#he just wanted to see that girl he vaguely remembered

[lostsyren]

The problem I have with people disliking Sofia:

(ok maybe this is biased since I love her but I’ll try to speak from an objective perspective)

Most of the reasons I see for people not liking her (ignoring the people who feel jealousy over rafe/ownership over him because I can’t reason with that [he’s a fictional character touch grass I beggg/hj]) is either because she’s boring or annoying. (Or they simply just ignore her completely).

After season 3 I semi-understood those sentiments. She had like 10 minutes of screen time, a couple lines of vague dialogue, and to a casual watcher of the show, she was pretty forgettable. She was kinda boring, compared to everything else happening in the show, and it could be argued that she was annoying– overly flirty, intensely optimistic etc…(though that word irks me a bit, especially when talking about female characters). I personally didn’t think any of that, I loved her!! But it didn’t irrate me, (as much as it does now), when people didn’t like her.

Moving on to season 4 coming out and I was pleased with her screen time and her development. Which is why I don’t get the “Sofia is so boring” comments?

Her character is cemented as a direct comparison to Rafe. She’s good, kind, moral, sweet. And I’m not just saying that. We see her ire in s4x04 at the beach, she’s repulsed at the idea of “going behind her boyfriends back”, she helps Rafe unselfishly (giving him advice, prompting him to talk to Sarah, consoling him after Ward’s passing) and she loves her family. We see her character become fleshed out. Her arc is interesting, as she transitions from being a good, devout girlfriend, to betraying Rafe, then dealing with the clear guilt and departure from her morals.

Remember interesting doesn’t always equal loud, brash, combative. It’s disheartening to see people equate boringness to someone who is quiet, gentle, meditative. And even then, she isn’t a pushover. She still has strength. She doesn’t shy away from showing her disdain in s4x04 (I so wish we had the deleted scene), and when she feels attacked, she doesn’t just take it– she retaliates.

She’s smart too. More so than Rafe. She smelled Hollis’ scam a mile away. She’s astute– eavesdropping on the club goers conversation whilst she works to get the dirt on Groff and Hollis. She’s business savvy– there’s a reason why Rafe always goes to her for advice (and listens to it!!)

Her big heart is what leads to her downfall. She loves Rafe, despite all the rumours tied to his name. She sees him for what he shows her, choosing to believe him and have faith in him instead of listening to her rationale and staying away from ‘bad Rafe Cameron’. And I think that’s so beautiful.

You can like it or dislike it, but I don’t understand how it’s boring?

And then people calling her annoying– how?

‘Idk she just is I don’t like her’ – don’t want to be screaming misogyny like the boy who cries wolf, but sometimes you gotta call it out for what it is🤷🏽‍♀️Like Rafe is objectively more annoying.

And if you think she’d be more interesting if she was more ‘badass’ and ‘strong’ and ‘cooler’, like no offence (truly no offence) but it’s giving “2010s heroine, not like other girls, I can fight, I can sometimes be a bitch, I’m not a sweet bubbly girl– that’s disgusting” typa energy. Or if you wanted her to be more sexier, or have a maneater quality– that just seems really reductive and archetypal imo.

Like just because she wasn’t what you wanted/expected, doesn’t mean she was a bad character. Like yes could’ve been developed more, but she’s literally a side character in an ensemble cast– she got a lot more than all the other side characters.

Like people can create cool and in depth headcanons/lore/development for Barry (who I love! This is not an attack on him) but can’t for Sofia? And he’s only seen with Rafe. There’s not a lot of canon information about his life. Like he’s a drug dealer, he lives on the cut, he used to be in the army and now he catches fish on a boat. There’s no real arc for him, he supports Rafe’s story. Which Sofia also does, but she gets a family backstory, she’s seen interacting with characters outside of Rafe, she has an individual arc that affects only her and not Rafe– yet she doesn’t get that same fanon treatment. Instead she’s denigrated for being too boring, being too annoying, being too meek. Like female characters being held to a different standard to male ones makes me so upset.

(Idk this was a whole rant, if you disagree with me I’d love to hear you out. But I tried to be objective about this. Like yes it makes it easier for me to like her because I’m in love with Fiona Palomo, but in such a big and active fandom, it’s strange to me how little love she gets? Does the pre eminence of x reader fics contribute to this? Probably. Ugh idk I just felt like complaining tbh😓)

Like look at herrrr she’s a cutieeee

[reggieswriter]

The sun sets and the stars rise - Chapter 4

Warnings: Trans Regulus and idk what else

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Yes it's in Regulus' POV again idc

• Masterlist • Taglist • Synopsis •

It's his parents. They're smiling and laughing. It's odd. Like he's watching them in third person. They look younger. Happier. His mom doesn't have as many frown lines and in place has smile lines. Her hair even looks healthier with little graying. His father is different as well. His eyes look brighter instead of stone grey. Almost like they've both always been happy. Two children sit on their laps. They look just as happy if not more.

It's Regulus and Sirius.

Regulus can tell because of the gray eyes staring at him. The eyes contrast everyone else's demeanors. They're cold and empty. But it's only The little girl's eyes who are cold. The little boy is happy like everyone else. But Regulus knows it's his family because of the little girl. The little girl who yearned to be a little boy stares at him. Her eyes stare at him. Almost like she's seeing through him. His cold and icy facade. He's glass. He's fragile and transparent. Her stare starts to crack at him. To make tiny little dents and cracks at him physically until he begins to feel it physically. Full of agony that he can feel vaguely. Almost like the night he ran away but more distant.

Her eyes hold pity and for a moment he feels himself cracking until she breaks. She cracks. One large crack across her face and it slowly spreads like a sickness. He isn't cracking. It's little Luna Black cracking. Then so does everyone else. Like a picture frame shattering. It spreads everywhere until something starts to peek through. Light. Pure light starts to break through and it blends and bends through. Sunshine?

And suddenly he sat up back in his bed heaving in breaths. He's pouring swear and the sun peeks through his bed curtains. Why is he sweating? He's usually as cold as ice?

What the fuck was that dream? He hasn't seen that face in a long time. He had left that behind him a while ago so why was she popping up now? He was past this. Wasn't he? He had shoved her far down. He was past her? Right? What if-

“Regulus stop breathing so fucking loud I'm trying to sleep in”

The voice catches his attention immediately and interrupts his spiraling thoughts. He takes a deep breath and allows his mind to catch up before finally registering the identity of the voice. It's Barty. He sounds tired. What time is it?

“It's not my fault you and Evan kept me up.”

Regulus responds quickly. His response is technically a lie because he went to sleep early yesterday before everyone else but he knows Evan and Barty were up last night so it's close enough to the truth.

“Fuck off”

Barty grumbles his reply quietly before going quiet again. Regulus can hear the rustling of his sheets and a bit of groaning before he finally settles.

It's silent again and Regulus is sitting there in his bed quietly trying desperately not to zone out. His mind feels slow. Like a sloth. His nightmare dream isn't helping either. It's like his mind is still asleep but his body is wide awake. He remembers his dream clearly which is rare for him. It was odd. He could almost touch the people in it. He knew it was his family but it didn't feel like them. They were happy and relaxed. The opposite of his actual family.

He shakes out of his thoughts and begins to stretch and check the time.

9:40 AM

He slept in. That's odd. He never does that.

Luckily it's Saturday so he doesn't have any classes to get to but he's already missed breakfast and he's hungry. Perhaps he could sneak into the kitchen or he could wait. He doesn't want to wait but maybe he should.

Yeah he's not going to wait.

He begins to crawl out of his bed moving aside the curtain and gets ready for the day quietly while Evan begins to finally wake up next to Barty.

His movements are slow and sluggish for a moment before Evan crawls out if Bartys bed and starts getting ready with him silently.

They work fluidly with each other, passing each other clothes or jewelry when needed. They've had enough practice over the years that by the time Barty is actually up and moving Regulus and Evan are quietly chatting and waiting for him to be ready. They always wait. It's just something they do to show they care.

While Regulus talks or more so listens to Evan talk to him about how their day is going to go and what the newest gossip is at Hogwarts he can't help but get distracted and wonder how James’ morning might be going. Is he up already? Did he sleep in as well-

Wait…

Why is he wondering that? Why would he wonder how Potters morning is going? I mean maybe his brother's but Potters? He needs to focus on more important matters. Like his tests coming up or….okay maybe he could figure out why Ja- Potter was having his little meltdown and then he can continue with his life and understand why he has a dream of that little girl.

Easy.

But he'll play today easy. Then tomorrow he can figure out how the hell he's supposed to figure out why James- fuck. Potter had his meltdown.

Right? Yeah of course.

Can his life be easy?

No it can't be. But he could hope couldn't he?

“And so Rebecca or whatever the fuck her name is slapped her! No Wanda or anything! She actually slapped her and then-”

Oh yeah. Evan is talking. He needs to be more in the moment. He'll relax with Evan and Barty for now. Just for today. Yeah. That's his plan.

Taglist: @aesthetic-writer18 @sweetest-thing-in-hell

[ryukolighter]

Pov Percy, in SON, unable to beat the greek allegations, this boy was walking around with "GREEK" written on his forehead fr

[harrowscore]

i think i finally found a semi-famous (?) blog that blocked me lmao

[botseeksbot]

your tags on the Fables comic post SO TRUE KING..... I remember thinking how bizarre it was that Snow White goes through a very terrible situation with repeated SA and then is just like . Okay with what happened between her & Bigby & essentially being like "I don't like him and I don't want these kids" then has this mini tirade about how abortion is beneath her like WHAT? Also the writer literally cannot go 8 pages without mentioning Snow White's piss, the comics are fucking BAD dude

did not even like finish reading them back when i tried them OR when i tried them again this year . i think i literally stopped like around the whole "Snow & Bigby Have Hypnotized Sex" debacle bc i was like . yeah im not doing this . its just like . so so bad its like comic misogyny but make it worse somehow . everyone say thank you telltale for deciding that this is not the way and basically rewriting everyone's character

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise��� it is so. Interesting to me.

[shotmrmiller]

kyle asking price and johnny what's up with simon having his earbuds in and phone in hand the moment they touch foot on base because before last week, he hadn't even known simon had a phone.

how did you think he got in contact with people?

i just figured he didn't.

anyway, price just shrugs and says, "gotta new girl or somethin'." johnny nods absently, lips twisted in thought.

"somethin' like tha'."

sure enough, come dinner time he can hear a higher pitched voice carrying a sense of urgency or excitement, he can't make out which it is, words coming out in a rapid fire manner.

accent is distinct too, colloquialism that hints at a different region or even country, peppered with slang he's only ever read online.

curious but it's nice to know someone's come to get to know the big man past his rough (and he means bloody rough) exterior.

he quickly tunes it out after, of course, not wanting to intrude on personal matters. but then it's a rare moment when simon's without them.

kyle manages to get snippets then.

(hey, love, just making some dinner; your favorite, actually. shrimp pasta alfredo.)

price taps him on the shoulder and he turns away, snapping back to reality. in the back of his mind, he vaguely remembers simon having an aversion to seafood.

he must be remembering wrong.

in the debrief room while they wait for price, he catches another.

(actually just finished unpacking the last of my stuff. you were a real help with this, i would've hated having to pay for movers.)

kyle recalls seeing simon haunting the hallway as per usual. he must've taken a time off.

on the way to the local strip club. why simon's there at all is a choice but his relationship with you is none of his business.

(yeah, uhm, i'm home and i checked the windows and bathroom like you taught me too. i still can't shake that feeling, yknow? i don't mean to worry you.)

since simon isn't talking to them about it, he must be getting rid of that issue soon. good on him. at least one of them gets to go back to a warm home and a soft pair of thighs.

(kyle doesn't question the other male voice in the call. nor does he question why simon isn't saying a word during it. simon's relationship with you is none of his business. he just hopes he'll get an invitation to the wedding.)

[gor3-hound]

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

taglist

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[luveline]

hi honey bun! i was just having a thought about someone coming home after a night out, a little drunk and sleepy, just crawling into bed with the reader? n maybe trying not to wake her w cuddling and such? 🥺 im so indecisive and couldn’t choose between peter or one/poly marauders, but please also feel free to disregard if it’s not the one for you! kisses xx

Sirius tries to tell them to be quiet, but James is so drunk he’s going to wake up amnesiac and Remus isn’t far behind him. Sirius has a kinder buzz, opening and then closing the door for his idiots begrudgingly. “Shush. You’ll wake her.” 

“She should be awake I miss her so much I’m gonna throw up,” James says, all in one breath. 

“That might be the Guinness,” Remus laughs. His cheeks have gone pink. Sirius thinks it’s the cutest Remus has ever looked, and he gives him an affectionate smile that’s returned tenfold. 

“Be quiet,” Sirius says. A yawn comes suddenly. “Go sit down and have some toast or something.” 

“I definitely will throw up then,” James groans, bending over in the middle of the hallway. 

Remus, despite being similarly belligerent, starts doting on him. “You okay?” he asks, bending down with a similar sigh of pain. “Come on. I’ll make you a– a glass of water.” 

Sirius has spent the night with them, so he loves them, but he misses you too much to stay. He chucks his shoes vaguely in the direction of the shelf and starts up stairs. The walls move under his hand and the bedroom door proves hard to open, but he sees you and forgets that he’s drunk. You’re laying on your side curled into a pillow, arm curled around, one leg sticking out of the quilt. 

Sirius pulls the blanket back gently, remembers he’s wearing jeans, changes out of the jeans, and slides into bed in front of you. He slowly, slowly, pulls the pillow from your arms, wrapping his arm under yours and behind your back, the other just shy of your face. Beautiful girl, he thinks, a little woozy from having suddenly changed directions. 

You mumble and hug him weakly, fingertips tickling his side. 

“For fuck’s sake!” James says somewhere downstairs. “What is this?” 

“Water, Jamie,” Remus says, quieter. “You can’t have anything else, don’t be–” A sound and a laugh. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind.” More laughing. 

Sirius tugs your hand up to smile into your palm. 

“Home?” you mumble. 

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closed and heavy but his arm awake behind your back, pulling you closer to his front. “I told them to be quiet… didn’t listen.”

“You…” you’re still stuck in the throes of sleep, and forget you’re talking. Sirius laughs a huff and you blink. “Okay?” 

“Yeah. Everything was okay. Next time I’ll stay home with you,” he promises, rubbing his nose into your cheek. 

“I liked being alone for a bit, but… missed you in the end.” 

Footsteps start up the stairs. “Sorry for waking you up,” Sirius says. 

“S’okay. Make them be nice to me.” 

That’s easy. As the door begins to open, Sirius pulls you right into his chest, as close as you can possibly be, and shushes you gently. Remus’ laughing swiftly ends, and James says, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” in his softest tone. 

James climbs over the bed still in his shoes. Remus grabs him before they can touch the sheets and takes them off, and then James crawls up behind you and hugs you, Sirius’ arms included. “Hi… my angel.” 

You ignore him with a disgruntled whine. 

“Sorry we were so loud.” 

You whine again. 

“Do you want Remus instead?” 

“No. I don��t not want Remus,” you clarify. “I’m not mad at you. Stay here.” 

Remus falls rather drunkenly in behind Sirius, forcing everyone to move over. You look for him in the tangle of arms and blankets, everyone Sirius loves rammed into one bed and exhausted. 

“Is anyone in the mood for a kiss?” James asks.

“Too tired,” you mumble. 

“Too far away. Make it up to you in the morning,” Remus says into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius is having a hard time following the conversation, distracted by the smell of your perfume and all the skin pressed to his. 

James sighs forlornly. “Fine.” A pause. “Sirius?” 

He snores. 

[foone]

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked into him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Santa Tell Me

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ featuring: franco colapinto, lewis hamilton, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, and oscar piastri

♥ synopsis: christmas traditions/activities with the drivers

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and vaguely suggestive content !!!

♥ a/n: second day of ficmas !

❅ ── 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒐 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐

-your boyfriend Franco has zero pr training and is pretty chronically online. unfortunately for you he came across one of those tiktoks of a girl dressing herself in wrapping paper to the Santa Tell Me lyrics: "oh I wanna let him unwrap me, get on top of him by the fireplace" and suggested you should do it.

"you look amazing mi amor" he laughed as you stepped out into the living room. you were dressed in wrapping paper with a white bow tied around your waist, per his request. once the video was done recording Franco slipped his hands onto your waist, crinkling the decorative paper in the process. "¿Deberíamos hacer lo que sugiere la canción?" (should we do as the song suggests?) he asked while biting his lip and looking between the couch and the fireplace. "this was the only reason you wanted to do this, wasn't it?" you raised a brow. "(eh)...si," he smiled causing you to laugh.

-speaking from personal experience, a latino family christmas can be a huge event. be prepared to meet family members he doesn't even know himself

-KING of joke gifts. probably gets you a duolingo premium membership and his own merch

❅ ── 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔 𝑯𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒐𝒏

-gives you the most thoughtful gifts you've ever received. whether it's expensive or not; he'd buy you a planet if he could.

-christmas vacations are a must. you travel everywhere you can in every break. bonus points if roscoe can tag along.

-to lewis christmas is all about giving back. donating to charity, helping out with F1a, and of course, building bee houses.

-seb added you to a small group chat called “family christmas” and invited the two of you over for holiday. they really did see you as family (or maybe his kids just wanted to see your dog)

❅ ── 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄

-the Leclerc family Christmas will definitely be something you look forward to in the future. all the mismatched colors clashed in the most harmonious way the minute you stepped through the door. the tree was covered with ornaments, two red ferrari ones front and center, and there was enough ribbon to fill a small isle in a craft store

-they even had a stocking with your name on it

-you were probably forced to wear a matching ugly christmas sweater for family photos

“alright,” pascale said, shooing everyone from the frame. “one with just the happy couple!” “maman…” charles sighed with a smile, shaking his head. “charles! we’re making memories here!” “yeah charles, we’re making memories.” you giggled.

-after the holidays you most likely took a longggg vacation with pierre and kika

❅ ── 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒛

-expensive expensive gifts. channel, LV, dior? you name it he got it.

-you told him it was such a sweet gesture but you didn’t really need all of those luxuries.

-in response: remember that pink thong with chilli's that valtteri gave to him? yeah, this christmas he gave that to you.

-in all seriousness he loves the winter break. his love languages are physical touch and quality time, so you can guarantee he’ll spend as much time as possible with you. tons of cuddles and his phone will definitely be on silent.

-christmas dinner? no no no, christmas pancakes.

❅ ── 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒔

─ lando is much more hot girl summer than winter bimbo so the two of you probably spend a lot of your winter in sunny areas like ibiza.

-for the week of christmas eve however he flew the two of you back to England in order to do all those classic winter things.

-gingerbread houses! except he’s probably eating all the frosting behind your back AND eating the house as you make it.

“lando!” you gasped dramatically as he broke off a side of the gingerbread roof and bit into it. “what?” he laughed. you peered inside the open house, two tiny cookie people inside. “you’re destroying their home.” he grabbed one of the gingerbread men and bit off its leg with a taunting smirk.

❅ ── 𝑶𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝑷𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊

-you forced him to listen to justin bieber’s christmas album while you decorated the house and had a heated argument over whether home alone 1 or 2 was better

-if your not oscar’s close family, you cannot reach him during christmas. he’s spending time with the people he loves, therefore he’s off the grid (pun intended)

-ice skating king. he’s honestly shockingly good at it despite not not doing it often. he’s definitely that one guy who can do all the tricks

-like lewis, he gives the most endearing gifts ever. he’s the most wholesome boyfriend

-dressing up his dogs together! you got them these soft sweaters and tons of christmas treats for them. it resulted in the cutest pictures and even a feature on @albon_pets

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[iclarye]

Good Looking

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: your plan was quick and simple. you would go to the kitchen, make some tea to ease your headache, and then return to your comfy bed. you weren't expecting to come across your crew's blonde cook barechested cutting carrots.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ content, smut, swearing, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, cunnilingus, semi public sex, PIV

authors note: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. read this fanfic on ao3: good looking. enjoy!

You are used to this. The utterly exhausted sensation after several hand-to-hand combats, so when the headache started when you finally lay down in bed, you just decided to ignore it; the sleep would catch up before it got.

Until the needed sleep never got you. So, after an hour or two of rubbing your temples and staring at the ceiling while feeling envy-induced annoyance for Nami’s peaceful breathing, you pushed yourself to stand up.

Even if the cool night air almost makes you wish you hadn't left your warm bed, you needed that green tea to stop the pounding headache in the back of your head. The kitchen lights shining through the window went undetected as your mind was busy figuring out how you could prepare the drink quickly so that the pain could cease as soon as possible.

“Oh, it’s you, darling. Is everything alright?” As you walked into the door and recognized Sanji's words, you snapped out of your thoughts and began to look over your surroundings. He was not wearing any type of shirt while he sliced carrots from behind the counter.

Barechested. Topless. Half naked.

“Y-yes, I mean, no. Just a headache.” You gaze the blonde in the eyes as you stumble through your sentences, you are merely vaguely aware that your face is beginning to turn red. “I just want that green tea, I know it's somewhere around here. I saw Nami storing it in the cabinets earlier.”

You felt foolish. You became used to seeing shirtless men given that you lived in the middle of the ocean and therefore often came across Luffy, Usopp, and even Zoro barechested. They would often walk around the deck that way on hot days. Sanji, however, always showed up in a suit or, at the very least, had a formal shirt rolled up to his elbows. Even so, there was no chance of seeing him dressed otherwise since he went to sleep after you and woke up before everyone.

“I can do it for you, it’s my job after all, taking care of my sweet girl.” He placed the knife down, threw the chopped carrots in a nearby pot, and proceeded to go through the cupboards. “Love, do you remember where she stored it? There are plenty of cabinets in this place.”

"What are you doing here?" You instantly regret your tone as you noted Sanji just froze in his search.

“I mean, sorry, the kitchen is your place, I know. I just never saw you here this hour, and me and Luffy go here to do midnight snacks sometimes”

“I could not sleep”

“Me too” Once again, an irrational remark. He was informed that you were having trouble falling asleep, that's why you were there. “Why the carrots?”

“The attack that happened today. I had hoped for more food, but I believe you are aware of how fucked our situation is.” He continued looking for the tea while chuckling flatly. “We don't know when we will receive more supplies; we right now have barely anything stocked. Even the carrot peels have been put to use in an effort to reduce waste, you know.”

You weren't sure how to respond. It was clear that everyone's mood was negatively affected by today's incident. The worry of what would happen in the next few days or weeks was filling your head since Usopp managed to escape the ship. His back was to you, so you were unable to see his facial expressions, but you couldn't help but notice his muscles.

You felt a little guilty since you couldn't take your focus away from it, despite him having just voiced some serious concern. Has he lately started working out, or has he always had muscles like that?

“Are you and Luffy close then?”

The sudden break in silence confused you as he turned toward you with the pot of tea in his hands and a pleased smile.

“I suppose so. After all, he was the one who invited me to join the crew, right?” You smirked at the thought. It wasn't much time—perhaps a few months—and you were losing track of time at sea. “I fearlessly agreed to become a pirate, although I had never spent more than two weeks on a boat.”

“I remember that. You were so naive”

Of course he remembers. When you joined the crew, it was very easy to have a conversation with Sanji, he was constantly complimenting you or flirting in a straightforward manner. You never took him seriously, hearing about the blonde's techniques from Nami from the first day, but it was often hard not to chuckle or blush when he was so…

“Not anymore.”

He grinned at you before returning his attention to the tea. It was impossible to look away from his bare chest. You were unable to rest your mind from imagining how his skin would feel on your hand now that he was in your line of sight. You are already aware that he's a good-looking man, but now seeing more of his body did things to you.

“All right, madam. Here is your tea.” He circles the counters until he's right next to you. Really close. His eyes twinkle with recklessness, and you know he caught you staring at his figure.

You ignore the tickle in your lower belly as you stand there, grab the mug in your hands, and sip while gazing at his face. He still has that typical smirk, and when you finally finish drinking your tea, he glances at your lips before returning to your eyes. Everything becomes fuzzy and hot then.

He's very close. His hand has been lying on the counter, his chest is nearly brushing your own, and you can't help but notice his modest, almost transparent blonde hair in there. Perhaps it's a sign for you to walk away, that this is going in a dangerous direction, but you can't.

“What dear? See something you lik-”

You interrupt him with a kiss. It's all very messy and quick, and he is unable to have time to handle everything. You come to an abrupt halt and stare at him with wide eyes, realizing what you have done.

“Sanji, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant t-”

He didn't let you finish the apologies. His hand pulls your head back, bringing your lips together. The kiss looks right now. It begins carefully, with both sides cautious, but it quickly gets heated as he doesn't hesitate to push his tongue into your mouth.

You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, and his eyes are hungry. He didn't think twice before pressing his open mouth and tongue on your neck. A moan escapes from your lips.

His left hand shifts down to grab your hip, and you catch your breath. Your hands graze his nipples as you reach for his pecs, and he hisses at the fresh sensation in your throat.

“Gods Y/N, you’re going to kill me this way”

You chuckled, and he kissed you again, although this time you took charge, moving one of your hands to his blonde hair before tilting his head to grant you more access. You stop the action just to take a moment to recover and gaze into his dilated pupils. He looks so attractive like that that you can’t help but want to go down on him.

”Sanji,” You whisper breathlessly, enjoying the sensation of his name in your mouth, “let me taste you.”

He groans in response, which you take as encouragement as you lean down and proceed. You lick and kiss the trail that leads to his crotch, and he hisses softly, his abdomen tense beneath your hands and mouth. As you get down on your knees and look at his pants, you can see his erection, which seems big and marked.

You don't hesitate to pull down the waistband of his pants and boxers together, exposing his hard, leaking cock to your eyes. It's big. It's more than you expected. There's a buildup of cum at the head, and you reach forward and wrap your lips around it, licking gently just to tease.

You look up as you swirl your tongue over the tip and dip your tongue into the slit to see him biting his lower lips, his head thrown back. You wanted to see his face while sucking him. So you take him out of your mouth and cautiously wrap a hand around him, teasing him a little with your hand. Your movements are agonizingly slow as you lightly suck and lick the sensitive head until finally he looks down.

“Oh, darling, you’re so pretty like that.” Sanji whined above you, and then your mouth opened around the head of his cock, and he slid it into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck. So… so perfect.”

You can clearly see the blonde struggling to keep his composure, like how his knuckles are white while gripping the counter behind him. You relax your throat, take a long breath through your nose, and exhale slowly before swallowing him whole while gripping his inner thighs.

His penis is large, so the initial sensation isn't the most pleasant, but as he lets out a loud groan, you forget about everything. Something about hearing Sanji whine in the kitchen while you gagged on his cock made the aching between your legs unbearable.

"Oh yeah, You are so good to me. Your mouth feels so good in me.”

You moaned softly at his words of praise, making vibrations around his penis, causing another moan from him. His left hand reached from the counter to your hair, and you didn't reject the help while bobbing your head up and down.

“My love, you are so perfec-“

A few tears occasionally escaped as you sucked him and he fucked your throat, sometimes only taking him out to run your tongue along his length. You started to see signs that he was close to cum. One of your hands left the thighs to rub his balls.

 “I… I'm going to cum, Y/N, dear... I" He gives you a chance to pull away from him, but you choose to continue and accept it all. You remove the entire length of his throat and leave just the head in your mouth.

He comes soon after, with a muffled groan, while you attempt to swallow as much as you can before it gets difficult, followed by a satisfied moan coming from you.

You felt his hand leave your hair, and for two or three minutes, you just remained there. He has his head back and is trying to catch his breath while you are on your knees, glancing at his chest and the beads of sweat gathering on his neck. It’s a perfect vision, honestly. You ponder whether he would notice if you began to masturbate right then.

“Come on, madam, let me help you up.” Sanji extends his hand to support you in getting up, and once you are upright, he grabs hold of your waist to keep you close to him.

He kisses you, tasting himself in your mouth. It's slow, and you realize he's still trying to emerge from his afterglow. When he breaks the kiss, that smile returns to his face, and you peck him once more just to get rid of it.

Sanji deepened the kiss again. And fuck, what else could you do but reply in the same aggressive way?

You're hoisted up by the hands on your hips and thrown onto the counter. The blonde is now between your legs, breaking the kiss, only to go straight to that specific spot on your neck that you're almost certain will leave a mark in the morning.

“Oh- Sanji,” You try to speak breathlessly as he licks your collarbone and his fingers brush the hem of your t-shirt, “You don’t h-have to do that.”

It wasn't that you didn't want Sanji. Since you entered that kitchen and spotted him without a shirt, you wanted this. Yet, you took the decision to give him an opportunity to back out, be thankful for the blowjob, and never bring up the matter again. Him taking you would be very personal.

“Please, my love,” You can hear the yearning in his voice as he whispers in your ear. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

You nod, and he attacks your mouth once again while his hands pull the hem of your t-shirt, exposing your chest, and you can't stop yourself from moaning at being so bare to him.

He doesn't think twice about placing his mouth on your breasts as he rolls the hard bud between his teeth and tongue and gives the other one a gentle stroke with his other hand. He bites your nipple as your head is flung back, and all you can do is pray that no one hears your loud scream.

He takes his mouth from your breasts and begins a trail down your stomach, and you can't stop whining due to the lack of warm sensation from his tongue in your niples, but you quickly figure out where he's headed as he lowers himself between your thighs.

He doesn't ask for permission as he aggressively rips off your shorts and, along with them, your underwear, revealing your pussy to him. He pulled your hips closer and dragged a finger down your folds, then placed it inside his mouth.

"Oh, you're so soaking wet, just for me, hm?" You are so stunned by the sight that you hardly pay attention to what the blonde is saying. “You taste so good, my darling.”

You stand on your elbows and glance at the man who is standing in between your legs. You can't help but gasp at the taunting as he starts giving you small small bites and kisses along your inner thighs. But you want him now.

“Oh Sanji, stop teasing for fuc-“

He didn't wait for you to finish the curse word before burying his face, pushing his tongue against your wet pussy, and licking a long, temptingly slow strip through your folds until he reached your sensitive bud.

In an attempt to create more friction, you thrust your hips into his mouth, and your left hand immediately settled on his blonde hair. Sanji found the ideal pattern to swirl his tongue over your clitoral region, leaving you panting for air.

He pushed two fingers deep within you, and you felt your walls clenching around them, sucking him in. His pace was fast, and he was still paying careful attention to your clit, leaving you close to the edge. You were a mess, and it wouldn't take long for you to cum. Yet you still needed him; you wanted more.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tried to block out the inappropriate sounds echoing through the kitchen.

“Sanji, p-please more”

"Use your words, my angel." You could see the glistening fluids from your pussy plastered on his chin when he pushed his head off of your thighs. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me, oh g-gods. I need you inside me." At your words, he groaned and took both of his fingers out to direct his cock at your entrance.

It wasn't difficult for him to enter since you were so soaked. At the feeling of it, you both simultaneously moaned. You felt completely filled; he just stood there for a while, waiting for you to get used to the size, until you signaled for him to start moving. It began off slow, but soon he started out moving his hips at a faster pace to satisfy both of you.

"You're perfect,” he moaned in two thrusts, and you had to put your hand over your mouth. “Look at you, taking my cock so well, oh darling.”

The hands on your hips let go and grabbed you under your right thigh, opening your legs and hitting you more deeply and faster. You thought you were seeing stars when he hit an exact spot inside your pussy that made you shout.

“Cum for me, my love. I know you want”

It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit you after that, your eyes rolled back and you let out a whine sound as you felt your walls squeeze his dick. He moaned along with you at the feeling and a few more thrusts and he came inside you.

Sanji's head fell directly to your shoulder, and you instinctively placed your palm in his blond locks. While the fluid was slowly dripping out of you, he continued to remain deep inside and breathe loudly.

He raised his head only to smile recklessly while glancing into your mouth. “So, do you still have a headache?”

Your hand reached out to push him, but you were helpless to suppress the giggles that came. He drew away from inside you but was still between your knees as he chuckled proudly.

“Do you think anyone heard?”

“I'm not sure, maybe when you let out that screa-" You slapped him on the shoulder to cut him off while embarrassed because of the probability. “Ok, ok my darling, next time we’ll find a more private place.”

“Next time, huh?

Sanji stood still with an anxious smile on his face; it was almost hilarious how someone so confident in themselves would respond in that manner. You wrapped his neck with both of your arms and gave him a quick kiss to reassure him that everything was fine.

"You should come to the kitchen more often, preferably alone.”

"And you should go shirtless more often too.”

"Only for you, my love.”

You gave him another kiss before leaving the counter, getting ready to go, and returning to the bedroom. Even though the night seemed to be becoming lighter, you were aware that there were still a few hours until sunrise. It was evident that there would be plenty of issues to address when you awoke, but for the time being, you were content, even though you were a little exhausted from the activities. As sleep came, all you could think of was Sanji and his smile.

© iclarye, 2023

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris has the idea of doing the famous TikTok trend "fighting my girlfriend in front of my brothers" with Y/N, just to see Nick and Matt's reaction.

WARNING: Fake fighting, yelling, crying.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical sunny Sunday afternoon. The family of four were at home, enjoying the weekend to relax after their recent trip to Boston.

Nick and Matt were in the living room, playing video games on the big television, loud sounds of car and guns accompanied by laughter and swearing echoed through the large room; while Y/N and Chris were in the kitchen, the girl cooking lunch for them while her boyfriend was leaning against the closed refrigerator, enjoying the light cold that the stainless steel surface provided for his body.

His hands were holding his phone, where he was absentmindedly watching videos on TikTok, scrolling mindlessly, his blue eyes occasionally looking up at his girl, watching her with passionate and careful eyes.

Y/N was cutting some vegetables when Chris quickly approached out of nowhere, surprising her by suddenly touching her back, a wide smile already resting on his face.

"Babe, look at this!" The brunette shouted in a whisper, raising his right hand and resting his cell against his own palm so that the screen was facing Y/N, touching his thumb to the softly lit surface.

Y/N put down the pointy knife momentarily, focusing on the video on low volume that showed a couple pretending to fight each other over something silly in the presence of the boy's parents, apparently waiting to see the reaction of the elders. She had already watched some similar videos on her own app, vaguely remembering the new and already very known trend.

Her confused eyes looked up at her boyfriend's face after the video ended and went back to the beginning automatically, seeing him already looking back at her with a euphoric gaze.

"That's cool, baby, but what does it mean?"

Chris explained his plan in detail in a hushed tone, keeping an attentive eye to his brothers, not wanting them to see his actions.

He would go to their room to "get something" and seconds later, he would go back upstairs pretending to be furious, holding a broken mug that he would also pretend that was his favorite. He would accuse Y/N of breaking the dishes and say horrible things to her in front of Nick and Matt, all to see his brothers' reaction.

"Do you think this is a good idea? What if they take it too seriously?" Y/N watched him explain in detail, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a light grip momentarily, feeling hesitant.

"Relax, it'll be so cool! Nick and Matt will understand when we explain it after. Plus, it'll be funny to see their reaction." Chris explained quickly, pushing his girl's right shoulder with his own before gluing his hands in a praying gesture.

After a few moments of reflection, Y/N agreed, rolling her eyes playfully at his happiness before picking up her knife again and going back to cutting the vegetables, watching from the corner of her eye as Chris opened one of the cabinets above the stove and fished a dull, white mug from the bottom of the triplets' collection.

The boy showed the piece to his girl excitedly, receiving a laugh and shaking of head as a response. He leaned slightly towards her, sealing the top of her head softly before turning around, walking in discreet steps to the stairs that led to their shared room.

It didn't take long for the sound of footsteps to be heard again, this time firmer and faster. The boy quickly went up the last steps, already getting into character. When he entered the double room, his face was red with "anger" and he held the shards of the mug tightly.

"Y/N!" He shouted, his voice echoing through the house. "Did you do this shit?" His hand, which was holding the broken mug, rose into the air, rudely showing the pieces. "You broke my favorite mug!? How could you be so careless?"

Nick and Matt, who were sitting on the couch, looked up quickly, stopping playing instantly, focusing their widened eyes on Chris. They had never seen their brother so upset, not with his girlfriend.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Y/N dropped the knife on the counter with a dull thud, turning around slowly in fright, a fake expression of surprise resting on her face.

"Chris, I swear I didn't do it on purpose." The girl said, her voice slightly shaking as she raised her hands in surrender. "I was just cleaning up the mess, trying to help..."

"Help? You messed everything up! As always." Chris retorted, walking quickly towards the kitchen table and throwing the broken pieces of the mug against the wooden surface, the sound of more shattering ceramics echoing through the room. "That was my favorite mug! Do you have any idea when I got it? Years ago! You're useless, Y/N. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm still with you!"

Nick and Matt looked at each other, visibly uncomfortable and shocked. Nick shook his head, trying to understand if this was serious, while Matt bit his own lower lip, seeming to have an internal struggle between intervening or not. The sound of the video game coming from the television sounded muffled to their ears.

"C-Chris, I'm sorry, I can try to find another-"

"There's no other like it, Y/N! How could you?!" The boy growled, his features tightening more.

"Chris, hey, that's enough." Matt finally intervened, rising from his seat on the couch and approaching with cautious steps. "It's just a mug. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting? You don't understand, Matt. She always does this! Always ruins everything!" Chris continued, walking around the table and advancing towards Y/N, who took a few steps back until her back was against the counter, pretending to be scared. "Look at her! She can't even do a simple task without ruining it!"

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to do that..." Y/N made her bottom lip tremble slightly, forcing her own eyes to water. "Maybe it can be fixed-"

"Apologies aren't gonna fix it, Y/N! I'm sick of your messes!" He shouted as he gestured furiously, moving even closer.

Nick stood up from the couch abruptly as he saw his brother getting closer and closer to his best friend, his own fists clenched.

"Enough, Chris. I'm not going to let you talk to her like that. This is ridiculous! You're losing your temper." The oldest triplet shouted angrily, approaching Matt and glaring at Chris, who completely ignored him and continued advancing.

Matt realized within seconds that his brother wasn't going to hear Nick, sending a look towards the older triplet, who quickly shook his head. Nick approached the girl with quick steps, feeling Matt's eyes on his back, moving closer to the couple and placing himself in front of Y/N, crossing his arms firmly, his eyebrows knitting together in an angrier expression.

"Get out of the way, Nick. This is none of your business." Chris imitated his posture, crossing his arms and glaring at him, taking a quick look at his girl behind his brother, seeing her slightly wet face below the light of the room, feeling like crying himself. He hated seeing her upset.

"Oh, but it is my business, yes. She doesn't deserve to be treated like that!" Nick replied, his voice firm. "And if you scream one more time, I swear I'll shove all these mug pieces in your mouth and make you swallow them."

"You're crossing the line, Chris. It's just a mug, man. That's no reason to act like that. She's your girlfriend and a woman, have some respect, Mary Lou didn't teach you that." Matt joined Nick, nodding as he walked over as well, standing close to Y/N, casting a quick look of concern in her direction.

"How can you defend her? She broke my favorite mug due to lack of attention! I'm so sick of-" Chris's sentence was rudely interrupted by Nick, who took a step closer to him, his right hand coming up quickly and his fingers grabbing the tip of Chris's exposed ear, pulling it down hard. "Ouch! Are you fucking crazy? Nick!"

"You will see crazy if you insult my best friend one more time." Nick quickly responded, shrugging and looking down on him.

Chris held his glare for a few more seconds, his blue eyes darting from Matt - who was stroking Y/N's right shoulder lightly, asking in a hushed voice if she was okay - to Nick and back again, his ear starting to burn with pain, until he finally couldn't take it anymore and started laughing.

Y/N stopped pretending to cry and smiled, relieved, quickly wiping her face as a tearful laugh escaped her throat, jokingly pushing Matt lightly.

"Surprise!" Chris said, still laughing. "You've been pranked."

Nick and Matt broke their tense postures within seconds, Matt lowering his arms so they were straight at his sides before turning, looking at the two, confused for a moment.

"You two are such idiots!" Matt exclaimed, raising his right hand and running his fingers furiously across his face, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. "I almost had a heart attack here!"

"I really thought you were out of control, Chris." Nick said, letting go of his brother's ear, rolling his eyes at the wince the younger let out. "Don't ever do that again!"

"You almost got my ear off!" Chris exclaimed, massaging his ear and casting a look of fake horror towards his girlfriend, who laughed quietly at his reaction.

"You'll see what I'll really get off if you do that shit again. You too, Y/N." Nick pointed at the girl, receiving a look of false shock.

"It was his idea!"

taglist:

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[sweetteainthesummerx]

packing it up!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

series masterlist!

pairings: popstar!reader x quinn hughes

warnings: fluff, suggestive content, i also changed one word in the lyrics to fit the fic better

summary: summer at the lake house, and quinn realizes how completely in love with you he is.

song: packing it up by gracie abrams

word count: 2.1 k

notes: ideas from this ask!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

quinn glances at you from the rented car, your hair blowing angelically around your face. he thinks you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, even as you grimace and unstick your locks from your lipgloss.

his hand is heavy and warm on your thigh, your much smaller hand tucked over it.

he's both nervous and excited: you're the first girl he's ever brought to the lake house, the only one he's ever loved like this.

when quinn and you finally pull up to the lake house, luke and jack run out to greet you guys.

they offer hugs and brotherly kisses on the cheek to you, jack's girlfriend following close behind, the two of you reuniting with a squeal, chattering about some reality tv show.

his parents are at the door, hugging their oldest and his mom pulls you into a tight embrace too. jim tucks you under his arm, wanting to show you his new grill.

ellen and jim, who along with the rest of his brothers, met you at the hughes bowl game. technically, his mom had met you over facetime a week after you'd made it official.

at first, he could tell that she'd been a little wary of your public status and insane amount of fame but after getting to know you and seeing how much you cared for her son, she'd accepted you into the family with open arms. his dad liked you from the beginning, because you made chocolate chip cookies and looked at quinn like he hung the moon.

that night is busy and full of chatter, months worth of catching up finally done. you head up to shower and bed first, and jim slaps quinn's back as he gets up from where he was playing video games with his brothers for a drink of water.

"she's good for you son. don't let her get away," he grins, and quinn laughs, shaking his head.

"i don't plan to, dad. don't worry."

nearly an hour later when he drags his heavy feet up to his room and opens his door, he sees you and is suddenly wide awake.

you're on his bed, wearing a set of pink cotton pajamas, the thin and sparse material almost as soft as your skin under the warm over head light. you glow, you're prescence temptingly familiar.

he leans on the frame of the door just to watch you in your element.

your pretty, smooth legs are crossed, propping up your guitar as you softly pick at the strings with quick-practiced fingers and hum under your breath.

the first ever time he'd listened to you sing he'd realized that you were probably a genius. he'd never really been into music all that much as a kid, but he vaguely remembered you on the television at his friend's house and seeing posters of you everywhere.

at such a young age, you'd been famous, making millions of dollars and working with huge brands; yet here you are, hair still a little damp and looking like one of his teenage wet-dreams.

oh, if only 16-year-old quinn hughes could see this. actually, he'd probably be yelling at himself to join you on the bed.

"hey, baby." he murmurs, and you look up, smiling with tired eyes.

you let him set your guitar carefully into it's case, and he offers you soft kisses that make you giggle and squirm before he goes to the bathroom to wash up.

you're under the covers when he returns, and he crowds into you, shoving his face into your neck and breathing the familiar smell you your skin and bodywash.

he pushes his head into your chin as you laugh, soft voice saying something about acting like a dog, but he doesn't care.

he wants to merge into one with you, as weird as it sounds. being close to you physically is almost not enough. he feels like he can't breathe and that you're fresh air all at the same time, affection for you clogging thick in his throat.

you rub his scalp and his temples and his bones melt, his weight flattening you to the mattress.

he knows he's too heavy, but he can't bear the thought of moving even an inch from you, so his hands finds the curve of your waist, lifting you easily so you're chest to chest, your body like a weighted blanket on him.

"goodnight, quinny," you press a kiss into the little space in between his clavicles, the little dip pale under the stream of moonlight through the crack of the curtains.

he returns the favour to your guitar-calloused fingertips, and the two of you breathe in tandem as sleep finds you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

the next afternoon, after a big breakfast and a lazy morning, all of you usher out to the boat, eager to catch any droplet of that good, good michigan sunshine. ellen sends you all off with a cooler of drinks and sandwiches.

after quinn sets down the cooler and the other boys are figuring out the logistics of the boat, he tucks his big hands under your armpits and lifts you onto the wobbling vessel easily.

you kiss his cheek in thanks, and once everyone is settled down, jack's girlfriend whips out a humongous bottle of sunscreen and begins to slather her boyfriend down.

quinn sighs as you fill your hands with the sun cream, and turns grudgingly, back muscles shifting under pale skin.

he hisses as the cold liquid, his fingers coming to smack at the side of your thigh playfully when you laugh.

he helps you apply it too; you push at his head when his hands wander and you flush a sunburnt pink.

through out the day, as jack, luke and quinn take turns driving and wakeboarding, you tanned with jack's girl, planting yourself on your boyfriend's lap whilst he drove and tucked yourself on the seat with your book.

as the sun was setting and the boys were still insisting on wakeboarding, the music from the speakers was blasting music (once in a while, one of your songs would come on, and the whole boat would cheer, much to your embarrassment) as you nestled into your seat between quinn's legs, your back pressed up to his bare chest.

it was chilly on the water, quinn's hoodie and body heat around you your only source of warmth.

luke complains about all of the pda as the four of you laugh at his whining, and quinn rubs your goosebump-littered thighs.

you sigh happily, utterly exhausted but so, so content.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

quinn watches from his seat on the couch as you and his mother, the two most important women in his life, laugh together while cooking dinner.

ellen tells you something, and you giggle, glancing at him. he realizes he's grinning unconciously.

honestly, his mom is probably roasting him or telling an embarrassing story, but he doesn't mind. it's oddly domestic seeing you with his family, and he's delighted how well you fit in.

later that night, as the you settle in for bed, he asks what you were talking about with his mom.

your eyes glitter with adoration as you cup his jaw. he leans into your touch, his own hand resting over yours.

"you," you tell him so earnestly, and his heart fills with so much love.

three words rest on his tongue, but you yawn sleepily, tucking yourself into his side.

he lays awake for a few moments, the words heavy like a treasure box full of gold, ready to burst at any moment.

he is so, so in love with you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

three months later, when the air in vancouver is bordering on brisk, and when he finds you wearing his sweaters more often than not, you sit him down after dinner, passing him your laptop.

"i have something for you," you tell him nervously. he doesn't like seeing you unsettled, so he sweeps his thumb over your cheek until you relax.

he presses play on the video, and an acoustic guitar starts playing.

your angelic voice joins in, and he automatically bites back a smile.

i hope that you get everything you could ask for the cold side of your pillow, a real break for once good peppermint tea with cool wind on the drive home with no traffic for miles, for spring to come

the video fades into what he thinks are snippets of your first few months together immortalized on your camcorder: him ordering your coffee, walking in stanley park in the early march, him tying your skates on your third date, him driving, relaxed with the windows down on the way to the lake house.

i swear that i wasn't looking for much but that's just when you happened that's right when you happened got so damn close to packing it up but that's just when you happened and then you happened then you happened

it hits him at the chorus: this song is about him. you wrote a love song about him. he looks at you, and you're a little pink, still fidgeting. he hopes that his awe-struck expression is enough for now, because he has no words.

now i'm red in the face, and shy all of a sudden you move, i move, it's something, you fit perfectly and replace every game, you push none of my buttons and hold me through the morning, kinda new for me

the next clip streams seamlessly onto the screen. it's taken shakily through a screen door, the two of your figures swaying in a slow dance on the porch, the sun rising on the docks in the distance.

he relishes in how good the two of you look together, how right.

as the chorus plays, you tell him, "i think your mom took that,"

and he laughs voice broken with emotion, because of course his mom could tell how absolutely devoted he was to you.

i hope that you get my dark sense of humor sunsets in the summer with your family don't stop talking to me, maybe stay here forever we could die here together, I'd do it happily

around the campfire, the grainy-filtered camera pans to each member of his family, everyone laughing and chattering as they roasted marshmallows. the sun was a pretty orange against the purple-pink backdrop of the sky.

i'll hold you, i'll know you i'll never leave out the back door and i'd love to complete you hope you get all you could ask for

he watches with teary eyes a video of the two of you on the boat, in your own world. you're wrapped up in his hoodie and his arms as he rests his cheek on your head. he says something to you, and you throw your head back laughing, leaning back onto his shoulder.

'cause i swear that i wasn't looking for much but that's just when you happened that's right when you happened got so damn close to packing it up but that's right when you happened mm, then you happened

the last clip is of him, wearing a thin shirt and shorts, back to the camera. he's standing on the docks, hand reaching behind him to you.

your hand, he recognizes, slips into his perfectly and he turns, a devastatingly smitten look on his face as he looks to you.

when the music ends, he's pouting a little to keep from crying.

normally he doesn't get emotional easily, but you make it so easy for him to be vulnerable.

you smile, a little wobbly but gorgeous as ever as he tugs you onto his lap, burying his face into your neck.

he's sure you can feel his teary eyes and warm cheeks, but he doesn't mind.

"thank you, thank you," he mutters into your skin, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, "no one has ever done...anything like that for me before."

"you like it?" you ask, delighted.

"i love it, sweetheart," he tells you, kissing every inch of you he can.

those three words are back on his tongue, and if he's honest, they never left.

"i love you." he tells you steadily, his voice gravelly from the sheer force of his feelings.

you gasp a little, and he shakes his head: how could you ever doubt that he loves you with his entire being?

between tear-wet kisses and sweet, feather-soft caresses, you tell him you love him too.

he's never been too good with words, at expressing how he feels, but for you?

he'd tell you he loves you every single day.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★