friday night fire fight - oneshots

v. vektor (nsfw)

fucked
viktor vektor x f!reader
2k words

summary: while watching you in a street fight, viktor thinks about what's holding him back from you.

warnings/tags: pining, age gap, some descriptions of masturbation and sex, blood, street fighting, vik's down bad

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Viktor knew he was fucked the first time he saw you, in tow behind Jackie with a broken arm and a bloody smile that made his stomach clench in the best way possible. He knew he was fucked when you started coming around more often, bringing dinner and gossip from your latest jobs. He knew he was fucked the times you used his gym to train, and he would pretend to work while watching sweat drip down the back of your neck and imagine licking it off with the flat of his tongue.

Yeah, he was fucked.

And it was all on you.

Viktor exhaled a sigh as he locked the clinic door, then tread back down the dim stairwell and back into his cave - at least, that was what you called it. He'd shut up the place early in anticipation of the fight preparing to happen at this moment.

But this wasn't one of his matches he watched on the network. This was a match taking place in a Kabuki back parking lot, filmed on a cellphone, streamed on an app that forced him to connect his tablet to his television so he could watch it without squinting. This was a winner takes all, loser gets shamed and maybe dies of a brain bleed later kind of fight.

And you were participating in it.

Grabbing the screwdriver he often fiddled with on his mechanical fingers, he dropped into his rolling chair so that he sat backwards and raised his arms to rest on the backrest. Absentmindedly, he began to tinker with his cyber appendages and trained his eyes on the screen.

When you'd come into the clinic last week and told you about this fight, he was wary, to say the least. You would be going up against Simon Shredder - an infamous street fighter known for pulling mantis blades on his opponents when the match wasn't going his way. You had assured Viktor you'd be fine. You had Jackie there with you.

Viktor had snorted at that. "Like two of you is going to be a match for a half-crazed backstabber and his dozens of fans."

"You're always free to come along," you had told him while you steadied the punching bag. He hadn't been able to stop himself from glancing at the tops of your sweaty breasts, hidden behind your sports bra. "That is, if you can keep your eyes on the fight."

Viktor twisted the screwdriver a little too hard and grimaced before shaking his hand out and flexing his fingers.

It was always something with you - wether it was flirtatious comments like that, or giving him a kiss on the cheek in thanks for a repair that lasted a little too long, or making yourself far too comfortable around him to be considered a friend and nothing more. He couldn't count on his hands the number of times you'd stayed late to watch a fight and propped your feet up in his lap - dangerously close to his crotch, which he'd shifted to try and avoid your foot with. The last thing he needed was you realizing such a simple act could make him hard as granite.

Besides, what would a pretty little thing like you do with an old man like him? You had other young people chasing after you left and right. Like you'd ever think of him like he thought of you.

Shoving tongues down throats until neither of you could breathe. Grinding against hips. Gripping thighs and releasing small, desperate moans...

Fuck, he was a goddamn pervert. He needed to get a serious fucking grip.