#Long Stub End

[rifo1011]

Pipe Fitting Long Stub End Manufacturer in India

Petromet Flange INC is an emerging Pipe Fitting Long Stub End Manufacturer in India. A long stub end is a pipe fitting used in piping systems that has a flanged or butt-welded connection at one end and a plain end at the other. 

The flanged end is bolted or welded to another flange or fitting, while the plain end is butt-welded to a pipe or another stub end. 

These fittings are extensively used for simple alignment and disassembly in sectors such as petrochemical, chemical, oil and gas, and power generation. 

Pipe Fitting Long Stub End Manufacturers make it available in a variety of materials, including carbon steel, stainless steel, and alloy steel, and are intended to meet certain flange specifications. 

For More Details On The Company Visit:

Website: Petromet Flange INC

We Also Are Flange Manufacturers and 45 Degree Elbow Manufacturer in India and 45 Degree Elbow Manufacturer in Pune

[iguessitsjustme]

I have regrets

[deus-ex-mona]

why can’t this week just end alreadyyyyyyy

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO but also the tags DUDE

Reverse Robin au but the ages aren't changed. Just adoption order.

[jusque-ici-tout-va]

.

[yuujispinkhair]

College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna Dyes His Hair

You were just teasing him.

"Pink like a petite little rose."

"Shut it."

They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.

"Pink like a sweet strawberry."

"Strawberries are red."

Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.

"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.

"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes. 

Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.

Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.

He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.

It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.

After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression. 

You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.

"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.

"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.

You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?

“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks. 

It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then. 

You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.

"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.

"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?" 

[wileys-russo]

sleepless nights II a.putellas

sleepless nights II a.putellas

your eyes fluttered open as a sudden chill whipped through the bedroom, curtain waving madly with the howling wind which had just set in through the window which was cracked open, the low angry growl of thunder in the distance indicating a storm was almost upon you.

squinting tiredly in the dark you saw from the alarm clock on your bedside table it was just past three in the morning, the blaring green numbers a little blurry as you wiped at the sleep which had crusted over in the corner of your eyes.

reaching out groggily for your girlfriend you hoped to bury yourself in her embrace and steal her body warmth, though you frowned feeling only cold empty sheets beside you, signalling wherever the blonde had gone she'd been gone for awhile.

With a heave you pulled yourself into a sitting position, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as goosebumps began to form on your bare legs at the temperature change.

it was rare for barcelona to be so cool this time of year but the weather had been all over the place lately, and there had been storms forecast all week long and now it seemed for once they had finally predicted correctly as the grumble of thunder grew ever closer.

swinging yourself out of bed you shuffled over to the open window, forcing it closed with a grunt and a small bang as the curtains fell deathly still once again, a small sigh of relief sounding as the room was quiet again.

you could have sworn either yourself or alexia had closed the window once your movie finished, the two of you curled up in bed watching as the couch just wasn't as comfortable and disallowed you from sprawling out on top of your girlfriend like you so adored to.

though when the movie finished and alexia had long fallen soundly asleep beneath you it was well after midnight, and so the chances of you simply turning off the television and passing out with the window still open was not unlikely.

burying your chin within the collar of your girlfriends hoodie drowning your body you made your way over to the bedroom door, letting out a yelp of pain when you stubbed your toe on the corner of the wooden storage trunk which sat at the end of the bed.

"maldita caja estúpida!" you cursed, hopping up and down and grimacing, wishing away the pain which was throbbing through your left foot. the brief pause allowing your eyes to adjust a little more to the dark you exhaled with a huff and grabbed the door handle, gently pulling it open with a small creak.

the hallway light was off though you could see a gentle blue hue radiating out from the closed door which connected to the living room, a frown creasing into your eyebrows at the sight.

your girlfriend being the superstar footballer she was, was obviously quite a busy woman and didn't technically live with you just yet, though there was no doubt she spent much more time here than at her own apartment.

you'd discussed moving in officially, but agreeing you both owned far too much stuff between you you'd taken inspiration from your girlfriends best friend and really alexia's apartment now existed as a huge storage locker, with her spending most nights a week in your bed with you.

it was really only training, meetings, international breaks or away matches in which alexia was called away from the domestic bubble of bliss she existed in within the four walls of your apartment.

as far as you were both concerned, it may as well have been much her home as it was yours, because after all really, to alexia you were her home.

the two of you had met a few years ago, and started officially dating almost two years ago after months of dancing around your true feelings for one another, with your anniversary set to be next month.

in among struggling your way through a journalism degree at university you worked nights at a small tapas restaurant on the outskirts of barcelona.

it hardly covered your bills between tuition and rent, and meant you still had to spend countless hours of your weekends tutoring to make ends meet. but you'd worked there nearly four years now and had grown rather attached to the place and all the people who came with it, it was like a little family.

the girls of the barcelona womens team were far from a stranger to the residents of barcelona, many were yet to forget the way she'd lead both club and country to countless trophies and victories over the years.

in turn one maria león and her family and friends were frequented visitors to the small tapas bar, its obscure location and mostly repeat elderly clientele making it an ideal place for the defender to blend in, well as much as she could.

you weren't stupid you knew exactly who she was, and her girlfriend ingrid, though you never held it against them and made sure to treat them the same as you would any other customer, feeling quite sorry for them when ever so occasionally their meal would be interrupted with someone wanting a photo or a moment of their time.

you grew accustomed to the couples presence as they had with yours and everyone else who worked there, until one day they didn't come with family.

instead you were jolted from your daydreams as maria burst in followed by at least ten other boisterous girls, most of which you recognized to be her teammates.

you were quick to make your way over to take their order as you caught ingrids eye and she gave a soft smile and a small nod, starting at one end of the table and gradually making your way down.

"the usual for you two?" you spoke as you arrived before ingrid and maria, recounting what you knew they always ordered, first looking to maria with a smile who nodded her head with an appreciative wink, then fell to ingrid who smiled, shaking her head slightly at how predictable they had seemingly become.

"-and I don't know your order because I haven't seen you here before." your eyes fell to the brunette sat on maria's other side with a friendly smile, the girl averting her own gaze to the menu in front of her.

of course even if you didn't know her order, you knew who she was, you'd have to live under a rock now to know who she was, but you were determined to treat them all with the same respect and sense of humility that had drawn the couple to suggest the bar for the team night out in the first place.

"this is alexia, el capitána." maria grinned as alexia gave her a look and bumped her shoulder into hers as you smiled, rocking back and forth on your heels awaiting her order.

when finally she did order you quickly ran through the whole docket with the table to make sure you didn't miss anything. "eh and some bread? for the table." alexia spoke up quietly but kindly as you send the girl a warm smile with a nod, scribbling it down on your notepad.

"gracias guapa." the brunette returned your smile as you tried not to let your cheeks heat up at the compliment, maria digging her elbow into her friends side with a cheeky grin when you weren't looking as the older girl gave her a fierce glare and shoved her away.

"i-uh lo siento." alexia apologised quickly as you assured it was more than fine, though still maybe a little flustered your pen slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor as you wiped your hand on your pants, small beads of sweat having formed on your palms.

what was happening to you?

mumbling an apology you bent down to pick it up, though as you reached for it a hand had already settled beneath your own.

a small spark seemed to shoot up your arm at the contact and as you glanced up you were met with a pair of bright hazel eyes staring right back at you.

at the time weren't sure why, but your stomach flipped at the sight.

alexia was quick to withdraw her hand as you stood to your feet, slender fingers offering you the pen and a small smile.

"gracias." you forced out as you took it from her grasp, ingrid and mapi watching on amused at the awkward interaction unfolding before them, nobody else paying you any attention.

"food will be done soon." you rambled out flashing a shy smile in her direction, your cheeks flushed red with colour as you turned on heel and hurried off back to the kitchen, heart pounding in your chest as alexia watched you go.

and from then, the rest was a story you still loved to tease the blushy catalan about.

you jumped slightly as a crack of lightning hit the sky and the hallway lit up around you like a christmas tree before plunging back into darkness.

a loud roar of thunder let you know the storm had now arrived, and you heard the awaited noise of raindrops sloshing against the window panes.

the torrential downpour having begun you pulled open the door stepping out into the living room, the sound of the storm somewhat drowned out by the noise of the tv.

you instantly noticed your girlfriend curled up on the corner of the couch, her head turning quickly toward you having heard the door open.

"hola cari." you greeted with a soft smile, arriving before her. you knew the older girl well enough to know something was bothering her without even needing to ask, the nights spent watching old barcelona games a coping mechanism of sorts for her when she was battling with something.

"mi amor." the blonde greeted you returning your smile, and even after how much time had passed the terms of endearment which often fell from her lips never failed to make you go all warm and fuzzy.

"did I wake you?" alexia asked worriedly as you straddled her lap, knees resting either side of her hips, large strong her hands falling to your bare thighs.

"no amor, the storm did." you reassured her quickly, placing your hands on her cheeks and gently pecking her lips. "i promise." you spoke again, a little more firmly this time as she opened her mouth, no doubt to question again if she'd woken you.

her body vibrated beneath you with a small chuckle at how well you knew her. "estás bien?"  you asked curiously, head tilted slightly to the side as your eyes searched the midfielders eyes for signs of discomfort or sadness.

the older girl nodded wordlessly, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of your thumb as it ghosted tenderly over her bottom lip. "promise." alexia spoke before you could, her tone mocking your earlier words as her nose scrunched up with an amused smile.

"ha ha." you droned sarcastically with a roll of your eyes, hands moving from where they cupped her cheeks to wrap around her neck, arms settled comfortably on her shoulders as hers wrapped around your waist, pulling your body even closer into hers.

you knew better than to push her for answers on why she was really up, the stubborn blonde she would tell you when she was ready.

"you are thinking very loudly preciosa." alexia chuckled, pressing her forehead against yours, practically able to hear the cogs turning as you tried to think back to what might be bothering her.

"cannot be as loud as you snore querida." you teased lightly, watching her mouth form a small o of surprise and she pulled away. "oye tonta i do not snore!" she protested with a frown, crease in her eyebrows strengthening as her annoyance grew.

"you do snore. amor would i lie to you?" you grinned, the smile spreading wider across your face as the older girl huffed, exhaling a small puff of air from her flared nostrils.

"sí, mentiroso." alexia poked her fingers into your side eliciting a small squeal from you as you batted away her hands.

the smile not dropping from either of your faces you leant in and connected your lips to your girlfriends, her arms wrapping back around your waist before you pulled away.

"i love you." you whispered sincerely, pressing your forehead back to hers. "i love you." alexia echoed back, tilting her head up to sweetly kiss your nose making you grin and peck her lips a few more times.

"which game is this one?" you asked, turning your neck to glance at the tv behind you. "the 2011 champions league semi final first leg, barça and real madrid." alexia answered as you slid gently off of her, taking up the seat beside her instead and stretching your bare legs over her lap.

"go to bed cariño, you have been out working all day." alexia rasped with a smile, catching your eyes drooping slightly as she gently nudged your knee, eyes shining with concern which you waved off.

"no i am awake now, i have tomorrow off amor. you train in the morning, sí? " you questioned as the girl nodded her head, she had training and then nothing on for the next two days, and she intended to spend both with you.

"i was looking for this cari."  the girl tugged at the bottom of your hoodie, the over sized grey and now slightly faded material had the logo of your old university draped across the front, it had always been your favorite.

"ale i have had it on all afternoon since we showered, you did not notice?" you laughed with a curious raise of your eyebrows.

"mm no princesa i was a little busy thinking about what we did in the shower." alexia smiled suggestively, your cheeks flushing with warmth at the memory of her staring up at you from between your thighs, eyes glowing with lust.

"bueno, no puedes tenerlo." you remarked as you bit back a smile, wrapping your arms around yourself stubbornly. "amor you know i could get it off, sí?" the older girl smirked defiantly, and you rolled your eyes but couldn't argue she was stronger than you.

"alexia no por favor i only have a t-shirt on and i do not have pants, there is a whole room of clothes you can go get if you are cold!" you kicked her lightly as her smirk grew and she chuckled.

"bien. so go get pants and give me the hoodie!" alexia countered, just as stubborn as you if not more.

"no! i asked you before we went to bed to get me pants and you pretended to be sleeping." you huffed at the memory, your girlfriend was a terrible actress with her over dramatic breathing and inability not to smile when you called her out on it.

"no. i want this one!" your girlfriend frowned, poking your stomach as you squealed and kicked her. "tonta you have so many, go get one!" you shooed your hands at her and turned back toward the tv.

"but this one smells like you and is more comfortable." alexia's hands bunched around the soft grey material, pulling you into a sitting position, your legs still draped over her lap.

"ale!" you couldn't help but laugh as her nose tucked into your neck, gentle pleadings mumbled against your skin, hands sneaking up the inside of said hoodie, goosebumps prickling beneath her touch.

"bien, tú ganas! go get me one of yours and we can trade." you bargained with a groan, nodding over her shoulder to the bedroom, the closet overflowing with articles of clothing belonging to the both of you even if it had started off as yours.

"you do not need my hoodie cariño, i am here." alexia grinned as you scoffed, opening and closing your mouth trying to find the right words to continue arguing with her.

"do not bother amor, i always win." alexia whispered against your lips with a smirk, pressing hers against them and swallowing any protest you attempted.

"stop pouting bebita." alexia chuckled as you stood up with a huff, pulling the hoodie off of your body and glaring down at her, hauling the article of clothing at her face.

"sí maybe you should go back to bed, tan gruñón." alexia teased again as she pulled on your hoodie over her tank top, reaching out to quickly grab your hand as you scoffed turned to head toward the bedroom.

"ven aquí." the older girl laughed, pulling you to lay down between her legs as she stretched out down the length of the couch, pulling the blanket which was draped across the back of the couch on top of the two of you.

"mi niña gruñona." alexia teased quietly as you lazily swatted her, body relaxing in her hold as her now hoodie clad arms wrapped around you, bare legs intertwining with hers beneath the blankets as the two of you tuned into the game.

"alba hates storms, she would always wake me up when the thunder started." alexia spoke up quietly after awhile.

"when we were little, we would always make a big fort in her room and our papi...he somehow always knew, would come and lay with us." alexia confessed and your heart panged at the reveal of maybe the real reason she had gotten up.

"storms remind me of him." alexia added on as gently you reached out and slipped your hand into hers with a soft squeeze. "you miss him." you spoke quietly, knowing the last thing she would want to hear was some sort of grief advice or statement he was always with her, she hated pity, especially from you.

"sí, but i know he would be proud of alba and i." alexia smiled sadly as you brought your intertwined fingers closer, tenderly kissing her knuckles and then craning your head up a little to peck her lips before settling back down.

and that's how the two of you spent the next few hours, wrapped up in one another's embrace, limbs intertwined, swapping and recounting many stories of your childhoods, the downpour of rained drowned out by the roar of the crowd on the tv before you.

just another sleepless night.

[oppopotamus]

i have a toji brainrot rn.

dom!male!reader (younger than toji but still an adult) wanting to fck toji (dadbod toji yum) and toji doesn't believe that reader will be able to pleasure him.

toji gets wrecked (maybe some overstimulation and squirting as well teehee) and he gets smitten and addicted. 🤭

My next door neighbour is a hot dilf??

toji fushiguro x dom top male reader

srry this took so long I took a HUGEE break from writing

listened to Katy Perry while I wrote this which may or may not have affected my writing

Warning: NSFW, dilf toji, top reader, thigh spanking, toji passes out twice, toji cries, reader gets mean i guess??

Toji, your hot dilf neighbour, the guy who lives in the apartment next to yours, he's only across the hall.

You need this man, even if it's the last fucking thing you do.

You will not give up, you will persevere and fuck the living shit out of this total dilf.

You REFUSE to give up.

So that's why you were in front of his door, looking directly up at this dilf.

"Uh, hey!" You tried to sound confident but the sweat on your palms and your nervous smile gave it away that you were, in fact, not confident.

"Ya need sum'?" Toji's deep, rough voice sent shivers down your spine. His voice was so hot, you needed to hear him moan in that voice.

"Oh, uh, yeah..." 'Quick! Think of something!' You said in your mind.

"Uh, uh- Uhm... sugar!" 'Sugar? Fucking sugar? What kind of fucking response is sugar?!'

"Sugar." Toji repeated your word.

'Shit! He probably thinks I'm crazy!'

"You need to borrow some... sugar?" Toji raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at you.

"Uhm... yeah." You say, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your pants as you stand there very awkwardly in the front door.

"I think I have some left... come in." Toji says as he walks into his apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow.

You nod and laugh awkwardly, following in after him and into the kitchen.

You're literally shaking from nerves, you pinch yourself to steady yourself but instead you end up letting out an, "ow!"

Toji quickly turns around with a raised eyebrow, "you okay, kid?"

You shake yourself off and nod quickly, "yup! Just, uh, stubbed my toe!"

Toji raises an eyebrow at that, he doesn't know how you stubbed your toe considering you were standing in the middle of the kitchen, not next to anything.

He just turns around and grabs a mug to collect some sugar.

"And I'm not a kid, by the way... I'm in college, I'm an adult."

"Coulda' fooled me." Toji scoffs and grabs the bag of sugar before pouring some into a mug.

"I don't look like a kid! I'm, like, average height for someone my age! A kid isn't this tall!"

Toji just looks you up and down with a smirk and hands you the mug filled with sugar.

Your cheeks turn pink when Toji looks you up and down with that sexy smirk.

"Okay, so you may not be a kid, but you're definitely a virgin. You stutter and blush every time I look at ya."

You immediately stutter again, "I most certainly am not a virgin!"

"Please, you wouldn't even know how to please a guy like me." Toji scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, I'm not a virgin, second of all, I totally would know how to!"

"Really?" Toji takes a few steps towards you, his arms crossed over his chest, "Prove it then."

Prove it?! You say in your head.

"P-Prove it?" Your brain short-circuits at that, is this seriously happening?

"You heard me."

"Oh."

Not even a second later he's grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom, causing you to drop the mug of sugar onto the floor, but neither of you care about that right now.

"Prove it quickly, my son's gonna be home soon." Toji sits down on the edge of the bed, looking at you expectingly.

He has a son?! He really is a dilf!!

"A-Ah, alright then..."

You take a few hesitant steps towards Toji on the bed, you've never slept with a guy this hot before, you're usually so confident in bed but this guy makes you so nervous!

"U-Uhm, I'm gonna start now..." You say shakily as you reach a hand out and drag your index finger down from Toji's chin to collarbone, brushing over his Adam's apple which surprisingly makes him shiver.

"You're so hot." You desire starts to take control, clogging your mind and blocking out all the anxiety you previously felt.

"Thanks, kid." Toji says before letting out a quiet yelp as he's pushed down onto the bed, "That was quick-"

"Stop calling me 'kid'. It's annoying."

You glare at him before gently running your hands down Toji's torso, down to his hips, giving them a squeeze.

"M' not a kid... I know what I'm doing."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Toji scoffs.

"You'll believe it soon." You say as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his grey sweatpants and pull them down along with his boxers to just below his ass.

"You're already hard, really?" You tease with a smirk before reaching a hand out to give a single pump to his cock, making Toji grunt and grit his teeth when you pull your hand back.

You crouch down to drag his pants and boxers down to his ankles before pulling them off and spreading his legs apart so you can see his hole.

"You're so goddamn hot." You practically drool as you sit on your knees, your hands placed firmly on the insides of his thighs to spread his legs apart as you bring your head close to lick his hole.

When you see Toji's pleased reaction you keep going, licking and fingering him open until you deem him ready enough to take your cock.

You stand up again and unzip your jeans, pulling your pants and boxers down just enough to let your cock spring free.

"Jesus, you've actually got a big dick." Now it's Toji's turn to feel flustered when he sees your cock in all it's glory.

"You'll be even more impressed once it's actually inside you."

You smirk and grip the underside of Toji's left thigh, you push it back and use your other hand to grab your dick, slapping it against Toji's hole a few times, making the man squirm.

"You gonna put it in or wha' Ah!" Toji's eyes widen and he groans as you press the tip in.

"For an old guy you're hella tight..." You grunt and slowly push the rest of your length in. Once you're all the way in you give it a minute for Toji to adjust before you start slowly moving.

You thrust in and out slowly. brushing against his prostate each time you thrust back in.

Toji lets out a long string of moans and grunts as you move back and forth, in and out. "J-Jesus... y-you actually know what y-you're doing, h-huh?" Toji can't help but smile in ecstasy as you speed up your thrusts, "Hhholy shit-!"

Toji groans and grips the bed sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Haah, ffuck!" You moan and grab onto his hips tightly as you speed up, getting faster with each thrust.

"Oh, fuck!" Toji squeezes his eyes shut, a few tears falling down the side of his face from pure pleasure.

Toji can't believe how fast it happens, but he cums almost instantly, he blacks out for a moment until he comes back to his senses when he feels a hard smack on his thigh.

He yelps and opens his eyes, immediately moaning again once he sees you're still fucking him.

"Y-You're still g-going?"

You spank his thigh again, "I haven't even cum yet."

You groan and throw your head back, you're still gripping his hips tightly, he's sure to be bruised by now.

Toji feels as though this has gone on forever, when it's only been fifteen minutes since you started, but to him it's felt like an eternity with how many times he's came.

Toji cums again and again, he's crying at this point but he doesn't dare ask you to stop.

It's not for another twenty minutes later till you cum, Toji sees stars when it finally happens, he cums so hard he blacks out, falling limp on the bed.

You come back to your senses and immediately freak out, "Toji?!"

You look down at him worriedly, when you see that he's breathing you calm down, you have no idea what to do so you do what any normal person would do.

You pull your pants back up and walk out of the room, quietly shutting it behind you.

You walk to the front door and open it only to see a teenage boy who's about to open the door.

You immediately stop in your tracks and have no idea what to say, you just quietly step outside and past the kid, the kid eyeing you warily.

"Uhm... you Toji's kid?" You ask awkwardly.

"Yeah... I'm Megumi..." The kid, or Megumi, says, still glaring at you.

"Uhm, maybe don't go into your dad's room for a while..." Is all you say before you run away, back into your apartment.

"What a weirdo..." Megumi says out loud to himself before walking inside.

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1: Easy Revenge [Aphrodisiac] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Chuuya Nakahara x afab! Reader

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis : rivals to fuckers! you and chuuya are always butting heads, competing for mori’s right-hand spot. done with his games, you take matters into your own hands, slipping aphrodisiac into his favorite wine.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: mdni 18+ content, smut with plot, aphrodisiac use, rough sex, sweat sex, female anatomy mentioned, degrading, feral chuuya, creampie, missionary, fingering, list goes on and on ppft it's kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 3.5k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

you scrunch your nose, contemplating whether this is truly the right choice. with a sigh, you light another cigarette, but the pull of smoke does little to calm your nerves. frustrated, you shake your head—maybe it's too risky. yet the memory of his smug smirk as he belittled your ability—"useless against mine"—flares in your mind, igniting rage within you...fuck it!

that’s all it takes. the decision is made. with a grin curling your lips, you slip the drug into his glass, watching the liquid swirl as it dissolves. you don’t see him as an enemy, no—rivals, more like. rivals who have been vying for mori’s approval, constantly butting heads, showing off on missions, each of you out to prove who deserves to be the right-hand executive more.

the man in question has known you for nearly four years now. he knows your strengths, your sharp wit, and how you can hold your ground. but does he know how manipulative you can be? oh, not quite.

you press your lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your racing heart before stubbing out your cigarette. adjusting the fabric of your burgundy skirt, you feel the black coat draped over your shoulders, its weight heavier than usual. your fingers brush over the cool crystal of the two wine glasses, and you glance at the bottle sitting prominently on the table.

vosne-romanée aux reignots—a rare indulgence, most of your paycheck sacrificed for this exquisite temptation. But the price doesn’t matter now. the ginger is the target tonight, and the prize will be well worth it.

your heart pounds enthusiastically as you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind his office's door. the click of polished shoes reverberates through the quiet corridor. perfect timing.

you take the opportunity to move quickly, gracefully settling onto the nearby leather couch, the cool material sighing beneath you as you take off your coat and place it beside you.

tou hold your wine glass between your fingers, the stem balanced delicately, your burgundy nail polish gleaming against the deep crimson of the wine. it’s a picture of elegance, one you’ve carefully curated—every detail intentional, even the way you let the liquid swirl lazily in the glass.

the door swings open, and there he is—the infuriating ginger who keeps you up at night, constantly plotting ways to put an end to his ridiculous games.

his movements heavy laced with exhaustion as he strides in, eyes closed, head hanging forward huffing in frustration, he yanks off his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the couch beside you, the leather creaking under its weight. he’s still oblivious to your presence. it’s almost amusing, really. you take in the sight—his bolo tie loosened, his dress shirt slightly untucked, his usually collected demeanour crumbling at the edges from a long day.

it’s only when you clear your throat, the sound slicing through the silence, that his eyes shoot open, narrowing immediately as he notices you lounging in his space.

“what the fuck are ya doin' here?” he snarls. classic—his sharp gaze flicks to the wine in your hand, then to the second glass on the table.

you don’t budge. instead, you take your time, tsking softly, rolling your eyes with the kind of practised nonchalance that only gets under his skin more. “is that any way to talk to someone who just bought you an expensive-ass vosne-romanée aux reignots?”

you tilt your head, letting the scent of the wine blend with the faint aroma of leather from the couch, easing you for a bit.

“are ya fuckin' serious now?” he scoffs.

clearly, he hadn’t expected you—of all people—to buy him one of his favourite, expensive wines. his gaze flickers again between you and the glass, his mind no doubt racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of your intentions. what are you scheming? he doesn’t trust you. that much is obvious, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates what game you're playing this time.

you smirk, cutting off his spiralling thoughts as you rise gracefully from the couch. with a casual wave of your hand, your so-called "useless" telekinesis comes into play, and the glass of wine—now laced with the aphrodisiac—glides through the air, hovering just before you as it rests between your fingers.

"here," you purr, stepping toward him, the glass now offered in an outstretched hand. "I’ve been thinking... about putting an end to this never-ending cycle of torture between us."

chuuya’s gaze locks with yours, fatigue etched into his features, yet despite his weariness, there’s an undeniable allure, every ragged breath only amplifies his seductive charm.

"you win, nakahara," you continue, your voice luring him like a siren. "let me make it up to you for always getting on your nerves these past four years, yeah?"

ugh, how much he hates it when someone calls him by his last name... it feels like you’re doing it on purpose.

the ginger's eyes dart from the glass to your face, his lips curling into his usual suspicious smirk. he doesn't reach for the wine right away, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “tch, and what’s this sudden change of heart? you don’t fold that easy, especially not to me.”

“you really expect me to believe you just… gave up? that’s bullshit.”

“oh, chuuya... you know me better than that. but even rivals need to call a truce every now and then, right? a little peace offering.” You nudge the glass closer to him, the delicate scent of the wine swirling between you. “come on, take it. i’m just trying to be civil. is that really so hard to believe?”

“civil? from you?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly before finally reaching out to take the glass.

“alright, fine. but don’t think i’m lettin’ my guard down ‘round you.”

"not in the slightest," you reply with ease, watching as he brings the glass to his lips. his expression remains doubtful, but the rich scent of the expensive wine causes his taste buds to tingle and his mouth to water. You know him far too well—well enough to play your cards just right.

as he takes a slow sip, savouring the taste, a surge of triumph rises within you. it’s only a matter of minutes now before you can set the second part of your perfectly crafted revenge plan into motion.

he lets out a low, satisfied hum as the wine glides smoothly down his throat. He tilts the glass slightly, eyeing the dark liquid within, almost as if he’s trying to figure out what your angle is. but he can’t resist—his love for fine wine is too deeply ingrained, and this, of course, is one of his favourites. you can already see his guard starting to slip, just the slightest.

"not bad," he mutters, still watching you over the rim of his glass. "but i know you, and you don’t play nice for no reason. what’s really going on here?"

you flash him a coy smile, stepping a little closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool rim of your own glass. "maybe i’m just tired of these endless games, nakahara. maybe I’ve decided it’s time for a change. orrr maybe..." you pause, pressing your lips together, "...I just wanted to see if I could surprise you for once."

he scoffs but takes another sip, the warmth of the wine starting to flush his cheeks. unbeknownst to him, the aphrodisiac is already beginning its work, creeping through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of his suspicion. you can see it—the subtle shift in his body language, the way his shoulders loosen, his gaze softening ever so slightly, his now half-lidded eyes, the slight crease that forms between his brows as his body begins to betray him.

the countdown has begun.

"surprise me?" he says, setting the now-empty glass down on the table, a faint sheen of sweat forms at his temple, barely noticeable beneath the soft glow of the office's light.

"well, you’ve got my attention. now what?"

you take a slow breath, feigning innocence as you glance at him through your lashes. "now... we see just how much you can handle."

he narrows his eyes at you, confused, "what?" he rasps, his voice a little rougher than before. his breathing grows heavier, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls with each intake of air. sure, indeed, the drug is coursing through his veins now, the heat in his body building beyond what he can suppress.

he swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his hands twitching at his sides. you can see how his jaw clenches and relaxes in rapid succession, his mind trying to keep up with the unexpected sensations taking over. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable as he tugs at his collar, loosening it. “what the hell’d ya do?”

without waiting for an answer, he reaches up and starts unbuttoning his vest, tossing it aside with a huff, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow.

you can’t help but giggle. "wow, I thought these things took a little longer to kick in."

"you—ngh—" he starts, but his words catch in his throat as he takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself.

you watch with a growing thrill as the bulge in his pants becomes undeniably visible. a soft, wicked chuckle escapes you as you lift your leg, pressing it against the armrest of the chair, just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your laced black panties peeking out from beneath your burgundy skirt.

"aww, what’s the matter? can’t use that oh-so-useful ability when you’re too fucked out of your mind?" you tease, giggling at the ginger-haired man caught in your little trap.

“fuck… you…” he manages as he glares deadly in your eyes, face flushed, the heat spreading from his cheeks down to his chest, which is now exposed from the hastily loosened buttons of his dress shirt. his breathing is ragged, each intake of air a struggle as the drug's effects entwine with his rage.

you chuckle, tilting your head slightly as you eye him up and down. "pathetic."

before you can say another word, he snarls, and in an instant, his gloved hand shoots out, fingers locking into your hair with a firm grip earning a yelp from you. he yanks you forward, the sudden force pulling you off balance as you fumble right into his lap.

and only then that he smashes his lips against yours into a sloppy kiss, the lingering taste of wine on his tongue melds with the intoxicating heat that surges from your mouth, flooding your veins until it pools deep in your stomach, igniting the desire you’ve fought to suppress for years. spit mingles with the remnants of your pleasure, slicking your lips and trickling down your chin. he gasps into the kiss, pulling you even closer, leaving you no space to escape.

the heat radiating from his body is unbearable, seeping through your clothes as you sit straddled on his lap and you can feel his hard cock against you, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. his hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you at once.

you try to pull away, desperate for air, but he doesn't let up. he follows your retreat, lips chasing yours with a frantic hunger, completely lost in the desire overtaking him. his lips crash against yours again, “ch-chuuya, wa—mph” you try, but the second you say his name, his grip tightens against your hip, and he swallows your words with another kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, tasting every part of you like he can’t get enough.

one of his hands moved from your hips, working up your shirt, and before you even realize what he’s doing, he pulls, buttons snapping and scattering to the floor. You let out a low growl, annoyed that your favourite shirt is now ruined, but it’s clear—he’s far beyond caring about anything right now. “shut up,” he growls between kisses, “y' knew what you were doing when you started this.”

before you can respond, he yanks off his gloves with his teeth, half-lidded dark azure eyes clearly promising you of a night that you shall not forget. his hands grip your waist firmly, and without warning, he lifts you effortlessly and throws you onto the leather couch. the cool material hit the fevered heat of your skin once again, but the reprieve is short-lived as you watch him hastily unbuckle his belt, his pants falling to the floor and his boxers following suit.

the moment his cock springs free, your breath hitches—fuck, he’s thick. Insanely thick. the sight of it sends a jolt of desire straight through your dripping core, making your thighs instinctively press together. you’d thought about this before, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

it’s beautiful, flushed a deep shade of pink with veins running along the sides, pulsing with the need to feel your gummy walls tighten around it. the head glistens with precum, the sight alone making your mouth water. he’s long too, but it’s the sheer girth that has your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to take him.

“you nasty girl,” he taunts, his gaze never leaving yours. “you were just lookin’ for an excuse for me to fuck you?”

you don’t deny it—not even to yourself. the truth stings in your chest. part of this was revenge for what happened earlier today, but the other part? well... you wanted this. hell, you needed this.

you bite your lip, flashes of memory crossing your mind—the number of times you walked by his office late at night, hearing those soft, lewd moans slipping through the cracks of the door. the rhythmic slap of his hand working up and down his cock as he sat behind his desk, thinking no one could hear him. but you did. you heard it all. and you couldn’t stop yourself. your back pressed against his office door, fingers working frantically between your legs as you listened to him come undone, biting down on your lip to stifle your own moans as you cum to the sound of him alone.

you feel your cheeks heat with the realization. of course, he’s right. you’d been waiting for an excuse, and tonight, you finally got one.

“you wanted to see me like this, hmm?” his voice cuts through your thoughts as he strokes himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. his smirk widens as he watches the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs clench together, the way your breath quickens with each passing second. “enjoyin’ how desperate you’ve made me? ngh—don’t worry, you’re gonna get exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

he climbs onto the couch, towering above you with a lust glint in his eyes. his hands waste no time yanking your skirt up, the fabric bunching around your waist as he grabs the waistband of your panties and rips them off with a low hiss. the sudden contact makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you arch your back, pressing yourself against him. his breath catches when he sees how soaked you are.

“fuck…” he breathes, a low hum of amusement rumbling in his chest. he’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat glistening on his skin. his fingers graze your slit, feeling the wetness pooling there, and a wicked grin curls on his lips. “fuck, you’re soaking wet. look at you, maybe you're not as in control as you thought,” he growls chuckling, his ever so pale cheeks were flushing red by now, ginger locks sticking to the sides of his face.

you moan as two of his fingers slip inside you, your back arching against the couch as his slender digits stretch you. they sink deep, curling just enough to make you gasp, your cunt clenching around them as he moves with an agonizingly slow pace. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, every breath he takes coming out ragged, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"what's wrong, doll" he whispers against your lips, "can't handle it? you wanted to play this game, didn't you hmm?"

your mind is spinning. each touch, each thrust of his fingers drives you closer to the edge, and you can't help but curse yourself for underestimating him. you had thought you'd be the one in control, but now...

now, you're the one falling apart beneath him.

he pumps his fingers harder, your walls fluttering around them, and you let out another lewd moan, the wet sound filling the room and making his cock twitch with an urgent need for release “hah—fuck it, I need to feel you.”

the heat was too much for him to bear. driven by an insatiable hunger, he yanks his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips. he sucks them clean with a low, needy hum, eyes half-closed in pleasure. his cock, already glistening with precum.

obviously he isn’t in the mood for teasing tonight, fuck no. he wants to be inside you, to feel you right here and now.

he guides himself between your the soft plush of your thighs, his breath hitching as he aligns with your slick entrance. with a low feral groan, he pushes inside, feeling your tight walls envelop him completely. his body, consumed by the sheer amout of pleasure, drove him to thrust balls deep inside you, arms hooked under your legs as he lets out a high-pitched moan, "aah- FUCK!!"

“you..ahh fuck.. thought you could outsmart me?” he growls, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, his thrusts never faltering. "you shoulda known better than to pull that kinda shit on me."

his words only make you burn hotter, your body responding to him in ways you didn’t expect. you were supposed to have the upper hand tonight, but instead you're a moaning mess at this point, sweet whimpers spill from your lips, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s stretching you causing a slight sting that quickly gets replaced by a tingling pleasure shooting through your entire body. each powerful thrust has you screaming, your mind overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that floods through you with every forceful slam against your ass.

his breaths are trembling, gasps turning into whimpers as he struggles to keep control. his eyes roll back, revealing only the whites as the heat and ecstasy take over, "nghh— fuck yess-"

hot chills ripple through his body, his veins pulsing with the relentless heat of his desire. oh, he was far too gone. the way you make him feel so good? it's illegal. but how could you complain when he was making you feel so incredibly good, filling every inch of you?

threading your fingers through his ginger locks, you tug sharply, drawing a low growl from him. he brings his lips down against yours, then pulls back just long enough to groan, “fffuck, you feel heavenly.”

he quickens his pace thursting his hips into you at just the right angle hitting all the right spots that have you cursing some nonsense, he snakes his hand down between your soft thighs applying the perfect amount of pressure against your clit fingers working rapidly while driving you wild with each thrust. your moans become a continuous cry as your orgasm finally crashes over you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. your vision blurs, your entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

"chuu-ya!" you cry out, your back arching off the couch as your walls clench around his cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

chuuya groans, his rhythm faltering as your orgasm sends him spiralling toward his own release. with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you balls deep. his cock twitches as he spills deep inside you, filling you with his hot white ropes.

the wet slap of his cock that was thrusting hardly into your pussy became slower, sloppier as he pulls out.

for a moment, the world is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. the rivalry, the tension, the mind games—they’re all gone, replaced by the undeniable truth of what just happened.

after both of you come down from the high, you push yourself up, panting softly as you gather your scattered clothes from the floor.

you glance over at chuuya, only to notice he’s already hard again, his body still betraying the intense pleasure of moments before.

“UGH FUCK!!" he curses loudly, throwing his head back with annoyance written all over his face.

you let out a soft, amused giggle at the sight. it looks like he was only getting started. Maybe you accidentally doubled the dose... purely by mistake, of course.

kouyou chuckles as she leans back in her chair, glancing at the camera feed.

"kouyou-sama... it's been an hour since chuuya went in," the technician reports shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The ginger woman chuckles, covering her lips with the sleeve of her kimono, "well... either one of them is dead, or they’ve discovered that the desk isn’t just for paperwork anymore."

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetfruity @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro

[requiemforthepoets]

hey, are you still there? ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you know yourself that it’s sad that you settled on being a backburner, but you didn’t mind crisping up on lando’s backburner as long as he still think of you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, unrequited love(?), open ending, insecurities, reader being treated as a backburner, childhood best friends, christmas angst, luisa, typos, and few grammatical errors.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had always wanted to write this for so long, but i’m not sure how to pen it, but finally, here it is! so far, i’m satisfied. i don’t know much about luisa, but i’m sorry that luisa is kind of villainized in this 🥲 i’m sorry. this is like another christmas one shot, sooo haha i intentionally made it as an open ending bc i want to leave the ending to you, and let me apologize now bc this one shot won’t have a part 2. it just felt right for me to leave it as an open ending and leave the ending up to you. so i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The glow of the snowy afternoon sun filtered through your apartment windows, casting long, golden shadows across the floor as you sat cross-legged amidst a pile of forgotten keepsakes.

Your plan was simple, really. To declutter, toss out what no longer sparked happiness, and finally reclaim some much-needed space in your small New York apartment. But simplicity soon faded the moment you stumbled upon a memory box that was buried beneath old blankets in the closet. You hadn’t thought about it in years, the worn out wooden edges now slightly faded, but just holding the box again made you feel something deep in your chest.

Sliding the lid of the box open, the faint scent of nostalgia greeted you. There was a mixture of paper and dust that carried you back to another time, another place. Polaroid photographs, ticket stubs, concert tickets, and tiny trinkets spilled out as you began to sift through the box’s contents, fingers brushing against fragments of a life you had once shared with someone who knew you better than anyone. Then you saw it—the camcorder.

It sat nestled at the bottom of the box, its black casing slightly scuffed but still intact, as though it had been waiting for you all these years. The sight of it made your breath catch, fingers hesitant as they wrapped around the familiar shape. A small laugh escaped you, soft and bittersweet, as a wave of memories washed over you.

The camcorder had been a gift from your parents, given to you when you were just a teen. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the thought of having a camcorder. You were not exactly the type to obsess over gadgets or record everything, but your parents had insisted, saying something along the lines of making memories worth keeping.

You hadn’t even opened the box properly before you had told him about it. Lando had always had a thing for photography, an almost childlike fascination with capturing the world around him. Naturally, he had lit up at the mention of the camcorder. You remembered the way his face had brightened, how he had practically snatched it from your hands when he saw it, excitement radiating from him like it was Christmas morning.

“Trust me,” he said, voice brimming with certainty as he flipped the device open with ease. “This is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.”

And it was.

The camcorder had quickly become his, in everything but name. Lando had used it more than you ever had, his artistic streak shining through in the way he would capture the smallest, most mundane moments and make them feel extraordinary. But what stood out the most was his favorite subject. You.

Every time you hung out, or visited a new place, his focus would inevitably turn to you. At first, you had protested, laughing and batting the camcorder away, but over time, it became a rhythm of sorts. Lando, behind the lens, coaxing your laughter and teasing your smile, and you, rolling your eyes but secretly loving the way he saw you. Through the lens, even the quietest days seemed to feel alive.

You traced a finger along the camcorder’s edges, the faint outline of his fingerprints etched invisibly into its surface. Four years. It had been four years since you had left the UK—four years since you had left him. You told yourself that what you did was for the best, that you needed to grow, chase bigger dreams.

Part of it all was true, but the other part, the one which you didn’t say out loud, was the reason why your chest tightened even now. Was because Lando made you feel too much, and you were not sure you could bear it any longer.

You grabbed your laptop, briefly hesitated over the laptop’s keyboard before finally connecting the camcorder. The familiar chime of recognition echoed through the room as your laptop detected the device, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervous anticipation.

It had been years since you last thought about these videos, let alone watched them. As the files began to load, thumbnails filled the screen—tiny, burry windows into the past. You clicked on the first one, and the second is the screen lit up with a younger version of yourself, smiling awkwardly into the lens. Lando’s voice filled the room almost immediately.

“Come on, you can smile better than that!” he teased from behind the camera, chuckling.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. The video playing one after another, each one showed a snapshot of your lives back then. There were clips of you on spontaneous trips—forests, city streets, karting, and endless car rides with Lando singing loudly and off-key while you laughed at him.

There were also quieter moments—rainy afternoon when you were sat by your bedroom window, lost in thought, while he filmed you from across the room, calling it aesthetic. Lando captured everything, from the highs to the lows.

The memories felt vivid, almost too vivid, as if you could reach through the screen and relieve those moments. It was the year he had started his Formula 1 career, and the first time you saw him truly chasing his dreams with everything he had, and were beyond proud of him. At the same time, it was also the year you were filling out endless applications to universities in America, unsure of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do in life. It was like you were both standing on the edge of something new, something big, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It was also the year you finally admitted to yourself that what you felt for Lando was no longer just friendship. You had been so close for so long that the shift felt almost imperceptible at first—lingering glance here, flutter in your chest there. But you acknowledged it, there was no going back.

You found yourself looking at him differently, noticing the little things about him that had always been there but suddenly felt so significant. The way how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his curly hair, aquamarine eyes, the quiet focus he had when working on something he cared about, and most of all, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

But you kept it to yourself. You couldn’t tell Lando, not when he had told you so casually, like it was nothing that he liked someone.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same,” he had said, voice laced with uncertainty.

For a brief moment, a hope sparked in you. Maybe after all this time, Lando felt the same way about you. Maybe this was the moment that you had finally been waiting for.

But that hope shattered almost immediately when he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo. The girl’s name was Luisa, and she was stunning. She was everything that you were not—model, successful, gorgeous, has a radiant smile and a presence that seemed magnetic. Luisa was exactly Lando’s type, and you knew it.

The realization hit you harder than you had expected. You felt dumb and foolish, for even thinking one second that Lando could ever see you that way. You were not like Luisa, you were not the kind of girl who turned heads or made people stop in their tracks. You were just…you. Lando’s best friend. The person he could have a joke with, confide in, and lean on, but will never see you anything as more.

So you stayed quiet. Buried your feelings deep, gaslighting yourself that everything was better the way it is. The less you talk, the less you risked losing him. Maybe if you kept on pretending that everything was fine, you could learn to let him go.

A new clip began to play. You were seated on the edge of a bench, face scrunched in frustration as you ran a hand through your hair. The sound of Lando’s laughter crackled through the speakers, light and teasing, as he zoomed in on your expression from behind the camera.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

It was clear that from that clip that he was trying to cheer you up. It had been one of those moments when everything felt overwhelming. Your plans, future, and feelings. Yet, even in your frustration, Lando had managed to make you laugh. He always did. Watching it now, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how young and naïve you looked.

But the video carried more weight than just a frustration afternoon. That day, you had a front-row seat to another chapter in Lando’s pursuit of Luisa. It was the day he told you that he finally confessed his feeling to her, and you could still remember how his voice sounded. It was a mix of hope and vulnerability as he recounted every detail, but his excitement had quickly dimmed when Lando explained how his confession had met an uncertainty from Luisa, not really sure how she felt about Lando.

You remembered how that hurt him, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. It was one of the few times you had seen Lando genuinely shaken, his confidence chipped away by a single sentence. Still, it did not stop him, if anything, it only made him more determined to win her over.

This is exactly what Lando is—relentless, persistent, unwilling to let go of something he wanted.

Then there was you, caught in the orbit of it all. A pattern had started to form, one you did not want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore. Whenever Luisa turned her back on him, when his texts went unanswered, or her attention drifted elsewhere, Lando would always find his way to you. His calls would come late at night, voice low and tinged with sadness as he stumbled through excuses to keep you on the line, and you, despite knowing better, would always answer.

Those were the moments you chastised yourself for loving. When Lando was hurt, when he felt small and alone, he always came to you. You were the person he confided in, one he leaned on. It almost felt like you mattered to him in the way you wanted to. Even if you knew, deep down, that it was not that. That it was temporary, a band-aid for his bruised ego—you couldn’t help but savor the attention.

But then, inevitably, Luisa would give him the smallest bit of her time, and you would become invisible to him again. The calls would stop, texts would taper off, and Lando would be lost in the glow of her half-hearted affection. You would feel the ache of being left behind, sting of knowing you were nothing more than a safety net, a placeholder, a convenient fallback plan.

It was a never ending cycle you despised, one that made you look at yourself with pity as you played into it. But whether it was out of hope or some cruel sense of inevitability, you stayed. You let it happen. Time and time again, picking up the pieces when Lando fell apart, only to watch him hand them back to her the moment she glanced his way.

It was always like this. It had always been like this, and somehow, despite everything, you definitely hadn’t learned your lesson.

The video continued to play, the faint static of old footage mixing with Lando’s voice can be heard, his laughter like a distant echo from another life. As you watched yourself on the screen—smiling, frowning, existing in a world where everything felt so much simpler—memories came rushing back, faster and heavier than you had expected. They were not just simple memories of moments, they were reminders of how deeply you felt, how much your life revolved around Lando without you even realizing it.

Your feelings for him had always been the silent undercurrent of your friendship, unspoken but ever-present. You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that you would grow out of it, but you never did.

Instead, those feelings rooted themselves deeper, becoming a part of you. You wondered if the reason you hadn’t moved on was not because you could not, but because you hadn’t really tried at all. Maybe you were afraid, maybe life felt easier when you let it stay messy, undefined—when you clung to the hope that Lando might see you differently someday.

But the reality of it all was far less romantic. You had become his backburner, a place he turned to only when he had nowhere else to go, and the most pathetic part? You didn’t even mind. You let yourself burn quietly on his backburner, knowing full well you would never be the main thing in his life.

No matter how many times you say to yourself that it was okay, that you could handle it, deep down it ate you. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted, there hadn’t been for years. It was always him, it will always be Lando—his laugh, his voice, his stupid smile that made you forget the pain he caused by just being himself. You hated it, and yet you couldn’t even let it go.

Your memory reeled in to that one particular night, a night etched into your memory like a scar. Lando had called you on facetime, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His eyes were red, voice trembling with raw emotions as he told you what happened with Luisa.

She had hurt him again, made him feel small in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. Lando looked so broken, so unlike himself, that it made your heart twist in ways that you did not want to admit.

And yet, you couldn’t help but tease him. You told him how he looked ugly when he cried, masking your own hurt with humor. But inside, there was a flicker of something else—something cruel and selfish. You felt happy that he thought of you in that moment, that you were the person he called when everything else in his life fell apart. It was sick and twisted, and you couldn’t have hated yourself more for it, but it was the truth.

At the same time, you felt conflicted, torn between two versions of yourself. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you by treating you like an afterthought. But the other part of you, the part that still believed in him, in the friendship you had shared since you were kids—wanted to comfort him, to be there for him even if it meant breaking yourself in the process.

You always knew how it would go. In a week or so, Lando would be back on his feet, back in Luisa’s orbit, and you would fade into the background again. He would stop calling, texting, and you would be left alone again, waiting for the next time he needed you. You wished you could stop caring, that you could let him go and just move on, but you couldn’t. You cared too much, loved him too deeply, and it was destroying you.

You stayed. You stayed because even though it hurt, even though it made you feel small and invisible, there was still a part of you that believed in him. In the boy who had once held your camcorder, laughing as he filmed you spinning in circles in the park. In the friend who had always been there, even when it felt like the rest of the world wasn’t. You believed in him, even if it meant you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You checked the timestamp on the video and realized it was nearing the end. The final clips began to play, taking you back to a day you remembered so clearly—the beach trip. The screen filled with bright sunlight and sand, camera jerking slightly as Lando filmed you running along the shoreline, wearing one of his bucket hats and sunglasses, your laughter ringing out over the crashing waves.

You watched yourself as if through someone else’s eyes—carefree, alive, darting back and forth like a puppy with boundless energy. Lando’s voice came from behind the camera, teasing you for your antics, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the memory.

It was one of those days you had hoped would change everything. Lando wasn’t thinking about Luisa then. He was with you, laughing, joking, making you feel like maybe you mattered more to him than you let yourself believe. You had clung to that slight flicker of hope every time he drifted back into your orbit, telling yourself that the moments he spent with you would eventually outweigh the hold Luisa had over him. But you know then, deep down, you knew better. You had always known better.

The last clip began to play. The two of you were in one of his cars, the camera shakily capturing the scene as he handed it to you. Lando had insisted you try driving it, grinning with the kind of reckless confidence that was so quintessentially him. You know that he hated someone driving him, especially that it was his car, but he didn’t even hesitated when it came to you.

The video was cut to him standing outside, filming you through the windshield as you tried to maneuver his car into a parking spot, and it was a disaster. He zoomed in on your face, flushed and irritated, as you waved frantically at him to get back inside of his car and help you. Your lips moved as you shouted something at him, your expression twisted in mock anger, but it only made him laugh.

That sound, the sound of his laughter—echoed through the room as you watched yourself scowling at him, completely oblivious to how the moment would look years later.

When the video finally faded to black, you sat there in silence, staring at the black screen of your laptop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a sad smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The memories left a bittersweet feeling in their wake, filling your chest with an ache that never really went away.

You always knew the truth. You would always be in Lando’s corner, even when it felt like he had forgotten you existed. You would stay, waiting in the shadows, knowing full well you were his second choice, or maybe not even a choice at all. Yet, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care, you had settled on being Lando’s backburner long ago, content to exist where he had placed you, because even the smallest scraps of his attention felt like more than you deserved. You knew it would never be enough, but it was all you had.

When you left the UK, you had never properly said goodbye to Lando. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, leaving the place where you grew up and leaving the person that mattered to you the most.

The day you were about to board the plane to America was supposed to be the start of something new for you. But it also turned out to be the same day Lando and Luisa had finally gotten together. It didn’t make sense at first, you had been too wrapped up in your own plans to notice anything strange.

You were so focused on your own future, dreams, and adventure that lay ahead. But the moment you realized what had really happened, the gut-wrenching truth hit you all at once. Despite everything, despite all the years of friendship, despite the deep feelings you had kept buried, Lando had never said a word to you.

The first sign came two weeks before your departure, when you noticed he had not contacted you. Not once. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken, and then, one evening, it hit you. While youwere scrolling through instagram, lost in the sea of photos and videos, you saw it.

Lando and Luisa standing together in a sunlit paradise. They were everywhere—clinging to each other, smiling like they had always been this happy. Their arms wrapped around each other, looking like the couple everyone thought they were meant to be, living out the kind of romance you had always imagined for yourself—only, it was not with you.

It stung more that you could have imagined. It felt like a cruel grip and punch to the stomach—seeing them together, seeing him in a way you never thought you would. There they were, living life, having fun in Dubai, while you had been silently fading into the background, unable to say anything, unable to be anything more than just a shadow.

It suddenly made the decision easier for you. Maybe it was petty, or childish. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only way to protect yourself. You didn’t need to say goodbye, or talk to him again. You didn’t think that talking or saying goodbye to him would even change anything. You didn’t want to face the truth anymore—didn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be forgotten, be pushed aside while he moved on.

So, you did what you had to do. You packed up everything, every piece of your life that had been tangled with Lando’s, and left. You left without a word, without any explanation. The silence between you felt so final, so complete, as if you were never even meant to matter.

When you landed in America, you didn’t waste any second. You changed your number, blocked him on social media, deleted every trace of him from your phone, from your mind, from your life. It was easier that way, right? No more reminders of what you could never have. No more wondering if he still thought about you. It was better to start fresh, even if starting over meant leaving everything you knew behind. You never looked back, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You gently closed your laptop, the soft click of the screen snapping shut, and disconnected the camcorder. You wanted to throw it away, erase it from your life entirely, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the hope that one day, you could look at it without all the pain attached to it, or maybe it was the attachment to something that had once meant so much.

With a deep sigh, you placed it back in the memory box, careful not to let it settle to heavily among the other momentos you had packed away. You knew you wouldn’t be able to part with it—not yet at least. Instead, you pushed the box deeper into your storage room, where it would sit quietly for now, out of sight but never far from your mind.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the box as if it might somehow speak to you, but all it did was remain silent, like everything else in your life that you had tried to put behind you. The soft sound of snow falling outside caught your attention, and you moved toward the window, your gaze drawn to the soft flurry of while blanketing the streets below.

Christmas was approaching in just a week, and for a brief moment, you wished you could go home, back to your family, to the familiar comfort of the holiday season. But the thought quickly passed. Home felt too far now, and you had your own life to navigate, a life in New York that, for all its challenges, had become a place you had grown to love.

You turned away from the window and began to change, pulling on warm clothes fit for the snow outside. It wasn’t much, just a quick errand to stock up on groceries before it got too dark. You didn’t mind the task, it gave you a reason to get out, to take in the city and its wintry charm. The air was fresh and crisp as you made your way out of your apartment, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The world around you was calm as you stepped out into the quiet of the snowy streets, snowflakes falling gently around you, almost like a veil between you and the hustle of city life. New York felt different in the winter, quieter somehow, even as the holiday decorations began to shine brighter. Streetlights casting long shadows across the snow, and you admired the festive cheer that the city wore like a second skin. You had seen the Christmas tree lighting at the New Haven Green just last week, a tradition that always brought a sense of warmth despite the chill in the air.

Walking through the snow, you felt a small sense of contentment, something you had been searching for but hadn’t fully realized was within reach. The lights, crisp air—all of it made you feel like you had carved out a space of your own here. You hoped that it would stay that way, that the peace you had found wouldn’t be disturbed, even as the holiday season and all its chaos loomed on the horizon.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, but your thoughts drifted to other things—nothing too heavy, just the soft hum of city life. It had been a peaceful walk, but then, you froze.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of something, or rather someone, someone so familiar in the distance. Curly hair that you could picture in your sleep. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light, a resemblance that your mind conjured up after hours of rewatching old videos. You quickly dismissed the thought, trying to shake it off. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to pull the past back into your life. The person looked up, and everything in your world stopped. It was him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. The air around you seemed to thicken, sounds of the city dimming in the background as you took in the sight of him. Lando. In New York. Of all places he can be in right now, why was he here?

It had taken a long time to convince yourself, year after year, that you were fine, that you had moved on, that everything was better this way. Yet here he was, standing only a few meters away from you, the same familiar figure that had been a part of your life for so long.

You both stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other as people around passed you by. Neither of you moved, as if the moment held too much weight to let anything else happen. It was like time had bent around you, your mind racing, questions swirling, but none of them found their way to your lips. You couldn’t speak, you weren’t even sure you could breathe.

Lando stood there too, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that everything else feel irrelevant. You knew he hadn’t expected to see you. Not here, not like this. Yet, there he was—right in front of you, a ghost from your past made flesh, making the familiar ache in your chest resurface.

You had thought you were done with him, that you had moved on, but standing here, with him so close and yet so far, you realized that maybe you had not moved on as much as you thought.

The world around you seemed to hold its breath.

[vampiricvenus]

... And how long did you have to wait in order to receive medical assistance for it? How far did you have to go to get any sort of relief?

Fadel has had to wait months and campaign with very little results in order to get any hopes of MAYBE getting his pain from the shrapnel still stuck in his body that the doctors in Gaza couldn't safely remove. He can't sleep, he can barely move, and he's in never-ending pain on top of the trauma.

[Verified! #197 on this spreadsheet]

Fadel is a third-year student in Information Technology. Him and his family have been displaced 5 times already. Not long ago, he and his family were injured in an attack amongst the rubble that used to be their home. They were almost martyred.

Him and his family were transferred in extremely dangerous conditions to a hospital in southern Gaza after that. Once there, the doctors were able to remove some of the shrapnel from Fadel's body, but there' were still shrapnel stuck inside him that they could not remove. The surgery he needs is very complicated and cannot be performed there due to the lack of medical resources.

Now he lives in constant intense pain. He needs to leave Gaza as soon as possible. The cost for travel is €7,000, and then there's €3,000 for the treatment he needs.

We can do this!! Fadel's goal is a lot smaller than most other campaigns and his hasn't surpassed even the first thousand euros!

He's not even met 10% of his goal!!! Please, let's help him, the pain he's in is immense and he needs surgery outside of Gaza ASAP.

€660/€10,000

[hoffmansgirl]

❛ 𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘿 𝙈𝙀 & 𝙀𝙓𝙋𝙇𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙈𝙀. ⎯ nicholas a. chavez

₊˚⊹౨ৎ 𝓐'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: based on this request !! hope you enjoy! writing this was so much fun xx 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. smoking (weed) ‧ sexual tension ‧ oral (f!receiving) ‧ unprotected piv ‧ size difference ‧ best friends to lovers trope ‧ this one's soft & sweet tbh <3 𝘄𝗰. 4318

"𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦𝗧 fucking movie I've ever seen", you groaned, squinting your eyes before taking a puff of your shared joint. You heard Nicholas hum in agreement as he reached for the remote to shut the TV down. You let your head fall back against the couch, handing the joint to the man next to you blindly.

"Waste of time", Nick commented, deep groan of satisfaction leaving his throat at the burning sensation in his lungs. "But this... This is some real good shit". Your eyes snapped open at the remark, and you smirked, nodding. "Yeah. It is. Fuck". You let your body relax against the couch, before you heard Nicholas speak again.

"Let's...", You could hear the playful smirk on his lips while not even looking at him ⎯ at which you turned your head to watch him. "Let's play a game".

He threw his arm around the backrest of the couch nonchalantly, tilting his head, as if he was challenging you.

His hair was a mess, eyes glistening and slightly red from the joint. Nicholas' pearly smile seemed to light the whole room up, and you could see the outline of his muscles through the white, tight t-shirt he was wearing. He undeniably looked good ⎯ and if he wasn't your best friend, you'd say he looked like the most dreamy man ever.

"A game? What are we, twelve?", you huffed, rolling your eyes before stealing the joint from between his fingers. Nicholas sent you a glare, though his smirk never flattered, as he moved to take a sip of his Pepsi. "What kind of a game?".

"Truth or dare", he shrugged playfully, and you stubbed out the joint. You already began to roll a new one ⎯ you had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"But it's just us two", you remarked, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, stealing him a glance.

"And that is what makes it even more fun", Nicholas smirked, and you silently agreed. You huffed, lighting the joint and putting some music on in the background ⎯ a playlist you and Nicholas made of your favourite songs.

"Okay. Let's do this, then". You rested your back against the armrest of the couch, playing with the hem of your shorts mindlessly. Mischievous smirk made its way onto Nick's face as he got comfortable.

"So, Y/N... Truth or dare?", he sipped on his drink, looking up at you challengingly. "Truth".

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're no fun".

"Shut up. We're only getting started", you groaned, hitting him with a pillow ⎯ soft enough not to spill his drink. "Ask away".

He seemed to think for a second, and you blew the smoke from your mouth, getting more and more comfortable against the couch. You drummed your fingers against the backrest, watching your friend with hooded eyes.

"The worst date you've been on", he smirked, leaning down and taking the joint from between your fingers. You huffed, throwing your heavy head back.

"Alan took me to this party once", Nicholas groaned at the name of your ex boyfriend, at which you laughed softly. "He called it a date, but he ended up ignoring me the whole night, getting wasted with his friends. Then he threw up in my car", you winced at the memory, and Nicholas did, too ⎯ the disgust evident on his face, and he didn't even try to hide it.

"He was such a dickhead", Nick laughed, and you couldn't help but stare at his perfect lips while he did so. "Yeah, he was. Truth or dare?".

Nicholas seemed to think for a second, and he hesitatingly replied: "Truth".

"You are such a pussy", you laughed teasingly, deciding to take things a little further. "When was the last time you masturbated?".

Nicholas' eyes widened, and so did yours ⎯ boldness wasn't exactly one of your strongest qualities, but the hazy atmosphere in the room seemed to have awakened something in you.

The air thickened with tension, and you caught a glimpse of Nicholas' stupid smirk ⎯ his confidence never flattering, even though he seemed to hesitate for a second. "Yesterday".

You didn't expect him to answer ⎯ not so directly, at least. You couldn't help but let out a quiet gasp, covering it with yet another puff of your joint. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping Nicholas didn't notice how flustered you suddenly became.

"To what?", you couldn't help but ask, but Nicholas tutted, spreading his legs and resting his hand on his thigh nonchalantly. Your eyes lingered on the veins that popped up on his arms. You always noticed how attractive he was. God, how couldn't you? He was charming, funny, and really fucking hot ⎯ but he was also your best friend. Yet you couldn't help but stare ⎯ the way his hair fell on his forehead messily, dark eyes looking deep into your soul, lips twisted into a little smirk.

Your head suddenly felt very heavy; you grew more and more relaxed with each passing second, yet your newfound confidence only seemed to get stronger.

"Not so fast", Nicholas winked at you, tilting his head. "Your turn. Truth or dare?".

Before you could think it through, you were already replying. "Dare".

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to rest on your thighs ⎯ the shorts you were seemed to be ridiculously exposing now, every inch of your skin burning with something you couldn't quite name.

"Bold, aren't you?", Nicholas chuckled lowly; his low, teasing voice making your whole body shake. "Hmm. Exchange smoke with me".

You lifted your head from the couch ⎯ it wasn't unusual for the two of you to do it, so you felt pretty confident as you instantly moved closer towards Nick. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you suddenly felt breathless, as he twisted his body to sit perfectly across from you. You took the joint from between Nicholas' fingers, brushing over his hand in the process. Spark of electricity run through you ⎯ you could barely hear the music playing in the background anymore, Nick's smile consuming every part of your body. It was the first time you felt this type of tension lingering in the air ⎯ the one that made it hard to breathe, the smell of your best friend's cologne invading your senses.

You let out a shaky breath before lifting the joint to your lips, taking a deep puff, putting your other hand on Nicholas' cheek to get him closer. You were hypnotised by the look in his eyes; predatory, as if he was seeing right through you, hearing your thoughts.

Nicholas' lips opened, and you leaned down to blow the smoke into his mouth. Your lips brushed in the process, just slightly, but enough to make your heart race. Nicholas' left hand landed on your side, travelling up to brush over your back softly.

You pulled back and he inhaled, closing his eyes for a second before breathing the smoke out. His eyes were dazed, playful smirk playing on his lips; you traced his defined jaw with your pointer finger lightly, feeling his muscles clench under your touch.

You stubbed out whatever was left of the joint, squealing in surprise when you were pulled on Nicholas' lap in one, swift movement. He hid his face in your neck, both of his hands travelling up your body to rest on your hips. You should be surprised, pull him away and ask him what he was doing ⎯ yet, due to the buzzing in your head, how tired you suddenly became, all you could do was press your back against his chest and get comfortable.

"New perfume?", his voice came out low, raspy, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. You shifted on his lap, causing the bulge in his pants to press against your ass tightly. "I like it".

A part of you knew it was wrong ⎯ he was your best friend, you knew each other since forever ⎯ but his touch on your bare skin, the heat radiating off him; all of it was intoxicating, way too good to just let it go.

"Yeah. Cherry⎯ Cherry and almond", you whispered, and Nicholas hummed, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. "But it's your turn now. Truth or dare?".

"Dare", he didn't even hesitate, and you shifted again, earning a soft groan from him ⎯ you bit back a moan at the vibration of his voice against your sensitive skin. His soft, big hands travelled up your rib cage, stopping just below the hem of your top.

"Kiss me, Nicholas", you managed to get out, squeezing your eyes shut, your whole body on fire, and your friend froze behind you.

"I⎯ Are you sure?", he asked, and you rolled your eyes, twisting your body so that you could straddle his lap properly. "Only if you are".

You smiled fondly before pressing a soft, sweet kiss on Nicholas' lips. Your hands found their place on his broad shoulders; his muscles twitching under your touch.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship", he whispered softly, and you hummed, eyes half-closed as you lowered your head to brush your lips against the side of his neck teasingly. Nicholas gripped your hips, grounding you on top of him, his erection now brushing against your inner thighs.

"You drive me crazy", he mumbled, transfixed on the way your soft breath tickled his skin, his eyes threatening to close from the sensation. "Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?".

You couldn't help but laugh at the stupid question; Nicholas' chest vibrated against yours, sweet giggle leaving his mouth, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten just for a second.

"You're talking too much", you grinned, meeting his dark, chocolate eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Nicholas' demeanour switched as he took you in, and, unable to control himself anymore, he pulled you towards him in a soft kiss.

The feeling of his lips, soft, warm and delicate against yours ⎯ it was everything you never thought you needed. Everything you did was in sync, the prolonged, shaky breaths leaving your mouths, or the way your hands tightened on the other's skin ⎯ pulling each other closer as your lips brushed against each other in a slow dance.

Soon enough, you grounded yourself against the tent in his grey sweatpants, inaudibly begging for more. Nicholas' hands travelled down your back, testing the waters as his fingertips grazed over your ass teasingly. You grinded your hips down, causing him to moan; allowing your tongue to enter his mouth swiftly. There was no more softness in the way you moved anymore ⎯ you grew bolder, your tongue rolling over his' with passion, as you tugged on his soft hair playfully.

"I've always wanted to do this", Nicholas whispered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes ⎯ making sure you knew he was being honest. You smiled, breathing heavily, your heart swelling at the words.

"Only this?", you chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose softly. Your friend bit his lip at the words, his cheeks and neck slightly flushed, at which you smiled softly.

"No. Not only this. I just⎯ I never thought you'd want it, too", he admitted, his fingers tracing circles on your lower back.

"And what if I tell you...", you lowered your voice, brushing your lips against Nicholas' ear teasingly. "I want it just as much as you do? And I don't want you to hold back on me".

Nicholas' hands on your back tightened, and he seemed to hesitate for a second, before he caught your lips with his' again. His demeanour seemed to switch again, as he bit on your lower lip roughly, tugging on it with his teeth before soothing the pain with a bruising kiss. You squealed in surprise when suddenly you were lifted from the couch, Nicholas' hands on your thighs as he walked you both to your bedroom. You giggled into the kiss as he stumbled, causing you to tighten your legs around his hips.

The second you stepped into your bedroom, Nicholas' used his foot to shut the door behind you both, pressing you tightly against the cold surface.

His lips were back on yours in an instant, and he pressed his lower body tightly against yours.

You tugged on his shirt, inaudibly begging him to take it off, and he obeyed. Nicholas dropped you to the floor carefully ⎯ your knees were shaking terribly, and your breath hitched when he took his shirt off.

With all strength you had left, you pushed Nicholas to the bed, and he grinned, moving up until he was resting on your sheets comfortably. You straddled his lap again, licking your lips as you took him in.

It wasn't the first time you saw Nicholas' chest ⎯ he often took his shirt off when the two of you were together, but this time it was different. You run your hands down his abdomen, feeling the strong muscles under your fingertips. The urge to worship every part of him was too strong, now ⎯ you lowered your head, sucking on the soft skin of his collarbone, running your hot tongue over his soft skin. Nicholas' let out a shaky breath as you marked him, and he didn't protest when you left bruises everywhere you could reach.

"You're so hot, Nick", you mumbled, your hands travelling down his abs as you looked up at him, circling your tongue around his nipple teasingly. Nicholas' lips opened in a silent moan, his hands tugging on the sheets tightly. "A fucking work of art".

Your lips closed around the pink nub, and you grazed your teeth over it experimentally, watching as Nicholas' head fell back against the pillows, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You teased his sensitive nipples for a while, before moving down his body, brushing your lips against his hard stomach insatiably. A breathless moan left Nicholas, and his hand was in your hair, pulling you off him as you reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

You were on your back in a second, Nicholas' hands tugging on your shirt greedily. You obeyed, taking the excess material off your body, exposing your bare chest to him.

His eyes widened ⎯ he didn't expect you to not wear a bra; his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at your exposed chest. A small, shy smile appeared on your face as you watched the admiration filling Nicholas' features. "You're so beautiful, baby", he rasped, moving to kneel in between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs as he latched his mouth on your breasts greedily. He licked, bit and kissed your soft skin, and your back arched off the bed at the feeling. You could feel his hardness press against your clothed centre, and a breathless moan left both of you when Nicholas pressed his hips against yours tightly. You tugged on his hair, and he bit on your nipple softly, sucking the nub in between his teeth before pulling away with a pop.

He rutted his hips against yours experimentally, causing a loud, choked sound to leave your mouth.

"You sound so pretty", he groaned hungrily, pressing a wet, bruising kiss on your lips before pulling away.

His hot hands travelled down your chest, roaming over your stomach before lingering just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Are you...", he began, but you were already rolling your eyes before he could finish.

"Fuck, yes, I'm sure. Stop holding back. Please".

His eyes darkened, and you bit back a moan as he practically ripped the shorts off your body, along with your lacy, black thong. He cursed under his breath, before spreading your thighs wide, admiring the sight of your wet, exposed pussy. You clenched around nothing, his gaze so intense, so greedy, it almost had you closing your legs.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy", he groaned, laying down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs tightly. "Bet she tastes sweet, too".

With these words, he dived in, lapping at your cunt as if he hasn't ate in days. You let out a high-pitched moan, your hands finding place on his hair, tugging tightly with every stroke of his tongue. He sucked on your little clit, his eyes falling open to watch your face confront in pleasure. Groans left his mouth at the taste of your sweet juices coating his tongue, his hips rutting against the bed ⎯ his own need evident in every movement.

You cried out when you felt his tongue circling your sensitive nub tirelessly, your legs beginning to shake, signalling your orgasm was near.

"Nicholas, oh my God", you whined, throwing your head back, hips beginning to move in sync with his tongue. "I'm so close, baby⎯ Don't stop".

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending vibrations right through your core, and in an instant you were coming all over him, your juices creating a wet puddle under your ass.

"Tastes so good", he groaned, continuing his assault on your pussy even when you shook in overstimulation. Tears blurred your vision, but you had no energy to stop him, not when it felt so good.

He was being overly messy, swirling his tongue around your heat in a way that had you breathless ⎯ his groans vibrating against you, his eyes following your every reaction. He teased your entrance with his tongue, before dipping into it experimentally, smirking when your legs shook around his head.

"Nick, oh my God⎯ 's too much", you cried out, and he doubled his efforts, his arms pinning your legs to the bed, leaving you completely at his mercy.

"I love this sweet fucking pussy", he whined, licking a stripe up to your clit, before his mouth closed around it again. He sucked, hard, and you were seeing white, sweating all over your satin sheets, barely able to breathe, tears blurring your vision. "I can't wait to see you cum again".

Two of his thick, long fingers circled your entrance before he pushed them into you in one, swift movement. He sighed at the feeling of your tight walls gripping him like a vice, and he curled them upwards experimentally, having you see stars with a little to no effort.

You let out a shallow breath as Nicholas' lips moved up your body, his fingers plunging into you again and again. The pressure in your stomach was ready to snap any second now, and when he grabbed your neck tightly, staring down at you with hooded eyes, you swore you could cum from the sight alone.

"You're so filthy. I love it", he smirked, cutting your airflow with a squeeze of his hand. You grabbed his forearm tightly, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt his thumb press tight circles into your clit.

With a choked scream, you squirted all over his hand and your own sheets, and Nicholas pulled back to watch the transparent fluid escape your cunt with every withdraw of his fingers.

"Good fucking girl. Let it all out", he cooed softly, helping you ride out your orgasm. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and Nicholas removed his hand from your neck, allowing you to take deep breaths. "Holy shit, Nick", you managed to choke out, your legs shaky from the overwhelming pleasure.

Nicholas' gaze on you was hard, demanding, as he brought his drenched fingers to your mouth. "Suck".

You didn't hesitate for a second, opening your mouth and letting him press his fingers down against your tongue. You lapped on your own juices covering his long fingers, holding onto his forearm for dear life, moaning at the taste of yourself. Nicholas' other hand found place on your head, as he caressed your hair softly, almost lovingly, thrusting his fingers down your throat experimentally. You gagged, hollowing your cheeks while looking up at him, battling your lashes. Nicholas let out a strangled groan, pushing his fingers as far as they could go, watching you struggle. "I can't wait to see these pretty lips wrapped around my dick", he rasped, and you moaned when he finally freed your mouth.

With the little strength you had left, you pushed yourself up, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants greedily. Nicholas obeyed, too horny to ask you if you were sure ⎯ his pants and boxers were on the floor in an instant, and he was already kissing you with urgency that left you breathless.

You felt his dick press against your thigh, heavy, long and thick ⎯ and you started to worry about if he was going to fit at all.

Nicholas could almost feel your sudden uncertainty, as he pulled away, towering over your much smaller form ⎯ the size difference never really mattered that much, until now. You stared at his cock, wide eyed. His size made your mouth water, the glistening, angry red tip almost too tempting.

"You⎯ You're so fucking big", you sighed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. Nicholas' head fell down when he finally felt your touch on his painfully hard cock, his cross necklace swinging just above your face as he pressed both of his hands on the sides of your head, pinning you under him. Soft grunts left his mouth, and when you teased his tip with your thumb lightly ⎯ you felt his whole body clench above you.

"As much as I⎯ Fuck⎯ As much as I'd like to cum in your mouth or in your hand, I need to be inside you. Now".

His voice was rough, leaving you no room to protest as he leaned back, his hand replacing your own on his length. He pumped himself a few times, his dark eyes roaming over your form greedily, before he run his tip over your clit lightly. Your eyes rolled back into your head at the pressure, and Nicholas grunted when your wetness covered his aching cock. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the tip into your tight, weeping hole.

Your eyes snapped open, and you felt yourself clench around his thick tip ⎯ Nicholas let out a strangled pant at the feeling of your warm, inviting cunt.

"Oh, fuck. I thought I prepped you well", he managed to let out, drunk on the way your cunt took him in.

He slowly sank deeper into you, letting you adjust to the painful stretch, running his hands over your thighs to help you relax. "Almost all the way in. I'm so proud of you", he cooed softly, at which you clenched again, nodding your head to signal you were ready for more.

When he finally bottomed out, you cried out, feeling as if he was ripping your insides apart. Nicholas' eyes fell closed as you kept on clenching around him, and he swore he could cum from the feeling alone.

"Ba⎯baby, you need to relax. Fuck. Just relax", he groaned, and you tried to do exactly what he had told.

After a few seconds, you finally managed to get used to the stretch ⎯ now feeling so incredibly full, so deeply connected to him, but you needed more.

"Nicholas, move, please", you begged, and he was more than happy to obey.

He pulled out almost all the way, before snapping his hips into yours, watching the way your tits bounced with the movement. He pressed your legs flat against the mattress, and you cried out when he leaned down to tower over you again. His thrusts were slow but deep, the angle making him hit that spongy spot inside of you, and you were shaking, completely at his mercy.

"You're taking me so well", Nicholas praised, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly. "My good little girl. So tight, so warm".

You swore you could cum from his words alone, and when his fingers moved up from your thigh to press soft circles on your stiff, overstimulated clit, you were on the edge immediately.

"You feel so good, baby", he continued, speeding up, the sounds of his skin meeting yours filling the air. "I know you want to cum for me. Go on baby, let go for me".

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you nodded mindlessly, digging your nails into Nicholas' strong shoulders, drawing blood in the process.

Nicholas' tip kissed ⎯ no, fucked ⎯ your cervix repeatedly, as he buried himself in you over and over again, holding his own orgasm off.

When you finally let go, you felt as if your orgasm lasted a lifetime ⎯ you clenched around him so hard it was nearly impossible for him to keep his steady movements, your hips lifting off the mattress, grinding against his own as your orgasm washed over you.

"Fuck, I love you", Nicholas cried out, letting go of your legs only to stroke your cheeks in his big hands. He kissed you softly, groaning into your mouth as he painted your walls white, filling you with his cum.

At first, you didn't even comprehend his words ⎯ it took you a second after the earth shattering orgasm you had just experienced. Nicholas pulled away from your lips, letting you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours as he caught his own breath.

After a few seconds, he carefully removed his cock from you, laying down on his back, and you cuddled into his side. You traced soft circles on his chest as he covered the two of you with a blanket, kissing your forehead lovingly.

"Did you mean it?", you whispered, looking up at him, and he smiled softly. "Yes. I meant it".

"I love you too, Nick", your heart swelled as he pulled you closer, big smiles adoring both of your faces as you fell asleep in each other's warm embrace.

hoffmansgirl © 2024 | do not copy, translate, recreate or plagiarise my content. nicholas chavez masterlist ☆

tags: @darlingnikkisixx @titsout4nicholas @brlwla @blackynsupremacy @mrs-riddlexo @essentialwriter @nicholaschavezslut69 @niteskysx @millietozier

[solarenchanting]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒 ── .✦ getō suguru x fem!reader

a hot summer day involving two lovers and a cold floor

he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his tall figure relaxed as he crossed his arms against his bare chest. his hair fell loosely down his back, long strands brushing against his chest. black sweatpants sagged low enough to reveal the waistband of his boxers.

“and what do we have here?”

he chuckled dryly, cigarette between his lips, its smoke curling in the humid air. his eyes gleamed with mirth at sight before him: you were laying on the tiled floor, sprawled like a starfish, dressed in your favourite summer outfit. your stomach rose up and down, head lolled to the side.

your beautiful eyes—which made him weak in the knees whenever he stared into them—were closed; trying to play it off as if you were taking a nap, he knew that you were awake.

the scrunch of your nose as the smell of nicotine from his cigarette reached your nostrils, followed by the twitch of your eyes, and the soft giggle you couldn’t suppress gave you away.

“nothing,” you sing-song, lazily turning your head slightly to face him. “just trying to take a nap, you know?”

“on the floor?” he challenged, teasingly, making his way to the kitchen table with his arms unfolded; one hand in his pocket, and the other holding the cigarette as he stubbed it out on the rusty ashtray.

he pulled out a chair, the bottom of the legs scraping onto the tiles, as he took a seat. slouching back in the chair, legs—deliciously—spread apart. propping an elbow onto the table, he lowered his head slightly to stare into your eyes, smirking.

“why not? there’s no water for a cold shower, no electricity, we don't live near a beach, we don't have a pool…it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders, your eyes drawn to the ceiling.

“is that so? i see…” he mused playfully, arching an eyebrow with a tilt of his head; leaning further into his hand, amused.

he couldn’t blame you, you weren't wrong. the sun’s heat had seeped through every room of the small apartment since dawn, making the walls radiate warmth back at them.

the water supply randomly shut down at 10 am; at least they managed to shower before that. then, electricity shut off an hour or two later, leaving them to entertain themselves with their barely charged phones until boredom struck them.

The tiled floor beneath you might have been the only surface still offering a sliver of coolness, though it wasn’t much relief. Sweat clung to his skin, the dampness at the back of his neck was annoying as stray strands of hair stuck to it.

the kitchen reeked of stale smoke, sweat, and something humid, clinging to their skin like fog; it was thick, almost suffocating.

the faint hum of cicadas outside seemed to mock the silence of the powerless apartment—if he had a choice, he’d prefer the cicadas over the irritating buzzing of mosquitoes flying over his head when he’s trying to sleep at night.

“so laying on the floor was the next best thing?”

he shuffled on the chair, trying to keep his damp back from sticking to the surface, his eyes never leaving yours.

“pretty much, yeah. you should try it sometime,” you jerked your head to the empty space next to you on the floor, ending off your suggestion with a playful wink.

“oh, yeah? i’ll try it out now then.”

he pushed himself off the chair, walking over to the empty space between you and the refrigerator. he settled down, first feeling the cold floor through the fabric of his sweatpants.

he laid down on his back, hissing between his teeth before it turned into a content sigh. his hair spread out above him on the floor. he mirrored your pose, though his spread limbs were more controlled, more restrained than yours but still relaxed.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” you teased, turning your head to face him, eyes filled with adoration as they roamed over the details of his profile; his closed eyes, short eyelashes, black circular earring, sharp jawline.

“it does…” he muttered, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, “but not quite.”

“how so?” you furrowed your eyebrows, confused, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. the way he spoke made you curious, almost frustrated that he wasn’t just agreeing with you like he should be.

he turned his head to face you this time with quickness. a familiar yet mischievous and expected glint entered his eyes followed by a coy smile.

of course. you should’ve known he'd pull something like this. rolling your eyes, you tried to suppress the smile threatening to escape, but it was pointless. he always knew how to get you

“tch, you could've just told me, you know,” you reached over and lightly slapped his chest causing him to laugh.

“and you should know by now that i can’t nap without you. you’re my favourite part of napping, sweet girl,” he retorted.

you shifted closer to him, closing the gap between you both, until you nestled comfortably underneath his arm, laying your head on his shoulder, and threw your arm over his torso as you draped your leg over his waist.

he sighed softly, a deep and content breath escaping his lips as his arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you closer. his fingers gently traced soothing circles on your arm, the warmth of his touch grounding you. meanwhile, he shifted his free arm to the back of his head, his palm resting at the nape of his neck.

he felt your body melt as he rubbed your arm, your breath evening out. he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering there for a moment as his eyes fluttered shut. his stomach rose and fell, deep measured breaths, as he let himself fall asleep alongside you.

the floor beneath them was cool but unyielding, yet with you tucked into his side, nothing else—least of all the stifling heat—mattered.

a/n: i don't know what this is, but itʼs something. hope it's enjoyable nonetheless !! <33

[vivwritesfics]

Hellooo!!!

I basically had this idea for a long time now.

Landoscar x reader, where there is an article of them with pictures. Like they are in a hotel balcony, in robes, sharing a cigarette, and just small touches and smiles? Like you can clearly see that they did the dirty??👀

And later on the boys are asked about it, and they don't deny that the 3 of them are in a romantic relationship?

You can do whatever you want with the ending, I am happy with anything.

Thank youu❤️

okay i know i have requests in my inbox older than this one, but this jumped out at me the minute i got it and i just had to get on and write it

Warnings: smoking

The shirt on her body wasn't her own. Her forearms were on the balcony as she lifted the cigarette to her lips. The people marching through the streets below looked like little ants, she thoughts. But then she shook the thought away because it made her feel a little bit too much like an evil dictator.

"Hey," Lando walked up behind her, hand on her back as she came to stand beside her. He wore the softest smile as she rested his back against the balcony railings, looking back into the New York apartment they'd rented for the weekend.

Stubbing out her cigarette, she popped a mint into her mouth and stepped towards him. His nose crinkled at the smell that clung to her, but he quickly dropped it and wrapped his arms around her.

It was like they couldn't bear to be apart for more than two seconds. Looking at them, it was like they'd been apart for months, reunited at long last. At least, that was what Oscar thought as he watched them.

The coffee machine stopped. Grabbing the two mugs he had ready, Oscar walked out onto the balcony, joining his loves. He gave her the spare mug and stood beside Lando as he sipped his own. Lando never got a coffee; he hated the taste and the smell.

"You guys are killing me," he groaned as Oscar leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"You're so dramatic," he laughed, hand on Lando's waist as he stepped around him to kiss her.

The post coital haze was like no other. They stood together on the balcony of the New York apartment, exchanging kisses and touches. New York, because they weren't expected to be there, because they had no reason to be there. New York, because it was a perfect escape.

Oscar was wearing his McLaren hat. Well, he was until she knocked it from his head and placed it down onto the table. "There," she said, raking her fingers through his hair, messing up the tamed locks.

By that point, it was too late. If Oscar hadn't been wearing that hat, they probably wouldn't have been spotted. Well, they might have. The tabloids always managed to find Lando. Fangirls on tiktok always managed to find Lando.

That was how images of the three of them getting rather... frisky on the balcony spread around the internet. If the pictures had just been the two of them kissing her, they could have saved face. But no. There were plenty of images of Oscar and Lando, lips locked and groping each other.

The three of them didn't know about it until the next race. She was home, watching it all unfold.

When the interviewer first asked about the pictures of them on the balcony, first asked about their trip to New York, both of their faces dropped. Nobody was supposed to know about that trip, nobody but them. The only pictures from that trip was supposed to be the polaroid Oscar took of her back covered in Lando's cum (the picture in his wallet).

Lando looked at his teammate. Neither of them really wanted to reveal their girl. They didn't want their relationship in the spotlight, but they had no choice.

Oscar cleared his throat and lifted the microphone to his lips. "That-" He looked at Lando. "-is our girlfriend."

Truly, it was a weight lifted for both of them. The world knew that they were together, knew about the girl they loved. They didn't need to know much more than that, didn't need to know their story, how they met, how the three of them got together.

They didn't need to know their story.

Now it was out, they couldn't wait to take her to a race. It was going to take a long while for them to get to that stage, to want to have her around the cameras and the interviewers.

But one day. One day it would happen.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ That heavy breathin' on the floor ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | Sevika x ftm!reader (customer) | Silco x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, angst | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD + partly written on my phone | wc: 17k

warnings: violence against a sw, police brutality, r! is nearly assaulted but is saved, r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, strap-on, minor daddy kink (sevika), pussy-eating, choking, slapping, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used), murder, graphic depictions of violence

masterlist; pt. 1; pt. 2

authors note: this kind of gets a bit heavy at the end with themes of injustices against s*x workers along side police brutality and r! nearly getting assaulted by a haughty rich dude from Piltover. If its it's too heavy, please prioritize yourself ! *song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander (202cm), Sevika (185cm), and Silco (182cm) in this fic.

"So, how'd you decide this career was the best course of action in your life?" your lips twitch at the question. Well, less of the question and more of the person asking; there was an accent these Topsiders have. Dripping with condescension and haughtiness. It was like they were bred to have their noses pointed up, as if there was some sort of treasure up those pin-holes.

"You're asking for my life story?" you drawl, watching as his hands crawl up your thighs. They were splotchy with age spots, but plumper than the old timers from here. Figures. You split your legs for him and he wets his lips. "You get off on that sort of things?" you throw an arched brow his way, a look he dismisses with a wanton grope of your unclothed cunt.

"If I say I do, you'd have to indulge, correct?"

Even the way he asks his questions felt like he was talking down to you.

You hated events like these. The brothel hosted them for the handful of clients who could afford to rent out a whole floor for themselves, usually they were sleazy Topsiders with their stupid little kids who'd come of age.

Easier to pop all sorts of cherries in the underbelly of Piltover because 'they'd do just about anything for some coin!'

You take a long drag of your hookah while the old fuck grinds his palm to your dick. It's strange how soft his hands are. You're used to callouses, palms that strike with power behind them and grips that bruises. This was pathetic.

"My dad bailed on my mom before he knew I was even conceived," his eyes glimmer with morbid curiosity. He rubs his hands up and down, a tepid rhythm that sincerely lacks in any semblance of pleasure. "My poor, young, dumb, mother. She tried really, really, really hard." "Did she?"

You nod, looking off at the floor where a whore was sucking off another Topsider; laid on her belly between his legs on the cushions and duvets. The theme of this event had been some dumbass ancient civilization. With white toga's and golden wreaths some of their kids spent a week working on.

"She worked her ass off. Determined to make life worth living for me."

"Did she work...here?"

There it was. That sick fascination. He didn't even know if this story was real, you could be bullshitting him but it doesn't matter. As he strokes your cock, his eyes gleam with a cruelty that only men of his status could possess. Pain was a fetish; it was a welcomed one even. But this? This fetish that he has, of listening to sob stories and fulfilling his torture fantasy. Did he think he was better than a sexual sadist because his hands were soft and wimpy?

He must. Perhaps he even thinks this line of questioning elevates him from your usual customers. Makes this all feel more 'ethical'.

It was funny seeing a predator file their teeth down into shiny sparkling stubs (his veneers were blinding) but forget they still had claws. Your lips curl away from your teeth, in disgust and rising anger.

Then Doe appears in front of you. Her hands stroking up your thighs as she blocks the Topsider's face from yours. The twitch in your brow is hidden behind your mask, but the corners of your mouth twist in confusion. She slips her fingers into his hold, giggling as he greets her.

"Mr. Erikson," she returns the flirting he dishes out, slipping his finger under the strap of her toga and tugging it down. When she brushes her hair over her shoulder, she gives you a pointed expression.

Calm the fuck down, was written all over her face. When she flits her eyes to your trembling hand, you loosen your grip on the hookah and click your teeth. She climbs smoothly onto that old fuck's lap, distracting him with her perky tits while you walk away.

The beaded curtains rattle angrily as you sulk past the threshold. Glaring at every privileged little fuck there on your way out of the hall. When a blonde man tried to grasp at your wrist you tug it away with a snarl. Fucking Topsiders. Going to the Undercity to get their dicks wet, maybe even delude some poor shit into thinking that they could be more. As if they'd ever marry anyone from here, or claim the children they fathered.

Because that's what Topsiders do. They take. All they know to do is take and take and take with no regard nor care —

A hand grabs at your wrist, harshly tugging you back and when you spin you grab the brooch at your shoulder and unclasp it to press the point to Sevika's neck. Your eyes widens and she lets out a low whistle.

"Hello to you too."

"Fuck, Sevika," you hastily bring your 'weapon' down, mindlessly clipping it to the golden make-shift rope-belt at your hip. She lets your wrist go while you lean in to make sure you hadn't actually drawn blood.

"Don't just grab me like that," you chastise. She takes notice of your get-up then glances towards the muffled noises of the hall behind you. "You finished in there?" she asks.

You should tell her no. You'd been asked for by name from the Topsiders, having done well at a previous party like this.

"Yeah. You want me for the night?" she shifts the tooth pick to the other side of her grin, reaching another hand to tug you in by your waist. "C'mon baby, say it nicely."

Sevika tilts her head, her rough hands making your lashes tremble. Both of her hands grab firmly at your ass, hitching you up and close. Her firm body, the scent of smoke and ash and alcohol easing you down as they mingle with Sevika's naturally smoky cologne. Judging from the bag of coin she has hidden in her jacket — that you can feel from under your hand — she was most likely in a good mood from winning a game.

"Say it sweet, how'd you'd ask those Topsiders to fuck you?" she's just getting a rise out of you. It wasn't a secret to Sevika that you despised the Topsiders. Even if you never ranted to her about it, every time they walked into the establishment your mask could barely keep your expression of dismay at bay.

You narrow your eyes at her. Smoothly slipping a hand into her jacket and taking the bag of coins out and holding it out of her reach when she tries to grab it.

"You think you deserve to fuck me?" you play along with her game. Leaning your face in to hers, your mask brushing her cheek. "Little limp dicks like you can barely make me hard, much less cum." Sevika's grip is bruising. The fabric of your toga nearly giving away to her harshness. Sevika was going to fuck you just the way you needed. Fast and hard; a true Zaunite in every way.

Your mask had been tossed aside, most likely on the floor of your room somewhere. The spray-painted golden wreaths, brooch, and belt were safely placed onto one of the dressers. The toga did not get that much grace though. Having been ripped away from your body as Sevika spun you around to pin you down on your stomach at the edge of the semi-circle bed.

"Sevika!" you exclaim in genuine alarm. She can still hear the smile in your voice so she just stares at the cloth material in her hands and breathes out a laugh. It lands next to you while she takes off her cloak.

"That cost money?" she questions mindlessly. You turn over on your back, staring up at her, stark naked. She'd spit out the toothpick before she smashed your lips together up the stairs, yet somehow she's found a cigarette to put between her teeth.

"Yeah," you replied in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to your nightstand to grab your box of matches. Striking one to light. She leans over you, her rough hands feeling up your split thighs and you light up her cigarette for her.

"I bought the damn fabric." "Cheap fabric," she replies as she pulls climbs on the bed. Her clothed body pressed against yours.

"Or maybe you're just freakishly strong," you retort with a huff.

"I'll pay extra," she laughs when you raise your brows.

Whores. So easy.

"Fuck, Sevika." She strokes your dick with her fingers which makes your breath hitch. "Yuh - You're gonna...You have to slow down."

"I know you can take more than this." You scowl at her, she just presses down on your poor dick. "I'm talking about gambling, dumbass. You're getting the extra coin from it, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes, grabbing you face in her other hand and smushing your cheeks — involuntarily making your lips purse out like a fish while she stares down at you. The white smoke slithering up into the air making her grey eyes shine like a vengeful spirit.

"You don't want me here spoiling your ass?" she says gruffly, her fingers now slipping down to your winking hole and smearing your slick over it. "Who else is gonna remind this hole how rough you need it?"

Your eyes soften. She can see your resolve melt as she slips a finger inside of you, she groans just as your brows twitch and knit together. Anal was Sevika's wheelhouse. She always made your entire body shiver and shake when she gets in the mood to fuck you as if you were nothing but her personal flesh light.

"Fuh - fuck you," you hiss out. She knows you don't mean it. Because your customer's moods was your own wheelhouse. You know how they like to play, how much chase they want, how much biting they love. It's why your roster of clients were oddly attached to your fox mask.

She brings her hand to your neck and watch as your back arches of the bed as she fingerfucks your ass while she has her thumb inside of your cunt. Her cigarette was beginning to burn too much and when the ashes drop onto your thigh, you squeak in alarm but don't tell her to stop. So she simply doesn't.

Sevika occasionally slips her fingers back inside of your cunt to gather more lube and you only give her a whine of displeasure.

"You're fine," she reassures, "I'm the first Jane of the night, right?"

When you give her a quizzical look she laughs.

"Your ass is way too tight. Either I'm the first of the night or there's some micro dicks at that party."

"You're way too fuckin' cocky, you know that?"

When Sevika has you fully stretched out, she gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching your chest raise and fall as you're splayed out on the bed whilst she takes off her clothes and grabs at the cloak and bag she dropped on the ground. Your thighs were wet from your own slick and the lube she'd fished out from your drawers, you watch her move when you lift your arm away from your face.

She's putting on her strap. Just the sight of it has both of your holes clenching. Sevika smushes the cigarette in an ash tray and whistles, twisting her wrist to point down and you hate how much your stomach flutters at the casual dominance. You get on your hands and knees, face pressed to the bed. She grabs the globes of your ass, stroking her dick in the other hand.

"...Are you waiting for me to beg?" you wonder after a moment.

"Might be nice to hear." Your laughter makes her grin. Not that you could see it. You take a few breaths, then look at her from over your shoulder.

"C'mon, daddy. Fuck me." You whine out. Sevika stares on. Unimpressed. You curl your lip, twisting your upper half a bit further to stare back.

"That's a classic."

"I've heard better."

"Hah! From who? Doe?" you fully lay on your side now, smirking as you look up at her. "You're real sweet on her, huh?"

When Sevika grunts, you throw your head back to laugh. She grabs at your ankles but you kick her efforts away and drag yourself further up the bed. She calls out your name flatly but you just giggle.

"You are," you purr. "Thought you said falling for whores are for chumps."

Sevika narrows her eyes, grabbing at your calf and tugging you back down. You squeal, still smiling even when she grabs your ripped toga to tie your wrists together and pull it between your legs as she bends them so far forward your knees are nearly touching your chest.

"Struck a nerve, daddy?" you challenge. Her dick catches on the rim of your asshole, pressing but not breaching.

"You're such a fucking brat. Just a fiend for this kind of shit, huh? Like it rough?"

The thick head of it presses in and you groan. The noise airy — as if she'd knocked it out of you by simply pressing in despite the resistance.

"Your wolfman fuck you like this too?"

You make a noise. Half-squeak and half-gasp, brows furrowing and jumping in alarm when she just slams in more than half of her cock inside.

"Fuck!"

"He fucks your ass like this?"

She readjusts her stance, the bed creaking as she keeps your body at her complete mercy. Pinned under her frame, hands tied up and pulled by her strength while her thick cock is intently filling your ass up. The position makes her hit all the right spots, and you want nothing more than to drown in the overwhelmingly delicious pressure she's pulling you into. But her questions has caught you completely off guard.

"Sevika," you moan out, pushing at her waist with your weak fingers, trying to relieve some of the pleasure. She slopes her brows in faux concern.

"Yeah, you're sweet on him, aren't ya'?"

She slides into you some more, the veins on her cock making your toes curl as your hole clenches around her. She groans as though she can feel it. And you toss your head back.

"You're fucking huge," you whine out.

"Is he bigger or smaller?"

You roll your eyes at her and she smirks. She inches back a few then just drops all her weight down. The moan you let out is nonexistent, mouth opened in a silent scream as your back arches and your vision goes white.

"He make you feel that good?" You suck in a quick breath, as if remembering you could but she doesn't let up.

"I definitely touched something there, huh?"

She starts thrusting. Shallow but quick, just pistoning in and out of your poor ass while your cunt weeps out for a sliver of attention. She ignores it all in favour of waiting for you to flutter your pretty eyes open.

"Duh - daddy," you hiccup out and she just pulls your tied hands out from between your thighs to instead pin above your head.

"S'little too late to act nice, sweet cheeks." You mewl, hips bucking as she continues her onslaught. "Daddy, plea - ah!" The smack of her palm against your ass has your entire body jolting.

"It's a yes or no, baby."

Tears darken your lashes, you bring your hand to her face and use any bit of core strength you have to press your lips with hers but she simply pushes your face down. Not by your neck. No. She's intentionally cruel as she has the space between her thumb and pointer right under the top row of your teeth.

As she thrusts out moan after moan, all you can do is let her hear it. It's humiliating. The noises you make are all choked up, saliva is beginning to pool from the corners of your mouth. No matter how much you thrash or push or try to buck, she just continues to rail you.

You know Sevika would stop if you tapped at her four times in a row. It was something the both of you had long established as a non-verbal safe-word when there's a craving for something harder.

She knows you know how to stop her if you need to. You don't. So she ploughs into you, groaning as she watches you struggle.

"C'mon baby, that's it." She's purring, sweat beading down her face as her hair comes undone. She's a vision like this. Her strong arms flexing under the low lights, her firm stomach clenched as though you were truly milking her cock. It makes you a bit delirious, especially when she's chewing on her lower lip and looking down at you like this.

"Cum around my cock. Like a proper bitch," you groan, knowing she's close from the way her grip on you tightens.

You're feeling the building pressure finally reaching its peak and you bite down on her hand, glaring at her as you moan around her flesh. She just smiles, wide and proud. A true predator.

Her teeth sharp just like her claws.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your cunt pathetically squirt, the wetness just urging Sevika on as she forces you to bite down harder.

"You alright?"

Vander's voice feels like an ice pack against bruised skin. An apt metaphor considering he was putting an ice pack to your bruised ass.

"Mmm," he chuckled at your muffled response. After Sevika and you got scolded by your madame, you sought refuge at The Last Drop. Of course, Sevika simply thought you wanted a drink and you had. You hung around her side until she got swept up into a game of poker and slipped away to the back. All under Vander’s watchful eye.

He had grabbed an ice pack just as you slipped through the back, tapping another bartender’s shoulder to take over while he went upstairs. Which is where he found you. In his bedroom, shimmying out of your outfit and looking at him with those pleading eyes.

“You’re off early,” he kneaded at the back of your thighs, watching as your muscles jumped and twitched. “You tapped out?”

He sounds rightfully surprised. You’re not the type to just get off work early because of a bruised ass. You’re tougher than most of everyone here. You stare at him, face smushed against your crossed arms. He reaches to brush some hair away, and you melt further on his mattress.

“Darling?” you frown but finally confess. “I ran away from some dumbass party that the madame was hosting for some Topsider fucks.”

“You thought I’d be angry knowin’ that?” Vander arches a brow. Laying down next to you, trusting that The Last Drop could handle just a few more minutes without him. “You’re allowed to be angry at them. Shits bloody unfair.”

You get on your elbows, placing your chin in your palm while he looks down at you.

“Aren’t you angry at them?” you watch his expression shift. It’s a barely noticeable twitch, really it could be written off as a muscle spasm if anything.

“Aren’t you tired of being angry at them?” you continued.

“I put those dreams on the shelf a long time ago,” he attempts to soothe you by cupping your face. It works, just barely, but you lean into his warmth. “I’ve got too much to lose. This place, the kids.” He pauses and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his pinkie tilting your head up.

“You.”

The comfortable silence washes over. You take a breath and sigh, nuzzling into his large palm. The sweet act has him smiling, glad you drop the topic and using his strength to pull you to lay on his front.

“Sorry, I’m a little dirty.”

“Mm, I like you dirty.”

He laughs. The action jostling you a bit but you simply wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you firm.

“You could just work here.” He runs his hand down your back, kneading his thumbs in at a few knots. You groan into his ear, shaking your head. “You dunno’ what you’re sayin’”

“I’m serious,” he adjusts the ice pack and you shiver a bit as the its sweat drips down between your thighs. “Bar could always use a nicer face than mines.”

“Derek’s pretty enough.” Vander laughs. It rumbles in his throat this time and you grin just hearing it.

“B’sides, you’re plenty handsome.”

“Yeah, but not one of us compare to you, darling.” You hum in agreement, sighing as he works more knots loose.

“Don’t have ta’ come here to lick your wounds if there’s no wounds to lick. Could spend more time with Powder and Claggor, the kids are fond of ya’”

Your eyes slip open. Heart squeezing fondly at the mention of those little rascals. Vander and you aren’t exactly a thing, not said outloud anyways, but he introduced you to his kids. That meant something. He taught you how to sneak into his room too. When your landlord had to kick you out for a few weeks to accommodate for her lame ass nephew, you sheltered at The Last Drop and well, you all bonded.

The guilt in your heart stabbing into you night after night as more feelings poured into this already tumultuously boiling pot of emotions.

But Silco thought it was a good thing. He’d probably be telling you to take Vander’s deal on becoming this weird stay-at-home bartender/boyfriend/babysitter to get more information. Whether it be from Sheriff Grayson or the ever restless Vi.

“Think about it?” Vander blinks up at you when you lift your head. When your lips meet, it’s sweet. Slow and sensual, more lips than tongue. Pecks and real long-lasting ones. You murmur his name and he whispers yours back.

“You not sore?”

“Fuck me slow?”

He smiles and claims your lips again. Vander drifts his hand to the ice pack and removes it. The thud it makes when it falls to the ground makes you giggle, so he attacks your neck next; you give him free reign, gasping when he switches your positions to have laid down next to him.

You’re not even sure what happens next. One moment he’s clothed and the next he’s not as he practically snuggle fucks you on your side. He doesn’t have a bed frame but the springs in his mattress makes a few jostling noises as his cock slid in and out of your cunt.

“Vander, ah-mmphf, fuuuuck,” you press your face into the pillow and simply let him move you around. Completely at his mercy as he holds your waist.

Sevika glanced up at the faint thuds she was hearing above her. But refocuses on the table before her, scoffing at her competitor's lame poker face. Someone turned up the juke box and the noises are a distant memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he lifts one of your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the underside of your arm and brushing his teeth there. The sensation of his beard makes you shiver.

“Deeper, please, Vander. Need you s’much deeper.” He kisses you, pulling out to readjust his position. You’re still laid on your side and he straddles your left leg and slides his thick cock inside of you again. Your voice trembles.

“There, darlin’?” you nod, whimpering when he rocks his hips in and out of you. You clutch at the bedsheets, turning your face into the pillow again as your cunt clenches down around him.

“Fuck, c’mon. Don’t push me out,” Vander threads his fingers through your hand and gently, as if you were made of glass instead of jagged metal, turns your head to him.

“Easy, loosen up a bit. Can’t fuck you how you need me to if you’re too tight.”

You whine, taking a few breaths and trying your best not to clench around him. Fuck, he was so thick. Even if you weren’t clenching, you were sure he’d still feel snug. He thanks you with a kiss to your forehead, gently shushing you when he moves again.

“Vuh...Vander...fuuuck, baby, please.”

“I’ve got ya’, come on, cum f’me.”

“You — Are you —”

Vander grunts, nodding as you once again clamp down on him. He knows you’re close, right on the edge and he wants to follow and dive with you. He kisses you, practically straling your breath away as his thrusts get sloppier and harsher. You mewl, nails digging into the back of his hands. Your orgasm washes over like a wave, your hips bucking as Vander feels your cum spurt around his dick and balls. He’s close behind, filling your insides with thick ropes of cum. He’s murmuring something into your skin. Something you can’t make out.

“Shit, shit.”

When he pulls out, your cunt clenched around nothing but air. Twitching and pulsing just like your little dick, aftershocks of pleasure running through you. His cum begins oozing out between your legs and he pants at the sight. You do nothing to stop him when he places you on your back — putting a pillow under your ass — and dives his head between your legs.

“Vander,” you moan out. Breath hitching as he licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Let me do this for you,” he mumbles, groaning at the taste of your cum and his mixing together on his tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

You stretch your arms above your head while he eats your boypussy out like he’s a starved man. His beard wet with your juices as your writhe on the bed. He doesn’t even tease, just intently cleaning and eating you out. You moan weakly for him, voice hoarse from servicing the Sevika and now fucking Vander.

You pinch your brows, squirming on the bed and gasping airily as Vander eases you into your nth orgasm of the day.

When you reach that peak, he eases you back down from the clouds. Carefully stroking over your thighs as he watches you catch you breath.

This is where you belong, he thinks. On his bed, legs spread and boycunt leaking with his cum; his name coming out your lips and his hands on your thighs. Vander presses kisses up your hips and chest, finally giving you a kiss on the lips.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles and you trust him enough to slip your eyes closed.

“Just rest,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

Quitting was a sordid affair. There'd been a few passive aggressive claims from your madame about you crawling back and you calling her a cunt. Despite that, the both of you still acknowledge each other when she does walk into The Last Drop — it's hard to hate the woman who'd been generous enough to teach you everything you needed to know to survive.

The month that passed had been smooth sailing. You've gotten closer to Vander and his kids, even Benzo's little protege Ekko had come around to you. Which interests Silco, so you get close to Benzo. When Powder needs help with carrying stuff to his shop, you help. The guy was loyal to a fault and stubborn just like Silco had mentioned.

The first lesson you'd been taught in your ex-profession had been not to get feelings involved. Don't even dare to associate with customers who begin to get emotionally invested — it was bad for business in the long run. Sex isn't complicated but once you tangle in feelings? Bad mix for you. But when it came to listening in and relaying information, that career devastating choice is a powerful weapon. To turn trust into a dagger and thrust it under their ribs, tilting the blade up to hear that poor sucker suffer with each inhale.

So why is it so different this time?

How could you tuck in Powder at night and then sneak off to meet Silco in the docks to tell him what you'd overheard from Vander, Benzo, and Sheriff Grayson's discussions?

Were you that heartless?

Revolution is messy, Silco had once told you. It takes blood, sweat, tears, guts, and more guts. You don't ask for permission and you certainly don't ask for forgiveness after. Violence was necessary for change. Vander had lost sight of that, gotten soft.

But isn't it too cruel to play with his heart this way?

Would he love you if he knew what you were fighting for?

Would he condemn you for how you want respect?

He'd given you free roam of his home. Let his kids get attached to you. Gave you a job. All because he loves you.

"Is this really okay?" Vi says, which pulls you out of your thoughts. Your pupils shrink, turning to face her with your brows near your hairline.

Right. You were at the river with the kids.

The water gleamed and glimmered with metal wreckage in the bottom. There was also the unmistakable sheen of oil in it, but it honestly just added colour to the teal. The kids had breathed in worse, besides, it wasn't everyday they get to swim and just act their age.

"What? It's harmless," you snicker out, smoothly recovering as you lean back on your hands. She frowns, standing next to you on the banks. Vi constantly looks up at every little noise. Even if her head didn't turn, it was like the tip of her ears would just flick up like a vigil cat.

"Vi, it's fine. We're allowed to be here," you peer down at Claggor teaching Powder how to squirt out water between their palms while Mylo is on the shore. Wet and a bit glum looking as he shakes off the water from his hair.

"It's good to get a bit of sunlight," you tell Vi as you swing your legs over and smile as Powder accidentally shot a stream of water up Claggor's nose with amazing accuracy. Mylo laughs and Claggor splashes the water back over him. Her furrowed brow softening the tiniest bit.

It quickly returns as she turns her attention to the tall buildings with their golden ornaments and expensive detailing. You lean on your hands, nudging her leg with your elbow to pull her back.

"Hey, bet if you aim just right you can splash Mylo, Claggor, and Powder when you dive." She raises a brow, smirking at you.

Vi and you didn't have the best beginnings. She knew what your profession was and Mylo didn't exactly help with his long tales of the 'rumours' he's heard. Vander could protect himself, she knows this, but she got prickly when you had unceremoniously moved in during your landlord-nephew fiasco. Over some time though, she finds herself liking your more cynical nature. Although you acknowledge that they're kids, you also give them more credit than most adults do. It's nice feeling respected as a person.

"Hah! What are you betting?" You open your mouth to put an offer of some coins when the yell of an enforcer makes you twist your head and instantly clamber onto your feet.

"You! Stay there!" He yells, his blue uniform gleaming under the light. It's so rare seeing them all armoured up above ground. The sight should mean that you were well within your rights to be here, if he wore the armour that meant you were close enough to the Lanes to get him uncomfortable.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go!" Vi nods and instantly hurries to gather her siblings attention, Claggor lifting Powder out the water and rushing to the shore while Mylo gathers their clothes. You know the enforcers would take some time climbing down — especially with his dumbass protective wear — so you use those precious minutes to ensure every one of them were ahead of you.

"(Y/N)!" Powder and Mylo call out when they hear you yell behind them. Vi skids to a stop, eyes wide when you find yourself pressed to the brick wall.

"Just go! Go!" she hesitates and you grit your teeth. "GO!"

The enforcer turns his gaze to them, his harsh breathing against your ear making you shudder. Vi is helpless as she grabs Mylo and Powder's wrist to tug them forward.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" you seethe out as you feel him patting you down.

"Not loiterin', not skulking, we were just - Fuck! Take it easy!" he kicks your ankles apart and you try to spin around only to get backhanded by your faceless attacker. He covers your eyes with his gloved hand, moving your head here and there as though he was inspecting you.

"Yeah, you're him," his mask makes his voice sounded inhumane. A machine-like quality that zaps out any bit of remorse or compassion from him. "You fuckin' slut."

Crumpling to the floor, you quickly cover your head and curl up when you see his boots flying in your direction.

Powder can only see glimpses of this violence as she turns her head back. Vi tells her to focus but she can't. Because all she sees is you on the floor, torso bare because you'd been swimming, bare foot too; hair wet, completely defenseless. Your grunts of pain echoing through the tunnel and your eyes having relief in them as the kids narrowly escape.

"What happened?" is Vander's first question when they all tumbled into The Last Drop. Instantly straightening up at Vi's distraught expression. It was still too early for anyone to have stumbled in, even by the Lanes standard, so he gave them all his attention.

"Vi?"

"We - we were just - we were just swimming," Mylo breathes through his nose, knees nearly buckling at the fright and rush of adrenaline. Their run through the underground, barefoot, and wet had certainly brought enough attention as is. Vander ushered them to get in, locking the front doors as they all suddenly find their voices.

"He said it was safe, they just, they grabbed him!" Vi is beginning to stomp, and Claggor nods along.

"(Y/N)?" Vander asks and Powder nods, eyes brimming with tears as she turns her attention to the doors. You should be bursting through it right now. Why weren't you?

"We were just swimming," Mylo repeats. Vander grabs his jacket. "I'm going with you!" Vi announces.

"Your feet are bleeding," he points out. "All you'd do is get in the way. Everyone of you stay here. I'll fix this."

Powder watches on as Vander rushes out the front door. Vi is still arguing, attempting to follow along either way but whatever shit she got trapped in her skin causes her to wince and falter. Claggor catches her, attempting to guide her to the chairs while Mylo is repeating the same thing.

"We were just swimming."

Topsiders had a weird thing for grudges. You understood that better than most. Eye for an eye and all that. But for Topsiders? It seemed rejection was worthy of a grudge. When you come to from the haze, you're on the wooden floors of a familiar face's house. His figure comes in fours, then twos, and finally come together in one.

Mr. Erikson. From that dumbass toga event at the brothel.

He's much more hideous in brighter lights. His plump cheeks and beady eyes more prominent. You cough, attempting to get up onto your feet only to be kept down as a familiar boot presses down on your shoulder. The bruise that was already blooming there made you grit your teeth while he harshly stomped down. Erikson winces, waving his hand to make the enforcer stop.

"Not so rough now. If he's too broken, it'll be painful to look at."

Glaring venomously at him as you stubbornly peel yourself off the floor and onto your staggering feet. The world spins but you stomp your foot to get some sense of equilibrium. There's a pounding in your head that pierces through your eyes and there's blood in your mouth; but all you can feel right now is the numbness in your limbs and the rapid pulse in your neck,

"I named you to your madame. The fox with the sweet (S/C) skin and pretty lips. The boy with the tightest cunt I've ever felt. You were there at a previous party, my other son's birthday."

You spit out some blood, wiping it away with the back of your hand as you sway in your spot. He curls his nose but continues.

"I had been hoping to give you as a gift to my youngest, Troy. But then you left, and when I asked for you again your madame wouldn't tell me just where you went. "

"You fucking kidnapped me because I wouldn't fuck you and your son on his birthday?"

The incredulity of the entire situation makes you choke out a laugh. Even with your spinning vision, this office was clearly that of someone who made decent money. With its mahogany bookshelves and leatherbound covers. Some books here were probably older than your ass, much more priceless too. Hell, you bet even that stupid fucking nameplate with the name Stephen Erikson carved into the gold had costs more than you.

"She said you quit. It was very hard to find you, considering the masks and all." He sniffles derisively. Off-put by your brash display. You were so nice and tender at the brothel, now you were acting like a completely different person.

"There's other guys with cunts, you geriatric chaser —" The enforcer backhands you again and it sends you flying to a shelf, a few books tumbling down while you desperately try not to fall on your ass.

"Troy," the old man reprimands with a drawl. He turns his attention back to you; "We'll pay you handsomely for a night."

You shake your head, digging your nails into the wood as your vision spins again. Troy, that shit, takes off his helmet and he's much more honest compared to his father; his fetish for pain was evident. Perhaps Stephen hadn't filed his teeth like you'd thought. Maybe they were just made to grind bones to dust, prolong their preys pain because unlike a predator with their fangs these teeth aren't for a merciless death.

Clearly he had learned this from his father who was enabling this behaviour. He probably taught him everything he needed to know anyways. You pant as you notice the painted family portrait on the wall of the study. Mr. Erikson and his three sons, all wearing their Enforcer's badge with pride. You recognized them all, each stupid event flashing through your head and each memory makes you more and more nauseous.

"I'm a fucking bartender now, I don't do that shit anymore" you growl out. Stephen sighs, leaning back in his leather tuft chair, looking completely bored by this entire insane exchange.

"Troy tells me he found you with a few kids. Yours?" When you say nothing in reply, he takes your seething silence as a yes. "Following your mothers footsteps, are you?" He shakes a bag of coins. Then tosses it onto the floor, golden pieces spilling out in front of you.

"You can work your ass off. Make life worth living for them."

There was a knock at the door. You waste no time and yell but get the breath knocked out of you as Troy swiftly pins you to the book shelf, a gloved hand over your mouth as he holds your hips in place with his own. Your skin prickles, just his weight on you has your stomach feeling sick.

"Who the hell is that?" Troy hisses at his father, his blue eyes panicked. The old man, as cool as a cucumber, simply tells the person on the other side to state their business.

"It's just the bloody maid," he scoffs out.

But the maid does not state their business. It's just pure silence on the other end until there's suddenly pounding. It makes the old man stand and Troy loosens his grip so you bring your knee between his legs. As he curls over you shove him away and retreat into a corner just as the door bursts open.

You recognize them. Ran, Lock, a few other nameless goons who you don't quite remember, and in the center of it all?

"Silco," you move and you fall to your knees. His expression darkens. The men and women fill the room, crowding Troy and his father to the other end while Silco makes his way to you. He offers a hand and you take it, leaning against him as he looks you over. Your lip was cut and one side of your face was scratched up, bruised and sore. The fact that you were dressed for a swim, torso bare, and feet scratched up from being dragged, made his ire raise.

"They did this to you?" He shrugged his coat off, and slipped it around your shoulders. You drew the front closed, nodding as you tuck your head under his chin.

"I wouldn't fuck them and they got pissy," you whisper to him. Silco growls, the rumbling noise soothing you just like Vander's chuckle would. He cups your face in his hand, his pinkie sliding under your jaw and his thumb across your cheek.

"What is this? Who are you?" Stephen stands, reaching for something on his desk but getting slammed face first onto the hard wood. There's a loud crackling noise that follows and you flinch out of shock. Silco simply guides your head to his neck, one hand smoothing over the back of your head and sighing in relief as his palms lift with no crimson.

"Dad!" Troy's yell gets cut short when he's forced onto his knees. There was a scuffle, fists meeting face and knees slamming themselves into his diaphragm. A small smile twitches to your face as your eyes slip close. Silco squeezes you, jolting you a bit.

"Stay awake, come. Sit."

Silco moves casually. Setting you to lay down on the lounge chair in the study, taking his coat off your shoulders to instead drape it over your. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe away your blood while he kneels next to you. He takes his sweet time with you, his men keeping the pigs still as they both find themselves pinned down.

"I'd heard an enforcer had been snooping around the brothel. Asking for someone, demanding even" His voice makes your heart calm down, adrenaline ebbing away as he presses down on the cut on your eyebrow. The pain keeps you awake, but he still purses his lips at your hiss. Silco stands up, sighing softly. A kid comes to your side, offering you a flask of water. He's careful as he tilts your head up, watching intently as you sip it down.

"You're a proud man, aren't you Stephen?" Silco admires the family portrait, taking it the details of each face before he turns his attention to the table of trinkets below it. "A family of enforcers. Protecting the city you love." Silco tilts his head as he hears them struggle once again.

"While the city you constantly take from suffer from your greed."

"Fuckin' trencher," Troy spits out. His cheek pressed on by the heel of a boot. His blue eyes were shaking with indignation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Fissure Folk, Sump Rat, Undercity scum," Silco answers. He steps over Troy's head and jerks his chin to signal Lock to step away from Stephen. He does and Stephen inhales, his entire body shaking as he coughs and coughs. The impressive table creaked under the old man's rattling breathes.

Ran brings Silco the fallen leather tuft chair and he crosses his legs as he sits.

"I'm sure you boast about being a near native to the undercity. With how often you visit our brothels with your men and sons. Using our bodies for your sick desires then beating it when you have the uniform on. Pretending to be a saint as your city fills your pockets. As if you've actually done anything worthwhile."

Stephen continues to hack, wheezing and whimpering. Every breath he took felt like a blunt blade was scratching up his lungs. His ribs were broken, he was sure of it.

"Yet, despite how many hours you've spent with our men and women, you still fail to understand the most important thing about us." Silco spreads his legs, elbows on his knees as he leans in so Stephen was looking right into his eyes.

"We protect our own."

"Please," Stephen's voice sounded strained. Like air escaping out of a broken pipe, the pitch ear grating. "I'm sorry."

Silco openly observes Stephen's splotchy red face. Cheeks full and plump, his brows trimmed and his dyed hair shining unnaturally cherry red. The family potrait was recent, but the artist had covered up their earlier renditions of Stephen's wrinkles while his blonde sons all looked their current age.

"No, you aren't." He states dryly, motioning for the man to slam Stephen back onto the table, him howling in pain just as Ran switches the radio on.

A jaunty tune plays. The singer sighing about puppy love as the melodic background singers and stringed instruments accompany his voice. He leans back in the chair, nodding as Stephen's captor wrings his hands back.

"But you will be."

"No!" Troy twists and bucks like an animal. His eyes wide with horror. As if he hadn't intended to strip you of all your dignity just moments ago. The sight of that fear on their face, that dawn of realization; even when they don't realize that they're only getting what they deserve, it soothes a part of Silco's soul.

"No?" Silco repeats.

"What do you want?" Troy is pleading now. The sight of his old man's hand pulled behind his body, ready to be broken in half, causing him enough distress for tears to fill his eyes.

"We'll give you anything!"

"Troy!" Stephen wheezes out in retaliation. Silco looks at the golden nameplate on his desk and scoffs. Anything? This house wasn't in any impressive neighbourhood. The portrait maker had been shoddy in their cover-up. The trinkets had a fine sheet of dust across them and the books weren't kept in the best conditions. Their maid had been an old woman with her back hunched, making her shrink down to the height of a pre-teen. Tired, slow at work; not the best money could get.

They weren't rich by Piltover standards. It's why they go to the Undercity for their parties. Things were cheaper there and get even cheaper when you flash your badges.

"You've nothing I want." He says simply, making sure Troy felt that pit of dread consume him entirely.

"We didn't know, we didn't know he was yours" Troy squirms, but the thug above him with the lazy eye simply stomped down on him harder. Knocking the air out of him and making him bite down on his tongue hard enough it fills his mouth with blood.

"No, because all that mattered was he was a trencher and he'd rejected your money. So predictable."

Lock smirks as Silco jerks his chin again and begins pulling Stephen's arm the wrong way. He screeches like a sewer mouse. You find yourself coughing as you laugh, reaching a hand up to cover your eyes at the noises. The song kept playing, the contrast of its sweet melody and words to the scenario before you simply adding more fuel to your delirious humour.

"PLEASE!" The youngest son doesn't even try to fight when his enforcer badge does nothing to intimidate others. When he's in a room full of people who wanted nothing more than crush him, he tucks tail and shows off his underbelly.

You try to hear what Silco says next, but the headache begins to grow stronger and the blonde kid next to you panics when he notices your eyes fluttering close. "Hey," he hisses, drawing Ran's attention as they kneel by your side.

Their voices become a blur and unconsciousness beckons you so sweetly. As hard as you try to fight, you find yourself sinking into that dark embrace, floating into nothingness as the pain shrinks away.

There's an incessant purring next to you. Just under your left armpit, warm and comfortable. It's the only thing you can feel and hear, your senses still dulled. While your mind runs a million miles a second, your limbs feel heavy and locked; as if they'd turned into lead. You're trapped in your own mind. Your eyelids feel like bricks and as your eyes move under them, left to right and right to left, you feel his hand slip into yours.

"Easy now," that voice, that honeyed drawl. You breathe sharply through your nose and he squeezes your hand. "I'm here. Easy."

Silco lifts the darkness from your eyes and your vision takes its damn sweet time returning to you. You see him though. Shifting from a blurry figure to that face you adored so much. He offers a ghost of a smile, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he sees the wildness in your eyes tame itself. The damp rag across your eyes is placed back into the bowl.

"You're alright. The Doctor says your adrenaline just ran out," he pushes you down gently when you try to sit up. It was for the best, considering how much your body was aching. Not even in the sexy, satisfied, way. You wince, grunting when you fall back onto the mattress. The purring machine next to you lifts its head and you raise a brow at the furless cat. It yawns, looking a bit disgruntled at your movement but stubbornly staying put as it curls up.

Breathing ball sack aside, you ask Silco what happened.

"What do you remember?" he lets your hand go to squeeze out the water from the rag, wiping away the cold sweat on your neck. "You giving me your coat, then some girl squealing, but don't remember much after."

Your retelling makes him scoff, clearly amused. The sight of your bruised lips and face twists his mouth into a frown. "I should've been there sooner."

"Don't start with that, come on." You wince as your sides pulsed in pain, a boot shaped bruise already beginning to darken. "How'd you even find out about the Eriksons?"

"The kids were running down the Lanes barefoot and wet - " you gasp and cut him off.

"The kids!" You lurch up, the cat growling in discontent as it sprung up into an arched back pose from the sudden movement. Regret is instant and striking, your muscles screaming in pain and head pulsing once again. Silco steadies you by your shoulders, brows furrowing.

"Fuh - fuck, are they alright? He mentioned seeing them, Silco. Tell me those assholes are - "

"They're dealt with."

His tone makes you pause, you peer at him through your eyelashes. "Did you...?" he smiles but shakes his head.

"Him and his father are more useful alive. But a few bones were broken. He was in the academy with Sheriff Grayson's second in command, Marcus."

Silco leans in, pressing his forehead with yours. Uncaring of the dampness of your forehead or your hair. The tip of his nose brushes agaisnt your cheek and you flutter yours eyes at the feeling.

"So he's in your pocket?"

"I was worried," he dismisses the questions so blatantly you wring out a breathless laugh. "Your madame said she had a feeling who the enforcer was, if it weren't for her..."

"I would've been fine," you cup his marred cheek, allowing him to slip his arms around you. "I'm tough."

No, you're not, Silco wants to say. The fever you've developed from the stress and cold and the wounds on your body — you were a statue made off jagged metal but it didn't mean you couldn't get scratched, bent, melted. You would have survived but that didn't mean you should be going through such injustices.

"I plan on staying here until we're free," you promise to him as you slip your eyes closed. "I wanna see Zaun with my own eyes."

You feel him lean in closer and then his lips are on yours. Your brows knit together, the cut there stinging but you don't mind it. Silco kisses you like he wants to devour you. The heat he brings is like a glowing dagger; the silver steaming and glowing orange from the fire. Cutting you and cauterizing the wound at the same time. Painful, seeringly painful, but not deadly.

You part your lips, twisting your head as he clutches the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his hands making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, applauding him almost. You clutch at his vest, whispering his name as he tangles his tongue with yours.

Feeling you, holding you; Silco can't remember the last time he's felt this light and grounded at the same time. He was truly worried, you know. His heart dropping to his stomach when Deckard informed him about Vander's brats rushing through in complete panic. It was a random act of violence. Piltie's finest once again throwing their weight around.

You lean back and he chases. Your teeth clack together and you wince, so he kneads at your nape and lowers you back on the bed.

You should stop. This wasn't right. Your grip on Silco's vest loosens as you remember sweet Vander. Whose kisses felt like burning smoke going down your throat, filling your body with warmth that is entirely too phantom-like and too suffocating all the same. You shouldn't go further, you shouldn't. Silco slips a hand to your chest, pulling your thin blanket down and you wince, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. Silco and you pant heavily, the heat dissipating the longer you do.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head and assures you it's alright.

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. He's been looking for you. His accomplices too." Most patrons of The Last Drop had been anxiously waiting to hear your return. We take care of our own. Those just weren't pretty words. Benzo had told them to calm down, saying Vander will handle it but it was evident that a pin could drop and they'd turn over every little rock to find you.

Their respect for Vander's leadership is the only thing holding them back. It's holding you back too, he can tell. Ever since you'd moved in, you stray away from his touches. You've grown a sort of affection for Vander. Just like he had.

"Shit, I should head back then." Silco nods, helping you sit up. "The boy he says he's at the edge of the Lanes. Asking around."

It makes your heart flutter.

Ran looks you over when you walk up to them, a question in their eyes.

'You okay?'

"Could be better," you tell them. Dressed in an oversized shirt and your pants from earlier. They nod, reaching to slip their hand under your arm and you wince.

"Thanks for this and the save," they shrug and look ahead.

'Don't mention it.'

When you do spot Vander, your face brightens up. But Ran frowns, suddenly hiding behind a couple of crates. You don't quite get it until you see blue.

Vander was talking to an enforcer. Not just any enforcer either, the fucking sheriff.

"Grayson, I'm not askin' for much here," he growls out. She looks away, shaking her head. "You're not giving me much to go off on, Vander. The kids say he got taken by an enforcer for no reason in broad daylight but they can't even tell you any more details?"

"They were terrified, I'm sorry if they didn't come t'have a chat with 'em!"

Vander's muscles were tense, shoulders drawn and jaw clenched. He looked exhausted. His hair tousled from him constantly running his hands through them. The greys in his beard looking more prominent all of a sudden.

"Grayson, please."

Please.

He's begging for help from an enforcer.

You dislodge from Ran, giving them a nod as thanks before you limp towards them. The sound of your uneven footsteps makes their head snap your way. Vander whispers your name, then says it again with more volume as he rushes to hold you. He scans you, from top to bottom as he holds you in his arms.

"Shit, shit, you're okay." You're not, but your anger does calm the tiniest bit as he pulls you into a hug. Grayson looks at you and from over Vander's shoulders, you glare daggers into her. That fucking uniform, that breathing mask hung around her neck.

You still hear it. Vander pleading for help from her.

"Are you alright?" Sheriff Grayson says, coming close as Vander lets you go. You push him away, fists trembling as you walk towards her. Her eyes harden, lips pursing at your unrestrained strife.

"Screw you," you hiss, digging your pointer finger to her chest. "Screw everything you stand for."

Vander calls out your name, placing a hand on your shoulder that you shrug off. Even when your life had been in danger. Even when he could've done something. Vander remained a docile pet to Topside, begging for his masters help like a good lap dog.

Your lips tremble, tears filling your eyes.

"I'm here for you, (Y/N). If you could just tell me the name of the enforcer who'd done this to you, I can help you," Grayson tries to reason. Even when you were patched up, it was clear you'd been smacked around.

"It doesn't matter," you seethe out. "I just want to help, I can't if you don't tell me," you shake your head and walk past her.

"Fuck you."

"(Y/N)," Vander offers Grayson a glance but she shakes her head, turning away as he rushes after you. She watches the both of you, the anger in your posture so evident it makes her mouth twist.

Vander is quiet as you get inside the elevator. As it rumbles to life, you grip onto the railings instead of him and he tires to soothe you but you flinch away from him. "Darlin'" he places a hand on your shoulder and you spin, gnashing your teeth as you yell.

"Sheriff Grayson!? You went to her!?"

"What else was I meant to do?" He grits out.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!" you throw a fist at his chest, he lets you.

"I was fucking terrified, do you - do you know how fucked it was!? He grabbed me off the damn street! He fucking -" you inhaled sharply as your ribs screamed in pain. If you closed your eyes you could hear the thudding noise of his feet flying to your body.

Vander feels his heart drop and he tilted your head up. His large hand cupping your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You're running hot, fever returning as your emotions ran high.

"I was so scared, Vander." Your sob pierced through his chest. Nothing had compared to that pain of letting you down. Nothing. Not when the skin of his knuckles ripped apart or when enforcer bullets whizzed past his ears and made his hearing tune into a high pitched ring or when he'd been stabbed. He gathered you in his arms, despite your weak pushes and protests. He holds you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin, just holding you there.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Heads raised the second the doors opened. You blinked in surprise at the sight of the usual patrons. A blue blur rushed towards you and you grunted at her tight hug but smile down at her.

"Hey, Powder..." you pressed her face to your stomach, rubbing her back as she sobbed in relief. Vi approaches you next, showing a rare moment of softness as she slips under your open arm. Milo and Claggor rush in as well and you wince a bit but just laugh softly. Ekko sighed out in relief, Benzo's eyes softening at the sight.

"You all worried about me?" you give the patrons a coy smile that they scoff at but the relief was evident. "Cut the bullshit and stop smiling," Sevika says, crossing her arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Vander drapes his jacket around your shoulder. "Story for another time. How about some free drinks, yeah?" the mood lightens up a bit, despite the question hanging heavily in the air.

Powder is glued to you, sniffling as she clings but you don't mind. "C'mon, let's go down," you tell the kids and they nod. Milo rambles about what he'd done if you weren't caught off-guard. Vi shaking his head at him while Claggor just helped you down the stairs.

"He alright?" Benzo asks Vander when he comes around to the bar. Derek waves Vander away, pouring everyone a drink and Vander nods appreciatively his way as he sits. "No, he isn't" he confesses, glaring at the bottles of liquor, at his reflection in them.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!"

Benzo slides him his pipe and Vander simply holds it in his hands. The look in your eyes. That disappointment etched into every line on your face. The rage that flowed down your cheeks. Vander brought the apparatus to his lips, lighting a match and inhaling to calm his shot nerves.

"He'll be alright. He's the tough sort, yeah?" Benzo places a heavy hand on Vander's shoulder, tilting his frame down a bit. "He was scared, Benzo."

"He was scared and I couldn't do anythin'."

"Powder, I'm okay," you reassured for the fifth time in a row. You don't dare try to peel her away from you but you do make an effort to calm her trembling frame. Poor thing was shaking like a damn leaf as she laid besides you on her bottom bunk. Vi smiles wryly, just watching the scene with more emotion than a kid her age should have. Ekko peers down from the top bunk, asking if the cut brow hurt and you just scrunch your nose and laugh.

"Nah, come on. I'm not a wimp, Little Man."

Mylo nudges Ekko, echoing your statement in his own words. Claggor appears, holding a cup of some warm water and offering it to you. "Here, you must be tired," you thank him and hitch Powder up with you as you sit up a bit.

"You guys, I really am okay."

Powder just tightened her grip around you. All she could hear was the sounds of that scene. You sprawled onto the floor, half-dressed, bare foot; a fully armoured enforcer above you with his legs swinging back as you yell at her to go.

"Don't leave," she whispers against your stomach and you brush your fingers through her bangs. "I won't, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where are you four going?" they stiffen up, twisting their heads to look at you as you leaned against the railing leading to Vander's office and bedroom. You were dressed in a large shirt that reached your knees, eyes still puffy from sleep as you held a mug of something warm. Mylo gawks, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to find the words; hands coming to scratch the back of his head. Claggor just stiffens up like a board and Powder hides slightly behind him.

Vi lowers her hood, looking a bit smug. "A morning walk," she says cooly. You arch a brow, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. Last night had been a busy night for the bar, a few scuffles ignited because some dumbass didn't know when to cut himself off when he needed to. So Vander was fully conked out and you wanted him to take as long as he needed to recuperate.

"Mhm," you glance at each of their faces for a moment then sigh and close your eyes. "What's the job?"

Vi's shoulders fall. Damn you and your perceptiveness. It was unnerving how good you were at reading people at times.

"Little Man gave a tip," that woke you up a bit more. "You sure you can pull it off?" Vi nods firmly, her shoulders squaring confidently.

"We're ready."

"Stay safe and stay out of sight," they grin up at you and rush out through the back. Powder gives you a wave that you return before silence washes over the empty bar. You crack your neck, grunting as the satisfying popping noises echo then make your way down the stairs.

You prepare to set-up for the noon crowd. Leisurely moving around as you swept and wiped down everything. When Vander does lumbers down, he gathers you in his arms by wrapping them around your waist. Those damned arms. You swear his bicep was as big as your damn head.

"Mornin'" you chuckle as he rubs his beard to your cheek. "You weren't b'sides me, not a very good start" you roll your eyes at him, patting his arm so he lets you go and you can turn around to look at him.

"Kids awake?"

"They left to get breakfast," you turn and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling as he groans into it. "I made you coffee, c'mon. Gotta start the day right." Vander groans again, firmly cupping your ass in his hand and lifting you onto a table. You laugh, glancing at the windows but he simply blocks your body from view.

"If we're talking about starting the day right..." "Vander!"

"You said the kids are out, right?" You squeal when he brings his face to your neck, moaning as he kisses over the previous hickeys he'd left. He brings your crotches together and you chew on your lips as you feel his morning wood against your clothed cunt.

"Fine, let's start the day right." You feel him grin against your neck.

“Atta’ boy.”

Huck is chipper today. Greeting you with that flush on his cheek that never fails to remind you of a blushing maiden. "Closing that deal, Huck baby?" you asked, smiling sweetly his way. He sputters but nods, asking for a pint to sweeten the deal.

"Coming right up" Vander presses a hand to your waist as he walks behind you, asking if you could wipe down a table and you nod. Sevika bumps her knee to yours as you clean the table next to hers.

"Is he a damn vacuum?" she says as she eyes the hickeys on you. "You jealous, Sev?" her nose crinkles at your teasing but she doesn't deny it. She just laughs at it, turning her attention back to her cards. You lean down, making a grimace as your stare at her deck that makes the others start double guessing.

Who were they to believe? Sevika's calm expression or your grimace?

She huffs through her nose, watching your profile from the corner of her eyes. Though that's cut short by the tense scene in Huck's corner. You straighten up, brows furrowing as you watch it unfold.

Though everything goes smoothly once Vander sends them a simple message, something about that interaction makes your stomach twist. The news about an explosion happening Topside didn't help ease this pit of snakes and they only knot themselves into worse shape when the kids walk in.

Vander and you share a look as he walks to their room, you can't leave the bar unattended so you trusted him to ask. But this feeling just wouldn't leave you. When Vander pops back put with a sack over his shoulder and Claggor following behind, you slip out the bar to stop in front of your boy.

“Who did this?” Claggor shifts under your gaze, trying to cover his bruise with his hand. Pretending to scratch at his cheek. “One of us,” Vander answers for him. That brings up more questions than it does answers. So Claggor just shrugs.

“It was some blonde kid and his goons. Said something about us crossing his turf.”

You frown but let them pass after ruffling Claggor’s hair. Turning your attention back to the bar. The rest of the night goes by smoothly enough, a few verbal scuffs but nothing you couldn’t handle. When Vander returns, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’d Benzo say?” he tightened his grip then sighed. It was a heavy one and you make a questioning noise.

“What? What happened?”

Vander poured both of you a shot and silently handed you the glass. You take it but the frown does not disappear. He clinks your glasses then throws his head back, you copy his motion. Not grimacing as it burns down your throat, simply staring Vander down as that feeling in your gut worsens.

“They need their slab of meat for the explosion today.”

Deckard bumps into you as he gets escorted out by Lock. Who does not waste anytime in flirting with you: “Hey, hot stuff,” Lock calls out and you scoff. “Keep on dreaming, bud.”

“Every night, baby!” his reply makes you smile, shaking your head as you open the door to the lab. The squealing pink vines on the floor never failing to make you shudder as you avoid stepping on them. You know they’re not technically alive but you swear, every creak and whine this rundown factory makes is just these things making their way out.

“Ah, (Y/N),” your smile tightens. “Hey, Doc.” he shares a glance between Silco and you then walks to his station. In his own way telling you to just ignore his presence. Silco continues to stare at the rat cage, entranced at the squealing and yowling. The splatter of blood against the glass makes you flinch but you stand next to Silco and pale.

“What the hell is that?”

“An upper hand,” Silco traces the planes of your face with his eyes. The micro expressions you display — twitches, spasms, tugs. Even when contorted in disgust, you were a marvel. Especially when backdropped by the creatures of the depths. The speckles of light piercing through the water just add to your allure. He knows you’re not fond of his affections, not without feeling guilt, but he reaches for your hand and presses your knuckles to his lips.

You steel your emotions, expressions turning neutral. As if you could hide the way your lips quiver to hide that grin.

“Silco. Did you ask Deckard to jump my kids?” The softness of the moment is broken by the accusation. He lets go of your hand and glances at the savage rat tearing into the corpse of the cat.

“I told the boy to simply observe. I gain nothing from hurting them.”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms as you walk away from the gruesome view. You glance at the table, picking up the gun-shaped needle device, testing its weight in your hands.

“You doubt me?” You frown at the tone he takes. “No, I don’t.”

Because no matter how you spin it, Silco was right. There was no scenario where Deckard trying to beat the shit out of your kids gave him an upper hand in the grand scheme of things.

Silco watches your fingers tinker with his device. Lost deep in thought while you flip it over and trace your touch down every scratch or bump it had. It's on the tip of your tongue, he sees the way your jaw is clenched. How your shoulders are tensed up despite wearing that thick jacket, hood drawn up to hide your face.

A bitterness ebbs its way to Silco's rationale. That look in your eyes, that contemplativeness. It was doubt.

"I won't be able to give you an answer if you don't ask," he turns around to the underwater scene instead. The sight of you weakens him too much. Silco can't allow you to be a distraction, no when the pieces are falling just where they need to.

"There's nothing to ask." You place the device down and slip your eyes closed. No matter what he says, how he tries to reassure you; it wouldn't change what was already set in motion.

"You said the kids would stay out of it, right?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't look at you as he says it. His figure casting a long shadow on the scuffed floors of the lab and the hairs on the back of your neck pricks. The Doctor calls out your name and you reluctantly tear your eyes away from Silco to tilt your head questioningly at him.

"It's getting late. Best to get back before suspicions raise." The unrest was worsening. The Undercity folk have been walking on a tight rope made off steel for years now. The rope digging viciously into your feet, slicking up the material while you held your hands out to your side. This so called 'peace' that the Topsiders called it was laughable.

With how hard the enforcers were hitting now, that tightrope walker's knees were beginning to buckle as their blood gushes beneath them.

You openly glare at their masked heads, nails digging into the wooden crate of goods. Waiting for them to pass you before you stepped out from the tight alleyway. You worry for a moment about your kids. They were in a more secluded part of town, in their little hideout and you hope they're keeping their heads down like Vander had told them too.

A pair of boots appear in your vision, that obnoxious mechanical breathing lifting the edge of your hood. You scowl, lifting your head to glare into those bug-like lenses.

He says your name, you can tell his face is scrunched up as if even muttering it annoys him. You curl your nose, standing your ground. "What the hell do you want?" Troy scoffs, his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists.

"Just being thorough in my search, we're looking for four sump rats."

You glance over his shoulder, noticing a few other enforcers asking others who do little to hide their anger. Topside really doesn't know how much restraint it takes to continue this 'peace' and they still insist on poking the bear.

"A councilor's kid almost got hurt."

"So they need four kids to get their lick back?"

One kid almost got hurt and Topside is asking for justice. Yet they turn a blind eye to the kids who were breathing in toxins and starve day after day. Because it's never been about unity, it's about subservience.

Troy glances at your crate and you scoff. "Piss of, Piltie," you shoulder through him and Troy lets you. His fathers arm would never bend right anymore so he knew better than to put his hands on you again. But he still glared at the back of your head, burning holes into you. You turn, walking backwards and lifting one hand to flip him off before you make your way back home.

Sevika's voice is the first thing you hear when you walk in. You place the crate down, slipping your hood down and glancing at the small crowd of people. Vander regards you with a nod and you stand besides him.

"We should hit them back. We got the numbers to beat them." Sevika's words makes a few head nod, soft cheers of agreement echoing through the room.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." Another voice says, you cross your arms, leaning your hip against the bar. Sevika is looking right at you, tilting her head at the apprehension on your face.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, we all know how that ended." Vander is trying to reason with an angry crowd. An exhausted one. You do nothing to hide your frown at his words. He pretends not to see it.

"You're just protecting your kids," she retorts. A vein jumps in Vander's neck, his jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

His sentiments were noble. But the tightrope was beginning to tremble and the walker on top of it was now desperately crouched to grip at it with their hands instead.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight."

Vander stands and you feel a smidge of fear in your heart. He was pulled taut, all of this stress showing through the tightness in his posture. He towered over Sevika, a rumbling growl building in his throat.

"Do I look afraid?"

Sevika doesn't falter. She scoffs, meeting his challenging gaze with no issue.

"No. You look weak."

Marcus walks in with a purpose. His men following behind him making sure to puff their chests with each stride in. The Last Drop patrons find their fingers twitching, readying itself to grab at the blade near their hips. You level your gaze with Troy, he meets it head on and in a blink-and-you'll-miss motion he glances at the stairs leading down.

You straighten up, heart jumping to your throat.

Marcus' arrogance is like rubbing salt into an already festering wound. He doesn't need to say but he does it anyways and your little tightrope walker is now gone. Just two poles standing in the darkness, with no evidence of the rope or the walker ever existing.

You rush down the stairs, the door flying open and calling out for your kids. You instantly gather Powder and Ekko into your arms, checking over Claggor and Mylo while Vi talks to Vander.

"We need to fight back!" her fist slams into the wall and you meet Vander's eyes from over her shoulder.

Still.

Still, he remains stubborn. He tells Vi he has to show her something and you feel that same disappointment build in you. That day you saw him pleading for help from Sheriff Grayson after she had asked if the kids were truly getting their facts right.

Vander was too soft to protect anyone. Your heart squeezes at the revelation, but you numb yourself out to it. Even when Piltover was calling for the blood of your kids, he still deludes himself into this fantasy of peace.

He was weak.

You bring your lips to Powder's forehead, keeping Ekko close to you while Mylo and Claggor shift uneasily as Vi follows Vander out.

"Come on, help me close up early." Mylo and Claggor uncross their arms, nodding. You pull away from the embrace and cup Powder and Ekko's faces in each hand.

"Ekko, you should get back to Benzo's, it's getting late." He pauses but nods, so you stroke over the back of his head and press a kiss to his temple. "Enforcers are gonna be crawling all over, want me to drop you off?"

"No, I can be sneaky!" Ekko beams up at you and you return his grin, standing to send him off. Powder stands next to you, watching as Ekko disappears into the alleyways with an agility of a street cat.

"Why won't Vander fight?" she looks up at you, brows furrowed. "They're ruining everything. The enforcers. They threw a guy through a window, they're -"

"Monsters." You finish for her. She sees the scar running down your brow and inches close, so you wrap an arm around her. Man, she's grown like a sprout, limbs all lanky and awkward.

She couldn't grow up in a world like this.

"All of them are monsters," she whispers under her breath and your silence just cements this further into her brain.

"All of them," you continue.

When Vander returns with your eldest, he knows he's pissed you off. You won't meet his eyes, nursing a drink in your hand while you stare at a card in between your hands. He stands next to you and plucks your old business card from your fingers. It was wrinkled, yellowing with age and some words already fading. But your writing on the back remains.

'Come see again soon'

"Revisiting memories?" that was the theme tonight it seems. You'd slipped that into his jacket after he pulled off a drunkard away from you. Vander still remembers the seat you were sat in, what you were wearing, and that gleam in your eyes when you catch him staring at you for a bit too long.

He sits next to you and glances at the cast iron gloves. Those memories do little to make him happy. You take a swing of your drink, slamming the cup down and moving to stand. Vander calls out your name, grabbing at your arm to tug you in. You grunt when you land against his chest.

"You're pissed at me."

You roll your eyes at him, using your hands to push away but he does not relent.

"You honestly think we should go to war with Topside?" there's a bite to his tone. His patience with Vi had been in abundance, she was young and hurt. But out of everyone else, he thought you should understand him better.

"You want her to live like this her entire life? Keeping her head down and taking every beat down for a noble purpose?" You slur out, ripping yourself from his arms to grab at your coat.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive" his voice raised the tiniest bit but he restrains himself and it pisses you off more. You put on your jacket and he sighs. "Where the hell are you going?"

You smack his hand away, stumbling a bit as you turned to face him.

He wants to hear it. A scathing 'fuck you' or 'leave me alone, asshole'. But you just narrow your eyes at him, lips trembling as its set in that frown, then just shake your head and turn away to walk out.

You don't know where you planned on going. You let your legs carry you around, aimlessly wondering through the alleyways until you find yourself at a familiar backdoor. You push the heavy door open. The busy wallpaper and creaky floorboards give you more comfort than you expected.

"(Y/N)?" Doe blinks at the sight of you. She takes off her mask and you stare at her concerned face. "Are you okay?" you shake your head and lean in. Her eyes widen when your lips meet hers, she places firm hands on your chest and push you back.

"You're drunk."

You shake your head, cupping her face again and kissing her. She groans, murmuring your name before she bites down. You hiss, back hitting the wall as she shoves you. "You're with Vander." The reminder makes you laugh. You slide down the wall, putting your head between your knees as your tears well up.

Sevika thanks Doe for telling her where you were, crouching to grab a fistful of your hair to raise your head. Your empty gaze makes her sigh. You don't even fight when she slings your arm over her shoulder and lifts you onto your feet.

"The hell are you two taking me?"

"Silco's." Doe answers flatly.

Sevika feels you stiffen up. "I knew you hated them, but never figured you'd been working with him the whole time," she gruffs out. "Wish you would've told me about it sooner."

"Sorry, I'll be sure to invite you into my super secret group club the next time, okay?"

You're sober enough to be sarcastic without slurring words together. She just adjusts her grip on you and makes her way to the factory by the docks.

The Doctor greets you as Sevika drops you onto a chair. A dark shadow moves idly by the windows and you clutch at your neck as you crack it again. "Why am I here?" you mumble, pinching your brows. "To keep you safe."

You look at him through squinted eyes. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

You had no idea what had happened. Not Benzo's murder and not Vander's kidnapping. Call it luck or a happy accident, Silco doesn't care. He's glad you're not looking at him with an ounce of hatred, just simple confusion.

"Stumbling around drunk," he begins "late at night." He was worried you'd run away. Ran and Lock had looked for you at the bar, even asked around for you. Thankfully, Sevika had found you.

"I'm a big boy" you reply, leaning back in the chair only to smack your hand onto the edge of a table when you realise it was a stool.

"Sober him up," he tells the Doctor who reaches for a small jar on the shelves. "This won't make you sober," he tells you as he unplugs the cork from the top, you grimace and bring your face close. "But it'll wake you up."

The sharp sting that wafts up your nose makes you groan, backing away from his outstretched hand. Doe keeps you from falling backwards, steadying you while you making hacking noises.

Silco and Doe nod at each other. She's got you, he can trust her with this. He turns and Sevika follows in step. They step out, the door thudding close.

It was better to keep you away from this. You cared too much about Vander, he can't let you get distracted from the freedom that's right there. Shimmering like a desert oasis in front of him. Hate him if you must, but Vander had done himself in the second he decided to put on those handcuffs.

The hound of the underground was nothing but a lapdog now. He can't keep his people in check anymore, it's why they've turned to him instead. They need this. Zaun needs this. Vander will be known as a coward who ran away with his kids. Leaving the undercity to save his own skin, so his hands remained clean from anymore blood. Like the true coward he was.

You'll forgive him for this. You'll have to.

You're standing now, peering into the rat cage while Doe stared at the test tubes full of creatures on the shelves. Every time you even glance at the direction of the exit, Doe steps subtly in your way. He wanted to keep you in here? Seriously? You weren't that damned drunk.

You hear muffled voices from outside and as Doe picks up a test tube, you take your chances wrestling with her. She blinks in alarm, nearly dropping the tube as you suddenly dash towards the door. The Doctor stands as the the glass breaks and splatters green glowing liquid onto the floor. She calls out your name and you twist the handle open, slamming it closed in her face. She pounds on the door, cussing you out for being a bitch and you would've replied with your own string of colourful words but a body crashes next to you.

It's Lock. He groans, jaw loose and mouth bloody as he his head limply falls backwards. You notice the shadows from the bridge and look up.

"Vi!" she feels ice in her veins. She chances a glance down and yells out your name in confusion. Silco tightens his grip on the railing so Sevika whistles sharply. You yell as a few of her men try to grab you.

"(Y/N)?' Mylo repeats, his hands trembling even more. Vander's heart drops to his stomach but he snaps Mylo back into focus.

Why was she wearing those gloves? No, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?

"Silco!" you avoid a pair of burly arms, ducking away and bumping into the crates filled with Shimmer. "What are you doing!? You promised!"

He motions for more of his men to rush the bridge. Vi doesn't have enough time to process your words fully. She shakes her arms, cracking her neck as she prepares to fight. She must've misheard. She must have.

"SILCO!"

Your yells are making Vander's heart race. He can't see you. Only hear you. If Silco was ready to get rid of his kids just to ensure his control over the undercity, he doesn't dare to imagine what he'd do to you. Vi is determined, she cannot let her fathers die here. Not when she was the one who'd put them in this situation in the first place. These series of events, this domino effect all began from that damn explosion.

She can't let herself be orphaned again. She can't let Powder be orphaned again.

You continue to evade them, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over a few heads to put enough distance. When you reach the stairs, you yell out for Vi again. Silco doesn't dare look your way as you rush towards the bridge. He cannot get distracted. He can't.

Sevika grabs at you, her arm wound around your waist and you snarl. You aim your elbow at her head, making her flinch enough to loosen her grip. It still isn't enough though. Even then, she squeezes you like a damn snake.

"Let him go!" Vi growls out, adrenaline pumping through her veins. You dig your nails into Sevika, slamming your fist onto her arms while you struggle. Deckard watches this half-dazed, purple liquid oozing out from the corners of his eyes as he's bent over the railings.

"Ready to rise to the surface?" Silco holds the glass vial of Shimmer to his face. Deckard's breathing quickens and he downs it.

It happens quick. One second Deckard is just another boy and the next he's a monstrous figure rushing towards Vi. You yell, finally managing to elbow Sevika right in her face. She drops you and the second your feet are on the ground you sprint towards Vi.

You gather her in your arms and damn near skid to a stop once you past the threshold of safety. "The door! The door!" Vi yells, grabbing the handle and you help her. It slams close just in the nick of time, Deckard squealing from the other side as he pounds his fists so hard, it makes you and Vi bounce away from the door. You dig your heels in and grip onto the handle, sweat beading down your nose as you try to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! You alright?" you cuss under your breath but let out a breathless laugh.

"Never better."

Vander sighs, looking to Vi next. He feels the rush of cool air as Claggor finally makes a hole big enough for them to escape from.

"You did good, Vi."

She feels hope stir within her.

You don't remember what happens next. It's a fiery blur, only flashes of images bursting through every time you open your eyes to blink. The smoke was so thick and the metal door ontop of you was so heavy. Vi is crying.

Vi is crying and Vi never cries.

She calls for your name, her body trembling underneath you. When you wheeze, she sobs. Whether out of pain or relief, you can't tell. Ahead of you, you see the most horrifying sight.

Claggor. Mylo.

Dead.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive."

You brace yourself onto your elbows, straining out a yell as you try to lift yourself up enough for Vi to shimmy out. It groans above you, scraping against the floor inch by painful inch as you feel your eyes water. Vi calls out your name again, finally looking her age as she tries to crawl out.

What have you done?

When a hulking figure comes close, you yell in an attempt to scare him off. But it wasn't Deckard, it was Vander. Your Vander, with his veins glowing purple and his body nearly double its size. There's heat coming off from him, his rapid growth most likely putting his body through torture. You swear you can hear his enlarged heart as it beats like a war drum.

What have you done?

Vi finally crawls out and she turns to hold the door up so you can too. You stumble and kneel right in front of Mylo's outstretched hand, grasping at it while your other hand tries to dig him out.

"C'mon, c'mon baby. You're okay, you're okay." You sob, lifting your eyes to look at Claggor next and begin shaking your head. It was just ash and debris, he wasn't that pale. He was strong, he was your strong boy. You wipe away some of the dust from his face and choke back a sob when all he does is loll his head to the side.

"No, no, no. Claggor, Mylo."

There's a loud explosion. The building rumbles, the roof creaking as it sinks down. Vi is clutching at your shoulder, crying as she stares at her brothers. Vander gathers you both in his arms and flies through the escape plan. You scream, feeling the heat lick at your back.

Vander takes the brute force of the fall. Cushioning you and Vi as his last act of love. You hear it, his heart as it slows. You shake your head, looking down at him, cupping his face as rain descends onto you.

"Vander," Vi whimpers out.

"No, baby, please. I'm sorry," you brush your thumb over his cheek, one hand remaining on his chest. The shimmer was wearing down, his pounding heart begins to get slower and slower.

"I'm so sorry, Vander."

He leans into your palm, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness that you two were still alive. He'd always joked about dying, how he wanted to have you over him like an angel. And you'd always laugh, telling him he was ridiculous.

"Take care of Powder."

Vi screams next to you. You hang your head, sobbing as you hold his face in your hands. You press your foreheads together, kissing him one last time before you pull away.

"Vi, it worked!"

Who was that?

"Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally worked!"

Vi gets up and you turn your head to follow her. The sight before you is strange. Vi and Powder were fighting, yelling at each other but you can barely hear it over the rain and crackling fire.

Vi hits Powder and you shakily bring yourself to your feet. As Powder begs for her sister to come back, you stumble towards her. She turns to you, crying nonsensically about how she just wanted to help and you nod, trying to form words but your tongue feels like lead.

Silco finds her desperately shaking your shoulders as you sprawl out onto the ground. He sees your chest going up and down so he concerns himself with the girl.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your sister?"

Then the strangest thing happens. She lunges at him, brings him to his ass, but hugs him so tightly he's confused at her intentions.

"She left us. She's not my sister anymore."

Silco brings a hand to the back of her head, understanding just to well about what she was feeling. He glanced at Vander's grotesque body then at yours.

"It's okay. We'll show them. We'll show them all."

What have you done?

He knows you're pissed at him. Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. But Silco remains cool in your presence, standing in Vander's office, looking at the stack of papers. Stock intakes, accounting bullshit, Powder's doodles. You're sat on the couch, staring at your lap with a blanket over your shoulders. Powder's head in your lap as she twitches and sniffles in her sleep.

"You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I didn't."

You bring your hand over Powder's ears, glaring at him. Your face angled down, eyebrows so tightly knit he swears he sees a vein pop out on your forehead.

"You killed my sons."

"She did."

Your expression hardens. Powder shifts for a second and instantly your anger fades, you smooth out her bangs from her head and pat her back rhythmically.

"We share the blame, (Y/N). I didn't do this alone."

He sits on Vander's chair, reaching for his cigar. Vander's body hadn't even gone cold yet and here Silco was, already intending on desecrating his grave by smoking his cigars, as if intently chasing away the scent of Vander's smoking pipes.

You carefully move Powder, shushing her as she stirs and draping your blanket over hers to keep her warm. Silco watches, lighter in hand, poised to burn. You spin the chair, Vander's chair, and kick his legs apart.

He should be more cautious. Foxes are known to get close to their prey, associated with daggers and tricksters because unlike a wolf they couldn't use brute strength to bring down their enemies. You could choke him out, try to pin him down and reach for a pencil to shove through his eye.

But he uncrosses his legs and you sit on his lap. You reach for the box of matches, and strike it. Silco watches you watching him; the orange glow of the cigar not quite piercing through the darkness in your eyes.

"When Powder drinks from the bar, she has her own cup and metal straw. She likes to make gadgets, she gets restless sometimes and snoop around. She's smart, so you'll have your hands full."

Silco arches a brow, inhaling and exhaling out the smoke. Your eyes flutter, burning a bit but you can't even muster a single tear.

"You're offering to babysit?"

"She's my daughter."

You wrap your arms around his neck, your smudged and soot-stained face tucking itself to his neck. You could rip his throat out right now. But where would that leave you and Powder. Running from his men, constantly looking over your shoulder. No. You made your bed. You lay in it.

You said you wanted a better future for your kids. How could you rip Powder away from the only shot she has at being safe?

"I'd do anything for her." You shift your position, bringing your lips to his ears.

"I'll even keep your bed warm. I know you like how I do you."

Silco isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous you are; he hired you to infiltrate and gather information and for years you did just that. Now Vander was dead. You were as wicked as he was.

And now, you had every right to kill him next. So sleeping with you? Sharing a bed, and keeping you close where you'd have access to his operations. You subtly thrusting Powder into the fray, telling him about her needs and how to take care of her. Saying you'd stay if her safety was guaranteed.

This was a bad idea.

But Silco is intrigued. He'd thought you'd be yelling at him. Screaming bloody murder, wrap your teeth around his neck and try to tear it off.

Cunning little fox. You're planning something. Painful and meticulous. You'd make your revenge something people would whisper about as a warning.

He wants to see how far you're willing to go. He's glad that you share the same obsession with him as he does with you now.

Fine.

If the both of you were going to destroy each other, let it be known that Silco allowed it to happen in the first place; if you need to be broken down to be his, then he'll gladly place his chess pieces on the board with you.

Vander and Benzo's death shocks the undercity. You imagine people glancing at each other, confusion and lost written across their faces. Their protector was gone and in his place was the disgraced Silco.

But what truly sends people reeling is you standing besides him. You, Vander's boyfriend, the one his kids called dad among others. The slut that Vander had given a home too. Had given a job to and loved.

No, adored. He adored you, did you forget that?

He looked at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky.

How could you?

You fucking traitorous whore.

You had prepared for this. Steeled your emotions and walked among Silco's entourage with your head held high. Let them hate you, you know you deserve it. You expect the spit thrown your way, wiping it away with no emotion. You expect the harsh words, the cusses and threats.

But you're frozen in place when a man comes running at you, a knife held in his hand. You recognize him; a stall owner who Vander liked to do business with. Often trading fruit peels for this or that. He used them to do an array of things, though Vander recounts that he often used it as a way to smell fresh.

You smell it. That citrusy scent as he rears his hand back. "You whore!" he yells out.

Sevika kicks him square in the chest and as she leans too far back from the lack of balance (you think the loss of her arm was well-deserved) you keep her steady.

But it invigorates the crowd of grieving people. They throw things at you, trash and dirt at first. But then someone flings a brick and you barely dodge it in time before it smashed against your head.

Silco couldn't have people thinking that his entourage was weak.

So he brings you back to that walkway, the stalls now ransacked and the owners all kneeled before you. Hushed whispers come from the windows above you, children peeking curiously and mothers rushing them away.

These people were all Vander's friends. They did business with him, ate with him. You'd been there, eating with them. You glance away, sighing out a shuddering breath.

"Getting queasy?" Silco muses out.

"I've never been fond of butchers."

"Someone has to get their hands dirty. We can't all be expensive whores." You glare at him reproachfully.

"I want to leave."

"No."

Silco motions for Sevika and you scoff; "Look at you. Asking for another person to suck a John's cock for you. Expensive whore, is that what you called me?"

Silco gives you a tepid look, but then pulls out a dagger. He stares down at Vander's friends. Silco then stands behind them, bringing the blade to their throats. They look at you, nothing but pure hate in their eyes.

"You fucking traitor."