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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years ago

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Cupcake

I am back on my pseudo Modern!AU, crack, fluff bullshit. Sorry not sorry.

Special thanks to @melkors-big-tits, @mai-sau, and @thatfeanorian for having had that amazing convo that has started it all.

Words: 1.5 k

Characters: Gothmog, Melkor x Mairon

Prompt: Cooking Baking together

“Can we leave?” Mairon called in his most unnervingly threatening voice; they were already late – according to his timetable – for the activity that his Master had personally chosen and signed up for. One would have believed that, after whining and begging for days, the mightiest of the Valar would have been eager enough to get ready in a timely manner.

“My darling flame,” Melkor purred, hastening down the stairs at a breakneck speed, and stopped abruptly at the sight of his one true love. “Mairon, we are going to a baking workshop, not a forge…you are aware of that?”

“There will be an oven,” his lieutenant replied petulantly, “and knowing Gothmog, maybe even tiny hammers and sharp knives. I do not see why my outfit is any more offensive or inappropriate than whatever it is you have donned for the occasion.”

His colour-shifting eyes swept over the frilly, useless, purely decorative apron draped over Melkor’s expansive – shockingly naked – chest repeatedly in a desperate try to comprehend what he was looking at.

Practical to a fault, Mairon himself had tied up his hair in a neat braid and vigorously cleaned his newest apron, made from sturdy, heat-resistant leather rather than flimsy fabric, to attend the latest venture of their cherished friend and occasional lover.

“I look amazing,” Melkor insisted and twirled towards the open door and his waiting partner whimsically. “It’s a class about making adorable cupcakes,” he said with a smirk, “so I highly doubt that you’ll need your whole bag of tools.”

“Precision,” Mairon replied with that controlled, understated confidence that made people around him either fear or desire him, “in all things, Master, never forget.”

Melkor made a face; if his love and devotion to Gothmog had been any less strong or binding, he would have called the whole endeavour off then and there for he had a terrible premonition that his vision of baking and Mairon’s would clash horribly.

“Ah, how good of you to come,” Gothmog exclaimed, throwing up his arms in welcome and almost taking down one of the wooden main beams that held up the ceiling of the spacious kitchen that was his realm and his pride.

He wrung his clawed paws nervously as he nodded at a few terrified creatures, cowering in one corner. “What did they expect when they signed up for the ‘Wonderfully Wacky Workshop in the Balrog Bakery’? This is my first time as an instructor, and I admit that I am slightly dismayed by this reaction! One woman has been crying hysterically since she’s first clapped eyes on me…”

Mairon could appreciate that it was, at the very least, surprising to see the gigantic fire demon prance around the kitchen, wearing a similarly ludicrous apron. Gothmog’s bulk, the plumes of smoke accompanying his deep, resonating voice, and his generally dreadful and frightening appearance could easily distress weak-minded beings, this much was clear to anyone who knew him.

“Oh, they’ll warm up in no time. Surely, they’re only nervous because it’s their first baking workshop,” Melkor cooed soothingly, radiating confidence and reassurance.

Correction, Mairon thought as a wave of warm affection surged within him, neither his Master nor Gothmog himself seemed to find anything weird or counterintuitive in the fact that the Lord of Balrogs loved to share his other great passion – besides maiming and killing Eldar – with as many people as possible.

“Places everyone,” Gothmog called with a last grateful look at his friends who had come to support him so openly. “I’ve left a copy of the recipe at every station. Please take a moment to familiarise yourself with the tools you’ll be using.”

While Mairon unrolled his collection of tiny knives and chisels, surmising that the tools he used for separating and removing skin and sinew would also come in handy in the shaping of buttercream, Melkor inspected the ingredients dutifully.

Indeed, he took it upon himself to taste each and every one of them separately, thus upsetting the carefully planned quantities and ratios they were supposed to respect in their creation.

“Leave the butter alone,” Mairon hissed warningly, but his intervention came too late, and he would have to adapt their recipe according to their self-inflicted penury if he didn’t want to fail, which was – as far as he was concerned – never a viable option.

It soon turned out that Gothmog was actually a very good instructor – calm, encouraging, and patient – which made his friends’ inaptitude to follow even the most basic of explanations all the more devastating.

While Mairon stubbornly tried to improve the process by using the torture instruments he had brought in very creative but ultimately deleterious ways, Melkor found himself constantly distracted from his part of the kitchen duties by the mouth-watering appeal of their nefarious creation.

Thus, Gothmog tutted under his breath as he approached their workbench shortly thereafter and found the mighty Vala sitting on the counter in a most unhygienic way, dragging his broad, sensual finger enthusiastically through the remnants of buttercream stuck to the sides of a large bowl, and his indefatigable Maia frowning at a lopsided cupcake.

“You might have chosen another colour,” the kind teacher said. “Black seems a bit on the nose, no?”

“We were going for a more iridescent hue,” Mairon explained with a sour expression, “but someone has unfortunately misunderstood the order to gently swirl the buttercream, thus mashing it into a brownish sludge.”

“Your cupcake also looks a little…burned,” Gothmog commented, trying hard to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his maw.

“Someone,” Melkor interjected, “thought he could optimise the baking time by adjusting and modifying the oven.”

“You are incorrigible.” Dissimulating his laughing fit by coughing vigorously – effectively burning the poor pastry even further – Gothmog moved on to the next station where a short, chubby woman stared dejectedly at the ugliest pink cupcake smothered under a thick layer of limp, runny buttercream anyone had ever seen.

“If you need help with that,” the imposing balrog prompted kindly, “you can ask The Dark Lord for help. I’ve been informed that he is very good at beating the cream into shape.”

“I’d rather die,” she squeaked, throwing anxious glances in the direction of her neighbours.

“That can be arranged as well,” the instructor quipped and continued his rounds.

“I know how we can save the whole thing,” Melkor exclaimed and dashed over to the next station, making the poor woman fall to her knees in her desperate attempt to climb into the low cupboards to find shelter there.

“Master!” Mairon called warningly.

With a triumphant giggle, Melkor snatched up the various pots of decorations and edible glitter that the woman had set aside for her own cupcake and ran back to their own monstrous baked good.

“I was going to use that.” The pathetic whimper coming from far below him did nothing to dissuade Melkor from what he believed to be an ingenious and brilliant masterplan.

“I’ve almost got it now,” Mairon said, frowning with concentration as he chiselled off the singed parts and started painstakingly layering and sculpting the pitch-black frosting.

Before his scrupulous endeavours could come to fruition though, an avalanche of pink sugar dust was dumped upon the cupcake.

“Ah, wonderful!” Melkor hooted gleefully. “That reminds me of the time I inadvertently summoned a snowstorm. Do you remember? Wasn’t that fun?”

With a dull clanging sound, Mairon dropped his tools onto the scrubbed metal surface of the worktop and gazed upon the other pensively.

Melkor looked positively elated with their misshapen, grotesque cupcake; he was beaming with satisfaction and pride and – even though Mairon had envisioned the result of their first baking lesson quite differently – it was incredibly hard to resist that infectious joyfulness once it was unleashed in its full, blinding, overwhelming power.

“It…It suits us well,” Mairon finally conceded; he could have salvaged the thing, he knew, and it would have been clinically, impersonally, dispassionately perfect.

Leaning his head against Melkor’s shoulder in a rare moment of public affection, Mairon had to admit that he much preferred the unexpected, wild, fascinating beauty his Master infused into every aspect of his orderly life. Hadn’t that been one of the reasons they had even come here? To try new things and have fun?

“My precious flame,” Melkor purred into his ear, a scent of burned sugar wafting over him, “do you want to share our first cupcake?”

“Let’s leave some for Gothmog,” Mairon sighed, “he’s done so well with this class and I’m sure he’d be delighted to taste something made by your hands.”

“You can share your half with Gothmog if you want to,” Melkor replied, grinning broadly.

Shrugging good-humouredly, for he knew that his Master didn’t like to share his treats, Mairon drew forth a particularly sharp and menacing blade and sliced cleanly through frosting and juicy cake in one skilled movement.

They’d definitely come back and – in time – they’d surely get the hang of it!

@fellowshipofthefics here goes another one for the sweet bingo.

Lots of love from me

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alg3a · 2 months ago

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muffins

viktor x f! reader

3.8k, MDNI, no use of (y/n)

description: Viktor had been so kind as to agree to help you out with your midterm prep, so you thought baking him muffins would be a great way to repay him. However, an accidental secret ingredient gets in the way of studying.

warnings: Age gap, roomie smut, more story than smut, p in v, sex pollen/serum (with pretty explicit consent), overall jolly good fun, no harm no foul, yippee!

a/n: inspired by @the-hidden-pages story, Human Testing because it’s one of the first viktor x reader fics i ever read and i STRONGLY recommend!

Any student should feel lucky to have the smartest men at the academy as their roommates. Being an undergraduate biochem student who had to work to pay her own tuition, going to lecture wasn’t always an option. That’s when you’d bake a tray of brownies or do some extra dishes and call in a favor from one of your roomies.

It happened all the time, which made you incredibly thankful to have one people-pleaser in the apartment. Jayce was always willing to put aside whatever he was doing and help you out on your Arcane Studies homework or your Bioengineering project. Last semester, finals week consisted of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on the rug of the living room, paper scattered all over the floor as you tried to decipher the grading scale of your Organic Chemistry class to see what the lowest grade on the test you could get was and still wind up with a passing grade (something Jayce had done plenty of times in his undergrad years).

Viktor, on the other hand, had gotten somewhat tired of your constant requests for him to backtrack and dive into knowledge he hadn’t tapped for years now. He was never particularly rude about it, but you were very perceptive. When you asked him to repeat an explanation once or twice, you noticed the growing exhaustion on his face that bordered frustration and you stopped asking for his help going forward. It wasn’t to his own fault, you could be pretty needy sometimes, so more often than not, you just asked Jayce.

Only, Jayce was out of town for a Hextech press conference this weekend, the weekend before you had your Arcane Studies midterm. In a heartbreaking display, he had apologized profusely for not being able to help, inches away from getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. You assured him none of that was necessary, and that you’d just stay up studying in the library or even reach out to your TA (who you’d never even spoken to before in class or outside of it, and who you were certain would be less helpful than Jayce).

To remedy your situation–even though you pinkie promised him you didn’t need him to–he took it upon himself to ask Viktor to help you cram study on Sunday night, the night before your midterm. While Jayce asked, you did your best to listen from your bedroom, the next room over. You heard some grumbling from Viktor and a muffled, yet compelling “She’s our roommate and she bakes us nice things” from Jayce.

Apparently that last bit must have been very rousing, because shortly after, Jayce was at your door telling you that Viktor agreed to a maximum of three hours of cramming that would begin no earlier than eight at night.

You worked for all of Saturday’s daylight hours, and then finalized your experimental serum for your Advanced Biochemistry project. For the biochem class, you’d been studying methods of enhancing senses for the first half of the quarter and your midterm project involved making a serum that could temporarily improve the performance of one human sense. Around three weeks ago, you and your classmates drew topics from a hat and your fingers emerged with “arousal” on a piece of paper. Needless to say, you were concerned. You thought the serum project would be fairly straightforward, and had already brainstormed ideas for vision enhancing serums or hearing aid serums, but arousal? You had to think out of the box for that one.

When you finished up your last touches to the serum, you were left with enough time at night to get ingredients to bake Viktor some muffins as a sign of your gratitude. You got enough stuff for twice as much as you would’ve made for Jayce and actually stuck to the recipe this time. Keeping Viktor happy was a very delicate ecosystem and there could be no tampering.

It wasn’t that he was a grump or even that he hated you, he was just too busy to want to help and too intelligent to want to backtrack. Once he had even looked at what you were studying and said, “I’d have to go too far back to help you.” That was inspiring.

You poured the contents of your tote bag on the counter.

On your better days, you and Viktor actually got along quite well. Those were the rare days when Viktor got more than three hours of sleep and ate a full meal before two pm. In his best conditions, the two of you were good friends.

The best days were when he and Jayce both come home early enough for you to make them a home cooked meal. Then you’d all curl up on the couch and watch a movie. The last time that happened, Jayce picked some superhero movie you’d never heard of and you and Viktor both fell asleep. You woke up the next morning asleep on Viktor’s chest with four blankets piled on top of you both. Jayce said he knew both of you ran cold, so he took the blankets from your beds. You and Viktor never talked about that night.

The exhaustion of your stressful Saturday had leaked into your studying Sunday, and in a tired stupor, you whisked together all the ingredients for the muffins and poured them haphazardly into the mold. They might not look pretty, but at least they’d taste good.

You pulled the freshly baked muffins from the oven and rested them on the stovetop. The sweet aroma of warm blueberry filled the apartment. It must have roused Viktor from whatever he was working on in his room, because he emerged a full quarter of an hour earlier than your agreed upon study time.

“Hey,” you said. “I made you some muffins as a thank you. They’re still hot, though, I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes.”

“That’s fine,” he said, setting himself at the kitchen table and sipping from a cup of coffee that had been there since Jayce was still in town. “Would you like to begin now?”

You grab all your study guides and homework assignments and your assortment of chicken scratch notes and slide them over to him on the table.

“Are your midterms cumulative?” He asked, finishing the remnants of his cold coffee.

“No,” you answered. Thank God. If you had to remember everything that was in the last midterm you’d be losing your mind right about now. “Everything past Arcane History will be on the test.”

“Mm. I see.”

He scans your notes for another five minutes.

“I’ll quiz you,” he decided, standing up to check on the temperature of the cooling muffins on the stovetop.

“Uh, okay.” You didn’t typically study by being quizzed, especially when you hardly went to lecture and didn’t even know most of the material. But you didn’t want to risk arguing with Viktor and have him decide to take his muffin to-go.

“Tell me why the Arcane can manifest in such unpredictable manners?”

“Because…” you started to think that maybe going to your TA wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Your TA was just a random graduate student. The roommate that was helping you study now was one of the inventors of Hextech, the researcher responsible for some of the greatest advancements in Piltover’s modern understanding of the Arcane. “...it reflects the intentions of the user.”

“Correct,” he says, affording you a rare Viktor smile. “Would you like a muffin?”

You had intended for the muffins to be entirely Viktor’s, but you hadn’t eaten all day and gods, they smelled good. Plus, it was like a reward for getting an answer right.

“Sure, thanks.”

You watch as Viktor plucks two muffins from the tin and comes back to seat himself at the table. He hands one to you and sorts through the papers you’ve scattered on the desk as he brings a small chunk to his mouth. You do the same.

Something tastes slightly off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s possible the ratio is off, and in your tired state you added too little vanilla extract or too much vegetable oil. Regardless, they’re not bad at all.

“Your notes are a little bit difficult to–” Viktor stops before finishing his sentence. He pulls out a sheet of paper from the pile and reads it, his eyes widening a bit as he does.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“These notes are from your biochem class,” he says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a few seconds over the piece of paper. “This is an interesting assignment…”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks growing hot. “Sorry, that’s not supposed to be in there.”

You reach out to take the paper from him, but he pulls it back as you do. He’s still reading it. You’d really like him to stop reading about your own aphrodisiac serum, but your embarrassment is a bit unwarranted. After all, you didn’t make the serum because you wanted it, you made it because it was a graded assignment. Nothing more. So what if you did eventually garner interest in the topic. So much interest, in fact, that you did extensive research into the properties your serum could afford and spent long hours in your lab experimenting with it. Shamefully, yes, you had tried some of it. Mainly to test its efficiency but also out of plain curiosity. You had determined that it was safe, most importantly, but you’d also learned that it tasted horrible. To counter that, you’d added some–

“Oh fuck!” You shout as you scoot your chair so far back so quickly that it topples over. You stumble over your bag on the floor as you sprint to the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” Viktor asks from his seated position.

“Don’t eat the muffin!” You exclaim as you run to the counter space next to the stove, your heart pounding.

You confirm your worst fear. The bottle of vanilla extract you picked up from the supermarket sits on the counter, the protective seal still intact. Your arousal serum, however, is halfway empty a few inches beside the extract.

You turn around slowly to face Viktor.

“It’s a bit late for that,” Viktor says, holding up the half of his muffin that remains. “Did something happen?”

You eye your own muffin on the table, half eaten as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you scrambled back toward the table where Viktor sat, the serum held tight by your hand. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

“No,” Viktor says, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

Come on, just get it out already. You have to tell him, it would be morally bankrupt not to.

“I accidentally drugged you.”

Okay, maybe not like that.

Viktor just stared at you, his expression unchanged. You sort of just wished he would yell at you so that you could get the encounter over with, but no such luck. He just sat, unphased, until he picked up the notes he was looking at earlier.

“With this?” He asks. Even his voice is still even. You knew that if the roles had been reversed you would be fracking out, absolutely bouncing off the walls.

“Yes, but don’t worry I’ve done lots of research on this serum,” you say, taking the notes from Viktor and looking them over. You read the list two or three times, scanning for any sort of antidote for ingestion. You saw none. “How could I have not included an antidote?” You mutter, mentally beating yourself up.

“It’s okay,” Viktor said and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at him from your notes. “It is safe, yes? It won’t kill us?”

“No, it won’t, but it’s a powerful aphrodisiac and I added half the serum to those muffins. If my math is right, you’re taking three times the recommended dosage.”

“But I only ate half the muffin,” Viktor counters. Again, you’re shocked by how unphased he is.

“Okay, then one and a half times the dosage,” you shrug off his comment as you look for anything in your notes that might reveal a way to undo this mess.

“I assume this means you no longer wish to study?” Viktor says.

“How are you so calm about this?” You finally burst out, slamming the paper down on the table to look at him.

Big mistake.

Once you see him, you become lightheaded and your knees buckle beneath you. You have to sit down to stop yourself from falling over.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks.

“I-I’m fine,” you shake your head in an attempt to get some blood flowing to your brain. No luck.

“Since you’re obviously worked up about this, why don’t you tell me how it works and then we can go from there.”

“It’s a fast acting stimulant,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “The chemistry is irrelevant since I have no goddamn cure for it, but it works the same as any other aphrodisiac. It makes you susceptible to arousal and heightens it by three times at a normal dosage, and in our case… nearly five times.”

“Intriguing,” he says, eyeing the muffin that lays neglected on the table. “Such a strange class project. Aren’t there moral quandaries to be had for such a substance?”

“Yes of course there are, which is why I made it so that it only takes effect if there’s already a degree of attraction in place–”

You shouldn’t have said anything. Especially not when you’re so clearly affected by it in the presence of Viktor. Way to sell yourself out.

“So you’re saying…”

You groan out in frustration, but once you look at Viktor you’re reminded of why you had your face buried in your hands. Somehow every feature of his seems five times more beautiful than you normally regarded them. His perfectly angular nose, his narrowed amber eyes, his messy hair which fell in ways you could never recreate on paper…

“I have a feeling you know exactly what I’m saying.” You squeezed your eyes shut. If you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t torture you.

Or so you thought.

A tantalizing graze of his hand on yours shot shivers down your spine. You pulled away so fast that a few of the papers on the desk shifted from the shear force of the wind.

“Don’t do that,” you seethed, sucked your teeth as you pressed your eyes shut so hard that you saw stars.

“Because…it affects you?” His voice was raspy and slow, or maybe that’s just what the serum was making you hear. Every bit of what he was doing seemed five times as attractive as it would normally be.

You’d done such a good job at hiding your feelings for Viktor for almost a year now. Being roommates with someone you found incredibly attractive was no easy task. And now all of your efforts were thrown out the window because of a stupid baking mishap.

“You’re being cruel,” you furrow your eyebrows as you speak, your voice coming out whinier than you would’ve liked.

“I’m sorry,” he stifles a laugh. “Would you open your eyes?”

“I can’t,” you groan, shoving your hands against your face again. “It’s best if I just go to my room and wait it out. Thank you for trying to study with me but I’m just gonna have to accept a shitty grade tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and pulling them down from your face so that you had to look at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve taken biochemistry, and I certainly haven’t studied aphrodisiacs, but the effects should go away after the serum is put to use, correct?”

You thought back to your experimentation phase. All the nights you spent alone in your lab trying out the efficacy of the serum resulted in the effects dissipating once climax was reached. It had certainly been the least orthodox experimentation phase you’d ever undergone.

“Yes, that’s correct,” you say reluctantly. It takes every ounce of strength you have not to let your eyes explore Viktor’s face, then his long, narrow neck protruding his sweater, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a deep breath, then the sharp clavicle poking from–

Get yourself together.

“If you’re willing to retake the class–a class you should easily pass, given your access to the two most prevalent scientists in the field–then by all means, go to your room.” Viktor pulls his hands away from you, then picks up the muffin, peeling off the paper from the bottom. He picks off a piece and drops it onto his tongue.

“What are you doing? You’re just going to make it worse!”

He smirks at you, then sets the muffin back down. “It’s a very good muffin. You’re an excellent baker.”

Fuck.

“You’re playing with me,” you shake your head in disbelief.

“No, dearest, I am not playing with you,” he says, standing up from his chair, then moving toward you tantalizingly slow. He takes a seat on the table in front of you, then crosses his hands on his lap. “You’re smart enough to recognize the alternative I am offering to you.”

Your heart stops. You look at his half eaten muffin, although more than half is gone now with the addition of that last bite.

“You…” The idea is almost impossible for you to grasp, let alone put into words. “You want to expedite the process?”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Viktor laughs. He reaches for a strand of your distressed hair and pushes it behind your ear.

“But you’re not even attracted to me!”

“What makes you think that?” Viktor says, retracting his hand, only to place it over yours on the desk.

“Because if you were, you’d be much more affected right now. I mean, look at me!” You gesture to yourself with your free hand. “I’m a mess! I’m on the brink of breaking out in a sweat and my hands are clammy and you’re just sitting there!”

Viktor laughs to himself as if he’s in on some kind of inside joke that you know nothing about.

“I’ve had lots of practice in concealing my excitement around you,” he finally says, slowly, seductively, the words dripping from his chin as his cold eyes bore into you.

“What?”

You know what he said. In fact, you understand it perfectly, but you can’t be sure it actually came from his mouth because it seems so perfectly unreal. So dream-like, so idealistic, so fantastical.

“You’ve done a good enough job at hiding your attraction, too,” Viktor says. “I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for tonight’s incident. Which is exactly why I’ve felt the need to hide my own.”

“You’ve liked me?”

You still can’t wrap your head around the idea.

“I’ve admired you,” he smiles, rubbing circles on the back of your hand, reminding you just how potent your little sex serum really is.

In fact, it’s so powerful that you hardly have to put any thought into leaping up from your chair and pushing your lips against his. Before you can third guess his affection, his hands are interlaced with your hair, pushing you deeper into his lips as his tongue begs to be let into your needy mouth.

Now it was clear to see how much the serum had actually affected him. In mere seconds, his hands grabbed at your thighs and pulled you up onto the table to straddle him with strength you didn’t even know he possessed. His breathy little moans sent you further into madness and you yanked his sweater off of his head, forcing your mouth off of his for just a few seconds, but once that sweater was off, your lips clung together like magnets.

Deft fingers unbuttoned your long sleeve shirt and he pulled it off your arms so quickly that you worried for a second that he might have ripped it. But you didn't care. You couldn’t possibly be concerned with a silly shirt when Viktor was beneath you on the kitchen table like a meal.

The serum didn’t exactly allow either of your minds to comprehend much foreplay. You fiddled with Viktor’s belt and he pushed your skirt up to your waist. Once both of you were exposed, he didn’t waste any time positioning you above his cock.

“So wet for me,” Viktor whined against your bare chest. “Is that the serum’s doing or is it mine?”

“Yours,” you whimper as Viktor slides his tip beneath your folds. “If it were anyone else in the room with me when I took the serum, I’d be unaffected.”

“I’m flattered,” he smiles cruelly as he thrusts up into you.

“Oh fuck,” you whine as your rest your heavy head on Viktor’s shoulder.

He brings his hands to your waist and guides you up and down as his hips meet your core in long, languid thrusts. The serum sets every single nerve on fire, making it seem as if each of his thrusts has the impact of twenty.

You moan muffled strangulations of his name into his neck, which only urges him to persist with his cruel thrusts. The sound of your cunt being abused fills the kitchen and you’re wildly thankful that Jayce is out of town.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Viktor pants. “You have no idea.”

You really did have no idea. He hid it so well. You silently thanked whatever force had caused you to accidentally throw the serum into the muffin mix.

“So have I,” you whined against his skin. “Fuck…don’t stop…”

Each thrust is punctuated by the creaks of the sturdy kitchen table below you. His motions become quicker, shakier, and more intense and you can tell he’s reaching the end along with you. Your legs begin to shake and you feel that familiar tickling sensation in your core that the serum does a beautiful job at emulating.

“Viktor, I’m close, I’m so fucking close,” you moan as you lift your head from the crook of his neck. You bring your lips to his and he delivers his final thrusts. As he fills you, your moans echo on each other’s lips, a feeling you never thought you’d experience with your own brilliant roommate.

Your breathing steadies and Viktor wraps his arms around you, bringing you close to him as he tries to collect himself as well.

“You…” Viktor pants, “are forbidden from using that kitchen ever again.”

You laugh as you bring yourself off of him, pressing a kiss to his lips as you collect yourself. “That sounds fair to me.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane smut #viktor league of legends #viktor nation #fem reader

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