#m x f x m
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these-lovely-monsters · 4 months ago
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[NSFW | 18+]
Characters: m!ghost x f!reader
Content: semi-public sex (public but hidden), fingering
Imagine you have a ghost boyfriend who can turn himself invisible at will. Using this ability, he likes to tease you in public where no one can see what he's doing to you as you try your hardest not to react.
While you're at work, sitting at your desk in the open floor plan office space, he likes to hover between your legs with his hand shoved up your skirt. No one can see him as he finger fucks you right next to Sue from the billing department and Mike from sales.
With two fingers plunged into your pussy and his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, you take deep measured breaths and try not to make a sound. As he curls his fingers in just the right way, hitting your gspot with every thrust, you grip the edge of your desk while your legs tremble. At one point Sue looks over at you with concern so you give her a weak smile and a thumbs up.
When he leans in to suck on your neck, you finally explode, closing your eyes and biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep quiet. He continues to pump his fingers in and out until you eventually sag in your seat as the last of the aftershocks fade.
He gives your neck one last lick and you clap a hand over the spot, realizing he most definitely gave you a hickey there. You can feel him grinning stupidly as he drops a kiss on your lips and then he vanishes, leaving you soaking and satisfied at your desk while no one is the wiser.
Tip Jar :)
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sugarlywhispers · 11 months ago
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Hey! I was wondering if you could add me to the tag list (If you have one!) For Koi No Yokan? I just found it earlier and I love it!
Hi, hello!
Sure! I'll add you to the tag list <3
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limyted · 18 days ago
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“You Called My Liege?”
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Yandere King x Jester! GN Reader
Tw: Dubcon/non-con,, obsessive,, possessive,, controlling,, NSFW.,, ALL CHARACTERS 18+ PLEASE.
Words: 1.6k words
Yandere Prince! Who had first seen you when you had walked in with you dad, your family had been a family of Jesters for the Royal Family for centuries for now.
Yandere Prince! Who met you when his father has introduced you two to each other, explaining that you will be his Jester when he is the future King, with that a bond had started to grow between you too.
Yandere Prince! Who has always been blunt, stoic and short tempered, but when being around your cheeky and playful personality and eventually his stiff personality melts away and welcomes you, soon enough you two would play around places around the Palace whenever your dad was called upon by his father.
Yandere Prince! Who killed his father when he had suggested that he was just maybe too close with his Jester, that it was inappropriate to be friends with his Jester. Who did his father think he was telling him what to do with HIS Jester?
He dropped the blooded sword, as he kicked the former king's head away from him.
“Clean this up.” he lazily gazed into the dreary eyes of his father, his voice devoid of any guilt or remorse.
“Burn the body and fetch me my jester.” A small smile spreading across his features at the thought of you as he pushed past the stunned maids who hurriedly obeyed, they wouldn't want face the wrath of the kings short temper.
Yandere Prince! Who has you by his side the whole coronation, and he gets a thrill when you called him “My Liege” for the first time.
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Your skin warm from laying on grass, sun blazing on your skin, hands intertwined with the teenage future king, he was squeezing your hand as if trying to keep you from running away from him, but you decided not to pay it any mind.
You felt a slight tug, and you hummed softly.
“I don't wanna marry someone I don't know or even love,” He said, frustration and exasperation laced in his voice “but my father insisted it was a necessity for the economy of our kingdom.”
“If it's an economic boost you need, why not hold a royal jousting tournament?” You said softly chuckling at your own joke “Loser buys dinner... or a bride”
He looked at you deadpanned, you softly rolled your eyes.
“Who would you even marry?” You teased him softly “I don't know of anyone you fancy.”
“Are you sure?” He questioned, as he put his hand on your chin tilting it to face him. “But to answer your question, My fool, you would be my bride.”
You weren't really sure if the king was joking or not, so you had changed the subject instead.
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As you walked down the halls of the Jesters towers, the king had requested for you the usual spot, the throne room, a room you've grown very accustomed to.
The door to the room had no guards protecting it, so you had entered. There sat the king on his righteous throne, his hand resting in his chin and legs crossed, clearly in deep thought.
“You called My Liege?” You said as you bowed, dipping low and a playful smile on your face. The king who's eyes now locked with yours, had merely patted the arm rail of his throne, you obliged.
“Tell me..” he says as he snakes his arm loosely around your waist, shifting in his seat to be closer with you.
You hummed lightly, it wasn't weird that the king was being so … affectionate, he'd always wanted to be close with you.
“Do you recall when I told you that I would make you my bride?” He asked, with a tone unrecognisable to you.
“Oh your little quip?” You answered, focusing on his thumb rubbing your waist slowly, his hand slowly making its way down.
He let out a lifeless, breathy snicker, “I do not jest, that is your job.”
!!Nsfw!!
He lifts you up, placing you on his lap, rocking you back and forth, you can feel his hardened cock against your entrance.
“But if you're going to be my bride, I need everyone to know you’re mine.” He said as he digs his hands into your waist.
“I think it's better to marry someone who..” You pause, as you try to squirm off his lap, but he holds you down, “Is more equipped to be a monarch.”
“You'd make a perfect spouse for me” He says as kisses and bites your neck, as he rips your clothes off your body, the cold air hitting your skin, makes you shiver.
You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of him biting your neck. “I'm gonna have to stretch you out,” He says as pushes two fingers into and you gasp loudly, pushing yourself against his chest.
With every sweet sound you let out he can feel his cock and precum coating his undergarments, he pumps his fingers roughly.
“Wow, you must really want to be filled, your greedy hole is taking my fingers so well,” He says as he picks up the pace of his fingers “has someone ever pleasured you so well?”
You already feel your climax close, but he pulls his fingers out “You don't release unless I tell you too, My Fool.”
You whine at the emptiness that fills you now. “Stand.” Nothing but hunger in voice, afraid you obey, you had seen what he was capable of with his sword.
He took off his clothing as you, his long and hard cock, throbbing and the tip glistening with precum.
He had grabbed you and bent you over the very same arm rail you sat on, he slowly pushed himself into your hole, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a hard slap, his hands travelling from your ass to your hip, letting out a loud groan.
“Oh fuck, you feel just right, your hole wraps around me so perfectly” he said with a dreamy like voice.
“What about the maids and butlers, I don't wanna be seen in this case” you said trying to bite back the moans that are bubbling in your throat.
“If they even dare to look, I'll kill them, your body is only for my eyes,” He says, thrusting deeply into you at every word he says, unable to keep your moans anymore, you let out loud moans that fill the room and his groans as well.
With each deep thrust you feel your climax closing in, and you can tell he is too with his fastened pace and his balls slapping your skin.
“Please cum with me, please, please, please” he whines and pants as he trails his hands up your back and pulls you as you both release, you relax as his semen feels warm.
The King picks you up, his hard cock still twitching inside you, and puts you on the throne.
“I'm not finished, My Darling.”
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mx-monster · 9 months ago
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Thinking horny thoughts about Minotaurs so here’s a lazy Drabble
Cw: m/f, breeding kink
Male!minotaur god of agricultural x Female!human offering
your villages crops are failing. If it continues there won’t be enough to store for winter. In the face of a grueling winter and the real possibility of starvation, the villagers turn to the god of agriculture. They choose you as the offering. They lathering you in sweet smelling oils and dress you in the finest scarlet dress the village possesses. Gold necklaces are clasped around your neck, silver bracelets slipped onto your wrists. A crown of wildflowers rested on your brow.
You’re paraded through the village while neighbors, family, and friends gather on the streets chanting prayers and singing hymns to catch the God’s attention.
You’re left standing alone in a barren field One of the many your village had tried and failed to cultivate. The light of the full moon bathing you in its silvery light.
It doesn’t take long before He’s towering over you. He was magnificent.
“Do you know what this ritual entails?”
What do you say to a God? How do you say it? So you don’t answer. At least, not with words. Without looking away from the God before you, you lower yourself to the ground. Dress pooled around your waist, you spread your thighs and bear your sex to His hungry eyes.
He spends hours between your legs. Alternating between opening you up on his thick fingers and dragging his large, hot tongue along the seam of your cunt. He pushes you to the edge of ecstasy, only to reel you back in.
Your thighs are slick with the proof of your need. You feel wetness steadily leak from your cunt onto your ass. He slides his hips in between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock teasing your slick entrance.
“You’re ready. Know that if we do this I will spill inside. My seed will take and you will become pregnant. Do you understand?”
You nod. God, you understood. You wanted it more than you wanted anything else.
“Say it.”
“I want it, please. I-I need it. I need it so bad,” you sobbed, frustrated tears streaming down your cheeks. He had spent so long teasing you, you’d absolutely die without release. You nearly screamed in relief when He began slowly fucking into you. He was so thick. Even with all the preparation you felt every inch of Him splitting you open.
“Such a greedy cunt you have,” He grunted, “taking me so well. Begging for my cock so prettily. I’ll give it to you. Give you anything. Everything.”
It doesn’t take long before you felt an orgasm rip it’s way through you. Your vision blacks out as a wrecked scream tore from your throat. You felt his cock pulse, spilling hot seed into your starved cunt.
When you finally came back to your body you noticed that the once barren field was now filled with healthy vegetation.
“Your village will one day be the capital of a mighty and prosperous kingdom. Our children’s children will sit at it’s head and one day pass their crown to the heads of their children. But that is a conversation for later,” he pulled you close, enveloping you in a strong embrace, “now, we rest.”
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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 2 months ago
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— i’m in love with a dying man
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rating: mature. or explicit? i’m not sure. angsty study on grief in unconventional forms. (mild) smut purely for poetic reasons
word count: 4,1k
pairing: viktor x gn!reader
cw: terminal illness. several mentions of death. everyone is horny in a heartbroken way, so grab a napkin—but not for the reasons you think. and yes, you may dox me for making you even sadder after whatever happened in ep 6.
He licks a tear off your cheek, and it seeps in between the bumps on his tongue, all prickly salt running down your face in two glossy trails of sorrow. Stinging, when his calloused thumb swipes over a puffy eyelid, only to inevitably fall to your lip and tug, nudging your mouth agape. His desperate grip softens when you oblige and arch, letting him grunt over the slope of your throat; wheezier than you remember, raw, rhotic and ravenous. The hard shift of his lungs is palpable under your hand, ruckling heavily in his sternum. It almost breaks down to a cough when he cants his hips into you, slanting one last slow, weak slam. Spilling all his pent-up frustration deep inside you through that bitter orgasm, leaving a clumsy mess of stickiness to dry on your inner thigh. Stilling for you to hold him through that collapse, grateful for the shaky hand that you firmly fist into his hair. Not receding until at least a few kisses are strewn upon your shoulder. 
It’s always like this now. Viktor clings to you, and you cling to him, nails digging into handfuls of him hard enough to draw blood, each embrace so tight your ribs might just break if he doesn’t retreat in time. And god does he wish to let it linger, to drag it out until eternity tumbles in—even if his eternity is reduced to a question of mere months at best, even if he must crawl out of a casket to have your touch back. 
The night you almost lost him still has you in shambles. You remember it all too well—hell, it’s almost like that acute smell of hospitals and doom still coats his skin, more slimline than it ever was, its once ivory shade fading to chalk-like disaster. The utter horror of crushing verdicts, endless heaps of bloodied handkerchiefs and palms so cold that even the heat of your breath fails to make the feeling of him any less chilling. 
The dark humor of sneaky death: she’s right around the corner, the cruelest of all mistresses. Ready to snatch him away whenever your fingers ghost over his spine, stroking a languid count over each prominent vertebrae. And no matter how tight you curl up beside him, she will supplant you, and her proximity can’t be measured in miles, feet, or inches. Because death is a termite—she gnaws at his very heart. And blooms metastases everywhere you still have him. She’s inside him. She’s merged with him into one.
At first, you denied it. Knuckles drummed against the wall in a frustrated fistfight, painting that scabrous canvas bright with your frustration. White and crimson—the speckled pattern of your hysteria. You recall how bad it stung, and how shame creeped up your spine—frightening and so, so sticky. Throttling, when he tended to that self-inflicted disaster, bandaging your smashed hand in motions sick to the core with gentleness. 
And it felt so ugly. Like you’ve grown to loathe everything around you: the doctors, for their disgusting prognosis; life itself, for being hardly fair. And even Viktor. Especially him—for slowly slipping out of your pale-knuckled grip. Well, red-knuckled, more like. That angry stunt did cost you a decent injury. White and crimson, remember? 
Naturally, grief doesn’t always progress by the book. However, denial always comes first. It’s an axiom, an invariable component, and you’re sitting on Viktor’s hospital cot, hand in trembling hand, eyes snapped wide and ferocious. Wrapped up in fear while the silence rings in your ears. 
His doctor addresses the quandary. It doesn’t feel vicious—at least, not yet. Flimsy, more like. Deceptive, too. Like if you just blink it away hard enough everything will snap right in place, and you’ll find yourself at home again—where that aseptic smell of medication can’t reach either of you. 
Well, of course, there’s always a possibility of postponing the inevitable. Winning over a year or, even, two—if Viktor’s lucky enough, that is. But you both know that he’s lacking in that department.
And yet, you grab your little hope by the throat: to look into later, when your comprehension is intact again. Surely, it’s just not plausible: so what if Viktor’s cough pulls you out of sleep every night, so what if every shirt he owns has tiny blood stains on it? Yes, he spends more time in bed than he does at the lab. He’s simply tired. He needs the rest. Not in peace. 
The retraction doesn’t linger, though. It survives a few more blood tests and a lengthy, dreadful discussion of his calamity—most strikingly frightening when the doctor talks him through each option. And not a single one manages to appease you. To stop your fury from retching out and causing an ugly scene. 
So you fling the door to his room ajar and leap inside with a bitter scowl, teeth gritting hard enough to crumble into powder. Arms a tight crisscross over your chest, step wide and listless—punctuated with a muffled clack of heels. Viktor’s eyes follow your tremulous circles—a lazy, sheenless flick of pupils, each widened into a bleak void from the rancid dose of painkillers. He lays supine, with his hair ineptly slicked back, umber waves awry, loose and sweat-damp. He’s almost mellow, tongue barely a glide over his chapped bottom lip—a martyr-like stiffness, the carrion of a man. 
But you don’t look at him. You pace, and pace, and pace—in that same tiring route, all around his creaky cot. Viktor rasps something indistinct—a muffled plea that tickles the back of his throat, rupturing yet another coughing fit. You silently hand him the speckled handkerchief. 
He looks up, eyes the saddest shade of buckwheat honey—dark with remorse; seeking comfort. But you don’t have any to give. You stare past him, gnawing at your tongue hard enough to draw fleshy copper. Dodging the kiss he tries to press to your wrist—pulling yourself back and out of his loving grip, igniting a staring competition full of glassy eye-daggering. Blink slow and borderline drowsy. 
“Milackú,” he pleads. Pulls at the corner of his mouth to wipe the bloody evidence of his withering. 
Your tear catches in your bottom lashes. 
“Milackú,” he rasps again, kicking the blanket aside. Stepping one bare foot on the cool tiles and reaching for you: arms, legs, and heart—all yours for the taking. If only you consider crawling under his minty sheets again. 
You don’t. 
“Why?” It’s so meek you barely recognize it as your own. Taut throat tightens even more, and, suddenly, you’re choking on a gasp. “Why did you turn down the treatment?” 
“Please, if you could just—“ He husks, but you can’t hear him through the ringing in your ears; the room already smudged into wattery, astigmatic lumps, Viktor’s face but a bunch of fuzzy dots you’re struggling to make out. All missing jigsaws, blurry little fractions. 
“What did I ever do to you?” You yell, shielding your eyes. Turning away from the arm he extends, his weak fist clenching to grab thin air, then tumbling as he stares at his palm in sheer dubiety, upper lip trembling. 
He winces. Ceases you by the hand and tugs as hard as it gets—frail enough for you to easily nudge him away—but you don’t bother this time. Your knees ungainly bend into shaky arcs, drifting apart when he clasps around you and pulls until you finally land on the sheets next to him, your tears mingling with his cold sweat—a salty fusion of mutual suffering.
Then comes a sequence of guttural, squealing whines and you stay twined with him for a while. Lithe fingers run through your hair, spreading to untangle an occasional knotted strand—up, and down, and over your shoulder in a caress. His lips purse on your temple, sucking an indistinct kiss. His heartbeat trails off under your fingertips the second you rake them over his thin hospital gown, growing frenetic again when you tug at the fabric, demanding closure.
“Please. Please don’t do this to me.” You exhale your choked up entreaty into his neck and it pours over his skin in a rigid breath, aftertasting of stinging desperation. His hand seeks your face, taking a forcefully gentle hold of one puffy cheek, drinking in your unsightly, woebegone rebuke. Looking at you like a repentant devotee, his timid eyes meeting your fierce ones.
“This is not about you,” he wheezes, too stern for your liking. Presses his forehead against yours and holds you through yet another shudder—and there’s no avoiding his pleading stare. “I’m not trying to get away from you. I merely want to escape my conundrum.” 
“These aren’t mutually exclusive, Viktor,” you hiss, voice simmering with betrayal. 
“Unfortunately.” 
“Unfortunately?! Is that all you have for me right now?” 
“I’m afraid so.” 
He sighs like he means it. His words keep slipping away from him, drowned in coughs and ambiguous humms. You get it, though. Your semantics became sparse the minute Viktor almost died in your arms. 
You melt into one-another in a teary, sniffling twine—simply breathing, trading tense silences. His stately stance collapses into a lifeless hunch, straightening a bit only when your fingers billow over his shoulder-blades—chiseled like ones of a famished dog. There are plenty of dog-like things about him now—the pleas lodged in his glances, the newfound hunger for your touch. Especially for the way you’re holding him; every embrace like a loving headlock—and the pressure soothes him. 
“I’m tired of taking risks,” he finally whispers against your temple. “All these… labored efforts for mere fractions of peace. Decaying steadily. Constantly hurting. I’m spent.” 
“Exactly. Which is why you need the treatment.” 
His lashes shudder against your cheek in a prickly tickle. They keep fluttering when he recedes, shaking his head with a bitter frown.
“But its success is… highly improbable.” 
“Yes, but there’s still hope—“
“It’s running thin as we speak. I shouldn’t squander it on… the imminent.” 
Viktor’s irksome choice of words had you springing backwards in glossy-eyed delirium. Staring in disbelief as if he’d requested something inexorable: which he did, inherently so. 
He curses when tears slice your face again—tends to them with the softness of a man most contrite of his omission, shaky hands already catching holds of your waist, using your temporary pliancy to swiftly nudge you into his cot. Curling up close enough to have your weeps reverberate in his sternum. 
“I’m sorry,” he repents with a deep rasp. “Please, don’t cry.” 
He held you in reticence again: this time horizontally. Offered you every solace his body could provide: your fingers in his hair, fumbling mindlessly (he put them there himself). Tangled legs. Apologetic neck-kisses. His head heavy on your shoulder, its weight a welcome tranquility. And only when your last tear soaks his pillow does he commence with his explanation. 
“I don’t want to spend what little time I have left miserable,” he tells you, drawing a breath. “Yes, the treatment might win me a year—a year I would spend bedridden, nauseous, and weary. A travesty of life. An illusive salvation. I’ve had enough of those.” 
Your hand stills in his hair, nestled within unkempt strands. You’ve run out of tears, so this bitter truth is met with nothing but a piteous sigh—the only thing you can still master after crying your heart out into his skin. Now you can only stare at the ceiling, chewing on your cheek in cruel denial. 
He’s right. He always is. 
Viktor sees the shift in your face—knits his eyebrows together in tender pity, tucking himself firmly against your face. Wincing, when he feels the aching tension in your temple. 
“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Too much, even.” He’s sincere when he says that, and you can sense the gratitude in his voice—for even allowing him to utter this excruciating of a thing, for attempting to understand. 
You simply nod. Yes. It is a lot. But you want to hear everything he has to say. 
So Viktor continues.
“I would hate for your last memories of me to be tainted with despair and hospitals only for all the struggle to go to waste when I inevitably pass away. I have no desire to postpone this torture at the expense of growing indifferent towards everything that makes me feel alive.” 
“But what if we manage to cure you?!”
“That’s too much of a ‘what if’ to risk dying a grim death for. I want to die…content. I want to enjoy myself before I do. Please. Don’t take that choice away from me.”
His eyes brim at you with every ounce of guilt he possesses, big tears wallowing in his eyes like an earnest plea—tacit, weary, earnest. Yes, it’s not like you have a word in his terrific decision, but Viktor wants your blessing. It’s only right that he includes you. Even if he’s intending to refuse the treatment regardless. As absurd  a bid as that is. 
You clasp his face like it’s about to vanish. Like you won’t be able to make it out when he’s gone if you fail to remember it right this instant, your gaze frantically jumping from one feature to another, seeking to embroider the image into your very eyeballs. Roaming over the artifically-white hospital light hallowing every streak of his hair. Indulging in a bittersweet smile when you note how prettily it spills over the pillow. Lingering on the patterns in his ochre irises—almost fully swallowed by his void-like pupils. Observing how they match the insomniac, mauve shades under his bottom lashes. Tracing every convex little thing—two lovely moles, thick eyebrows, the pointy mouth. Everything you’ve grown to love so dearly. Everything his illness keeps taking away from you. 
You wince, cradling his cheeks, your thumbs dipping into the hollows of them gently. Urging him to scoot closer—eye to eye, lips on lips. Breath over shuddering breath. 
“Are you sure?” You mouth the question on his skin, barely even uttering it. Hot pressure meanders into your head like a prickly impulse. It’s timid like motion sickness—borderline nauseating, too—all murky splashes of trippy lights under your closed eyelids. And the unease is diluted only when he finally kisses you—an approbatory, guilt-ridden thing. 
He’s certain. And for that, he’s so, so sorry. 
You try not to think of it, focusing on the feeling. No tongue, no teeth: just sheer tremor and so much rawness. A soft, soothing exhalation straight into your mouth like the gentlest of placebos—and yet, it works for you, slaps your pulse out of its frantic antics, and the stiffness slowly leaves your limbs under his touch. 
When it’s over, he winces at you in that sleepy, adoring way of his. Attempts a wry, sad smile. The cold light besieges his head into an even clearer halo—a foreshadowing of what is to come, an inconspicuous little thing. But everything about him is conspicuous to you. Loving Viktor has made you wary, and you wanted to hold onto that attention to the detail before it eventually slips away alongside him. 
 “Are you sure?” You repeat, tightening the inadvertent chokehold around his neck. The grip weakens only when he pulls away to clumsily clear his throat. 
“Yes.” And you know he means it when his face turns just as solemn as when he confesses his love to you. 
“I’ve had a nice life with you,” he adds, hoarsely. “I want it to feel nice when my time comes, too—whenever that might be. Sooner than later, I presume.” 
The figurative knife in your stomach twists anticlockwise. 
“Will you stay with me?” He dares to inquire. Meek, shaky hope tingling in his throat. “For however many months I have left?” 
And when you look up at him with a hurt frown, he’s reminded not to ask you rhetorical questions. 
— 
A few days later, Viktor is discharged from the hospital and insists that you both go back to normal. Well, to the new, tainted definition of it—where one spoiled napkin less is considered an ephemeral improvement and grief is a fixed variable by your side. 
Your slow-paced, quiet life that keeps turning even more timid in a frail attempt to savor what’s left of it. Faux preservation, but he allows it—savors it just as earnestly as you do, and your weeks weave into a darling, familiar routine. With some minor, necessary changes, no less: rest comes before the lab now, all deadlines fashionably late to accommodate this newfound tempo. Mandatory hourly breaks. Weekly check-ups. Four days off for every three he spends bent over the parchment. But this time, he doesn’t protest. His body demands it, inconveniently so.
You don’t tell anyone about your horrific arrangement—not yet, at the very least. It’s all you can think about, and the words threaten to slide out every time you speak—but you’re forced to swallow them with a smile so lopsided that everyone around you can only suspect the worst. A mantra of countless ‘What’s wrong’s irritating your ears with pure sincerity. 
What is wrong with you, indeed? You’re a spectator to death—not just any death, but the one you dreaded most. And not only are you witnessing it in the making, but this decision was never forced—you handed Viktor the choice and accepted whatever he went with so obediently that it felt absurd, and it had your skin crawling every time someone vaguely mentioned anything even remotely related to his condition.
But they—whoever that refers to—could never get it. They wouldn’t know what it’s like: to be stripped of your selfishness for the sake of Viktor’s peace. Defying your needs. Forcing yourself to find relief in demise. You might’ve failed to intimidate her into allowing you to keep him, but you could still accompany him into her arms and make it glorious. Here it is. Your new, appalling reason. It’s all that you want now.
Or is it? 
There’s plenty of nobility in being his chaperone—welcoming him into bed every night, painfully aware that it can become his death one. Treating every new invention of his like a soon-to-be postmortem legacy. Mourning the living. Anticipating the inexplicable. Marking every shared kiss the last, just in case. 
But then it came—unabashed and sudden. That blurry line where mourning merges into something dubious, a confusing paradox that leaves you full of filthy carry-over somewhere within your gut. The scorch his lips engrave into the column of your neck. The way it ignites a swell you can almost convince yourself is actually tangible, running your fingers over it recursively like a tactile little prayer. The gaze he throws at you across the lab ever so sneakily—a figurative punch that feels surprisingly close to a kiss. And you never resist turning it into one. Escalating. Claiming. Indulging those ambiguous, yet-to-be-defined things and having them wash over the remnants of your decorum. 
You try to fight it when it first happens, but it doesn’t last. There’s no place for restraint in grief—not when it turns into a beautiful desire to be all over him, to take everything life has to offer before he runs out of it. And Viktor doesn’t judge you. He encourages it. He craves it, just as bad—if not more—than you do. How many more undoings can he claim before the final one absorbs him? You’ve already lost that count. So much for having your love bleed on every inch of his skin.
Tonight you let it bleed mouth to mouth—a sweaty, heartfelt thing that commemorates your hunger for him in a kiss so dizzying that he has to lean back with a silent, breathless plea for brief interlude—foggy eyes staring up at you so devotedly. Shuddering, when your arms wander over his chest to feel the rasp, pointed lips bruised full of spit-slick swell. He’s a beauty—exquisite, albeit worn-down, his lines and angles blurring together into one eager, contourless essence, and you cage him in a firm straddle—your bare thighs over his clothed ones—grinding in a whiny attempt to reach him through his pants. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, leaning back to let him breathe. He’s sprawled out beneath you, tortuous hands already busy with tugging his tie off—impatient, clumsily nervous. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you say at last, averting your gaze almost shyly. His fingers lurch to your hip, locking it in a gentle cradle, stilling above your backside in hesitation—asking for a laze caress, pushing your flimsy limits. As if forgetting that you never set those for him. Or, perhaps, he simply likes hearing your excited ‘yes’ every time. You can’t quite figure out which it is. 
He grabs a handful of you with reverence, and yet there’s something resilient about that grip—like he dreads that you might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on possessively enough, staring up at you with his head thrown back in a curious, admiring droop. Aiming to dispose of your shirt in a nimble pull. Plotting a sequence of kisses from neck to collarbone. 
You expect it when he rises on his elbows, then grips the bedframe to shift beneath you in a silly leap. Inelegant, but he couldn’t care less, releasing his hips from the hedge of your legs to make you slide up his crotch instead—a most welcome, brusque change that you adapt to in a squealing instant. Your moaning mouth agape under his grin. His hips thrusting through restraining fabric. Shaky. Erotic. With your arms tumbling astride his shoulders. 
“Don’t apologize,” Viktor insists in a lulling whisper, switching to a cautionary nip on your ear. “I’ve missed you, too,” he confesses somewhere into your hair, brushing through it with a tip of his nose—breathing you in through a tender whiff.  
Your words get lost in a deep fluster, rolling back into your throat and lingering there in a suffocating lump. They have you stiffening, heavy eyelids squeezing shut—a voluntarily blindfold to help you explore him through touch only. An invitation to feel you where he pleases. And, well—it just so happens that your whims align with his—a cohesive, welcome collateral. 
Viktor starts at the slope of your shoulder. Pulls the shirt down and traces that lovely curve—fingers first. Throws a brief, askance glance at your face to make sure that your eyes are closed, and, when met with the flutter of your lashes, gets back to his lovely tease. Tender, warm lips taste your skin with delicious, savoring sounds. Getting wetter when his tongue makes a fickle appearance—leaves a slick, capricious lick in the dip of your collarbone, fluffy hair tickling your face when he bends to tend to your chest, too—and you shiver as he sucks a plum love-stain that you’ll proudly wear under your shirts. 
“See,” he cooes. “Whatever gets into you must be contagious.” 
You give in to a half-lidded peek and find him begging for your assistance—a sweet request that you understand in half-nod. Arms up in the air and over your clouded head when he unleashes your skin from the thin garment—throws it on the floor for you to find later in the morning. 
“But it feels wrong.” You sigh. “Ever since we found out…”
“I’d rather you quit talking about that in bed, please,” Viktor reproaches, eyes heady with want. His fingers slide into your underwear, contemplating its fate—should he make it join your shirt or pull it to the side in hasty fashion? Either approach had him shivering at the thought. 
But the sudden sorrow stops the rush, rendering your urge for consolation. It wraps you around him all over again, legs locking in a tangle around his waist, drooping hands combing through his hair in a brusque, fervent tug. Seeking succor. Heart to heart and thumping an anxious march. 
“I’m afraid,” you admit, but it’s not a revelation. All shuddering shoulders under his idolatrous caress, and you pang with guilt at that, too—it’s you who should be fondling him this delicately, warm reassurance seeping into his ears—not yours. But Viktor wants to be your comfort. If anything, it’s the only thing on his mind.
“What are you afraid of, beloved?” A little shiver at the unforeign endearment—a rare occasion. His thick brows still drawn together in a concerned arc. They relax only when you rake your fingers down his body—counting ribs, toying anxiously. The hurry is gone, there’s only caution now: his enamored eyes, waiting for you to find your slippery words. 
“Of losing you before I get to show you how much I love you.” You whisper, suddenly tasting teary salt in your mouth. His thumb comes to the rescue, swiftly flicking the wet trails. So you chuckle at the affection in a silly stagger to bump sweaty foreheads together.
“Nonsense,” he insists. “You’re showing me right now.”
“Indeed.” You shrug. “But… Is this the right way?” 
And when he puts your palm over his eager heartbeat, you’re reminded not to ask him rhetorical questions. 
tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @nausicaaandhermouth @thehistoriangirl @vyshnevska
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emmyrosee · 3 months ago
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Imagine in modern au, dating toji and pretty much being baby megumi’s mom, and showing megumi to your friends and them fawning over him aahhhHHH
IM GONNA WEEP BRO
like they know megumi is a massive part of your life, and he’s such a good kid that they are so excited to see him, but nothing could prepare them for when Toji and Megumi come home from some dad-son time while your friends are all over, and without even thinking, no matter how much toji called his name, megumi just runs right to you and hugs you tight, closing his eyes happily.
They. Lose. It.
“Megumi! Hi!”
“Oh my gosh he’s so cute!”
“Look at his cheeks I can’t.”
You smile into Megumi’s hair and press a kiss to his head, “hello lovey boy,” you whisper. “How was the park?”
“Good,” he says softly. “Daddy ate m’ ice ceam.”
“Hey, I did not!” Toji scoffs. “You let me have a bite!”
“Daddy got big bites,” megumi says softly.
You snicker, “I know he does, baby boy.”
Your friends merely watch in adoration as you and the tiny boy interact, your arms still locked tight around each other and eyes closed happily. Toji sighs, “alright bud, let’s let the grown ups have some time-“
“Don’t be silly!” You chuckle, scooping megumi up and walking over to toji. You pucker your lips out for a kiss, which toji gives you happily. “He can stay with us, right everyone?”
“Of course!”
“We don’t bite.”
“Megumi, want to color a picture with me?”
The small boy eagerly nods and tries to worm out of your grip to meet your friend. You let him down while toji sighs, “are you sure?”
“Baby,” you laugh. “Go relax for a bit, watch the game, have a drink.” You smile up, “thank you for taking him out, but it’s my turn with him,” you giggle.
He shakes his head and tosses an arm around your shoulder, watching as megumi wanders over to your friend with a coloring book and crayons in his arms. Your friends coo at him, trying to beckon him to take a seat next to them, so excited to catch up with the small boy.
“I guess he’s a good kid.”
You smile, “he’s a great kid.” You look up and smile at him, “you did great.”
He grins back down at you, “thanks to you.”
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eggcromancer · 3 months ago
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Extra super duper late happy birthday to @crabsnpersimmons! Thank you for always being an inspiration! I think about your aus a lot!
Also, take this rejected birthday idea (It was too silly, too indulgent)
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Let's go be regulars at Shooting Star Salon! 💇
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cymk8 · 11 months ago
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hope that update finally lets me thank my healers PROPERLY
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b1mbodoll · 3 months ago
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HEAR ME OUTTTT
hybrid jake and sunghoon in heat PLEASE PLEASEEE ADD OMO PLEASE I BEG OF YOU
hearing u out and in return i offer hybrids jakehoon and their human owner…they Know you’re not a hybrid but when ur ovulating it’s like .. they go dumb and stupid and theyre just sex crazed himbos
you wake up to hoon sliding his cock between your thighs and jake mouthing at your tits because their brain has them thinking that their mate is in heat n needs their cocks :(
you’re Obviously turned on n reciprocate, sliding a hand between your legs to jerk sunghoon off and pulling jake in for a messy kiss that’s absolutely disgusting. poor puppy is drooling n sucking your tongue into his mouth, a pair of used panties wrapped tight around his fist as he humps his hand.
moans and whines tumble out of u and theyre quick to tear your clothes off, kitty sunghoon spitting on his cock before splitting your impossibly tight ass open, dog hybrid jake tossing your panties somewhere before clumsily humping your bare cunt, keening when he finally slips inside
they try to match each others thrusts n its not long before they cum, both cocks making you feel even tighter than usual and theyre obsessed with making you cum
they won’t stop either, no matter how long theyve been going at it; you’re their sweet little mate n your body is telling them that you Need to be fucked. they’ll fill you up with load after load after load of thick nd virile cum, getting so lost in your holes and your scent and how wet you are for them, kitty hoon’s claws sinking into your hips to keep you still as he fills you up again
puppy jake’s teeth find your throat and dig into the flesh, growls making his chest rumble as warmth spurts from his tip
but there’s something… off this time.
their cum is warm, and splashes within you and seems neverending and oh. it’s not cum
they’ve been breeding you for hours and the three of you are too dumb to realize until it’s already happening, that they’re both flooding your insides with piss
jake’s knot keeps his cum and piss locked in your cunt, the amount is overwhelming and it’s so fucking warm, but sunghoon doesn’t have a knot..
you don’t know what to focus on: how jake plugs your cunt and traps the mess inside of you? or how sunghoon’s mix of cum and piss leaks out, spilling onto the sheets and even dribbling onto your poor, stuffed cunt.
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these-lovely-monsters · 3 months ago
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Mating Season
[NSFW | 18+]
Characters: m!werewolf x f!reader
Content: hunting, primal behavior, predator/prey, sex, p in v, knotting, claiming bite, possessiveness, mild dubcon
#13 Mating/Hunting Season from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list
⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆
It’s werewolf mating season in your village and it’s a full moon which means it’s time for the hunt.
It’s almost midnight and all the eligible women have been gathered in the town square to prepare for the event. You stand amongst the group, everyone dressed in thin gowns and barefooted. A cool breeze causes you to shiver or maybe it’s just the anticipation of the activities to come.
The soft murmurs of the crowd are punctuated by howls in the distance. The werewolves are prowling through the darkness, eagerly awaiting their prey. Under the bright moonlight, the women around you glance at each other with mixtures of nervousness and excitement.
When the first midnight bell rings out over the square, everyone jumps, and the crowd surges forward. At first it’s a tangled mess of jostling limbs as everyone heads for the gates at the town’s entrance. But once you’re all through, the mass of bodies disperse in different directions and you take off sprinting into the darkness.
You’re racing through the trees, leaping over logs and boulders as you try to ignore the pain in your feet and the sharp scrapes and nicks from nearby branches. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breaths are coming heavy. Over the roar in your ears, you hear the snarls and howls of the werewolves stalking their prey, mixed with the shrieks and moans of those already caught.
Your legs are beginning to ache as you zig zag in no particular direction. So you slow down, wondering if you’ve gone too far. But then you hear a twig snap in the trees behind you. Your heart lurches into overdrive and you sprint forward again.
Moving as fast as you can, you recall the only instructions you were given. “Run.”
Your predator is close on your heels, his paws thudding softly on the ground as he nimbly trails you through the forest. Just as you turn to look over your shoulder, you catch sight of a giant, black werewolf leaping out from between the trees.
When he collides with your body, you let out a soft “Oof,” and you both go tumbling to the ground. He deftly rolls you so that he takes the brunt of the fall and when you come to a stop, he’s hovering over you, pinning your body to the cold hard ground.
Although his form is mostly humanoid, he’s covered from head to toe in thick, dark fur. His head is also the shape of a wolf’s and he has a long tail that swishes behind him. His massive claw-tipped hands are buried into the dirt on either side of your head and his heavy breaths wash across your skin.
Baring his teeth in your face, he starts to rock his hips against your naked pussy and you gasp. When he shifts his weight so his cock is dragging against your clit, you let out a soft moan and he snarls at the sound.
Faster than you can track, he swipes his claws at your gown, shredding the material and leaving faint red scratches where his nails nicked you. He stares down at you for a moment, his pupils dilating as he watches your exposed skin pebble in the cold air.
He bends his head to lick at your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples, causing your back to arch off the ground. Then he lowers himself down so his hot body is draped over yours. Before you can appreciate the warmth, he shifts his hips so that the tip of his cock is nudging at your already slick entrance and you groan in anticipation.
Opening your legs wider in invitation, you grip his fur and tug. With a growl, he sheaths himself fully inside you until his hips are flush with your thighs. You cry out at the sudden fullness and he pauses to let you adjust. When your body begins to relax, he pulls out and then thrusts back in. He does it again and again until he’s setting a brutal pace, fucking you hard into the dirt.
You quickly become lost in the exquisite sensations as your back scrapes against the rock-strewn ground while his massive cock stretches and fills you to the brim. He’s snarling and wild-eyed above you as he ruts into you in a wild frenzy, unable to control himself at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing him so tightly.
When your orgasm climbs higher and higher, almost at its peak, his movements become jerky as he meets you at the top. Right before you tip over the edge, you feel his massive knot pushing against your entrance, trying to stretch your pussy impossibly wide.
Before you can protest, he lowers his mouth to your shoulder and growls one guttural word against your skin.
“Mine.”
And then his teeth are sinking into your flesh in a vicious claiming bite at the same time his knot pushes past your tight walls and you scream.
You’re launched into another stratosphere as your eyes roll back in your head and your entire body seizes up. Hot cum spurts inside you, filling you up endlessly until it starts to seep out around his knot and drip down your thighs. His hips are still jerking erratically as he rides out his orgasm, dragging your own out with it, until eventually he’s completely spent.
───
You must have passed out at some point because when you awake, he’s carrying you in his arms as he trudges through the forest.
“Where are we going?” You ask groggily.
“To my den,” comes a deep gravelly voice above you. “I’m going to fuck you until my cum is a part of your essence and everyone knows that you belong to me.”
Tip Jar :)
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donutz · 6 months ago
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Sebastian Solace accidently meeting reader
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Sebastian was looking for items resulted in seeing you
— Sebastian actually doesn't do that, he just comes across them and uses it for sales
Warnings: Non human reader; Reader is 11'4, taller than Sebastian!!; Reader has a small tail, that's hidden under there clothes; Reader isn't naked, you have clothes on yay!!; You have 4 extra eyes from being mixed with a spider; Bad words, again
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Here's a body reference I drew, with a mouse!! ^_^ It's not that good but i tried my best ,^^ the tiny text says spider
“Ugh, these doors are so small”.. You thought.
You had to crouch through them, every. Single. Time. Why not bust out of a window? You looked at the wide glass to your left, thinking. Yeah why not.
Jumping through it, you realized that those were really weak windows. They might as well have been just the wall if they were really that weak! You would think that they were tempered at least.
You swim and swim, occasionally stopping to peer into the rooms. Sometimes you’d even knock on the windows to look at the squiddles. The other monsters never appeared, but those ones did.
After passing through many walls and windows, you look into another room. Seeing a tall humanoid like creature just sliding through.
Wait what.
You do a double take, not expecting another one to look like you.
Slightly swaying your legs, you move towards the glass. Putting your hands on it. You can only see the backside of him, looking him up and down. Just out of interest and curiosity.
He stops searching through the drawers and turns to his side, not seeing you. He moves to the next room, and you move right with him. It seems like he’s looking for items.
He looks at the window anddd.. Flinches back, with his palm facing you right in front of his chest. You hear his mumbled yell through the glass.
You wave.
As if you didn’t just startle him.
Smiling really wide, just no teeth showing, your small tail wagging.
You hear him curse. Uhm.. You move to the side and break the window with your fist,
“Oops” You say after putting your head through the hole.
Turning your head, you were going to say hello, but he was gone! You break through the window using your whole body, and fix it up with your… Powers!
“Come back”! You shout, crawling through the doors, each time you did, you saw him.
“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME”!!
That wasn’t a very good first meeting, but it happened again. You saw him again. And again. And again. You know the drill by now yeah?
By the fourth time, he wasn’t phased.
Sigh, “Are you trying to get on my nerves or something”?
“How? I just want to see you”!
His face scrunches in confusion, “What”.
“I said I just wanted to see you! You’re only making yourself more mad with that temper of yours”.
His face fell monotone, ignoring you as he slithered through the doors.
You followed right behind him, or next to him. He didn’t want you behind him just in case you decided to do something dirty.
You observe him everytime he searches through the drawers, checks under them, and looks through the lockers.
While he was searching through a drawer, you asked a question.
“Why do you search for the items ‘n stuff”?
He closes the drawer, standing up. He turns around to face you.
“Why are you still here with me”?
“You didn’t answer my question”.
“You didn’t answer mine”.
You giggle, “You’re funny, Sebastian”.
He looks surprised that you even know his name, clenching his fists he yells out—
“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME”?!
Now it’s your turn to look surprised. 
“From a certain shark”.
He scowls, ‘Dang it Eyefestation’.
“Anywho now that I answered yours, you answer mine”.
“You still didn’t answer my other question”.
“Then let’s take turns”.
You two stared at each other. Each stares having different meaning.
One with danger, confusion, and a small chance of fear.
The other with interest and sincerity.
One not being able to tell if it’s a mask.
The other being able to tell that One is scared.
“... Fine. It’s for my shop that I hold for the other players. Now what about you? Why are you still here with me”?
“Well it’s because I find you quite interesting really. I haven’t seen any other creature—”
‘Creature’?
“— Like you. You seem kinda on edge and I want to get to know you. Personally, I think you have a very kind heart”.
‘Kind heart? What the hell are you even saying’..
Your smile stays on your face, not once lingering. Your left hand gently grips your right wrist while both arms are behind your back. You sway side to side.
“Is your question answered Sebastian”?
“Don’t call me that”.
“Then what should I call you”?
“... Solace. Call me Solace”.
“Oh that’s a nice name. It kind of matches with your icy nature”.
Ughh. He verbally groaned. He slithered over to the next door, going through it, with you of course, following behind him.
Going through a few more doors, you ask—
“Can I see your shop”?
“Yeah fine, whatever. There’s no point since you probably don’t have any data anyways”.
“You use data as a currency? For what”?
“You ask—... Nevermind, yeah, I do. It’s so I could blackmail Urbanshade”.
He halfway turns his head to look at you, stopping.
“You’re not going to use that against me, a- are you”?
‘Shit’.
Your smile falters, realizing that he’s serious. And afraid.
“Of course not! I don’t even know what that is anyways”. You smile.
His mouth slightly opens, surprised.
“You- You’re not one of their experiments”?
“No! I was born like this! My parents were the experiments, but then I escaped”.
Sebastian didn’t say anything. How could you say that so— so happily?! A- And right in front of him too! You two just met h- how could—... How could you trust him so EASILY?!
After a bit of silence, you moved on.
“Anywayss!! I wanna see your shop! Show me”!
You walk ahead, leaving Sebastian standing there by himself baffled. Before he shakes his head and continues to move.
Eventually you two find his shop and you chill.
You see his documents on the table and question him, asking who’s documents are those. He tells you that they’re his.
“Can I buy em”?
“You got 1000 data”?
“I got my backstory”!
“... Sorry, data’s the only currency”.
“Oh man :(”
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I read all of this and this seems like a quick read :(
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whoreforsexymen · 1 month ago
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Hidden In Plain Sight | Viktor
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Pairings: Viktor x GN!Reader
Pronouns: None used for reader 🤍
Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!
Word Count: 2.5k
Tags: Blowjob, Unknown/Unintentional Voyeurism
Summary: You aren’t going to let a conversation stop you from relieving your lover of his frustrations.
Notes: Heyyy!! So. I’m working on requests. But this idea popped into my head when I was rewatching S1 to prepare for S2!!
This is based on S1 E5, the conversation Viktor has with Sky Young. I loved the idea that, since Viktor was so clearly uninterested in her, I should make the reason for the uninterest be you. 🥵🤍 Enjoy, my loves.
I SWEAR PT. 2 of The Cuck Fic is COMING SOON!!!!
Viktor threw his hands to his sides in a sharp, exaggerated motion, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back against the top of it as he tried to counteract the heaviness that had settled over him. The weight of his thoughts was more palpable than any tangible burden. His eyes drifted briefly to the clutter of papers scattered on the desk, but nothing held his focus for long.
Viktor’s mind drifted, momentarily pulling him away from the weight of his work. He wondered where you were, why you weren’t here with him now. In moments like this, when the pressure of it all became too much, he often needed you to hold him, to ground him in a way only you could. He could almost feel the comfort of your presence, the warmth of your touch, and it left a deep ache in him. It wasn’t just the physical relief he craved—it was the calm, the quiet reassurance that you always provided. Without you there, the room felt colder, emptier.
He exhaled sharply, a deep sigh that seemed to carry more than just exhaustion. The silence of the room hung in the air, thick and unyielding, until it was broken by a soft, almost hesitant voice from behind him.
“It’s beautiful.”
Viktor tensed up at the sudden intrusive voice.
The words felt distant, like they belonged to another world entirely, one that wasn’t caught in the weight of Viktor’s own spiraling thoughts. He didn’t need to look to know who it was—he could picture her there, standing a little too close, her voice trembling at the edges.
Sky. Always Sky.
Viktor didn’t turn. There was no need to. She had said enough with those few words. He inhaled again, slower this time, trying to keep his “irritation” from surfacing.
He sighed, the sound low and heavy.
“I can’t figure out why it’s not working…” Viktor muttered, his voice flat, as he rubbed his hands over his face, trying to maintain a simple composure. It wasn’t just “frustration”—there was something else lurking beneath it. Something quieter that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
“You will…” Sky’s voice was soft, almost soothing, as though she had said those words a thousand times before, to herself or to him, or perhaps to both. Viktor didn’t acknowledge the comment, his gaze still fixed on “nothing” as he looked down into his lap.
Sky shifted, an anxious movement that Viktor could feel even without seeing it. He imagined her wringing her hands, pushing her glasses up her nose, trying to find the right thing to say.
“Are you… headed home soon?” Her voice was tinged with hope, though it faltered as she continued, as if she already knew the answer.
“I thought we could walk together…”
Her words hung there, like a delicate thread pulling at the edge of his attention. But Viktor wasn’t interested. He didn’t hate her, but his mind was somewhere else—too far away to grasp her meaning.
He almost rolled his eyes, but he stifled it. Instead, he answered with an aloofness that was more instinct than deliberate cruelty.
“I’m, uh… probably going to sleep here tonight,” he said, his voice distant, distracted. The words were a gentle deflection, but the disinterest was clear. His fingers tapped absently on the desk, the motion more automatic than purposeful.
Sky’s voice softened, like a fading echo.
“Again? You know there’s always tomorrow, right?” The words stung, though she tried to mask it with a forced cheer. Viktor didn’t respond right away, but he knew what she was trying to do.
“Goodnight, Miss Young,” he said, his tone a little more clipped now, though he didn’t intend for it to sound harsh. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was still there, standing in the doorway, hoping for something—anything—that would make him look at her the way she looked at him. But he didn’t.
She hesitated for a moment, her presence lingering in the room like a shadow, before she stepped back. The silence stretched on in her absence, but Viktor remained frozen in place, his thoughts elsewhere, far away from the quiet, expectant gaze he knew she had been offering.
With a soft exhale, Sky left. And the room was quiet once more.
As the door clicked shut behind her, replacing the silence, Viktor let out a long breath, as though he had been holding every one of the previous ones far too long.
The room fell into an uneasy stillness, broken only by the mechanical hum of surrounding equipment, his own steady breathing, and the faint sound of wet, sloppy, suckling.
He looks down into his lap once more, where you were, your head bobbing between his legs like a buoy in water.
Viktor felt his stomach churn at the sight of it, a wave of pleasure pooling inside him. A low, involuntary groan slipped from his lips, the sound escaping after he’d spent too long stifling it.
It was deep, slow, and rich, a reflex of the sensation that tightened in his chest and spread through his body. His breath hitched slightly as the pleasure took control, a warmth spreading through him as he fought to stay composed in case anyone else were to pop into the room.
Your lips were wrapped tightly around his needy cock, maintaining a seal around it as you sucked and licked at it.
Viktor, truthfully, hadn’t been frustrated at all during his exchange with his assistant.
In fact, he had been struggling to conceal the pleasure slowly building within him—pleasure he had worked hard to keep hidden from Sky.
Earlier, you had offered to help ease his tensions, but Viktor had turned you down, citing the risk of someone walking by at any moment. You couldn’t deny he had a point—-which felt ironic, now. But you weren’t one to be easily deterred.
You couldn’t help but pity Viktor, watching him struggle with the frustration that clung to him like a second skin. The weight of his work seemed to suffocate him—trying to stabilize and control the intricate combinations of runes for the new version of Hextech he and Jayce had launched. The constant pressure, the endless tinkering and problem-solving, had a way of wearing him down.
No matter how often you reminded him how brilliant, how capable, how wonderful he was, it never seemed to quiet that relentless inner voice of doubt. He always carried that burden, that self-imposed expectation of perfection, even when he had already accomplished so much.
You knew there was only one real way to relieve his aggravation apart from the simpler comforts you’d provide.
And so, as Viktor bent over his work, eyes fixed on the sprawling notes before him, you slipped under his desk. He didn’t notice at first, too lost in his thoughts, as you moved quietly and carefully, prowling and crawling to him like a tiger stalking a gazelle.
What you didn’t realize, though, was that Sky had arrived and was now looming behind Viktor in the annoyingly often way she did. The chair Viktor occupied, wide and heavy, combined with you on your knees, faithfully hid you from her eyes. Leaving Sky unaware of your proximity, just as Viktor remained blissfully unaware of her presence.
Your hands were beyond eager as they worked to unbutton his clothes, the fabric of his pants slipping easily beneath your fingers. You could feel him tense, stiff as a statue as you pulled his cock out right after she had said her first sentence.
You knew Viktor was stunned, and it amused you to imagine the expression on his face as he tried to conceal what was happening outside of Sky’s awareness.
You only had to wait, feeling the tension in him shift, his body responding to your touch in ways he was trying hard to ignore, while also trying desperately hard to maintain an unsuspecting tone as he talked.
You had begun lapping, sucking, and hollowing out your cheeks to accommodate his size and length. You greedily slid down until his cock reached the back of your throat, almost laughing at the sound of the sharp inhale that garnered from him.
A part of you almost wished Sky could see you—see how easily you could reduce this man to a babbling mess, unlike anyone else. It wasn’t as if you and he were some secret, hidden item, but maybe if she knew, really knew, what you often did to him, and how he crumbled, she’d finally back off.
Maybe then, and only then, would she relinquish her pathetic attempts to encroach on what was yours. The thought of her realizing that she’d never compare, never measure up to the desire Viktor had for you, gave you a twisted air of satisfaction.
You heavily considered the idea.
Your amusement remained bold, even as Viktor’s attention finally drifted down to where you were hidden beneath his desk. It was almost as if he had sensed your devious train of thought.
He shot you a look, one that said more than words ever could. There was a trace of minor disappointment in the way his brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes as he tried to reconcile what was happening beneath the table with the ongoing conversation. But beneath it all, you saw the unmistakably familiar glimmer of pleasure, one he couldn’t quite suppress, despite his attempt to maintain control.
It was a mix of surprise and something deeper, something he didn’t always allow himself to acknowledge. His eyes lingered just long enough for you to sense it, the tension between his desire to focus on his work and the undeniable pull of the moment.
Several painstakingly long moments passed before Viktor finally managed to rid the room of the unwanted third presence. As Sky exited, Viktor released a deep, almost aching sigh—one that resonated with a relief so intense, it sent a shiver of arousal down your spine. The tension that had been weighing on him seemed to melt away in an instant, and the air between you thickened with the shift in his attitude.
Without hesitation, his hand slipped into your hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he gently tugged you closer. His gaze met yours, dark and heavy, as though he had been waiting for this moment, for the silence to settle between you both. The way he looked at you now was unmistakable, that mix of pleasure and need, the kind of intensity that made your pulse quicken.
“You really need to learn patience, my love.” He breathes, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek as he uses his grip on your hair to help guide your movement.
He hisses as he pushes your head down far enough to lightly rut his cock into the very back of your throat.
“What if she had seen you?” He asks, not really expecting a reply considering your current state.
You hum lightly as he slowly but surely flicks his hips up into your mouth, gagging around him as he did so. Viktor’s string of moans in response to your gags were filthy, needy, and whiny. You always drove him crazy, and this was no exception.
“Mmf…” he groans, biting his lip as a last ditch effort to keep himself from moaning too loud—-quickening the pace with which he began bobbing your head to meet his tiny thrusts.
“Mmm.. like that, my love.” He instructs softly—reassuring that the new way you had started licking up and down the length of his cock was simply divine.
Viktor was cursing himself inside due to the speed at which his orgasm was approaching. You’d barely been down there six minutes when he recognized the familiar tightening in his stomach nearing the edge of snapping.
“My love, I— I’m going to—“ he tried to warn you before his hot cum began spewing onto the inner walls of your mouth. It shot directly into the back of your throat, splattering off the tissues and trickling down your esophagus. The tepid, viscous substance slid further and further down as you swallowed around his twitching cock.
Viktor had cum with the unholiest of moans leaping out of his throat to invade your ears. It sent an unforgiving wave of arousal through you, singeing your skin and shocking your bones. He had gripped your face with an automatic force, pushing you down as far as you could possibly go, his eyes clamping shut as the thick strings of cum practically drowned you on land.
You gagged against the mindless way he jerked his hips into your mouth as he chased his orgasm seemingly halfway to your stomach.
Viktor practically whimpered at the sensation of you mercilessly swallowing around him—-now sensitive beyond measure from the sheer might of his climax. You had been correct—-he really needed that—arguably more than anything else.
When the pressure in your throat became unbearable, you squeezed his leg, silently pleading for him to loosen his grip.
Viktor’s eyes snapped open, the clarity that followed his release allowing him to regain his focus. He immediately uncoupled his hands from your head.
“I—I’m sorry, my love… I guess I got carried away,” he muttered, his voice tinged with sheepish regret.
You gasped as you pulled away, strands of saliva trailing down your chin in a delicate cascade—-like a miniature waterfall against your skin.
You hum softly in response to his apology, the hum dancing along the edge of a gentle laugh.
“Guess I did, too,” you murmur, wiping your mouth clean as you meet his gaze with silent affection.
Viktor gently cups your face once more, his thumb sweeping over the apple of your cheek as a soft smile tugs at his lips.
“Thank you…” he whispers, his voice rich with adoration, gratitude, and love for you. He tilts his head, aligning it with yours as his intent becomes clear.
He presses his lips to yours in a tender, silent show of his affection. Viktor shudders as a result of tasting himself all over your lips and tongue. The fact that you had eagerly swallowed every last drop sent a jolt through him, making his hair stand on end—-as it always did. He was downright obsessed with your greedy thirst for his cock and his seed.
The passion and tenderness with which Viktor kisses you never fail to set your heart racing, the gentle yet intense pressure of his lips stirring a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.
After several tender, passionate moments, your lips still lingering in a dance of their own, Viktor pulls away, his mind swirling with the renewed flames of longing sparked by what just transpired.
“My love… Why don’t we move… on top of the table?” he suggests, a playful gleam lighting up his eyes as he gazes into yours once more.
At his suggestion, you feel the butterflies in your stomach morph into something far more intense—fighter jets soaring through the cavern of your core. You meet his playful gaze with one of eager anticipation.
You nod, shifting to rise from your knees.
“I’ll lock the door,” you mutter softly.
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limyted · 22 days ago
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" OH THE THINGS YOU DO TO ME. "
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Yandere Best-friend x GN! Reader
Tw: obsessive yandere, isolating the reader, nsfw/suggestive, noncon, THE CHARACTERS ARE IN THEIR LAST YEAR OF HIGHSCHOOL MAKING THEM 18+ PLEASE.
Yandere Best-friend! Who you met in middle school when your teacher had made assigned seats and eventually he started talking to you, at first you were hesitant,, but the more you talked and slowly you didn't realise you guys become more than "class friends."
Yandere Best-friend! Who had made your other friends cut you off, threatening them to leave HIS best-friend alone because why do you need more than just him. He is more than enough for you. By Highschool it was just you and him<3.
Yandere Best-friend! Who shows up to every single of your events, whether it's sports, a club meeting whatever it is he was there.
Yandere Best-Friend!,, In highschool they had been a tension in your friendship, that EVERYONE had noticed but you guys or maybe just you.
Yandere Best-friend! Who started to guess you were touch starved, whenever you let him play with you hair, you'd whimper softly. (He abused your soft spot for him)
!!NSFW//SUGGESTIVE!!
You guys were cuddling how you guys had gotten to this point one moment you guys were studying and then your break had turned to having your legs intertwined his hand around your waist and your back against his chest and you sleeping.
Even though you guys do this quite often he still couldn't help getting so hard at your form he knew you were a heavy sleeper so he used that to his advantage. His hand on your waist, as he lightly presses himself against you, he'd imagined you so many times, the way you would moan his name, what sound you would make when he buried himself so deep into you, he bucked his hips into yours, lightly kissing your neck and back, as he took in your scent his thrust got rougher and more desperate.
His quiet moans turning into loud and breathy moans, whispering your name as if a prayer. His mind wandering how you would feel around all his girth. His hand around your waist tightening as a wet spot forming on his pants and his moans filled the room.
"Oh the things you do to me."
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cryptid-cave · 7 months ago
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Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.
Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?
Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me
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lay-z · 25 days ago
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Pairing: omega!John Price x alpha!military!fem!Reader
“Oh, I don’t doubt that one bit, Sergeant,” Price chuckles gruffly while he keeps his arms crossed in front of his broad chest to hold on to that tiny shred of control. “There probably isn’t a single omega that wouldn’t let you take them home, let’s be honest here.”
And then, the Captain is met by a sudden silence and the previously light-hearted atmosphere is replaced by something more… tense and serious.
He glances up at you from his office chair and his lower belly flutters as soon as he sees the look on your face. That intimidating look an alpha owns when they have set their mind on something – or someone.
Cocksure as ever, you reply in your usual dry tone that always leaves Price’s omega panting internally and yearn for a chance to proof himself to you,
“Does that include you too, sir?”
Hold up, I might be cooking up something.🍝👩🏼‍🍳
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mysterymachine9 · 2 months ago
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Viktor (Arcane) x gn!reader
Summary: Helping him relax 🫢
NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read ❌
This is my first time writing for Viktor, forgive me if it’s bad 😓 This is short, but when I get used to writing for him I’m sure there’ll be longer fics in the future.
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You finally convinced Viktor to take a break on working. Finally. After a good amount of suggestions and practically pleading. Now all you had to do was help him relax.
You were sat in his chair, him on your lap. Your hand worked up and down on Viktor’s cock. Slowing down whenever he got close. But you only did that once, considering how much he worked and how he deserved to feel the relief of cumming.
Viktor’s head was against your shoulder. Every whimper and whine that left his mouth got delivered straight to your ear. Your thumb rubbed against his tip, causing Viktor to gasp and move his hips into your touch; chasing after your thumb. He’s earned this. Constantly staying up late working and rarely ever taking breaks. All you wanted to do for the man was give him what he needed—to be there for him. And of course, you did just that. You soon went back to stroking him. With the amount of pre cum that leaked from his cock, it made it much easier. Every movement that your hand did made a squelch sound. Filling the silence of the room alongside the heavy breathing and moans.
It was clear that Viktor was close when he began whimpering more frequently. He looked down at your hand working his cock, but looked away, shut his eyes, and moved his head when you sped up. His jaw was open, yet he didn’t make a sound. That was until he finally came. Letting out a moan that was like music to your ears. Cum spurted up and got onto his clothes—staining that area white.
You kept your hand going, helping him ride out his orgasm. It soon went to a stop when overstimulation started to bloom.
“You relaxed now?” You asked.
“Mhm.” Viktor responded, tiredly.
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