#more of them Not in pain coming soon maybe?

[trashytracktales]

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

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SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kisses against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work .”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his and and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me fuck you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[almostloverboy]

It was your first time going to your roommate, Tommy’s, gym. You felt a flash of thrill come up your chest as your hand touched the handle and pulled the front door open. You still weren’t passing very well yet, nor were you out to anyone but Tommy, so going to an all men’s gym was something that made your stomach churn. Tommy had told you to walk straight back to the locker room, that he would tell the front desk to expect you on his visitors pass. Just as your hand absentmindedly went to touch the badge hanging off the waistband of your sweats, you made eye contact with the attendant at the front desk. He eyed you suspiciously, but you guessed that your freshly buzzed hair and excessively baggy sweatshirt gave him a clue. He pursed his lips but with a swift nod of his head directed you back to the locker room.

There was only one, and Tommy said he’d meet you in it. When you walked in, you immediately caught sight of his bulky frame casually draped over with some towels coming out of the sauna. His skin practically glowed and you had to take a moment to really appreciate the sea of various gorgeous bodies following suit. There were some guys wrapped in towels as they came out Some guys were brazenly naked, showing off their bare chests or horizontal scars and tdicks and happy trails. The next thing you knew, Tommy was grabbing you by the shoulder. "Admiring the view?" He snickered and you can feel blush burn your cheeks. Maybe you were being a little too obvious with your staring.

Tommy took you to the back, where there were some free lockers. He took your bag and shoved it in, then turned to you expectantly. His arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for a petulant child. "Well? Strip." You shook your head vigorously and tried to sputter off some excuse about being shy but Tommy was having none of it. "It's just guys here. No need to be weird about it. Nobody's looking but you." Your flush grows hotter but you know Tommy well enough to know that he won't let you weasel out of this so easily. So you drop your sweats, exposing the jock strap you were wearing underneath. What could you say? You were trying something out and your jaw dropped when you saw yourself in the mirror. It made you really feel like a guy. Tommy seemed equally impressed, but was much more fixated on your bare ass. "C'mon. All of it." He muttered breathlessly.

When you glanced over to make sure that there was, in fact, no one watching you strip, you noticed a couple of guys looking over your way. When you caught their eyes, each of their lips pulled up into a playful smirk. One guy whose lower half was covered up by a large gym towel started adjusting it while holding your gaze, opening it just slightly. Maybe it was to show solidarity, but you couldn't take your eyes off where you'd seen the glimpse of his hard cock. You couldn't help but imagine how long he'd been on T to be that big. Like they had a mind of their own, your hands started to pull off your sweatshirt and shirt in one go. You don't even bother to shove it into your locker, it just drops to the floor.

As soon as your taped chest is exposed, you feel Tommy's hands on your now bare hips. You start to move to cover yourself, hyper aware of all of the sexy guys staring you down and just how much more... Like men they looked. As if he could read your mind, Tommy spoke up as he moved to stand behind you. "Whadya think, guys? He's comin' along quite nicely, huh?" You hear a general murmur of agreement that makes you want to cringe away from all the eyes on you, but Tommy grabs your wrists and holds them behind you. You can feel his crotch push up against your bare ass, only shielded by the scratchy white towel.

"I bet those growing pains are a killer." You hear one guy mutter. Another nudges a friend: "You can already see some hair on his stomach." Finally, one guy takes the first step towards you and you're drooling. He's a big guy, and you can tell he spends every day at this gym because his arms make you want to lick them like ice cream. Your knees almost buckle at the sight of his bare body in front of you, but he smiles kindly. "Don't worry, we'll turn you into a real man here. You'll only look like a twinky little fag for a couple'a months more. Soon you'll be a muscular little fag."

The Adonis looks over at Tommy, as if asking permission. You can't see his response, but the guy's arm darts out to snap the elastic of your jock strap, earning him a sharp yelp and your voice cracks. You were surprised, you didn't think your voice had changed at all yet, but some of the guys grinned knowingly. "See? It's workin' already."

Tommy started to tug you toward the showers, and you noticed that there weren't even any walls or curtains between each shower head. There was already someone in there, he was leaning his head back in the stream and sighing as his fingers slid in and out of his cunt. You thought Tommy might notice the interruption and go someplace with some more privacy, but you also guessed after using you as a show for his friends, he didn't have much shame back here. "Hey Jack, why don't you show my roommate here how things go back here?"

The guy only opened his eyes just to roll them in Tommy's direction, but he seemed to comply. "Damn, did you tell him what was happening? This is quite the little outfit he has on. Practically begging to be used..." You can feel Tommy's hands let go of you as Jack ushers you to take over the shower stream he'd been occupying. "Don' worry, I'll be gentle." He muttered as he got to his knees in front of you. The steaming hot water hit your back and you couldn't help but relax at the feeling. It was nice. Jack leads one of your hands to grab at his tits, and your other hand is led back to your ass. "Lube will make the next bit more fun. It's in the dispenser next to you." He said like he'd done it a million times before. Maybe he had.

"I called dibs, Jack, don't use him up yet." As your lubed up fingers slide into your ass, you hear Tommy's voice ring out. You can hardly see him among all the steam, but you can tell he's close to you. "I get to break him in."

[bamsywrites]

Recompense: Prologue

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Summary: There's a fire in your that Adar is not willing to extinguish

Tags: blood, wounds, being dragged by hair, mentions of death, mentions of slavery, orcs doing orc things.

Notes: this is more like a teaser, I guess, than a prologue, I just wanna gauge interest. Another part of And Comes Dawn will be up soon. Let me know what you think.

“Go! Go now with haste,” you hoisted the last of the small ones onto a horse. You tightened the satchel around the horse and made sure it was in place. In it was water and bread and dried food, just enough for a day's ride.

The fire from your village burning and the stars above were all the light that you had. Every horse from the stables had a rider. Most had two. It was the only hope the children had for survival. Child slaves would be no use for the labor the Orcs had planned once the people were marched to Mordor. Already, the ones who resisted were killed.

“Where should we go,” one of the older boys asked you. “What if they…”

“They will not. Dawn comes soon, and they can not travel in sunlight. Chase the sun. As fast as you can. Do not stray from that path. You will come to an elven city in a day's time. Now go!” You insisted, giving him a look that signaled he best not argue. You watched for a moment as they rode away, turning back to your village. You saw your home burning, the cruel laughs of the orcs as they rounded your people up. You had half a mind to run away, but your feet would only take you so far.

As if reading your mind, an enemy arrow sored through the sky and pierced your thigh, causing you to cry out in pain. The searing pain spread through your body like fire, and you could see spots in your vision. In moments, you were being dragged to the others by your arm, the orc grunting something to his companions in a language you didn't understand. Your teeth dug into your lips so hard that blood ran down your chin. The pain was unbearable, but you didn't need them to have the satisfaction of knowing the pain you were in.

You were shackled and chained to the others from your village, your eyes looking around for the familiar faces of your family and friends, feeling relieved that you could account for them all but anxiety gripped your chest as you realized where you would be going and what that meant for your people.

A lifetime of slavery.

For you, it was a death sentence unless you could get care for this wound.

The trek was grueling. Your leg getting weaker and weaker as you walked, you had broken off the long stem of the arrow as it was incredibly painful anytime it brushed against something, the dried blood from the wound caked and cracked on your skin. It would soon be infected if not treated quickly, which was an unlikely scenario.

You were starting to accept your fate. Maybe you'd be able to talk with the people you cared for one more time before dying. Perhaps death was better than slavery.

As you entered Mordor, the smoke filled your nose and choked your lungs. It took your eyes a while to adjust, the ash making them itch. There were pockets of men and women working, but you knew there were many more scattered amongst the southlands. They were just beginning. Soon, you were positive all of the Southlands would be here, toiling away until they were of no use to the orcs.

“Where are the children?” A rough voice bellowed from somewhere in the swarm of orcs. “Where are the fucking children?!”

Some of those around you flinched, and others eyed you, but your eyes stayed focused on the ground. The pain consuming your thoughts only lessened by the knowledge the little ones had got away. If they had not been found by now, they would have made it to safety. You could only hope.

“There were none,” answered one of the orcs.

“No children? I see men, I see women. Are you telling me not a single one of them fucked?”

Before there was an answer, the orc grabbed his brother by the throat and pushed him to the side. “You are useless.”

Red eyes scanned the crowd, a tense silence falling over it. Red eyes landed on the blacksmiths son. He was lanky and notoriously cowardly, altogether unpleasant. “You, where are they?”

Instantly, his eyes darted to you, and there were rough fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “Tell me and tell me now.”

You looked the orc in his eyes, surely if you were going to die, why not make it fun? Besides, these creatures had stolen your home, your people, your freedom. You were tired of living under boots, tired of having no say, tired of being treated as lesser.

When you didn't speak quickly enough, the orc's fingers dug harder into your cheeks, “Speak, girl.”

“It is quite hard to gather one's thoughts when orcs smell so atrocious.”

In a flurry of movement, the orc had a knife blade pressed into your cheek and twisted it until blood poured down past your lips and onto your chin. “I would watch your words and tell me what I want if you wish to keep your tongue.”

“We take celibacy very seriously,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “Ever since the blacksmith had a son that was such an affront to basic decency, we have all sworn off intimacy as to not risk making more like him.”

The orc pressed his blade harder into your cheek until more blood poured, “You think you're so funny now, let us see what Adar has to say.”

He released your face, throwing you to the ground and grabbing your hair as he dragged you away. Your feet desperately tried to find footing underneath your body, but the pain from the arrow made it impossible, along with the muddy ground, causing your feet to slip. Rocks and branches nicked your skin as you were dragged along until your body was covered in bruises and scratches and blood mixed with mud on your skin. The time was achingly slow, filled with agony, but it only fueled the anger in your belly more.

Soon, you were taken into a tent and thrown across the floor. You tried to stand, but your leg gave out, your eyes darting around the tent. Many more orcs stood there and at the center was what looked like an elf but burns and scarring and the tone of his skin made your suspect he was something darker than an elf.

“What is this pathetic little thing?” The not elfs voice was low and deep as he eyed your form.

“A villager, Lord Father, there were no children with them, and she knows where they are. I feel she needs to be taught respect”

You looked up at the orc, “You brought me to your father for him to reprimand me for being unkind to you?”

The orcs darted from you, and then to Adar, you were intrigued by this display of restraint.

“She's got quite a tongue on her,” Adar spoke, his armor clacking as he made his way to you, “Perhaps we should remove it.”

He kneeled down before you, his fingers dancing over what was left off the arrow. Even the small movement caused immense pain to shoot through your body.

“Where are they?” He asked as he twisted the wood, causing you to cry out in pain.

“I will not tell you.”

Twist.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Twist.

You spit at his feet. “I will not allow the children of my village to butchered.”

Adar stopped, “You think us too cruel. Our interest is not for bloodshed. Small fingers make easy work for finding small ores for our armor.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, “Slavery is little better than death.”

“Is that why you taunt my children? You fear slavery more than death.”

You didn't speak, simply looking into his eyes with contempt. He looked back, contemplating you. It was as if he was looking into the eyes of someone he knew but had long forgotten, something he knew everything about yet nothing all at once.

“Leave us.” He stood, his attention turning towards his ‘children’, all of whom followed his command.

The room was quiet for a few moments before you broke the silence.”I suppose you are going to kill me now.”

“No, I'm going to heal you now.”

[silverynight]

The roommate

<---Previous

Part XXVI

"What's your ideal date, Izuku?"

Perhaps it's just an innocent question, but Izuku is so tense because of the mission, he immediately has a bad feeling about the whole situation. Besides, even though he's usually friendly towards anyone, the way Toga is grabbing his arm is making him want to put some distance between them as soon as possible.

"Uhh... it used to be going to the park or maybe a fair and share a crepe with the person I like–"

"Are you hungry, Izuku? Do you want a crepe?" Toga asks, blushing even more.

"No, thanks... I actually have to go."

"Why?" Kana cuts in, the moment she notices that Toga looks disappointed. For the most part, she left them alone; she seemed happier walking right behind the two and not engaging in their conversation at all.

"My boyfriends are waiting for me," Izuku blurts out, not knowing if it's the right thing to do at the moment. He knows he should be trying to pretend things aren't going that great in his relationship, but right now there's nothing he wants more than to see them again.

The grip Toga has around his arm tightens and it becomes slightly painful.

"You're hurting me," he points out and Toga squeezes him even tighter against her before she lets him go.

Izuku doesn't like Toga at all. She makes him feel uncomfortable and nervous.

"They'll eventually hurt you," Toga narrows her eyes. "They don't deserve you."

Izuku starts wondering if Toga is one of those people who started sympathizing with the heroes' haters after Kana was released and shared the villain's ideals with the world or if she was always like that due to personal experiences.

"They love me and they try their best," Izuku argues; the need to defend them is stronger than anything else. "I can't ask for more. Besides, I make mistakes too. Nobody is perfect."

"Pro heroes certainly aren't," Toga huffs, getting more irritated with Izuku's response. "But people seem to think they are."

"Some of them do," he agrees. "But not all of them. It's truly a mistake to idealize people, not only pro heroes. They are human too and although they shouldn't get away with crimes just because of their position, we shouldn't judge them too hard when they make harmless mistakes."

Toga shakes her head, but doesn't argue with Izuku because she doesn't have anything to say to that.

"I don't trust pro heroes and you shouldn't either."

"I trust Kacchan and Shoto."

She hisses and Kana doesn't look happy either, but Izuku stays calm, mostly because there's a lot of people around. Although he shouldn't feel like this; they're just two girls with strong opinions.

"I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you," Izuku tells Toga, before waving at Kana.

It looks like Kana wants to say something else, but Toga stops her; Izuku has never been that relieved to leave a shopping center before.

As he walks away and into a street nearby, he finally has the time to read Hagakure's texts; she apparently didn't like Toga at all and decided to ask Yaoyorozu to find out more about her.

"Izuku."

He hears Shoto's voice and he definitely bumps into a broad chest and a hero suit that looks exactly like his, but as soon as Izuku looks up and stares into familiar mismatched eyes he is completely sure this is not his Shoto.

He knows Hagakure is still following him because it's part of the deal, but he wonders that now that she's seen his "boyfriend" she would go back to the agency immediately.

"Hi," he mumbles nervously before he takes his phone to text her quickly, but a pair of hands snatch it off his as they also take Izuku's groceries.

"Let me help you with that."

"You know what?" Izuku smiles, trying to look as calm as possible. "I forgot something, I need to go back to the mall."

"I know you're really smart, Izuku and I'm sure you know this is not your stupid boyfriend. But you'll have to come with me–"

"Hagakure!" He screams. "This is not Shoto!"

The villain makes such a disgusted expression that looks so foreign on Shoto's features that it makes Izuku to instinctively take a couple of steps back. He's ready to run.

"There's a pro hero here?" The fake Shoto hisses. "I should've known!"

Then he takes a knife out and Izuku has the sudden feeling (maybe because of his nightmares or the way Toga approached him earlier) that he has finally solved a complex puzzle.

"Toga?"

"I told you to call me Himiko!" She hisses again with Shoto's face before stabbing him.

Izuku screams in pain.

"What are you doing? You told me you weren't going to hurt him!" Is that Kana's voice? She doesn't sound happy anymore.

"I won't kill him. He just needs to learn a lesson!"

Izuku wishes she stopped using his boyfriend's face and voice because it hurts to see Shoto trying to harm him, even though Izuku knows it's not the real one.

Then, she removes the knife, which is even more painful; he knows it'll also make him bleed profusely. Then, something collides with Toga, and she begins to turn back into her original form.

A blond, naked, but wild young woman willing to do anything for what she wants.

Although Izuku is not sure what she wants at the moment, the only thing he knows is that he's bleeding, feels dizzy and his knees can't support him anymore.

He falls to the ground as he realizes Hagakure is the one fighting Toga.

There are a couple of people in that area now and some of them are calling an ambulance and others the police and asking to be transferred to a hero agency.

A couple of them are taking videos of what's going on. At least they have Toga's transformation on their phones now.

Everything's confusing.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know she was going to hurt you!" Kana is at his side now, although Izuku can't be that sure; his vision has become blurry out of the sudden.

He's going to pass out.

"She's confused, but she means well..."

There's a scream, but this time it comes from Toga.

"What did you do? You blinded me!"

Izuku nerd's heart would have loved to see how Hagakure managed to do that with her quirk; he has seen her on YouTube videos a couple of times... does she reflect light to the point–

His vision turns completely black for a second.

Maybe it's not the time for hero combat analysis.

"Die!"

The familiar, absolutely rude yell comforts Izuku immediately and even the explosion that follows it.

"Izuku, love, are you alright?"

For a second, he flinches at the sight of Shoto, but one look tells him this is his boyfriend, the real one.

"It's alright, Izuku. It's me, please..."

He feels safe now, despite the pain and the amount of blood that's coming from his open wound; Izuku had been trying to stop it with his hands, but he's too weak to put pressure on it.

His vision is turning black again.

"Izuku, don't close your eyes," Shoto pleads, desperate, worried; Izuku is almost sure he's about to cry. "Stay with me. The paramedics are here–Izuku!"

"IZUKU!"

His Katsuki is getting closer now, but he can't stay awake anymore.

At least he's with them again.

***

He wakes up a couple of times; the first one he's inside an ambulance and the paramedic is asking a few questions to Katsuki.

"Izuku?"

His eyes can't stay open for too long.

The next time he's on a bed, in a room that smells too clean and covered on light blue sheets.

"Are you alright, baby?"

Izuku beams as he looks up at Katsuki; he's being extremely soft and gentle with him because he's worried. He also looks tired and like he's about to break.

"Love?"

Shoto is there too, which makes Izuku feel better immediately; he's still dizzy, but there's no pain now, although Izuku suspects they gave him a couple of painkillers for that.

Suddenly, his boyfriends take his hands and lean closer to him.

"I'm glad you're here," he manages to say.

"Don't you dare scare us like that again!" Katsuki huffs, trying to hide his own concern, but he intertwines his fingers with Izuku's. His eyes are red; he must've been crying. Shoto doesn't look any better.

"I was scared." The man with mismatched eyes admits.

"It's okay," Izuku smiles, pulling them closer (one at a time) to give them both a kiss on the forehead. "I'm here."

***

You can read Part XXVII, Part XXVIII and Part XXIX on my patreon already.

Patreon

[srslylini]

The way season 1 ended she was at a point so low she was ready to blow up a city (and like she did, she blew up the council). The start of season 2 showing her cathartic wasn't actually bad I liked that direction. It felt like they wanted to show her in a "nothing state" which depression also feels like.

they showed her as not caring about anything anymore (literally just walking through every scene in the music video sucker while everything just HAPPENS around her). The meeting with Isha, while still being a little bit odd since it felt like well they randomly put them together but that's something you can overlook, was amazing. She still just didn't care, played with her life.

Her reaction to seeing her sister being an enforcer? Gut punching. Extremely painful. The fight with her STILL being more in a nothing like state, just shooting the dude with her back turned to him felt very s1 which is good because again, Jinx in the end was like??? done.

and then.... act 2 happened. Suddenly they used Jinx's mental state as a Plot device. In season 1 it would ruin missions and her freaking out would happen no matter if "the plot needed it or not" if you get what I mean? The first mission we see on screen? fucked up because Jinx lost control. This happens throughout the first season, it doesn't just come when ever the writers need it to happen.

In season 2 it does. Suddenly in situations that should freak her out she doesn't. Suddenly they use it as a plot device. Why was she very calm and relaxed upon meeting Vander as warwick with Vi? Why did she not freak out when Vi and her fought in the mines?

Do we all remember what happened in season 1 episode 3? And how Jinx immediately lashed out as soon as a fight occured? What happened? Also why was she suddenly so very chill with Enforcers in act 2 and beyond? The joke with the Enforcer and her god damn fucking pants was so out of place I cannot even handle to think about it anymore. The fight with Warwick was good and I liked that in the end they again showed that she is ready to kill herself, at least there is continuity here but that is also never addressed and also... happens for Plot and plot only

it happens so warwick can see the bomb and so they can have him recognize her, like okay arcane writers? And then after that she is simply fine with her second father figure showing up again? You are telling me the girl who had such a mental break down last season over her sister returning would be absolutely fine and 🥺family🥺 upon seeing Vander? Where was the sense? Where was her having to deal with Silco and Vander in her mind? i don't WANT to see her tortured, duh, but they set that up and showed this happening to her in season 1, so this is just, I dont know, a plothole? You are telling me the same girl who blew up the council in s1, and like LOOK AT HER in that scene, is all cuddle cuddle with her past family whose death she always blamed herself for and was scared off?

Then Isha dying, and god do I have my problems with that but that's another thing, and THEN having Jinx never mention her again? Are you KIDDING ME? like it's not even just not mentioning her as much as it is just also Isha not appearing in her nightmares etc. That is NOT how they set Jinx up as a character. While the scene with Jinx in the prison with Silco turning up was chillingly heartbreaking it also didn't make sense if you take into account how they wrote her seeing things this season. In the one scene where she talked to Silco's chair she says he doesn't show up and then when she is in pain over Isha being caught suddenly he stands behind her? I mean maybe I missed something here but I literally sat there like huh.

In season 1 it happened not because it was needed but because it wasn't. As it should be. In this season it only happened when the Plot needed to move and that's just so incredibly weird to me. Especially cause I already saw people misinterpreting the Silco and Jinx prison scene. It was her subconscious telling her to kill herself not Silco trying to be "a positive influence".

And then or course, we have this tragic character Jinx. Who was shown to have a wish of death all throughout season 1 with how careless she was with her life (for example when she threw around the bombs in her hide out) and then throughout season 2 as well. Who saw a breath of life for a bit, taken from her.

To have a character like this ACTUALLY die by killing herself and then to paint it as a GOOD thing? This isn't a tragedy. This is straight up suicide glorification. I did not cry when I watched this scene, I did not feel sadness and grief. I was beyond mad and disgusted and might be for a long time to come.

I need more ppl to talk abt how awfully Jinx was treated this season. I am soooo angry and upset

[lucagray813]

Shadow - Chapter 10

Title: Behind the Veil

Rating: T+

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: MK

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: MK & Wukong

Summary: Macaque comes clean and walls and glamours finally fall. Their relationship will be all the better for it but it does result in a painful flashback to the worst day of their lives.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: Suggestive language, major character death, the following CWs are present but not graphic: self-mutilation, self-harm, blood and injury, violence

If you want to skip the MCD and the following CWs scroll past the italics after "His ears started ringing."

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

----

Wukong had spent almost all of his time in the library, consolidating his understanding of everything pertaining to the soul. He wasn't an expert in every facet of a soul's "lifecycle" but he had plenty of experience sitting with his own and exploring it's nature and that knowledge was what he thought might be of use to Macaque.

There was a chance he was focusing a little too hard on what might have been a figure of speech but at the same time it wouldn't do Macaque any harm. He would argue that even if it didn't help specifically with finding the truth about the Void it could still help him come to terms with his fear.

He wondered if there was a way to more directly help Macaque beyond teaching him what he knew because he was sure Macaque was going to be a very reluctant student. He already knew how to meditate but it was normally with a focus on magic, not on anything spiritual. And Wukong knew from first hand experience how difficult and unpleasant sitting with who you really are could be.

He was probably not going to find an alternative method to verbal guidance before Macaque returned but he would keep looking into it. In the meantime, he could make sure he was fully prepared to try and teach, although that was probably going to mean a lot of meditation on his own first.

He generally did mediate every day but he'd be lying if he said it had become much less of a priority in recent years. But it was time to get back on the bandwagon in a big way. Admittedly, he'd probably have an easier time of it once Macaque was back because every time he sat down to try it he just couldn't resist astral projecting and checking on him.

Astral projection was a bit of a curious talent. You weren't really seeing another person's soul, just a visual representation of it and how it appeared had a lot to do with the perception and skill of the beholder. If MK were here instead of him, Macaque's soul wouldn't look the same way to him as it did to Wukong.

If you could reach the pinnacle of enlightenment then he was sure no soul would be a mystery to you but given his attachment to some very specific souls it was unlikely he was reaching that level anytime soon. And honestly he was ok with that.

It would have been handy just to be able to look at Macaque and know everything about him but for all that it could save them both some hardship, it would really take away from the thrill of discovery. Maybe there was a middle ground that was somehow attainable?

Idle thoughts for another day, he frowned slightly as he considered Macaque's soul. It was odd he couldn't see his scars or ears, not that one's physical appearance made any difference to their true soul, but it did often influence the projection of the unenlightened. Maybe it had something to do with how Macaque viewed himself? Or how he wanted to be seen?

It was probably the latter and that did really put a downer on his hopes that Macaque would be dropping his glamours again any time soon. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that there were more important matters to attend to, but it was always on the back of his mind.

Actually, another thing that struck him as strange was that he could see Macaque's surroundings, although that was perhaps a generous description for an endless world of darkness. Astral projection never usually made the physical world melt away. Anytime he contacted MK this way all he could see was a vision of his soul, he couldn't see where he was.

He tried to rack his brain for any time he had projected to Macaque outside of the Void and he found he couldn't recall a single time that wasn't from days long past. He didn't generally need to and it was a bit invasive - they had phones for a reason.

He thought it might be worth testing what happened when Macaque was in the physical realm with him because right now this was giving some credence to the theory that Macaque's soul was connected to this place in a pretty significant way.

He didn't want to consider any theory too deeply at the moment however not until Macaque was back to discuss things.

He supposed he had to be quite grateful to the monkeys for forcing him to take breaks and eat and sleep. Macaque would be furious if he came back to find he hadn't been taking care of himself but it was hard not to fret. Although even he could admit his check-ins were a little too frequent.

He started setting alarms for himself - no astral projecting allowed until the next one went off and the monkeys took this rule very seriously. Going to great lengths to ensure he adhered to it.

It was two days after Macaque left for the Void that something was different when he went to check on him. He wasn't lying down asleep anymore, in fact it looked like he was sitting talking to someone and Wukong had just interrupted. Macaque looked extraordinarily guilty as he stood up.

"Ah, Wukong, I was just on my way back!"

Confused, he asked, "Who are you talking to? Did someone else project to you?"

The only person he was aware of that could astral project that might have any interest in contacting Macaque was MK. And while he wasn't one hundred percent confident that MK knew absolutely nothing about the Void, it felt odd that he would be there now.

Macaque winced as he admitted, "Ah, no. I might have already left?" He hastened to add, "Literally like an hour ago! I, er, just needed to check up on some things?"

Later, he no doubt would be annoyed that Macaque hadn't come straight home or at least let him know he had left but right now he was a little more concerned with something else.

He clarified, "You're not in the Void right now, then?"

Clearly misinterpreting his tone, Macaque tried to pacify him, "No but I'll be with you in, like, five minutes. Less than five minutes. I just had to... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Macaque's soul was still surrounded by that same all consuming black and no part of him thought this was a good sign.

He rubbed at his temple, "Just get your ass back here now."

Macaque nodded quickly, "Absolutely. I'm basically already there."

Wukong broke off the connection as Macaque turned around to explain to whoever he was with that he had to go.

...

Ok, apparently later was now. How dare he not come straight back here! Wukong had been worried sick for two days straight and he just went off to hang out with someone else? He was going to kick his ass when he appeared!

Which as promised only took about thirty seconds and Wukong didn't give him a chance to stammer out any platitudes before grabbing his shirt and shaking him, "Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I've been? And you just went off gallivanting!?"

Macaque grabbed on to his wrists to try and stop him, "Alright! Alright! Stop! Let me explain!"

He stopped with the shaking but he still held him as if he threatened to start again at the slightest provocation, "Talk."

Macaque took a breath, "Look, I never usually come straight back from the Void, ok? Takes a bit to get used to being physical again. And then I like to check to see what I've missed - you know, see if I've got any calls or messages. Sometimes I even do a quick peek around the houses to make sure everyone is fine. Usually only takes an hour or two tops and then I come right here."

Wukong eyed him suspiciously, that all sounded reasonable but if that was true why was he behaving like he'd been caught doing something wrong, "Who were you talking to?"

Macaque coughed a little awkwardly before rubbing at his neck, "Bǎi Hé...?"

"You don't sound so sure of that."

Macaque sighed and stepped out of his grasp, which he begrudgingly allowed, "No, I really was talking to her. I... I wasn't quite ready to face the music and I was hoping she might be able to settle my nerves."

He frowned, "What did you think I was going to do when you got back?"

Aggrieved, Macaque responded, "It wasn't that. I was just... embarrassed about how I acted. I know I'm dramatic but that really was taking it too far - got us both upset over nothing."

It definitely wasn't over nothing but he couldn't disagree the whole thing could have been handled a lot better. Wukong had had the last two days to agonise and come to terms with it but Macaque hadn't - he'd basically been asleep the entire time - and he could understand why he might need a moment to lament things.

Deciding to be forgiving, he asked, "Did she help?"

A bit of the tension melting off him, Macaque responded, "A little. She didn't actually know what the problem was, so it was more of a general pep-talk/lecture to get a grip. Honestly, she can be a little merciless."

Wukong snorted, "I wonder where she got that from."

Macaque shrugged and lied, "I have no idea."

Fond against his will, he huffed. Before opening his arms, "Alright, I'm appeased. Get back over here so I can properly welcome you back."

Perhaps a little more eager than he intended, Macaque was quickly back in his space and holding him tightly. For this moment at least, all was forgiven as he relished in the feeling of having Macaque in his arms. To actually be able to touch him, instead of pretending to while he was astral projecting.

Their tails had intertwined almost immediately and as he pulled back to kiss Macaque's cheek, he quietly told him, "Welcome back."

Macaque placed a chaste kiss on his lips before answering, "Good to be back. Sorry I was gone for so long."

Part of him was tempted to forego any immediate conversation and just carry him to bed and snuggle up with him but if past experience had taught him anything it was that putting off important chats only made them more difficult.

So with a heroic effort, he led them to the couch instead, "C'mon, drama queen, let's get this show on the road. We've got a lot to talk about."

Despite sighing dramatically, Macaque followed him, flopping on the couch, as he commented, "I suppose so." But he sobered up quickly, "First and foremost though, I am sorry about, well, everything. Freaking out, keeping secrets... Doesn't really matter what reasons I had, it was shitty of me. I'm sorry."

As glad as he was for an apology, it really wasn't enough to completely pacify him, "The freaking out I can forgive but keeping secrets? Of that magnitude? I can't pretend I'm not still upset about it."

Everyone had their secrets, even him, and he didn't expect Macaque to tell him every little thing he'd ever thought or done but this was way too big for him not to have shared with him.

Macaque had said he deserved to know so he could have a choice and he did appreciate the sentiment but more than that if this was something that could have a big impact on either of them or their relationship then he just needed to be in the know in general.

Macaque accepted this easily, "I know. I always knew that I needed to tell you but... No, I don't want to make excuses. Look, I wish I could promise you there'll be no more secrets from now on but I can't... I promise to try though. Anything you ask me from now on, I'll do my best to be upfront about."

He would actually really like to hear Macaque's "excuses", he was pretty sure he understood why he'd kept this a secret and it felt important to talk about it but for now he decided to test Macaque on his word.

Getting straight into it, he asked, "How many people know about your condition? And about the Void?"

"Niú and Gōngzhǔ probably know about as much as you do now. Red Son knows more than anyone about my physical condition, but I've never told him about the Void, although I wouldn't put it past him to figure it out eventually. The only other person who knows anything about my condition, my vision and taste and the like, is Bǎi Hé but she knows absolutely nothing else."

He then hesitated and added, "For the sake of being upfront though... She has seen my scars and ears. She's the only one other than you."

Well that wasn't a question he was going to ask but now that he had the answer he was a little flummoxed, "Bǎi Hé has seen you without your glamours...? When? Why?"

It felt unfair to be upset about that but he hadn't even had a chance to look at them properly yet.

Macaque was surprisingly serious, "Wukong, if I tell you this, it doesn't leave this room. This is Bǎi Hé's business, alright? Swear, you won't breathe a word of this again."

A little shocked, he held up his hands, "I swear. Jeez. If it's that big a deal, you don't have to tell me."

He would very much like to know but Macaque's glamours were not actually under question here. Sure, Wukong was a little sensitive about it but at the end of the day that was his issue not Macaque's. Macaque didn't owe him his true appearance and definitely not any of Bǎi Hé's secrets.

But he had a feeling Macaque felt the need to prove how serious he was about being honest.

"You don't need the details but just know she has a lot of scars from when the Lady Bone Demon had her. She was feeling really self-conscious about them so I took my glamours down so she knew I wasn't just talking shit just to make her feel better."

God, did Macaque love that kid. He wasn't sure there was anything he wouldn't do for her. He imagined that hadn't been easy for him - no doubt it was a very Lady Bone Demon heavy chat as well as being physically laid bare like that.

He couldn't help but ask, "I know I've never spent a lot of time with her but I don't remember seeing any scars...?"

"I set her up with some glamours but before that she used to basically cover up head to toe, wore a lot of make up, you would never have seen them."

Honestly, that was more than he needed to know, "You didn't need to tell me any of this."

"I know, and I probably shouldn't have, but you asked and I... I want to make it up to you for lying. And don't think I don't know how hung up you are on my glamours. But that's a conversation for another day, ok?"

He nodded eagerly, "Yeah. Of course. Whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm all ears!"

He cringed a little at his enthusiasm but the fact that Macaque had brought it up had him feeling incredibly hopeful. And if he was being honest, it did go a long way to show him how serious he was.

But this was a tangent that didn't need any more time spent on it right now. He cleared his throat to dismiss any lingering embarrassment and said, "Ok, getting back on track. That's really the only people that know?"

Macaque looked a little unimpressed, "I'm as shocked as you are. Your student could do with a brush up on his observation skills. I think him and a couple of his friends have some suspicions but Red Son hasn't told them anything. He wouldn't dare."

He really did want to defend MK, Macaque was an impressive actor after all, but he felt a little embarrassed on his behalf that he hadn't seemed to have at least clocked that Macaque was pretty much blind. The greatest kindness he could do was move the conversation along however.

"Actually, talking about Red Son. I may have paid him and his folks a visit while you were away."

Macaque looked tired at just the thought, "Yeah, I figured. Let me guess, I'm due to get my ass handed to me?"

"Well, they did say that you were to visit them as soon as possible and they did look pretty pissed. So, I'm going to say chances are high?"

For all that he was upset with Macaque, he didn't think he would wish an angry Gōngzhǔ on anyone.

"Can't say I didn't see this coming. You managed to get back in one piece though?"

"Oh yeah, it was a little tense with Gōngzhǔ but I had such a good heart to heart with Niú afterwards. When did he get so wise and considerate, eh?"

"I think the same way you did but in the reverse order - marriage and a mountain."

Wukong wisely did not mention he had had a pretty famous third thing help with his character development, instead opting to tease, "You think I'm wise?"

"Wise-r. But not by much. Although, can't really say I've got a leg to stand on right now."

"Wow. You really have been humbled by this, haven't you?"

"Give me a couple of days and I'll be back on form."

He was already sounding way better than he had before he left and Wukong found he was almost reluctant to stir up any feelings of fear again but they had to talk about it.

"Yeah, about that. So I spoke with Niú and Gōngzhǔ, saw Red Son's reports and figured they've got that side of things well covered. So I've been thinking of other ways that I could try and help figure out if your condition really is deteriorating and I think I found it."

Macaque frowned but he didn't interrupt.

"You remember, you said you felt it in your soul that you would go back permanently one day? Well, I figured that was worth digging into. Explore where that's coming from and initially I thought I would just be teaching you how to meditate on your spirit, and that's definitely part of it, but when I astral projected to you earlier I saw something sort of concerning."

Macaque had predictably pulled some faces at the idea of spiritual meditation but he looked genuinely confused about his closing statement, "What did you see?"

"I looked like you were in the Void."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean I couldn't see anything but darkness and your soul. I thought that's just how it was when I projected to the Void but you weren't there, right?"

"You can see the Void...?"

He looked a little perturbed by this information and Wukong couldn't blame him, not if he was coming to the same conclusions he was. Macaque looked thoughtful and he waited to see what he came up with.

"That shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't see anything but a representation of my soul... Unless the darkness you're seeing is a part of that...?"

That was unfortunately what he had been thinking too.

It also struck him that he hadn't had to search for Macaque's soul. He had searched where he always did but somehow he had automatically been taken to where he had actually been - that wasn't how it was supposed to work and he shared this realisation with him.

Macaque was quiet as he processed this, before slowly theorising, "The Void isn't a place as such, it's more the space where everything exists, it's everywhere and nowhere all at once. If you were looking for my soul "in" the Void, then if I'm connected to it, I guess you'll always be able to find me regardless of if I'm there or not? But the fact that you're able to access the Void in any capacity..."

That actually had him perking up, "Hey, you're right. Maybe that's an angle we need to explore. We should see if MK or someone can also reach you there."

He was taken aback by how vehemently Macaque shot him down, "Absolutely not. No way. I'm not putting him at risk."

"Woah! At risk? What are you talking about? Worst case scenario, he can't reach you. Sure, he might get a little invested in helping but... What's with that face? What's wrong?"

He looked like he was considering something particularly unpleasant but he seemed to lose whatever argument he was having in his head. Again, he looked at him with the utmost seriousness, "Wukong, I'm going to show you something and you have to swear on the lives of our troupe that you'll never go looking for it, that you'll never use it."

His eyes widened at the stipulation, he wouldn't make him swear on the monkeys unless it was something beyond serious, "Macaque... I can't make that promise. Not without knowing what it is."

Another internal conflict seemed to ensue before defeatedly Macaque pulled something solid from the shadows. And while it looked different but there was no denying what it was.

"You finished your lantern?"

The most notable feature was the vertical shutters that were currently hiding whatever was hiding inside. He was sure they could snap open at Macaque's command however.

Macaque nodded, "A while ago."

He had almost forgotten about it, it had been so long ago that he'd started working on it and he'd never offered any updates on how it was progressing. At the very beginning they had discussed what he was hoping to achieve and his worries over any unintentional functions but that was it.

He had a feeling that the lantern had not gone according to plan and that's why he hadn't been told it was finished.

Warily, he asked, "What does it do?"

"Not what I was hoping it would... I think I inadvertently created a gateway to the Void?"

He pointed at the lantern, "You're saying that I could use this to go to the Void?"

The lantern immediately disappeared back into the shadows as Macaque snapped, "No, that's the exact opposite of what I'm saying. You are not to use it. Your body can't exist in the Void. Only your soul can but it won't survive the experience."

He raised an eyebrow, "How do you know?"

Macaque huffed as he looked away, "How'd you think? I tested it. The few I decided didn't deserve mercy are alive and sorely wishing they weren't. Although, I'm not sure the ones I killed are actually any more at peace. No idea if they even made it to the Dìyù, and if they did who knows if their souls can actually be repaired."

"Jeez, Macaque. How many people have you used this on?"

"Four but trust me they all deserved it."

He'd be lying if said he felt totally comfortable with the fact that Macaque apparently still tortured and killed people. That was the kind of thing he wouldn't have batted an eyelash at back in the day, hell he'd done more than his fair share, but it really wasn't the done thing anymore.

Something must have shown on his face or in his magic because a little defensively, Macaque responded, "I don't just go around killing people for the hell of it but it's not like there's no risk of it when I'm allied with MK and the Demon Bull Clan."

It wasn't an unfair comment. He was sure being associated with him likely didn't help things either. It's not like he wasn't aware Macaque had killed people in recent years - it was sort of inevitable with the company Macaque kept - but they just didn't tend to discuss it in any great detail. Probably something they should address at some point.

"I know. I know. Sorry, I didn't mean to make a face or whatever. It just caught me off guard, I guess. Bottom line though is that the lantern is dangerous for most people but let's face it, I'm not most people."

Macaque looked like he wanted to maul him, and he hastened to add, "Look, I'm not saying I'm in a rush to put it to the test but I don't think we should rule it out completely. It feels pretty significant that I can astral project to you there, right?"

Macaque was not appeased, "I don't care. No matter what happens, you are not to use that lantern. No one is."

He wasn't promising never to use it but he wasn't going to go behind Macaque's back to mess with it, "Fine. But I still think we should get MK to-"

"No."

Alright, this clearly wasn't up for discussion. But he thought Macaque was being overly paranoid. A projection was not the same as sending someone's soul elsewhere and it had the added safety feature of having two anchor points, the projector and the target, albeit the former was more secure than the latter.

But he could see he was only upsetting Macaque, and so he conceded, "Alright. Alright. No getting anyone else involved in Void stuff. We'll do what we can just the two of us, ok?"

Honestly, Macaque didn't look keen on that either but he definitely wasn't winning that argument. And he seemed to accept this but he wasn't quite willing to let it go without a final warning.

"Wukong, you want to help me find ways to explore my soul? Fine. But I need you to understand why you can't take the risk on the Void. Try and imagine it - you have no body, you can't hear, see or feel. You can't speak and you are completely alone. That's enough to drive anyone crazy but then your soul is also aware of every shadow and shape in existence? Even if that didn't warp your soul, when you came back to your body, your mind wouldn't be able to comprehend it. Tell me you understand."

He didn't want to imagine it. It was the sort of thing nightmares were made of. But Macaque was able to survive it. Surely, he couldn't be the only one? But he put any thoughts of them somehow bridging the physical realm and the Void on the back burner for now. Hopefully a lot of meditation would turn up some answers in time.

As seriously as he could, he responded, "I do understand and I swear I'm not going to be reckless about this. I won't willingly put either of us in any sort of danger. I promise."

He withstood Macaque's scrutiny and after a moment he sighed, looking tired, "You haven't even considered the ramifications of me deteriorating, have you? You just believe this will all work out somehow."

He hadn't given it any thought beyond figuring out if it was possible and how to stop it. It didn't seem worth fretting over depressing hypotheticals until he'd at least done the former and he was pretty confident that they had plenty of time before any deteriorating might happen. It irked him slightly that Macaque's tone suggested that he was being naïve about this.

But he kept a level head, "I think we might need to work on finding some middle ground here. You think I'm being too optimistic, but I think you're being way too pessimistic. All the evidence suggests that if anything is happening to you then it's happening so slowly that we have plenty of time to figure it out. You said yourself it might take thousands of years for the Void to take you back. We don't need to obsess over worst case scenarios."

"Wukong..." He hesitated before he seemed to decide to go for it, "I know it's a running joke that we're married but I need you to really consider what it means to dedicate yourself to someone else - in sickness and in health, for better or worse. I need to know that you can think past how you feel right now."

He felt himself growing irritated with how little faith Macaque seemed to have in him but it was cut short as he remembered Niú's words.

Macaque knows what it is to love someone to his own detriment. I have witnessed his loyalty slowly destroy him once before. He does not wish that fate upon you.

The situation was more complex than a lack of faith. He stood by his opinion that Macaque was being pessimistic but he'd clearly given more thought to the future than Wukong had. Generally, he believed it was better to be in the moment than lose time worrying about things yet to happen but, like all things, there was a balance to strike.

He nodded slowly, "Ok, you want me to think about it? I will. Give me some time and then we can talk about what the future might hold and how we feel about it."

Macaque looked surprised at his acceptance before he seemed to backpedal slightly, "Look, I know I'm being super down on everything, I don't want you to think I think we're doomed or whatever. I just... You're right, I'm probably overthinking it, let fear fester and take over."

He took hold of Macaque's hand, "Hey, I don't blame you for being scared, or for worrying about the future. Especially, now that I have some idea of why that is. You've given me a lot to think about, the least I can do is, y'know, actually think about it."

Macaque let out a long breath, "I... Appreciate that. I'll do my part too - I'll talk to you, I'll try not to be so afraid. I don't want to be so scared about the future I miss out on what we have right now. You... think you could help me with that?"

He was sure his expression was something achingly soft as he leaned his head against Macaque's before gently saying, "We are going to do so much mediating."

Macaque's responding groan was like music to his ears.

----

Despite, Macaque's admission that he was afraid, it was clear that being ill and stressed had greatly exacerbated things the other week and Wukong suspected he would not have the same struggle going to the Void next time, which somewhat decreased the urgency to find an immediate answer.

It helped that they were under no illusion that there was a quick fix for this situation and while they both were still very much committed to finding answers, they had instead chosen to focus on addressing their relationship for the time being.

It was very much a work in progress, figuring out how to temper their respective optimism and pessimism to find a middle ground, especially when the roles sometimes flipped, but overall he felt like they were making good progress.

Not to say every moment was filled with serious conversations or deep thoughts because life was very much still going on around them - monkeys were having drama, friends still wanted to meet up, there were plans they'd made to go out in advance that were now upon them and then there was just day to day living.

Although, one unexpected addition to his week had been Macaque's insistence that they consider experimenting with their magic, since somebody had told Niú and Gōngzhǔ that's what had been the kicking off point for the drama the other week.

He had spluttered defensively, "What was I supposed to tell them! "Oh yeah, turns out that I have a dick that fucking glows with magic and it was a bit much." Gōngzhǔ would have actually murdered me!"

Macaque had been in hysterics over his "magic dick" - he'd genuinely cried with laughter. Wukong put aside any embarrassment to make comments to keep him laughing for as long as possible. When he finally calmed down, it was to stroke his ego, "Honestly, magic dick is right. I can't tell you much I'm looking forward to having it again."

His face had been burning even as he tried to weakly argue, "You want to... Even after what happened?"

There had been an impish sparkle in Macaque's eye, "Between magic cock rings, experimenting with magic and some inspired ideas I have in mind, I think it would be a crime not to try again."

He was never going to live the "magic cock ring" thing down but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to find ways to make sex work for them. He wasn't wholly convinced it was a good idea though and it had taken a fair bit of back and forth for Macaque to convince him that sex wasn't inherently dangerous for him. They just had to take their time with it and figure it out.

Despite feeling reassured, he knew he was going to be a bit overcautious for a while to come. Although, he had to admit he was both curious and a little terrified of what Macaque's "inspired ideas" were - with a grin full of mischief he had said he would reveal all when the time was right.

He was sure leaving him in the dark was a deliberate move to work him up because that was definitely the effect it had - unable to stop himself from trying to imagine what he might have planned.

For the moment though, he did his best to put any such salacious thoughts to the back of his mind. He was more than ready to hear Macaque's suggestions for magic experimentation.

"I want to stress test my tolerance for magic."

And he was immediately out. Macaque was quick to try and persuade him, "Don't dismiss it until you've heard the details. I'm not asking you to saturate me in magic until I call uncle and have to hightail it to the Void. I'm talking small-scale, carefully controlled, external experiments."

He was sure there was a silent "to start with" tacked on to the end of that but he let it go for the moment. In theory, knowing how much magic Macaque could comfortably handle before it became too much could be incredibly useful but he didn't like the idea of having to get close to the limit in order to find it.

But Macaque's initial request was just to experiment with different intensities of orbs of their magic to see how they reacted and that was such a benign ask that he was more than happy to oblige. They'd done similar exercises before when they had been trying to help him with his fear of foreign magic after all and there had been no issues then.

Macaque had looked increasingly thoughtful as they'd carried on and when asked he confessed, "Being totally honest, it's not just the intensity of magic that's the issue but the other metric I'm interested in is a little more difficult to figure out."

"What is it?"

Bizarrely, Macaque looked a little embarrassed, coughing a little before admitting, "Well, the intensity of emotion you're feeling might be just as important with regards to how overwhelming your magic is. It might be possible that I can actually handle quite a lot of your magic if there's not so much emotion behind it."

He hadn't really understood what he'd meant for a moment but the out of character bashfulness had made it click and he felt his face redden. When they had slept together, all he'd been able to think about was Macaque and while he hoped his feelings were coming across, he hadn't meant for it to happen quite so literally.

They couldn't quite meet each other's eyes as Macaque continued, "Yeah... Er, not saying it wasn't something to be able to feel how you felt in the moment but feeling someone else's emotions while you're having plenty of your own, on top of some magic sensitivity? It was... a lot."

He wasn't sure what the correct response was to that, but a little mortified to literally have thrust such raw, unguarded emotion on to Macaque, he tired, "I...Uh, Sorry? I mean, not about how I felt but- Er, actually maybe a little bit about how I felt? But I didn't mean to, y'know, have that happen."

He wasn't sure why he was so embarrassed. He already knew that Macaque could pick up on his emotions pretty accurately through his magic just by being near him. Though he sort of likened that to being able to tell by someone's expression how they were feeling. But to be able to feel exactly what he'd been feeling in that moment? In all it's intensity? To know how absolutely sickeningly besotted he was with him?

He was never going to recover.

A little shyly, Macaque admitted, "I didn't hate it. It was... Pretty incredible actually. I, er, sort of wish you could know what it felt like but, y'know, the other way round."

He was powerless but to move closer as he asked, "Yeah...?"

"Yeah... Only fair, right? For you to know how I feel."

Later, he would ponder if it could be possible. If he honed his magic sensitivity to even a fraction of that of Macaque's maybe he would be able to feel it to some extent. There were doubtless plenty of exercises that he could try. And the payoff would definitely be worth the effort.

For right now though, he was a little too enamoured by the charged atmosphere that was surrounding them. Their tails found each other almost unthinkingly, but once hands started to find their way to hips and shoulders however he could only be thankful for how efficiently the shadows could get them somewhere private.

----

It was a rare thing for MK to drop by unannounced but apparently he'd been flying back home from visiting a friend when he realised how close to the island he was and had decided to drop in and say hi. He'd been apologetic for not calling ahead but Wukong had been quick to wave him off, he was always welcome here and Wukong was always happy to see him.

Macaque had, of course, heard him well before he reached them and had told him he would hang out elsewhere on the island so the two could catch up. It really wasn't necessary, it would be nice for all three of them to spend some time together, and he'd said as much. A quick compromise had been reached though, because as much as he'd meant what he'd said, he did love having some one-on-one time with MK. Macaque would join them in a little while.

Currently MK was showing him videos and pictures from Gōngzhǔ and Niú's most recent party and filling him in on highlights from the night. He'd already seen most of it online, and Macaque had been there so he'd already heard all the gossip but none of that was anywhere near a good enough reason to stop him from listening with rapt attention.

It was as he was flicking through the pictures that he stopped on one that had Macaque in the background with a woman beside him, he asked MK, "Oh, is that this Lady Jiānyá that Mac was telling me about?"

"Hm? Oh yeah! She would not leave him alone! I think she thought he was just playing hard to get or something? Which is weird because I thought it was pretty common knowledge that he was with you."

Well, it was common knowledge to those that knew them and probably anyone employed by the Demon Bull Clan but outside of that the world likely assumed the Monkey King was happily single, kicking back, enlightened, on Flower Fruit Mountain. And really it was probably better that way - it would bring Macaque no shortage of hardships to advertise who he was in a relationship with.

He considered the photo, interest in Lady Jiānyá already lost, as he focused on Macaque's outfit, "Well, with a getup like that who can blame her for trying her luck? I think that might be some of my finest work."

MK laughed, "Oh yeah, that's what she was interested in. Although, I've got to admit it is a super nice outfit. I can never get over the fact that you make all Mac's clothes from scratch! Maybe I should come to you next time I have to go to one of these parties!"

He had been teasing but Wukong's tail gave an excited little flick even as he tried to play it cool, "Y'know, I probably have some outfits that are just your size - how about we go have a look? See if there's anything you fancy."

Outfits that were exactly his size, made specifically for him. And he had designs for plenty more.

MK put up some token protests, but he was easily swayed and the two of them spent a very enjoyable afternoon trying on the various clothes that he had made for both of them.

MK had clocked on pretty fast that these outfits had been tailor made for him and he had questioned, a little suspiciously, how Wukong had possibly gotten his measurements. But that was an easy answer - the Tailor Trio, at Red Son's request, had made MK a number of outfits over the years and they weren't hard to bribe.

And then Macaque joined them and he had been disgusted by the lack of flair to this fashion show and so with a little bit of magic they had a mini cat walk with an audience to go with it. Macaque, star and director of the whole thing, obviously.

He was surprised no monkeys had been drawn to the fun and he had a feeling Macaque was possibly doing something to keep them at bay. Which he appreciated because to be honest he would be more than a little upset if they ruined any of these clothes.

By the end of the day, MK had a phone filled with pictures of the three of them and he had a feeling he might have to make some more clothes for some more people once a certain dragon saw them. But he found he wasn't too upset about that as he and Macaque cheerfully said their goodbyes to MK.

----

It was long after they'd had dinner that night that Macaque interrupted the show they were watching to say, "It wasn't just your outfit that had Lady Jiānyá all over me, y'know."

Wukong had looked at him uncomprehendingly for a long moment, before giving up, "What?"

Disinterestedly, he responded, "I could be wearing rags and I'd still have suitors begging for even a glance in their direction."

He turned so he could face Macaque, leaning back on the arm of the chair, bemused, "Oh? You trying to say I don't know that it wasn't just my incredible talent that had that demon fawning over you?"

"Wasn't just her. I basically have to fight off interested parties with a stick every time I attend one of those parties."

He propped his head up on his arm, as he grinned, "You don't say? Must be that humility of yours that they find so attractive."

He wasn't sure what Macaque's angle was here - was he fishing for compliments? Neither of them were really one for calling the other handsome or beautiful or the like but he wasn't against it in theory. Or did he want a reaction? It would be unusual but he could maybe see that being something Mac could be into.

It turned out to be neither.

"I know I'm no "Handsome" Monkey King but believe it or not people think I'm quite the looker." The façade broke, "Or they did. Back when my face actually looked like this."

Oh.

He sat up a little straighter, all humour leaving him, as he waited for Macaque to continue.

He laughed a little self-deprecatingly, "It feels like something I should have grown out of. The desire to have everyone looking at me in awe. God knows, without the glamours it wouldn't be anything close to awe they looked at me with. It would be with pity, revulsion, if they could even stand to look at me at all. I can't say that doesn't at least play a small part in why I can't take them down around you."

He would like to say that it didn't matter to him how Macaque looked, that he'd love him regardless, but while it may be true. It wasn't helpful, and that wasn't what he was worried about.

"Macaque... I can't say that I wouldn't look at you differently without your glamours. Especially, not at first. Pity and revulsion wouldn't get a look in but I couldn't pretend that it would never upset or anger me to see the evidence of everything you've been through. But I've also never really looked at you with awe because of your looks, y'know? Not because you aren't, y'know, objectively attractive or anything I just..."

It felt awkward to say he'd never really looked at Macaque's face and thought it was beautiful. But he hadn't ever thought of anyone's face like that. He understood what most people considered to be attractive but he had just never really understood it.

That's not to say that he didn't love Macaque's face. The way his eyes lit up with mischief, or the way he showed so many teeth when he laughed, or the hundreds of other little expressions he knew so well - they all certainly invoked beautiful feelings within him.

Maybe he was worrying over semantics but he didn't think that Mac's scars would stop him feeling that way.

But equally, he wasn't sure how he'd feel about having such prominent scars, he already hid the ones he did have from everyone but Macaque and the monkeys. And he could admit he had enough pride and vanity that he'd probably struggle with letting the world see him with scars like Macaque's.

He could tell himself all he wanted that he would still feel comfortable having his glamours off around Macaque but he wasn't sure if it was actually true.

Mac's didn't seem to take offence though, "I know... But the thought of standing next to you, the Handsome Monkey King, looking the way I do... It just fills me with shame."

It would be nothing short of insulting to mention he had his own scars that likely made him less attractive. It wasn't comparable, Macaque's scars were disfiguring, if he were to go without his glamours out in the world people would stop and stare.

But he wasn't out in the world, he was here, with him, and he shouldn't ever have to feel ashamed of how he looked, especially not in comparison to him but it didn't feel enough to say that.

Slowly he started, "How do we work on that? To make that feeling go away? What-?" He made a quiet, frustrated sound as tried to reword his question better, "How did you overcome that feeling last time? You know, when we were..."

Macaque looked faintly embarrassed as he looked away, "It was just a heat of the moment thing. I just... I know how badly you want to see me without my glamours and in that moment all I could feel was... was how much you loved me and... everything just felt right, like it would be ok, I wasn't thinking of the consequences. I... I just wanted to give as much as I was getting and to be as close to you as possible, no hiding away."

Macaque paused for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words, before continuing, "I'm not saying I don't want that now, I do, but even if I can get over the shame. We don't, I mean, I don't want to-" he took a breath and faced him, "Wukong, some of my scars will just bring up a whole host of bad and awkward feelings. And we'll probably have to talk about it and I don't know if I'll ever be ready to talk about that day."

There was no need to ask what day he was referring to. They had talked around it during their big reconciliation years ago but neither of them had been prepared to discuss it in detail.

He had the sudden realisation that Macaque hadn't let down all his glamours last time, there were two glaring scars missing that his tired and hazy mind hadn't picked up on at the time. There should have been matching scars on Macaque's back and stomach.

His ears started ringing.

After their bloody fight, Macaque had made a desperate lunge for his master and all he had been able to think about was stopping him. He had brought his staff down on his back with such force that it went right through him, pinning him to the earth.

He hadn't paused, letting go of his staff and moving his master a safe distance away. But he hadn't been able to let go of his master's arms as he stood trembling as he heard the choked sobs from behind him, unable to comprehend what he had just done, immortality be damned.

Seconds had felt like an eternity before his master's gentle call of his name had registered. He had let go and slowly turned around to see that the gruesome scene he had created had gotten worse.

One eye was how it had been - swollen, the blood he'd gotten in it forcing it shut but the other... In the seconds he'd had his back turned Macaque had clawed it out.

He's not sure why he just stood there, watching as Macaque's hitching breaths faded to nothing. Distantly, he knew that he had to remove his staff so that the peaches could start to heal the wound but he couldn't move.

He'd killed Macaque.

The peaches would revive him but that didn't change what he'd done.

He had flinched at his master's featherlight touch on his shoulder, not able to hear whatever he might have been saying. It was enough to finally break his trance however and he unsteadily made his way over to Macaque.

His hands shook as they took hold of his staff, and a sob escaped him when it didn't immediately come free, embedded in the ground below, he didn't want to force it out. Thankfully, his master had followed him, quietly telling him to shrink it.

He narrowed it and pulled it free before staggering back and collapsing to his knees a short distance away, unable to look away.

Hollow and hoarse, he said, "Master, you have to get away. When he comes back, I don't know what he'll do. Go to the others. I... I'll think of something."

"Wukong, he's..."

"He's eaten the immortal peaches. In a few minutes he'll be breathing again, in a few hours he'll be standing. You need to leave."

His master had been doubtful and it had taken a desperate shout for him to leave for him to finally walk away.

He kept up his vigil as his mind desperately tried to think of what to do, of what to say. But it all became meaningless as minutes became hours and nothing changed - his wounds didn't heal, his chest didn't begin to rise and fall.

He had started to babble in that time - apologies, admonishments, pleas - becoming increasingly desperate as time went on. When eventually he found the strength to use his Golden Vision it revealed nothing but a corpse.

His staff rolled from his lap as he finally released it from the white knuckled hold he'd had on it, "Mac...?"

He stood unsteadily, hand outreached as he took a step closer, only for Macaque's body to suddenly start to melt in a familiar purple hue. He tripped as he tried to get to him but by the time he fell to his knees beside where he had been he was grasping at shadows.

He swallowed down his nausea. Just the mention of that day was enough to leave him feeling sick and retched. He did his best to focus on Macaque in front of him, here and alive.

He took a steadying breath, "I understand. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it either. I... I didn't mean to put any pressure on you about your glamours. I'd be lying if I didn't want to see you without them but you have your reasons for keeping them on and I promise I respect that. You never have to take them off if you don't want to. I won't ever ask you to."

Macaque looked a little frustrated, "But that's the thing. I do want to take them off, I just can't work up the nerve."

Wukong considered this carefully before tentatively suggesting, "I know it might involve a bit of work on reconfiguring things on your end but maybe you can just take off some of your glamours...? Like, so maybe just some of your scars show or your ears maybe?"

Macaque looked uncertain as he responded, "Yeah, I... I could maybe do that. I only have a couple of spots with extra glamours but I could try and change that..."

He was quick to reassure him, "You don't have to though! I'm just spitballing ideas!"

"No, it's a good idea. I should have thought of it myself really. I'll think about it." He then stood up, "I think I need a minute though."

Despite the bolt of anxiety that went through him, he nodded, "Yeah, sure, of course. I, er, I'll be right here."

Macaque walked over to him and brought a hand to his face as he kissed his cheek, "I'll just be in my room."

He hesitated, before giving into the urge to wrap his arms tightly around him for only a moment. He might want to be as close as possible to Macaque after remembering that awful day but he could imagine remembering the same thing might cause him to want the exact opposite.

He let him go with a quiet, "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll get you in bed later, ok?"

"Ok."

----

Glamours didn't come up again for a little while, Wukong determined not to mention them before Macaque did.

But it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him when one day between getting up to grab a drink from the kitchen and coming back to sit on the couch Macaque had taken down some of his glamours with absolutely no warning.

He choked on his drink as he noticed that two ears had become six and he wasted precious time coughing up a lung. Despite laughing at him, it was clear Macaque was tense, clearly nervous about how their appearance would be received.

That didn't stop Wukong from cursing him and complaining that he'd done that on purpose but once the theatrics were out the way he let his eyes have their fill, flicking between each set and taking in every little detail.

The left set were exactly as they'd always been but Macaque hadn't opted to hide away the scarring on the right and Wukong felt an odd mix of gratitude and pride towards him for that.

He shuffled closer, raising his hands slowly, "Can I...?"

Macaque closed his eyes as he nodded and Wukong couldn't stop himself from keeping his touch feather soft as he ran his fingers along them with reverence. The texture on his right ears was notably different but he was in no way deterred.

"Can I...?"

Macaque nodded again, not needing any clarification, as he tilted his head so his good ears were closer to him.

This had been a favourite game of Wukong's back when they were younger. Tackling Macaque so he could cup his ears and see how they were glowing. You could only see the faint light in the dark but they had been the prettiest colours.

They had never been able to figure out why they glowed or if the different colours meant anything. All six ears always glowed the same colour but nothing seemed to prompt a particular shade to appear. Macaque's emotions or his physical state didn't seem to matter, not did any environmental factor. They just glowed however they liked.

He found himself nervous to see if they still glowed or if the Void had taken that from him too. He didn't let himself hesitate however, cupping his hands around all three ears and bringing his face right up next to them, he couldn't explain the relief he felt when he saw the faintest lavender glow from within.

He gave a small laugh as he pulled back, feeling a little emotional, he said, "They still glow."

He wasn't sure what to make of Macaque's expression as he asked, "What colour?"

"Lavender."

His expression fell slightly but he turned his head and offered the other set of ears before he could ask, "Check the other ones for me?"

He did so and it was with great reluctance he pulled back and told him, "I don't see anything."

He looked like he'd been expecting as much as Wukong moved his hands away so that Macaque could bring up one of his own to lightly touch his ears, "I guess I should be grateful that the left ones glow at all. Even if they probably don't glow the same as they did. I have a feeling they won't change from that colour."

Wukong brought up a hand to rest on his good ears, gently running his thumb over them, "I'll check them again later. But for what it's worth, they're still one of the prettiest colours I've ever seen."

Macaque huffed a little laugh, "Well, listen to you, Casanova."

"I'm serious. I hope you're prepared for me to try and get a look at them every time your ears are unglamoured."

Macaque rolled his eyes, "Just like back in the day, eh?"

He grinned, "Not quite because now every time I look at them I'll pay the toll."

"Oh? What toll?"

He leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss on the rim of each of his left ears. The last one he left with an audible "mwah", before pulling back and looking pleased with himself.

Macaque laughed, "You think that's the price of admission, huh? That all the "one of the prettiest colour you've ever seen" is worth to you?"

He kissed his lips before pulling back just enough to say, "Name your price. I'll pay anything for the privilege."

Macaque's tone was full of the mischief he loved so much, "Anything? That's brave of you. You sure about that?"

"When have I ever backed down? Try me."

He felt Macaque's hands slide up his thighs to rest on his hips, "How about we take this somewhere more comfortable and negotiate the terms? I want to see how persuasive you can be."

The answer was very.

Especially, when three sets of ears proved even more sensitive to honeyed words infused with magic than one.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[valfeathers]

“baby, both arms cradle you now,

both arms cradle you now”

[skwivr]

-

[fatcowboys]

tonsillectomy has fucked my sleep schedule and also I am craving every food under the SUN rn but won't be able to enjoy most of them for like another week I have list of foods I'm gonna eat once I'm able to

[noxtivagus]

ain soph aur making me feel things i shld be asleep rn 😭😭

[untimelyambition]

anyone who talked about skipping Any of the nuwho doctors is going through my shredder

Hi any people who enjoy doctor who I want to get into the new stuff where do I start from?

[lov3notts]

"you what?"

ᥫ᭡Theodore Nott x F!Readerᥫ᭡

summary: accidentally drinking a lust potion, you asked your best friend Theo for help.

warning: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, size kink maybe? cream pie.

word count: 2.4k

18+only; minors don’t interact

“You what?” Theo’s eyes widened, you wanted him to do what? He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not but if it was he didn’t want to wake up

Earlier that day , you had accidentally drank a lust potion. 

How, you might ask?

Well the boys (Enzo/ Mattheo) thought it would be funny to prank Draco by giving him a lust potion as payback for pranking them earlier that week

At lunch the 2 boys were there first, taking their usual spots they slip the potion to a bottle of Draco's favorite drink and placing it on the spot were Draco usually sits

One by one the group gets to the table ,leaving you and Draco left. 

Soon both of you walk in, but you seem to be in a rush

“Sorry guys I can’t stay and chat, I have to get back to studying, i’m just here to get some food to eat while studying” grabbing random things and the only drink you see left, you quickly stuff it in your purse

“Wait y/n!” Enzo saying frantically, giving Matt a worried look

You look up at Enzo as you start to zip up your bag. “Yeah?” 

“We were actually saving that for Draco, um- were having practice later and that’s his favorite”

“Omg I’m so sorry! Here-“ as your opening you bag Draco comes behind you , going to sit down 

“I actually got my own drink, y/n can have it” Dracos says while pulling out his drink from his bag,

Enzo’s and Mattheos’s eye widen.

“I- um, but we got it for you” Matt says with a bit of a shaky voice 

“Its fine, I don’t need it” as he waves his drink showing the 2 boys

“But-“ 

“Omg thank you Draco, I really have to go now guys see you later” you say as you're walking away before the boys have a chance to take away the drink.

Both Enzo and Matt try to call you back but you’re already gone, both freaking out inside. praying you don't find out what they did.

While studying in your dorm you couldn’t focus for more than 10 seconds. Thinking you might just be tired from all the studying you took a break. Getting up from your desk you head towards your bed. Laying in your bed you start to space out

At first it was all innocent thoughts, school, weekend plans but then they started to shift The only thing you could think of was pleasure. Thinking of a certain boy made your cunt throb, making your body hot

Your hand slowly creeps down to your shorts. Slowly playing with yourself imagining it was Theo’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh god Theo” you moaned 

but no matter how good it felt you couldn’t reach your climax. You were so needy and nothing was working. The rising heat from your body only made things more uncomfortable.

“God what is wrong with me, and why is it so hot” getting up from your bed you walk towards your desk, trying to find your drink, in hopes of it cooling you down . You picked up the bottle and before you can finish the drink you saw something written on the bottom of the bottle

“Payback- Enzo and Mattheo”

Your eyes widened with confusion. 

What?

Then you remembered how the drink was meant for Draco. 

everything started to make sense

This is why you were like this

You couldn’t even be mad at them, Your mind was clouded with the urge to get any satisfaction you could. all you wanted was any sort of pleasure but nothing was good enough. it started to get painful and a sudden thought popped in your head. Theo

he’d help right? He was really the only one you can go to. 

Your heart was racing at just the thought of Theo agreeing to help you out, being best friends all these years you had developed a crush on him, of course you never acted on it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship 

Pacing back and forth your room, you finally decide to ask him for help. Nervously picking up your phone, you open Theo’s contact.

“Theo?”

“Hey Bella, what’s up?”

The nickname itself making you get butterflies.

 “Um- I need a favor, can you come over?”

“Of course, i'll be over in a few”

“Okay see you” hanging up the phone, your thoughts begin to consume you

What if he says no?

What if he laughs at your face and runs off

What if…

What if he says yes… 

Before you can continue, there was a knock on your door. That must be him. Slowly walking to your door, palms sweaty, you turn your door knob

“Hey, what did you need help with?” Theo goes in to give you a hug

Hugging him back, your nose is infused with his cologne  

God why does he always smell so good

He lets go and looks at you closely, he moves a strain of hair behind your ear to have a better look at you. His eyebrows frown, noticing your face is flustered and incredibly warm.

“Are you okay? Your face is warm” resting his hand on your cheek

“Yeah, um actually funny story-“ Quickly leading him to sit on the edge of your bed, holding his hands as you begin to explain

“Please just hear me out. I know it's odd ,but I have no one to go to,- just please-“ falling to your knees, begging.

“Hey hey, breathe. You know I'm here if you need anything. Now tell me, what’s up?” Theo's eyes looking at you with worry.

“Please I- I need you to fuck me” you blur out

That was the last thing Theo thought would come out of your mouth. 

You wanted him to what???

He was speechless, absolutely at a loss of words. jaw wide open

“Please, I'm sorry for asking you for this, I know it’s a lot and we’re best friends. But please I can’t take it anymore. I accidentally drank something that wasn’t meant to me and it had this effect on me. I’ve tried everything but nothing is working. I need your help please” your face heating up from embarrassment . I mean you only ever had the biggest crush on your best friend for years, but what you didn’t know was that so did Theo.

Theo had dreamt of the day he got to be with you.

How’d he spend hours pleasuring himself of the thought of you under him, on top of him and how good you’d take him in your mouth. God, was he hard the second you asked him to help you out.

How could he say no? 

Without another thought he picked you up from the floor. Sitting down back on your bed while you straddled his lap.

Looking into your eyes, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on your cheek, he leaded in.  

Your soft lips on his, both whimpering into the intense kiss. Licking your bottom lip asking for access. You gladly gave it to him. 

Slowly rocking your hips on his clothed boner, trying to find any friction to satisfy you.

Slowly laying you down your bed, taking off your clothes until you were left in nothing but your matching black lace set. 

“Don’t worry Bella, i’ll take good care of you” Theo whispers as he starts to leave a trail of kisses down your body

“Theo please~” you pleaded, needing to feel something, anything.

“poor thing, you’ve must of been so uncomfortable for such a long time, don’t worry i’m here now”

He stopped to look at your lying body, face all flustered, messy hair. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he wasn’t lying, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Always jealous of your ex boyfriends because they got to be with you. But now it was his turn and he was going to give you the best you’d ever gotten, he was going to ruin every other guy you’ve been with. 

Slowly pulling your panties off, dick throbbing at the sight of your wet glistening pussy. Trying to ignore his throbbing cock and focus on you, he gives you a sweet smile. 

“You're soaking wet, so ready for me” leaving little kisses around your pussy, teasing. finally burying his face between your legs, painfully slow licks as he takes it in, savoring every moment. 

As soon as you felt his tongue, you became a whimpering mess.  

“Theo~ oh my god yes” moving your hand to his hair, giving it a little tug. 

Theo couldn’t hold it in anymore, he started to devour you. eating you out as if he’d never get this opportunity ever again

“You taste so fucken good” he groaned against your dripping core. The vibrations sending you waves of pleasure 

“More please, Theo! oh my god~” it felt so good, his tongue making you feel things you’ve never felt before with anyone else

“So polite, even when your so needy” Theo smirked as he sees how much of a mess you were for him

He starts so pump one of his fingering into you while eating you out. Soon enough you felt the feeling you were craving for

“M-so close, fuck Theo i’m so close”

He stops what he’s doing, getting up grasping on his zipper and undoing the button. Tugging his jeans and boxers off. 

“Theo? Why’d you stop? I was so close” you looked at him with teary eyes. you were so close, god why did he stop

“Sorry princess, I wanna be in you, want you cum on my cock” godddd was he hot

His cock strung out his pants hitting his stomach , you were lost for words. In no world was Theodore Nott small, he was big- huge even. you’ve never taken anything close to his size.

Theo noticed your starring

“Like what you see?” A smile tugged the corner of his lips

“Don’t worry you can take it, I know you can”

You nodded at his works 

He lined himself up to your pussy, tracing himself up and down, teasing you.

“You have no idea how long i've been wanting to do this for” 

“Fuck ,Theo please, please fuck me” you whined 

“Anything for you, love”

he slowly pushed himself into you. You both let out a loud moan. 

“fuck, your so tight” Theo was out of breath.

You felt so good around him that he never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck Theo your big” you said panting 

“You think you can take more?”

More???

“There’s more??” Looking at Theo with a disbelief face

He chuckled “i’m only have way”

“Don’t worry you can handle it, can’t you baby?”

“Mhm- yes yes, I can take it”

Pushing the reset of himself into you. bottoming you out. heavily breathing, getting comfortable with the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“good girl ,You’re doing so well for me, are you ready?”

“Yes! fuck-please move, please” you begged

Brining your legs above his shoulders and laying them there. Gripping your ankles to keep you steady as he started to thrust into you. Both a moaning mess

“Fuck fuck fuckkk, Theo-” your eyes roll back, arching your back.

“You feel so good Bella, oh god-“ panting 

“Your squeezing me tight- fuck”

One of his hands moving to your waist. fucking you harder now, unable to stop. His cock was so fucking good, hitting your g-spot every time.

“Fuck Theo just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop please!” Your hands holding onto your bed sheets as he rocks his hips.

“You like that huh? You like it when your best friend is pounding into you, god you look so beautiful, taking all of me like a good girl” he groans while leaving kisses on your ankle.

Your walls clenching at his words

He groaned again as he felt your cunt throb at his praise. 

“Oh you like being called a good girl don’t you?” letting go of your ankle to grip your jaw to make you look at him.

“Who's a good girl are you?” Theo says as he speeds up his thrusts

Looking at him with half lidded eyes “Yours, all yours!!~“ you moan

“That’s right all mine, no one can ever make you feel this good, isn’t that right love?”

 “Mhm only you, ah~ i'm so close”

“Cum for me baby, come all over my cock”

You were absolute bliss, god you’ve never seen fucked this good, yeah you’ve had other hookups but nothing can compared to this, to Theo

You moaned loudly, shutting your eyes as you reached your orgasm “im- im cumming!!” Your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling

The way your walls clenched from cumming made Theo on the verge of spilling. He continues to thrust into you through your first orgasm. He didn’t expect you make such a mess all over his dick, your cum spilling out of you as he thrusts into you

You felt Theo twitch inside of you, knowing he’s close you moved his hand from your waist to your breasts.

“Mmm so soft…” Theo whispered. leaning down, putting his tongue on your nipple, swirling it around. “Mmm Theo that feels good” throwing your head back from a little act. Theo was soon approaching his climax.  

“Fuckk- can I cum inside of you? please oh god I can’t hold it anymore, please? Fuck-” Theo begged as he tried to hold it in, waiting for you response 

“Yes!! fuck Theo cum inside me” you practically screamed as you felt you stomach tighten.

He let out a loud moan as he spilled his cum inside of you. You screamed as you felt his warm cum spilling in you, triggering your second orgasm.

Theo’s thrusts became sloppy, riding out both your highs. He pulled out and laid beside you. Dizzy and breathless, taking a moment to catch your breath.  Finally when you both got steady, you look up at Theo

“Thank you Theo, really”

“No need to thank me Bella, you can come to me for anything anytime” smiling at you.

crawling onto his lap you whispered into his ear ��stay the night? I don’t think the drink has worn off just yet~”

This was going to be a long night for Theo.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

a/n: Thank you for reading my first ever fic!! a special mention to @leona-hawthorne for being an angel and giving me feedback on my first rough draft. It helped a lot:)!! another honorable mention to @nottsangel!! Im that anon who mentioned writing their first story, hope you like it^-^ thank you both, your blogs have inspired me to start writing. xoxo

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[ddejavvu]

Cant stop thinking about Logan bending Wades darling little sister (in her 20s) over the kitchen table while Waded out on a mission. That is all I can think about right now

Insatiable - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. age gap (legal; reader is in her 20's, logan is like... 200 years old.), wilson!reader, dirty talk, slight breeding mentioned

The only reason you're able to do it in the kitchen is because Wade isn't home, and you'd managed to shut the door on his pathetically endearing little dog. Mary Puppins is probably tearing up Wade's poor excuse for a comforter right now, and Logan is tearing up- well.

You.

Your pussy.

You're bent so far over the counter that your tits are cold, your nipples stiff and sensitive against the countertop. The pressure against them hurts, or maybe it's a lack of other stimulation against them- either way, they're stinging and you wish to right yourself and tug mercilessly at them.

But Logan's weight- not the full load, or you'd be crushed - is holding you down, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the smooth counter for purchase that you'll never find as you're rocked steadily into the cabinets below.

Logan's cock is buried so deep inside of you that you're not sure he'll ever get it out again, but then he does, and then he thrusts back in and you're hit all over again with a sense of shit, I didn't know I went that deep. He's found your limit, stretched your cunt to the breaking point with his impressive length, and his facial hair tickles the side of your face as he takes your cunt from behind.

Your face smacks painfully against the cabinets over the counter and Logan reaches a hand up to cover your forehead, "Shit, be careful. Head down, honey, there you go. Wouldn't want Big Brother finding an imprint of your face in the wood."

"Whaddya think he'd say?" Logan's suddenly snickering, a gruff delight to his voice as he rams his cock inside you once more, thrusting at a steady, merciless pace, "Shit, if he knew my old ass had his sweet little sister pinned up against the counter..."

Wade would kill him. Or try valiantly to, as it's been established before by Wade's best efforts that Logan is one difficult motherfucker to kill. But you don't fancy a bloodbath even if the vessel will survive, so you tuck yourself tight to the counter so that you won't have to explain to Wade why the cupboard door is off its hinges.

Leaning forwards more only pushes your ass out further, and Logan groans, dick twitching, as he's able to thrust more viciously beneath the curve of your ass. He's humping you like a dog, a depraved pace set as he chases an impending orgasm.

"Taking you in your brother's house- aagh, shit," Logan grunts, nose nudging against the back of your neck as he inhales your sweat, "God he's gonna drop his swords on this fucking counter as soon as he walks through the door, not- not even gonna know your tits were smashed up against it. He's gonna get coke from that cabinet in an hour," Logan's voice is strained, moreso the faster he pumps his hips, and all you can do is cry out as he ravages your cunt, "He's never gonna know I made his sister cream up against it. Never gonna know I fucked my fuckin' babies into you here, aah- agh-I-!"

Logan bites, hard against your shoulder, catching some of your neck in the process and introducing yet another blindingly painful sensation that turns into sick, twisted pleasure between your legs. Your cunt is spent, barely capable of another orgasm after you'd already had two fucked out of you before, but it gives you its best shot as Logan's thick, warm cum gushes into you, immediately too much for your poor pussy to handle as it drips down your thighs instead.

Logan relinquishes your shoulder with a low groan, his breath coming hot and heavy as he pants, "You alright?"

"Yeah," You whimper, legs shaking as Logan holds you steady, "I- I don't think I can stand anymore."

"That's okay." Logan hums, gentler now that he's fucked himself calm. He peels you off of the counter, supporting your body weight as he half-walks, half-drags you down the hallway towards his bedroom, "Next round's on my bed, sweetheart. You won't need to move a muscle."

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・jjk men waking up after a wet dream about you ⸜⸜・

gojo

a small chuckle leaves his mouth when he wakes up from a pleasant dream about you. his cock is aching for attention, precum already building at the top. it's the first time he had a dream about you. not to lie, he fantasized about your cute little body before but never in a dream. he wraps his hand around his cock and tries to remember little details about the dream. the way you would bounce on his cock or your little hand wrapped around it. he's not ashamed, you're a pretty girl after all. but from your behavior, he can see that you're shy and timid. maybe he can ask you out to turn his dream true. he speeds his hand around his cock, bringing himself closer to his orgasm. he thinks about a specific scene from his dream - you spread in front of him with your fingers in your cunt. he cums at the thought, covering his hand with his cock. he giggles, gojo hopes he will have similar dream soon.

geto

he wakes up with sweat on his forehead, groaning when he notices his hard on. the girl in his dream was too similar to you, same hair, eyes, body type. he can't believe he had this kind of dream about you. it was a good dream, he has to say. geto can't decide if he should take a cold shower and forget about everything or take care of his little problem. after all, he's gonna see you today and he doesn't wanna be awkward. his lips turn into a little smile as he thinks about what would happen if you saw what he is about to do. or what if you had the same dream? mmm, you took his cock so well in his dream, would you be able to do that in real life? he's seen your tiny ass move in your little skirts, you would have problem taking him for sure. fuck it, he thinks as he wraps his hand around his cock. he softly massages his shaft, imagining that it's your tiny hand stroking him. all problems leave him in that moment, he's gonna relive that dream now and hopefully later today when he invites you over.

nanami

he groans when he finally opens his eyes to meet a familiar decor of his room. he doesn't wanna think about it, he doesn't wanna think about how hard his cock is right now. he throws his arm around his eyes, trying to breathe deeply to forget all about the dream. he hasn't had a wet dream since he was a teenager and now someone like you is gonna make them pop up again? he thought you were cute when he first met you but he never thought you would be capable of doing such a slutty things. it was just a dream, he has to remind himself, maybe you are innocent. he taps his fingers on his cock, he really doesn't wanna do this. nanami tries to think of different porn starts he's seen online but his thoughts come back to you. his hand finally grips his cock and he squeezes it until it's painful. it's all your fault, maybe it you weren't so cute, he wouldn't have to do this.

toji

she's even haunting me in my dream, toji thinks when he wakes up. his cock is already standing proudly, just begging for him to take it in his hand. he doesn't waste any time wrapping his hand around it. he always thought you were pretty, your body is basically all he ever dreamed about. it's not the first time you appeared in his dream but this time, he is certain that it was you. all of the other dreams were blurry but this one was way more vivid. he strokes his cock slowly, thinking about the way you bended for him in that dream. the only thing that's pissing him off is that you're not here with him right now, that you can't use your mouth or your little pussy on him. he feels himself getting close as he thinks about all the things he would do to you if he could. he cums on his hand, surprising himself how strong this orgasm was. there's something about you and he has to find out what it is.

[honey-tongued-devil]

↞[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire↠

Since I've created a Bluesky profile and wrote my thesis on Arcane, I'll be posting both old and new drawings there as soon as the time comes. I'm taking advantage of this little space to promote my other social account. honey-tongued.bsky.social Also, I've received both comments and requests, but Tumblr decided I couldn’t post for a week (my internet connection is terrible). I want to let you know that I appreciate them, and I'll get to everything as soon as I can. So, feel free to leave comments, feedback, or requests!

Jayce: 

- This is the worst news he could receive: he's a scholar, he has no idea how to handle these situations, and, most of all, he's forced to confront his pride.  

- Not only was he unable to protect you now, but what if it happens again? Even if he's there, he wouldn't know what to do.  

- What if there's a next time? What if it doesn't turn out as well next time?  

- His self-sabotage leads him to distance himself from you for a few days, not because he doesn't want to be near you while you're hurting, but because he's ashamed of not being able to protect the person he loves.  

- On the bright side, for even just a second, he remembers the original purpose of his research: making the city safe, helping people.  

- But on the negative side, with no one to blame, more than ever, the people of Zaun appear to him as beasts, second-class humans who can't be redeemed in any way.  

- When he finally gathers the courage to see you again, he tries to make amends for everything: for not protecting you, for not being able to, for allowing someone to hurt you, and for not being there during your recovery.  

- He'll literally do anything to be forgiven: every morning you'll find breakfast in bed, if it's cold at night he'll prepare a warmer for your feet, and despite his squeamishness, he'll personally tend to your wounds, even if it makes him feel queasy.

Viktor:

- He tries to help you in every way possible, even ignoring his own pain.  

- He feels sadness, regrets that you went out alone and ended up in such a situation. He can't help but imagine the fear you must have felt, the confusion, and the loneliness when the guards intervened, and you woke up alone in the hospital.  

- He may be a scholar, but first and foremost he's a man with a moral code, and secondly, he's from Zaun: if he has any work, appointments, or lectures, he'll skip them all, maybe muttering a few insults in his thick accent at the most insistent people, and make up for it at night.  

- Plans, ideas, codes, anything – but he won't leave you alone unless you ask him to.  

- He takes care of you meticulously, respecting schedules, bringing you meals in bed, changing your bandages until your skin heals, and you're able to stand on your own again.  

- He doesn't mind helping you – as a chronically ill person who refuses others' help, he's learned to do everything on his own, and he's almost happy that his skills can be useful to someone else.

Ekko:

- Is it something totally normal in the lanes? Yes.  

- Does this stop Ekko from panicking? No.  

- He's the one who finds you and brings you to the others, but he doesn't want, nor can he afford, to be seen panicking. So, he swallows his despair and tries to act as normal as possible while ten other people rush to help you.  

- His face remains expressionless as the most skilled remove debris, clean the wound, stitch your torn flesh, and bandage you, but his foot keeps tapping the floor with force and speed, revealing his anxiety.  

- When the others insist that it's best you stay in the makeshift infirmary, he tries not to protest, but suddenly every moment of the day becomes an excuse to pass by: to bring you stolen sweets from Piltover, to tell you about some expedition, maybe even steal a kiss or fall asleep leaning against your mattress.  

- It's an overwhelming fear, but the fear of losing you makes him unable to think rationally, and all he feels is how much he misses you, even while you're right there with him.

Vander:

- A crossfire from the other side of the river was already a big enough provocation to alert him and prepare to defend the city or, if absolutely necessary, to strike back.  

- But you, as an accidental victim, are a huge problem.  

- He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, and when he does, he can’t help but feel frustrated, angry at himself, knowing he hasn’t been able to keep his city under control like he promised—to you, to Piltover, to everyone.  

- He’ll ask for your forgiveness by kissing the scarred skin every day, even if you insist it’s not his fault, and if you remember even one of the faces, he’ll go and handle the problem.  

- Not with violence, unless necessary, but it’s not about personal justice; rather, it’s about protecting the other citizens of the alleys too.  

- Even after you’ve healed, he’ll insist it’s absolutely necessary to carry you everywhere you need to go, claiming a very good doctor told him so.  

- And the memory of the scar will be tiny compared to all the marks Vander has left on you.  

Silco:

- Private justice is absolutely the first option, even though you were an accidental victim.  

- He’ll call all his goons and associates for a meeting while you’re still bedridden, to see if they’ve heard, seen, or been involved in any armed conflict, and if he doesn’t get a face or a name from them, he’ll turn to the brothel, the house of all information,  

- Until he finds who hurt you and makes sure they can’t do it again.  

- Silco isn’t fazed by blood or open wounds, but despite having enough experience to handle it himself, at least on the first day, he’ll take you to Singed to make sure you’re in the best condition.  

- In the following days, he’ll take care of you himself, but he has pride, a façade, and little emotional communication skills, so he won’t openly show how worried he is, relying entirely on the fact that you don’t know about the murder of your assailant and remember nothing of the visit to Singed.  

- But the only reason you heal so well and so quickly is that, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, all the love he feels is poured into the care he gives you.  

Jinx:

- Flashbacks. So many. Too many.  

- At some point, she’ll even convince herself that she’s the one who shot you, leading to a complete breakdown.  

- She punches her head, scratches herself without realizing it, her nose bleeds, and her eyes are bloodshot.  

- It takes her a while to convince herself that she wasn’t the one who shot you, even though the hallucinations overlap images of you with memories of her armed, creating waking nightmares that feel increasingly real.  

- As much as she’d like to ask her father for help, even just to give you a cleaner room, she feels responsible and is too scared that if she stays away from you, you’ll forget her. That’s why she sets up a little space for you and takes care of you herself, though not always painlessly.  

- She’s pulled bullets out of her own body more times than not after missions; what might seem like dangerous, delicate work to someone else is almost routine for her by now.  

- Once she has a suspicion of who might have done it, she’ll make sure they learn their lesson. 

 

Vi:

- Anger.  

- Why were you out alone? Why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw the crowd getting too big? Why were you in that area?  

- But her anger is just panic pouring out like a flood, the fear of not being able to protect the one she loves twists her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up, like she’s dying inside.  

- None of those questions mean she blames you, but she doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or even what to do.  

- She’ll do everything to help you—bandaging you, cleaning your wounds, staying silent and giving her full attention to make up for not being there when you needed her, even though that’s not true.  

- And when the scar forms, she’ll kiss it every single day, every single night, like a little ritual between the two of you.  

Caitlyn:

- Safety first.  

- She’ll be the one to assess how bad the injury is, and if there are any foreign objects in your body, there’s a good chance she’ll try to handle it herself, even though at first it might seem a bit barbaric.  

- She’ll give you the guest room and call the family doctor to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t need anything else, and she’ll take care of what’s necessary, even teasing you a bit to hide her worry.  

- "A bullet in the leg from being caught in crossfire? Very vintage, I must say."  

- What you won’t know is that she’ll quietly increase security, not in an oppressive way, but just enough to make both you and the other citizens feel safer.  

- Her family won’t get involved directly, but they won’t stop her either. Sometimes Cassandra herself will make sure her daughter finds the tray to bring up to you, though she’ll never be too open about it.  

- The perfect rehabilitation? Long walks in the villa’s garden, so you can stop for some cookies or tea when you get tired.  

Mel:

- Flashbacks, but less personal than Jinx’s.  

- Her mother would call her weak if she knew how it kills her to see someone barely scratched by crossfire, and that realization soon turns into frustration, which then becomes anger.  

- She tries to stay calm, but her voice sounds like she’s scolding you, and then like she’s scolding the servants, or anyone else who crosses her path.  

- Two hours of lecture if you’re lucky—why you shouldn’t go out without a guard, why you shouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, why the enforcers are utterly useless and can’t find anyone responsible, even though the fight was so intense.  

- She’ll focus entirely on the bureaucratic side because little Mel was never taught how to deal with strong emotions, and she’s definitely feeling them now but can’t afford that vulnerability, even though she knows you’re safe.  

- She won’t take care of you herself, but she’ll always stay in the room. Not because she doesn’t want to, to be clear, but because she wants you to have the best care possible and prefers to leave it to a top professional rather than her inexperienced hands.  

- In return, she’ll triple the amount of affection and caresses—more to calm herself than you, but you won’t be the one to complain.  

Sevika:

- She needs a moment.  

- She knows she has to report to Silco that there was a firefight, that someone is threatening the people, but part of her just wants to grab those responsible and crush their heads with her bare hands, doing both you and her boss a favor. Yet, another part of her doesn’t want to leave you alone or take you with her.  

- She knows how to handle these things; she’s lost an arm, and Silco’s goons often come back in worse shape, which is why she’ll take care of you herself, in complete silence.  

- She’ll wait until you’re asleep to place a water bottle, a glass, some painkillers, and some bread on the nightstand next to your bed. And when she’s sure you’re fully asleep, she’ll leave a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on her cloak and heading out to the Last Drop.  

- There, she’ll release her anger in a brawl or two, talk to her boss, and search for the reason why she feels so awful at the bottom of her third glass of whiskey.