my-horniness-is-okay

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Hi! May I request for a fem reader x Mel,Jayce,Viktor and Caitlyn (separately) like reader sitting on their lap and the characters doing it (don't ask me how Jayce fits, he simply will lol)

-Ty

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧, 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐌𝐞𝐥

⇢ 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠/ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 (𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬), 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩-𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Caitlyn loves letting you take control—she's a little dominant in her day-to-day life, but when you're on top of her?

She melts beneath you.

The moment you straddle her lap, you'll feel her hands settle on your waist, trembling slightly as she looks up at you with wide, desperate eyes.

"Fuck... you're stunning," she breathes, dragging her fingers over your thighs, drinking in every inch of you.

She loves it when you go slow at first, rolling your hips, letting her strap slide in and out of your soaking cunt at a teasing pace.

But the moment you speed up? She completely falls apart.

Her hands squeeze your ass, nails digging in as she tries to hold on, her head tilting back against the pillows, lips parted in a breathless moan.

"Shit-y-you're... so fucking tight," she whimpers, her grip on your hips tightening, like she doesn't know if she wants you to slow down or go faster.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭

• Desperate & Needy: Caitlyn gets so fucking overwhelmed when you ride her hard and fast, her hands scrambling to hold onto your waist as she whines beneath you.

• Soft & Intimate: Some nights, she loves when you take it slow, rolling your hips deep and steady, letting her feel every inch of you squeezing her strap.

"Please, darling-fuck, please," she whimpers, her fingers gripping your hips as she tries to thrust up into you, needing more.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

Caitlyn loves watching you come first, her hands gripping your ass, guiding you as you grind against her, soaking her strap as you moan her name.

The moment she feels you tighten around the plastic, she gasps, gripping you so hard you'll have marks, her whole body trembling as she spills inside you with the fake toy.

"Gods, you feel... so fucking good," she breathes, her hands still on your thighs as she tries to catch her breath.

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲, 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

Jayce lives for the sight of you riding him-the way your tits bounce, the way your face twists with pleasure, the way your soaked pussy slides down his cock, taking him all the way in.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his big hands gripping your ass, spreading you open, making sure he gets the perfect view of your soaked cunt taking him in.

He loves when you start slow, teasing him, rolling your hips and making him watch his cock disappear into your dripping pussy inch by inch.

But he's not patient. The moment he starts getting desperate, he grabs your hips and slams you down onto him, making you take every thick, aching inch of his cock.

"That's it, take it-fuck, you're so fucking tight, baby," he groans, his head tilting back, teeth gritted as he watches you bounce on his cock.

His hands never stop touching you-gripping your ass, palming your tits, rubbing your clit just to watch you squirm.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭

• Fast & Messy: He loves when you ride him rough, bouncing on his cock so hard the bed shakes, his fingers gripping your hips as he groans about how good you feel.

• Pinned Down & Teasing: If you hold his wrists above his head and grind against him slow, dragging your soaked pussy over his length, he completely loses it.

"Fuck, baby, please," he groans, his abs flexing as he tries to thrust up into you, desperate for more.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

Jayce always finishes inside you-he loves the way you feel around him, the way you tighten when you come, milking every last drop from him.

"Shit-I'm close-" he groans, grabbing your hips, slamming you down onto him, spilling inside you with a deep, broken moan.

He keeps you there afterward, cock still buried inside you, panting, groaning as he watches his cum drip out of you.

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Viktor is obsessed with the way you feel on top of him-the way your warm, soaking cunt slowly sinks down onto his cock, stretching you open.

"Ah, fuck-" he chokes out, his hands gripping your hips like he's afraid you'll disappear.

He can't stop touching you-his fingers dig into your thighs, his lips parting as he watches your pussy swallow his cock over and over again.

"You feel... s-so perfect," he breathes, his head tilting back as his nails bite into your skin.

Viktor loves when you tease him, rolling your hips slowly, making him beg-his voice getting soft and desperate as he pleads for more.

"P-please, my love," he whimpers, his hips jerking up into you, desperate for more friction.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭

• Slow & Deep: He loves when you go slow, grinding down on him, dragging out every inch, making him feel every bit of you tightening around him.

• Overwhelmed & Begging: If you pin his wrists and ride him fast, he completely falls apart, whimpering beneath you, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

"Ah-f-fuck, please-" he gasps, his face twisted in pleasure, his body trembling beneath you.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

Viktor loses himself when you come first, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking him for everything he has.

"Shit, I'm-I'm-" he chokes out, his whole body tensing before he spills deep inside you, panting, shaking, whimpering as you ride him through it.

Afterward, he clings to you, pulling you down against his chest, whispering soft praises, pressing lazy kisses to your temple.

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 | 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Mel loves watching you take control, but she never lets you forget who's really in charge.

The moment you straddle her lap, her hands settle on your waist, her nails dragging over your skin.

"Mmm, take what you need, my love," she murmurs, her golden eyes watching every movement, every shiver, every moan.

She loves when you start slow, dragging your soaked pussy over her strap, teasing yourself, teasing her, making her ache to be inside you.

But she doesn't let you tease for long.

The moment you sink down onto her strap, her hands grip your hips tight, guiding your movements, controlling the rhythm even when you're on top.

"That's it, my love," she purrs, dragging her nails over your thighs as you ride the fake plastic, slow and deep.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭

• Controlled & Deep: Mel loves gripping your waist, making you move exactly how she wants, dragging her strap deep inside you, making you feel every inch.

• Messy & Desperate: When she's desperate, she lets you fuck her as hard as you want, her head tilting back as she groans your name.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

Mel grits her teeth when she comes, her nails dragging down your spine, her hips grinding against you as she fills you up.

„Fuck, look at you," she whispers, watching the way you tremble, her hands still guiding your movements, even after she's spent.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

someone commented on my fic and I couldn’t get this image outta my head

[my-horniness-is-okay]

go read High Hawk Season RIGHT NOW please and give it some love, i love the characterization in it <3

[my-horniness-is-okay]

and now the "budget" consists of pocket lint if we can find it. but who's counting

[my-horniness-is-okay]

"Let's just... stay here? Together?"

[my-horniness-is-okay]

"Let's just... stay here? Together?"

[my-horniness-is-okay]

thinking about casual protectiveness today. a hand gently kept on my waist, to steer me around and keeping me close. gently pulling me around to switch sides when we’re out together, so that i’m always safe on the inside of the sidewalk. moving closer and reminding me of your presence whenever i seem anxious or uncomfortable. just…feeling protected. safe.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Just for the giggles, elves having drastically different bodies might mean Silas could have things dangerous to humans in his home when he first brings Darling back. Like, poisonous berries or mushrooms for example. And just Silas having a good old fashion, prying his pet's mouth open demanding to know what Darling put in their mouth. (Please note, Darling wasn't self harming, Darling just doesn't know their poisonous plants.)

Oh I love that. Silas making you open your mouth and sliding his much bigger finger in to check if you ate something poisonous. He'd keep you on his lap so you don't trash around as he checks to make sure.

Maybe he'd get a bit distracted while doing so and start touching your teeth and tongue. Feeling fascinated by how cute and small all of them are, maybe he'd gently grab your tongue and pull it out, rubbing his thumb over it to feel its texture and your saliva.

Imagine him biting it after pulling your tongue out. Ofc in a way that won't hurt you, just giving it a gentle nibble. He can't help it, you're just too cute and so is your little tongue. The texture would be quite different than his, since elf tongues are smoother...

"Wait wasn't he checking if I ate something poisonous?" you might ask, he confirmed you didn't as soon as he opened your mouth and checked the smell of your breath. Now he's focused on playing with your cute little moth, it's alright right?

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Viktor as the readers teacher??🙏🙏🙏

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝟐𝟏, 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝟑𝟎𝐬), 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞/ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐧𝐠𝐥 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐦𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 (≧◡≦)

Professor! Viktor who is the most brilliant mind in the department, respected, sharp-tongued, utterly ruthless when it comes to academics—and completely fucking obsessed with you.

Professor! Viktor who doesn't play favorites-except he absolutely does.

Professor! Viktor who tells himself he is above this, that he is a man of logic, that he would never be so weak as to be tempted by a student.

And then there's you.

And suddenly, he has no control at all.

• You're his best student. Not just smart-you're clever, intuitive, always ahead of the rest of the class, and you know it.

• You challenge him. You're not afraid to call him out, to argue theories, to push back when you think he's wrong—and fuck, does that get to him.

• You sit at the front. Every damn lecture, perfect posture, pen poised, watching him with eyes that linger just a second too long.

• You test him. A tilt of your head when he calls on you, a smirk when you answer something perfectly, a deliberate pause when you hand him your assignments, fingers just barely brushing his when you pass him the paper.

• You're a brat about it. You know you're his favorite. You never let him forget it.

Viktor knows he should keep his distance. But then you stay late after class, leaning against his desk, watching him with that smug little smirk, and he's absolutely doomed.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Professor! Viktor who is composed professional, unreadable-until he's alone in his office, his mind clouded with thoughts of you.

Professor! Viktor who barely gets through a lecture without thinking about the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating, the way your skirt hikes up when you cross your legs, the way you look at him when you know you're being impossible.

Professor! Viktor who hates himself for it, hates how easy it is to lose control when he's supposed to be better than this—

But the second he's alone?

His hand is already unzipping his slacks.

He leans back in his chair, head tipping against the leather, one hand gripping the arrest, the other already stroking his cock, imagining it's your soft little hand wrapped around him instead.

Imagining you on your knees between his legs, looking up at him with those big, teasing eyes.

"Ah…" he mutters under his breath, his voice rough, wrecked, his strokes getting faster, his grip tightening.

"You drive me insane."

And when he comes? It's with your name on his lips, his mind already clouded with when he'll get to see you next.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

At first, it's subtle.

• His eyes linger just a second too long when you stretch in class.

• His fingers twitch when you pass him something, like he's resisting the urge to grab your wrist instead.

• His breath hitches whenever you get too close, his jaw tightening like he's barely keeping himself together.

It gets worse.

One day, you "accidentally" drop something in his office, bending over to pick it up, your skirt riding up just enough to expose your thighs.

Viktor inhales sharply, his hand tightening around his cane, his golden-brown eyes darkening.

"You do that on purpose," he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous.

You smirk, straightening up, tilting your head. "Do what?"

Viktor just chuckles, shaking his head, dragging his tongue over his teeth.

"You are a little menace, draga mea," he mutters, his fingers twitching, like he's resisting the urge to touch you.

Then-you notice.

You glance down-and there, against the fabric of his slacks, is the unmistakable outline of his cock.

Hard. For you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Viktor moves.

You barely have time to react before he's pinning you against his desk, his hands gripping your waist, his lips crashing against yours.

"You are impossible," he mutters against your mouth, his voice rough, his breath unsteady.

"You torment me in my own classroom, make me lose my mind-"

You gasp, whimpering as he lifts you onto the desk, spreading your thighs.

"Professor-"

He groans, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, his golden-brown eyes dark with something unreadable.

"Open," he murmurs, pressing his thumb past your lips, watching the way you suck on it, your tongue warm, wet, wrapping around him perfectly.

"Ah," he breathes, his cock twitching against his slacks. "That is not fair, draga mea."

Then-his other hand slips between your legs.

You gasp, your body trembling as he drags his fingers through your slick folds, feeling how soaked you already are.

"Gods," he groans, his jaw tightening, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth.

"You have been like this for me all this time?"

You whimper, nodding, your thighs shaking around his waist.

Viktor just chuckles, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, grinning.

"You are going to regret teasing me for so long."

And then-he sinks into you.

It's fast, rough, desperate-years of tension snapping all at once.

Viktor grips your hips, his thrusts deep, sharp, his cock stretching you open, hitting every perfect spot inside you.

"You take me so well," he mutters, dragging his thumb from your mouth, tracing it over your bottom lip.

"You wanted to be my favorite student, hm?"

He snaps his hips forward, making you sob.

"Then prove it."

You whimper, gripping his shoulders, barely able to think.

Viktor grins, pressing his lips against your ear, his voice low, teasing.

"Come for me, darling" he murmurs, his fingers circling your clit, pushing you over the edge.

"You have already ruined me—it is only fair I return the favor."

Like you were ever going to be the same after this.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Viktor Art

[my-horniness-is-okay]

viktor and jayce fighting over you??

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐨

1. The Scientific Method (or How to Win You Over)

It starts subtly—at least, as subtle as Jayce can manage.

“You know,” he says, leaning against your desk, broad shoulders blocking your view of the latest schematics, “I was thinking—you and I should go out sometime. Just the two of us. For research purposes.”

You don’t even have time to process before Viktor, seated across from you, speaks without looking up from his own work.

“Research into what? The effects of secondhand embarrassment?”

Jayce shoots him a glare. “Into team bonding, Viktor.”

“Mm. And what hypothesis are you testing? That you can single-handedly drive them to madness?” Viktor hums, scratching something in his notes. “A bold assumption, but I suppose it is not entirely unfounded.”

Jayce turns back to you, ignoring him. “Dinner. Drinks. Maybe some—”

“A headache,” Viktor mutters.

Jayce groans, running a hand down his face before pointing at you. “You. Pick a side here.”

You exhale, setting down your pen. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.”

“We aren’t arguing,” Viktor says at the same time Jayce huffs, “We are arguing.”

You stare at them both. They stare at each other.

This has been happening for weeks.

It’s not always this obvious—sometimes it’s in the little things, the way Viktor always ensures your coffee is warm but lets Jayce suffer with whatever’s left in the pot. Or how Jayce somehow always has an extra set of tools whenever you’re missing yours, grinning like he wasn’t just waiting for the opportunity.

And the way they bicker—gods, it never ends.

“Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Jayce, we can do dinner. And Viktor, you can join.”

Jayce groans, throwing his head back. “Not the third-wheel invitation—”

“I accept,” Viktor interrupts smoothly.

Jayce turns to him, expression wounded. “Dude.”

“You do not own them, Jayce.”

“Neither do you!”

Viktor just smiles.

You take another sip of your coffee. This is going to be a long night.

2. The Art of Winning (or Just Being Petty)

“Y/n, my dearest, most trusted lab partner,” Viktor says, sidling up next to you while you’re examining some blueprints. “You are an artist of unparalleled skill. Would you mind assisting me with some designs?”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can answer, Jayce materializes from across the room.

“Woah, woah, hold on, I was just about to ask them for help.”

Viktor tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Just about to? How convenient.”

Jayce narrows his eyes. “You knew I was gonna ask them—”

“Mm. And yet, I asked first.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Time is linear, Jayce. Surely you understand this.”

Jayce looks ready to explode.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You both know I have other work to do, right?”

They don’t. They definitely don’t.

But Jayce recovers first, flashing you his most charming smile. “C’mon, you know I have the bigger project right now—”

“Size does not determine quality, Jayce,” Viktor interrupts. “By that logic, your brain should be much more effective.”

Jayce’s jaw drops. “Did you just—?”

“Mm?” Viktor takes a slow sip of his tea.

You sigh, turning away before you witness a murder. “I’m flipping a coin. Heads, I help Jayce. Tails, I help Viktor.”

Jayce’s shoulders relax. “That seems fair.”

Viktor hums, noncommittal.

You flip. The coin lands. You glance at it.

Then, you slap it onto your palm before either of them can see and say, “I’m helping myself today.”

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, and Jayce groans, dropping his head onto the nearest surface.

“Brilliant,” Viktor murmurs. “I am rubbing off on you.”

Jayce mumbles something into the desk. You pat his shoulder in consolation before walking away, leaving them to their stalemate.

3. The Heart of the Matter (Or: Maybe They’re Not as Subtle as They Think)

At some point, you begin to wonder if they even know what they’re fighting over.

Because it’s not just lab work. It’s not just projects, or coffee, or who gets to sit next to you during meetings.

It’s you.

And they’re both smart enough to know it, even if neither of them says it outright.

It’s in the way Jayce’s gaze lingers whenever you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound. The way Viktor’s voice softens when he murmurs your name, careful, like he knows the weight it holds.

It’s in how they both wait for you at the end of the day, pretending it’s just coincidence.

It’s in the way Viktor watches Jayce’s arm brush against yours and says nothing, but his fingers tighten around his cane. In how Jayce watches Viktor pull you in to murmur something close and he says nothing, but his jaw tenses.

It’s in the way neither of them will ever say it—but neither of them will yield, either.

And you?Well.

You just let them fight.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Hot

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐰/ 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 (𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲)

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧/𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭)

𝐀 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬

✰ Jayce sleeps like a furnace, always warm, always pressed against you, and when he wakes up hard? Oh, he's needy as fuck.

✰ The moment he stirs, his big hands slide up your bare waist, squeezing your tits, his half-hard cock pressing hot against your ass as he groans sleepily in your ear.

✰ "Mmm, baby," he murmurs, voice thick and raspy, his breath warm against your neck as he slowly grinds against you. He's barely awake, but he already wants to be inside you.

✰ If you wiggle your hips against him, it's over. Jayce grabs your thigh and throws it over his, grinding his cock between your soaked folds, smearing your slick along his length.

✰ "Fuck, you're already so wet for me," he groans, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing you as you whimper.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✰ Lazy, Deep, & Filthy-Jayce slides inside you slowly, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open, groaning as your pussy clenches around him.

✰ He spoons you from behind, one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand groping your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he fucks into you with slow, heavy thrusts.

✰"God, you feel so fucking good—so warm, so tight." His cock drags against your slick walls, pushing deep until you're gasping.

✰ He doesn't let you move much-he holds you in place, whispering how good you feel, his thrusts slow and deliberate.

𝐎𝐫, 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤

✰ If he's desperate, he'll roll you onto your stomach, push your legs apart, and slide his cock inside you in one deep stroke.

✰"Shit, baby, you're soaking my cock," he growls, grabbing your hips and dragging you back onto him, fucking into you harder, rougher, deeper.

✰ His big hands hold you down as he pounds into your sloppy, wet cunt, his thick cock stretching you open while you moan into the pillow.

✰ He loves watching his cock disappear into your pussy, groaning as you tighten around him, fucking you until your thighs are shaking.

✰ "Fuck, I wanna fill you up-wanna see my cum dripping out of you, baby," he groans, thrusting deeper, grinding against your clit until you're falling apart around him.

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

✰ Jayce kisses your shoulders, your back, your thighs, whispering sweet praises about how perfect you are.

✰ He won't let you get up yet-he slides his fingers between your thighs, spreading your folds to watch his cum slowly drip out of you.

✰ "Fuck, look at that," he murmurs, rubbing your clit lazily, making you whimper even though you're already spent.

✰ Eventually, he pulls you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before grinning. "I should wake you up like this every morning."

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫

✰ Viktor doesn't sleep much, so when you wake up, he's already awake, watching you with a knowing smirk, fingers trailing over your bare stomach.

✰ "Good morning, love" he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with want, his fingers already dragging between your thighs to find you wet.

✰ "Oh?" he teases, slipping a finger inside you, feeling how warm and slick you are. "You're already ready for me, hm?"

✰ He loves watching you squirm under his touch, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder while he slowly fucks you with his fingers, curling them just right.

✰ "That's it, my love," he coos, dragging his thumb over your clit, teasing you until you're arching your back and grinding against his hand.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✰ Viktor loves dragging it out-making you desperate, making you beg. He'll spend minutes running the tip of his cock along your dripping pussy, rubbing it against your clit, listening to you whimper before he finally gives in.

✰ "You want it, don't you?" he murmurs, voice smooth but teasing as he pushes just the tip inside, then pulls back, making you cry out.

✰ Slow, Deep, & Filthy-When he finally sinks inside you, he takes his time, letting you feel every inch stretching you open, pushing as deep as he can go.

✰ He groans low in your ear, voice thick with need. "You take me so well, love. So warm... so tight around my cock."

✰ He keeps you pinned beneath him, rolling his hips slowly, grinding against your clit, stretching you open inch by inch.

✰ His grip on your waist tightens when he starts fucking you deeper, his hips snapping against yours, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

𝐎𝐫, 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

✰ Some mornings, Viktor wakes up aching for you, his cock already hard and pressing against your slick folds, throbbing.

✰ "I need you, my love," he groans, his accent thick as he guides his cock inside you, barely giving you time to adjust before he's thrusting deep.

✰ He's rougher when he's needy, rutting against you, panting into your skin, pinning you down as he fucks you like he can't get enough.

✰ "Fuck, you feel so good-so tight, squeezing my cock like this," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still and fucks you harder.

✰ His hips snap against yours, his pace getting messy, desperate, broken moans spilling from his lips as he thrusts deep, chasing his release.

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

✰ He loves making you come first— holding you against his chest, fucking you slow and deep until you're trembling and moaning his name.

✰ But he's not done when you come-he groans as your pussy clenches around him, thrusting deep as you whimper from overstimulation, feeling him stretch you open again.

✰ "Just a little more, my love," he whispers, holding you still as he fucks you through the overstimulation, chasing his own release until he spills inside you, moaning your name.

✰ Afterward, he's breathless but tender-pulling you close, stroking your hair, whispering soft praises against your skin.

✰ He loves watching his cum drip from your pussy, his fingers lazily spreading your folds, teasing your overstimulated clit just to make you shiver.

✰ "Perhaps we should wake up like this every morning," he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple before finally letting you rest.

@dreamyraincloud ♡

[my-horniness-is-okay]

kinda smutty but basically viktor x reader kinda modern au where he has to go to an event later, but reader distracts him by bringing him to bed and making out. eventually leads to multiple hickeys on his neck (i just know this man’s skin would bruise easily) which then leads to rushed makeup haul to find something that matches him to cover up. i love love love love love love love love love love love love love your writing! it’s so good!

Hi Anon! I see we share a common obsession with Viktor's neck. You match my freak.

Cuteness Aggression

viktorxgn!reader mature! kissing, or rather making out, slight dry humping and dirty talk

author’s note: Sue makes a cameo (or rather is mentioned in this fic), because I wanted it to be as inclusive as possible, therefore I am not mentioning Reader's skin tone. Other than that, it's just lovebombing fluff. Also heeh, it has a tiny bit of playful wrestling, because I am an inconsistent twat. Viktor's scent for this fic is: Hyde by Hiram Green.

word count: 2,1K

—

“Why are you looking at me like this?”

Viktor’s voice snapped you out of the wanderings of your deranged mind. Oh, and did your mind wander. It snaked itself beneath the leg of his woollen trousers, hugging his tiny ass so nicely. Then up, up his sleeve to place an imaginary kiss on the vein in the crook of his elbow and lick his stomach right where the belt would inevitably leave a dent in the skin.

Then, your imaginary tongue travelled up, making a stop at every freckle, only to leave a nasty bite mark somewhere in the middle of his chest. And maybe on his neck as well. Which was now flexing proudly from the V-shaped collar of his sweater, the tiniest bit of white shirt peeking from underneath it. A dark brown coat on top, framing him into a model example of someone who just looks effortlessly good.

You were kneeling on the bed, ogling him shamelessly, Viktor’s eyes pensive on you as he tried to squeeze the verdict out of your agape mouth. “Well? My eyes are up here, I will remind you.”

“I, uh…” you mumbled stupidly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Yes, that looks good.” Eyes still fixed on him, because you forgot how to blink.

“I feel like I should change into something less slutty if this is your reaction. We wouldn’t want people at the charity gala throwing themselves at me, would we?” He smirked, looking at his nails nonchalantly, and suddenly you realised your face was burning.

“God, sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly and hid your face in your palms. “I just haven’t seen you all dressed up in a while.”

“No, no need to be sorry, I am immensely enjoying this, if you couldn’t tell by now,” he said smugly, shaking his coat off and throwing it over a chair. “I would take massive advantage of it if Jayce wasn’t picking me up in half an hour.” He took a couple of steps forward and dropped his cane on the mattress beside you.

“Well, maybe you could take a little advantage then?” you asked playfully, rising on your knees and pulling him by the belt to sit on the bed next to you. Straddling his hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck and licked his cheek all the way up to his temple. “I can’t believe you are abandoning me, looking like this, to flex in front of some STEM bros.”

“Ah, I solemnly swear to atone upon my return.” A low, suggestive whisper rumbled against your skin as his hands cradling your ass sent a jolt up your spine, and you involuntarily sunk deeper into his lap, forcing a grunt out of him. Viktor shot you a scolding look and chuckled, “If you ruin my pants, I’m taking yours. And you wouldn’t want that.”

“You better pray I don’t ruin you and that you can feel your legs when I’m done with you,” you breathed out, placing a trail of slick kisses on the tendon of his neck, and Viktor cackled, the pitch of his laugh embarrassingly high.

Playfully, he pushed you away, his lips forming a comical pout. “You cannot crumple me! We’ve been picking those clothes for an hour, ah—” he gasped as your teeth caught his earlobe. A giggle pushed itself past his mouth, and his hands squeezed your thighs firmly. “That’s it,” he stated, shrugging you off of him, only to crawl on top of you clumsily.

He pinned your hands above your head, lifted your shirt with his nose and blew a raspberry on your stomach, making you squirm and kick your legs around. “Please! I surrender, ah!” You screamed as he tickled your tummy with his nose and tongue.

Viktor lifted himself and shot you a look to check if you did, in fact, surrender and regretted instantly as you wrapped your legs around him and trapped him in a tight squeeze, forcing him to let out a startled huff. He landed with his chest flush against yours, your noses bumping each other.

“I am ready to suffer the consequences of crumpling you, mister,” you whispered against his lips, when a concern crossed your thoughts at the sight of a frown on his forehead. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, only my pride,” he snorted, kissing your neck. “If I knew some nice pants and a sweater would make you go so feral, I’d dress up every day.” You were flashed an incredulous grin and granted freedom of your hands, which you immediately used to tangle your fingers into Viktor’s hair and shove your tongue into his mouth.

He moaned, at first surprised, then just welcoming, when his hands snaked around your body to squeeze your waist and cup your ass once more. He rolled both of you to the side, but you wouldn’t have it and pushed him further to trap him underneath you.

“It seems the more I can’t have you, the more I want you. Something to think about,” you smirked and ground your hips into his mercilessly. Viktor groaned, his hands hovering tentatively around your thighs before slapping your ass playfully.

“I told you how I feel about my pants getting ruined or me getting crumpled, but you seem to be completely deaf,” Viktor huffed, utterly bemused by the sudden rush of want in you, as you licked his neck, making all sorts of obscene smacking sounds.

You cupped his face, your fingers digging into the base of his skull as your tongue traced his upper lip and the seam of his mouth, coaxing him to open. A laugh got caught in his throat as your nose pressed against his and you inhaled him deeply, licking the roof of his mouth and sending a content moan straight to his stomach.

His hips bucked beneath you, making a smile bloom across your lips. You tugged at his hair to expose his neck and placed a trail of loving pecks all the way down to his collar bone. Viktor writhed against you, sending threats in your direction, his breathy tone making them sound entirely unserious. “You have no idea what I am going to do to you when I come back.”

“Oh, baby, are you not enjoying my love?” You cooed against his skin, blowing on a new love mark you sucked into his neck.

“I am enjoying it thoroughly,” he grunted, pressing his half-hard cock up to meet your core and you whined into the crook of his shoulder, careful not to drool on his beautiful sweater. “But I have something around twenty minutes before Jayce gets here, and you are making me look like a whore.”

“But you make such a beautiful whore, Viktor, I can’t help it,” you wheezed theatrically into his ear, drawing another giggle this evening. “Also, this will make it look like you really cared about coming to the gala.” Without putting much thought into what you had just said, you resumed your work on spattering Viktor’s neck with little marks of affection.

And he let you, because it felt too great to stop. The weight of your hips so sweet on his pelvis that he could probably get off on it if he let you grind on him for a little while longer. Your hands groping him greedily, your usual roles suddenly switched, as he was the one panting and writhing for his dear life, praying that his crotch wouldn’t be damp after all of this.

He let himself be pulled by the bite on his lower lip, let his shirt slip out of his pants as you explored his stomach and stuffed your greedy fingers under his belt, tickling his navel. He allowed you to palm him through his pants, even though it had earned you a bite on the neck of your own.

You leeched onto his skin, chuckling between the small nips at his lips, a singular web-like strand of drool connecting your mouths. When you finally lifted to gaze upon your creation, Viktor looked like a fallen angel—his hair a complete mess, face and ears a darker shade of pink, eyes molten, lids hooded, and mouth slightly parted in a soft smile. And his clothes, well, crumpled like a thin paper sheet.

He traced his fingers under your t-shirt, rubbing circles on each of your sides. Admiring the mark that had begun to bloom on your collarbone, a realisation hit him. He was going to be a complete hot mess, his neck most likely stained with bruises. He clasped a hand to his mouth and whispered in exaggerated concern, “How bad is the damage?”

You cocked your head from side to side, smiling innocently, and he rolled his eyes, your name falling from his lips in a playful scold. Shrugging you off of himself, he reached to the bedside for your mirror and nearly choked at the state of his skin—red, bloodshot marks covering his neck, a slight swelling around the spots you bit on harder.

“Lásko, you have outdone yourself,” he sighed, tracing his fingertips across each of the love confessions you sucked into his skin. “And what am I going to do now, hm?”

“A turtleneck?” You laughed, waggling your eyebrows at him. “Or a scarf?”

“Yes, let’s make it even more obvious. Other ideas, and please let them be good?”

“I can suck on the rest of you, so the colour matches everywhere, ow!” You winced at the pinch on your ass and batted Viktor’s hand away. “Alright! Alright, I think Sue left something behind after the last time, let me check if it matches you.” Honest capitulation could be heard in your voice, as you slid off the bed to search for Sue’s foundation in the bathroom—the only person you knew that could match Viktor in the ghastly skin tone club.

You grabbed it triumphantly from the drawer under the sink and threw it in Viktor’s direction, before grabbing your make-up bag and kneeling in front of him on the bed.

“Lift, please,” you said flatly, propping his chin up, momentarily fixated on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath your fingers. You gave his throat an affectionate squeeze and murmured, “Bye, bye hickeys,” making Viktor chuckle.

“You will see them again in the evening,” he said warmly, placing his hands on your thighs.

“Oh, you bet your ass I will. I am going to scrub this makeup off you the minute you step through the door,” you muttered absently, your focus fully on pounding the fluid onto your masterpiece.

 “I think this is my best work yet,” you announced proudly, adding more and more product, as the stubborn redness refused to disappear under Sue’s delicate cosmetics.

You had to use baby powder to set it, since none of your humble makeup collection items seemed to match Viktor’s skin tone, making him smell like a newborn, who happened to like birch tar and bergamot cologne.

You patted his cheek affectionately and passed him the mirror so he could evaluate whether the troubleshooting had proven successful, adding in a flat, nasal tone, “We do not accept refunds.”

“Not bad,” he hummed, flexing his neck, which immediately made you weak in your knees.

“I hope you understand I will have to make you squirm for this later, yes?” he said matter-of-factly, slapping his palms flat on your thighs, his eyebrows lifted in expectation.

You nodded and kept nodding until Viktor smiled and your face twisted into a dumb grin. “That’s settled then,” he stated with one final firm pat on your legs and lifted himself off the bed. He grabbed his cane, coat, checked his phone and mumbled something about Jayce already waiting downstairs.

You walked up to him, pinching his ass and picking at his hair, your hands wandering as you tried to straighten his clothes and put his shirt back in place. Before leaving, he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered against your lips, “Thank you. I’m much less nervous than I was half an hour ago.”

“Hmm, no worries,” you murmured between soft kisses placed on his beauty marks. “I am so very proud of you; I hope you know this.”

“Oh yes, after today I am convinced that if you could, you would wear my skin as a pelt,” he chuckled against your neck, his breath fanning your skin with a warm breeze. “I would have to make sure it’s covered with hickeys before that,” you said, adjusting his collar. “And I would never, ever take it off.”

[my-horniness-is-okay]

You have invited me in you inbox, and here I am, like a starved goblin. I can't get enough of Dom Viktor. The way he has you wrapped around his fingers without even touching you, dominating both your body and mind with the way he looks at you and his words. By the time he finally touches you, it's not long before you come undone. He's soft and caring for your comfort, which only makes it more erotic.

Hello, love, sorry for the long wait! I took the opportunity and went into classic dom/sub mode, hope you don't mind :v

Lay My Hands on Heaven

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! with Dom!Viktor TW: bondage, subspace/domspace without being mentioned + aftercare brought to you by @rennethen

word count: 2,1K

author's note: Title from NIN song. And yes, this is also mostly smut, but Viktor is a good dom :v I guess my last time victory of writing something under 1K was a fluke :')

—

The rope gets hung over your neck and draped down your chest as you kneel obediently on the mattress and Viktor takes a moment to think. He props his chin on his hand and gives you a long, calculating stare. Then, his fingers trace your collarbone as he cris-crosses it between your breasts and moves to the back. Your breath hitches once he ties the first knot.

“Too tight?” You can’t see him, but you know he smirks. His hand rubs your back between the shoulder blades before he moves back to the front to continue. He brushes his thumb on your lower lip and murmurs, “So pretty like this,” and something jolts inside you as your lids flutter shut.

After a moment of nothing, you open your eyes to meet Viktor’s drilling into you, his expression unamused. Your eyebrows shot up and he says again, “I have asked you a question, haven’t I? Is it too tight?”

“No,” you answer, and your voice is so breathy it’s almost non-existent. Viktor nods and proceeds. He works carefully and meticulously following the pattern that soon creates a harness on your chest—going from your neck, down, down your sternum to spread onto your shoulders, securing your arms on the back. It’s done so you can palm your elbows behind you. The lower bits wrap around your stomach, and you feel the familiar sensation of a hug that both comforts and restrains. Rope digging gently into your flesh with every miniscule movement, the anticipation of marks it’s going to leave everywhere makes you breathe a little deeper, a little calmer.

He sneaks his fingers between the knots and your skin and pulls on each, checking if they will hold, making you whimper. Viktor pauses, his eyes narrowing. He moves his face so close to yours that your mouths touch when he mutters, “Do I need to gag you?”

You shake your head. He repeats, for around fifth time already, his voice is annoyed but expression playful. “Words?”

“No,” a quiet quip escapes you and the proximity is killing you both. You don’t move, save for the quiver of your mouth opening wider against his. And Viktor squeezes this opportunity dry—he sends a hot breath straight inside, a chuckle, a tease of his tongue. First on your upper lip, then past the entrance, licking the roof of your mouth, a quiet smack against it. You will all the cells in your body to not budge an inch and it pushes a drop sweat through the pores on your forehead.

And Viktor dares to chuckle in an attempt to cover up his own strain. And then he dares to disguise his own visceral want as a mercy, when he grabs your jaw and bites your lip before kissing you. When his tongue invades your mouth, nose presses into your cheek and knuckles whiten on your chin. “So needy,” he coos, pulling away, lovingly mocking the way you lift your hips, and your face follows his.

You shoot him a wounded look and he props your chin with the handle of his cane. “I think you are still granted a little too much freedom of movement.” Something roars in his chest when he sees you like this and realises it’s all his doing.

Cane reaches to the side of the bed, and Viktor pulls up another set of ropes and places it in front of your knees. He hooks two loops over your neck—one for each side— and stretches the remaining length between his fists. The rope wobbles in front of your eyes and Viktor hums, “Open your legs.”

Smile invades his face, when you slide your knees apart and hold your breath in anticipation. “Are you nervous?” he chuckles and before you can answer his middle finger traces through your slit. “Ah, I see. Not nervous. Exited.” When the finger brushes your clit you whimper and bring your legs together in an involuntary twitch, which earns you an amused scold. “This is exactly why we need those,” he sings, pulling on one of the loops around your neck.

Soon enough, your legs get bound in a permanent bend—calves attached to thighs, leaving your feet free to wiggle. Loops on both sides connect your neck and knees, causing your legs to open, and remain open, when Viktor hooks his cane over one of the knots on your back and swings you down to the mattress. Arms restrained under you push your ribcage out, arching your spine.

Viktor hums, a very pleased smirk dances on his lips. He adjusts a rope here and there to finally sit in front of you. He looks into your glassy eyes, his gaze follows down where the binding is already leaving indentations in your skin. He sighs, content, and when his eyes drop between your legs, for a moment he just watches you drip.

Feeling yourself shrinking under his scrutiny you throw, “Take a picture, it will last longer,” before you can bite your tongue. Next thing you hear is your own squeak at the immediate slap to your cunt—not hard, a warning.

“Are you forgetting yourself?” Viktor huffs, bemused by your tone. “I am almost tempted to just leave you here,” he threatens and smiles, seeing your eyebrows knit together in a silent plea. His hands walk by your sides, until you are caged between his arms, his clothed groin brushing your core. He presses it down on you and you moan and clench, spine arching even further. That’s going to leave a stain.

And Viktor is exactly in as much pain as you are. His clothes burn the sensitive skin, cock so uncomfortably restricted by his fly and belt he could howl. So he tries to cover it up by burying his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth, while making the most obscene sounds you’ve heard, and you so desperately want to clench your thighs, but you can’t. And it feels amazing for the both of you.

“I love you so much like this,” he allows himself to slip. Because having you all bound and completely at his mercy is almost better than fucking you. Almost.

He comes back to kneel between your legs, props the bad hip on the pillow and frees himself from the confines of the fly. Cock rests idly against your entrance—wet smacks against wet as he bucks slowly, teasing your clit. Your neck arches and throat bobs, your mouth falls open, palms squeeze your own elbows until your fingers go pale.

You are positioned so well, he enters you with no hands. Eyes molten, as he observes his cock disappear within you and you both groan once he’s hilted. He watches your womb bulge where the tip hits and he needs to feel it with his fingers. He brings his palm to rest on your lower belly—the softest press making your insides even more cramped. Thumb stretches down to your clit, making you moan out his name, “Viktor—"

“Yes? What do we say when we feel like this?” He answers the call, face as composed as ever, but voice wavers, only for your ears to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathe out and Viktor’s eyes roll in his skull. He picks up the pace, his right hand glued to your belly and clit, rubbing small circles, the other one traces his rigging work on your leg. Cock keeps hitting the roof of your cunt and you feel yourself growing tighter and tighter, the ropes digging deeper into your skin, all the sensations mixing together into one, blissful, blinding orgasm, as you come with a bunch of loud fucks and oh gods falling from your mouth.

Viktor’s head falls back on his shoulders at the feeling of your walls milking him, and he keeps fucking you through it. Mercifully, he releases your clit from under his thumb, only to press on your navel a little bit harder, caressing himself through the layers of your abdominal muscles.

With a couple of more hard thrusts, he clasps a hand to his mouth to cover up the sob that pushes past his mouth once he pulls out and spends himself all over your belly. A sputter of warmth startles you and you watch him, shoulders relaxing, forehead damp, shirt clinging to his chest, fingers loosely covering his lips. He blinks once, twice, gathering himself together, and gives you a grateful, loving smile. “You are such a good girl.”

You wiggle impatiently, willing him to kiss you and he comes down to press his lips to yours, a soft, chaste touch. “You did so well, lásko,” he hums, before showering your face with feather light pecks, each interrupted by a quiet praise and you feel yourself melting away.

When he gets up, he takes a moment to admire—your tied up form, legs apart, his cum painting your stomach, you so undeniably his in this moment. A quiet sigh escapes him, when he snags his cane and heads off to the bathroom, leaving you blissfully fucked out. You can hear the water in the sink turn on, and the bath towel cabinet open and close.

He doesn't stay away for long, and returns with a slightly damp, warm cloth. “I'm back,” he coos as he reaches you. “ I didn't forget you”.

You can feel the warmth swiping against your stomach and you involuntarily shiver at the sudden touch. Viktor’s hand lands on your belly in a reassuring rub. He moves the cloth down between your legs to clean up the mess he’s left behind. Hums all the way through it, his palms swiping across your body in a gentle caress.

Once again, he disappears in the bathroom to clean himself up and bring you back some water, lotion and a bathrobe. The mattress dips beside you as he sits and threads his fingers through your hair. You shift, ropes tightening around you, the space you are in slowly dissolving. “Untie me?” You plea and Viktor chuckles warmly.

 “Certainly.” He presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs, “Though I do enjoy the view thoroughly.”

His fingers begin the work of ghosting over the ropes, before settling on the ones on your legs. First, he unhooks the loops keeping you compressed, and you sigh in relief of being able to relax your stomach. Your left leg gets untangled first and Viktor traces the indentations with his fingers before rubbing in some lotion. His face is close to your skin, his expression calm as he mutters, “Well, that’s just beautiful, isn’t it.” He repeats on the other side, kneading your calves and thighs, before pulling you up to face him.

He hums and chuckles into a kiss he leaves on your lips, then moves behind you to free your arms. “So pretty,” he whispers absently, high in his own space, when he notices you’ve been quiet all this time. His palms slide down your shoulders and his mouth presses to the back of your neck. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes,” you hear yourself muttering. “Just sore and tired,” you add, sleep tangling your tongue. Viktor responds by kissing your wrists, the crease of your elbows, your shoulders and rubs more lotion into your skin. “Come, let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs pulling you to turn around and perch on his lap, your legs splayed on either sides of his hips.

He tugs on the harness, bringing your lips to his, as he whispers, “You undo me.” And what Viktor means is that your trust, your offerings, shatter him completely. He pulls the rope out of the knots and rolls it up around his arm. Then, he warms the lotion between his hands and places his palms flat on your navel, working his way up. And this simple act of getting undressed once again feels almost more intimate that being tied up not so long ago.

He kisses your chest, following the rope bruising there. Fingers and lips travel up to cup your face and rub his thumbs on your cheeks, adoration seeping from his gaze. He wraps you up in the bathrobe, before beckoning you to lay down and nuzzle into his chest. Warm hands pull your flush against him and as you breathe in his scent, Viktor croaks, “Thank you.” You want to ask whatever for, but sleep presses on you and the only thing you can muster is, “I love you.” You kiss his neck and your mouth stays there, open, fanning his skin as you both drift off into slumber.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

🤤

Can I request a fic with Viktor where he see their partner dressed up (for an event, wedding, or whatever), and you know, taking their breath away. They just look too pretty not to touch and so heavy makeout ensues. If you’re comfortable, can you make it spicy?

Hi Anon! I hope it's spicy enough :>

Off, off, off, off With Your Hands

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

word count: 1,6K

summary: Reader looks good and Viktor learns a lesson. It's just smut y'all. @rennethen beta read this!

author's note: Should I start including what kind of smut you can expect? I never specify (save for some TWs if there are any), but I can start!

—

Clothes are piled up all around you in the cramped space of the dressing room as you try to navigate which ones are in and which are out. At some point, you give up on trying them all on with shoes, trotting barefoot across the carpeted floor.

“This one?” You step out to present yourself to Viktor, who sits in the middle of the couch, looking entirely out of place. His cane is propped up at his side, and he’s sipping tea—courtesy of the nice attendant who took pity on him after the first hour of watching you try everything on.

“I would say that’s a maybe?” he offers weakly, his expression apologetic. But you can see it—the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. Bastard.

“I’m sorry, are you enjoying making me sweat in here?” you scoff, propping your hands on your waist and blowing a stray strand of hair off your forehead. The dress clings to your body, and you don’t miss the way Viktor gives you a slow once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make you wonder—if this is a maybe, what on earth will be a yes?

“That’s definitely a maybe,” Viktor mutters, quieter this time, before taking a sip of his tea. He sends you a warm smile, cocks his head, and just stares at you—until you grunt and turn on your heel, retreating to the dressing room.

You kick the pile of discarded dresses out. “Call your nice lady friend and tell her those maybes are a no,” you throw over your shoulder. From outside, you hear Viktor dare to laugh.

And you have no idea what kind of torture this is for him.

Watching you step in and out, the dresses getting progressively shorter, tighter—the necklines plunging deeper, the sleeves slipping further off your shoulders—until he has to cross his legs. The way your hair fluffs around your face, wild and untamed, the way your skin glistens faintly with sweat. The way you work so hard to pick the one, perfect dress.

His resolve has almost broken three times. But he works just as hard to play his cards well.

Still, he’s particularly sad to see one dress from the maybe/no pile return to the hanger—a light blue satin number that hugged you perfectly. He had to bite the inside of his cheek just to say, “Maybe.”

Until.

Until you find the one.

You have no idea where it’s been hiding (perhaps buried under the maybe pile all this time), but there it is. At first, nothing about it stands out—except for the colour. A deep, blood red.

And the moment you slip it on, your suspicion is confirmed—it’s an off-shoulder summer dress, cut so low in the back and at the front that underwear is completely out of the question.

So, you rid yourself of it—but soon become stuck, the dress undone at your back. After a few huffs and puffs, futilely attempting to zip it up with the help of a coat hanger, you surrender. "Viktor, I need a hand."

Silence, for a moment. Then, his head peeks through the curtain, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you clutching the material to your chest, neck craning to glance over your shoulder.

"Zip me up?"

Wordlessly, he hooks his cane over the side hangers and steps behind you. Both of you face the mirror, where you catch a glimpse of his flushed ears. His fingers dip low, brushing over the small of your back. Slowly—so slowly—he slides the zipper up, tracing his touch up your spine.

Your eyes meet in the reflection as he licks his lips, lifts a finger, and gestures for you to spin—a full 360. His gaze never wavers. It skims over your sides, your cleavage, the bare curve of your neck and shoulders. You could swear he’s holding his breath.

Until, mid-spin, he ends up behind you—and you feel that breath, warm against your neck. He leans in, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This one."

And before you can huff out, “Finally”, his hands find your waist and push you back against the mirror with a quiet thump. Palms slide down under the hem and you can feel your ass cheeks spread apart and hot mouth trailing all the way from your shoulder up to under your ear, where Viktor rasps, “Definitely, absolutely this one.”

You turn to face him, and his lips are on yours immediately. His hands, grazing over your hips as you spin, come back to rest on your bum, kneading it and squeezing your cheeks apart, when his finger slides under you knickers and he gasps into your mouth. “So wet, already?”

You chuckle into his face and shoot him an innocent glance. Calculating your next move, you decide, this is not how it’s going to go. All the indignity of over an hour spent sweating and panting while Viktor was sipping his tea and chatting to the clerk—it screams for payback. So, your hands slide down from his neck, down his chest, straight to his belt buckle to undo it with a quiet click.

His mouth hangs open, eyes glaze over your face, and he lets out a startled huff as your hand unceremoniously slides into his boxers and grips his cock. Seizing the moment while Viktor is flustered and disoriented in your grasp, you step behind him, resting your chin in the crook of his shoulder. You give your wrist a flick, and Viktor braces himself against the mirror, palms flat. He speaks your name softly—both a plea and a warning.

“And what do you think you’re, ah—” he muffles his own whimper against his arm, and you smile, seeing his reflection all whimpering, brows knitted together and lids fluttering shut at the lightest swipe of your thumb against the tip of his cock.

“Shh, we wouldn’t want your lady friend to hear, would we?" you coo into his ear. One of his hands shoots up to grab the back of your neck—a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation. Futile, as his head falls back onto your shoulder with another pump of your fist, slow and careful, fingers grazing over his balls. His entire body tenses and flexes under your touch, his left fist balled up against the mirror and you take in the view—throat swallowing hard, exposed, Addam’s apple bobbing as he gasps for quiet breaths, hips jutting up into your palm. Absolutely fucking breathtaking.

“Everything alright in there? Do you need assistance?” came a voice of the clerk and Viktor jumps in your hand, nearly whines, rolling his head on your shoulder to meet your eyes. But you don’t stop. You just slow down, drinking in all the glaring stares he gives you.

“Ah, we’re all good thank you!” you chirp from behind the curtain, a shit-eating grin spreads across your face. “Just a small zipper mishap, we will be right out.”

At which point Viktor’s cheeks are burning pretty pink, his mouth agape as his lips search for yours. He uses his last leverage and pushes by the back of your neck to slot your mouths together, tongue desperately fighting yours, lips closing, sucking, nipping at your flesh.

And as if you haven’t already won this one, you reach with your free hand to expose his stomach, flat palm sliding his shirt up, brushing over his nipples. Your other hand pumps faster and faster, and he shudders, a puppet in your grasp, gives you a grunt that he forcefully tries to swallow back down and comes without making a sound, staring deeply into your eyes, with his mouth hanging open against yours. He paints his belly with one thick splash of cum and before his eyes fall closed, you kiss him deeply. Gently, you whisper quiet praises, and Viktor hums—forgetting where you are and what you were doing before he fell into your trap.

You brush damp hair away from his forehead and indulge in one more glance into the mirror before you—him leaned back over you, stomach heaving with heavy breaths, the pulse in the vein on the side of his neck fast and irregular, cock still twitching in your hand as you guide him down from the high. Lips touching your cheek gently, fingers tangled into your hair. Breathtaking.

Wordlessly, you reach to your purse, resting on a stool next to you, and pull out a packet of tissues. You clean him up as best as you can, given the conditions, and he whimpers weakly, oversensitive under your touch. You kiss him through it before whispering into his ear, “So, you like this dress, do you?”

Viktor chuckles, abashed. “Yes, yes, it’s a very good dress.” He turns to face you and gives you a long, unhurried kiss. “And now that you’ve put me in my place, can we please just buy it and go? I’m not sure I’ll be able to look my lady friend in the eye.” He laughs sheepishly, then winces at the sight of his undone trousers and wrinkled shirt.

“Sure,” you smile, tucking him back into his pants and smoothing the fabric with your hands. “Though I do expect payback, am I wrong?” Viktor smirks knowingly. “Lásko, have you ever been wrong? I can’t recall.”

[my-horniness-is-okay]

<3 loved it

If your up for taking requests, can I request something with modern au viktor and reader where they’re fwb until viktor confesses to them, but reader doesn’t actually believe he likes her that way so they decide to take it slow?

'I need some time,' she said and proceeded to write it as a break from another angsty monstrosity she was trying to write. Anyway, Dear Anon, here is a little thing for you, I hope it meets expectations. Friends With Consequences

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! smut though not an unhinged kind, fwb dynamics into lovers, soft Viktor, AU university, AU modern era, emotional

word count: 2,8K

—

At first, it had been difficult. A drunken mistake, you told yourself. You also told yourself that it was never going to happen again, and you said the very same thing to your roommate. She nodded knowingly, giving you the kind of look that was the most annoying expression in the world—the look that screamed, “Yeah, sure,” in the most patronising way.

Viktor would walk you back to your room after the party, both of you too drunk to walk straight, so you supported each other’s weight, you waving his cane around dramatically. He clutched onto you, his hands cradling your waist from the side after his awkward stumbling and a deflective, theatrical, “Leave me, save yourself!”

You laughed and scrambled to help him up, whispering, “I leave no man behind.”

So there you were, clattering down the student dorm hallway, trying to make your way to your rooms, occasionally shushing each other, clasping hands over each other’s mouths and giggling. When you finally made it to your door, your laughter died into an awkward chuckle, then awkward silence, which you felt you had to fill. You talked about nothing. One nothing leading to another nothing, and Viktor just stared at your mouth, producing all those words.

Finally, he leaned in, and you felt your body stiffen. His face ghosted next to your cheek, his fingers wrapped around yours, still holding his cane. “I’m going to have to take this back,” he whispered into your ear, his warm breath laced with alcohol tickling your neck. You shuddered and nodded, gulping a strange lump down your throat, bracing for his touch to leave you. Instead, it travelled up your wrist, your forearm, to your neck, tracing your hairline with a scared, delicate brush of his fingers.

His eyes were now glued to yours, your foreheads touching as he searched for protest. And when there was none, his other hand cradled your waist, his nose resting against yours, and his lips landed where you had been secretly wanting them for the longest time.

He tasted of whisky and chewing gum, and you couldn’t believe that he managed to sneak a gum somewhere between your decision to leave the party and coming here. You wondered if he had spat it out secretly into one of the trash bins, abandoned it on the floor as you walked, or straight up swallowed it. It had made you self consious about the taste of your own mouth.

At first, he was tender, almost timid, testing the waters. When your eyes fluttered shut and your hands travelled to brush through his hair, he let out a content moan, muffled by your mouth, and deepened the kiss. His tongue slowly coaxed itself inside, your teeth clacking against each other clumsily. His hands became bolder, cradling your ass, and you found yourself pushed against the door, kissed with a hot need.

You were just about to turn the doorknob blindly behind your back when Viktor pulled away, by an inch. He chuckled awkwardly. “Um, so… Sorry, I—”

“No, no,” you said quickly, placing your palms flat on his chest, a gesture of acknowledgement. “It’s all good.” You were relieved to find out that his heart was thundering equally hard to yours.

“You should get some sleep,” he smiled and straightened, visibly sobered up by what had just transpired.

You nodded obediently and allowed him a kiss on the cheek—fleeting, gentle—before he turned away and limped down the corridor toward his room.

“Holy shit,” you whispered into the darkness of your tiny space on the other side of the door, having no idea that Viktor whispered the same exact thing to himself once shielded from the oppressive light of the fluorescent bulbs buzzing in the hallways.

The second mistake was orchestrated better than the first one. By means of not being stupidly drunk. You sat crouched over the display of notes and books at the foot of Viktor’s bed, while he splayed himself casually, chewing on a pencil, reading an incredibly interesting passage from a biology book, judging by his frown. His brace and cane rested by the bed stand; his legs spread out on either side of you.

“I think I’m repelling knowledge at this point,” you groaned, mindfully moving his leg to meet the other before flopping by his side, careful not to touch him. You held the book above you, only to drop it on your face in resignation.

“We don’t have to go through everything today, you know,” Viktor said calmly, taking the occasion to study you without you seeing. He rolled to the side, propping his head on his hand, and you could feel the shift in the mattress, the book still shielding your eyes.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Viktor. I want to retire already.” Your whiny voice was muffled by the tome, making Viktor chuckle, and you could feel the tremble next to you.

“Always just so dramatic,” he mused, plucking the book from your face gently. He looked at you from under hooded eyelids, his mouth curled into a gentle smile. “Do you want to take a break?” he asked in a husky voice, and suddenly your cheeks went warm.

“I—” you hesitated, feeling the blood rush to your head as his hand rested on your stomach, and you cursed yourself for not eating earlier, expecting it to growl at any given moment. “What do you have in mind?”

“Hmm, I can think of something,” he murmured, his hand snaking up your side, pulling you toward him to melt you against his mouth. “Unless this is something you don’t want,” he stopped himself, words tickling your lips, and you found yourself almost whining.

“No, I… I do, I just…” Oh god, where were all the words when you needed them? Yes, I want this. Yes, that would be nice. Yes, please fuck me, I’ve been wanting it forever.

“It doesn’t have to be… finite. We can make it casual,” he offered weakly, and you weren’t sure which one of you was more disappointed about it—or if you had just imagined it.

You blinked a few times, searching his face for any clue. Nothing. “Are you… proposing a friends-with-benefits setup?”

“I suppose… If… that is something you would be comfortable with,” he said carefully, as if weighing the options himself as well. This was… not his initial idea, but he could roll with it, so to say.

“Are you aware that friends with benefits implies friends with consequences?” you deadpanned, having already played all the possible scenarios in your head. You fall in love in the process and live happily ever after. Viktor finds someone else, and you die miserably. You fall out over something, and your friendship is ruined. Any, as possible as all others.

He chuckled, startled. “Yes, yes. I am aware. But I believe we are both adult enough, no?”

In truth, he preferred friends with anything over just friends. Friends with handholding would be nice. Friends with dating would be even nicer. Friends with arguments—those had already happened, nothing he couldn’t handle. Friends with benefits, well, that was appealing. Friends with consequences? Yes, if the said consequences were having sex with you exclusively and being able to squeeze you lovingly until your pretty head popped off. Yes, he could roll with it.

“Okay. Okay. Do you want to shake on it?” You pulled your hand out awkwardly, and Viktor snorted to cover up his grin.

“Or we could just…” He leaned in to kiss you. Your hand, momentarily frozen in the air, finally relaxed to slide under his shirt, and he hummed in approval. “Kiss on it.”

And so, you rolled with it. In fact, you rolled so much around Viktor’s bed that you couldn’t count it anymore. You also gave him an odd blowjob in the library and had never heard anyone make sounds as obscenely hot as he did. His fingers tangled into your hair, his face all flushed, mouth agape—those moments embedded themselves into your memory instead of essential biology knowledge.

The first couple of times were awkward, but he was just so... patient. What ruined your relationship as study buddies had bloomed into something you never thought yourself capable of doing. Casual sex. That felt nice. And no guilt attached. You wondered if other people knew about this option. You wondered if it wouldn’t be the answer to ending wars and hunger.

Until. Until.

Until you saw her sitting with him in the library. Her lingering hands on his forearm, as she laughed too loudly for the library regulations and he shushed her playfully. Her fingers brushing hair away from his forehead and his awkward chuckle. The way he scratched the nape of his neck in embarrassment when she praised him.

So of course, you defaulted to what any adult would do. You retreated. Not entirely, but you retreated the part of yourself that was feeling all the awful, unspeakable things. You locked it, sealed it, so your meetings transformed into something... mechanical.

You would jump him in the corridor and drag him into your room when your roommate was away. You would knock on his door and undress automatically, your movements practised by now. And Viktor would frown, and he would try to ask, but you shut him up with your tongue.

And he didn’t have it in him to say no. All the coldness you oozed would disperse upon him kissing you, licking your ear, and wrapping his fingers around your throat. It would dissolve, and what would take its place was the touch that lingered. Your wanting hands on his hips as he fucked you, sweaty and panting, his face close to yours when he whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

And you allowed yourself to forget in those fleeting moments. You let the ugly feeling from your heart rest and regenerate, so it was strong again whenever Viktor tried to cradle you to his chest in the aftermath.

He could feel the wall between you two rise back up as soon as you stepped out of the bed and pulled your trousers on, hopping on one leg to slide into them faster. Whenever his mouth opened to ask a question you feared so dearly, you shut him up with a dismissive peck on the lips. And when the kiss broke, he found himself following the trace of your disappearing face.

But you forgot one important thing. Viktor wasn’t stupid.

So you expected nothing new when you received a casual text message: See me after class? :)

You cursed yourself for walking so fast, your utterly undignified trot refusing to slow down. You steadied your breath and opened the door, only to be slammed against it. Viktor’s mouth was on yours, skipping all of your usual courtesies. He rid you of your sweater, along with all the layers beneath it, and made impressively quick work of your bra. You almost snorted at seeing him waiting for you almost completely naked, save for his boxers.

“What’s the rush?” you chuckled, watching his hands tremble at the button of your jeans.

“You’ll see,” he smiled, offering you a helping hand to step out from the pool of your clothes.

When you were both equally naked, he walked you to the bed, using your shoulders to support himself, and sat down, with your thighs straddling his lap.

You were already in the space of forgetting. Your fingers travelled into his hair, your face pressing against his, breathing him in as you crushed his mouth with a kiss. You could feel his hips buck beneath you, his cock pressing against you, and you moaned at the contact.

You barely registered the sound of a condom being unwrapped, his hands fumbling to put it on without breaking your mouths apart. Once he was ready, he teased your entrance and looked you deep in the eyes. He stared into your soul as his cock entered you, and he observed your mouth opening, your brows furrowing at the first languid roll of his hips.

His arms pulled you close, caging you in, as he asked, “Lásko, why are you so distant?”

And it was a killing blow. Because Viktor wasn’t stupid, and he knew this was the only moment when you were truly present with him. This was the only moment he could probe you for answers. He would fuck the answer out of you if there was no other way.

“W-what?” you stuttered, your breath heavy. You tried to move, but you could only move as much as he allowed. “What do you mean?”

“You avoid me. You wouldn’t talk to me. Is that all you want? Just to fuck me?” His voice was so expectant that your hips jerked on top of him.

“Is that not what we’ve agreed on?” you spat, unintentionally. You immediately relented, seeing his wounded eyes. “I thought you wanted this,” you said weakly. You thought you had learned an important lesson on how not to get hurt. But you forgot how to not hurt someone when saving yourself.

“No. I want more.” His voice was barely a whisper. Viktor had also learned an important lesson—that benefits with no friends were bad. That if the consequence was losing your friendship, he wasn’t able to roll with it. And that just friends was better than something so impersonal. Unless you weren’t friends, but more.

“Get out,” you scoffed, trying to snake your hands between you and push him away, but his grip on you tightened.

“No. Stay. Please.” He stilled his movements, his cock twitching inside you, making you wince at the absurdity of the situation. “I want more,” he repeated, this time with more confidence.

You took a sharp breath through your nose, his eyes not leaving yours. “More of what? I’ve seen you with other people, Viktor. It’s fine—”

“Where have you seen me? With whom?” He looked… offended. As if it were unthinkable to even touch anyone else. As if he wanted more as much as you were pushing it away from your mind.

“I… the library… do we have to talk about this now?” You pushed your weight down onto him, his mouth releasing a surprised gasp, but he wouldn’t fold.

It clicked. He was fast; he’d get it immediately. The girl in the library, her grabby hands, her loud mouth yapping at him. It was then you started to pull away. Ridiculous, so utterly stupid and unnecessary. He laughed, despite himself. “That got you acting so weird? I have no idea who that girl was. I shrugged her off as soon as I got the chance.”

“Viktor, you don’t have to be delicate with me. It’s fine. Now, can we please, just—”

“No.” A strange wail escaped his throat, and you immediately stopped fidgeting. “No. I miss you. I want more… of this. And of you. I want all of you, to myself.” He was stumbling over his words, his focus split between his heart and his cock. But they both wanted the same thing—you. You tried to find any sign of his confession being phony. And you found none.

Viktor rested his forehead against your chin, his hands cradling your waist tightly. When his words failed him, he began to plead with his body.

He kneaded the flesh of your hips lovingly and rubbed his face into the crook of your neck. “Do you really think I could touch anyone else like this?” he murmured, his voice so honest it sliced straight to your heart, and then down to your core.

“Do you think I could fake this?” He pulled you into a kiss, so longing, so affectionate that you thought your lips were going to melt.

“Do you not feel loved?” He finally looked at you, his expression serious and determined.

“Viktor,” you whispered—to him, to yourself. Into the air, you hung his name between the two of you as your hand palmed his face, and he leaned into it with gratitude.

“Say if you don’t want this. I will stop,” he spoke into your skin, and all you wanted to do was pull him close and keep him to yourself. To make up for all the times you ran away, and all the times you had fucked him with no emotion.

“I want this. I want you,” you kissed him to seal your words on his mouth. He took them and swallowed them eagerly.

“I want to do this right. I want it to be slow and good,” he said against your lips timidly. You nodded and then chuckled, “I told you—consequences.”

“Hmm, I can roll with that,” he hummed and kissed you again.