#silco request

he just got home from a business meeting-

your usual punishment

he needs to be in control

making the bed squeak alllll night

slowly filling up your pussy with his cum

riding his cock on a yacht ;)

real life silco who's camera roll is just filled with videos like these

how he eats your pussy and fucks you with his thumb

fucking your mouth in the back alleys of Zaun

he loves pleasing you

the only one who can make you squirt

he's fucking angry, you shouldn't have done that (TRIGGER WARNING: dark bruising on girls ass because of ass smacks)

his chair is the perfect height for some anal <3

it's so easy to get you in his bed

letting you take a hit while he pounds you

he's rough rough

anal plug.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

[the request that spurred this post]

Been needing to post more Silco content so I'm glad I finally made this. Expect more on the wayyy :PP

request anything loves <3 or feel free to chat with me <33

I write for Vi, Silco, and Jinx. Maybe even Viktor because I've been fantasizing about him lately lol

The two of you aren't together. Yet. Though Silco is perfectly aware of his feelings towards you, and he trusts you as much as he thinks he is able to trust anyone at this point in his life, he is still somewhat hesitant to make a move. Both because he isn't sure about your own feelings towards him and because he doesn't really... He doesn't really do this. Date –more than a casual fuck–. Have a partner. He doesn't like stepping into the unknown; so he's got no rush.

It's still clear the relationship between you isn't exactly just friendly. There's this energy simmering below the surface; this... carefull expectancy. Rumours, too; as Silco's behaviour around you hasn't been unnoticed either. It can't be; for the second time this month, he's carrying you like a ragdoll up to his bedroom, grunting under his breath at the effort of climbing the creaky stairs with the aditional weight on his knees.

As soon as he sets you down on his bed, you start clawing your clothes off; a task amusingly difficult for your half sleeping, half drunk state. Silco tries not to watch your grumpy effort to get under the soft covers; but it's not an easy thing to do. He's hard –the first glimpse of your smooth naked skin already enough– and he's atracted to you. And you're now completely naked in his bed, twisting around so that you can sink your face into the pillow and inhale. You mumble and sigh, muscles relaxing under the covers, and Silco throbs at the knowledge that is his scent what caused that. Or a promise of a good night's rest.

You fall asleep, and Silco lingers in the bedroom picking up the disaray of your clothes from the floor and putting them into a pile to ease the headache you'll surely have tomorrow. He hovers in place when his fingers close around a black, lacy, pantie; groaning at the thought of seeing you in it. It's almost too pretty to belong to the Underground. He wonders if you only use it on special ocasions –he doubts it's comfortable to wear in any of your spy misions–; and if that's the case, why is he the only man to be lucky to see it. Perhaps you really weren't waiting for anyone else.

He's not proud of it –he doesn't feel guilty either, though, after all, you're invading his space– but he takes it. He pushes it into the safe private darkness of his pocket and leaves the room, resigned to spend the night twisting around in the sofa of his office.

The pounding headache you wake up with the next day quickly reminds you of the –admitedly– too large amount of alcohol you had ingested the night before. You groan all the way through getting dressed, frowning at not finding your underware but too tired to worry about it. You exchange a few words with Silco on your way out –relieved and gratefull that he had been considerate enough to let you crash in his private rooms once again and mortified at the same time–, and return home to shower and go about your day.

You find out all about the dissapearance of the one particular item of your clothing a few days after that. It's just another working day, and you're leaving a stack of business papers on the drawer of Silco's desk when a bunch of suspicously familiar lace calls your attention. Surprised and confused, you grab the fabric and examin it; confirming your initial suspition. It is your pantie. What the hell is Silco doing with this?

As if summoned by your thoughts, Silco chooses that exact moment to pop out of his bedroom, walking down the stairs towards his office in a dark wine red shirt that makes your mouth water. His eyes –still holding a trace of sleep–, inmediately fall upon you; eyebrow silently arching in question at your unexpected visit.

You raise up your hand to show him your discovery with an expectant pop of your hip to the side. Silco's expresion morphs from surprise to recognition to a sort of careless guiltiness. He shrugs as if this were a daily occurence –and a totally normal thing– and you can't help but laugh.

"You fuckin' sociopath" you chuckle while he approaches you. "I was wondering where the hell did my underware go".

Silco stops right in front of you and hums uncomitedly.

"You have a tendency of getting naked when drunk, it seems" he replies with a deep, calm tone.

You tilt your head to study him.

"If you liked me, you could have just told me, you know" you decide to risk it, though you hate to be vulnerable. "Surely it isn't a secret I have a crush on you by now".

Silco can't mask the sincere surprise that travels through his face quick enough. He smirks, then, a single side tug of his lips that shouldn't look that attractive –but it does–.

"I see" his eyes roam through your figure in a sugestive way with undeniable interest. "Come back to my office after work then, darling, and I shall compensate you for my cruel robbery".

The promise of a good time with this man sends a rush of excitement through your veins; and you give him a single firm nod with a victorious grin on your face.

You try to take the minimum breaths necessary while you walk through this part of Zaun. You've got your bandana drapped over your nose and mouth, knot tightened up at the base of your head. Though you're aware it won't save you from one type of lung afliction or another in the long run, you'd like to delay it as much as possible. You'd like the chance of growing old.

The Last Drop feels almost as a relief by now. The floors are somewhat sticky, the wooden countertop and the few chairs scarced around creak an old tune, and every once in a while a few unsavory incidents happen here and there; but with Silco's goons around it's a safe place as any, and the work brings you money –more than you've ever earned in the Underground–.

You're used to the rutine by now. You've been working as a bartender in The Drop for a year now; quickly adjusting to your new job without flinching, knowing this kind of oportunity only comes once in a while. You'd ducked your face down, focusing on the cleaning-serving drinks part of the job and ignoring the rumours and fights that seemed to become inherent to the place. It's not your business –rather Silco's–, and you better not get involved in that. For your sake.

You serve drink after drink for hours with little rest. Your own throat feels dehidrated; your hands are stinging with the effort of too many glasses cleaned, skin raw. It's almost sunset; almost time to make the finest whisky with extra ice.

You shoot more tired smiles and toss comments here and there and signal Thieram you're going up after a while. He nods and you leave him at the bar, making your way through the stairs onto the second floor. The private one. Silco's.

The guards outside don't even bother asking and they step aside. They know your rutine by now as well.

You step inside, humming lost in thoughts at the sight of small scraps of metal and wood scarced inf the floor by the sofa. Looks like Jinx has been entertaining herself here. Between that and the hundred things on Silco's desk, the place is a bit of a mess.

You set things into order in a handfull of minutes. You organize Jinx's stuff into neat piles, depending on the material or it's function, putting everything in a box and leaving it back in the floor for her. You take special caution with the desk; making sure no paper is altered in its order and just cleaning a bit around. You make space for the alcohol; and you make your way down again with two empty glasses in hand and a bag of garbage to get rid off.

You give Thieram a pat on the shoulder to let him know you're back and get back to bartending. Your individual private task of the day is done, and soon, you'll be heading home.

You welcome the night with a big, tired smile on your face. Your hands and lower back hurt, your mouth feels dry and you're plainly exhausted. Your stomach has been making noises for quite a while too; reminding you that you can't go on and on without eating something. Gaining some strength back.

The bar is almost empty by now; just a few regulars lingering around. Thieram is the one tasked with closing this month, though; so you say your goodbye and walk out of The Drop.

It's nice to breathe "fresh" air now, after hours spent inside the bar. You close your eyes and take a few seconds to relax.

The voice by your side almost makes you jump.

After a stressfull afternoon –he never would have guessed being a crime lord would mean dealing with this many problems– Silco's hair is untidy, just like the way he left his desk. His desk is surprisingly organised and clean now, though; which can only mean the new bartender had been here.

Silco calls him "new" in his head because he's still not used to him. He's still searching for him every time he enteres the room as if it were the first day. He still finds himself surprised when he sees he's still there, soldiering through the long hours and the dirty fights and the dangerous stories. He had given him a month max.

Yet, you had done everything right. You didn't complain, didn't pry, just sid your job precisely like you should and left. On and on and on for daya that turned into weeks that turned into months. At some point, you had started to do all this little –but heartwarming– details for him –the organising, cleaning, bringing something to eat, or even things for Jinx to built with–; and now... Now it was not "new", because Silco had definitly grown used to them, but not to his feelings for you.

You were a simple guy. And perhaps that was what made you special; you hold no lies, he felt safe around you, no need to pretend or shield himself. No more than he did unconsciously, at least. Although you could hold yourself on a fight –he had watched that unfortunate incident happen twice–, you weren't violent, or cruel, or any of the things most of the zaunites had been forced to fall in shape with. You weren't naive, but you were... That, normal. A good guy with a good heart and just the necessary touch of Underground sharpness.

Silco blows the smoke of his cigar away, studying the way you close your eyes and drop your head back to close your eyes at the –very far away– sky. You seem relieved now that the day is over; probably glad to be able to go back home and get some well deserved rest. Silco knows where you live –too close to the Lanes to his liking–; it's still quite of a walk from here.

He doesn't want you to go yet.

"How do you memorize every single order?" He asks, hiding his amused smile at the way your body tenses in surprise, at how your big eyes widen even further.

"Shit, you scared me boss" you chuckles, bringing a hand to your chest and shooting him a bright smile –is someone ever that happy to see him, besides Jinx?–. "I give funny names to the patreons, so it's easier to associate it with their drink".

You don't seem to be too fased to know that this question means Silco has been watching you. Paying attention.

Silco wonders if you like that attention.

"For example" you continue. "The old guy with the gap between his teeth?"

Silco nods quietly, and you grin proudly.

"I call him Whistle".

The way you proclaim it almost makes Silco laugh, but instead, he smiles. A side one, a small tug of the corner of his lips that seem to make you even prouder.

You chuckle and shake your head, making the mess of your hair even messier. He likes that about you too, the way each strand seem to follow it's own direction. It's kind of endearing, he thinks. He has never told you anything similar.

"What did you name me to remember my order, then?" he asks, somewhat curious, yet somehow fearing the answer.

You take a few seconds too long to respond, which makes Silco think it is nothing but a lie.

"I didn't... You're the boss, and whisky is pretty simple to remember, so..." you shrug, smiling hesitantly.

Silco can see through your nervousness easily.

"I sugest you try again, with the truth this time" he gives him another chance, taking another breath from his cigar.

You sigh in defeat, smiling apologetically.

"I, uh... Icy Fire. You know, because of the extra ice to your whisky and..."

"The red eye" Silco ends for him.

You must interpret his silence for discomfort or anger, because you quickly jump to excuse yourself.

"I promiss yours is not a mocking name though, boss! I actually like the dual eye thing, you know..."

"Ah, you do..."

He could stop you now, but it's fun to watch you squirm.

"Yeah, yes, I mean, it's kinda' scary but hot at the same time" you blurt out, insisting inmediately, just before realising what exactly have you said out loud.

Silco chuckles this time, he can't help it. The wide eye expresion on your face... Priceless.

"Tell me" he takes a few steps towards you, before you're able to try to make your way out of it. "Is it just the eye you find hot about your boss?"

Your jaw drops, probably not expecting the seductive tone on his voice, the intention hiding beneath it. You doubt, not sure if you want a real answer or if this is all a joke, a way of having a laugh at your comment. You answer, however, if still unsure.

"I, uh... Nah, boss, your fine all around".

This time Silco is the one surprised. He hadn't expected you to give in; to tell him that plainly and directly. You seem hesitant, wary if you had over stepped or not; but he just hums pleasantly.

Ah, so he really does have a chance with you.

Silco stands closer and carefully drapes your well-used bandana over your nose, caressing the skin on the way. Studying the way you seem to tremble at the touch.

Perhaps he'd get the chance to see more of that soon.

"The next time you bring me my drink, stay".

He's back inside The Drop before he has given you time to answer.

He can't imagine his days without you by now... but perhaps he could start with a small personal conversation first.

THE END.

He doesn't like that either. He is a methodical person. Organised. Perhaps a tad too obsessive; a useful trait for a leader in the Undercity, if any. The chaos that roams through the office is only a vague representation of the one he feels inside.

When Sevika blasts through the door, he doesn't even spare her a glance. His eyes are fixed on the reports of the last batch of shimmer distributed throughout the west of Piltover; and the carefully hidden incongruences there.

He knows the sound of her steps and particular way of moving by now. How she favors the right side of her body to counter the extra weight given by her metallic arm. Silco wouldn't say they are exactly friends –he wouldn't make that mistake again–; but she's no stranger to him by now.

He can feel the intensity of her stare no matter how hard he tries to concentrate and find any more errors on the reports. Sevika has stopped a few steps away from his desk; analysing him with silent sharpness. Her dark eyes jump from the mess of his hair to his tired, tense posture and the irritated purse of his lips. She hums insightfully.

"You look like shit".

Silco snorts.

"Wonderfull" he drawls, voice as dry as his sore throat, too drained to even use his wit to battle her cruel observation.

Sevika stays quiet and observes him for a whole minute. Silco stubbornly ignores her and scribbles on his papers.

"You could do with a break" she says, voice too firm for that to be a suggestion.

Silco doesn't listen.

"I'm busy" he answers, irritated. "If you don't have anything important to say I sugest you go make yourself useful".

Sevika takes a few lazy steps towards him; planting her human and metalic hand on his desk firmly. The sound makes Silco almost flinch, and he is inevitably forced to look up into the cage of her arms.

"I sugest you crawl down on your knees and make yourself useful".

She stares down at him in that heated, powerful way of hers; and a small electrifying shiver shoots through Silco's spine. He holds her stare for a few seconds, almost fighting her; but she doesn't waver, answering with an almost imperceptible arch of her eyebrow.

Silco could tell her to fuck off.

He doesn't want to.

Sevika watches him while he slowly abandons the reports on his desk and makes his carefull way around it towards her. Standing side by side it's impossible not to notice the physical differences between them; Silco isn't short by any means, but Sevika is huge. It's not a matter of height, really; but where Silco is slim and slender –all sharp bones and edges–, Sevika is strong and bulky. It makes him feel small. He wouldn't admit to anyone –but her– how much he likes that.

Sevika hums, the sound trapped in her chest and throat. She reaches a hand for Silco's face; and firmly grasps the right side of his jaw in a strong –yet carefull– hold. Silco has no other option than to stare back at her; still tense but not daring to move a single inch in an effort to pull away.

"What are you in the mood for today?" She asks in a low voice, calm, controlled.

Silco shuts down the need to squirm in her hold. He takes his time to answer; because it's still difficult to bare his needs and desires no matter how many times they've done this. He hates being vulnerable.

"Something light" he answers quietly, voice clipped. "No edging".

Images flash through Silco's mind; nights spent shaking on his bed with Sevika touching him and using him to make herself cum but never allowing him to tilt over the edge. It's not like he hadn't loved the experience; but he doesn't have the patience for it today. It would be torture if anything else.

"Okay" she answers, finally dropping her hand down and giving him some false ilusion of space. "Bring me the rope, then".

If Silco's knees almost buckle then and there, no one notices.

Slowly, after staring at Sevika a few more seconds in silence –in an almost pensive way–, he turns around and fishes the carefully wrapped black rope from the drawer of his desk. It's long, plenty to spin around each of his muscles a few times, and of great quality to avoid unwanted –and suspitiously obvious– rashes.

Sevika offers her hand and Silco gives it to her without adding a word.

"Turn around".

Silco still marvels at the confidence and power of that voice.

His turning feet make the wooden floor creak; followed by a heavier one when Sevika takes a few steps closer to him.

She hovers behind his back. Silco can almost feel her heat, her presence, and the anticipation builds up. When her fingers make contact with his vest, he tenses up.

"Don't make a fuss" she snaps back.

Silco bites his tongue.

Sevika is quiet while she takes his clothes off; though the weight of her stare is obnoxiously loud. Silco doesn't quite understand how she can get turned on by him this much. It's not that he considers himself to be bad-looking, even with the scar and the restless eye. But he's nothing special either; just another bag of bones in the Lanes, being objective. Perhaps she takes some sort of satisfaction on fucking her boss onto his knees –which is totally okay with him–.

Sevika hums when all the clothes are abandonned on the floor and a wave of goosebumps erase on Silco's skin. He's still tense, a man waiting to jump and bail, bite and claw to defend himself; but Sevika doesn't want to hurt him. Other times, maybe. It's not like it doesn't get her off, either, and some of their sesions have definitly ended in small, proud lines of blood; but hurting him is never the goal, no. She wants to posses him. She wants to bring the man to a freeing, catarthic pleasure that empties his mind. She'll get off to that too.

"Clasp your hands together behind your back. Elbows pressed. I'm going to tie you up".

Silco complies. Other days Sevika has to force him to; sometimes they even fight like rabid dogs until one overpowers the other. This sweet, quiet surrender is just as exciting, though. It feels like a gift. A price.

Silco's muscles lock together as soon as Sevika starts moving the rope around him. She starts with his wrists, making sure the rope is not too tight to cut the flow, and then it travels up his forearms to include his elbows. The woman adds a few more knots and loops here and there to secure the whole thing together; assuring Silco will have no other option but to stay in place.

He tests the strength anyways. He only feels warmer when he realises just how effective the ropes are.

Silco hears Sevika moving behind him. Away. His breathing is altered by his strain to try to gauge her intentions by sound alone.

She reclines back on the small sofa of Silco's office and drags her pants down. She smirks at the sight of Silco's pale cute ass; hums at the black ropes that snake around his lean arms.

"Kneel in front of me" she orders, and Silco turns around.

Sevika doesn't bother to pay attention to him. She won't make him suffer, but she's not delaying her own pleasure either.

By the time Silco has fought his reluctance to drop down on his knees –carefully swaying to one side without the help of his own hands to stabilise himself–, Sevika already has a hand between her legs.

A small, relieved exhale escapes her lips. She throws her head back, relaxing in the softness of the sofa; swipping two of her fingers through the growing wetness of her lower lips. It's been too long since she last had the time to do this. To enjoy herself without hastily having to rush and rub one out before trying to solve Zaun's next fiasco.

Eyes closed, she feels Silco hovering closer –not touching her yet–, but she ignores him for now.

She plays with herself for a minute; the tip of her fingers teasing her entrance before going up to draw slow, precise circles over her clit. The pleasure scales slowly but surely, but it's not enough stimulation for her to cum yet.

She opens her eyes, fixes her position spreading her legs a tiny bit wider, and shoots Silco a glance.

"Go on. Put that smart mouth to good use, then" she mocks him, half expecting to see an irritated answering expresion on his face.

Silco doesn't bother himself with that. He has been growing hard while watching the woman pleasure herself; fighting the impatience and need to act on it away. He's not wasting the oportunity.

Silco dives down, sinking his tongue on Sevika's wet folds and pressing a firm, generous trace up her pussy. She moans, hips rocking with the sudden attack, a bit surprised Silco had given in into her order that easily. He eats her out like a man starved.

"Fuck" she groans, dropping her head back on the sofa, relaxing and enjoying Silco's undivided attention. "Yeah, lick it all up, baby".

The tiny little moan that escapes Silco's throat will forever echo in Sevika's memory.

Warmth and pleasure expanding in waves inside of her, she sinks her fingers in Silco's hair and forces him closer against her, almost suffocating him with her pussy while she moves her hips freely against his face. Silco lets himself be used as she wishes, and soon Sevika is close to her orgasm.

"Fuck" she mumbles again, suddenly closing her hand around Silco's neck and forcebly dragging him up to a bent stand, growing impatient. "Is your cock hard enough so you can fuck me with it?"

Silco trembles. His erection twitches.

"Yes" his voice wavers with the excitement.

He wasn't sure if she'd allowed him the pleasure of slipping inside of her today.

"Yes, what" she barks, squeezing her fingers around his neck, applying warning pressure.

Silco's breathing turns heavier. A drop of precum runs down the head of his dick. Their eyes lock.

"Yes, mam" he whispers back.

Sevika's grin is almost contagious.

She nods, and Silco is granted permision to push it in.

They both sigh simultaneously.

"Can I?" He asks, voice almost meek now, all traces of the dangerous, crime boss gone.

"You know better than to leave questions at half" she answers, squeezing her walls around him.

Silco's hips falter.

"Can I move now?" Sevika stares. Silco surrenders. "Please?"

Sevika sighs, relaxing again. She drops her hand from Silco's neck.

"Yeah. Fuck me rough and deep, slut".

It's all a sucession of pants and moans and whines from there. Sevika tugs his hair, plays with his throat, sticks her fingers inside his mouth so he has nothing to do but to choke on them while his hips chase hers. Silco is like her own little robot, her personal pleasure slave. She uses him for minutes that feel like hours, aware that he's been holding himself back as for not to cum.

He told her he wasn't in the mood for edging; but she's not letting him finish until he asks for it.

"I-I can't..." he mumbles, drown in pleasure.

"Ask for it" she snaps.

She's close too. She's just as needy and impatient. She's about to explode.

Silco's eyebrow furrors with the effort.

"Please can I cum? Inside of you, please?"

Silco's words sound so sweet and submissive there and then, and his cock drags just right against her walls, fucking her in deep, powerfull moves that feels fucking glorious. His pale skin is flushed, thin lips parted and blue eye hooded; hands still tied behind his back. He looks like her toy, her plaything. With that thought, Sevika cums.

"F-fuck!"

The wave of the orgasm makes the woman clench like a vice around Silco's cock, and then, a few seconds after, drop dead like a ragdoll. Silco makes a keen noise, eyes shutting close, thighs trembling while he fucks her through it. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself if he keeps going; but he will not rest unless she explicitly tells him to.

Thankfully, Sevika takes his needs in interest. His moods, his limits with each new face of the day. And she, for once, is simply mercifull.

"Cum" she whispers, breath panting while she recovers from her high.

And like magic, Silco shudders, moans, and cums. He slumps forward, face-first into Sevika's warm, strong heavy chest. The stress dissolves and the voices quietens inside his head.

He barely registers the womans fingers fiddling with the knot of his confinement until he finds his hands free.

When you’d arrived at the kingpin’s office, you’d hoped to ease some of your frustrations of the day by sitting on his lap and kissing his neck until he laid you out on top of the desk. 

But alas, it was not meant to be.

Silco had accepted your greeting kiss, but that was as far as you’d gotten, because he’d then asked you to wait while he finished some important work, in that smooth voice that always sent shivers down your spine no matter how many times you heard it. 

He did this sometimes. 

He wasn’t mad at you. Far from it. 

No, Silco just occasionally enjoyed testing your patience, making you wait until he felt like you’d earned his attentions. 

Unfortunately for him, today you were feeling rather impatient.

You’d been sitting on the sofa, waiting for a whole ten minutes as he scribbled away at the reports on his desk, when you finally broke the silence.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a massage while you work? It might help you relax,” you offer, in a tone of voice that sounded innocent enough… but Silco knew you far better than that. 

“No, thank you, darling,” he replies, not even gracing you with a look of acknowledgement. 

You frown. 

“How about I help you out of that uncomfortable vest and tie?”

Silco slowly looks up and meets your gaze with an entirely unimpressed expression. 

“Sweetheart,” he emphasises, “I’ve already told you, I will give you anything you want after I am finished with this paperwork.”

It was a warning and not one you took kindly to. You wanted him and you wanted him now. 

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you tip your head backwards until it hits the back of the sofa, leaving you to glare up at the rafters.

Okay, if he wasn’t going to be persuaded with words, then you’d have to make him pay attention to you with actions. 

You push yourself up from the sofa and make your way over to the bookshelf, your fingertips trailing over the various books and trinkets lining the shelves. You take out a book and act as if you’re thoughtfully perusing its contents, before purposefully dropping it on the floor.

“Oops!” you exclaim coyly, making a show of bending over to pick it up and taking your time straightening up.

A quick glance over your shoulder reveals his reaction.

Nothing. He simply carries on reading his report, his eyes glued to the paperwork on the desk.

Fine. Two can play at this game.

Sauntering over to his desk, you perch on the edge opposite him, but instead of turning your body to face him fully, you give him a sideways glance. 

Silco ignores you. 

It’s a struggle not to huff at his blatant disregard for you. But you hold it back. 

Instead, you reach for one of the loose sheets of paper (that you know are unimportant because of where he has placed them) and slowly begin to fold it into a paper plane. Once you’re done, you aim for the door and watch as it flies through the air, only for it to fall short and settle in the middle of the office.

There’s no sound behind you, except for the continuous noise of pen scratching on paper, made by the man who was really beginning to test your patience.

So you make another one and throw it at the phonograph.

Another lands squarely on the sofa as you send it flying across the room.

By the time you’ve made a fourth and launched it at the beautiful stained glass window behind Silco’s desk, you’re having the time of your life. It makes an incredibly satisfying clunk against the window, but you’re broken from your self-entertained state by Silco slamming his pen down on the desk. 

You blanch at the abrupt sound and meet his gaze to find his lip twitching in irritation. 

Silco glares at you for a good few moments, not quite giving you the full-on death stare (you know, the one that usually makes grown men tremble), but it’s still enough to have your insides squirming. 

“Pick those up,” he instructs lowly. 

“No.”

The game you’re playing right now is a dangerous one. 

And you fucking love it. 

You see his mouth tighten and his corrupted eye swirls with a chilling amount of intensity, but the glint in his seafoam eye gives him away. He’s definitely enjoying this just as much as you are. 

Silco leans forward menacingly. 

“Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you acted out? Because I will if you keep pushing me.”

Oh, you loved it when he threatened you like that. And you loved this threat in particular because you want him to do it again. 

It wasn’t often that you teased him like this, but the last time you did, it had been an incredible evening, to say the least. So, you’re going to push it …literally.

Maintaining stubborn eye contact with him the whole time, you stretch your arm out until your fingers touch the cool glass of his whiskey. And you very slowly push it to the side of the desk until it teeters on the edge and, almost like it’s in slow motion, drops to the floor.

It doesn’t smash because the rug beneath the desk cushions its fall, but it does mean that his expensive whiskey soaks right into it, framing the gold and contrasting the blue. 

There’s a split second where Silco’s fist tightens, his knuckles going white from the strained action, and it’s safe to say, he looks positively furious.  

Rather foolishly, you do the very worst thing you could possibly do at this given moment.

You grin.

It must have been the spark to ignite his rage because all of a sudden, his chair swivels and he lunges from it, barely giving you enough time to hurl yourself off the desk and towards the office door.

You bolt as fast as you can across the room, but you’re not quick enough. His arms wrap solidly around your body before you can even think about reaching for the door handle, pulling you backwards with a hard yank. 

Truthfully, taunting the lion in his own den could only bring about this kind of exquisite demise. 

-

You know the game has really begun now because your wrists and ankles are tied up with the short lengths of rope that Silco keeps handy in his desk drawer. 

He was kind enough to let you sit on the chair this time, but made sure that it was placed right in the middle of the room, so anything that could help you out of your restraints was too far to reach.

…The cunning bastard. 

Now that actions were eliminated from your arsenal, it was back to words. 

“Silco,” you whine, knowing full well how you sound, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You’re ignored again and it’s like a switch has been flipped with how rapidly your tone changes.

“Fine. I take it back, I’m not sorry at all. In fact, I’m going to get out of these and when I do I’m going to-”

Silco abruptly stands up from his chair, his facial expression worryingly neutral. Without uttering a single word, he rounds the desk and prowls towards you, his dexterous hands slowly removing the silk tie from his collar.

You should have spotted the red flags instantly, but instead, you let your aroused body do the thinking and interpret his undressing as a win. 

Fuck, yes.

He’d finally given in to your less-than-subtle demands, you’re certain of it. 

That is, certain until he rolls up the tie, pinches the inside of your thigh until you yelp, and shoves the tie into your mouth.

…Well, you should have seen that one coming.

You wriggle in the chair in fake indignation as he turns sharply on his heel and returns to his desk and that damned paperwork. Truthfully, you’re not mad at all. It was all part of the game. Getting him so riled up, he’d end up taking his frustrations out on you in the best way possible. 

You jerk against the restraints once more and try to spit out the tie but you soon realise it’s pointless. 

Watching him read his paperwork as if you weren’t there, his neck now exposed with the top button of his shirt undone, was practically torture. 

“Thilco,” you struggle to say around the tie, slumping back against the chair as much as you can with your hands tied behind your back. 

He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow. 

If your mouth wasn’t currently occupied by a silk tie, you’d be heavily pouting, but without that little weapon, you resort to pleading with him using your best puppy dog eyes. 

“Pease,” you mumble pathetically. 

Silco sighs heavily, as if you’d just asked him to walk all the way to Piltover and back. 

“Are you going to behave?” 

“Yeff,” you murmur emphatically, nodding your head for emphasis. 

There’s a pause as he openly considers your request, and he must have oh so graciously decided in your favour, because he stands once again and makes his way over to you.

You keep the innocent expression on your face as he approaches you and gently pulls the now sodden tie from your mouth. An overexaggerated jaw roll from you and Silco is leaning down over you to untie your wrists behind your back, leaving his beautiful neck ripe for the picking.

It’s an opportunity that you just can’t resist. 

You latch onto his neck in a messy, open-mouthed kiss and suck, nipping his skin just enough with your teeth to have him jerking his head away from you. 

Silco’s hands clamp around your thighs, tightening around your flesh so hard that you jolt backwards in return, allowing you to see his utterly feral expression, strands of his hair hanging down onto his forehead. 

Oh fuck, you were going to get it now. 

He releases your surely-bruised thighs and hauls you up onto his shoulder, as if you weigh nothing at all. Gods, it was easy to forget how strong he was. 

But as he carries you into the bedroom, you’re delightfully reminded of that fact. 

You make one last ditch effort to feign remorse, crying out, “I’m sorry! I’ll be good, I promise!” which only earns you a firm slap on your backside. 

Once in the bedroom, you’re tossed onto the bed, still tied up at both your wrists and ankles, as you land face down on the silk sheets. 

You crane your neck to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Silco locking the bedroom door and turning to face you.

The look on his gorgeous, wicked face as he stalks slowly towards you sends an electrifying thrill through your entire body. 

I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

You don’t even realise you’re whispering aloud until Silco answers you. 

“Oh, I know you’re going to be good for me, doll” he drawls, getting closer and closer with each step, “After that little display, you’re going to give me anything I want.”

-

Although he’s obviously concerned about your trouble walking this late in your pregnancy, a tiny part of him is rather glad that you’re physically unable to put yourself in harm’s way. 

If you didn’t have the capability to get up and down the stairs without assistance, then you sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to navigate your way through the busy streets of Zaun.

Silco is about half-way through reading a very detailed report on the newest shimmer factory, when you quietly shuffle into his office. But with his chair facing towards the opposite wall, he doesn’t hear you until you make your presence known with your gentle voice.

“Sil?” you call out softly. 

“Yes, my lovely?” he replies, swivelling his chair to face you, loosely holding the clipboard aloft.

It’s not until he’s gazing at you fully that he notices you’re desperately clutching onto the side of the desk with both hands. 

“I think my waters have broken.”

The clipboard loudly clatters against the floor and Silco is sure that if he could see himself in a mirror, he’d look like a deer in headlights. 

As he all but leaps up from his chair and steps over the clipboard to get to you, Silco automatically begins to rattle through every detail he’d learnt about what was going to happen. Wanting to be as prepared for this baby as possible, he’d taken to reading as much as he could, with the main goal being to support you as best he can.

But it was two days before your expected due date and Silco was not as mentally prepared as he would have liked. 

Trust his child to sneak up on him like that…

“Are you having contractions?” he asks when he reaches your side.

“Yes,” you reply with a slight frown.

“Right, let’s get you to the doctor,” he instructs as calmly as possible, placing one hand on your back and the other on your shoulder to gently usher you out of the room. 

But you don’t budge. 

“Silco, there’s no point, they’re only ten minutes apart and they’re not that strong at the moment,” you sigh, finally releasing your grip on the desk to face him. 

And for the first time in a long time, Silco doesn’t know what to do. 

Sure, he could act in the interest of his business and the future of Zaun in the blink of an eye if need be (though, granted, it wasn’t his preference). 

But when it came to the life-changing situation that was the birth of his baby, he felt like a fish out of water. 

So, he channels all of his nervous energy into taking care of you.

A cautious hand on your round belly before he retracts it like he’s been burned, then to your shoulder again, your back, even your forehead with the backs of his fingers.

You look deep into his panicked eyes, gently take his wandering hands into yours, and exhale softly. 

“Sil, it’s fine, we’ll go when they’re five minutes apart.”

“What should I do in the meantime?”

He needs to do something. Silco knows that there’s nothing to be done yet, but he couldn’t just carry on with his work like you weren’t getting closer and closer to delivering his child. 

“If you really want to help, you could rub my back,” you tell him, the tiniest amount of pain shining through your features, “That book you bought said it’s meant to help.”

And that was how Silco found himself kneeling on the floor in front of his desk, rubbing your lower back as you knelt on all fours in front of him.

“You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” Silco reassures you as you groan in pain, right as Sevika swings the door open and steps into the room. 

At the sight in front of her, Sevika’s eyes widen, her hand still wrapped around the door handle.

“Fuck that,” she grunts, stepping backwards out of the office.

Silco’s head snaps up to glare at her. 

If she wasn’t going to be supportive, then she could at least do something useful. 

“Sevika, inform Jinx. She will know what to do.”

“Is she…you know…ready to push out the gremlin?” Sevika gestures vaguely towards you and grimaces.

Silco clenches his jaw at her inconsiderate phrasing and the fact that she spoke about you as if you weren’t in the room.

‘She is in labour,” he snaps at her, just before you groan again loudly, “And is doing it brilliantly,” Silco reassures you, his tone of voice changing instantaneously.

Once your groans of pain have subsided, he hisses out his command again to his right-hand woman. 

“Now go and tell Jinx.”

Sevika exits the office and it isn’t until the door is shut once again that he turns his attention back to you.

You. The love of his life. Who was going through all this pain to bring his child into the world. 

His brief moment of temper is already beginning to melt away, replaced with an eternal abundance of worry and love for you. 

“Can you help me up? I need to move,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Of course, darling.”

He’d do anything for you.

-

Finally sitting beside you on the velvet sofa, you struggle to find a position that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

Silco wishes he could do more. He wishes he could erase all your pain. Make it so you never feel anything but comfort.

You deserved a life free of pain. 

If only he could share this with you, like when he took on your worries. 

Lost in his thoughts, he’s pulled back to reality by your sudden howl, flinching as your body almost folds in half. 

His seafoam eye widens in horror and his corrupted one swirls intensely. 

Fuck. The contractions were getting much more frequent and by the sounds of your whimpers, much more painful.

And in a way that only happens when it involves yours or Jinx’s distress, Silco begins to panic. 

“Is this normal? Should it be hurting this much? Let me fetch the book-”

Silco moves to stand but your fingers grab harshly onto his arm before he can even take a step. When he looks back at you, the sight almost breaks his heart.

Your face contorts in anguish as you let out an agonising sob, tears instantly filling your pretty eyes and pouring down your flushed cheeks. 

“Oh darling, what’s the matter?” he says helplessly, sitting back down as your heaving cries fill the room.

He knows it’s a stupid question, but he can’t help but ask it anyway. 

“I’m scared,” you eventually admit through breathless sobs, “I- I’m not sure I can do this.” 

Silco feels like a weight has dropped through his chest. 

Not only were you going through the most intense pain you’d probably ever felt in your life, but you were also, quite understandably, terrified. And here he was adding to your stress by making it all about him.

You’d been so calm this whole pregnancy that he’d somehow managed to forget how adept you were at pretending to be okay so he wouldn’t worry. 

Gods, he feels like the most selfish man alive.

“I know you’re frightened, my love, I know,” he sighs, looping one arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you into his side, being mindful of your stomach, “But I also know that you can do this. You are the strongest person I know.”

Much stronger than him, but he doesn’t admit that. 

Your sobs of fear eventually subside with his reassuring words and when your contractions become too close together for his nerves to handle, he finally gets you to the doctor.

A bedroom in The Drop had been converted just for you to give birth in; a personal project that Silco had spent weeks ensuring was comfortable and contained all the necessary equipment. 

But the very moment you were using the room for its intended purpose, Silco was banished to the corridor outside it, where he was pacing anxiously, a scowl on his face.

How dare the doctor exile him from his own property. 

How dare he stop him from comforting you when you needed it most.

How dare he-

The very second Silco hears you scream out in pain from behind the door, he storms into the room and grabs a hold of your hand, which you respond to by squeezing until the bones in his hand nearly snap.

-

Hours later in the calm after the storm, Silco stands peacefully at the window of the bedroom while you quietly rest on the bed behind him.

He looks down at the bundle in his arms and his heart immediately fills with an intense emotion that he couldn’t begin to define, even if he wanted to. 

His newborn baby stares back up at him with tiny seafoam green eyes, a mirror to his one remaining. 

His daughter. 

A whimper as Silco adjusts his hold so that the baby can see the outside world, whilst ensuring the head is still supported, he begins to speak in a low tone, that is wobbly for a syllable or two, until he gets it under control.

“One day this city will be yours, my child,” he begins, “And your sister’s. I must admit, little one, I myself am not particularly fond of sharing, but your mother insists that it is an important quality we must teach you.”

He hears you sigh quietly behind him and without looking, he knows you’ve just rolled your eyes. 

Silco’s volume drops even lower as he brings the baby closer to him. 

“I’m doing all of this for you, my child. And for your mother and sister, of course. You will grow up in a Zaun better than the one I grew up in.”

Yes, Silco still believed that Zaun was worth saving all on its own. But now, his vision had been tilted.

Now, he was fighting for his family. The one he never thought he’d have. 

“When I was a young man, slightly older than you are now, I was drowned by my-”

A tiny little snore interrupts his monologue and he glances down at the baby now fast asleep in his arms.

“Hmmpf,” he scowls at the tiny bundle. 

You chuckle tiredly behind him.

“Looks like falling asleep to your monologues runs in the family,” you joke as he turns to face you, “You can take the night shift when she can’t sleep.”

“I was unaware that my attempts to share my hard-earned lessons were so unappreciated,” he drawls, moving to sit down beside you on the single bed.

You shuffle along so he can stretch his legs out with his back supported by the headboard, a task that is more difficult than it looks now that he is carefully holding his sleeping newborn. 

Reaching up, you shakily hold his chin with your fingers and pull him into a slow, languid kiss, that is full of love and exhaustion. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too.”

He did. More than he could ever say. 

Slowly taking the baby from him, you sigh quietly as he wraps one arm around your shoulder and pulls you gently against his side, in a way that isn’t too dissimilar to how he’d held you before.

Except now, you were holding your beautiful new daughter.  

“You know, we still need to pick a name,” you murmur, looking up from her sleeping face to his enraptured one. 

“That we do,” he nods in agreement. 

“Maybe we should ask Jinx if she has any ideas.”

“Hmm, perhaps not, considering the last time we asked, she suggested we name the baby ‘Hot Dog’,” he says, with a roll of his eyes.

You laugh openly and Silco can’t help but smile at the sight.

He can’t wait for Jinx to meet her new baby sister. 

Of course, whatever name you both pick, Silco silently vows to himself that he’s going to make sure you’re all happy and cared for.

The love he feels for you, for all of you, at this moment in time, is truly indescribable. 

His two daughters and his beautiful partner. 

His three girls.