#i'm obsessed with their faces in this scene

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[roomwithanopenfire]

Stats Sunday

Happy March!! Thanks for the tag @nausikaaa! Unfortunately, my goal is to make this banner worse every month, so be prepared—we've only just begun.

Early post for me. I should be sleeping but I started making my graphs and then... well, here we are.

Here's my February Recap loll. Stats and graphs and musings incoming. (this post is so long but i promise there's a snippet in here)

Rest of post is under the cut. It is long. You've been warned.

I've posted two things last month! A valentine's day fic for Ebb/Fiona and Chapter 3 of the Way We Are. (Technically i posted 3 but this stranger things oneshot was posted on the 1st and written in January so it feels like January's accomplishment)

Total words written for February: 14405 (this beats Jan by 460 words!)

Days I met my writing goal (200 words): 20

Days I didn't write or edit anything: 4

Day I wrote the most: Feb 11th with 2249 (this beats last month's high score of 1717!)

Number of Fics worked on: 10 technically, but i have not been consistent with most of them. mainly worked on 3.

Daily Average: 514 words (but like last month i am highly inconsistent and my WC varies wildy depending on the day)

(I really like the little curve in the middle. also two the days that look like zero are actually 1 words, which is my placeholder if i spend all day editing)

And here's a pie chart to show my WC distribution across projects. Tbh a lot of these were fics that i've had in my fic ideas doc and all i did was make a google doc for them and word barf onto it my ideas, that's why there's so many small slices.

some slices are so small you don't even get to know my placeholder names. also i hope the title THTHIPWGI intrigues you, i'm always excited when i can title a fic right away and refer to it by a fun accyromn on my spreadsheet.

Other notable things from February:

I finished writing all of The Way We Are!! (kind of. i have one more scene to write. Monica's fault.)

I took over the @carry-on-sapphic-week event!! Check out the prompts if you haven't yet <3

I've received So Many beautiful valentines from the CO discord servers exchange. my mailbox and my heart has been full

The CO fandom was able to raise $500 for Fandom Trumps Hate!! (and I got to make a spreadsheet bc of this!!!) (also i won two auctions from this, one for each fandom i'm in)

My car battery died and I had to get a new one :/

I started a new journal!

I finally figured out how to spell February

my savage worlds campaign finally got our ship back and made it off this stupid planet that we've been on forever.

i've started watching Yellowjackets and I'm really enjoying it

I read so many CO AU fest fics and each one of them was so good. I think i've read all except one so far, and honestly this fest has been so fun i'm obsessed with you guys, you're are so talented.

SPEAKING of CO AU fest fics, @fiend-for-culture's fic, Everything In Between, is SO good, i've been thinking about it all week. you should read it (and leave a comment so i can read it bc i'm stalking the comments on this fic and there's not enough to sate me)

i have spring break in just one week!!

Okay, i promised you words, so here's a snip from my COBB.

“And I’m sorry,” Simon says. “For what?” “Driving you off yesterday.” “That wasn’t your fault. I was being terrible.” “Yeah,” Simon agrees. “But I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that.” I make a face. “I’m not having a heart-to-heart with you, Snow.” Simon groans. “Why do you have to do that?" "What" "Everytime I think we're making progress you say something nasty like that."

sorry this post is so long, thank you for reading if you made it this far

tags, hellos, and apologies:

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @artsyunderstudy @arthurkko

@beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog @best--dress @bookishbroadwayandblind @bookish-bogwitch

@the-beard-of-edward-teach @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cccloudsss @ciescen @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla @drowninginships @facewithoutheart @emeryhall @fiend-for-culture

@hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @theimpossibledemon @jyae23

@larkral @lovelettersto-mars @meanjeansjeans @m1ndwinder @monbons

@noblecorgi @orange-peony @prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple

@run-for-chamo-miles @rbkzz @shrekgogurt @simonscones @skee3000

@supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @toc-the-scrambled @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

added some new ppl to this tag list, feel free to share a wip you're working on—art, fic, etc. it does not have to stats like mine is loll. i use wipsdays as my soapbox.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I'M HERE I'M HERE *trips from stone pebble, face first* i'm here...

That's right, my dear fellows, your local theorist is back and freed from the basement! WA-HOO 🎉 What episode do we got today... *sees thumbnail+title* ...oh. huh.

Team...*inhales* care to tell me what. the. fuck is this? "SMG4:" IS BACK ON THE TITLE?! AND THIS DESCRIPTION?!

oh my god the Team hates me so BAD (/lh /jk) WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!

(the following is my live reaction:)

dude, i don't even know what to expect from this but it looks like i'm going to be incredibly annoying in this review 😅 (sorry in advance)

the way Mario goes to the front door of his home is exactly how i enter every room

Mario to Luigi: "Trying to get me back after locking you in the fridge for 5 days?" wha ...y'know what? that sounds about right

*war flashbacks to Ben's tweet*

*slowly turns to Team* what did you do? :) NOW'S NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR KNOWING SMILES, ONLY I SHOULD DO THAT. ANOTHER FNAF REF WITH THE VANNY MASK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

(hey nicc, buddy, how are you holding up?)

btw the Team could've gone with any mask but they went with this for 4 & 3 🤔

*points at 4* he wants that cookie SO BAD

UE UE UE THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME💙💜 they do be scheming

look how much they've changed 🥹 (and i will talk about them later)

AND their expressions? *dies*

*stares at Team suspiciously* wow the framing of this scene is quite interesting, huh

speak yourself, 4. you could barely handle horror games

OH I GET THE CLUE NOW @arco-doodles never could i have ever imagined a roles-reversed version of "the princess carry" 🗣️LET'S GOOOOOOO

SMG3: "You've used the same laugh in like all your videos." and ofc, you would know that. you were like his biggest fan (in the classic era), obsessed even smh /affectionate

HOLY SHIT ARE WE DOING FOUND FOOTAGE THROUGH 3'S POV/PHONE?!?! dude this is SICK

*deadpans at you through the screen* y'know...

I'm a sucker for this animation, dude

gonna bounce around the screen like the DVD logo, spooky style

well this feels familiar

and also the fact that Mario looked like that one meme with the realistic eyes (link) that Ben used as his pfp one time. what's crazy is that Ben hasn't seen this episode yet lmao

OH A BIT OF 2D PNG ANIMATION. also the eyeliner 👀

(hmm why do 4 & 3 get trapped in the weirdest places tf? /lh)

welp we found Luigi, we did it guys *cheesy thumbs-up* roll the credits

also it's giving:

i'm just going to drop this here, ok? ↓

4 lifting 3's chin :)

a TADC ref? in my SMG4 episode? it's more likely than you think

love the small details of not only Mario's post-it note of "Mario's Spaghetti, DO NOT EAT" but also his drawing of "stinky 4" just hung up on the fridge

it is still Mario....... NOT EVEN THE SPAGHETTI TRAP?

somehow 3 summoning ghosts fit with his internet graveyard/dark web role

*WHEEZE* the 2 dollar store item...

*danny phantom theme plays*

oh. uh, i'm intruding, aren't i? i should go...... ("he wants that cookie so bad" 2: electric boogaloo???)

i hired 3 & 4 to stare at you /silly /ref

love how 3 has his contacts with the regular names (Karen, Bob, etc.) meanwhile for 4, it's "StinkyMessGuy4". 4's different 💅

aw 4 🥹💙 you did a good thing in apologizing

3 NOOOOOOO

*IGBP war flashbacks*

oh, what's that? i was staring at space again? oh, no, I was trying to figure out HOW DID I MANIFEST 4'S CASTLE COLLAPSING IN AN IGBP PARALLEL OF AN EPISODE?! oh god, did the Team somehow see my WIPs of my door fanart? they're hacking into my tablet /silly

so let me get this straight: a supernatural entity with multiple eyes and red is causing chaos, starting from emerging out of the PC to eventually corrupting the castle and its ground, meanwhile, the friends believed that one of them is possessed by said entity and trying to save them in several ways. AND by the end, 3, having a character development moment, sympathizes with their "possessed" friend...

🧍 ...ok yeah I see how it is, Team. and while i was gone for the weekend? smh

eh close enough, welcome back IGBP

before i move on, it's crazy how the Team kept punching me in the gut for the "Eye of Horus/Ra" stem of the Goop!4 theory and now they jumped into the theory's "Eye of God" and Christianity thing with Mario's new form. "wow Mario really is 4's avatar" i can never catch a break 😔 /silly

here's some context *flashback noises*:

*le gasp* he apologized?! BIG MOMENT HERE FOLKS AAAAAA

...and it didn't work? oh shit. i'm still very proud of you 3 💙

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE SAYS SO MANY THINGS.

ok ok first off, the fact that 3 was serious about his apology. For once, doing the right thing only to be rejected. It feels very similar to the YT arc when 3 was doing his own thing with Snitch Productions. Here tho, 4 is affirming 3's actions, approving it. 3 really did good. if it was 4 back in the classic era, 4 might've had a harder time believing 3 bc of them being enemies, which was what eventually caused Snitch Productions to get destroyed and 3 clicking into his villain arc. BUT HERE, 4 believed and trusted 3's sincerity, especially since we all know 3 isn't the usual type to be emotionally vulnerable. 4 knows bc of what 3 said to him in IGBP

second, this might be a dark subject so fair warning about death. can we talk about how 4, time and time again, doesn't mind the idea of dying? I know we talked about the death guidelines of this universe and sure, it entirely depends on the context/intent behind it. But the fact he's ok with it regardless... Here, in IGBP, and other sillier episodes, it's almost like he accepts it as some sort of punishment, just enough bc by what seems like the end for him, he's doing the right thing or something he loved or from his own doing/fault. And that is what i worry bc in a serious arc, sooner or later, something like this is gonna happen again, and 4 might say he accepts this supposed fate bc he "deserved it" after everything he's done, even before IGBP. This got sad real quick, dude

Really, Team? All this in a silly spooky episode? damn

...let's go on and try to go back to silly mode, ok? ok

GET PRANKED, BRUH‼️🚨🚨‼️‼️

*shaking violently* Team, was it necessary for you to shove the fact that the window to the boarded-up room is right there, in my face? really?

and let's not prank Mario ever again :D

Congrats to Not_wizz for your art being featured in the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

[Ink here! Sorry for the late review, I literally passed out for the whole day from the conference and immediately had a rough production day yesterday. But I'm here now, coming in fashionably late 💅]

This. This was an INCREDIBLE episode, I don't even know how. The animation, the story, all of it was crazy /very pos. If you haven't noticed my insanity already, this feels too familiar to IGBP (says the co-CEO of the Goop!4 theory). at this point, the Team is teasing us. So Team, while I'm upset at the fact that I had to miss this, touché. congrats, you got me good.

Now, some of you might've noticed in the end credits that Cube is the producer instead of Kevin. For the jokes and giggles, Kev may not make it out alive from Creator Clash when his opponent's out for blood, so he's passing it over to Cube. Even some of the Team joked about it when it was first announced RIP Kev /jk.

But no seriously, Cube has been the producer for several episodes now and it's nice to see the Team growing and trusting each other with these roles. I'm sure Kev will be around but hey, things change. we just gotta adapt.

Ok, back to the episode itself. 3 & 4 have really shown how much they've grown over all these years. Obviously 4, who didn't do "childish" pranks before, now does bc of 3's influence and is really getting along with 3. But 3 went through some change from 4's influence as well, episodes before and "subtlety" now. 3 tried to save his friends in Puzzle Park (more worried of their safety than his own) and now he apologizes for that prank they did to Mario. Like he said, he swallowed his pride, and 4 believed in his word. another step of character development for these two, we love to see it.

and ofc, another episode of our goofball Mario, it's really in-character for him to into a biblically accurate angel just for a prank lol.

Anyway, this has been an incredible episode and I applaud to everyone who worked on this 👏 something's brewing and I'm so excited to see what comes next. Apparently, I owe my moot a can of rizz soda so chat, I'll see you all at the next one, and remember: numbers go first........

...so *slowly turns chair* Team, what's up with that title huh? you ain't slick, "SMG4: IT'S A ME..." is LITERALLY a few words away from "SMG4: IT'S GOTTA BE PERFECT". and HEY, what's up with the framing showing the DOOR, huh? NO i'm not delusional, ANSWER MEEEE /silly

[lovcrss]

pretty please could i request a peter maximoff fic? >__< i'm thinking one where peter gets arrested for some petty theft (again) and u can't help but find it attractive HAHA he looks like such a total loser but ur all heart eyes.. a total 'crush' by ethel cain moment

obsessed with this, LOVE PETERRRR

handcuffs | peter maximoff

The evening started off peacefully. You went to a coffee shop with friends after a long day and had much fun. The weather was perfect for walking and you used that opportunity to walk back to the X Mansion.

You’ve been working with the mutants for a long time, supporting their missions, helping with their physical health and being a major problem solver. Out of all of them, Peter Maximoff should be the most lucky to have you to get him out of trouble.

His little scandals and adventures always caused him a lot of trouble. He was wanted by many for his mischievous tricks. The gift of super speed was mostly used for petty things such as stealing, yet somehow he would always get away with it.

Charles always warned you about Peter, telling you to keep an eye on him and you tried hard, but Peter was spontaneous and restless. With him, you never knew what could happen.

Enjoying your walk back to the mansion relaxed, you receive a warning text. It was from Charles: “Peter is at it again. I sense trouble, please check it out.”

After you were finished reading the text, sirens started blasting somewhere behind you. Police cars passed and your gut told you that something was wrong. Running after the cars, you cursed Peter for being so recklesss.

When you arrive at the scene, your suspicions appear to be right. Police cars surrounded a gaming shop, where Peter got all his video games from. Peter’s silver hair pokes out the door, in between two officers who held his hands behind his back. You quickly jog closer to the mess he made, calling his name.

Peter looked up and saw you, after which he smiles ironically and shrugs his shoulders. He looked all flushed and ashamed. “What can I say?”

You shake your head disapprovingly, glaring bullets at him. “Officers, will it be possible for me to take it from here?”

“No, unfortunately. We have to report him back to the station.”

One of them put handcuffs on him and that’s when a weird feeling interrupted your train of thoughts. With his hands pinned behind his back, Peter throws his head back, closing his eyes defeatedly. His Adam’s apple popped though his neck, he sighs, his eyelashes falling to his rosy cheeks. Even in this state, Peter managed to look like a statue. “Oh thank you, officer”, he jokes.

Snapping out of your daze, you realize what’s happening when they start approaching the car. “W- uhm, Wait up-”

Peter turns around to look at you. Suddenly you appear more nervous than you were when you arrived, you had no idea what was happening but he noticed it.

“I’m right behind you!”, you shout after him.

“Don’t speed too much”, Peter calls sarcastically.

—————————

A cab took you to the police station. It was half empty, so it was easy to spot Peter right away. He still had handcuffs on, looking bored and embarrassed.

The officers who took him here were speaking to the receptionist, guarding Peter between each other. You enter, hurrying to check the situation. It seemed like they checked him in the sistem, but now you were there to take responsibility for him.

Once he saw you, Peter straightened his posture and focused, relieved to see that you came to his rescue once again. His lips squeezed together in an “oh well” manner.

You roll your eyes, quickly whispering in his ear: “I’ll deal with you later.”

His eyes darken, lips part and face turns red in a flash. For a second the arrest was worth hearing you whisper that sentence to him, making his blood rush through his veins.

He watched you speak to the police, loving how in charge and leading you looked. You held your head high and tone calm as you negotiated.

“Give us some time and we’ll let you go shortly”, they told you.

Meanwhile you notice how the handcuffs made Peter’s muscles more defined, his back wider and his behaviour more tamed than ever. It made you wonder why the hell you hadn’t reported him yourself earlier to watch him in this state. With his arms behind his back, wrists crossed and head thrown back, his silver strands of hair falling around his head he looked hotter than ever.

You were so stunned you didn’t notice when the officers tried talking to you. Peter looked at you to see what you were gonna respond, instead noticing the look in your eyes as you watched him. “Hello?”, he tilts his head.

Reality hit you once again, trying your best to focus. “You were saying?”

The conversation between you and the police resumes, while Peter notices the shift in your behaviour. He observes: you nervously play with your hands, red in the face and constantly glimpsing over at him, not even sure if you were listening to what was being said to you. This was confusing, but he liked the way you were looking at him.

Once you were finished, you were instructed to sit down on nearby chairs. Peter joined you while the officers weren’t looking, still handcuffed. He was tamed and still a little ashamed of the situation he found himself in, getting caught like this, more importantly having you witness it. On the other hand, you were more aware of his presence than usual since they caught him.

He was eager to tease you. “You know I’m the one arrested, not you, right?”

“What?”

He looked you up and down. “Well, I can sense you’re nervous. Did anything illegal tonight, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, you scoff, playing it off, trying to ignore him and crossing your arms.

He chuckled, standing up. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”, he shrugs.

His long sleeved shirt showed his muscles and you couldn’t help put notice them. You felt like you were being tested, like Peter knew exactly what he was doing. Subtly, you stand up and pull at his handcuffs. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”, he smirks.

Your glare riles him up even more, adrenaline entering his system. He realized you secretly loved watching him in those handcuffs.

Going back to the reception, you talk to the officers again. Negotiations were ahead, deciding if Peter was going to get punished slightly or not. “Bail is possible, since this is his first strike”, the blonde policeman explained.

Hearing this Peter went back to being embarrassed, staring at the ground and squirming in his place. This only made your excitement grow.

“Don’t worry, we will make sure this doesn’t happen anymore. Right, Peter?”

His gaze was still focused down. “Yes, I promise”, he mumbles slightly desperate, nodding.

After a few minutes, they finally announce: “You’re free to go, for now.”

You wait outside while they took his prints and take off his handcuffs, much to your disappointment. As he walks out, Peter barely looks at you. His shame and sudden lack of cockiness only amuses you. “Why so sad now, Quickie? You miss the cuffs?”, you tease.

He rolls his eyes. “Not funny. Matter of fact if anyone misses them, it’s you.”

You play dumb. “What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying I saw the way you looked at me.”

“You’re too cocky”, you scoff.

“Am I?”

It was already past midnight, you waited for a cab to take you to the mansion. He had his hands in his pockets, still feeling humbled. “Should’ve just ran from here.”

“I’m tired, let’s just put this behind us now.”

Your relaxednesses was suspicious to him, making him gain a little confidence again. “Still gonna deny it, huh?”

“Deny how I saved your ass once again?” , you raise you eyebrows at him.

He kicks pebbles, humbled once again.

“However, I think I’m gonna buy you those handcuffs for later”

[thenightblogcometh]

Why don't you listen to me?

[aceofwhump]

Heroes 1x12 "Godsend" Deleted Scene - Peter's Awakening

[polinsated]

[sskk-manifesto]

Out of everything the anime didn't include, this is probably the cut that saddens me the most

[d1sc01nf3rn0]

I'm seeing a lot of people with neurodivergency, specially under the autism spectrum say that "Laios is annoying, never shuts up, is insensitive, and I can't stand him"; and the irony is not lost on me lmao.

[tacogoats]

Unwell about the idea of Orin using Durge's face to keep the charade going of the Durge still being around, so Gortash doesn't get suspicious.

He does anyway because she didn't understand how real their relationship was - and she slips up. Often. He knew immediately when the Dark Urge became so, so very cold. Nothing like the warmth he has known for years now behind closed doors; because it isn't them.

She is good at fine details of the body; she gets every scar, every little blemish perfectly, but she can never truly imitate the person behind the Urge.

She couldn't have hoped to anyway, because she didn't know who they really were. Only Gortash could, because he is the first to ask.

It surprises her, and infuriates her, even! The mighty Dark Urge, debased into some lovesick puppy yearning after this little Lordling!

And the mistakes that follow are how Gortash learns the Dark Urge is gone.

[sb-essebi]

binged arcane in 2 days expecting some nice canon yaoi since my whole dash was jayvik so imagine my surprise when there's a canon enemies to lovers, class difference, size difference, sniper x hitter, red x blue yuri ship I didn't even know existed and I'm obsessed with them and honestly can't believe they kissed and fucked on screen and BOTH survived???

[deanncastiel]

The rest is blah blah.

OLIVER STARK as EVAN BUCKLEY 911 | 1.01 Pilot

[xue-dang]

kaimook crying in the car is such a beautiful scene. it's so quiet, so real, you can see her desperately trying to hold back - after all, she knew from the start that this was the only chance she'd get, that vie didn't actually want her, but to be so close and yet unable to reach what she so desperately wants, to know that she took advantage of that moment because it is all she will ever have... breathtaking

[wistfulwatcher]

YELLOWJACKETS | 2.06 “Qui”

[running-in-the-dark]

John Larroquette in Altered States (1980)

[viqwxcs]

chat i fear im reentering my lockwood and co phase