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thehistoriangirl · 2 years

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Where the Woods Brought Us Together [1]

I’m sorry, this idea took me longer than I expected, so this fic is gonna be divided in two parts. I only finished the first one to be part of the Arcane Halloweek 2022 day 1: Full Moon

Viktor x Fem!Reader---9K---SFW but check tags

Part Two

Part Three

Synopsis: There was a time when the forest and the village lived in balance. The humans went to the woods to harvest its fruits and cut down the dead trees from where luxury furniture was carved, and in exchange, the people would venerate and protect the wood’s heart, giving offerings and humming chants, telling them stories. Those times are long gone. Only remaining the fear of the immortal and powerful woods that rule over the village, only foolish woodcutters and valiant explorers dare to approach the forest. Except for the solitary family that lived in the little cottage at the edge of the woods. A lineage deeply connected to the trees and the creatures who hide inside them. The village knows—but anyone is sure about how deep the bond runs. Nevertheless, you're willing to try for the sake of saving the villagers from their demise. Perhaps, with some luck, you can convince the forest and its guardian of giving their mercy, praying the cost won’t be too high.

The forest was blocking the path as the sky grew darker. Thorny bushes extended branches that clung to your clothes, making your companion curse every other step forward. His axe was useless, falling into the humid ground with a muffled sound. You were running out of time, and the woods knew it, probably even relinquish in such fact.

Wind whistled above the foliage covering the last traces of sunlight, sky painted bloody red in those fleeting blinks of color between the treetops. The lumberjack in front of you quickly tried to slide between each section of the forest, his panting breath the only steady sound besides your heartbeat.

With each minute passing, the only thing rolling tirelessly in your head was why did they venture so far? And the trees seemed to respond they deserve what they’re getting. Your hands clenched in the knitted bag hung on your left shoulder, glass bottles clinking together like alarm bells.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Shaking your head, you followed the lumberjack closer when the path covered in mud and rocks disappeared and everything was just moss growing into dead trunks and dry plants. Old symbolic carvings could be seen in the trunks, faded in time, and yet you could hear faint voices humming chants into the depths of the woods, in a lost time when they were safe.

This is too far, you pondered, seeing how the trees devoured the light, encapsulating the clearing ahead in a bubble of centenary trees, judging eyes that lurked from above like regal lords, like giants whose castle has been trespassed.

You are an intruder here, they hissed when you stepped into the clearing, breaking branches so loudly you thought of yourself as a deer caught in a trap.

I know, you replied with your head low, brows furrowed when you noticed it wasn’t a clearing, but rather, a fraction made artificially one by cutting down trees. Your legs felt wobbly as if the ground would've opened like an immense mouth, ready to gnaw at you for being so naïve to accept helping foreign lumberjacks out of the forest.

“Did you cut all the trees? Why?” While observing the eerily passage, from the corner of your eye you saw the man twitch his arms and neck. You thought fleetingly, he moved like a deceased animal, only nerves responses due to temperature changes. You wanted to puke, bile rising dangerously in your throat, blocking your futile attempts into taking shallow breaths. What was that rotten smell?

The woodcutter rearranged the leather bracelets in his left hand, giving you a warning look.

"Just cure him, this is out of your business." Your nails dug into the tender flesh of your palms. Foolish, then. That's why only foreigners dared to get involved with the oldest part of the forest, in the heart where monsters roamed. His brownish eyes shone with repulsion while his gaze swept you. Witch was written all over his features.

But you were no witch. Your healer’s kit sounded with the clashing glass bottles as you moved near the afflicted, a short man with wide torso who seemed to be moving randomly as if it were a rag doll instead. His curly, yellow hair was filled with green moss, his legs were stained with mud his hands took fistfuls of the dirt around him.

“Stop that crap!” the lumberjack yelled at his partner, kneeling and trying to stop his arms from digging. “Cut it, damn it!” The shivery edge of his voice made you notice he was as afraid as you.

It wasn’t a normal seizure, but you already knew it.

You were drinking tea and polishing your grandmother's ceramic when a man banged at your door and explained—half curses and half screams—that his partner was cutting down the biggest tree in the clearing when he screamed and fell into the catatonic state you were seeing him. His eyes white and jaw so tighten you were almost sure he broke parts of his teeth.

You took the bottle filled with laurel, mint, and rosemary extract, a mix of the strongest aromatic herbs you had, soaking a little rag and collocating it in the man's nose. The forest smelled like rain and wet, putrid leaves, and much more now. In your little hut, such essence would remain for days, but here it seemed as weak as a cheap cologne, fading away too quickly.

You needed to free him from the forest grasp, but it wasn’t working. Nibbling at your bottom lip, your blood tasted metallic and sweet; the sudden pain refocused your attention. Sinister shadows closed in, the sun long gone.

The woods liked to devour both foolish people and time.

“So?” the lumberjack shook your shoulder with extra force, making you spill the rest of the essence into your skirt. “Why is Chief Zack not getting better?”

Because you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn't be cutting down the trees, not these.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, your knees covered in mud when you stood up. “I don’t know, I don’t think he can be sav— ah!” The man snatched your bag, throwing your remedies into the ground while he seemed to pour every bottle’s content inside his partner’s mouth. “No! Stop! Some aren’t edible!”

He pushed you away. “Stupid useless witch.”

You would’ve shouted something foul back, but fear held your tongue, the silence extended in the clearing like a bad omen. Too still even at night, when the forest came to life. When you gazed over the line of trees, so close to each other it looked more like a wall, you saw too many eyes looking back.

Blood rushed up your ears, frozen limbs over the cold ground. Your heart banged wildly against your ribcage, and you wondered in they could hear it.

Branches began to break, stepped on.

“What the hell are you doing? Help me!” the man yelled at you, and between the white orbs watching in the penumbra, three golden eyes appeared, high above the others. You didn’t mind his rash words, barely listening to his curses, so he scoffed, and straightened his figure to see past the clearing. "What are you even looki—”

You’re an intruder, the wind blew cold as in winter, and you asked yourself how the creatures’ eyes could shine without external light. Shivering, you retreated until your back hit a trunk. You’re an intruder, you’re an intruder. Even inside your head, all you could think was you’re an intruder.

“… out of it! Help me! Snap out of it and help me carry him!” the man’s yells came like a wave of reality. Low growls were surrounding you, those eyes nearer than before. The lumberjack tried to drag his partner towards you, but no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t move him. His breath was irregular, voice shaking. “Help me! Damn it why he doesn’t move?”

A growl. Something barked, the crack of a branch—or it was a bone?

A warm voice made its space over the cold indifference of the forest. I’m going reassured, knowing I leave the village in good hands. The hands of your grandma were always warm, even against the humid forest ground.

“You shouldn’t have cut these trees,” you muttered, standing up and checking on the man. His fist was covered in dirt that stopped moving moments ago and yet half his arm was covered in mud just like his thighs. When you peeked at his face, you see his mouth open in a silent, frozen scream, eyes fixated on something above you.

“What?” he snapped back. Your shaking hands were quick while trying to lift his head. Among the dusty hair, wet from being covered in dirt, you feel the new bristliness of roots, lines connecting him to the cursed ground that made him fall. Your fingers froze. “Who do you think you are, witch?”

“I’m no witch,” you replied, leaving the man, and stepping away, looking at the new company stepping into view. The dogs were gigantic, sections of dark furs contrasted with their skeletons, bare-bones white like ghosts, white like their seemingly blind eyes that gazed, ironically, hungrily at you two; and as ghosts, they sure didn't make any noise either. “But you’d wished I could be one now.”

The man looked confused and angry, standing at his threatening height, his steps too careless while approaching you. He didn't say the dogs approaching. “What did you say, witch?”

“Only a witch can save us,” you muttered, closing your eyes as the creature jumped into the man’s back, jaws wide open and devoid of flesh, which only made its fangs elongate; the movement rising a blow of cold air against your feverish brow—the confirmed sign you spent too much time inside the forest. “And I’m no witch.”

The lumberjack fell against you, both bodies knocking the ground, it left you breathless. From the corner of your vision, you saw the other man moving desperately into the ground, as the rest of the pack throw dirt over his body. His companion was screaming enough for both, making your eardrums hurt from the agonizing cries he shouted in your ear as the dog tore apart both flesh and cloth.

Time seemed trapped inside this forest, the trees being immortals compared to human lives. They lived at their rhythm, one much slower and contemplative.

Right now, it was crueler. Blood soaking your clothes, your body being too warm to too cold in a blink; a beast charging at the shuddered body on top of you, his cries diminish into his last breaths. The trees looked, you could feel their gaze—and speaking of gazes, where were those golden eyes?

“I’m… an… intruder…” the lumberjack muttered, and then he stopped responding altogether. Nausea covered your spinning head, and blurry vision when the body fall next to you, leaving you bare and unprotected from the white dog approaching you.

You couldn’t see the other man anymore, instead, a pack of five dogs were surrounding your lying figure, eyes focused on the trees behind you.

The crackle of a branch. Were you going to die, too?

“Grandma… I’m sorry…” Your vision became blurry as light flooded your eyes.

“Let’s go,” someone said, and the dogs all looked at the voice’s source. You couldn’t focus your eyes on it, everything was getting too dark inside you.

If you’d have the strength to fight, you would probably have been pushed away when the voice lifted you, head hung heavy with each stride between cold arms holding your back and legs. The dogs trailed behind, orbs floating in the darkness. You could see the branches retreating out the path until the sky broke visible, a blessing dressing in navy blue.

The voice left you at the entrance of your hut, in the flowerbed of wild daisies that decorated part of your front yard. Your eyelids were already closing when the voice—a soft tone with a peculiar cadence you haven’t heard before— said: “Goodnight.”

He was leaving, but among the delirium weighing your eyes and the relief of being out of the woods, you could see golden eyes shining like the stars above gazing at you one last time.

It didn’t take too much time for the news to spread into the little village—or better, the absence of the lumberjacks who decided to run away when they couldn’t find the bodies of the chiefs among the trees the next day of their disappearance.

Your scratches from the thorny bushes weren't healed enough when someone banged on your door on a quiet, clouded night at the end of the summer season, the interior lit by candles because it was too hot to use the hearth.

You could feel the heat emanating from the other side before you took the metal handle to pull it open. Joel, the village hostel’s owner was there, holding a torch that drew amorph shadows in his serious face.

“Miss, please come with me.”

“What happened?” you were ready to put on your shoes, looking from the corner of your eye to the open bag covered in mud from the other day.

“You aren’t safe here. Please let me escort you to the hostel.” Your steps froze, silhouette flashing with the torch’s flame being moved by the sudden cold wind.

Turning to face him, you saw dimmed glances of red and orange flames against the dark browns and greens of the forest. They’re getting too close. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Joel shook his head, a grimace that looked out of place on his face that was all smiling. "The people are scared; we lost an excellent investment with the lumberjacks the other day." His green eyes were surrounded by purple eye bags over overnights of insomnia. "We cannot allow it anymore.”

The trees were taller, looming shadows over the little hut that belonged to your grandmother before her passing now handed over to you along with the duty of protecting the village.

“You can’t win,” you retorted, fidgeting with the loose threads in the hem of your shirt. “Please, do not commit a mistake you all will regret.” You took Joel’s right hand, over the handle of an axe. “I’m asking you this not like some ominous healer, but as Amaya’s granddaughter. Please make them reconsider.”

But even before you ended your sentence, you could see the hard stubbornness in Joel’s eyes. When he shoved your hands away, you didn’t even flinch.

“It’s time to stop fearing a cluster of trees and take control of it, young lady. They’re only old legends and stupid superstitions.”

These people act like the forest belonged to them.

A cluster of trees? The forest was many things, but a simple group of trees wasn’t one of those. You shook your head then, nails nibbling at your bottom lip. “Good luck, then. But I will remain here.”

“If you believe this is going to work to stop us…”

“No, it isn’t my intention.” You will need me close when the plan gets sour. "I can't let my grandma's house become ashes; you see. It’s everything I have left from my family.”

Joel nodded, absent and with an apex of doubt in the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly. But you didn't mind if he thought you’d be doing a ritual to help the forest as you tilted your head to express him a silent goodbye before closing the door.

You weren’t a witch. No magic could pour off your fingers to protect not the house much less the forest. Though you knew it wouldn’t be needed.

Torches lit, so many they looked like astray stars burning too close to each other, stars in disgrace being too close to the ground. The nights in the forest were usually bottomless black, and now it looked like a succession of fake dawns, flames licking trees so wide you couldn't hug a trunk completely.

They died too quickly, the flames. You had to block your windows from smoke filtering inside, as a result of the wood being too wet. Sitting in the empty little living room, watching from the main window over the forest’s edge into its depths, you hummed while chewing absently your lips.

For whom you were fearing? You weren’t sure. Many men of the village joined the desperate plan, teenagers, and elders; but the forest was far older than any of them with their ages added together.

Even if the start was an even one, it took a couple of hours to make you realize which side the balance tip-off. You were startled by a bolt of ground-breaking lightning, gigantic raindrops hitting the tin roof, and a cacophony that made your head began to pound. The woods were dark in a second, bloody red and orange in another, and the ground covered in smoke. Like blinks, the fires died even if allegedly, the rain couldn’t infiltrate the forest that easily.

Over the storm, you heard the screams that died as quickly as the flames that now were extinct against the deep abyss of the woods. They seemed like a flicking nightmare, but your lips covered in blood were proof enough.

You can’t win, you remember the heavy sorrow conquering your voice. Deep inside your being, you wished you could be wrong. It didn’t matter how much time you spent looking outside longingly, wishing someone could sprint out of the woods so you could aid them, hide them.

Nobody came out.

They fell like the rain, you thought the next day when the sun tried to peek over the dense clouds covering the forest and the village. Both mist and smoke mixed low in the ground, making it hard to see more than a few meters away from the deserted yard. Incessantly, unmercifully, violently.

It had only been one night of rain, though your sixth sense could foretell that the majority of crops were already ruined, result of both the enormous raindrops and the hails freezing and drowning the crops in every field surrounding the woods. You knew, too, the forest wouldn’t stop with just one night—or day.

Not with two, or three, it seemed. Your house was beginning to get colder, and your groceries were running out quickly, too. Mist still covered the ground, but mud was already entering the living room, windows filled with fog from the lit hearth.

The village should be completely flooded by now. At this point, your bottom lip was raw from all the chewing you did in your idle time—which was a lot now that you couldn’t go out.

Your brow was extremely warm against the frigid window, and heavy eyes from restless nights settled into the forest ahead. Please stop, you wanted to beg it. It was too much. Does it want to kill everyone in the village? You felt your cold feet heavy, your heart falling silent as it skipped a beat.

Does the forest want to kill the whole village?

I’m going knowing I leave the village in good hands, you remembered as if you were soaked in the rain, limbs stiff and clattering teeth.

“No, please.” The door was stuck with mud accumulated between the slab and the cobblestone yard. Your shoes got soaked when you kicked the mud out. “They’re innocent!” you shouted when stumbling into the yard that now resembled more of a lagoon, each step plunged into a pair of centimeters of mud and stagnant water.

The ground was covered in mist that broke into little fragments of clouds with each motion of your coat—now completely soaked. But it didn’t stop you from climbing the hill, towards the woods.

“They’re innocent! Do you want to know who the guilty ones were?" you shouted, throat sore from the sudden usage of the chilling climate. “You already know! You’ve killed them all!”

You entered, seeking shelter from the deluge that probably left bruises over your arms while covering your skull from the sudden hail falling from the sky. Not even the lightning could illuminate the insides of the forest. Your wet shoes tripped over dead torches, and up until then, you could see the remnants of the battle—or better, the massacre. Torches were broken, splinters scattered into the dark ground like bone fragments. More than once, walls of wet, dead branches hung blocking the view, thorns tearing your clothes and hair. Over your touch, your hands got stained with ashes over some trunks.

Yes, they could burn some parts, but not any single treetop was incinerated.

It was a foolish fight, a stupid decision, a terrible mistake—

“Ack!” you fell, ankle twisted with some mounts of dirt piling up in the middle of the path. “What’s this?” Up to your touch, you could feel rags of burned clothing already rotten away, some clanks of metallic lighters already empty.

They were absorbing them already, with almost nothing left of those who ventured inside the woods. You looked over the trees, wasn’t this enough? As you walked over the forest’s heart, scratches made your frigid skin warm up with blood flooding down your cheeks and ankles. How much revenge is this place needed?

Goosebumps covered your skin, clothes already soaked in rain and now freezing, burning cold. Every little mountain of dirt looked like a mocking grave.

As you got closer to the center of the forest, the ground was dry and still, the noise of the storm fading away with each step. “Why these aren’t enough?” you said, stopping into the familiar clearing and kicking another mount of dirt. There weren’t any signs of human bodies or any signs of other living things around besides the trees.

You were scared, teeth clattering even as you tried to steady yourself with each limp of your twisted ankle, arms tucked against your chest.

Please stop. “Do you want to kill us all?” Tears warmed your face when the blood dried, and your body temperature dropped inside the still bubble of coldness, in the air, in the ground, in everything.

You heard a branch break behind you.

“Well, perhaps not you.” Your eyes widened when golden light flowed inside the clearing, allowing you to see some saplings already growing into the place of the cut trunks.

“You,” you breathed, falling to your knees as you tried to turn around. The ground was softer here, like quicksand. The sudden light covered your sight with black dots dancing in your vision.

You could still not see him clearly, darkness behind cut around his figure as he spoke. The dogs weren’t around this time, but that didn’t make you feel at ease. He was taller than any man in the village, two piercing golden eyes looked at yours without blinking, the third one being a light source instead, hung above his head in a third arm.

"You remember me," he said, and his voice sounded slightly surprised. Amused, maybe?

“Can you make it stop?” you comment, because that’s why you were here, half frozen and with the deadly certainty of a dangerous fever overtaking you as soon as you leave the woods.

Little by little, you could gaze at him when your eyes grew used to the light. He was using a wood mask, only his eyes visible. Actually, his body was covered in armor made of dark wood, a staff grasped in his right hand of the same material, ivy tangled around it. You could only see a hue of mahogany hair sending copperish hues around the light.

“What?”

“The rain,” you replied as if it weren’t obvious. “It’s flooding my village.”

“The village who wanted to burn the forest to the ground, yes?”

You stopped, pulling your coat up your chest, even if the cold just wouldn’t leave. “… they got scared when the woodcutters disappeared.” Disappeared, not murdered. He locked eyes with you as if reading your thoughts.

“I wonder who told them what happened.”

“I didn’t,” you scoffed back, glaring at him even if you have to tilt your neck back to see his mask. “They know what happens to people who disappear inside these woods, I suppose. Wonder why." You cleared your throat, a dry cough making you a ball while shaking. “Please. There are children and innocent people down there, whose adult family is now gone because the forest ate them, and then the storm happened. Do you know how bad it’s down the village?” You turned so you could face him directly, little branches scratching your already bruised knees. “My house is almost flooded, it should be a deluge down there! Crops are ruined, and houses, too. What does the forest want, then?”

The man leaned against a tree, voice lost in thought. “Do you think this can be amended?”

“I want to try.” You shrugged. “The forest and the people have been living in harmony for centuries before, I believe it can be amended." The silence that came after made you continue after seeing his stoic figure, copying your posture of crossed arms against his chest. “Alright, you don’t believe in them. What can I do to fix it?”

“Why do you want to help them so badly? They were about to burn down your hut the moment you stepped outside of it.”

“I’m not protecting them, I’m protecting their families that didn’t have a word in the decision.” Furrowing, you added: “How do you know where my hut is?”

He shrugged back. “There aren’t any other huts over the forest edge, I can see it when I walk around.”

“Do you live here?” His chuckle sounded more like a growl inside the echo of the mask.

“Do I look like a villager to you?” You didn’t answer. He didn’t need reassurance, anyway. “Tell me why you want to help them, and if your answer is convincing enough, I’ll consider it.”

You scowled at his words, not even a safe statement could come out of them. “Because I promised my grandma to take care of the village in her name when she died. I… I don't want to disappoint her.”

If his eyes could blink, then they did, golden light flickering while moving closer to your now seated position on the muddy ground. “I see you’re Amaya’s granddaughter.” You only gazed at him, totally in silence. “Very well, you have two days to come up with something.” He leaned into his staff. “The forest isn’t going to give you much longer.”

Nodding, you said: “Thanks.” You were expecting him to leave, so you could crawl back to your hut, but he continued blocking the path ahead, his lantern illuminating your figure covered in mud, thorns, blood, and soaked from the rain. “…What?”

“Can… you walk?”

You blinked. And why do you care? But instead, you swallowed the sour question. “I think so.”

“Alright, then stand up.” He didn’t sound convinced, walking slowly towards you until his boots were brushing the fabric of your skirt.

You bit your lip, putting your body on all fours, but only three balance points were working correctly as you tried to stand up, the right leg wobbling as soon as you got over your left foot. It hurt, hot pain running your veins against the cold clothes that drag you down. Your arms were pushing your left thigh in a futile attempt of aiming for balance.

“Next time, please don’t lie to me.” The man offered his hand, wood armor over black, worn-out leather gloves. You took it after a moment of pondering, but it wasn't a good idea to try both his patience and your pride. You wandered a lot before stumbling here, and you didn't want to lose too much time trying to come out of the woods instead of fixing the village's mess.

To make the way back to the hut a more normal one—even if the man, or creature, or whatever he was, put his arm around your waist while you had to do the same to walk—you asked things. The words filled awkward silences where you had to pretend you weren't so close when you ignored the way the branches and bushes moved away from the constricted path once again as he moved forward, brilliant eyes peeking over the foliage as the forest came back to life with owls looking over their nests, foxes crossing the path in a swish of gentle wind moving the leaves.

Many eyes were observing them, reflecting the golden light of the forest's guardian in unblinking orbs.

“The forest is more active at night,” he said while you were observing an owl from afar. “Humans aren’t here to threaten them.”

“Are you only active at night, then?” you muttered, hoping that over your clumsy stomps he wouldn’t listen.

But you were unlucky. “No. I’m around all day but I can only show my… eh, full strength at night.” Like the dogs and the man with roots, you didn’t have to ask about those things. Which meant that, when your grandma told you stories about the forest's guardian and his quests to protect his homeland, she was talking about him.

You could see the hut ahead, sky still cloudy but with the rain coming down as a drizzle. Mist gone, but the surroundings of your garden were still flooded, a little lagoon that reflected the light in the man's third arm as if the water were made of liquid gold.

“You can stop here, I can get going on my own.”

“You can barely walk in even floor, you’re going to fall as soon as you put a foot in there,” he retorted, his arm tightening the grasp on your waist. “Hold on tight, yes?”

“Wh— ah!” You held into his neck when he carried you over, his steady rhythm didn’t slow with the uncertain terrain, but rather you could hear the ripple his steps made into the water, reflecting into the little fruit trees outlining the descending path towards the oxidated gate of your hut. Peeking under his mask, you could see the end of the wood and the beginning of pale skin down in a sharp jawline.

He let you in your entrance’s threshold, and you could note his quick inspection of your kitchen and living room. "You should take a warm bath, perhaps drink some eucalypt tea and inhale some of its vapor, if you can. Or you’ll be sick.”

“I will. Thank you.” You bit your lip to not reply instead: I will, Grandma. Did he tell her about that remedy, too? “You didn’t have to take me all the way here.”

He fidgeted with his staff. “The forest wounded you when you only tried to help, thus, I’m responsible to an extent.” The man was already walking away. “I’ll see you in two days.”

Two days? Oh right, the deal. You were ready to respond, but he was already gone when you looked over the gate, rain took away with him.

An offering. The townsfolk said. We'll make rituals and offering to the trees as our ancestors did.

Yes, they sat in the trees' shadows and told them stories, painted them when spring came, and offered their best crops at the end of the winter as a promise of a fortunate climate for the rest of the year after the frost of February and early March. People buried valuable heirlooms right after the deaths of some loved ones, they asked the forest to cut down a tree and insert a crop.

They didn’t offer people.

But then again, flooding never had happened in the village before. It was normal people were scared after seeing all the things the woods were capable of doing.

Still, it didn’t sit too well with you to be the main offering. The people said it was because you're the most important person in the village, being the only healer and the only want who could talk to the forest.

What happens in the forest kills me, then? You thought but didn’t say anything as they gave you a calming tea too strong for only being a tranquilizer.

Now, while resting on one of the main paths to entering the woods, hands tied at your back, thin cloth between your body and the ground, your mind came back to the same question.

It was getting dark, and not even the coat and the fluffy sweater could make you stop shivering—maybe it was more than cold. Your back was against a tree, its rough surface couldn’t be your anchor despite how much you wanted to.

You were tired after scheduling meetings with the townsfolk in the village’s church that was localized atop a hill, planning some repairs to the crops and the houses if the plan worked out. There was still uncertainty, but it was better than hopelessness.

Just as dusk, the man with golden eyes appeared from behind some trees as if you agreed to meet here beforehand. Besides your presence, there was a basket filled with expensive, exported wine, some jewelry family heirlooms, and a couple of rare books at your feet. He still has his mask on, but you could paint his amused expression after entering the path, a brow raised with a crooked grin, perhaps.

“So, after two days to think of a solution, you come up with a date?”

“You aren’t that lucky. It’s an offering.”

He tilted his head slightly. “If that’s the case, what are you doing here, then?”

Lips pressed on a wrenched line; you couldn’t see him right in the eye. “I’m part of the offering.”

The man stopped in his tracks, half a distance from you. "That's… intriguing, for sure.” He continued after finishing, dry leaves crunching after his slow steps before he kneeled to be at your eyes level. “May I ask why they consider you would be a proper offering for the woods, hmm?”

You didn’t know he could be this sarcastic.

“People say I’m an amazing companion, mind you.” He was inspecting the basket, peeking over the books’ titles. The only sound was your breathing and the clicks of the artifacts clattering between them and his hands.

“I do not differ entirely.”

“Entirely?”

"You do seem very interested in what I think about you." You almost gasped, feeling the rough rope digging at your wrists when your shoulders rolled back, pretending a calm pose. “They tied you as if you were about to escape at any given chance.”

“How observant you are,” you said, voice filled with the same sarcasm. “… sir.” Until then, it didn’t fall the total realization that the person in front of you held the destiny of your life in his hands. Better to be polite, then. Your grandma never told you a lot of things about the forest’s guardian, only that the woods cherished him as much as he loved the woods.

He was looking at the wine bottle, shaking the bottle slightly while reading the adhesive label. “Sir? You think being polite it’s going to make the forest change its mind?”

Yes. Because that was how the woods worked, like a deity. They were too old and powerful to deal with humans—mortals entertained them, the village was like a gigantic theater, and they were right in the front rows.

But you didn’t want to be cocky.

“I’m your offering, so do whatever you want with me. But let my village alone. This is between the two of—the three of us, not them.” Well, you were being cockier now, than answering with a simple yes. If you’d been untied, your arms would be crossed in your chest. It was a good thing you had to be still for the ropes not to burn your skin, but you were sure he could hear your frenetic heartbeat, even when you tried to disguise it by seeing his mask up close once again.

The wood it was made of looked like red cedar, wood grains over every centimeter of the polished surface that shone with different hues of wine and crimson with the moving light in the arm suspended in the air. You thought that if you hover your finger over the mask, it would feel like your grandma's vanity—softwood for the use, almost warm. A pulsating heart inside a tree.

“For being my offering, you’re quite bossy.” You bit your lip. Better silence, then, Words weren’t humbling you today. Not even your better actuation of bravado was slipping as the temperature dropped inside the forest, darkness so thick it looked like ink.

You began to shake when the trunk become as cold as a rock, teeth clattering. He noticed, standing up. Looking up at his mask, you couldn’t stop from thinking, he’s inhumanely tall. And trees were taller. You were like an ant against a bastion and a gigantic wall.

“I-I don’t care. You’re p-probably going to let the f-forest eat me anyway. Or m-making me a tree. Maybe b-both.” Why it was so cold? Was it another punishment? Then do your plan of an offering failed? Your heart dropped, color draining from your face.

“Turn around,” he instructed, voice plain.

“Wh-what?” your words escaped with a cloud of fog out your mouth.

“I said turn around.” You did the best you could, legs crawling over the blanket that now was getting stuck under your thighs, and oh the ground was frozen. You heard him kneel, gentle fingers maneuvering the knot of the rope out your wrists. “You hurt your wrist with the rope.”

You hummed in response, too shocked to respond. After some minutes, you could extend your arms in front, hearing the bones in your hands crackling with the sudden movement of your fingers. “Th-thank you.”

He stood up, offering you a hand just like two days ago. Sheepishly, you took it. The leather did feel warm, strangely so against the freezing weather, but then again, he was the forest’s favorite.

"Which one do you prefer?" he said suddenly, hand still in yours. You blinked, clearly lost, which earned a sigh from him. "Do you want me to eat you or rather, make you a tree?”

Oh. Was he trying to scare you? Play with you? You looked at him, golden orbs inside a dark mask with unreadable gestures. “If I can choose, then I’d prefer to be a tree. So I could live peacefully here, knowing that you’re protecting me… just like you do to them, now.”

He didn’t answer right away. You slid away from his warmth and regretted it almost instantaneously.

Finally, he nodded, but his eyes were absorbed in something behind you, or maybe even another time. “I believe you could be a rather… curious sweetbriar.”

You chucked, dry lips expanding with a timid smile. “Then it’s settled.”

The man inclined to take the blanket off the ground and let it fall over your shoulders. “I’ll take you somewhere warm, yes? Can you walk?” You nodded, your right ankle tightly bandaged. The cold made it hurt more than it should, but the sole prospect of a warm sanctuary made the prospect of walking enticing enough.

Even now, your hut was freezing after the constant rain.

He hummed back. “Alright. Take the basket and give me your hand.”

You did, but not before commenting nonchalantly: “Someone does think this is a date.” He laughed, a brief airy sound that seemed to illuminate the clearing for a moment. Or perhaps you were succumbing to the deliriums of the fever you could feel growing on your hot cheeks and forehead.

You wobbled with each step, brushing his side every time, but near him at least you could feel a halo or warmth irradiating from the light of his third arm now lowered at your back’s level to see the irregular path ahead—it a path covered in moss so narrow even if the branches of the forest retreated when he passed near them. It was too constricted for two people walking side by side, and yet he didn't let you slide your hand out of his grasp.

The path opened harshly to a little canyon where a little river ran, stars reflecting in the running water like speckles of gold. Three rocks protruded from the current, big enough to put two feet in them.

He looked at your hurt ankle when you peeked over the current, the bottom of the river hidden like an unknown danger. “I’m going to carry you across, hold on tight.”

For the next few seconds, you notice he wasn’t asking. You held the basket with your folded arm, taking the staff he handed you before he slid one hand over your legs.

A forest spirit, that’s right. He was too strong to be human anyway but good for you, you thought with each stride he gave to cross over the rocks. You didn't want to be left stranded in the middle of the forest.

“Why is it too cold?” you asked, preferring to engage in a normal conversation than feeling awkward about him carrying you again.

“The forest is still outraged,” he sighed, resuming pace. “It’s going to be a cold summer.”

“But—”

“Yes, I’m aware you’re trying to make it better.” He looked at the trees for a moment, before tilting his head towards you. “Let’s hope the situation can be improved.”

This part of the forest was different. No thorny bushes or bare branches over the path. Instead, ripe fruit was hanging low from the trees, blooming flowers were everywhere, little fireflies flying from one plant to the other. Even the temperature seemed warmer. You knew why with every step your companion gave total knowledge of the path ahead. This was his part of the forest, the place where anybody else would venture—probably not even discover.

You saw a bunny stopping lazily a few meters from you, don't mind your presence. Over the lower bushes, a deer was peeking at you, dark eyes illuminated golden thanks to the guardian’s light.

The man tugged at your hand slightly for you to keep walking. “Ah, sorry,” you muttered, looking at the landscape instead of him.

"We're almost there," he commented, looking at your limp increase. But neither of you would remind the other that there was the option of him carrying you for the rest of the way.

It was very childish of you to think about the level of humanity the forest's guardian had. It was better to consider him like a mythical creature you could only hear in legends and bed stories. Only by chance, you encountered him, but this? This was unbelievable and yet, very obvious.

Of course, he also needed to have a little hut to live in, it wasn't like he lived in the trees as if he were an owl or underground like the moles. The hut—though house was a better term—was built with river rocks instead of woods, a pitched roof made of wood and covered in branches of pine and white poplar. Here, the wasn’t any sign of heavy rain, even if everything was buzzing with life.

The little windows were covered in blinds made of vegetal fibers made from reeds, the wooden door opened silently as he pushed it without the need for a knob. Inside, a fire illuminated a little living room with worn-out rugs and patched cushions. You could see a little table with one chair, and right after it, three closed doors.

“Sit near the fire,” he simply said and disappeared towards the closed doors. He chose the one in the middle, opening to reveal a dark inside before closing it behind his back.

You did, not because you wanted to obey, but because you were tired; putting the muddy blanket at the entrance and taking your muddy shoes off—even if the man didn’t, the place was clean enough to not want to get it covered in mud. The flames cracked with your movement, extending your legs and arms towards the hearth. Little by little, the fire warmed you outside in, eyes fluttering close as you lay in one of the rugs.

You fell asleep too quickly to hear his return into the living room. The man was carrying a pair of his clothes—though probably they wouldn’t fit you perfectly—a pillow, and two blankets. He stopped in the middle of the way, looking at your silhouette outlined by the dancing flames. Tiptoeing, armor off, he put the blankets over your body and the little pillow near your head, hoping that your clothes wouldn't cause you cold in case they were wet. He breathed slowly, afraid of waking you while recollecting firewood to stock the fire to last all night.

When he finished, he went outside taking a wooden bowl with him to recollect some fruits but left the door ajar in case you’d called him. Before he turned around, he could not peek briefly at the human figure laying on the rug, thinking that, perhaps, you indeed would be a lovely wild rose.

Gold light flooded inside the living room, the hearth dying quickly with the last firewood crackling in the ashy ground. Your back hurt for fall asleep in a strange position, head half-laid over a pillow, but the characteristic smell of boiling coffee made you crawl off the blankets that definitely weren’t there last night.

The man wasn’t in the kitchen—a little corner of the house, incorporated with a rusty sink and a tiny hearth with a metallic platform where the pan rested. The front door was closed, but the lateral entrance wasn’t, gentle cold breeze moved your hair as you inspected the pan half filled with oatmeal porridge, a bowl of sliced apple and berries next to it.

Was this for you?

You took one rag from the wood table and carry the coffee off the flames. Part of you wanted to cross the threshold, wandering in the garden that seemed filled with fruit trees and vegetables, but you weren’t sure about what would you do when encountering the forest’s guardian. Hoping he to disappear in plain daylight was rude. After all, you were still alive and a human, ignoring the odds.

A plate was waiting in the middle of the table, but you couldn’t find the courage to serve the oatmeal, sit in the chair and eat. You didn’t know if the man made it for you or for him—and he wasn’t in sight to ask him.

“Are you not hungry?” he said, emerging from the lateral door carrying a basket with eggs, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, and some potatoes. In his other hand, he was holding a gigantic pumpkin.

You blinked, thankful you weren’t grasping the dish because it would've slipped out of your hands.

“Mister forest’s guardian?” He wasn’t wearing the mask nor the armor, and you weren’t sure it was the same person—but the eyes were the same hue of gold as the ones shining in the woods at night.

“Good morning,” he answered, extending the basket for you to take. Signaling the pan with his chin, he furrowed: “Do you not like oatmeal?”

“Ah!” you could feel your cheeks hot, so you turned around to put the basket over the table so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes swept over his face. “I didn’t know it was for me.”

“Well of course it is, I already ate.” He crossed the kitchen, pumpkin in hand towards the sink. “It’s almost noon.”

You frowned; the house didn’t have any clocks. “Then, thank you. I’ll eat now.” He gestured for you to take a seat—the only seat at the table.

You served the rest of the oatmeal on your plate, sitting still in the chair while the forest spirit walked around the kitchen cleaning vegetables, thanks to a smart plumber system that worked by pumping water into a mill.

While he was cutting the vegetables into slices to put them inside a pot with boiling water to cook soup, you took your chance to see him as nonchalantly as you could pretend. He looked so human, you thought, emptying the bowl of apples and berries into your oatmeal. Except for some details, for example, his right hand, which was covered in a strange brownish-golden uneven surface, like the roots of the trees dipped in gold at the edges. His skin covered in dark green veins. And of course, the third arm that was still suspended over his shoulder, light off. It was built in the same material as his hand, between nerves, ropes, wires, or roots, you couldn't pinpoint.

Chewing slowly, you peeked at his face, a game of chiaroscuro reminiscent of the way the woods played with light and shadows between their leaves and the irregular ground. Sharp features, elegantly sculpted, you consider, like when your grandpa made wood sculpting during the lazy afternoons. Prominent cheekbones and defined jawline. That jawline you looked so close the other day.

“What are you looking at, hmm?” He was looking at you from the corner of his left eye.

You took a spoon filled with oatmeal right after, signaling the arm over his head. Not completely a lie.

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “When you’re done eating, wash the pumpkin and cut it. Do you know how to make pumpkin candy?” You nodded, and he hummed. “Well, you will be making it, then.” He began to cut those vegetables, rhythm tapping into the wooden counter, but he stopped midway. “I’m Viktor, not ‘Mister forest’s guardian’.”

“What?” you said incoherently, half-coughing, still not over the spoon of oatmeal.

“My name is Viktor,” he half turned to face you, one hand holding a half-cut potato. Arching an eyebrow, he waited until you nodded again, and then he resumed his activity.

Your spoon was making a lot of noise inside the ceramic dish, and you were sure of swallowing at least a quarter of the oatmeal whole.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Viktor,” you added when you put your dirty plan in the sink and began to wash it. Over the running water, you couldn't hear the falter in Viktor’s pace, and you were turned so you couldn’t see him looking at you with wide golden eyes, either.

The pumpkin was getting cooked over the hearth in the living room, the soup still boiling in the kitchen. The house smelled of aromatic herbs for the soup and the sweet caramel for the pumpkin, some bees wanting to slide inside. You were sitting in the middle of the living room, feet tucked inside a blanket while your shoes get soaked in sunlight at the entrance. The man gave you a ripe pear bigger than your hand to eat while the food was ready, the juice staining your fingers, stickier with every movement you made over the fruit to rotate it.

He was eating one, too. Sitting on another rug and pretending to ignore the necessity of addressing the most obvious conversation you two needed to talk about.

But the pears could only last so long before they were gone, leaving only their seeds and the cores.

You licked your lips while asking, nibbling at your bottom when he stopped to consider his words.

“I have a deal to offer, but you let me remind you the forest is still reticent.” He seemed to understand your inner confusion when looking at the bright outdoors. “Here’s sunny, but in your village, there are probably some clouds. If you step out the door, you can feel the wind is cold.”

“Then what’s the deal?”

His eyes lit up when he explained to you—it was like he was narrating a story. The forest cherished tradition, so the smartest move you could do was to stick to those customs that the forest seemed fond of. Paint the trees, holding offerings after every wind, a festival over the first rainfall. Little by little, he told you, the forest would crave more interaction with the town they looked develop since the beginning of the woods themselves. They would go back to the times the people sat over the trees’ shadows and tell stories when kids would present whole theatre presentations for them.

“Gave it time, so the fear could melt into mutual respect.”

He looked so happy only imagining those better times, eyes squinting in a silent smile.

“Where you there?” you interrupted, kicking your feet closer. “When the people told the forest stories?”

“No,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “I arrived when the forest was feared.”

Oh, was all you could say, not sure if you have to console him, or how. You stood up, the ambiance tinted with awkwardness from bringing back bad memories.

“Then… then I should go back to let them know.” The wooden floor was cold when you tiptoed towards the front door, not even thinking that you weren’t familiar with the way back, nor your ankle was ready to jump over those wet rocks.

"I haven't finished." He followed you, his body put between the front door and you. He was taller than you, but not as tall as he was wearing the armor. You blinked, hands fidgeting with the hem of your coat. “You have to make me company for a week each month, during the full moon."

“Me? Why?”

He shrugged. “I suppose the forest believed your words about being, and I quote, ‘an amazing companion’.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “Right, the forest,” you muttered, but he was already walking away too far from your sarcasm to be heard. The forest would crave more interaction, he said moments ago.

Maybe not only the forest.

“Wait there, I’m going to walk you to the clearing." He opened the middle door at the end of the cabin, gazing at you over his shoulder. “Because I don’t think you could jump the river section just yet.” Viktor stopped before the door closed totally, eyes directed towards the kitchen hearth, heat covering his cheeks. “Eh, would you, perhaps… like to stay for lunch?”

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

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You catch Silco's eye at The Last Drop, but he isn't the only one interested in you.

Silco x fem!reader x Sevika

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Clubs, predator/prey vibes, sex, interrupted sex, minor voyeurism, threesomes, anal fingering, double penetration, anal sex, sex toy use.

Masterlist

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You were on a bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies. You were trying to stay afloat in the wash of touches, your body stretching in ways it never had before. With the all-encompassing sensations, you were struggling to remember exactly how you had gotten to this point.

You hadn’t been drugged or anything. That much needed to be said, especially somewhere like The Last Drop. But no, the fuzziness of the evening had started from the first time you had caught the Shimmer-glowing eye of Silco himself, and you were drunk on everything that had happened since.

Catching Silco’s attention wasn’t something you had set out to do. Just the thought would have made you dizzy with nervousness and intimidation. Those weren’t emotions you had very often. Growing up in the deepest shadows cast by Piltover had left you with the distinct impression that there was no further you could sink.

And there were always predators in the deep.

When you had first noticed that mismatched gaze fixed on you, you had put on your best blank expression. Every Undercity resident worth their air knew that Silco wasn’t someone to fuck with. And if he had decided that he didn’t like the look of you, it would be better to leave The Last Drop before he had a chance to kick you out personally.

Admittedly, he would be more likely to send his second-in-command, Sevika, to get rid of you. That didn’t make it any more pleasant, though she was easily as attractive as he was - just with a different sort of danger.

In any case, you lost sight of him after that, though you couldn’t help but scan the crowds regularly for a sight of that glowing eye. Every time you didn’t see it, you relaxed a little more, though you couldn’t help recognizing that there was a part of yourself that rode a wave of disappointment.

Silco was known for being dangerous, but he was also undeniably handsome. That trim body and sharp fashion sense were paired with the keenest wit the Undercity had seen in decades, and he used it to his best advantage. Silco could take apart his enemies with a few well-placed words and a single command to his army of followers.

And he fucked.

Very few people could claim the distinction of having been with the Eye of Zaun, but everyone seemed to have a story about the time their friend’s older sibling’s cousin had spent a few glorious hours in the chem-baron’s company.

You would be willing to dismiss those stories as urban legends, a simple desire to make Silco’s power personal by having it exercised over you directly, but the stories all shared a few too many details. Firstly, they almost always started with someone catching Silco’s eye in The Last Drop.

Second, he was always very much in charge. It wasn’t something you would struggle to believe. If Silco was going to hook up with a stranger, it was only smart to make sure he was in control of the situation, if only to keep from being double-crossed.

Third, the person was never contacted again after their initial encounter with Silco. If they met him somewhere else, he was cool and indifferent toward them. It was clear that he was interested in short-term pleasure, not long-term commitment.

There were a few other factors that featured in most stories, but they weren’t entirely consistent and you didn’t count them. For instance, a lot of stories had Sevika involved, but not all of them. Some listed favorite positions or toys that were used, but those reports were so varied as to be pointless.

Overall, you considered the stories a fascinating look at how folklore supported shadowy figures in the Undercity. It was an interesting way to pass your time, even if it felt a bit voyeuristic. But you were simply interested in a major Undercity player, and found the pursuit of trends in stories a good indicator of that. You were watching solely as an academic exercise, not from any personal interest.

That was why you had regularly chosen to drink at the Drop for the past few months. The only reason.

Still, despite the stories - nay, Silco’s sexual exploits had reached the level of legend - you hadn’t expected to actually make eye contact with Silco himself. Even then, your tipsy-but-watchful demeanor hadn’t been enough to see him a second time.

Perhaps it had been a fluke. You weren’t stupid enough to think it had been anyone other than Silco, but you were also willing to concede that he probably observed the goings-on of The Last Drop. It wasn’t impossible that he had been watching the crowd at the same moment that you had been looking around. Still, there was something about the way his gaze had slowly slid away from yours that made you think he had been watching you for a while.

And you had to consider the tingling feeling of being watched, dancing invisible fingertips between your shoulder blades.

But you hadn’t seen Silco again. Not until you had gone to the bar. The bartender had slid you a drink before you had even ordered, directing you to a hallway that led from one side of the room. There, you found a staircase, and the door at the top had been unlocked…

When you opened the door and stepped into the darkened room beyond, Silco had been inside. You couldn’t claim to be completely surprised - who else would have a bedroom in The Last Drop?

You also weren’t stupid enough to believe that the room was actually where Silco slept. No, the bed was ridiculously big and the shelves against the walls held a variety of lascivious-looking toys. This was clearly where Silco hooked up with people from his club.

That, at least, ended up being correct. Silco had shared a drink with you, telling you bluntly that he was interested in fucking you that night. He asked if you were interested in that, too. Your immediate and resounding ‘yes’ was embarrassing, but he only gave a small smirk and told you to finish your drink while you discussed preferences and limits.

When that was settled, you found yourself on that giant mattress, flat on your back under him as he ravaged your mouth. He explored you thoroughly, taking control so casually and naturally that it only seemed to make sense.

And then he was inside of you, pushing himself deep as you arched your back and cried out for him. Your voice was loud in the room - too loud, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was thick and hot, and you could feel him throbbing. Or maybe you were the one throbbing, your inner muscles working around him as your body tried to decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out of you entirely.

Just as you were beginning to relax around and under him, a loud bang made you jump. You couldn’t see much from under the canopy of Silco’s body, but you managed to spy that the door was now open. More importantly, someone was standing inside.

“Scoop told me to come find you- Oh.”

The voice was low and rough, so much so that it took a moment for you to realize that it was female. And there was only one person you could think of who wouldn’t be apologizing profusely by this point: Sevika.

To your mingled surprise and embarrassment, Sevika stepped around the bed until she could see you more clearly past Silco’s shielding body. Her lips curved into a sardonic smirk as her dark eyes wandered over every bit of you visible in your current position.

“Nice going, boss,” Sevika congratulated lowly. “If you didn’t wreck that pretty pussy, I was gonna do it myself.”

Your breath caught at that, the muscles of your core fluttering at the unexpected filth.

Silco rolled his hips, pressing further into you and driving a gasp from your lungs. “Mmm, she liked that. And, as it happens, I’ve already started working on ruining her.”

“Everything I’ve seen so far seems pretty tame,” Sevika said with a scoff. “I think you’re losing your touch. Maybe you should let an expert take over.”

Silco bared his teeth, holding your hips tight against his to keep himself buried deep as he rolled. When you were on top, still laying with your chest pressed to his, Silco raised his eyebrows at Sevika. “I am the expert here. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should see for yourself.”

Sevika grinned, teeth flashing brightly in her smile. Her lightning-quick wink was the last thing you saw before she stepped out of view once more.

When you would have turned your head to keep her in view, Silco gripped your chin and held it steady to press a kiss to your lips. When he let you pull away, he murmured, “Pay attention. You’ll hurt my pride.”

The feeling of his chest rubbing against your stiffened nipples made your eagerness surge, but the sharp gasp was pulled from you by a different sensation: fingertips running upward along one side of your entrance, trailing around where Silco’s length had you spread wide around him. You couldn’t help a squirming shiver when that touch traveled up and between your cheeks.

“Sensitive little thing, isn’t she?” Sevika asked, a warm chuckle rumbling through her voice.

“If you could feel her the way I can, you would not need to ask.” Silco punctuated it with a pulse of his hips that made you gasp and cling to him.

Normally, this was not your kind of thing. You preferred to be an active partner in your sexual encounters, and the fact that most of the comments being tossed around were pointedly not directed toward you should have made you nervous. Probably would have in any other situation, if you were being honest.

But you felt exposed like this, knowing someone was watching. Someone who had plainly stated that she was also interested in your body. That, combined with the knowledge of how dangerous both of them were, kept you calm as they spoke around you rather than including you in the conversation. You felt as if you were slowly turning into a pile of flesh and nerves, able to do nothing but limply receive the pleasure you were offered.

Somehow, it was working for you.

“But you have yet to tell me,” Silco continued, giving another lazy thrust that made you squirm down onto him more firmly. “How does she look?”

“Needy. Hot. Desperate. Sexy,” Sevika said with a hum. Her attention was still between your legs as she scattered adjectives through the conversation. She played idly with you and - if you were to guess from his low growl - with Silco as well. Her fingers pulled you wider, as if testing how far your folds would spread. “The only way she’ll look better is dripping with cum, too fucked-out to move.”

You were listening intently to her, but a sound in the room made it hard to focus. It was only when they both chuckled that you realized the sound was a whine, coming from between your own parted lips.

“I can think of something else that may be better still,” Silco mused. His voice sounded teasing, but he didn’t continue. The silence felt heavy, weighed down with expectation and more than a hint of anticipation.

Silco’s hand smoothed over your temple, making you twitch with surprise. You glanced up to find him watching you. “What do you think, pet? Shall we invite Sevika to join us?”

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t want to risk trying and failing to speak, so you settled for a fervent nod. Silco’s lips curled as he glanced behind you. There was a knowing light glowing in his mismatched eyes, but they were aimed at Sevika, not you.

“Where do you want me?” Even Sevika’s low voice and brusque tone couldn’t disguise her interest. There was a stab of satisfaction in your gut - you may have been needy, but she wasn't as unaffected as she wanted to seem.

"Hmm…" Silco drawled, tracing circles on your skin that made you shiver. "If we truly want to ruin her, there would seem to be an obvious choice."

His touch lifted your chin once more, pulling your touch-drunk gaze toward his. With that orange eye burning deep into your mind and soul, Silco asked, "Shall Sevika and I share you? Take you at the same time?"

You nodded again, but Silco stared harder. "And has your lovely rear ever taken anything before?"

Feeling inexplicably disappointed in yourself and your past sexual partners, you slowly shook your head.

"And would you like to try?"

Your eyes snapped back to Silco's face, core throbbing. "Yes, I would."

Silco's lips curled into a pleased and slightly predatory smile.

Behind you, Sevika barked a laugh. "She can still speak." The chill of metal fingers against the side of your face made your eyes flutter closed. "We'll fix that."

"Get harnessed," Silco ordered, and Sevika's artificial touch disappeared from you. "Use the smallest toy. I want her ruined, not destroyed."

Even as your body gave a throb, clearly of the opinion that it wouldn't mind either way, Sevika said, "I’ll get ready. You keep doing what you were doing."

Silco took her at her word. He started slow, guiding your hips up and down on his length. When you had found the right combination of movements on your part and the right amount of Silco thrusting into you from below, your pace naturally built back to where it had been before.

The sound of your panting breaths filled the room, pairing chaotically with the sounds of sex. You had almost forgotten about Sevika entirely in the sprint toward your impending orgasm. But Silco stopped you with a steady press of fingers against your hips, his attention moving to something behind you. When he gave an approving smile, you glanced back as well.

Sevika was standing behind you, baring more skin than you could remember seeing her display. Her muscular arms were on full show, leading up to broad, strong shoulders. She was wearing a black breastband, but it could hardly contain the rounded swells of her breasts and your mouth watered at the idea of seeing them without any cover at all. Her abdomen was taut, a hint of muscle definition casting shadows on the flat expanse of her stomach. There was a suggestion of a rounded lower belly that made you itch to touch Sevika’s dusky skin, but that bit of softness was covered by a pair of black, form-fitting boxers.

When your eyes finally fell between Sevika’s legs, you could see that the boxers doubled as a harness. The toy held in place by the boxers was also black, and you struggled to pick out its edges against the darkness of the background. Sevika helped you - perhaps inadvertently - as she worked the short shaft, coating it with shining lube.

You watched her fist the toy, laying a thick coat of slippery gel over the surface. Your mouth was dry, but you did your best to pretend that you weren’t utterly entranced by the sight.

Silco gave a rumbling laugh, and it buzzed pleasantly through you. “Like what you see, pet? Do you think you can take her?”

Sevika smirked at you, hand spreading open between the toy and the boxers so you could see it more clearly. It was… smaller than expected.

“That’s it?” you asked, cringing at yourself a moment later.

Sevika laughed out loud. “For your first time? It’s plenty, trust me. Anything bigger and we really would destroy you.”

You smiled back, but Silco was already moving on. “Sevika is going to prepare you. I want your eyes on me.”

When you turned back to face the man beneath you, Silco nodded slowly. “One moment.”

Silco’s hands were firm around your hips. He used the leverage of them to spear himself as far into you as he could get, pressing deep and deeper until there wasn’t a fraction of space between your pelvis and his. Your mouth had fallen open somewhere along the line as you dealt with the flood of sensations, but he wasn’t done.

His palms slid up either side of your spine, pulling you forward until you were lying flat against him again, your breasts crushed to his chest and his length shifting oddly inside of you. You weren’t sure what look you were wearing when you stared down at him from inches away, but the pupil of Silco’s green eye was blown wide and you thought you would drown in the darkness of it.

Sevika’s touch made you jump just a bit, but it was enough to pull you free of the trap in Silco’s gaze. She must have been touching you with her metal arm, since her hand was cool and firm against you. She found the place where your spine met your ass, the spot where the sway of your spine rose past your tailbone and into the swell of your hips.

When her hand was on that anchoring spot, Sevika pressed down. It wasn’t painful, even with the unyielding metal of her replacement arm. However, it did lock you in place against Silco, holding you steady even when you tried to squirm at the feeling of him inside of you.

The feeling of warm, slippery fingers came a moment later - hardly a surprise, even as a gasp fought to escape you. That touch traveled closer and closer to the center of your ass, working its way toward that secret place hidden between your lower cheeks.

She quickly found your rear entrance and pressed a finger against it. You made an inhuman sound at the firm touch even as you fought to wiggle your hips closer. When her hand on you and Silco’s anchoring grip made that impossible, you settled for arching your back to give her better access.

Sevika laughed, and the sound warmed your face. “Responsive. I like her already.”

“Just wait,” Silco told her lazily. “She’s the best I’ve had in some time. Not overly chatty, either.”

“Just the way you like ‘em,” Sevika remarked. Her fingers playing against the small of your back made you shudder - or perhaps that was the way her other hand was poised and ready to breach you. When Sevika spoke again, her voice was closer to you, as if she had leaned in. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some sounds outta you either way.”

Somehow, you managed a halfway sexy laugh. "Promises, promises."

A firm slap to your ass took your breath away. It was a good spank, but it also forced you further into Silco's cock and ground your clit against his pelvis.

"Sevika," Silco's voice lashed lowly through the room. "Enough teasing."

As if to prove his own point, Silco used his grip on your hips to pull you up off of him and slam you back down. The suddenness of it made it all the more intense, and you started riding him without any further prompting.

"We'll start you off slowly," Silco said, offering a nod past you.

A cool drop of liquid landed just above the crack of your ass, sliding slowly downward. The first drop was followed by another and another, until the slippery gel had started working its way down to your heated core.

Searching fingers slipped between your cheeks and you tensed reflexively. Sevika's voice was low and close as she said, "Relax."

That wasn't going to happen any time soon, not with her touching what she was getting ready to, but you made an effort anyway. The tension drained slowly from your muscles, and you were so focused that you hadn't noticed the way Silco had stopped moving again.

His hands traveled upward to splay across your back once more, holding you steady as one of Sevika's fingers found your rear entrance and began to press against it.

Your vision seemed to dim. Not from the sensation itself - though that was certainly a source of interest - but because you were concentrating so hard on the way it felt that you weren’t fully using your eyes anymore. Beyond a vague recognition that Silco was watching you closely, all of your focus was on something you couldn’t see.

With the lube that was coating you, Sevika’s finger provided almost no friction. If not for the press of her knuckles against the softness of your cheeks, you would hardly know what she was doing. Her finger was equally slick (you suspected it had been coated with a fresh sheen of lubrication), but far more noticeable with the way it pressed against you.

Your entrance braced against the intrusion, fighting to keep it out. As the pressure increased against you, you drew tighter and tighter. Silco made a surprised noise at the way your inner muscles squeezed around him. It was quiet, but just enough to distract you. You relaxed as you glanced at Silco, and that was all it took for Sevika’s finger to breach you.

Naturally, you tensed. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Not uncomfortable, but different in a way that stole your focus. That ring of muscle seemed to stretch impossibly wide around the invader, and that feeling only grew as more and more of her finger sank into you.

“You’re a fool not to take her ass yourself,” Sevika informed Silco. “She’s gonna be perfect.”

“Perhaps I consider the privilege a reward for your excellent work,” Silco countered. “Besides, she is strangling my cock now. I think this will prove pleasurable for both of us. And even more so for our lovely guest.”

Sevika hummed in agreement, the fingers of her free hand dancing over the small of your back. “If she can walk after this, we haven’t done enough.”

With a twisting motion, Sevika curled her finger all the way into you, stopping only when her knuckles were pressing against the cheeks of your ass. The noise you made was short and sharp, an audible expression of your pleasure.

“Are her eyes crossing yet?” Sevika asked.

Silco caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, carefully turning your face from side to side. “I do not believe so, but we have plenty of time. Sevika will keep her finger in you, pet, while we resume our activities. I want you used to taking something in two places at once before we start in earnest.”

It wasn’t a question - no part of it had been, but you nodded anyway. Silco grabbed your hips again, guiding you in a new rhythm. He stayed deep inside of you, his tip never quite leaving your core even as he thrust. You picked up the pattern and started to follow it eagerly. There was a different dimension to the pleasure with something in your ass.

Sevika followed your movements with her hand, keeping her finger buried in you. It spurred you on, adding spice to every thrust as you adjusted to being stretched in two places.

A warmth at your back warned that Sevika was leaning in again. “Let’s take him apart.”

Your movements stuttered when her finger started to move inside of you, but she didn’t start to fuck you with it. Instead, she curled the digit, timing each curl perfectly to catch Silco’s tip at every thrust.

Silco’s brows furrowed, a harsh curse leaving him. He picked up speed when yours faltered, holding the rhythm even when you were completely distracted by the feeling of Sevika pressing against the thin wall that separated her from Silco.

At last - and long after your brain had melted entirely - Silco seemed to have had enough. With his chipped teeth bared, he hissed, “Sevika. Take her.”

The abrupt feeling of Sevika’s finger sliding from you made you gasp. She and Silco both chuckled, though Silco’s voice sounded a little strained.

“Ready?” Sevika asked, ducking forward so you could see her without straining your neck. Her eyes seemed even darker, excitement sharpening her features. You could only nod in silent agreement.

Her hands pressed you forward against Silco’s chest once more. You felt them travel down slowly, teasing where you and the chem baron were joined. Her touch dipped briefly lower and Silco cursed again. “Focus, Sevika.”

As if enticing her to do exactly that, Silco grabbed as much of your ass as he could possibly hold, spreading your cheeks wide as your face went hot. Sevika’s hastily stifled groan eased your embarrassment, but your breathing had picked up and you were fighting not to push back toward her.

A metal hand against the base of your spine drew your attention from your own eagerness for a moment. “Keep relaxed for me,” Sevika urged.

It was an impossible thing to ask, but you did your best as she placed the tip of her toy against your ass. You felt your eyes widen as she started to push into you.

You had seen the toy. It was small, almost laughably so. But now, it felt immense against your rear entrance. As it started to spear into you, it seemed to stretch you impossibly wide. The intrusion burned slightly, even with the generous amounts of lube that coated both you and the toy, and you would have shifted away from it if Silco weren’t holding you so tightly.

Your mouth opened, ready to call things off and walk away, but there was a slight popping sensation that made you jolt. “Head’s in.”

Sevika’s explanation answered your unasked question, but you couldn’t acknowledge her verbally. The steady slide of the toy into you was smooth and inevitable, your body letting it in with minimal struggle.

The firm press of her boxer-clad hips against your ass made you jump again, but Sevika’s hands smoothed down your sides. “Doin’ good for me, pretty girl. We’re gonna stay like this for a minute.”

You nodded, agreeing to yet another thing that hadn’t truly been a question. Slowly, Silco urged you to sit upright on him. You winced at the feeling of being stretched in two places, but it wasn’t painful. Silco wasn’t a small man and it was always odd to move this way with someone inside of you. Sevika’s toy was small, but it was odd and different enough to make you double-check every sensation to see whether it was good or bad.

Sevika started things, gently massaging your breasts from behind. Her touch was gentle but insistent, bringing your body back to eagerness. Silco joined in soon afterward, focusing his attention between your legs. His nimble fingers teased your folds around where he was speared and further back, but most of his attention was fixed on your clit.

Your lips parted as your breathing picked up. Silco and Sevika’s motions synced up, and Sevika’s fingers rolled your nipple just as Silco gave your clit a firm rub. You moaned aloud, head tipping forward in time to see a smirk spread over Silco’s face.

“It sounds as if our pet is ready to be fucked,” he remarked conversationally to Sevika. “Shall we?”

“Hmm…” Sevika hedged, rolling her hips against your ass as she thought. The motion knocked you off-balance, pushing you forward along Silco’s cock and spearing you back onto both of them when you corrected your position. You let out a plaintive sound. “How can I resist when she sounds like that?”

“Are you ready?” Silco asked, grabbing your chin once more.

That grip kept you from nodding. With your three functional brain cells, you managed, “Yes. Please.”

“Please,” Sevika repeated, amused. “You don’t have to beg. Yet.”

And then they started to move. The first few thrusts were disjoined, leaving you tossed back and forth between them like a toy boat in a storm. But they found a devastating rhythm soon enough. Silco pumped in and out of you, using his length to best advantage. Sevika had less of a shaft to work with, but she focused her energy on giving a little swivel of her hips with every stroke. The combination was lethal.

It seemed that you had just started when your body tightened. Tension was screaming through every muscle, warning that you were only moments away from utterly imploding.

“I- I’m–” you stammered, someone taking the words from your lips before you could get any further than a single word into your warning.

“We know,” Silco said, smugness written across his face.

“Surprised you made it this long,” Sevika agreed.

You decided that the best revenge would be to come. Your body wasn’t waiting for permission from your brain, but the timing was great - no sooner had you made your decision than every muscle in your body locked down.

Colors burst behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm you’d ever had roared through you. You had always imagined going through a hex-gate would be like that: an all-encompassing experience that robbed you of every sense until you were through. Of course, if the hex-gates felt anywhere near as amazing as it did to come on Silco and Sevika’s cocks, you would understand the exorbitant prices for passage.

If not for Silco’s hands on your hips and Sevika’s arms around your torso, you would have stopped moving entirely, other than to collapse forward. Somehow, they kept you upright, even when they edged you toward overstimulation.

Silco let out a low, wordless growl as he fucked up into you hard for a thrust, then two. When he was buried as far into you as he could possibly get, he came. The condom he wore kept you from feeling its heat, but his staccato pounding pushed you into a strong aftershock.

He was almost pretty like that, you reflected, watching Silco writhe beneath you. Fierce, of course, and always imposing, but somehow pretty. Maybe it was the way his eyes flashed, or how his face narrowed even more with the intensity of his pleasure. Or maybe it was the way his jaw dropped, a helpless sound of pleasure leaving him even as his brow crinkled with irritation at his own vulnerability.

Eventually, Silco lay slack on the bed, watching you and Sevika as his cock slowly softened inside of you. You were still pushed forward and back on him, moving slightly with Sevika’s thrusts. It felt inappropriate somehow, having your ass fucked while you were watched by the man you had started the night with. But Silco seemed unbothered, tracing lazy circles against your hips as he held you still to receive Sevika’s thrusts.

You could come again this way, you decided idly. Anal was a slower build to orgasm than you were used to, but it was certainly more powerful when it got there.

“Close yet?” Silco asked eventually. It could have sounded impatient or jealous, but his tone was nothing more than curious.

“Close,” Sevika confirmed. “It’s a smaller hilt than I would have wanted.”

“Did you choose the one that vibrates?”

You couldn’t see Sevika’s expression, but there was something close to glee in her voice as she said, “Forgot about that, but yeah.”

“Allow me,” Silco offered valiantly. He reached to grab something from a nearby table, and then you were too busy writhing to worry about what he was holding.

Sevika’s toy buzzed violently in your ass, and you were choking on air at the unexpected sensation. You could only squirm with the surprise of it, but when you had regained some control of your muscles, your instincts hijacked your brain. The only thing you could do was lean forward onto hands you had planted against Silco’s chest, pulling away and thrusting yourself back onto Sevika’s toy as quickly as you could manage.

Between your sudden eagerness and Sevika’s continued thrusting, the toy pulled free of and punched back in far more often than it had up to that point. A small, almost silent part of you recognized that the ache would be fierce the next day, but that concern was overwhelmed by the vast majority of you that insisted this was necessary. You needed to come again. If you didn’t, you would die.

At last, Sevika gave a sharp, staccato cry and buried her face in your neck. The flexing of her hips buried the toy as far inside of you as it could get. The buzzing brought you to a small but powerful second orgasm. You reveled in every second of it, even as Silco turned off the toy’s vibrations and soreness immediately set in.

Sevika pulled out of you, and the resulting motion of your hips allowed Silco to slide free as well. You collapsed on the surface of the bed, your fall cushioned by blankets and the arms of the two strangers you’d had sex with.

They started a low conversation above you as you throbbed and basked in the afterglow. Either they were speaking too quietly for you to hear or your brain wasn’t quite capable of processing speech yet. Either way, you were largely left to your own thoughts.

You hadn’t watched Sevika come. That was the only part of the experience you regretted. Silco was beautiful when he came, and you were willing to bet that Sevika had been the same. Unfortunately, she had been behind you and there were no mirrors that you could see. You felt cheated, almost, robbed of the chance to see a strong, stunning woman brought to her knees with pleasure from your body.

But you couldn’t truly complain. The rest of the night had been incredible. Silco truly deserved to have so many people talking about his talents in the bedroom. If he had orchestrated the whole scenario - and you strongly suspected that he had - he was both a master manipulator and someone with a keen need for pleasure.

Yes, if you were only going to get one chance at this, you were satisfied in how things had played out. And you had been with both Silco and Sevika! Two of the most dangerous people in the Undercity had let you share their bed, and they had cared enough about your pleasure to be sure that you came twice.

Now, you had your own story to share… but you didn’t think you would. This felt like something to keep quiet and close, to treasure for the rest of your life. And, of course, to get off to when you were feeling particularly lonely or needy.

“Is she wrecked enough for your tastes?”

Silco’s quiet question was the first thing you had understood in quite some time, and you realized with a start that he was talking about you.

“Mmhmm,” Sevika hummed, sounding wickedly satisfied. “Look at her.”

Since they were sitting at the right angle to be staring at your sensitive core, you didn’t bother to keep your eyes open. You were tempted to be shy, but sleep was calling louder and louder. They had made a mess of you, after all. They could look at that mess if they liked.

“I would like to try her mouth next time,” Silco added, almost absently.

Sevika let out a short laugh. “Works for me. I wanna bury my tongue in that pussy until she’s sobbing.”

“We’ll have to do this again soon,” Silco agreed.

You could hardly believe your ears, but even your excitement couldn’t keep you awake. You faded into soft and filthy dreams, the words ‘next time’ echoing in your ears as you went.

---

Author's Note - The reader character does and says a lot less than I'm used to writing, so my apologies for that. Honestly, this was fueled by scraps of a weird dream after I had too much wine one night. My excuse is that it was a very overwhelming dream for an ace-spectrum writer, so I just got it all down on paper as soon as I could!

Thanks for reading!

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