Chapter Text
This night could not be going any worse.
You, Dustin, and Ran stand in the ruins of the water tower, freshly disturbed dust still settling within the eerie silence. All three of you remain completely frozen, eyes locked onto the back of your greatest fear.
Once Vi and the Piltover scum made their escape, Silco had taken a seat on a fallen beam and has remained there for minutes now. His inaction in this moment terrified you more than anything else. Silco, your boss for more than a year, is someone you’ve grown to admire, look up to for his wit and leadership – but seeing him like this rattles you. Even Dustin, the absolute buffoon he is, knows better than to make a sound.
Silco suddenly rises, and so does the hair on the back of your neck. Then, he rears back his arms and releases a raw, horrific scream. Your jaw drops as you watch him, his leg rising to stomp down on a bottle that shatters with ease. He sharply turns and begins his march back to the three of you. You shared panicked glances with Ran and Dustin, who are both as baffled as you. It seems that this is new territory for them, too. The thought of running crosses your mind, but the consequences if you were caught would likely be worse than whatever Silco was about to do to you. So, you try to cement your wavering stance as he approaches.
The rare common sense Dustin demonstrated is quickly discarded once he takes a step towards Silco. “B-Boss,” he stammers, “w-we’ll get her next time, I s-”
His voice distorts into a garbled cry as Silco grips him by the throat, long fingers completing a tight circle, and drags him closer. “You’re fucking worthless,” he yells with such rage that you can see a stream of spit smear across Dustin’s cheek. Silco’s fist rises and pounds into the struggling man’s forehead once, then twice, and you can’t peel your eyes away from the sight. The sound of Silco’s swearing and panting creeps inside of you through your ears, drowning out Dustin’s wails as you soak in the horror of his assaulter’s fury.
Silco throws Dustin to the ground, hard enough that he himself stumbles back and nearly topples over. Another bloodcurdling scream you never dreamt Silco would be capable of escapes his mouth. “God fucking dammit!”
His eyes dart over your face, stabbing you straight in the chest with fear. Yet, in his moment of frenzy, Silco barely seems to register you. Instead, he focuses his attention on a sudden noise – a moan of pain coming from beneath a piece of debris. He wastes no time in his swift stride over to the writhing body. When he presses his hand against the wall and raises his foot above the pained face of some poor soul, you nearly find it within you to scream “Stop!”
But you don’t. You stand there and watch as his heel stomps into an open mouth, cutting the person off mid-shriek. He repeats – you can hear the crack echo around the vast space. Again, and again, and again, crack crack cracks surrounding you, swarming within your brain, fighting with Silco’s haggard growling for control over your morbid voyeurism. What starts as a dent in the skull caves in until blood is spurting up onto Silco’s boots and pants, until there’s nothing left for him to mutilate but a flattened and disfigured idea of what once was a human face.
After what feels like hours, Silco is finished. One last kick to the mush beneath his feet, then he turns away from the decapitated body and runs a hand through his hair. As he regains his composure, his eyes search the surroundings and flicker onto you. This time, they stay locked with your gaze. He takes a step towards you, and whatever strange trance you were in breaks apart. Not entirely, though, as your unsteady stagger backwards does not land. You keel pathetically to your knees, too embarrassed to raise your head as you stare at the dirt.
His heels make small thuds on the ground, until his bloodied boots are right under your face. There’s only a second for you to stare – a grip on your hair, then a sharp jerk upwards forces you to meet Silco’s gaze as he drags your knees off the ground. You whine loudly, mouth dumbly hanging open while you blink away tears and try to make out Silco’s face.
Silco’s eyes bore into you like he’s seeing something beneath your flesh. The intense scrutiny of his red iris has stripped you down, laid bare for him to dissect. Yet, the hardened wrinkles of his scowl slowly lessen as he takes note of your tongue nearly lolling out of your mouth, the way your cheeks are tinted red, your utter lack of struggling as he holds you up solely by your hair. You sniffle and pant, but make no move to defy him.
His brows furrow briefly, before he suddenly releases his grip on your hair and lets you drop back down. The painful impact on your knees is nothing compared to how aggressively your heart is beating. Your entire body is shaking, fifty different sensations and emotions curling around your insides. Still, you instinctively look up to Silco – but he’s already turned his back and begun to saunter away.
“Clean up.” Then he’s gone.
--
You and Ran (who had wisely decided to hide in the shadows of the wreckage to avoid Silco’s wrath) helped get the beaten and bruised Dustin to his home. You were lost in your thoughts the entire time, struggling to process what you just witnessed. Even more so, struggling to process how what you just witnessed was making you feel.
Once Ran ensured you safely made your way home, you lock the door and rest your back against it. Certain scenes keep replaying in your head against your will. You grind the heels of your palms into your eyes and groan, back sliding down the door until you’ve hit the floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you mutter. Now that you’re alone, there’s no hiding from yourself. No hiding from the wetness you’ve accumulated in your panties and the empty sensation deep in your stomach that yearns to be filled. No hiding from your utter depravity.
You came to terms with the fact that you have a crush on your boss a while ago. Sure, your attraction to him is questionable and concerning, but not entirely deranged. This, though – this is fucking psychopathic. You are the first person to have ever gotten aroused by the sight of a crazed man stomping someone to death.
As you carried Dustin to his home, eyeing his wounds and hearing his whimpers, you just kept thinking I wish it was me Silco was hitting. To switch places with Dustin, having Silco’s hand wrapped around your throat as he screams such horrible things right in your face – another pulsation of pleasure radiates from your sopping cunt.
One shaking hand begins its descent down your body, creeping past the waistline of your pants. You’re disgusted with yourself. There has to be something intrinsically flawed with how you’re hardwired… but when Silco yanked you up by your hair, every nerve in your body burnt hotter than ever before. Replaying the look of pure hatred on Silco’s face drives you to frantically circle your clit with your fingers.
It takes mere moments for you to cum, so hard that you can’t hold back how you moan “Silco!” into the empty air.
You sit there for a while afterwards. Staring blankly at the black night sky out your window as you try to build up the courage to face yourself in the mirror.
“Fuck.”