#wordsbyspatial

How you made it this far was beyond you. You were running on pure adrenaline, every morning waking up with maybe three hours of sleep under your belt and a hungry, aching stomach. You’d ditched most of your food in the evenings, unable to eat from the anxiety that flooded your veins and contracted your stomach into horrible cramps.

Every waking minute left you terrified, looking around at the remaining survivors and afraid anytime you thought about the night the lights went out. The night when you watched many like-minded participants murdered in cold blood by those who voted to continue the games.

By now, you were weary of everyone. You’d found yourself once in Thanos’ gang in the earlier rounds, but that had gone to shit. There were only three of you left—Minsu, Namgyu and you. 

You’d avoided each other since that night. 

You watched from a careful distance as Namgyu babied Thanos’ necklace, dipping into the pills inside. You watched as Minsu hid away from both of you, both terrified and guilt-ridden of his lack of action that night. You decided to stay away. 

Nothing good could come from interacting with either of them. 

That was, until game four happened.

As you stood in the room before the games, a blue ball in your hand—you looked over and saw both Namgyu and Minsu on the opposite side of the room. Your heart stopped as the rules were announced. Watching in horror as you were given a measly rounded key, and each member of the red team was given a knife. Bullshit.

Your eyes landed on Namgyu, watching as he admired the knife. Seeing the bright red blood pool from his finger as he tested the sharpness of the blade. He tongued the blood, licking it clean as he looked over his shoulder, and those sharp, fox-like eyes landed right on you.

Your blood ran cold, muscles tensing as a wicked smile grew on his lips. Namgyu waved the blade, giggling like a crazed psycho.

You knew you weren’t his favourite—not after you voted to end the games. If Semi hadn’t died by his hands that night, it would’ve been you. You were sure of it.

To think, at one point, you’d had feelings for him. Well, ‘feelings’ was an egregious descriptor. The night after the pentathlon, you found yourself in his bunk when you couldn’t sleep, your mouth on his and quietly stifling whimpers as his hands pushed past your sweats. His words had been so sickeningly sweet, easing you into a night of pleasure that you hadn’t experienced in so long. He kissed you so tenderly, fingers plunging deep inside of you and curling to hit that perfect spot until you saw stars.

With red cheeks, you looked away from him and ahead at the guards. 

Game start.

The blue team filtered through the doors first, given a headstart to find their way to the exit. You hadn’t expected a maze, with various hallways, dead ends, and so much repetition that you’d begun to get dizzy. Your anxiety had started spiralling, especially when the red team was let in..

Only five minutes in, you heard the sounds of distant screaming as the red team preyed on the blue team.

“Shit,” you whimpered under your breath as you stumbled upon a closed door. You could hear distant footsteps, heavy as if chasing. With fidgety fingers, you managed to unlock the door and slip into the room that was painted brightly like a child’s daycare room. Quietly, you closed the door behind you and listened to the footsteps walk past, and your attention drifted around the room as you took it in. 

Then, you saw the other door.

You perked up, rushing towards it only for your key to not budge into its slot—a square?

Everyone had different keys.

After a couple of more minutes, you peeked your head out of the door. You looked both ways, knowing you’d need to be sneaky. Slipping out of the door, you quietly tiptoed down the hall, flinching anytime you heard a distant yelp or shout.

You were quiet, so quiet. You had managed to find the body of another blue player, their necklace hanging loose around their neck and bloodied—a square. With shaky handywork, you removed it and strung it around your neck and turned to face the opposite direction. All you needed was to retrace your steps and head back to the room you’d found. Surely a room with more doors was a good sign.

Carefully, you padded and made it to the end of the hall and turned right.

That’s when your eyes landed on him. Blood coating his face and vest. A wild, distant look in his eyes.

“You,” Namgyu spoke, a sickeningly sweet smile spreading on his lips as he pointed the knife in your direction. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he continued, stepping forward and scraping the sharp end of the knife against the wall as you backed up.

Your back hit the wall behind you, the scraping of the knife sending chills up your spine and making your head hurt.

“You’re such a rat. You hide so well!” He laughed, a sound you almost didn’t recognize. With how dark his eyes were, you couldn’t see—but you were certain his pupils were fully blown out. It was how Thanos’ were in those first few games he played.

His footsteps were light as he walked towards you, and it wasn’t until that moment that you understood the genuine fear of being preyed upon. You couldn’t recognize the crazed man he’d become, and your heart sank deep into the pit of your stomach. For a few moments, you accepted death, feeling the cold wall behind you. You wondered if maybe this was a good thing, that you could finally escape this hellscape.

It was the sound of a blood-curdling scream that brought you back to reality, and you ran.

Pushing yourself from the wall, you used it as leverage to sprint down the hallway to your left, and you could hear the sounds of him yelling out your name from a distance. You knew you couldn’t outrun him, not when he was as high as he was. He had more stamina, and you were far more clumsy and tripping anytime you turned a sharp corner.

It wasn’t until you felt your lungs beginning to burn that you found an open door to your right. It took everything to hold your breath and remain hidden as you slipped inside and closed the door just enough to cover you from the hallway. You felt like you were going to pass out, needing to heave and breathe, but you kept your hand tight over your mouth and nose.

Footsteps neared, slowing. You hid further to the wall, hoping that if he opened the door, you’d be hidden perfectly behind it.

You could fight him off if he found you. You could kick him between his legs or his stomach and make a run for it. As your mind ran rampant with ideas of how to protect yourself, you weren’t ready for what you saw. A stranger. A player you hadn’t recognized, likely within Player 100’s gang.

You froze, eyes wide and watching as he stepped into the room and turned to look behind the door, noticing you.

In a second, you attempted to sprint past, but he grabbed your jacket and threw you back into the room. You crashed against the floor, gasping as the wind was knocked from your chest.

“I thought I was going to fucking die,” the man breathed, thankful to have run into you. “You sneaky thing. Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

You looked up at him as he stepped towards you, his hand tightening around his knife. You kicked your legs a few times, a futile attempt as he kicked them aside, and you winced at the rough hit. 

You saw him bend forward and swing, and you covered your face with your arms to protect whatever you could, but the pain from the blade never came. All you heard was the sound of struggling and huffing, then the door slamming shut. The door banged a few times, and it felt too good to be true. 

You were saved.

You dropped your arms and looked to see you’re saviour, sitting up slightly—then you paled. 

Namgyu had his back pressed to the door, feet firm on the ground, as the man who had tried to kill you attempted to push into the room. You shook your head, scrambling back until your head hit the wall and you felt momentarily dizzy.

“Please, don’t—” you murmured, all you could say.

Namgyu crinkled his nose, turning his head to the door, “She’s mine!” He hissed. And just like that, his prayers were answered as the forceful shoves of his teammate ceased, and instead, you both heard a woman’s scream and retreating footsteps.

His eyes returned to you, and you shook your head.

Your mouth had gone dry; you wanted this to end, but not from him, not like this. You wanted to go back home, back to your dingy little apartment. Your safety net where you could gamble all your money away and smoke all the weed you could until everything was numb. Your old life was better than this. You could suffer more if it meant getting away from his hellscape.

“You…” Namgyu chuckled, stepping away from the door. The hand that held the knife fell to his side, and the other pushed back over his face, then his hair, smearing the fresh blood over his skin. “You scared me.”

Puzzled, you stared at him in silence. He was erratic, and you didn’t want to upset him.

Slowly, he bent his knees into a kneeling position, elbows on his knees and hands hanging loose. His head cocked to the side, “Stop running and hiding. I’m tired of chasing you.”

“Go away,” you mumbled, fingers pressing harder into the floor beside you. “Please, just let me go. Namgyu, please—”

“That’s what I like about you,” he grinned, using the knife to point at you again, “You always say it right. You never treated me like I was worse than you.”

And why would you? Out of these games, you were sure you and Namgyu were alike. Running through different paths of addiction and debt. All of you were. There was no sense in pretending like anyone was better.

You perked up slightly.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Namgyu’s eyes flickered down to the blade in his hands, corners of his lips curling. He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. 

“You don’t want me to? I’ve killed three people already… four would just mean there’s more money for us who want to keep playing.” He said, eyeing you up. His voice was unwavering and a bit giddy. He was enjoying this.

Slowly, you shifted until you rose to your feet, unsteady in your movements and swaying. He followed, standing back up. You both stared at each other, and you weren’t sure if he was going to kill you or not. You wondered if maybe—just maybe—you could talk your way out of this. Feed into what he wanted to hear.

At the same time, you weren’t sure if you could. Not with that crazy look in his eyes.

The timing of this game was your saviour, though. The sound of another scream caused Namgyu to look over his shoulder, noticing the door slightly ajar as the sound reverberated in. It was your only chance; you had a brief moment in time where this could work.

You took it.

With quick steps, you shot forward and used all the strength you could muster to shove Namgyu to the side. He stumbled over his feet, but he hadn’t fallen like you hoped. Still, you went for the door. It was your only escape.

Fingers curled into your hair, and you cursed yourself for not having it pinned away like others had. You had grabbed the door knob, opening the door, but it was no use when Namgyu kicked it shut and slammed you against it.

You gasped, wincing in pain as your front hit the door. He stood behind you, pressed against you, and held the knife to the skin of your jaw.

“You’re easy to rile up,” he whispered, his breath against your ear. Warm and ticklish. The knife pressed against your skin hard, almost breaking it and drawing blood until he pulled back. “You’re too pretty to cut up,” he murmured, inhaling your scent as his teeth grazed the shell of your ear.

“Namgyu,” you whined, hands pressing between your chest and the door. Your nails scratched at the wood, itching to escape.

“If I wanted you dead I would’ve let that asshole kill you,” he whispered, and it sent a chill down your spine. “I wanted to make sure no one else got you first.”

You didn’t answer.

The sound of clattering caught your attention, and you looked down at the knife on the floor, bloodied. You looked back up, over your shoulder and saw Namgyu. You saw that sweet smile on his face. You were so close that you finally saw the blown pupils under the harsh lighting of the room.

You wondered if it was the drugs. That tomorrow he’d wake up, and in the next game, you’d be running from him again because he wasn’t in his right mind now. As much you wanted to get away from the insanity of the games and forget it all happened… somehow—in some fucked up way—you believed him.

“Why me?” You asked quietly, your voice nothing higher than a soft squeak.

“Because I can’t close my eyes without seeing your face all fucked out,” he huffed, two bloody hands grabbing at your hips. “I need to see it again. I want to hear you say my name while I fuck you. I need it bad.”

Your entire brain scrambled as he spoke to you, like he was begging. He whimpered into your ear, rutting against your ass pathetically and you were almost sure it was the drugs making him feel this way, but the heat growing between your thighs was unbearable.

“Fuck,” you whimpered under your breath, a soft sound escaping your throat as one of his hands pushed up under your shirt and the other into your sweats. Your toes curled into your shoes, and you gave in.

You were sure that this was going to bite you in the ass—that trusting anyone else this far into the games was a bad idea. Yet, his hands were so missed on our body.

You were just as fucked up as he was, even without the drugs.

The smell of freshly brewed black tea, the scent strong enough to flutter your eyes open as your body stretched across the bed. A mess of blankets, one body beside you, and the winter sun filtering through the half-shut curtains. The daylight on your skin warmed your body, a feeling that you had missed during the past few weeks of dreary weather that left most Piltover citizens huddled away indoors.

“Good morning,” a tired voice rumbled next to you, muscled arms wrapping around your body and tugging you close. You were nestled into Jayce’s chest, face pressed against his skin, and wanting nothing more than to fall right back into sleep and forget about the day and any responsibilities you may have.

“Mmh,” you grunted in response, inhaling a deep breath as you peered up through sleep-riddled eyes. Your eyes locked with Jayce’s, a beautiful colour mixed of golden hues that put the evening sun to shame, “I like this new look,” you hummed quietly, fingers tracing along the edge of the beard he had yet to shave. Even his hair had begun to curl over his ears.

“Yeah?” He grinned, revealing that stupid tooth gap between his two front teeth you loved so much, “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel a bit shaggy.”

The blanket slipped from your body as you sat up in the bed next to him, yawning as your arms outstretched above you and a familiar hand smoothed over your hip, “it looks good, Jayce,” you said through a soft smile, “it’s not like you have anyone to impress these days.”

“Ouch,” he smirked, shifting to sit up against the pillows, hand moving over your thigh as you sat next to him, “suppose you’re right.”

Life had been quiet since Jayce stepped down from the council, focusing full-time on hextech with Viktor, exploring the possibilities and understanding the hexcore. It was meticulous work, but it was work that needed to be done. They both vowed their lives to it.

“Where’s Viktor?” You looked toward the open bedroom door, the smell of tea still wafting through the air. He couldn’t have been gone from bed for too long, likely set up somewhere with scatterings of research papers. Or a good book if he was taking a break.

Jayce sat forward, removing his hand from you so he could push the blankets off and swing his legs off of the bed. His movements slow as his body slowly woke up, “Is it just me, or has he been distant lately?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shuffling off of the bed and sliding into your slippers, the floorboards cool from the deep drops in temperature outside, “I tried asking him about it yesterday, and he brushed me off.”

“Mhm,” Jayce mumbled passively, stepping beside you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you against his chest, rousing a giggle from you. 

“Stop,” you laughed loudly as he kissed at your neck and ear, the thick hair on his face tickling you.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lowly into your ear, you could feel his smile on your skin, “we better go say good morning.”

“Already ahead of you,” you rolled your eyes, peeling away from his arms and stepping out into the hallway that lead you right to him. There he sat in the office they’d set up for home, hunched over the desk with a cup of steaming tea and eyes glued to one of the hundreds of research notebooks they’d collected.

“Good morning, love,” you hummed, stepping into the mess of a room and smiling brightly as Viktor glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyes were tired, cheeks rather sunken in – ill. Over the course of the past few months he’d been struggling more, but stubborn when you and Jayce offered help.

“Morning,” he murmured, running a hand over his tired eyes, “thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“I bet you would’ve really liked that, wouldn’t you?” You asked, shaking your head as you stepped toward him and against the back of his chair, eyes scouring over the pages, “Getting work done?” Your hand absently rested on his shoulder, the other brushing through his hair that flipped out at the ends.

Viktor’s body relaxed in your hands, eyes closing, “Not really,” he sighed, and you could feel the defeat that had sunken in him. 

You only then had realized Jayce didn’t follow you in, the distant sound of the shower starting.

“Hey,” you murmured, inhaling a deep breath as you moved to sit up on the desk, your line of sight above Viktor as you looked down at him, “what’s wrong?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, a quick shake of his head following as he adjusted himself on his seat, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Viktor,” you tilted your head, hand stealing the book away from his hands. His eyes snapped open immediately, trying to reach for the notes, but you pulled it away and set it on the other side of yourself, “I’m not leaving you alone unless you talk with me. Properly this time.”

A heavy sigh came from his lips, looking up at you with the faintest of pouts on his lips, “are you going to ask me why I’ve been distant again? Or is it something else to bother me about this time?”

The words were sharp, but they hadn’t stung. You didn’t take it personally.

“You’re smart enough to know,” you frowned, clenching your jaw, “it’s not fair to Jayce and me.”

“What isn’t fair? That I’m feeling unwell?” Viktor has been angrier than you realized, but you didn’t flinch at his outburst. He grabbed his crutch, using it to pull himself out of his chair as the metal of his leg brace creaked, and you tried to help, but he swatted your hand away, “That I have to stay home everyday working on hextech, while Jayce gets to go to the lab? While you two get to spend all your time together while I stay here?”

“Oh,” your eyes widened, pulling your hands back and staring at him. You didn’t know what to say, and you noticed the embarrassed look in his eyes – shame.

“That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

“Viktor, is that what this is about?” Your heart ached as you slid off of the desk, stepping up to him and resting your hands along the sharp lines of his jaw.

He tried turning his head away, but you had the advantage now and kept him still, looking up at him with those big doe-eyes that worked too well on him and made his stomach twist in the best way possible. He did his best to avoid your gaze, feeling nothing short of pathetic.

“Can we leave it be?” He eventually croaked, “pretend I didn’t say anything, please?”

“I ran a shower for you, Viktor,” Jayce stepped into the room, towel in his hand as he looked between you two. There was a tension in the room that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, “uh, bad time?”

“Thanks,” Viktor mumbled, pulling away from you and limping against his crutch as he took the towel and marched his way out of the office, slowly.

“Do you need a han–”

“No.”

Silence filled the office as Viktor left, leaving the two of you stunned in silence. Jayce turned toward you, a puzzled expression on his face as he tried to put the pieces together.

“We haven’t been good partners,” you groaned, turning to press your face against him, mind reeling for ways to remedy Viktor’s heartache. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt, having far too much privilege in this situation.

“Is he mad I’ve been spending too much time away?” He asked, ripping you from your thoughts, “I could bring some of the lab stuff home, or… or I could take some time off! Right?”

“No,” you let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness, one of the many traits of Jayce Talis that made you fall so madly in love with him, “well, maybe.”

“I can go right now,” he moved to turn.

“Jayce,” you laughed, holding him back from turning your home into the newest hextech laboratory and spending countless hours trudging through the snow with heavy equipment, “Baby steps. He’s been quite tired, lately. Maybe we should get him to bed and see if we can help him someway,” you wore a sly smile on your lips, attempting to push Jayce’s thoughts in the same direction as yours. 

He huffed out a laugh, “Sounds like you’re the worked up one trying to get what you want.”

You playfully hit his arm, “Oh, shut up. Like you aren’t, it’s been weeks. If we’re feeling it, then he is too,” you put your hands on his back, pushing him toward the door, “let me take care of it.”

You found yourself in the bathroom with Viktor, him sitting on a chair you’d slid in so you could help him. Help that he was appreciative of after taking time to de-stress.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes closed as you ran the towel through his hair, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Anger wasn’t a feeling that Viktor was so familiar with, it often fleeted right by him. He had always been so ambitious, ready to take on the world with a cup half-full mentality. These past few years had taken its toll on him, leaving him uncertain. 

Worried. 

“It’s okay, love,” you cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead as he tilted his head back on the chair, looking up at you, “you should come rest with us. It’s cold out, we deserve a day in bed.”

You could see a spark flicker in his eyes, the first in days. That’s all you wanted, was to see that spark more often, to show Viktor that he wasn’t being left behind – that you and Jayce couldn’t even imagine a life without loving him like you do. That, itself, would be an injustice.

Once refreshed, you helped him to the bedroom with nothing more than a gentle hand on his back. Mindful about your actions, knowing now that as much as he hid it well, he had pride. A need to just feel normal, once in a while. Like he wasn’t just the sick man people saw him as – the sick man he knew he was.

Jayce was sitting up in bed, legs sprawled over the mess of blankets and a book in his hand. Eyes flickered up from the bed, a small smile on his lips as he sat up.

“There he is. The love of my life,” he beamed, snapping the book shut.

“Eh, that’s too much, Jayce,” Viktor sighed, cringing at the display of affection, and you snorted out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, sitting up as he watched Viktor move into the bed and lay against the pillows, admiring him, “I can’t appreciate you?”

“You heard him, it’s too much,” you teased, closing the blinds so you could all hide away from the snowy surroundings. Take the time to focus on only each other.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, long lashes fluttering as a pink shade tinted his cheeks. One of his calloused hands gently rubbed along his slender waist where his ribs were visible, tilting down and wasting no time in closing the distance between their lips.

You crawled onto the other side of the bed, sliding against Viktor with ease, lips on his shoulders and hands exploring his body. You hoped you hadn’t been too eager.

“You don’t have to do this,” Viktor’s voice muffled against Jayce’s lips, frail hands pressing to his hardened chest, “I get it.”

“I want to,” Jayce answered earnestly, pulling back from their kiss, “I love you. You know that, right?”

“... I do.”

There was nothing else in the world that you and Jayce wanted more than to make sure that Viktor was loved and cared for, that his heart could be full when his mind and body felt weak. To know that you both unequivocally and unconditionally loved him, more than one should bear.

Viktor’s body was sensitive as you and Jayce ravaged him – tired and weak, but craving everything you two offered him. Eating up the desire like a starved man.

You straddled his hips, rocking atop of him lazily while Jayce pressed heady kisses along his neck, licking at the marks he left behind. Everyone was tired, paces slowing down and bodies spent, but you didn’t have the need to stop. You all made up for lost time, and you and Jayce showed Viktor just how much love you had for him.

You hadn’t been worried about someone stumbling in on you, or the cameras in each room watching your every move. Namgyu’s touch made your brain a mess, leaving you uncaring about everything and anything. You were willing to do whatever it took to feel him against you again, for those fingers to dip inside and make soft sounds escape your lips.

Fingernails scraped hard at the wooden door as he pushed your hair aside and bit at your neck. He tongued your skin, lapping at the hickeys he carelessly left. Marking you as his, something he’d wanted to do since his eyes first landed on you many days ago.

He breathed heavily against your skin, his warm breath making you shudder as you felt your underwear grow wetter with each passing second. You wanted to touch him forever—that would be the best way to go.

“You taste so good,” he whimpered. He was a mess, too. He hadn’t been this high in ages, and he felt damned good. No more people looking down on him. No one was holding him back anymore.

There was just you—perfect you. He liked you. Maybe too much, and he was okay with that.

He wanted you to be his. He would do anything for you, he’d beg if he had to. On his hands and knees, grasping at your sweats and making promises so that he could taste you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped when he sucked a sharp point on your neck, and the hand that was under your shirt slipped out. He covered your mouth with it, preferring to spend the next ten minutes of the game ravaging your body instead of alerting anyone walking by. He was so desperate for you, he’d do anything to taste you, to be inside you.

He was drunk on you.

“Shh,” he hushed you through a pathetic sound that bubbled up his throat, licking at your earlobe and suckling. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nose as his other hand dove into your underwear, fingers finally brushing over your heat that had been untouched for far too long—a couple of days. It was a teasing touch, barely grazing where you needed it most.

You scratched deeper at the door until your nails hurt, bleeding. Your toes curled. Fuck.

Namgyu’s finger finally circled over your clit, already swollen and aching to be touched. You whined against the bloody hand over your mouth, hips pressing back until your ass could feel his erection pressing against you. You were so incredibly done for, and he’d been touching and kissing you for all of two minutes.

“Fuck me,” you muffled against his hand, a metallic taste on your lips. You ground back against him again, earning a sweet growl from his chest.

You were far too eager, your eyes fluttering with each circle of his finger. The hand over your mouth tightened, the finger over your clit quickening until he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed more.

“You want me to fuck you? Right here?” He breathed, rutting against you desperately. Fucking you through the barrier of clothes. Those sweet, sweet fingers pushed through your folds—teasing your cunt that was so wet he was sure he’d have no trouble fitting inside you. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby. You have no idea. You make me fucking insane So hot—so pretty.”

Namgyu’s whimpers made you shudder, such a pathetic whine rolling from his tongue as he rambled. His fingers began to fuck you as they slipped into your tight entrance that had only last been touched by him. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his ministrations, thighs tensing around his hand, impossibly hard that he winced at the pressure, but continued. Those two long fingers curled inside, pressing against the fleshy bump that made you gasp into his hand louder.

“Yeah?” He breathed into your ear, “Feel good?”

You mumbled, slurring about how badly you wanted him to fuck you. That you needed his cock deep inside of you—and he wasn’t one to keep you from your needs. As much as he wanted to see you on your knees and asking nicely, maybe with that shiny knife held to your throat—he wasn’t going to last that long. 

Or better yet, him on his knees. Fuck. He would beg for you any day.

“You gotta’ keep your mouth shut,” he warned quietly, a soft grunt. The hand over your mouth dropped, now focused on pulling your sweats and underwear down the globe of your ass. You whimpered in response, biting down on your bottom lip as you felt his twitching cock press into you.

Namgyu took his time for a moment, leaning back to see your backside. His hands ran over your ass, feeling you up as if memorizing your body by touch. His mouth watered at the sight of you, dripping down your thighs from some measly fingering and sweet whispers in your ear.

You were so easy. That’s what he liked about you—among other things.

Everything happened so fast when he realized he could hold back any longer, and you didn’t care. All you could focus on was making sure you didn’t collapse as he took the base of his cock in his hands and rolled his hips forward, stretchin you thin as your cunt ached at the sudden intrusion. 

Another whine from your throat, as quiet as you could make it. He bottomed out on you and stretched you until it stung, huffing curses and random ramblings under his breath as his hands grabbed your hips to steady himself. Leaving bloody marks all over your body and staining the clothes you wore.

You hadn’t been fucked so senseless in your life. The door shook with each movement as he pulled himself until his cock was nearly out, only to push in so deep that he hit the fleshy ring of your cervix. A tender and sore ache, a feeling you wanted more of so goddamn badly.

After a particularly deep thrust, you choked on a sound. Gasping and forcing your hips back to him, and meeting the forward snaps of his hips. You were chasing a high, wanting to hear him, too.

A hand moved up to your throat, catching the sounds that dared to escape. He gripped tight, cutting off your air for a few moments until he loosened enough for you to breathe comfortably. You wanted to tell him to choke harder, that you could handle it, but you were fucked out. All you could say was his name.

“Namgyu,” you mewled through a strangled moan, face turning to the left as you pressed flush to the door. Reacting to your words, his hand tightened around your throat.

You peered at him through half-lidded and glossy eyes, trying to get a glimpse of him as he fucked you with reckless abandon with an unceremonious rhythm. His cock stretching your abused pussy so much that it would surely buckle your knees if he kept up the pace.

“Say it again,” he growled, leaning forward to bury his face into your neck, pulling you back enough from your throat so your back arched. He huffed against your skin and licked at the marks bruising on your neck, your pulsing muscles around his cock making it tough to keep from releasing inside you so quickly. “C’mon. Say my name again, pretty girl. I like the way it sounds on your lips, it’s so sweet… please, you goddamned slut—“

The insult, as derogatory as it was, sent a fluttering of butterflies deep into your stomach. You were sick in the head. He knew you loved it. He knew exactly what kind of girl you were. What would make you snap. Everything you wanted to hear.

“Namgyu,” you whimpered, a bit louder than you meant, but that stirred something in him. You knew because he had begun fucking you so hard the door was squeaking on its hinges and you both hoped nobody would walk by. His fingers gripped your hips tightly, and you felt the tender skin already beginning to bruise.

Only a few more times of saying his name and several reckless thrusts deep into your pussy, and you both hit your peak. It was intense as he filled you, his cock twitching as his cum leaked down your thighs and you gasped out a moan that reverberated from within your chest. Your knees eventually buckled, and he was forced to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from falling to the ground.

“My god,” he breathed into your hair, heaving against the skin behind your ear. “So perfect. My perfect girl. Perfect pretty girl. Don’t leave me… just stay… pretty girl…”

You could listen to those praises all night in the dorms when you both made it out—but unfortunately, Namgyu was hit with a realization that had left him completely and utterly devastated, completely insane. You couldn’t keep him calm that night, not when he was refusing to eat, focused only on the fact that he’d lost Thanos’ necklace. The drugs he’d become so reliant on.

Even more surprising? He voted no when the voting came. He needed to go home. He needed to get out of this hellhole and get a quick fix.

The entire night, you stayed by his side. As much as he tried to push you away, you were steadfast in your actions. You had been in his shoes plenty of times before—no drugs, forced into a withdrawal. It was hell. Your body ran hot, your head ached like it would explode, and all you wanted was to find the next pill to make it all go away.

You held him in your arms all night. Feeling the way he would twitch in his sleep. You’d fall asleep for a bit, only to be woken up by him fidgeting and restless, awake and agitated or kissing at your neck and grabbing at you to distract himself. When he needed it, you would feed him water, uncaring how thirsty you were yourself.

He was grateful for this—he’d remember this. You were special. 

For the first time, he wondered what life would be like with someone like you.

“Hey,” you whispered to him, a hand brushing away the hair that stuck to his sweaty skin. “You’re shaking. Have some more water.” You knew the games would be starting soon. Every morning, you woke up precisely five minutes before the lights came on. An anxious reaction.

Namgyu stirred, half-asleep. He shifted onto his back, closer to you and smacked his dry lips. You eased him up and gave him the rest of your water.

“I need to go home,” he whispered, voice hushed like a murmur. “Fuck this place. Fuck the guards for not letting me go back and get the—“

“One more game,” you told him, watching as he slowly fluttered his eyes open to look at you. They weren’t blown out anymore. Instead, they looked baggy and tired, with dark circles creating a heavy shadow under his eyes. “One more game and we’ll probably have enough people who are good to go home, yeah?” 

Namgyu huffed. He forced out a laugh; your optimism both agitated him and made his heart leap.

“One more game,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again and getting in a few more minutes of sleep before the music and bright lights woke everyone up, including the newborn that began to cry loudly.

Namgyu was quiet most of the morning. You stayed near him, but he was focused on trying to get the last bit of water out from the bottle before it was time to move on to the next game. You didn’t like it—it was wrong, but you had almost hoped he had the drugs again. Just enough to get him through this next game and stay focused until you were out.

To be in withdrawal was one thing; to be in it while in a game of life or death? Surely, at your lowest point, you would believe that death would be easier.

You just hoped he didn’t act too recklessly.

As you were guided to the games room, you lingered closely behind him. Peering over his shoulder as you made it up the stairs, through a winding corridor and finally to the games room. The big doors opened, the sound of a whining baby somewhere behind you making your stomach twist.

What a fucked up situation. You just hoped to god that everyone voted no after this.

After—

Jump rope?

There it was, the giant doll right before the players. Your eyes widened, suddenly feeling so small and so high up. You could see a bridge and a rope. Another doll, a boy that eerily matched the girl.

Both dolls held a rope, and without thinking, you slipped next to Namgyu and grabbed at him. Your hands tugging the sleeves of his sweater nervously instead of your own. He glanced at you, eyes widening for a moment—your fear was palpable. Shifting, he grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining. 

A sentiment you were certain would keep you going through the rest of these games. For a moment, you wondered what being away from these games with him would be like, but you were cut short by the announcer, who explained the jump rope game.

You didn’t have very long to make it to the other side, and no one moved. No one wanted to be the first to go, to be the guinea pig of this game.

Not until Player 456 went—a baby tied to his chest.

Your stomach twisted as you watched, horror sinking your gut. You couldn’t do this. The rope was spinning too fast, and there was a goddamned break in the bridge. You began to panic, and Namgyu could sense it, but he didn’t try to ease it.

He panicked himself, but for an entirely different reason. He was hot, nauseated and praying to god that this would be the last one. He sucked in breath, startled only when the first person was knocked off of the bridge after people grew confident at Player 456’s success.

Both of you watched, and it was like everything slowed for a brief moment—the metal rope hit their ankles, and they went flying. The thud and crunch of their body echoed through the tall chamber.

“Fuck this shit,” you mumbled under your breath, taking a few steps back and running your hands over your face. You crouched to the ground, shaking your head. It all came crashing down. “No, no, no. I’m not doing this. I can’t—“

Namgyu was in front of you in an instant, eyes wide and bewildered, impatient. 

“Shut up,” he snapped, hands on your shoulder as he shook you. He waited until you looked into his eyes, no longer babbling nonsense. “You go first, and I’ll be right behind you. We’ll make it through and we’ll get the fuck out of here. It’s just you and me. We have each other, okay? Okay?”

You didn’t respond, eyes wide in fear.

He shook you harder, and you whimpered. 

“Okay—“ you squeaked, another sound of a body thudding against the ground making you flinch.

“Teammates,” Namgyu murmured, a word that eased your mind.

People slowly began to filter, but only a handful. There were three across and one on the bridge, making their way over. You followed Namgyu, trusting him. Even if he wasn’t in his right mind, and was making rash decisions. You wanted to wait and study the game more, but he was right.

There was no sense in waiting around. Not when the rope had begun to move faster.

“Go,” he whispered, his body close behind you. His voice was calmer than you’d ever heard, and you were certain he was focused on getting home, and you were thankful for that. You watched ahead as the man on the bridge stood just before the gap, jumping and jumping until he finally hopped across and jumped once more—almost falling but steadying himself. It was nauseating, and you were sure you’d lose your balance.

“Don’t look down. You got this. You and me. We make it to the end and we’re home.”

Home with Namgyu. Sure, you could get used to that idea.

Even he was just chasing you with a knife less than twenty-four hours ago.

Those were the last words from him that you heard before you stepped onto the bridge—no turning back. Not without difficulty, at least.

It took a few moments, but you managed to get onto the bridge. Jumping every five seconds. It was terrifying. Your heart was hammering, sweat beading on your forehead. Players behind you were chattering and groaning when you nearly missed the first jump.

Your hands were clammy as you toppled briefly, regaining your footing and having to jump almost instantly as the rope went a full circle around. Almost clearly, you heard Namgyu inhaling a sharp breath and sighing in relief when you were steady. What you couldn’t see was the way his hands were buried in his hair, and the scratching down his face as you shuffled forward slowly.

Namgyu was praying to whatever god would listen. He needed you to make it across. 

You were terrified. Tears dared to well in your eyes after each jump—it was only Namgyu’s voice behind you that urged you forward.

“Jump!” He’d say in a shaky tone. “Forward!” Coaching you through each step.

You could tell he was right behind you as you inched your way forward. Jumping, moving. A quick rhythm and no time for fuck ups.

He needed you both on the other side. Now.

By the time you reached the gap, you were already over it before you could even realize how much you relied on your body’s instinct. You almost wanted to turn around and celebrate, but you heard Namgyu jump behind you, and you kept moving ahead.

“Almost there, “ you said, hoping he could hear, looking forward and seeing only a small handful of players watching you. You grinned, adrenaline fueling you. Namgyu felt the same, with the finish line only inches ahead now. It was home free!

You were both so close! Why were either of you so damn worried?

“Two more jumps,” you heard Namgyu’s voice again, and you jumped and then moved forward.

As you reached the end, you looked over your shoulder at him. You were smiling, bright and wide, and he smiled back, a small tug at the corners of his lips. You’d made it, you’d finally—

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt your feet stumble back, heavy hands against your chest. Snapping forward, you looked ahead at the finishing platform. Your heart sank when you realized what was happening, and everything seemed to slow down.

You could hear Namgyu’s voice yelling.

“Don’t touch her!” He roared so loudly that the other players flinched. 

You felt your body swaying back, and you lost your footing as you looked into the eyes of the man who decided your life was better sacrificed for more money in his pocket. 

You were falling. Hands reaching out wildly as your eyes then locked with Namgyu, who was yelling out to you. It lasted all of a few seconds before everything went black. 

Dying wasn’t like they said it would be. You didn’t see anything flashing before your eyes.

All you saw was Namgyu, looking down at you with an expression of horror. It was over quickly, at the very least.

Behind him, Namgyu could hear a woman telling the others to move back—that this player planned to begin knocking off anyone who was at the end. He twitched, his eyes wide and breath coming in quick huffs as he watched the man staring him down with a smug smile.

“What are you going to do—“

The man couldn’t finish his sentence before Namgyu made one final jump forward and slammed the player onto the platform. All he saw was red as he landed punch after punch against the man’s face. Pummeling him until his face was swollen, black and blue.

“You bastard!” he roared between punches. His knuckles had begun to break open and bleed from the pain radiating into his hands, but he was feeding off of it. Enjoying the way the man’s face became unrecognizable with each hit. It was a rage unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

It was Player 456 who called out to him, asking him to stop. Why should he? Everyone here was a killer. Whether they liked it or not, they were all accomplices to the deaths of everyone who died in the games.

Namgyu had nothing to live for here; he didn’t care about the morality of his actions. He was here for money and greed, to hope that maybe he’d get out of the games with enough cash to make his problems go away. He realized now that none of that would matter without you. There was no more you, and that was terrifying. You had been by his side all night. Tending to him, as much as he wished you’d just leave him alone to wither away by himself, but you stayed.

You clung to him in fear. You trusted him. Namgyu would never forget the look in your eyes in the last game when the timer came up and you were alive, in his arms as you played with the keys around his neck, unbothered to try to find your way out because he was there for you. To keep you safe and make sure you both see another day.

“Player 124, stand down.” A guard spoke, and Namgyu hissed.

What kind of sick joke was this? He could push players off the platform, but a fist to the face was too much? These games were bullshit. They were always bullshit.

“Don’t touch me,” Namgyu hissed as he stumbled to his feet, taking a few steps away from the guard who pointed his gun in his direction. He backed up until he felt a metal object against his shoulder blade, the second guard. “This is bullshit! He killed her, he pushed her, and I can’t even kill the guys with my own two hands—”

“Player 079 eliminated.” 

Your number.

Namgyu balled his bloodied hands into fists and wanted to do nothing more than rip his hair out and scream. He wanted to go home and smoke the rest of his stash so he’d black out for days and forget everything that happened here. But he couldn’t.

He could never forget you.

His eyes were wide as he stared at the guards, and no one moved a single muscle as the rope began to spin and spin. He bared his teeth like a wild animal, just staring.

“Junkie… bastard…” The man from the floor gurgled, his words muffled as blood bubbled in his throat and splattered over his mangled face. A sound that would’ve chilled you to the bone, but instead angered Namgyu to the point of no return.

It all happened at once.

Namgyu stomped the man’s face, and the guards reacted by shooting several rounds into him. The gunfire echoed loudly, and the baby lying in the flowers began to wail. He collapsed onto the floor, eyes up at the ceiling as he grabbed at his chest where the bullets penetrated, and gasped wetly as the air left his lungs. He was satisfied at the sounds of your murderer dying—even as pain radiated through his body and left him on fire. 

This was more exciting than withdrawal, at least.

With his final bits of energy, Namgyu choked on the blood in his throat and flipped to his stomach. He crawled to the edge of the bridge, the guards ready to shoot once more, but he let himself fall.

His body landed with a loud thud, and it lay limp next to yours—his arm over your chest and leg against yours. Dead, lifeless eyes focused on you. 

Everyone’s attention returned to the games as the timer ticked by, so easily forgetting about you and Namgyu. 

Your bodies both lay there, rigid and still. Blood pooled around you both until there was nothing else left to drain from your body.

You and Robert were a walking HR Violation. 

If someone were to find out about your 'thing', you’d argue that you weren’t a hero on his dispatch team, at least not anymore. You just happened to work in the same office, take lunch breaks at the same time, attend required meetings together, dogsit Beef every so often, and fuck in the broom closet when you had five minutes to spare. But at least you weren’t a supervisor and supervisee. Anymore. 

Now that would be well below your morals. That had to count for something. 

Even if both of you agreed never to let anyone at the office find out about your weekend rendezvous… or the goddamn broom closet.

You were a responsible young woman now, so it was a surprise that you’d even consider being in whatever the mess of a relationship you had with Robert. An ex-villain—the first of the Phoenix Program to ever make it out of the Z-team and into a ‘normal’ team.

You clocked in to work ten minutes early every day, worked late when Blazer needed a hand, and worked your goddamn ass off harder than someone like Phenomoman could even imagine. You might not have been a hero who had her face on billboards and cereal boxes—the kind of hero that children wished to meet one day, or wanted to be when they were older. But you were trying your hardest to be a goddamn hero, and you were proud of it. 

Gone were the days of villainy—your mind once clouded by hate and the desire to ruin everything you touched. This was your penance. It had been over six months since you changed your path, and you still carried enough guilt to swallow you whole. It was the sole reason you pushed yourself as far as you did because the mere idea of falling back into your old, destructive patterns knotted a dark pit in your stomach.

Somedays, it felt as though the weight of the world rested on your shoulders when you put on your hero suit; it bore down on you until your entire body and mind ached with burnout.

No one saw the cracks shooting through your hard-working exterior. No one except Robert Robertson III. Christ—what a fucking mouthful.

Robert was the only one who saw the struggle you hid so well. He knew you had been pushed out of the Phoenix Program a few months too soon, but Blazer had high hopes for you. You reminded her of herself when she was younger, and so she pushed you harder than anyone else in the Z-Team.

The ex-superhero met you on his first day of dispatching, two weeks before you were set to graduate from the program. You were the only one who’d found success, and as such, Blazer didn’t want the rest of the team holding you back and decided that Robert would be best to lead them apart from you. You’d never forget that first meeting in Blazer’s office.

You sat in one of the chairs, palms sweaty and certain that she was going to cut you from the team. That was when Robert came in—big brown eyes, freckles akin to constellations and an apathetic, yet curious, look in his eyes as they lingered on you, which made your heart roar. You worked with him closely the following two weeks, as both Chase and Blazer figured you would be the best one to give him the lay of the land until you departed from his team two weeks later, when you were promoted to Chase’s team.

There were plenty of moments during those two weeks when you knew that Robert was going to be trouble. The easy banter, lingering stares as you both quietly ate lunch in the break room, as Prism and Malevola shared gossip as loudly as they could.

It took all of four weeks for the two of you to become familiar with each other in tight spaces.

The familiar feeling of calloused fingers in your hair remedied the ache in your heart that you hadn’t realized was there. Lips on your neck, easing the heaviness in your lungs. Five minutes nearly every day, your bodies tangled in the broom closet. Muffled whimpers behind Robert’s hand, toes curled inside your boots and being forced to breathe goddamn-near manually for ten minutes into your next shift while your mind ran rampant with everything Robert—needing more.

You got more, and you figured that karma ought to be on your side now.

•

“You’re exhausted,” Robert said, his back turned to you as he stood in his kitchen, opposite the island you sat at. Your mouth opened to speak, but he wasn’t finished, “And don’t try to come up with some menial, shitty excuse as to why you’ve been working late all week. If you told Blazer you were tired, she’d understand. You know that, right?”

A hot cup of coffee was placed before you, and brown eyes settled on your half-asleep face. It was eight at night on a Friday, and you had just finished filling in late for another team. You needed sleep more than you needed coffee, but you begged Robert for a cup.

It had become a bad habit these days, winding up at his apartment instead of your own. At least with your presence around every weekend, it was enough to get him to buy a futon sofa, which might have been the most uncomfortable thing you ever slept on. At least you mostly fucked on it.

“She needs my help. Torrance needs my help. It’s worth being tired sometimes.” You argued back petulantly, a pout hidden behind your coffee cup. 

Robert’s stare made you sulk, two scarred hands on the countertop. Fingers tapping over the surface as a chill ran up your spine. “You sound like a goddamn cliche. A really frustrating one, might I add,” he returned, his voice low and gravelly from a week’s worth of dispatching the Z-Team. Fridays were always hard on him.

You frowned, licking residual coffee from your lips. “But it’s the truth. If not me, then who else?”

“Literally anyone else at SDN,” his voice swelled with frustration, a tone that was mostly reserved for bad dispatching days. “You’re working yourself to the fucking bone, and you act like you’re the only hero there to pick up the pieces that fall between Blazer’s hands. There is, quite literally, over fifty other heroes.”

It was always annoying how right Robert always was, as if he wasn’t 5 years your senior and had a handful of experience as a hero above you. It was already enough having Chase throw you tidbits of wisdom every working hour, so when Robert gave you unwarranted advice—you bristled.

“That’s not fair!” You huffed at him. Your hands tightened around the mug, and your eyes crackled with lightning—a symptom of your power. “You know why I stay late, it’s more than just—”

“Who are you even trying to prove yourself to?!” Robert’s voice matched your volume, and you only then realized you’d been shouting at him. His voice softened, “You’re a hero. Don’t… let whatever guilt or regrets eating away at your mind make the decisions for you. You’ll get yourself killed.”

The coffee was forgotten on the counter, driplets running down the side from where it had spilled when you took a sip. It was growing cold, but the air between you and Robert was running hot, and you hated it when you were both stressed because you hated being honest with anyone, let alone yourself. You preferred to bottle up your emotions and save them for your SDN-issued therapist, who had you learning a multitude of coping mechanisms for your stress that you might not have been working on well enough.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cut through the tension. Bare feet padded over the flooring as he walked around the island and to where you sat, hunched over and tears welling in your eyes. “Hey, look at me.” 

Calloused fingers cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up into those doe-brown eyes that warmed your heart and reminded you of why you tried so hard. You wanted to be a hero like him—like Mecha Man. You didn’t want the glory and fame; you just wanted to make a difference as he had. The most challenging part was that you had it, but you couldn’t see your own success as easily as others did.

He blinked a few times, taking in the few moments to admire your watery eyes and pouting lips, “I’m just worried about you, and you never talk to me about how you really feel, then we just start bickering… or fucking.”

You snorted, lips pulling into a pathetic, lopsided smile.

“How about we take it easy for the night, yeah? I might not have a TV, but I have a phone, and I’m sure we can find some shitty movie to hate on tonight.” His voice was a rhythmic hum, and you couldn’t do anything but agree to his terms for the rest of the evening.

Legs were tangled on the futon with a fluffy blanket strung across your bodies. A terrible B-list film played on his phone, but instead of being propped up by his hand, it was face down and nearly falling off the edge of the makeshift futon-bed. It had been long forgotten about for ten minutes now, as were your pants and underwear.

“Fuck,” you breathed out against his neck, his stubble tickling your face. Two of his fingers prodded deep inside you, curling just right so your toes curled and you whined.

Robert shifted your bodies until your back was on the futon, his lips finding your neck and leaving a littering of kisses and bites that marked your skin with bruises that would be gone come Monday. You hardly cared; your hero suit mostly covered anything that he left on your skin—a bad habit of his that you didn’t feel like correcting.

The two digits inside of you worked harder, earning delicious sounds that fell from your lips and had Robert’s trousers tightening with each passing second.

The blanket fell from your bodies as you hooked an arm around his neck and rocked your hips in rhythm with his fingers—meeting each forward press of his hand. The heavy, throaty sounds from him vibrated against your jaw.

“Tell me…fuck. Tell me that you’ll be good next week,” Robert demanded breathily, his words hot in your ear as he suckled on your lobe, then moved to run his teeth against the shell of your ear. Your lips quivered in response, and you didn’t answer quickly enough because he removed his fingers from your aching cunt until you listened.

His thumb barely brushed against your clit, leaving you clenching desperately around nothing.

“Robert,“ You whined, kicking a foot at the blanket, but giving in so easily, “I-I promise. I’ll be good. No more staying late… Please.”

“Good,” he cooed into your ear, and you fucking melted as he devoured you. Teeth sank into the skin between your neck and shoulder, two fingers plunged deep into your pussy once again and fucked you at a quick pace that milked whimpers from your lips as you grabbed at his shoulders—fingernails digging at his scarred skin.

You fucked yourself against his fingers again, meeting the pace again, but this time needing release so fucking desperately. You felt his cock against your bare thigh, still hidden beneath his work pants, but you couldn’t give him attention even if you wanted to because you were so fucking close and focused on the pleasure building inside you.

Those expertly working fingers were bringing you close to the edge. His thumb has joined in and rubbed at your swollen clit in tight little circles that made you dizzy.

“You’re so good,” he whispered into your ear, heavy breaths of air tickling at your skin as his other hand, buried into your hair, tugged at the strands. The praises earned mewls of pleasure and satisfaction from you, who was practically purring for him. “You listen… so well. God, you’re beautiful. Fuck—“ He’d lost his thoughts when he started rubbing himself against your thigh.

His strained cock behind his work pants found perfect rhythm and friction against your thigh.

You were shivering under his touch, nails scratching down his back. Toes curled, heat building in the pit of your stomach, sending electrical shocks to the tips of your toes and fingers.

Robert sucked at your skin just below your ear, pitiful whines reverberating deep from his chest as he focused so hard on making sure you were met with the release you deserved. “Come on, baby. Come for me, okay? C’mon…” He mumbled against your skin messily, teeth grazing your skin. Grinding his cock against you, fingers pushing deep inside your hungry cunt—you were close. So fucking close, and Robert could tell by the way you’d gone almost silent. 

Your eyes were fluttering and rolling back, nails no longer digging into his skin, but instead your arms tightened around his neck. Your thighs twitched, and your cunt tightened around his fingers. 

Both of you felt the orgasmic wave crash through you, grasping at each other to keep yourselves steady as your names rolled off of each other’s tongues—not stopping until you were a tangled, heaping mess over the shitty futon. 

Robert was on his back, your head on his shoulder, hair clinging to your sweaty forehead that he brushed away. The sound of the movie playing on his phone was muffled, knocked to the ground somewhere. Neither of you cared to look for it, the sounds of choppy dialogue and music lulling into the distant city noise that came from his open patio door.

Blinking tiredly as you looked up at Robert, a smirk graced your lips, “Did you come in your fucking pants?”

“Fuck off,” he retorted, embarrassed, cheeks burning a wild red that highlighted his freckles. He tried shoving you away from him playfully, but you were quick to straddle his lap—a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

Robert looked up at you, lying beneath you. Your eyes gazed over his features like you were looking at him for the first time. Freckles below his eyes, scattered over his cheeks like a puzzle. Scars over his chest and arms that you wished to memorize under your touch. His right ear had missed part of its outer shell like a cat that survived a harsh winter. You adored every ‘imperfection’.

And those eyes—big and brown. They stared up at you the same, as if memorizing you.

When you were with Robert, your walls shattered down. Everything that weighed you down was still there, but he helped you lift it. He was the only person in the world who forced your vulnerability to show, and you didn’t mind.

A laugh rumbled from your chest, the sound of laughter echoing through his studio apartment.

“What?” He asked you, smirking with widened eyes, watching you in awe. “A guy can’t finish in his pants anymore?”

“Anymore? Jesus… No, it’s not that,” you managed to sputter when the laughter settled. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just… happy.”

His smile widened to a toothy grin, and you felt your heartbeat stutter. “Okay, ‘Just Happy’. Why don’t we take a shower?” He asked, hands grazing over your bare thighs. Fingers brushing softly at the skin that prickled with goosebumps.

“We? I’m not the one who came—”

A hand covered your mouth, and you laughed behind it as Robert pushed you back against the futon once again. He was chuckling lowly, shaking his head at you before he leaned forward and began to press kisses to your neck, then down to your stomach, where your shirt had lifted to reveal your stomach.

Everything about Viktor drove you fucking crazy.

Those narrow eyes that pierced through you, sending cold shivers through your spine when they flickered up and down your figure. Slender, nimble hands that worked tirelessly to please you, fingers flitting between your legs, pushing inside you and curling against the bundle of nerves that had you crying out. His lips that praised you with words and left heady kisses along your skin and cunt, your thighs clenching on either side of his head as you rode the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

But–you drove him crazier.

A cocky smirk would creep to your lips when you sat idly next to Viktor, both silent as his free hand that wasn’t hastily writing notes over parchment danced along your thigh. Slow, meticulous movements that dipped between your legs, fingers running along the edge of your panties. He was good at silent asks, not much for words or begging, and you were always quick to indulge a man so deserving.

Bold enough to force him back on the bed, riding him until the early morning hours as the warm sun sprawled along your naked bodies and your hips ached and thighs cramped. Until he was a whimpering mess underneath you, strangled groans caught in his throat as he filled you.

You were much better with patience. You preferred waiting for his actions that indicated his desires, absent-minded touches that wouldn’t cease until you were on your knees blowing him. 

Viktor had been preoccupied all week, focusing his energy on the research with Jayce and leaving you to your own devices. The days blended into the next, and tonight, you were a pitiful mess. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. As you sank into the couch, book clutched tightly in your hands, you squeezed your thighs together, and you ached longingly—desperate.

You fixated on the words, but they danced along each page, twisting into an indecipherable mess and leaving your mind as quickly as they came. Pages and pages were left unread as frustration bubbled up in the back of your throat and a loud groan came through. 

Fuck this.

In a swift motion, the book was discarded to the floor and your hand slid between your legs, eyes falling shut as they slipped into the fabric of your underwear with familiarity. Tentative touches, gentle fingers circling your clit that was throbbing. Your other hand slipped into your shirt, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipple, wishing so badly that it was Viktor’s hands making you feel so good.

It was easy to fall into the rhythmic motions, an idyllic smile lifting the corners of your lips as your desires were met. Not in the way you would have preferred, but taken care of nonetheless.

Two fingers slipped inside easily, your cunt eagerly enveloping the digits. Not quite long enough to make the lasting impact Viktor could.

The click of a lock snapped your body upright.

Widened eyes shot to the door that creaked open, and your heart soared. A rare occurrence that Viktor would make it home before you had fallen asleep. Adjusting yourself, you pulled your hands from your body and stood up, the slick between your legs coating your panties and seeping through to the satin fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Hi, baby,” you chirped, voice laced with lust as hands haphazardly fixed your hair that knotted from your position on the couch. You were uncertain why physical presentation mattered when your lover’s face was covered in signs of exhaustion. Dark under eyes, tousled hair, and buttoned shirt untucked.

He looked far too good to remain casual. Fuck, you were feral.

Viktor locked the door behind him, a smile gracing his lips as soft eyes settled upon you and his weight shifted back to his cane, “Still up? I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock, it was well past midnight.

“No,” you shook your head, wondering if your hot cheeks and heavy breaths hinted at your previous state. Surely, he noticed. “Just… couldn’t sleep,” you lied.

Oh, he noticed.

Interest flickered in his eyes, and a curiosity settled in his chest, but gods, he was tired. He couldn’t even think straight, surprised that he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk in the lab like he had two nights before.

Viktor stepped forward, cane clicking along the wood, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I’m sorry, love,” his gentle words heavy on your heart, “I’m exhausted.”

Two impatient hands flew to his vest, fingers toying with the buttons eagerly.

“Viktor,” you whimpered, pulling your head back so you could look into his eyes, pleading.

It was an unusual act to see you standing before him with your knees quaking as you begged. His cock stirred in his slacks, hardening at the mere sight of you acting so pitifully, ready to do whatever you needed to earn his attention. 

“I need you,” you mewled, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his vest. Shaky fingers expertly removed each one with practiced ease.

“I–shit,” he hissed, cheeks burning a deep red as you began to sink onto your knees once his vest popped open.

“–Please, I’ll be quick.”

Viktor didn’t make any moves to stop you, his free hand lifting to cover the bottom half of his face as you dug past his belt. A moan muffled behind his fingers when his cock sprung free from the layers of clothing that had felt far too restrictive, and he fell back against the closed door. Your eager hands stroked him, milking out the pre-cum that you lapped up greedily on your flattened tongue.

He whimpered, cane discarded to the floor as he worked hard to keep his knees from buckling beneath him. Your only response was to keep going, lips wrapping around his cock as you took him in as far as you could. A repetitive movement as you bobbed your head and swirled your tongue around him, and fuck, you loved his moans.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering as they rolled back, a hand reaching down to grab at your hair to coax you along him. Pushing himself down your throat, knowing very well you could take it.

You choked on him, the gags and whines from your throat sending heat right into his gut. The coil in his abdomen tightened as you swallowed around him, trying to milk out his cum that you were desperate to taste on your tongue. 

You were deserving of it, weren’t you?

Two hands pressed to his bare thighs, scratching at his pale skin as tears stung your eyes when he hit the back of your throat. You were greeted by a pleasantly hard tug in your hair, yanking your mouth from his cock just as he felt himself hit his release.

Groaning deep in his chest as he grabbed the base of his cock with his other hand, stroking as the splattering of hot cum decorated your face. He had been pent-up for so long that it didn’t seem to end, strings of it clinging to your tongue that you had cheekily stuck out, over your closed eyes and down your chin and jaw.

A pretty little painting.

Viktor was rendered breathless, his hand slowing as his cock twitched, and the remaining cum he pushed out dripped down to the floor between your knees.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hardly able to make the words come to fruition through his heavy breaths.

Your eyes opened, smiling blissfully up at your lover.

“Please,” you whined, your body hot as you lay on the couch in your apartment, legs spread wide so invitingly. His face was buried between, tongue sliding along your cunt and tasting you slowly.

This had been a common occurrence lately, neither of you were able to take your hands off of each other the second you were alone in the same room. Call it the honeymoon phase.

Your head lifted from the couch, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you watched your lover eat you out with experienced movements. His were closed, arms wrapped around your thighs as he listened to your sweet sounds that urged him to keep going.

He’d made you cum twice already, working you slowly to each release and watching you unravel with cries of pleasure and body writhing along the couch. Your fingernails had ripped into the fabric beneath you, adding to the tears that had accumulated over the past few months.

“Now,” he breathed against your cunt, the air from his lips warm as he moved to press chaste kisses to your inner thighs, “what did I say about being patient?”

A shaky breath escaped your lips, head falling back again in defeat. 

When you first met Viktor, you hadn’t pegged him for the… well… dominant type. He was far too kind, always wearing that small smile on his lips as he ventured through the academy at Heimerdinger’s side. He shook your hand gently, your eyes taking his entire appearance in. Big, sparkling eyes, thinned cheeks, and two moles on his face that seemed to sweeten his features.

It wasn’t until the night you finally fucked after weeks of tension that built between you and him. You half-imagined to spend most of your night riding him, his hand sliding up your body as you took control and put on a show for him that he’d never seen.

Yet, you were greeted with deep rumbles in his throat as he fucked you from behind, standing at the edge of the bed with you on your hands and knees before him. A harsh hand in your hair, tugging it back when you misbehaved, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

You were so fucking addicted to him, and the feeling was mutual.

“I am being patient,” you whined, back arching as two fingers slipped easily into your pussy, stretching your tight hole. A gasp settled into the back of your throat, hands settling on your tits so you could distract yourself from the way your cunt clenched around his fingers pathetically tight, needing release.

“Good girl,” Viktor purred, licking at a hickey he’d left on your inner thigh, lips trailing back to your heat so he could lick tantalizing slow circles around your swollen clit.

Your face twisted into one of pleasure as the coil in the pit of your stomach began to twist uncomfortably, signifying your third release of the evening. Here you were, a goddamn mess when Viktor had hardly touched himself yet, aside from a few needy strokes along his cock that he gave himself.

His name fell from your tongue again, eyes snapping shut tight as the fingers inside you pumped in and out, fingers curling just right. Those golden eyes watched you with desire, the way your fingers pinched at your nipples and back arched as you reached your climax.

It was intense, like always, leaving you babbling out his name as your body went limp. You were covered in sweat, hips stuttering as he coaxed out your orgasm with a few slow pumps of his fingers.

“Viktor,” you mewled after the feeling finally washed away, pouting as you pulled away from his hands until his fingers slipped out from your cunt, “please, let me make you feel good,” you slurred, properly fucked out. You attempted to sit up, but his free hand pressed against your stomach and forced you down while he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“I let you cum because you were being such a patient girl,” he murmured from his position on the floor. Ignoring the pain in his legs to please you, “Stay down.”

Slowly, he climbed onto the couch above you, trapping you. You buried your face into his neck, whining as he settled between your legs.

“Viktor,” you breathed out his name again, the feeling of his fingers back within your folds causing you to cry out a loud whimper. You twitched, hips trying to run from the fingers that had made you see stars and had your body oversensitive, “too much.”

He smirked, ignoring your pleas as a hand wrapped around your throat.

“Oh, no, love,” Viktor whispered into your ear, teeth dragging against the shell of your ear as grabbed the base of his cock, the tip rubbing along your wet cunt, “I’m not done with you yet.”