Hard to focus on learning when- And that was as much as you had been able to tolerate out of two particularly scorned students before you had excused yourself abruptly from your seat, a sickly, unexpected anger slithering through your stomach as their conversation had continued.

This year was a year of promises. And you’d promised yourself to only blow up on very special occasions.

Not to say the man didn’t sound anything short of an asshole.

Based on his email responses to you, he was no-nonsense, replying to your valid inquiries with short, sometimes one-word responses that were on the fringes of belittling. It had you wondering what had made him select you, what qualifications you'd had that had stood you out from the rest. Or perhaps no one else had been daring or stupid enough to apply in the first place.

Vander had drawn a hard line when you’d raised the idea, expressly forbidding you to accept the position under him. Hadn’t given a reason as to why. Just that the guy was bad news. But frankly, you didn't much care. You weren’t one of Vander’s elite wunderkind anymore, and hadn't stayed number one for long. You'd been too quiet and perplexing to hold onto his attention, but clever enough to stay in his good graces, feeding off the opportunistic scraps his little fellowship provided.

But still, despite your several glowing recommendations and a pretty robust resume, Professor Silco had quite strangely been the only professor to accept your application. Deep down, you were a bit stung by it, but they would have to knock you out and drag you off campus to get you to forfeit those tuition benefits.

Vander would just have to tolerate it. Once you told him, that is.

So, stalwartly, you pushed forward with no small amount of eagerness about meeting the eccentric man, and a healthy amount of trepidation at the chastising you’d most likely receive at being late on your first day.

The University of Zaun was like a standalone Gothic village, tucked away from bustling Piltover in a valley between two mountain ranges, shrouded always in a translucent fog. Obscured by high peaks from East to West, the sun just barely touched here, glinting brilliantly across the tops of the University’s towering, spired architecture.

The rose windows. The jutting stone buttresses. The vaulted arches that made you feel so deliciously small. It was like walking across the courtyard of a stately castle.

Some people found it dreary here. You found it rather cozy.

The only thing you had time to relish in right now, however, was the temperature drop as you booked it across campus, the sweat cooling on your skin.

Yanking open the giant oak doors of the social sciences building, you shoved your way through several perturbed students, searching as you went. There were no numbered doors here, no, that would be much too tacky. Instead, adjacent to each door there were gold-embossed plaques etched with class names, in no discernible order. Frankly, you’d always found them stupid. And haughty.

Anthropology 101, no. Economics, definitely no.

Bingo. Political Theory.

There was no sliver of window to peek through, but a deep, melodic voice drifted from inside. Made you want to just stand there and listen for a while. But you couldn’t.

You flung your coat on haphazardly, cinching it tightly around your waist, and wiped a bead of sweat off your brow.

You turned the handle as quiet as you could manage, the door squeaking on its hinges.

The voice abruptly stopped.

It would have been best, you realized in dismay, if you had just waited outside until class ended. Followed those silly little gold plaques to his office and stood outside it, prepared with an excuse and your sincerest apologies.

Bit late for that, you thought, hiding still behind the security of the half-open, wooden door.

“Either come in, or don’t.”

The low warning was formidable enough to push you forward and into the small classroom. Oh, how profoundly aware you were, standing there, of the fact that the full room’s attention was on you. But this was no time to lose your nerve. You ignored the sea of eyes, instead locating the only pair you cared the opinion of, to send him an apologetic glance.

And you faltered again.

Professor Silco was slanted back against the front of his desk, one booted foot hooked behind the opposite ankle, arms crossed easily, yet you could feel the chokehold he had over the room, even as he eyed the intruder.

Those scars. Ruinous and etched deeply into the skin on the left side of his face, like rivers carving through a canyon. They began a few inches above his temple, clawing their way down to the bow of his thin lips.

And his eyes. You couldn’t find your way out of their hellfire if you wanted to. The one nearest you was a shocking shade of blue. Teal almost. Half-lidded in its probing judgment. The other was pure obsidian inlaid with a fiery ring of orange.

You needed to see it up close. Needed to be under its flickering damnation. Just to see how it felt.

You shook away the bizarre inclination.

You’d known full well he was younger, early forties at most. Yet, somehow, surprise lit into you anyway, still half expecting, based on your brief interactions over email, to see a cantankerous old man, teaching well beyond his years, wrinkled and scowling.

And he was scowling alright, but he was decidedly handsome in a wicked, unconventional way. And maybe that was what had you standing there like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler.

For a moment suspended in time, you swore there was mutual surprise, a split-second glint of an unfed curiosity in his gaze as he swept your nervous form.

Then it was gone, his face ironing into a perfect impassivity as he uncrossed his arms, shifted himself forward to address everyone with an upward lilt in his tone that told you everything going forward was at your expense.

“What is fifteen minutes late, anyhow, right class? What say we allow my new assistant to introduce herself, since she’s so keen on disrupting.”

The hand wrapped around the handle of your book bag tightened into a hard fist, your nails digging into your palms, centering your wobbling grasp on reality.

“Come, then.”

It was mortifying, the moment you realized that you’d been staring blankly at him for God knows how long, lost in your swarm of buzzing thoughts.

“Right,” you stuttered, face heating up. “My name.”

The unscarred corner of Professor Silco’s lips tilted up into a smirk of mild amusement and you had to tear your gaze away, feeling like a bitter little bug under a microscope as you made your way to the front of the room.

You were good at a lot of things; improvised public speaking was not one of them.

Vander had always pushed you to practice ‘using your voice’, acting as if you’d been born with an innate politician’s tongue and were just too timid to break out of your shell. But you weren’t the orating trailblazer he’d imagined you to be. You just weren’t the monologuing type.

And granted, introductions were extremely doable. You’d done those hundreds of times in your 27 years of life, in front of hundreds of people. But never him. Somehow Professor Silco’s proximity had your mind going haywire, attempting to form words like a broken compass trying to find north.

So, after a long, uncomfortable pause, you quietly introduced yourself to the students, hating the looks of pity you received out of a select few. Your name. Your degree. Your interests. Some hilariously woven fiction about being positively fascinated by the study of politics.

And all the while, you felt his mismatched gaze darting across the planes of your face, your reddening ears, your hair. A burning antagonism at the man clasped hands with self-consciousness as you closed out with a small smile.

After a moment, Professor Silco gave a small nod, instructing you to go sit with a haughty tilt of his head.

You couldn’t help it, your smile dropping purposefully, the curtain of your hair hiding from the rest of the class the look of wrath you leveled him with as you passed. A far-off warning bell clanged as his features darkened, something dangerous and intoxicating lifting his lips into the ghost of a smile, as if he knew something you didn’t.

The moment was over in the breadth of a heartbeat.

Thankfully, a couple of students up front were kind enough to scoot over so that you could take a seat at the edge of the table. You fanned out your work neatly, preparing to jot down clarifying questions on the syllabus, wanting to be fully prepared for the semester.

Tougher in practice, it seemed.

That voice. The one that rolled so darkly across the room like a distant clap of thunder. It was near impossible to brush aside.

You tried not to look at him as he spoke. You could tune out. You’d already taken this class. Aced it. Albeit with a different professor. The only thing you needed to do right now was familiarize yourself with the schedule.

But you did peek.

Because he was expensive looking. A crisp, burgundy dress shirt clung perfectly to his stream-lined torso, tucking into black, slim-fitting dress pants, cinched with a large, brass-buckled belt. He was hugged by a waistcoat, also black, decorated exquisitely with gold detailing. Boots of the same two color schemes fitted his feet and a cotton, raven-colored scarf wrapped his neck loosely. 

Professor Silco was trim, his features impossibly sharp, chiseled of a brilliant marble. His dark hair was styled back, a single, sophisticated band of grey striping backward from his hairline. A refined nose, its blade sharp, cut through the air as he spoke passionately, about what you didn’t know, as you were too busy watching those long-fingered hands wave through the air to emphasize each word as if hammering them into your skull one by one.

You shook your head.

Resolutely, you glared down at the syllabus. And each time his brilliant gaze fell on you, you’d sense it at the crown of your head, startling slightly, gaze pulling upward like a magnet of an opposite pole. And it was always a second too long that he held on, you thought, before he’d roll onward to his next victim. Or was it all in your head?

What did it matter anyway?

Before long, class was dismissed and you sat as quiet as a mouse, observing him unabashedly beneath your lashes. Students filed out, some stopping to greet and introduce themselves to you. Most to Professor Silco. It was hard not to smile slightly at his general aloofness.

And then there were two.

Professor Silco wasn't paying you mind as he gathered his things in his gold-clasped briefcase, and you didn't want to interrupt.

Would he abandon you? Forget you were sitting here at all?

It wouldn't be the first time.

Facing the chalk board at the front of the room, he addressed you suddenly and your brain hit refresh on all mental processing. You were tossed through hyperspace, your name sounding so utterly profound passing across the threshold of his lips. You blinked, something subtle and strange pulsating gently in your lower stomach.

“Yes?”

He took his time before turning to speak.

"We have much to discuss."

But he was sauntering toward you, not away. 

You used your entire arsenal of willpower to even attempt to keep still as his palpable presence slowly stretched well into the limits of your comfort zone. Until he was standing right there, hips almost brushing the front of the desk.

Professor Silco gazed down at you like you were a funny little thing, perched below him all simply, and you didn't surrender, questioningly cocking your head in lieu of speaking. You wet your suddenly dry lips, and his keen eyes darted to the movement before trailing the curve of your throat as you nervously swallowed.

They lifted to yours again.

“I expected more decorum out of Vander’s prodigy.”

It was the way he said it, a trace of venom lacing through his velvet tone, that made you frown.

“Well, don't," you said bluntly.

His good eyebrow cocked.

"I'm not Vander."

“No,” he said after a moment, something about the furtive, knife-edged tilt of his mouth sending a warning shiver down your spine. "You aren't, are you?"

You couldn't speak. Were entirely mute under the spotlight of his attention.

"Come," he said, turning abruptly.

And you followed.

If you enjoyed and feel inclined, please leave a kudos or comment on AO3. Thank you for reading!

[sxlco]

OMG I’VE READ EROS AND COMPLETLY LOVED IT, The butterflies 🦋🦋🦋

I was wondering, can I request a fic where Silco and reader are friends with benefits? Thank you!

The Bartender | Silco

Pairing: Silco x Female Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, p in v sex (18+ ONLY)

Summary: Silco is particularly fond of his bartender, who at times, is more than just a friend.

Notes: If you squint you can see a saucy line I included from Jason’s latest livestream 😉 AO3

This was how it usually started.

At the end of a long night of dancing, drinking, and gods knew what else, the revellers of The Last Drop would gradually move on from the club to their next destination. The only ones left to stick around when the music stopped and the colourful lights settled would be Silco’s circle of thugs and the man himself.

He would make his way downstairs and take a seat at the bar silently and you would automatically begin making his drink. You knew what he liked, and you would wordlessly place the glass in front of him as he pretended to busy himself with some menial task like running his finger around the edge of the coasters on the counter.

He would take a few sips of his drink while you wiped down the bar for the night before you would ask him casually, “rough day?”

He never came down here on a good day, and as of late, he wasn’t having very many of those.

He would let out a noncommittal grunt that usually meant yes, his day was shit. Sevika and the others would pretend not to notice that their boss only gravitated towards one person when he had something on his mind.

Silco didn’t have…friends exactly. He had people he kept around and tolerated because they were useful to him.

You, however, were quite possibly the only person whose company he enjoyed without conditions. You, one of the bartenders at The Last Drop.

You kept the place straight, made good drinks, and were entirely too easy to talk to. Silco liked you because you didn’t take any bullshit from the sometimes raucous clientele of The Lanes. He also liked you because you were easy on the eyes.

He didn’t remember the first time he noticed you were pretty, but he did know it had been a very long time since he had seen something beautiful in the industrial wasteland that was The Undercity and for that reason, he was automatically drawn to you. It wasn’t until he first approached you for a drink that he realized he genuinely enjoyed your company.

You listened to him bitch about the Topsiders and the Enforcers, about the development of his mysterious project that was taking too long, and you were always captivated by the stories of his younger years fighting for the freedom of Zaun.

Those stories were your favourite to hear, and they were his favourite to tell.

Silco listened to your stories and gripes too, and soon your little exchanges became more and more regular.

Until one night, when Silco had had a particularly shit day, and you took a seat beside him at the bar and joined him for a drink.

Slurred words, longing glances, and lingering touches had soon turned to Silco having you pressed up against the wall of his office as you kissed each other ravenously, and the rest of the night was filled with blurry memories of skin against skin and Silco filling you so deliciously that you still felt the pleasant ache of him the next day.

However, you did distinctly remember waking up naked in his bed the morning after and rolling over to find his side of the bed empty and cold. You had sighed and gathered your clothes and what was left of your dignity, got dressed, and padded out into the adjoining office to start your walk of shame home. Silco was nowhere to be found, but anyone with half a brain who was still lingering in The Last Drop in the morning knew why you were sneaking out in the same clothes you were wearing the night before.

Silco hadn’t mentioned it the next time he saw you, and it was almost as if it hadn’t happened at all.

Until it happened again.

And again, and again.

Neither of you ever talked about it and what it meant. It was casual and thankfully didn’t impede your friendly relationship in the slightest.

Based on his demeanour this evening, it seemed likely you were going to find yourself tangled with him yet again. You knew better than to get involved with someone as dangerous as Silco who was also technically your employer, but you couldn’t deny that he was damn good in bed and satisfied you better than any other previous partners had.

“Want to talk about it?” You asked as you cleaned a glass and Silco continued to nurse his drink.

His eyes flicked up to yours, one blue and one black with a maimed iris of molten lava. That was another piece of information he had divulged to you; what had happened to him to scar him so brutally. You could tell it was an insecurity for him despite the fear it inspired in others.

Ignoring your question, Silco simply replied, “would you like to come up for a drink?”

So, it was going to be one of those nights then. You had pretty much finished closing the bar anyway and you were starting to feel your skin heat up the longer he scanned you with that hungry look in his eye.

“Okay.”

After finishing your duties for the night, you had followed Silco upstairs to his office and were now lounging in one of the plush chairs in the sitting area sipping your drink while he stood at his desk trimming and lighting his evening cigar.

“So, are you going to tell me what has you in such a mood?” You inquired with a playful lilt to your voice, half-expecting him to ignore your question again.

You heard his steady footsteps as he moved from the desk to the lush couch across from you and took a seat. The smoky smell of the cigar wafted over to you along with lingering hints of his cologne, lulling you into an easy calm.

“I am not in a state,” he clipped and took a drag of his cigar. You watched the way his cheeks hollowed around it, how his slender fingers held the smoke up to his lips, all while he was seated on the couch with his legs spread like a king sitting on his throne. Your mouth began to water and you began to feel warm.

“Well, then why am I here?”

His gaze travelled to you as he exhaled, smoke dancing around his head like a devilish halo, and he hesitated momentarily before answering, “is it not enough that I enjoy the pleasure of your company?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt yourself begin to settle into this familiar game the two of you played. Dancing around each other before one of you made the first move.

“Is that all you wanted? My company?” You teased, knowing full well he had brought you up here not as a conversational companion, but as a lover.

Silco pretended to ponder your question as he took another drag off his cigar, and exhaled before countering in his smooth tone, “And what if it was? Would you be disappointed?”

“Well, I guess I would be, but it’s really you who should be disappointed.”

“Hmm? And why’s that?” He questioned casually, clearly enjoying your little game.

“Because,” you started, lowering your voice into a seductive purr as you began to undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing the lacy black lingerie you had adorned yourself in this morning, having a feeling that this is where your day would lead. “It would mean that you wouldn’t get to see this.”

You slipped your shirt off your shoulders, and Silco never tore his greedy stare away from you as he clenched his jaw and scanned his eyes over the delicate fabric accentuating your breasts. You made sure to pick out a naughty little piece he hadn’t seen before, and judging by his reaction, you had chosen well.

Silco still hadn’t said anything and watched you intently as you stood up from your chair and closed the distance between the two of you. You smirked down at him before hooking one leg over his thighs and settling yourself on his lap so you straddled him.

He regarded you now with an amused expression, his eyebrow raised as he brought his cigar to his lips again. “My, my, eager tonight aren’t we?”

Before he could take another drag from the cigar, you plucked it out of his hands and smothered it in the ashtray that sat on the nearby side table without breaking his challenging stare.

“I wasn’t done with that,” he said flatly.

“You are now,” you declared and began undoing his tie. Silco’s hands moved to your thighs, and you could feel the heat of his palms through your pants as he slowly slid them up to grip your hips and rub the exposed skin just above your waistband with his thumbs.

He watched you quietly as you slid his tie off and started working on the buttons of his shirt. There was no sound in the room now except for your hushed breathing and the distant bustle of the street outside. Silco’s office was dark, with only the eerie green glow of The Undercity coming through the window to light the room.

Once you finished your work on his buttons, you latched yourself onto his neck and he hummed as you began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. Silco let out a small hiss as you nipped at his collarbone and you couldn’t help but grin. You had just started sucking on his pale skin to leave a love bite when he breathed out the pet name he only called you when you were alone like this.

“Darling…”

You pulled away from his neck and peered at him questioningly. His eyes were half-lidded as if he were already drunk with pleasure. That could very well be the case; you shifted on his lap and felt his hardening length against your core that sent a pulse to your belly.

Silco began working at the buttons of your pants as he sighed, “if you’re going to tease me with such filthy underthings, at least let me see the whole set.”

You tried to suppress your giggle, but you both knew you had him right where you wanted him and he couldn’t help but grin as he finally unclasped your pants and you moved off him to rid yourself of them and your shoes.

“You certainly do put on quite a show for me,” he offered, looking his fill of the lacy little number you were wearing and watching you sway your hips as you moved to straddle him once again.

His hands moved to roam over your skin, igniting a trail of fire everywhere he touched. When one of his hands moved up to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and the other gently grasped your breast through the black lace, you decided you couldn’t wait any longer.

You took Silco’s face between your hands and brought your lips down to his in a firm kiss.

He responded instantly, groaning and moving his lips against yours. His taste was so familiar to you now with the lingering notes of the cigar and the whiskey he had downstairs earlier.

You moved your hands to tangle in his soft hair and began to grind your hips into him. Silco groaned again, the sound rumbling in his chest and he tightened his grip on your hips as you moved deliciously over his clothed length. His tongue slipped easily into your mouth and he would occasionally nip at your bottom lip, causing you to let out quiet whimpers of pleasure.

He always had this effect on you. He made you feel like you needed him everywhere at once and he drove you crazy with his silky voice and suave attitude. Having those traits turned on you for the purposes of seducing his way into your bed made your head spin. You needed to feel his skin on you, now.

You moved your hands down to frantically work at the buttons on his vest, and when you began to struggle, you pulled away from his filthy kiss, breathless, and looked down to focus on your work of ridding him of his clothes.

While you did that, Silco moved to kiss and lick at your neck and whisper dirty things in your ear.

“Easy now, be a good girl,” he crooned, his voice like liquid velvet in your consciousness, making you shudder. He moved to suck on that spot behind your ear that drove you crazy, and you ground your hips particularly hard as you tried to get some friction on your throbbing clit.

“But not too good.”

You finally were able to remove his vest and quickly moved to work at the remaining buttons of his crimson dress shirt. Silco pulled away from you momentarily to assist you with ridding himself of his shirt, and when he tossed it aside, you resumed your assault on his neck.

You worked your way down his throat, his collarbone, his chest, leaving hot kisses in your wake as you worshipped him. He threw his head back and groaned, petting your hair as you kneeled between his legs and followed the fine trail of greying hair down his navel with your mouth.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you palmed his erection. Silco hissed and moved one of his hands from your hair to brush his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Don’t tease me, darling, I’ve had a long day,” he breathed and applied the slightest bit of pressure to your lip with his thumb. You didn’t even hesitate as you wrapped your lips around the digit and sucked, never breaking eye contact with him.

“Dirty little thing,” he whispered to no one but himself, and pulled his hand away so you could get to work on unbuttoning his pants and freeing his cock.

You always seemed to forget how big he was, but you were never daunted as you licked the salty precum at his slit and wrapped your lips around his head and sucked.

Silco inhaled sharply, carefully tangling his hand in your hair and guiding your head down his shaft as you began to bob up and down his length.

“Good girl,” he repeated breathily. “Just like that.”

He began to gently thrust up into your mouth, and you gazed up at him with innocent eyes glazed in arousal, which you knew drove him crazy. When you felt you had relaxed enough, you boldly pushed yourself further onto his cock and took him into your throat.

Silco let out a strangled noise that was a cross between a growl and a moan and threw his head back.

“So good, so good.”

He always got chattier the closer he got to finishing, and you could feel his muscles tightening as you continued to suck him off and stroke the rest of his length with one hand.

Silco’s breathing became more rapid, and just as you thought he was about to cum down your throat, he murmured your name.

“That’s enough…want to feel you,” he panted.

You obeyed, pulling off his cock and assisting Silco with removing his pants fully and removing the rest of your lingerie. When you rose to perch yourself atop him again, you allowed yourself a moment to imprint the sight before you into your brain. Silco sprawled over the couch, naked, with a thin sheen of sweat covering his pearly skin and his hair hanging in his face. He was utterly gone with arousal, his cock still hard as steel and his eyes heavy with pleasure.

“Come here,” he ordered, his voice heady and seductive.

Without question, you moved to straddle him again and gripped his cock, positioning him at your dripping entrance. Silco’s eyes bore into your own as you put the tip in and slowly began to sink down on him. He hissed and you shuddered at the feeling of the delightful intrusion, and Silco had to steady his breathing to ensure the feeling of your warm, wet cunt squeezing him wouldn’t cause him to spill into you right then and there.

You whimpered as you took him in further, and Silco shushed you gently, rubbing your back and pressing light kisses to your neck to relax you. The stretch was delicious, but it always took you a few moments to get used to him. He was always a patient, caring lover, and sometimes you couldn’t believe that your relationship was completely different out of the confines of these walls.

But you didn’t want to think about that right now.

You were finally seated fully on him, and once the pain had subsided, you started to roll your hips. The sounds of your combined noises of pleasure filled the room, as did the sound of the squelching of your wetness as you moved up and down on his cock.

“There you go,” he purred in your ear, gripping your hips as he thrusted his own up into you. “Does that feel good?”

He didn’t expect an answer, you knew that. He knew damn well the feeling of having him inside you was euphoric, and your whimpers and moans provided him with enough conclusions.

You both found a rhythm that had you pulsing around him in no time, and your noises grew louder and louder until Silco’s rhythm became frantic and you were crying out with every thrust. You arched into him and he ghosted his mouth over your nipple, sucking lightly and causing you to keen in his arms.

“Silco-” you moaned, not knowing any words right now other than his name.

“I know, I know,” he crooned, moving to lick at your other breast.

You could feel the pressure building in your belly and threatening to snap. Sparks of electricity danced up your spine and you were becoming breathless.

“I’m close,” you managed to force out. Silco hummed before pulling off your breast, and looked up at you as his thumb began to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Oh- oh gods!” You cried out, the coil inside you snapping within a few thrusts. You threw your arms around Silco’s shoulders and screamed his name as you came, the sparks in your spine turning into pure lighting that danced through every nerve in your body.

Silco found his own release moments later, and he growled sharply into the crook of your neck as the feeling of your cunt clenching around him like a vice drove him over the edge and he spilled himself into you.

You both stayed like that for a while, clinging to each other as you came down from your respective highs. Silco stayed inside you while he softened and his breathing evened out, and you had your face buried in his shoulder as you tried to bring yourself back down to reality.

It was not lost on you that the level of intimacy Silco offered you was special. You could stay like this forever, with your bodies wrapped around each other and him buried deep inside of you as you recovered from the throes of passion.

“Are you alright?” His even voice was a welcome intrusion into your post-sex contemplations.

“Mhm,” you hummed contentedly, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Are you?”

The corners of his mouth danced and he nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can assure you, my dear, that you are most definitely not a disappointment.”

“So you did bring me up here just to ravish me,” you giggled. Silco huffed a laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Perhaps I did.”

[chickenparm]

I just read your soulmate fics and happenstance fic, and I love both so muchh! I'd love to see happenstance Silco's reaction to getting a soulmate if you're still taking requests? If not, even just some headcanons/thoughts on it would really make my day! Thank you so much!

YES i love this one. I also got a similar one earlier, so this is a two-for-one request-fill.

here is the fic that the asker is referencing

Silco/gn!Reader 596 words - SFW Soulmate AU, Happenstance AU

The moment you get the words on your skin, you're enamored.

The vast majority of people get such vague or common words, usually greetings or mundane sentences that most people come across at least once a week. It creates a lot of situations where people are comparing marks upon first meetings.

Yours, on the other hand, are wonderful. Unique and sweet, you can nearly taste it on your tongue every time you mouth them to yourself. It's wonderful to be assured that you'll know your soulmate instantly, and you long-decided to try your best to be just as unique to cut out all doubt and worry.

-

The moment Silco gets your words on his skin, he's worried.

They make him sound vile, like he'd done something heinous to his own soulmate. The weight of it follows him his entire life, along with the need to make up for whatever he ends up doing to make you question his actions. It burns at him constantly, it's nearly maddening.

There comes a time in his young life where he can barely stand to look at them, and takes to wearing a leather band around his wrist to hide his shame. Even still, there's an ominous feeling when he catches a glimpse of the words on his skin.

-

Silco isn't particularly proud of his actions, but as he stands at the bedside and looks down at you, he knows it's a necessary evil. Your boss had wronged him, pilfered money and lined his own pockets on Silco's dime. As the man's newly appointed assistant, Silco had you tailed to verify if you were in on it as well.

All was well until you barricaded yourself in your apartment in a fit of paranoia, realizing you were being watched at all hours of the day and night. If you had nothing to hide, surely you wouldn't have gone to the lengths you did.

As you stirred, Silco sat halfway on the bed, blocking the light from beaming you in the eyes as you cracked them open with a quiet groan of pain. Mockingly, he reached a hand out to cup your chin and catch your wandering attention.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

A myriad of emotions bloom across your face - disbelief, fear, anger... surprise? Finally, after wetting your lips with a tongue that Silco was drawn to watching, you spoke.

“What… did you do… to me?”

And Silco's world falls to pieces at the strain in your voice, the echoing betrayal hitting him like a bullet as he realizes that the moment of his greatest failure has come. Though it stings and rages at him, he can't bring himself to feel anything more than an eclipsing feeling of elation, the likes of which he hadn't experienced since your words first bloomed on his wrist before settling into something legible.

Steadying himself with a breath, Silco makes a decision in that moment to protect you at all costs - to make up for this slight against you. You're his soulmate, and while he's always known he'd fail you from the start, he refused to let it happen again.

“A sedative. I thought I’d made it very clear it was not to be used unless you fought it, but I suppose the end result is the same,” His lip tilted up at the corner on his unscarred side as he lifted his hand from your shoulder to run his fingers along your scalp again to soothe you, “You are here, my darling, right where you belong. At my side.”