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CONTENT: Porn w/ plot, PIV sex, Possessive behavior, Jealous behavior, Dom/sub undertones, Silco is one selfish man, but he makes up for his sins, Naked Female/Clothed Male, Reader has tattoos, and it's very important to the story, other tags found in AO3

RATING: EXPLICIT

PAIRING: Silco/Reader

Summary: Silco was one perceptive man, nothing escaped from him. Not even the tiny tattoo you have concealed underneath the collar of your shirt, left unbuttoned one night during your shift. Now, how do you explain to him about that? Well, you don't have to. He'll find out about it himself.

WC: 11k+

Link to the full story: "Who's Mark?"

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

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How long have you been working for the Eye of Zaun?

A year, to be exact, and a year of being a part of Silco’s staff made you realize that you were not safe from his perceptions. You first assumed once you started working for a man like him, you’d be able to have some sense of freedom. A choice. In reality, once you were within his close circle, it was as if his presence and energy was always tied around your neck—inescapable and palpable.

Nothing escaped from him. Not even a white lie or a dismissive tone of someone's voice.

As the Eye, it was his nature to see everything.

Your part-time job at the Last Drop was simple.

Make drinks. Serve them out. Look pretty. Attract customers.

Thieram, otherwise called Chuck now thanks to Jinx, often needed your help whenever the place got too crowded. Acting like the second bartender of the Last Drop every once in a while. Thankfully, it wasn't even that hard to pick up on the gig. You were a fast learner, one of the many reasons why Silco decided to pick you off of the streets and offer you a position under him, and it didn't take you long to get a hang of being a bartender.

However, that wasn't your main job. No, your area of expertise involved flipping blades more than wiping glasses. That last bit was just an extra means to earn money, and to pass time while your employer has yet to grace you with another task.

Similar to Sevika, you took on roles that required intimidation and handling threats that may cause a problem to Silco's business. Although, unlike Sevika’s brute strength and power, your specialty was more useful in terms of stealth and infiltration. Whenever Silco wanted someone quiet, swift, and undetectable—you’d be the perfect candidate in his roster.

Sevika might be his fist, but you were his blade.

A spy. An assassin. A shadow.

Someone who worked in the dark, as silent as the night, but as sharp as a dagger.

How else did he take interest in you if you have nothing to offer? How else did he take you under his wing?

Well, that's simple.

You were supposed to kill him.

Before you were his blade, you were someone else's. And they offered you good money to eliminate him. Cross him off of the game. It was supposed to be an easy task, you almost caught him by the throat when you surprised him from the shadows. After weeks of learning his routine, memorizing every route he took, and his schedule, you were fully confident you'd have him dead before sunrise.

That was until you followed him into a dark alley, seeming to be alone and without any of his lackeys around, you decided it was the perfect time to strike. However, one fatal mistake on your part was forgetting he was the Eye.

And the Eye sees it all.

Out from another shadow, Sevika hurled you down to the ground and pinned you before you could even dig the blade deeper. But you did notice the thin cut across his cheek, a single stream of blood escaping the fresh wound. From your pinned position on the ground, you smirked to yourself at being able to land a hit on the untouchable kingpin.

Not many can do so, and that small cut under his good eye was enough to fill your chest with pride.

His lithe fingers came up to the cut, smearing the blood across his cheek like crimson paint against a pale canvas, before he brought his hand in front of him to assess the damage.

“Bold little thing,” Those were his first words spoken to you, and you fought the shiver raking down your spine at the sound of his voice. “You're the first person who managed to get close in a very long time. I must applaud you for your efforts.”

Then, his boots hit the ground like thunder, approaching your fallen figure.

“Tell me your name.”

“Why should I?”

“Unless you want Sevika to crush your body into the ground, I suggest you cooperate.”

You almost forgot about the woman, but the reminder of her metal arm digging on your back was quickly remembered once she pressed herself harder. The pain caused you to curse, cheek against the filthy floor, and you knew you were no match for someone like her.

So, you told him your name.

Silco tested it on his tongue, mulling the syllables aloud. You could almost hear the spite and awe mixing together when he said it, half in amusement and half in disdain.

“Well, you must know who I am already. Given someone is willing to pay you to kill me. How much did they offer?” He was still standing over you, his boots the only view of him you could see.

“Pretty big,” You rasped, feeling your ribs get crushed each second that passed. “Just enough for me to accept this suicide mission.”

Silco hummed at that, thoughtful, and for a while he became silent.

Until the weight on your back was lifted, and you could finally breathe again once Sevika removed herself from you. On the ground, you found yourself being unable to move. When you did, your ribs ached every time you breathed too hard. But your mind wasn't focused on the pain. No, the only question that filled your being with fear was the most obvious one.

Was he going to kill you?

“I'm not going to kill you,” He must've read your mind using that Eye of his, if that was even possible. “No, that would be foolish. I'd be wasting a potential asset. How about I make you a deal? Work for me as my blade. As my shadow. I tell you to get rid of someone, and you do it without question. I'll pay you more than they offered, much more than any other client. Do you accept it?”

The offer tasted like a sweet sin, tempting and too good to be true. He was the devil, and the fruit was there on the palm of his hand—awaiting for you to take it.

And you did.

Now, a year later, you've been officially part of his syndicate.

Most of the time, you're behind the counter in the bar making drinks and serving rowdy customers. You alternated shifts with Chuck every week, or depending when Silco needed you for another job.

Speaking of another job.

You wiped the counter as Sevika hauled the last customer out of the building, and you distinctly heard the drunk crashing on the ground outside as soon as the doors slammed shut. The woman grumbled unintelligible sentences underneath her breath, most likely curses, whilst making her way towards the bar.

She flopped down on the seat right in front of you, giving you an expectant stare.

Without looking up, you slid a glass over to her.

She muttered a disgruntled thanks, before grabbing the glass and downing the amber liquid in one go. Then, she was slamming the empty glass back down on the counter, the previous scowl on her rugged features softening.

“I like you better than the other guy,” Sevika mused mindlessly, pushing the glass out, and you didn't miss a beat on refilling her another round. “He makes my drinks too bitter. Not enough ice. Always shaking in his boots like I'm gonna bite his head off.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly.

“Maybe if you stop glaring down at him, he might make you a better drink.”

“Maybe if he grew a fucking pair, I'd tolerate his drinks better.”

“You and Jinx really like to torment the guy, huh?”

At the mention of the blue-haired girl, Sevika scrunched her nose and scoffed.

“Don't put me up with her,” She clicked her tongue, snatching her refilled glass. “The kid's been up to trouble for the past week, and I'm always the one cleaning after her shit. Last time I remember, I'm the fucking right hand. Not a goddamned babysitter.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile on your lips remained playful. “I never would've guessed. You do such a good job looking after her. Even if it's above your pay grade.”

She tossed you an unimpressed stare, lip curled up in a sneer at your sarcasm. “I really don't get paid enough for this shit.”

“You and me both,” You sighed, folding the towel and storing it under the counter. “Seriously, we need to start getting paid more.”

The look of disbelief and annoyance flashed through Sevika’s features. The kind of expression you see her wear when she's face to face with Jinx, the same kind you'd often receive whenever this conversation was brought up time and time again.

“Oh, please.” Sevika rolled her dark eyes, taking a sip of her drink. “You're Silco's favorite. His pretty little blade. The thing you need is to finally fuck him. I swear, if you can get into his pants, he'll lay off me and the others instead of piling another job at us.”

Unamused, you crossed your arms and leaned over to stare at her. “What makes you think I want to fuck the man? One, that's a serious death wish. Second, he has a kid. Third, he's twice my age. And fourth, yeah, as if. Even if I try my luck with him, he'll have my head in a second.”

Your argument didn't seem to convince the woman across from you. If anything, it only brought a deeper scowl on her face.

“You and I both know you can survive him.”

“Yeah, but he's still a dangerous man.”

“Ain't that your type?”

“Not when they're my boss.”

That was a lie.

Silco was undeniably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. His dark charisma and charmingly persuasive nature drew you in the moment you became his blade. The man radiated power unlike anyone you knew, wielding it like a weapon crafted only for him. He was the kind of man who breathed it, dressed himself in it, until he redefined the meaning to his name.

No other person in Zaun, or maybe even in Piltover, could rival his presence. That magnetic demeanor that both instilled fear and awe to those who knew him. That strategic mind and cunning logic, always thinking two steps ahead instead of focusing on the present. The way he envisioned a bright future for the Undercity, slowly rebranding it to the Nation of Zaun for its rightful independence.

With him, everything was planned and measured.

Thoroughly. Meticulously. Strategically.

And that's what exactly attracted you to him.

He was a forbidden fruit, untouchable and unreachable. But oh, did you often indulge in the idea of taking a bite. To test the waters, and see if the fruit was as sweet as heaven or as bitter as sin. Sometimes, you find yourself guilty of thinking about him in ways that an employee should never imagine about their boss.

You couldn't help the curiosity surfacing from the deepest corners of your mind, and the thought of it all excited you.

It did make you wonder, most often late at night, what kind of a lover would he be interested in?

What kind of lover was he like?

Did he partake in anything intimate with others?

Maybe before he hired you, he did.

Sevika did slip on her words one night, when the two of you were the only ones left in the Last Drop and she was on her sixth glass, that Silco liked his partners unpredictable. Someone who can keep him on his toes, who can make him guess and chase. Someone who was irrevocably loyal and dependable. Someone who wasn't afraid to face the devil, and maybe even flirt back.

“Someone like you,” Sevika added, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Come to think of it, you fit right into his type.”

And that has been stuck on your mind for months.

Back then, you wouldn't have assumed anything from his piercing stare, completely unfazed by his silent method of intimidation. For the first six months of being under his your interactions with the kingpin has always been direct—no sugarcoating, no lying, and absolutely no fucking around.

Strictly business, and strictly professional.

You worked for him as his blade, and he was the eye who overseered how he made use of you. Sure, there was tension right from the start. Though, it was the kind of tension that can kill—sharp and dangerous.

You won't deny how your skin prickled with trepidation every time he was in the same room, but the tension in the beginning was nothing but out of cautiousness.

As the rest of the year passed, the previous tension shifted into something else entirely. Each time you came to report back, the weight of his stare felt heavier. Darker. Bolder. You pretended not to notice how his sea-green eye travelled along the length of your body through your clothes, as though he wanted to melt them right off with their burning intensity.

He never crossed the line, never dared to touch you even when you noticed how his fingers twitched when you handed him his drink. Or when you absentmindedly played with your dagger during chembaron meetings, standing guard at the side, and you felt his attention fixed on you the entire time—studying the blade twirling in your hand with that indecipherable glint in his good eye.

Always fleeting glances, always staying in the line of professionalism, always concealing the desire underneath a facade.

That was before the first time he initiated contact with you. The very first time that started as the catalyst. The turning point to your relationship. It was the night when you returned from an assassination, Silco wanted someone dead and you wanted to get it done quickly.

However, he failed to mention that the target was one heavy bastard.

And fuck, the guy managed to land a few good hits on you. Albeit the size difference, you still managed to finish the job with a swift slice on the back of his knee and one across his throat. When you trudged your way back to the Last Drop and up to his office, you tried to conceal the slight limp in your steps as you approached his desk.

But you should've known nothing escaped from him, especially the blood on your cheek (not yours) and the small wince you failed to hide.

As always, you immediately went straight to relaying the events of the assignment.

Until, he abruptly stood up from his chair, rounding his desk with that smooth gait and long strides. Before you could even blink, he was there, standing right in front of you.

You only looked at him in confusion, opening your mouth to continue your report.

When his thumb brushed your cheek, wiping the blood off of your skin.

The first touch surprised you, but it was the second one that ultimately stopped you from breathing.

He quietly opened the collar of your shirt, eyeing something there, and maybe it was another patch of blood you've yet to clean. For a few seconds, he just glared down at your collar, and you were unsure what exactly caught his inescapable attention.

Then, wordlessly, he fixed it back to its place, and stepped back from you with a small incline of his head.

Like nothing happened.

But the damage has already been done, and your mouth dried.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, while he remained indifferent. Completely unbothered by the sudden contact, his ocean green and fiery molten gaze never left yours.

You only remembered to speak again when he asked for you to continue. And for the first time, you stammered in front of him.

Ever since that night, something changed entirely.

He grew bolder with his intentions, lingering close to you whenever you accompany him in another meeting. Reserving a hand low on your hip or against your shoulder when Finn, or even Marcus, paid too much attention to you. Making a silent claim to everyone else saying, “This is my blade” whilst failing to verbalize the words out loud, but he didn't need to. Everybody knew how you were his, and you're not sure if you liked the sense of being owned by him.

Even when you that was exactly the case of your arrangement. The deal from so many months ago.

As soon as you agreed to him, one thing was certain.

You belonged to him.

Hell, even Jinx noticed it.

After you served her behind the counter, placing her favorite drink in front of her and adding her signature straw at the end. You received a vague thumbs up from her after that, but whether her thumbs up was because of the drink or something else, you chose not to let it affect you.

Unexpectedly, the young girl tossed a ticking bomb into your hands, and you reflexively caught it while she darted away—giggling to herself at her own antics.

Instead of an explosion, the device snapped open when the timer ran out.

Inside of it was a slip of paper.

And inside the paper was a colorful message written in blue and pink crayons.

I like you better than Chuck :D

P. S. Dad likes you too.

That only confirmed my suspicions that the little blue-haired brat knew.

Back to the present, Sevika released another heavy breath. “Keep telling yourself that, Sharpie. Just don't fuck him while I'm down here.”

Grimacing, you flipped her off in return, and she only did the same gesture.

“Whatever,” You began a quick work on Silco's drink. “I'd die first before I can even find out if he has a dirty secret.”

Another routine of yours whenever he has a job for you was to make Silco a drink. An exchange of some sorts. He gives you your assignment, and you give him his alcohol. It completely baffled you at first, because you found out from Thieram he has never made him a drink before himself. And he's been working longer for him than you. So, you did wonder why Silco asked for you to.

Could it be a test for something?

You haven't poisoned any of his drinks yet, since you were quiet fond of creating his alcohol.

Based on Sevika's insight, he liked his alcohol sweet and slightly spicy, much to your great surprise. The kind that soothed your tongue with an unassumingly sweet taste, then glided down your throat with a burn that made you crave for more. You took him as someone who preferred something strong, rich, and bitter—a refined taste only a man like him could possess.

“Keep that to yourself,” Sevika cringed, then shook her head. “Okay, fuck you. I need a stronger drink to forget that.”

You smirked at her, grabbing the finished drink and exiting the counter. “Bar's all yours. You get one bottle. If I find two missing, I'm killing you in your sleep. And I know where you live.”

The woman pointedly avoided your threat, muttering something as she waved you off dismissively.

Climbing up the stairs, your boots echoed along the silent hallway leading to Silco's office.

The topic of your previous conversation still lingered at the back of your mind, setting your nerves alight.

Even though you have been curious about Silco's private affairs, not to mention the unmistakable charge between you, you're almost certain he'd never really act on those. After all, you were just his blade, and on an occasion, his bartender. A man like him suited someone who fit his level—someone cunning, equally dangerous, and never feared power.

Because he was power.

It was only a short trip, and in the next second you found yourself standing in front of his office.

Two short knocks.

That's all it took to let him know it was you.

He didn't have to give you any confirmation, so you turned the knob and opened the door. As soon as you did, he was already looking in your direction. When your eyes met, those sea-green and molten irises narrowed into its piercing glare.

And the moment you stepped inside, closing the door behind you, the air grew heavier from the weight of that unspoken energy.

The tension was back.

“You're late,” Silco's regal voice reached your ears, casual yet pointed at the same time. “Must I know what kept you back from arriving at your usual time?”

“Sevika and I had a little chat,” You shrugged, unfazed by his sharp tone. “And I was cleaning the bar. No need to get all hissy at me, boss.”

Out of everyone working for him, besides Sevika, you had no fear in talking back against him. Well, to an extent. Someone has to put him in his place every once in a while, and while that may get you killed in the process, at least you spoke what's on your mind instead of hesitating around him. You did discover he preferred when people were straightforward, only if they remember who he was in the end.

Lest you wanted your tongue to be cut off.

The kingpin hummed at that, resting his head against his knuckles as he watched you cross the room.

For a while, neither of you spoke. He seemed perfectly content in just studying you, like he always does, and you were more than fine with keeping the conversation short. Anything to make you leave the place, finish your assignment, and head back home after the report.

Hope it's something quick this time.

You thought to yourself, placing his drink in front of him. Then, you were stepping back from his desk with your arms behind you—awaiting for your new task.

However, the man only stared.

And stared.

And stared.

So, what am I exactly doing here?

You fought the urge to ask, shifting in your spot.

Lifting your eyes, you saw how his features shift from a cold neutral expression to a thoughtful look. You knew that look, and you didn't need to have a sixth sense to know something was about to happen. Or rather, he knew something you don't.

Uh oh.

“You've been a loyal asset to my business for over a year now,” The Eye of Zaun started, his tone almost clinical. “And for the past year, you've proven yourself useful in countless ways. You helped expand the Last Drop's sales when you man the bar, and you don't question me when I assign you a new task. Even if it can get you killed.”

Blinking, you chose to remain silent to let him continue his speech.

Silco leaned forward, and your attention subconsciously flickered down to his exposed forearms. Only realizing that the sleeves of his red button down have been rolled up to his elbows—giving you a rare view of those prominent veins.

“You never defied me, and I never questioned your methods.”

“Thank you?”

“And you don't carry any ulterior motives that may threaten my position.”

“You’d know immediately if I had any,” You smiled wryly, shrugging your shoulders. “Nothing escapes from you, boss. It's better I tell you myself, than have you find out yourself.”

Those brilliant mismatched eyes sharpened even more, close enough to cut through the thick weight in the air. It was almost palpable now, and you found your breath getting shorter each second. After appraising you for another moment, the dark-haired man leaned back against his seat and arched one regal eyebrow.

“Then, entertain me just this once.”

“About?”

“Who’s Mark?”

Who?

You blinked, utterly lost, trying to remember if you knew any person with the name. You might've known someone before, or you never actually met anyone with that name. In the end, your mind was drawn into a blank—unable to recall anything.

The confusion must've been evident on your face, or maybe it was your prolonged silence, and Silco clicked his tongue loudly.

Snapping out of your daze, you straightened your posture and answered. “I don't know anyone named Mark, sir. Should I know someone with that name?”

Your answer seemed to displease him, because his voice grew colder the next moment, dripping with something other than impatience.

“Are you sure you're not familiar with anyone? Anyone at all?” He lightly waved his hand, urging you to answer.

You shook your head, frowning. “No, sir. None that I know of.”

“Hm, curious. I've been wondering…”

“Wondering what, sir?”

Instead of responding, Silco took the drink you made for him and sipped. Slow, silent, and purposeful. And your traitorous eyes fell below his chin, trading the prominent line of his throat bobbing at the motion. Meanwhile, he never let his gaze move away from you. Pinning you there on your spot, in the middle of the room, unable to do anything but to wait for his clarification.

Then, with a rougher flourish, he spoke again.

“You have it on your collar,” The kingpin drawled, almost boredly, gesturing his glass to you. “The name. Written under your collarbone. It's been a curious thought in my mind ever since I first saw it. And it caused a realization within me that I've never personally asked you of your personal life.”

My collarbone?

Tracing the said area, you peered down at the open collar of your shirt—unbuttoned from earlier during your shift—and thought to yourself.

Oh.

You remembered now.

The first time he wiped the blood off of your cheek, it seemed so long ago even when it was just a few months back. The moment that came after when he glared down at your collar. The sight of his hardened glare flashed across your mind, staying in place whilst he fixed your collar before stepping back. The memory almost flew over your head, and you just realized that he wasn't looking at blood.

He was talking about the word tattooed on your collarbone.

Oh.

He was talking about this Mark.

Fuck.

Gulping, you moved your hand away and released a breath. “Oh, this? It's nothing, sir. Just a random tattoo I got when I was younger. Really, it doesn't mean anything.”

Yeah, you were not about to explain to him what that tattoo really meant. That would involve an embarrassingly long background story, the context on why you decided to get it. Really, it was just one of those teenage impulses you got from a drunken dare all those years ago. Nothing too serious, but the history behind might just ruin your reputation—and possibly, how Silco perceived you.

Although your casual dismissal, the kingpin was not swayed easily. If anything, that piercing glare darkened. A warning. Oh, shit. He was not satisfied with that, and you really have no choice but to cooperate.

Fuck it, looks like I'm gonna die either way.

You crossed your arms around yourself, a small habit to provide comfort and security, before meeting his stare.

“It’s something personal,” Your cheeks warmed immediately, heart racing beneath your chest. “I got it when I was seventeen from a stupid dare. You know how that goes.”

“I'm well-aware,” Silco rolled his eyes, less amused now. “But that wasn't what I asked. I'm inquiring about one thing, blade. Who. Is. Mark?”

Stammering, you scrambled for an excuse. “It's not– Mark isn't really, well… Uh, it's a long story.”

You? A renowned assassin and his blade, stuttering because of a fucking tattoo? Gods, what have you become? You try to blame it on the careless mistake of unbuttoning your blouse earlier during your shift, but it was too humid down at the bar and you got a bad temper when it came to heat.

He clicked his tongue, swirling his glass around as he adjusted in his seat. “I've got time.”

Fuck my life.

You clenched your fists, biting your tongue in effort of cursing him. Now that you've been placed under his scrutiny, you knew there was no other way to escape from it. Even when your dignity was on the line, meeting Silco's wrath was not something you'd like to suffer from. You've seen it all before, that chilly calmness before the chaos—thunder always came first before the storm—and now, you're caught in the eye of it.

And so, swallowing down your pride, you steeled your resolve and hardened your gaze.

“It's not a person.”

The words hang in the air, wafting in the space of his office like a confession.

And the devil in front of you inhaled it.

“Oh?” Silco raised an eyebrow, mild intrigue glinting through his eye. “It's not an old acquaintance? First target? Sibling? Former… lover?”

At the end of his sentence, you picked up on the sliver of venom dripping from his lips. Almost as if the word lover tainted his tongue with filth, spitting it out with such disdain. You suppressed a shiver at the sound of it.

“No, it's…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain. “It's supposed to be a joke. It's a funny story actually. Are you sure you want to know? Like I said, it's kinda personal.”

However, Silco was far from entertained. “I mentioned that I've got time, not patience. Either you tell me the whole story, or I find out myself.”

Well, fuck you for making me eat my words.

“Well? I'm waiting–”

“It's an order,” The bite in your voice was sharp, staring him down to his seat, as your fingers shifted your collar aside to reveal the tattoo. “I placed it here on my collarbone. As an order. Mark here. Mark me.”

You pointed on your skin, where the small tattoo was written, and suddenly the next words coming out of your lips were out before you could stop yourself.

“And I have others.”

If it was possible, the tension grew tenfold at your admission.

From across the room, you stared at each other like a challenge. A dare. To see which one would break first. Which one would give in to the temptation? You, the sinner who confessed? Or him, the devil who fell first? The look of neutrality on his face was gone, replaced with a barely concealed darkness that made him appear more dangerous.

More powerful.

In his sea-green eye, a gleam of surprise shone through. Then heat, then hunger.

“You have… others?” Silco pondered, low and heavy, shifting slightly in his seat. “Are you willing to tell me those as well?”

Raising your chin, you narrowed your gaze. “How about I show you instead?”

You heard the sharp intake of breath from him, and now one objective filled your mind. To make him eat his words back. You wanted him speechless. Stuttering. Taken back. You wanted to see him falter for once, to see the almighty Eye break his stare. You wanted him to finally cross the line, and take what he wanted from you.

So, you turned on your heel, gathering your hair into your hand to expose another tattoo written on your nape.

Pull.

“Pull here,” You made a suggestive gesture of tugging your hair. “Mind you, I was drunk when I got these. Young, dumb, and reckless. So, it gets worse than this.”

“How many?” You heard him ask from behind, and the rough cadence in his voice sent a flash of heat through you.

Turning back around to face him, you took one slow step towards his desk.

Then, two.

And three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Until you were standing right in front of the furniture, the only barrier separating you, as your teasing smirk grew when he moved back.

“Seven,” You replied coolly, tilting your head. “In total. But you'll only get to see three.”

He glared at you, a muscle in his jaw flexing, and up close, you could hear how his breath was becoming more labored. You should've taken a shot down at the bar if you knew you would be stripping for your boss and showing him all the lewd places on your body with those tattoos.

Your fingers came up to your top button, beneath the one that's already undone, and did a slow work of undoing it. Just one. But it looked like you were already baring yourself entirely for him. Oh no, you won't give him that privilege. He hasn't earned it yet, and you're enjoying yourself far too much with this.

Silco blinked, glancing to your face and back to the motion. His glass came down on the table, harder than necessary, as his frantic eye darted up and down repeatedly—as though he was torn between saving both of your dignity or giving into his curiosity.

“What are you doing?” He asked, almost breathless.

“You wanted to know about the tattoos,” You simpered, opening your blouse just a bit more to let him see the third one. “And I'm showing them. At least, the ones that are safe for you to see.”

Kiss.

Right there, just above your cleavage.

For an extra treat, you let the top of your bra peek through your blouse. The unmistakable black lace lining the top. Silco, much to his credit, remained unaffected. Or at least, he tried to be. The hushed curse still reached your ears, as well as the vein popping at the side of his temple.

“Pretty self-explanatory,” You unbuttoned them back, hiding the tattoo from his hungry gaze. “As for the others, I'm afraid those require dinner first.”

Those sea-green and molten fire irises snapped up, darkening instantly. And you watched how the pupil in his good eye expanded, like watching an eclipse shadow an ocean.

This was getting dangerous.

You need to leave the room, before things can get out of hand. You blamed it on the tension, that thick poison clouding your mind into tempting the devil to play fire with you—and you wanted to see if you'd burn with him.

Silco shifted in his seat again, slouching forward. “Dinner? You expect me to treat you, my blade, for a meal before you reveal your other secrets?”

Your smirk stretched into a grin, playful and coy.

“Well, you need to earn them first.”

“Earn them? Do you know who you're talking to, girl?”

“Oh, I know. But you can't just have everything you want given to you, Silco.”

His lip curled, the muscle in his jaw flexed once again. “Careful, girl. My patience is not something you can test. Unless you want to meet the same fate as the others who dared to.”

Oh, that sounds fun.

With a plan in mind, you placed your hands forward on his desk. And with a breathy whisper, you spoke.

“Then, good luck trying to sleep at night guessing where the rest are.” You pivoted swiftly and sauntered towards the door. “Like you said, boss, either I tell you my secrets, or you come and find out for yourself.”

Silco was pushing you back, one of his hands coming down to lock it, while the other shot up to your throat. He glared down at you, harsh and furious, whispering three familiar words into the small distance between your lips.

“Bold little thing.”

Before he surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

Just to see how he will look like in one 👀

God he’s so sexy 😩

YAY I love messy hair silco, he’s soooo

"behave"

Silvik Week Day 1: Loyalty/BDSM

Something about surrender.

---

His delts aren’t as developed compared to vander or jayce, but that tracks. His physique gives off a functional under-fed kind of strength.

Mining is brutal and repetitive labor, with hours of physical exertion every day. And without enough calories, especially protein, you don’t bulk up easily. Strength can still build, just not in mass. More in density and definition.

Silco likely has more fast-twitch muscle fibers, which are built for explosive movement like swinging and lifting. A wiry build like that is often from fast-twitch fibers being used frequently but not given enough calories or recovery to grow. They stay lean but powerful.