#mage x reader

[bloodyboi]

Go. Check book out

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

[yan-randomfandom]

yandere viktor with an innocent and naive reader but with magical abilities, where the reader knows how to use simple magic like conjuring plants or controlling water... ((the reader only knows the basics of magic, since no one taught it and this magic would be the only one so far who knows how to do it, and the reader was a little scared of being in a rush or being studied like a lab rat because she has magic, but she confided her secret to Viktor...)) Why do you do that?

Y!Viktor x GN!Mage!Reader

a/n: posting this before act 2 omg, i think i need a rewatch — btw this one only has very light yandere undertones,, ..erm

🫧 ;

"Psst. Hey, want to know a secret?"

Viktor blinked. His eyes followed the moving reflection on the iridescent river. Your figure was mirrored in the water, an unreadable expression on your face.

... He looked up, alarmed. Were you talking to him? Viktor didn't even know you.

You met his amber eyes. For whatever reason, on the edge of the cliff just above the water, you folded your legs against your chest and buried half your face in your arms.

"Well?" you pushed, voice muffled.

His mouth opened, then closed. Viktor nodded wordlessly instead.

" ... Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young boy nodded again.

He watched as you stood up and jumped steadily into the river, splashing him and his mechanical boat. A low, frustrated groan escaped him as water seeped into his clothes.

"Oh, sorry," you said as he tried to wipe the water from his face. "Let me get that for you."

Suddenly, Viktor felt his weight gradually become less unpleasant—almost refreshing, even, as if the water slid across and away from his skin and clothes.

That's when he saw it.

A small blob of water, floating in the air. It moved carefully like it was fragile.

Then came another, and another. Small specks came together until it formed one single bubble.

Abruptly, it dropped in the river. Like nothing ever happened. Viktor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cool, right?" you grinned. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his jaw gaping. One of your hands was lifted, fingers poised in a manner of delicacy.

"You," Viktor finally spoke, stammering, his breathing ragged. "You did that? Was that... magic?"

You chuckled, settling yourself beside him. He turned to you, scooting over to make room, and met your steady gaze. “I think so. But I was serious when I said never, ever tell anyone.”

He shook his head, utterly appalled. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"I wish—"

“This is not funny,” he snarled, his demeanor shifting completely, catching you off guard. “If you’re just here to get a reaction out of me, I’d advise you and your friends to leave. Please.”

You frowned, standing up with your fists clenched. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m so sorry! And I don’t… even have friends.”

Viktor searched your face.

There's nothing to suggest a lie. He's observant, and he quietly prides himself over it, but this is one of the few cases where he genuinely starts to doubt his judgment.

"But," you sighed, turning away. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Apologies."

...

"... Wait."

— 🌱

The leaves of the seedling barely moved.

"Aw," you chuckled, dropping your arm to your side. Who knew conjuring plant powers could be so draining? "Well, I tried. Let's take a break!"

He let out a choked noise, pausing his writing. "We barely started! How is it that whenever you get to try something new and amazing, you avoid it?”

...

You didn't respond immediately.

Viktor put down his notebook, looking back at you, who was blankly staring at him.

"I guess I'm... scared?" you said, tilting your head. To his surprise, you gently grabbed his hand, running your thumb across his palm.

His face warmed. He physically couldn't say or do anything.

"You're the only one who knows about this, Vik," you muttered, your eyes fixed on his rough skin. "I sprung this on you when we were kids, which is kind of hilarious, by the way, but I had a reason. In my mind, you were the only one who would understand."

He thought so, too.

Viktor couldn’t stop himself from slipping his fingers between yours. It was a good thing you weren’t looking at him—otherwise, you might’ve seen how red his face had become.

"And you told me no one will believe me," he said, and while the memory was of you giving him a serious warning, his tone was filled with nothing but endearment.

"I still stand by that," you laughed, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment. You still hadn't glance at his face. He mentally scolded himself for almost hoping you would see his expression. "Especially with our age now. They'll just think you're crazy."

"I understand," he chuckled, turning away. "About that break... you want to go to our usual?"

A smile curled your lips. "Yes, please!"

— 💌

Viktor said he has a surprise for you.

Admittedly, you're feeling extremely anxious. He grew up to become a researcher, an inventor—facts that don’t surprise you.

As his best friend, a person able to do magic, while absolutely shitty at it, you know he sees you as someone with massive potential. Literally. No one else in Piltover or Zaun is known to do this. Maybe in a hundred years—who knows? You didn't even have a proper education.

...

Viktor cleared his throat. "I've been offered a position in the University of Piltover."

You froze. The letter in his fingers bore the university’s wax seal in the center, bold and unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes darting between him and the letter. “Holy shit!”

Jumping over to Viktor, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. The biggest, most triumphant smile tugged at your lips. He staggered a little, but you were too wrapped up in your happiness to notice.

"Language," he laughed, hugging you back.

You snickered. "I'm so proud of you! Words can't even begin to express how happy I am for you!"

Pulling back, your hands still rested on his shoulders. Your smile relaxed ever so slightly as your eyes gazed into his softer ones.

"I knew you could do it," you exhaled.

A small pause.

Viktor had a look. Oh, shit. What’s that smirk for?

"...You're not done," you accused, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted the letter in his hand. "I have not accepted yet."

Now, your brows knitted together in utter confusion.

"... Why not—?"

"I said I won't be going unless they let me bring a plus one."

You smile faltered, denial crossing your face. He noticed it. Did he just say what you thought you heard him say?

"Are you saying...?" Your expression shifted into worry; you didn't quite understand his point.

"I want you to come with me," Viktor said, grabbing your hand and placing the letter in your palm. "To Piltover."

Oh, no. You didn't mean to.

You panicked, pulling away, the letter slipping from your hand.

Viktor's brows furrowed. He thought you'd be happier about the news.

Then, he looked around.

It had rained just before he decided to share the news. Some raindrops were still fresh, glistening from the downpour.

And around your figure, small droplets rose into the air. The air is thick with tension.

"Viktor. You're not giving me to them, are you...?"

Defeated. That's how your voice sounded.

"Of course not," he hushed, pushing you onto a chair. "Never. Please calm down. Let me explain."

You obliged, sitting down. He sat beside you.

"I'm sorry," you spoke first, meeting his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you. Heck, I trust you more than anyone. The thought of going up there... it just makes me anxious."

"I understand," Viktor nodded. He turned his head. "However, I promise you, I won’t let them take you away from me. You’ll be solely under my care. But I do know someone who’s willing to help us."

Viktor. So compassionate and filled with empathy. You admired him for those very reasons, not just for his brilliance. His presence feels like a whole other world to you—someone who could help you understand your abilities. Perhaps the only chance you have to truly learn who, or what you are.

"I'll be a burden."

"No. Of course not. I want you by my side."

You hesitated. Despite your family being clueless about your ability, they were still the people you cared for. You still had a life in the undercity.

"And if I refuse...?"

Viktor took a moment to respond. The thought of leaving you hurt his heart.

"You... I believe you don't have much of a choice."

You couldn't explain why, but you found it in yourself to wholeheartedly believe him.

— 💜

zamn

critique is welcome btw

[flowerpotmage]

anyway, since im in financial aid hell with my school rn....

simon riley who really is only an acquaintance to you, some guy you're friendly with because you seem to have a similar routine when it comes to the cafe two blocks from your house and the physical therapist office you both attend.

simon, who's on extended medical leave from a torn rotator cuff surgery and six weeks into twelve of his own physical therapy treatment.

simon who overhears you with a friend in the cafe one morning venting your frustrations with the cost of school and the limits of your own finances. who doesn't mention it until you're both in the waiting room, sitting with one chair between you as usual (he's a big guy, he likes the space to spread his legs. he pretends he hasn't seen your glances).

"going back to school, then?" he asks, quiet and gruff as always.

you wrinkle your nose at the reminder of your current stresses. "yeah," you say, staring down at the carpet. "dunno if i can afford it, though. rent's already so high, and groceries, and then this..." you gesture vaguely, but he knows you mean whatever condition it is you're here for is bleeding you dry.

"shame," he says, and leaves it at that.

"what do you do?" you ask after a long moment of silence. a muscle in his thigh twitches.

"military," he says, meeting your eye when you finally look at him.

you nod, a puzzle piece sliding into place about why he must be here in this office with you. "ah."

"benefits aren't bad," he says, quietly. "medical's paying for all o' this." he nods around the room, a much more leisurely mirror of your earlier hand gesture.

"i should hope so, considering they probably put you where you got whatever it is you're here for." the corner of your mouth lifts in a wry smile.

the conversation stops there when one of you is called in to your appointment. simon doesn't bring it up again, not until something changes.

you run into each other at a bar.

simon's got a beer in hand, something cold and refreshing while he catches up with soap and gaz in the corner. they're on a brief leave and stopped by to visit for an evening before fucking off for a week to wherever it is they have plans to be. simon won't ever say it in as many words, not right now, but he's glad to see them, happy to listen to whatever story they're telling him, until he sees you.

he downs the beer for an excuse to go get another, waving off the two men who offer to go get it when he says "need to stretch my legs," eyes fixed on you the whole time.

"celebratin'?" he asks when he slides into an empty space beside you at the counter, catching the bartender's attention for a refill with a lazy raise of his empty bottle.

"simon," you greet in surprise. he nods at your drink and your slight smile slides away. "not really," you reply to his question. "more like drowning my sorrows. i don't think school's gonna happen this time."

simon frowns, eyes scanning you up and down. your drooped, sad shoulders, the sad, slightly bitter smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

"you know," he says, slowly, as if hesitant. normally wouldn't even dare to think it if he hadn't had just enough to drink. "there's plenty scholarships for military spouses."

it's a wonder he can keep a straight face at the shocked raise of your eyebrows.

[the-odd-shu]

I would recognise you in another lifetime, entirely in different bodies.

A scenario from the illustrator!Reader universe.

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor/Reader (polycule)

Masterlist:

SEASON 2 SPOILERSSSS!!

Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

Summary: Reader who is still wandering around in the ruined dimension because they panic scribbled runes onto their forehead which essentially 'repels' Mage!Viktor's magic. It was sheer luck that gave them the correct rune combination, having stolen one of Viktor's research journals and began copying in a blind panic. The runes also allow them to wander the world, beneath Viktor's radar, essentially invisible to his magic as well as untainted by his influence.

"Jayce." A voice in the darkness whispers, sending goosebumps up the man's forearms, as he twisted his broken body round at the call of his name.

The ravine echoed his panicked movements. The whisper of his filthy clothes sliding against each other. The scrap of skin against jagged stone. His leg protests any movement, but his panic is all consuming and rabid.

"Who-who's there?" He demands, his voice coming out cracked and uneven.

The shuffle of shoes on stone have his head snapping back round and up, and his entire body freezes as he sees a humanoid figure perched on a ledge above where he lays. Back lit by the surface, far, far above, the figure is crouched, knees bent with hands flat against the stone they're perched upon.

"Impossible." The thing whispers to itself, which is a testament to just how silent the ravine is that Jayce can hear it. Then the thing begins to climb down, TOWARDS him.

He panics. Unable to tear his eyes off of it, as it moves fluidly, easily, in the uneven terrain, like some sort of uncanny mountain goat. Clearly, it has been navigating this habitat for a long time.

It has several eyes, Jayce realises with horror. Two in the normal places that humans have eyes, that glow subtly in the poor lighting. And then five points on its forehead, that flow with an unnatural, inner light. If Jayce were not so terrified, he may have thought they were arranged like a crown.

The thing's booted feet slam into the ground, and it straightens up like a man. Jayce makes out ruined clothes, worn shoes, and scraggly, unkempt hair. It approaches him fearlessly.

Jayce scrambles away as best as his ruined leg will allow. "S-stay away!" He demands, the fear obvious in his voice.

It pauses. "Oh. Oh my Love." The thing whispers, "what has he let happen to you?" It lowers itself closer to his level, knees hitting stone, before shuffling closer, clearly trying and failing to be unthreatening. "I'll throttle that bastard the next time I lay eyes on him." It hisses to itself, "allowing you to suffer in the name of learning. As if you haven't had a rough several days already."

It continues to mutter to itself, and Jayce realises with a snag that he recognises the voice. And he hadn't before because of how rough it sounds, like the creature hasn't had use of words for years.

He watches with wide eyes as it aims for his leg, rather than his head and anything vital. It tuts under its breath as it crouches above the injury. "Definitely broken." They mutter.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Jayce asks. In truth, he already knows, but he also doesn't. This person is foreign to him. They move differently to who he is expecting.

"Oh." They say again, voice creaking. "You do not recognise me."

"Step into the light." He says instead.

And the figure tilts their head, those unnatural, glowing eyes sending shivers up and down his back. No, wait, now that they're so close, he realises that the ones further up its face, are in fact runes. Runes that glow with a similar light to the Hexcore. To the magic that had been infused in Viktor's limbs when he had reawakened and stumbled his way across the lab.

At his request, the figure rises once more to their feet, and steps over him towards a beam of light filtering in from far above. The light banishes the uncertainty from Jayce's mind as he gazes upon a face he knows intimately, and yet looks alien to him now.

He was right at least, the upper glowing points on their face were not eyes, but were indeed runes. Runes that looked like they had been carved into the flesh of their forehead.

"What happened to you?" He asks.

"I could ask you the same thing, Love." They return easily, eyes dropping to his leg. "You look like you've been through the ringer." There is a deep, heavy sadness to their voice. A grief that startles Jayce.

Reader lingers by Jayce in the days that follow.

Keeping him company, and indulging his NEED to scribble on the walls. Runes and equations, and any possible ways back home.

They hunt down small creatures to feed him. Sparing his leg the agony of doing it himself, and allowing him to rest.

They venture deeper into the depths of the ravine in search of burnable things for a fire. And help him to the water for a drink.

They do not offer up suggestions of how to escape. Saying obscurer things like, "he's testing you', and 'he won't allow me to remain here if I make this too easy for you'. They always refer to some nameless 'him' but refuse to actually name 'him'. Muttering how if 'he' wanted Jayce to know 'him' yet, than 'he' would have already shown himself.

It gets cold in the ravine at night, so the pair huddle together for warmth. Reader's head on Jayce's shoulder, hands knotted into his ruined clothes as if he'll slip away at a moment's notice.

Sometimes, their rune riddled forehead touches the skin of Jayce's throat. And sometimes the magic residing within offer glimpses of events that Jayce has never experienced himself.

He sees snapshots of the lab, how it was after Viktor woke up from his coma. He sees books upon books of notes open, runes scrawled in both his and Viktor's handwriting, spread out across several desks. He feels the weight of a marker pen in his dominant hand, and sees someone else's terrified face staring back at him in the reflection of a mirror as they scribbled runes across their forehead.

He feels a deep seated terror closing his airways, as he hears the lab door open behind him. As he hears the familiar gait of Viktor's footsteps, tinged with a metallic after note. He feels sweat break on his forehead as his eyes dart from Viktor's approaching form in the mirror, to the useless ink marks standing out on their skin.

Viktor's voice is heavy with his accent as he calls out a greeting, an unnatural, unsettling undertone altering his voice ever so slightly. If Jayce did not know the man as intimately as he did, he would never have noticed the difference.

In the dream - no, the memory - the body that Jayce is hijacking, turns to meet Viktor as he approaches with slow, terrifying footsteps.

"Join me." He coaxes, a mockery of the sweet words he used to utter when inviting one or both of his lovers into bed after a long day spent in the lab.

His urging is denied. Viktor does not listen, and he takes by force. His hand coming down on Jayce's forehead and forces his submission.

By some miracle, the useless runes etched across his forehead ignite. The moment Viktor's hexcore enhanced fingertips touch the writing and he tries to forge a connection, the energy is abruptly converting into a power source for the runes which immediately burst to life. It send a sharp, siring warmth across Jayce's skin, and causes Viktor to recoil with a shout, ripping his hand away.

There is a weird, iridescent light in Jayce's peripheral vision, as Viktor's form stumbles back.

Jayce's head snaps down, and his eyes connect with little mirror on the desk, and he realises with a start that the simple pen marks had sunk down under his skin; having carved a permanent presence into the flesh.

"You- you shut me out." Viktor whispered, his voice oozing with hurt.

The words that shoot forth from Jayce's mouth are not his own as anger and betrayal coats them thickly. "You tried to erase me!" The body he is in snarls, "you tried to turn me into one of your mindless puppets!"

"Not erase, no! I would never erase you." Viktor tries to reassure, "I just wanted to help you see-" but the dream slips away before Jayce can be convinced.

Reader has helped Jayce to the water, where he drinks before tending to his wounded leg. He is dunking a rag into the water to clean his injuries, only to startle when he looks up and finds the white cloaked figure that led him here, looming on the other side of the water. He lets out a startled gasp. Hears Reader step up behind him.

"Oi!" They bellow, voice carrying effortlessly across the pond, to the figure, who turns their hooded head towards them. "Fuck off!"

Jayce blinks, and the figure is gone.

"Nosy bastard." Reader angrily mutters to themselves, bending down to help Jayce with his leg. "Keeping fucking tabs on me."

When Jayce finally claws his way out of the ravine and ends up on the highest point in the world, he discovers that the 'he' was in fact the Viktor of this world. And he realises almost immedaitely, that there is a heavy tension hanging between Reader and Mage Viktor. A mistrust that clearly upsets the mage, who calmly keeps his expressions smooth and his head turned away from the human. Whilst Reader gives him sad, uncomfortable looks whenever he is near.

The dormant statue of Jayce's alternative self drives a clear wedge between them.

When Jayce and Reader had first gotten up here, the latter had wasted no time in collecting some flowers and striding straight up to the statue, whilst Jayce came to realise that the marble figure looked unnervingly similar to him.

They had knelt beside it, and pressed a warm kiss to its temple, whispering a gentle, "good morning, Love," that sent Jayce's head reeling.

And then the hooded mage had appeared.

"Send him back." Reader commanded Mage!Viktor, expression frosty. "It is only fair."

"I was always going to." Mage Viktor argues back, to which they give him a sharp look.

Jayce is reeling from the hostility between the two. The worst fight he'd ever witnessed between the pair was when Reader misplaced one of Viktor's notebooks, and he'd lost his shit. But this, this was clearly an argument that had festered for far too long.

It was a shame Jayce couldn't afford to stick around to help them figure things out.

Viktor was raising his hand, the runes etched into his fingers beginning to glow a soft blue. Reader stood off to the side, arms crossed and their expression sad as they watched the spell begin to take hold.

It was a stray thought slamming into Jayce that had him grasping the borrowed hammer tighter, and throwing out a panicked, "wait!" Viktor's hand froze mid-cast, the spell freezing. Jayce licked his lips, and turned his attention to Reader. "Can you give me the runes that will help my Y/n?"

This dimension's Reader and Mage!Viktor exchange a tense look. "I could, but it will not help you." Reader tells Jayce, who feels a spike of panic. "You see, that interaction between them and The Herald happens whilst you're in this universe. It is down to them and luck if they manage to find the correct rune combination to remain separate from the hivemind."

"So there is nothing I can do."

Mage!Viktor shakes his head. And Reader gives him a look of sympathy. "Sometimes we're lucky, but most of the time, we fall to The Herald like everyone else he cures."

Mage!Viktor and Reader remaining in their ruined dimension. Reader made it a pastime to draw runes on statue!Jayce's forehead to try and revive him. Viktor tells them tiredly that what he has done to their lover is permanent and cannot be reversed. They tell him to go shove his pessimism up his cosmic ass.

They continue to try out different rune combinations day after day. And Viktor lingers nearby, watching them quietly and regretting everything that led them to this place. To these years spent without Jayce'.

He hates that the runes on Reader's forehead prevent him from offering them a glimpse into his thoughts. Prevent him from plainly showing them how remorseful he is. Prevent him from showing them truthfully just how many times he has tried to reverse his mistakes. How many times his tried and failed to bring Jayce back to them. But alas, the runes on their forehead keep him out, and give them enough peace of mind to exist near him, which is more than he truthfully deserves.

"Hand." Reader demands, pulling back their charcoal from Jayce's cracked, marble-like forehead. Viktor offers his hand as he does whenever they finish a combination, and they gently grab his wrist to touch his fingers to the marks. They're always gentle with him, regardless of how furious they are about him ending the world. And somehow the gentleness just makes everything that much worse.

"Though your determination is admirable, have you not grown bored yet?" He asks, as he asks everyday.

"No."

"This isn't working."

"It will."

"There are hundreds of thousands of possibilities. Endless possible combinations. There is no way you will be able to try them all."

"Jayce wouldn't give up." Reader snarks back, effectively shutting Viktor up. "If our roles were reversed, he wouldn't give up on us. Or did that Jayce's determination mean nothing to you." They add, motioning to the place the other Jayce had been stood just this morning. Freshly prepared for the hell he would have to deal with upon returning home.

Viktor lapses into silence. Eyes distant as he glances from his blank faced companion to the meadow of flowers he has cultivated for his late love.

"Hand." Reader demands of him a few moments later, and like clockwork, Viktor gives it to them. Their grasp on his wrist remains careful, but firm. His fingertips smudge the charcoal, and he reaches for that thread within Jayce's dormant subconsciousness. Fishing for a wall that will stop his probing touch, as it had within the individual sat beside him. But as it always seems to, Jayce's mind opens up to Viktor and his fingers sink in. Jayce's memories and emotions swirl beneath his fingertips, and Viktor offers a parting burst of love and adoration before withdrawing. Jayce slumbers on, if not a little easier with the magical nudge.

There is a huff beside him as he withdraws his hand back to his staff. Viktor glances in his peripheral vision at Reader, who tenderly reaches up with a damp, charcoal smudged rag to wipe the old runes away, before they take up their charcoal stick and draw new ones on.

There is a set to Reader's brow this time, a slight wobble in their lower lip that makes Viktor's stomach twist with guilt and longing. He wants to reach out and gather them to him, but he knows from experience that he will just end up getting shoved away, and they'll run from him. Use their runes to their advantage to conceal themselves from him before they inevitably come back for Jayce.

"I miss him." Reader whispers under their breath, and Viktor's eyes close tightly against the sheer pain in their tone.

"As do I." He reassured them, and they smiled tightly at him.

Wordlessly, they reached out for Viktor's hand, and he readily gave it to them. What stuns him however, is how instead of simply placing his fingers for him, they first bring his hand to their lips and press a kiss to the back of it. Their eyes shine when he stares at them in shock, the affection so deeply missed, that for a moment, he is rendered speechless.

"I am still mad at you." They clarify wetly, "but I miss you too."

And Viktor wants to reassure them that he is still here. He has been here the entire time, despite being a little different. Despite having changed. Deep down, he is still their Viktor, and no amount of magic or external influence could truly take him from them.

But he ends up voicing none of that, because they turn away, and lift his offered hand to Jayce's forehead. Viktor's fingertips make contact, and with a jolt, he feels the runes drawn there flare to life.

He lets out a cry, as his magic is snagged from his grasp, and turned to repel him. Reader feels it too, and their grip tightens on Viktor's wrist to yank his hand away.

Jayce's statue body makes a horrible cracking noise as his hands, still outstretched for his hammer, suddenly drop to his sides.

Viktor is on his feet in moments. He grabs Reader by the armpits and hauls them back, his staff raised defensively between them and the statue.

The statue that has begun to flake and twist. Sheets of marble white matter flake off of its ribcage, as its chest begins to rise and fall. It falls off the thing's face, revealing closed eyes and flaring nostrils. Then, the marble around the blown out portion of its head, begins to grow and round out into the shape of a skull, before it cracks like an egg and hair flops out. Familiar, deep brown locks.

With a gasp, Jayce comes back to life. The runes stand out like a crown across his forehead as his eyes fly open and dart all over. His hands pat at his bearded cheeks, along his nose, under his chin. Then he glances down to his body, clad in the very same outfit he had worn on the day Viktor absorbed him into the hivemind.

"I'm alive." He says breathlessly. And there is bewilderment in his voice. And relief. So much relief.

In Viktor's arms, Reader is practically vibrating out of their skin. "I told you." They whisper joyously. "I TOLD YOU!" They exclaim, turning in Viktor's grip to bless him with the widest, most excited smile he has ever seen them muster.

And then they're scrambling out of his arms and flinging themselves at a bewildered Jayce, who barely recovers quickly enough to grab them back. The pair mould together perfectly, as they always had. And the sight makes Viktor's heart ache. He lowers his staff, and takes a hesitant step forward, a private, relieved smile tugging at his own lips.

"V, get over here." Jayce encourages, one arm still around Reader, and the other outstretched to Viktor who hesitates.

"After everything I have done-" Viktor begins in astonishment, feeling like he doesn't deserve such easy forgiveness.

"I'm not asking." Jayce warns, "I'm telling you, V. Get over here."

And with a huff, Viktor lets Jayce take his extended hand and drag him down into a hug. And by the gods, has he missed the warm touch of this man.

There is still so much left unsaid between them. Apologies that need to be offered, and mistakes that need to be talked out. But for now, this was enough.

[thegnomelord]

Lending a Hand

CW:NSFW @bluegiragi Monster tf141au go give her some love!, Werewolf Soap!, Harpy Gaz!, Mage reader!, Dom top Male reader, sub bottom Gaz and Soap, gratuitous depictions of sex, heat/rut, Dom/sub, anulingus, knotting, dirty talk (attempts at it anyway), Poly!TF141,

3k word long af fic because I overwrote again :/ asks are always welcome lol.

Price and Ghost had left you three to entertain yourselves while they went on a mission, and like every thing in Soap's life, his rut come in swinging out of nowhere. One moment he's playing some old racing game, sitting on the floor while you and Gaz sit on the harpys' bed, and the next — his nose is twitching and he swears he can taste your scents on his tongue, the heavenly combination of Gaz's spicy sweet cologne and your own harsher smell making heat burn in every cell of his body.

He feels Gaz's leg brush against his back and it makes every strand of hair on his body puff up, a low sound like rumbling thunder ringing in his ears and an overwhelming need to scent you two clawing at his brain. The controller falls from his hands when he turns to nuzzle his face into Gaz's leg, huffing in his scent like a man possessed, his mind already imagining all the times they've fucked and how fucking good Kyle had felt wrapped around his knot like a proper mate. His cock grows hard in his pants and his skin flushes when he realizes the low rumbling sound is coming from him; a mating growl that neither of you can answer.

"Soap, you alright there?" He moans hearing your voice, the sudden sensation of your hand on his shoulder and your heavy scent — corrupted by magic and smelling of overwhelming dominance as if you're a part of the nature running in his blood — has his tail curling up without prompting and back arching with a high pitched whine, clawed hands grasping at both of your legs now.

"Donnoe mates... feeling hoht all of a'udden." Soap slurrs, sight and mind going hazy, mind buzzing with heat. His cock is hardening in his pants, and there's a slickness between his thighs when he rubs them together.

"Shit, think the git's going into rut." Kyle says under his breath, his feathers ruffling up when he reaches out to feel the heat of Johnny's forehead. Soap moans at the skin contact only for it to turn into a growl when he realizes he can't scent you both at once. His body feels like it wants to rip itself in half to hold both of you, to cover both you and Gaz in his scent and fuck, but with only one body he does the next best thing and pivots on his knees to shove his face where the scent is the strongest — your crotch.

"Fuck- MacTavish!" You hiss, immediately trying to shove him. He clings to you like a fly to shit, whining incomprehensible words and chest stinging from rejection. His body shakes and shifts, not the sudden transformation you're used to seeing on the battlefield but a minute gradual change parallel to his need. Clawed hands grip your legs, his clothes straining at the seams when he pants against your crotch, tail curled up in an desperate attempt to gain his mates' attention; to show how strong and good and ready he is.

"Shit, sorry lad." Kyle gives an awkward cough. "Help me with him yeah? My arse won't be able to handle him like this." He says and doesn't even have enough decency to look embarrassed about his words, reaching out to tug on Soap's hair like he knows Johnny likes, Kyle's attempts to tug him away only making him burry his face into your groin even more.

"You sure, won't I be taking advantage of him?" You go to ask if this would be too much, if you'd be crossing a line when Soap's like this — blissed out and barely himself — even if you feel your cock harden from his nuzzling.

"Yeah... you're fine— he'd had bit you by now if he was against it." Gaz says with a small awkward giggle all first time lovers make, not at all realizing it's not the best thing to say when you have a half transformed werewolf shoving his face into your dick. "We trust you mate." He admits; even if you've been on the team a few months, even if your past isn't all that reputable — they trust you. Both of them.

Soap's not paying attention to what's being said, how could he when he can smell you and feel your cock through your pants, and fuck he wants it needs it in him now. He mouths at your cock, uncaring and unaware of his fangs painfully scraping and digging into your skin through your clothes. All he wants is to taste that cock, his body growing bigger and clothes ripping at the seams as his mind conjured up thoughts of fucking and being fucked.

His insides clench pitifully around nothing and he needs a cock to push deep inside him and stretch him wide until he's knotted and round with pups. His knot feels hard and cold and he needs to feel tight heat of a mate around his knot that he can breed full of his cum. He needs... he needs—

"Fine! Fine!" You give in with a hiss when Johnny's teeth dig into your pants in an attempt to get to your cock. You tug him up by the hair your grip harsher and firmer than Kyle's, everything about you feeling so overwhelmingly dominant he doesn't even try to fight, only trying to get closer to you.

You have to brace yourself when he bears down on you, teeth going to mark up your throat the moment he can push his face into your neck. You groan when he bites down on your neck with sharp teeth and Gaz croons softly, pushing himself close to you both, his large wings twitching excitedly when Soap answers with a low whiny growl of his own. His attention pivots and now he's trying to scent and mark the harpy until you shift just a bit and his head ricochets back to your neck, teeth creating a warzone on both of your necks.

"Alright, Gaz, on the bed." You order and yank Soap's head back when he bites too close to your jugular. Gaz moves to follow your order and you have to hold Soap by the hips to keep him from lunging at Kyle because his mate is going away and he can't have that!

"Wait." Your harsh and rough voice falls on deaf ears as Soap continues to shift and get bigger, his shirt tearing off his body and the button of his pants popping open. The sudden release of his cock has Soap whining low and loud and rocking his hips into the air as if already mating and his tail smacking against your leg as a sign for you to just fuck him already. "What the fuck did I just say?" You growl and grab his clothed dick in a harsh grip.

"So- fock- ry, sorry!" Soap manages, his hips still doing small thrusts in an attempt to grind his slick backside against your crotch despite your chastising.

"Well aren't you bossy." Gaz teases and watches you two with a hungry dark look in his eyes, already naked and reclining on the bed, his back tensing as he forces his wings to retract into his body. God knows a rutting Soap doesn't have enough brain space not to crush his wings while fucking him.

Your eyes meet Gaz's. "How about he preps you?" Your question has Johnny's canine tongue lolling out of his maw automatically as if Gaz needs more convincing.

"Jesus, fuck yeah," Gaz breathes out, not even needing to be told what position to take. He flops on his stomach, laying his head on a pillow and pushes his knees beneath him to raise his arse into the air and spread his thighs wide open, vulnerable hole and hard cock almost shamelessly on display.

"God, look at you Gazzy, so eager to get your ass eaten out?" You coo, enjoying the view as much as Soap is. "Or are you imagining how pretty you'll look stuck on this big knot?" You ask, catching his eyes as you pull down Soap's boxers down just enough for his dick to poke out, already hard and wet and leaking pre like a faucet.

"How about it boy? Can you use that mouth of yours for something useful this once?" You tease Soap with your words, keeping him from lunging at Gaz. Your rough words and even rougher hold on him has Johnny nodding his head as fast as he can, unintelligent words rolling from his mouth.

"Get on with it you bloody git." Kyle demands with a blush, arching his back.

"You heard him, be good and stretch him out for your knot properly...or else." The slight edge of danger in your tone has Soap paying attention even when your words go in one ear and out the other and he dives face first into Gaz's backside the moment you let go of him. Soap wastes no time and immediately slobbers all over Kyle's skin, drawing surprised squawks from the other man as his tongue licks from his balls up to his arse and back again. It doesn't take long for Soap to concentrate on his hole, even less for Soap to bully his tongue inside Gaz flooding his hole with slobber and stretching him wide open.

"Oh fock, oh shit..." Kyle burrows his head into the pillow, trying and failing to hide his harsh moans and small chirps and sharp 'ah, ah, ah's with every twist and turn of Soap's wide and longue tongue. He doesn't care when Soap grip his thighs so hard that bruises bloom immediately, not when Soap buries his face deeper into his arse that Soap's nose is flush with his tail bone and his canine tongue abuses his prostate.

"Such eager lads." You chuckle and settle behind Soap, pulling what remains of his pants down his thighs and off him. He growls at you, before your presence registers in his mind and his tail is curling up and as soon as the pants are down he's spreading his thighs and arching his back and wiggling his arse like a trained whore. He's leaking like a tap on both ends, his cock rock hard and knot half engorged and slick staining his skin from hole to mid thigh.

"Already wet for me Johnny? And here I thought you're supposed to fuck bitches—" You grab his tail and tug it up making Gaz scream a loud-"Fuck!"- when Johnny jumps and his tongue pushes as far as it can go. "—not be one."

Soap's shaking and his dick's leaking from the rough treatment of his tail, but the appendage wags even as you manhandle it. "Shit, mate, don't stop talking." Gaz moans into the pillow, claws and talons desperately clinging to the bedding with every thrust and twist of Soap's tongue. It's like your words are a drug that push both of them deeper and deeper into lust, Soap's brain long since melted into his dick.

"Yeah? You like how good Johnny's eating you Gaz?" You ask, your fingers grasping and playing with Soap's ample ass. "Does he taste good Johnny? Just think how tight he's going to be around you, you'll stretch him good huh?" Soap can do nothing but whine at the absolute filth leaving your lips, each word urging and commanding him to shove his tongue deeper, to cover every inch of his spongy walls in spit, of bashing his prostate with his tongue until Gaz's moaning and squawking like a bitch in heat.

"Good boy," Your fingers trace against Soap's hole and fuck he's so wet for you that you don't even need to get lube, holding his tail by the base you hook and push your thumb into his waiting hole and Soap howls as his body clenches down so hard you'd think he was aiming to break bones.

"Biased much mate?" Gaz croaks and chuckles between his moans, his hips moving into Soap's face in a desperate attempt to cum, stray loose feathers disappearing between the sheets.

"Good boys." You correct yourself, pulling your thumb out despite Soap's desperate whines and pushing two fingers into him at once, setting a harsh and quick pace that has both of them whining and moaning and growling.

Your fingers are thick and calloused from years of magic use and they stretch Soap out so good he can't help but moan into Kyle's hole, barely able to pant with spit running down his lips. His rut made his prostate so big your large fingers find it as soon as you're knuckles deep and you're quick to rub and press on it with all the finesse of a tank. You keep firm hold of him by his tail and Soap cums as soon as you push three fingers down on his prostate, white ropes of cum shooting into the sheets and pulling Gaz into his own orgasm.

"Good lads, you did good." The pride in your voice has their hearts beating just a little quicker, reaching over you tug Johnny's head away from Kyle's ass with a lewd and depraved 'squelch' 'shlich' ringing through as Johnny rolls his tongue into his mouth. Shit, Gaz looks so wrecked already, wet sounds echoing through the room every time his hole clenches around nothing. Johnny's so big now, at least a foot taller than you now, but he submits so prettily to you...

Pulling your fingers out of Johnny earns you a rumbling growl, his cock not even having softened hips grinding back on yours. "Hush now." You order with your mouth close to his pointy ear, "Don't worry Johnny, you'll be nice and full of cock in no time."

Kyle shifts and gains your attention. "Kyle, you okay? Need to tap out?" You ask, pushing your absolutely drenched fingers into Soap's mouth to quiet his whining, you don't mind his teeth nicking your fingers and Johnny's so lustdrunk to care about who's slick he's tasting only that it makes his cock that much harder.

"That- nah." Kyle breathes, completely boneless but still managing to perk his arse up a bit. "Come on, just wanna feel 'im, please."

"You heard him Johnny." Pulling your fingers out of his mouth you guide Johnny to mount Gaz, one hand firmly on his tail and the other wrapped around the tip of his cock so all he can do is uselessly hump Gaz without penetrating him. Johnny doesn't even notice you teasing the both of them when you rub his tip against Gaz's hole every time his hips pull back, only to angle his cock up the second Johnny tries to thrust into Kyle.

"Focking git!" Gaz whines, and you don't need to see him beneath Soap's broad and large frame to know he's glaring at you. "Get on with it or I swear I'll string everything you own up in the trees." His threat would be a lot scarier if his voice wasn't weak and whiny from your teasing.

"Spoilsport." You tease back, blindly angling Johnny's cock tip against his hole, easing your grip and letting Soap slide his cock into Gaz in an agonizingly slow pace until only his knot remained outside of Gaz with your calloused hand clutching it. "Feels good?" You receive moans and low growls in response, Soap's mind so consumed by the heavenly heat around his cock he can do nothing but pant and thrust his hips forward. "Okay, okay, be good now." You laugh and let go of his cock.

The second his proverbial collar is taken off Soap wastes no time and begins fucking Gaz in earnest, biting down hard on his shoulder, hips and tail a blur of movement and all of his lupine strength going into jackhammering his cock as deep as fast into Gaz as he physically can. The bed 'thump, thump, thump's against the wall wall with every violent thrust, drowned out by Kyle's moans and whines and shouts Johnny manages to pull each time his balls slap against Gaz's. You can even see the way his knot stretches Gaz's ass, his hole greedily clenching around the bulb as it grows bigger and bigger with every hip shattering thrust that leaves Gaz grasping at clawing at whatever he can reach.

You don't even have time to finish undressing before Johnny's shoving his cock deep inside and cumming with a deep growl, his teeth firmly latched onto Gaz's flesh and knot keeping them tied together.

Kyle groans when Soap collapses on top of him, arms wrapped firmly around him and pinning him down to the bed as every bit of strength leaves the werewolf. "That was fast." You chuckle, going to turn them to their sides so Soap isn't crushing Gaz. You notice Gaz is still hard like a rock, a little bulge in his stomach where Johnny's cock and cum fill his insides. Even after cumming twice Soap still tries to fuck in his delirium but manages only small little shuffles of his hips that only succeed in making his seed slosh around inside Gaz.

"Insatiable monsters." You tease, one hand tracing the belly bulge and lifting Soap's leg up on your shoulder with the other, his thighs even slicker now than before.

"Man... shu'it." Gaz slurs, watching you stroke your cock a few times with hooded eyes, Soap's head buried in his shoulder and teeth creating more marks on his skin. Soap turns cuddly after a good rut, at least until it starts all over again. "Fuck, you gonna...?"

"Yep." You say, sliding closer. It's an odd position to take and your back is going to complain later, but it's more than worth it when you finally get to slide inside Johnny's soaking wet arse, pulling low groans from both of them as it makes Johnny's cock slide a bit deeper. "Shit, you're so tight Johnny."

Gaz can feel the cock inside him twitch from your praise and the vibrations of a purr through his skin as Soap tries to thrust his hips back into yours despite the knot and Soap's arms not willing to let him separate from Gaz. You begin with a slow pace and every rock of your hips has the knot inside Kyle pushing and pulling on his poor oversensitive insides, Soap's cum sloshing inside him. He already feels so full and like there's fire in his veins, but this slow and deep pace you set has his head tilting down and body fully relaxing and letting himself just feel.

Despite being mentally checked out for a while, a little bit of Soap's lucidity comes back now that he's knotted; Everything he can smell everything he can feel everything he is zeroes down on his groin, on the heavenly heat wrapped around his knot and your unhurried but strong thrusts. That's what he needs right now— to forget what it feels like to be empty and feel a hard cock spearing his insides and bullying his prostate and leaving him drooling on Gaz's skin.

You manage to push them into cuming again before your own climax reaches you and you cum deep in Soap, who in response bites down on Gaz's shoulder again. You try to pull away but Soap growls and whines, he doesn't want to feel empty again when you'd filled him so fucking good, he wants you to stay like this, keep him nice and full with your cum.

Gaz blindly grabs at you, vocalizing what Soap can't. "Stay." He manages to slur, looking like he's ready to fall asleep any second with Johnny already snoozing the moment you stop moving.

Despite the stickiness you're no doubt going to wake up with, you sigh and settle down behind Soap, throwing a hand around his massive frame and not even noticing when exhaustion claims you.

...

"Well would'ou look at that, really tuckered themselves out." Price's voice rings somewhere at the edge of your subconsciousness, though it's hard to tell when exhaustion has you so firmly by the throat you can barely open your eyes.

"Could have turned their mics off." It takes you a moment to recognize Ghost's voice somewhere near you, your body almost not your own as it nuzzles into the warm back in front of you.

This time a chuckle comes, "Don't say it as if you didn't like it." There's a teasing lilt to his voice, but your attention is stolen away when Soap moves and only now you realize that not only are you still inside him, but he's far from satisfied.

You don't even think he's awake yet his hips start moving again, pulling sounds from both you and Gaz because fuck your dick's so oversensitive you think it might fall off.

"Howa 'bout we leave them to it hmm? Looks like he's got his hands full." Price's referring to you, and you hear his snort when Soap whines and thrusts his hips back into yours again with enough force you swear you hear something creak.

God help you...and your pelvis.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The unspoken truth

viktor x mage!reader

| part of a series, angsty in this chapter but it will get better I promise

re-uploaded

part 2: DONEEE

2.5k words

The dim glow of Hextech light flickered in Viktor’s workshop, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. You leaned against a workbench piled with scattered blueprints and tools, your gaze fixed on Viktor as he moved through the space. His cane tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, the sound mingling with the faint hum of machinery.

It was always mesmerizing to watch him work. His hands were steady and precise, moving with an almost mechanical efficiency. But tonight, something was different.

He seemed distracted.

You noticed the way his fingers lingered too long on the edges of the device he was repairing. The subtle tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes flicked toward you every few minutes, only to dart back to his work when he caught you looking.

“Viktor?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He froze for a moment, his back to you. Then, he sighed and set the tool in his hand down with more care than usual. When he turned, his amber eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation in them—a rare sight. Viktor was a man of conviction, always sure of his thoughts, his words, his actions. But now, he looked… uncertain.

“Miláček,” he said softly, his voice laced with his thick accent, though it lacked its usual confidence. “There is something I must tell you.”

The way he said it made your heart tighten. You straightened, a faint hum of wild magic stirring under your skin in response to the unease settling in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling around the head of his cane for support. “It is… difficult to say,” he admitted, his brows furrowing deeply. “But I have waited long enough. I owe you the truth.”

Your stomach churned, but you nodded, urging him to continue.

He exhaled sharply, like a man prepared to be shot. “I am dying.”

The words hit you like a physical force, stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you could only stare at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking, that this was some cruel misunderstanding. But Viktor didn’t look away. He held your gaze, his expression resigned and heavy with the weight of his admission.

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head. “No… you can’t you’re not-” She couldn’t even get her words out properly a stammering and stuttering mess.

“I am.” His voice was quiet, but firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I have known for some time. My condition… It has progressed beyond what science can repair.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. You grabbed his hand, gripping it like he’s going to fade away, as. “Viktor,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something you almost never saw in him—fear. “Because I did not want to burden you,” he admitted. “You are… everything to me. The thought of leaving you-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I could not bear with it.”

“Well, too late for that!” you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. “Viktor, you’re the one who’s dying, and you were worried about me? And please… please don’t call yourself a burden, you are nothing of the sort!.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

The raw honesty of his answer left you momentarily speechless.

But then, something shifted inside youaa surge of determination that burned hot and wild, like the magic in your veins. You stood straighter, letting go of his hand to wipe at your tears. “No,” you said firmly. “This isn’t over. I won’t let you just-just give up!”

His brow furrowed. “This is not something you can fix, miláček.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you shot back. “If science can’t save you, then I’ll find something that can. Magic. I have read about ancient mages that can heal sickness. If they can do it, I can learn.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “You cannot fix everything with magic, my love.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I can still try even if it’s the death of me.”

The next day, you ventured onward. Your path was set, even as doubt gnawed at you. If there was even the faintest hope of saving Viktor, you had to try. The thought of him—his soft voice calling you sweet names, his careful hands brushing yours in quiet moments, his unyielding determination to improve the world gave you the strength to leave. But it didn’t silence the fear that churned in your chest.

The ship was weathered and cramped, its crew brusque and disinterested in your presence. They ushered you into a small cabin that smelled of salt and mildew, barely large enough to hold the narrow bed and a rickety table pushed against the wall. The grime-streaked window offered little light, and the faint creak of the ship settling in the water was the only sound.

You dropped your bag onto the bed, your shoulders heavy. Your eyes caught on a small vase atop the table, holding what might once have been a bouquet of flowers. Their petals hung lifeless, browned and curled, the stems brittle and drooping over the rim.

Something about their frailty twisted in your chest.

You reached out, brushing a withered petal with your fingertips. It crumbled under your touch, scattering into tiny flakes.

Without thinking, your magic stirred. Purple light glimmered faintly around your hand, the energy coiling through your fingers like smoke. It flowed into the flowers, weaving through the decay and coaxing it away.

In moments, the transformation was complete. The bouquet stood tall and vibrant once more, soft pink peonies blooming as if they had just been plucked from a garden. The sight was beautiful, almost painfully so.

For a brief moment, you smiled. But the smile faltered as reality crashed back over you.

Your hand hovered above the flowers, trembling. “I can heal this,” you murmured, your voice shaking. “I can heal flowers. I can mend scratches and cuts. I can close wounds.”

The words grew louder, tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop them.

“But I can’t fix him!”

The last word broke into a sob. You stumbled back, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as your breathing hitched. Tears blurred your vision as you pressed your hands to your face.

“Why? Why can’t I fix him?”

The question echoed in your mind, over and over, growing louder with each repetition. Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, your chest heaving as the room seemed to tilt and blur around you.

Your magic flared uncontrollably, sparking from your fingers and racing through the air like wild lightning. The ship groaned beneath you, the wood trembling as though responding to your anguish. The table rattled, its legs scraping against the floor, and the window shattered outward with a deafening crash.

“Stop,” you whispered, clutching your head as the sound of your own voice became too much. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

But it wouldn’t stop. The pressure in your chest built until it felt like you couldn’t breathe, the air clawing at your lungs but refusing to fill them. Your hands trembled violently, and your magic surged, making the room ripple with an unnatural hum.

“I can’t, I-….” you choked out, the words barely audible. “I can’t do this!”

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one cutting through you like a knife. The pounding of your heartbeat filled your ears, drowning out the creaks and groans of the ship.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead against them. “Please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were begging—yourself, the universe, or some unknown force that might be listening. “Please, just let me breathe.”

The ship rocked violently beneath you, the waves slamming against its hull as if matching the storm inside you.

And then, finally, it stopped.

Your magic fizzled out, the purple light dissipating into nothingness. The shaking ceased, leaving the room eerily still. Shards of glass glittered on the floor, reflecting the dim light from the broken window.

You forced yourself to breathe—slow, measured breaths that felt like they scraped against raw wounds. The air was too thick, too heavy, but you forced it into your lungs anyway.

Tears still streamed down your face as you stared at the shattered window, the bouquet of flowers untouched amidst the wreckage.

“What good is this magic?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice shaking. “What good is it if I can’t save him?”

The words echoed in the silence, their weight sinking into your chest.

You crawled into the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself into a fetal position as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. The sound of the waves outside lulled you into an uneasy sleep, but even in your dreams, the pain of your helplessness lingered.

[yuri-is-online]

OMG SKULLLYYYYY

HES SO CUTE- HES SO ANIMATED AND HIS VOICE IS PITCHED JUST RIGHT THATS ITS LIKE "OH YOURE A PUPPY" AND IT FITS HIM SO WELL AND HES SO FLUFFY AND HE FUCKING KISSED EVERYONE AND CALLED YUU LOVELY AND IS JUST JOKINGLY FLIRTING WITH EVERYONE AND I JUST-

ALL THE OTHER CHACTERS ARE ALL RESERVED AND WEIRD WHEN IT COMES TO HIGS AND KISSES BUT YOU KNOW WHO AINT?! THIS GUY!!! THIS GAY IS FINE IF YUUS ALL KISSY FLIRTY WITH HIM CAUSE HES THE SAME WAY AND ITS JUST 😫😫😫😫 WE HAVE AN OUTLET!!! I CAN BE AS AFFECTIONATE AS I DAMN WELL PLEASE WITH THIS MF AND IT'LL BE FINE CAUSE HE MATCHES ENERGY SO WELL

HES MY NEW FAVORITE WHITE BOY!!! HES SUCH A GENTLEMAN BUT IN SUCH A CHAOTIC WAY AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OMGGGGGG

He's so energetic and full of life in the same way as the Addams Family is, a real win for the goths and the emos who have stayed stanning Jack the Pumpkin King since Hot Topic first opened it's doors <3

He's even holding Yuu in his arms when they wake up... which gave me a truly evil idea he's such a sweetheart by the sounds of the event so far I will be so sad when we forget everything upon leaving the book. The other NRC guys are just jealous he has the confidence and energy to be a fun flirt because they're too used to Rook pretending to be french to appreciate Skully's swagger lol

[cursedcupcakemaster]

no one asked me for this but fuck it this fandom deserves more

Warnings:fluff,implied depression, slight yandere themes

Notes:i do not own these characters these fictions are my interpretation of how they'd be in a relationship with someone, reader can be any species up to y'all, I use "you" for the reader reader is gender neutral,

Enjoy everyone~

Type: deluxe fruit tart

Thistle Relationship Headcanons

First of all you have your work cut out for you but please please love this elf as much as you possibly can

One thing I can describe this guy as is protective of you, look how far he went for his adoptive sibling, depending on the timeline he might not really let you leave the kingdom let alone the dungeon

Yall will need therapy, maybe twice a week and it takes a lot of convincing to make him go

There is a second thing I could describe Thistle as and that would be romantic when he really feels something

He probably serenades you using his lute and singing poems he made about the way you make him feel

Kisses are not often between you two but they're very gentle and sweet

He won't really cuddle with you unless it's bedtime, he holds you really tight as if he's scared of you disappearing like Delgal did sometimes you feel his tears soaking your clothes almost as if he's silently begging you to stay with him forever

May or may not have cast immortality on you to stay alive if you guys never left the dungeon

My bet is in the modern timeline he is a little less high strung thanks to your dates

Said dates are often walking through the woods, composing music together or bookstore dates

Let this man fiddle with your hair it calms his nerves and he likes styling it for you though he won't admit it out loud, he loves when you do his own hair not that he'd admit that either, it just comforts him with how gentle you are

Thistle may not be the best person but he overall does so much just because of how much he loves you

[silverryuan]

TWST with an Angelic Mage reader

Warning: Reader is suicidal, slight swearing.

Angel Magic revolves around summoning angels, each of which are capable of inflicting different kinds of damage. An Angelic Mage can summon them through the use of Angel Coins. Each coin representing a portion of the user's lifespan. If the summoned angel is defeated, the user will suffer great pain. Only powerful Angelic Mages are capable of summoning basic angels without a cost and suffer no drawbacks when they are defeated.

...Listen, I'm gonna be honest with you guys...

I don't really give a shit about the lore of the characters, I'm mostly interested in the magic/skills they use (examples: Blood Mage, Angelic Mage).... Why do I like risky magic concept? I don't know. I just think they're creative. Like, when there's a protagonist that just punches things with fire magic, ooh so classic. When there's an antagonist with a destructive magic but there's one flaw or loophole about it that the protagonist has to figure out in order to defeat them, wow ok cool... BUT THEN THERE'S THAT ONE SIDE CHARACTER EITHER THAT DOESN'T GET ENOUGH SCREENTIME OR WE'LL NEVER GET TO SEE AGAIN THAT HAS A CREATIVE CONCEPT OF THEIR MAGIC: SUMMONS ANGELS, CONTROL BLOOD VESSELS, STABS THEMSELVES TO UNLEASH THEIR BUILT-UP MANA TO DEMOLISH SHIT. LITERALLY DESTROYS EVERYTHING INCLUDING THEMSELVES BECAUSE HELL NAH THEY AIN'T GOING TO JAIL.

...Sorry, I'm just rambling at this point, please excuse me. Now, onto the story!

• .............................................................................

• .........................This is boring.

• You thought that it's your time to arrive at death's door but no. Instead, you have to wait inside this stupid coffin for what it feels like eternity. Thank god that this fiery gremlin gave you an excuse to come out. This way, the Grim Reaper won't punish you for coming out of your coffin~

• Oh! It looks like this creature's name is Grim. How cute! Until he demanded that you strip. Not cute! What's that? He'll roast you if you won't strip off your robe? What a coincidence! Your little angels are hungry for some weasel, silly Grim 😊........... Run🙂.

{Meanwhile, at the ceremony}

• While the Dark Mirror sorts all of the students to their respective dorms, Crowley went to the Hall of Mirrors to fetch the last coffin. He was quite puzzled when the coffin did not respond to his call to levitate to the ceremony room.

Dark Mirror: "Hmmm... Heartslabyul!"

Azul: "My, that's quite a number of students for this year."

Leona: "Yawn... When will this be over?"

Riddle: "How impatient, Kingscholar. There's only 1 hour and 23 minutes left until the ceremony ends and that's your 12th yawn."

Idia, via tablet: "Dude, you've been counting his yawns?"

Kalim: "Huh... Is that enough time for Jamil to prepare the Welcoming Party?"

{Meanwhile at Scarabia}

Jamil, setting up the plates: "WHERE IS THE CHICKEN SALAD?!"

Scarabia Student A, cutting the vegetables: "I'M MAKING IT--"

Jamil: "DO IT FASTER! WHY IS THIS KEBAB STILL RAW?!"

Scarabia Student B, holding a flaming pan: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"

{Back at the ceremony}

Kalim: "...Nah, It's Jamil! I'm sure he can handle it."

Vil: "Bring the next coffin. I still have an interview tonight."

• The headmage returned to the room with no coffin.

Crowley: "... I think we'll be behind schedule for a bit."

Leona: "And what do you mean by that ?"

Crowley: "The last coffin is empty."

Vil: "... Pardon?"

Riddle: "How in Twisted Wonderland...?"

Azul: "Impossible. That can't be."

Crowley: "Do not worry! For I will graciously search for them myself--"

• Just as he was about to turn back with his lash, a small screaming monster burst through the doors and ran inside the room. The monster hid behind Crowley, using him like a shield. The students overheard the loud monster and pulled out their magical pens.

Grim: "FNYAAAAH! THEY'RE GONNA EAT ME!"

Crowley: "What the- Halt, monster! You should not be on campus-"

Grim: "THEY'RE SCARY! DON'T LET THEM GET NEAR ME! SHUT THE DOORS BEFORE THEY GET IN!!"

Crowley: "Who?"

?????!??????: "...Hehehe...😊"

• The two looked at the hallway of the door and see a silhouette of a person approaching the room. The headmage then recognized the robe and immediately thought that the person is the missing student. The alerted students put away your magical pen, thinking that the monster is your familiar.

Grim: "I-IT'S THEM! CLOSE IT! CLOSE IIIT!!"

?????!??????: "Be not afraid 😇."

Grim: "Fnyaagh!!"

Crowley: "Ah! You must be the last student. Quite the impatient one, are you?"

?????!??????: "I apologize. But I simply couldn't bear to wait any longer."

Crowley: "You must also tame your familiar properly! Look at how afraid he is of you!"

Grim: "Fnyagh?! Heck no! I'm not this weirdo's pet! A-and the Great Grim's scared of no one!"

?????!??????: "You're not? Oh well, I guess I just misunderstood your appearance then."

Crowley: "He's not yours?"

Grim & ?????!??????: "Nope!"

Crowley: "Then I will order students to throw this beast off of campus."

Grim: "FNYAGH! WAIT, YA CAN'T DO THAT! I'M A MAGE HERE! NOOOOO!! JUST YOU WAIT! I'LL BE THE GREATEST MAGE IN THIS SCHOOL!!!"

• The headmage then called a couple of students to restrain the monster and drag him out of the room. It's a shame~ You really thought that this feline will guide you to heaven but you couldn't help but feel a little bad. Just a little bit. Wait, did he just say school?

Crowley: "Ahem! Without further ado, let the ceremony continue! Please stand in front of the Dark Mirror and say your name."

?????!??????: "...Why?"

Crowley: "To sort you, of course. Now go."

Leona: "Finally. This stupid ceremony better be over.... Yawn"

Riddle: "That's your 13th yawn."

Idia: "Bruh, just stop counting."

• You noted that some students still kept their guard up, thinking that if the monster was so scared of you to the point of running and hiding, then you might be the bigger monster. The students near you stepped away after sensing your heavy aura.

• The mask-wearing man shoved you in front of an old, intricately designed mirror. A face appeared on the surface, scowling at you.

Dark Mirror: "State thy name."

AngelMage! Yuu: "AngelMage! Yuu."

• The mirror stared intensely at you before expressing shock and disdain. Almost like it sees through you...

Dark Mirror: "...This soul does not belong in any dorm."

• The crowd of students gasped in shock and the headmage is in disbelief. Whispers among the students soon filled the room, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere.

Crowley: "I do not understand! The Ebony Carriage would never... How?!"

Dark Mirror: "Thy soul... Is dark... Their soul is divine but impure... Their light is bright but tainted..."

Crowley: "Tainted?.... Could it be? Blot?"

Dark Mirror: "...This one possesses an art form of magic that is celestial, yet uses it for horrible intentions, throwing no caution of the power they hold..."

Azul, pushing his glasses up: "Celestial, you say?"

Idia: "Damn, this sounds like an anime scene."

Dark Mirror: "... The darkness in their soul has swallowed and layered their heart. Thus, they do not belong in any dorm."

[specshroom]

Mage reader is definitely the type to purposefully jump into siren infested waters lmao.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Like imagine you overhear some sailors talking about how they have to sail past siren territory and your ears perk up. You beg the sailors to let you join, under the pretence that you're a studious mage who's "researching sirens" and "studying their magic". 

The sailors believe you and bring you along the trip to the rough waters of the siren's territory. They've all plugged and covered their ears as usual, except for you, you're too busy leaning over the ships edge to get a peak at any sirens below. And wouldn't you know, the second you hear the siren's song you're gone. Lost in a trance, blank expression unable to hear the sailors yelling at you as you stand up on the ships edge and jump right into the sea.

The cold waters shock you out of your trance as you take in the quiet surroundings, salt water burning your eyes. You try and swim to the surface but feel a strong tug on your leg. Squinting down into the deep darkness you finally see the creature you were looking for. 

Dark black eyes stare up at you from below, it's powerful tail swaying behind it. The siren pulls you down, deeper into it's predatory hold with it's clawed hands. You stare at it in awe and the siren stares back, confused as to why you aren't struggling at all. 

You then feel a pinch in your lungs as you run out of air. You promptly take both hands and firmly grasp the sirens cold cheeks before pulling the creature into a deep kiss. 

The siren freezes in absolute shock as you kiss them deeply. The kiss breaths magic into your lungs, giving you temporary air. You release the sea creature from the kiss and take a hesitant breath.

"That actually worked?!?!"

Your excited yell comes out as just bubbles in the water as the siren continues to stare, dumbfounded. Your hands move from their cheeks to the sirens agape mouth, excitedly exclaiming how sharp their teeth are while touching the pointed tips with your fingers. 

You're very touchy, the siren learns as they let you marvel at their body. Running your fingers down the sirens arm, comparing your hands, intertwining your fingers. The siren is at a complete loss of how to deal with this but before you can touch anything too important you feel that pinch in your lungs again. 

You look up at the beast and tap your lips. The siren finally huffs at you in disbelief and you take that as a yes and pull them in for another deep kiss. You kiss for much longer than is necessary and you even try to sneak your tongue into the kiss which earns you a little nip from the siren. 

The creature grins at you, pulls your body against theirs and comes to the conclusion not to eat you

You bring your arms around the shoulders of their much bigger frame as they hold you close to swim deeper into the cold depths. 

They have to show the rest of the pod this very strange human they caught.

𓆉 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓇼

[yan-randomfandom]

I know it's inappropriate to ask this since you just made the fanfic, but you made me very curious...

--Sorry

Could there be a sequel to yandere viktor and the beginning mage reader? What would it be like for the reader to go along with Viktor, and if the reader had an almost "magical" beauty and thus always caught people's attention but the reader was always oblivious and didn't even notice it, would Viktor be jealous? what about Jayce, what will it be like? Would the reader tell him his secret, since he and Viktor are working together?

Click here for the OG post:

Y!Viktor x Mage!Reader HCs

a/n; I sadly won't be writing a solid sequel but I'll answer your questions, dear anon! not proofread :{

When Viktor and Reader first arrive in Piltover, they almost always have peak awkwardness and pure confusion 😭

You have never stepped on the topside before, only ever looking at it. Y'all have to do a lot of adjusting, and Viktor, of course, has to make sure you don't feel even a bit uncomfortable:)

Just in case you suddenly want out of his plans with you.

Hmm, magical beauty? You don't need magic to be deemed beautiful!! Because you are! And Viktor knows that >:D

However, I suppose that in a sense, maybe you'll be catching attention by your otherworldly spirit. Like, something about you feels off.

I won't be diving into how Viktor feels, that will be in another post (headcanons), but for this one he's mostly concerned about your safety.

As an anomaly, you might get taken away from him at any time. He'd never forgive himself.

Rest assured, though, he'll be doing anything he can to get you back.

NOW ABOUT JAYCE—

Actually the 'friend' I was thinking of in the one shot was Heimerdinger, but Jayce works too—mostly inevitable 😭

You decide to hide it from him, despite Viktor's reasons to not feel afraid. But he respects your wishes.

Jayce feels a bit uncomfortable by your presence sometimes. Why were you even here if you don't know anything? Emotional support for Vik?

Yeah, you're very aware of the fact that you probably look creepy.

Still, those little facts don't stop you and Jayce from being good friends. It has Viktor watching you a tad too intensely sometimes.

Nowadays, you mostly make sure they don't kill themselves from working too much or how dangerous their work was.

Under everything Hextech, with magic marbles, you and Viktor work behind the scenes to better understand your case.

But... after watching them, Jayce specifically, work together... filled with passion too ... (lol)

Maybe it's better to tell Jayce about your abilities after all.

this whole thing is screaming reader-insert LOLOLOL

[threepandas]

Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Part 1/17 (Complete!)

"So please, I beg you - he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine." - J.P.

Summary: Sequel to Můj Miláček - You'd survived, brought Viktor back from the brink of death, but at what cost? You were sure to find out.

Warnings (these will apply for the remainder of the fic, even if not explicitly mentioned in each chapter): Depictions of extensive injuries, blood, and hallucinations.

Masterlist

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you clawed your way towards your goals with hands raw and blistered, it always felt like you were falling short. Not even for the ones you cherished above all else. You were doomed to fail, a broken marionette - strings dripping with Shimmer - who couldn’t play her part, who couldn’t do the one thing she had set out all those years ago to do. 

Save Sky, and save Viktor. It should have been simple. You had seen the future, and you had your magic, unpredictable and stubborn, as it may be, and still, you'd failed. Perhaps that was just another flaw on your part - to be unable to use the tools given to you to any degree of effectiveness - another weakness that prevented you from protecting those you loved. If you’d tried harder, done better, maybe you could have saved them. But Sky had crumbled into dust, and Viktor…

It had only taken two steps out of that dark and dingy cave before he’d stumbled, coughing until blood seeped from the corners of his lips. 

Despite your best efforts to heal him, the illness had only been temporarily delayed. It was like trying to cover a gaping wound with a small bandage; it would take much more than that to ensure proper healing. And yet, there you were, still struggling with your own body's ailments, too weak to do anything more than hobble beside him.

The Shimmer that had bound itself to your veins, to your magic - your very core - managed to patch you up enough to prevent imminent death, to close your wounds into barely healed scars, but the pain was relentless. Like flames licking across your skin, your limbs coursing with white-hot fire. It was a miracle that you could even stand, and as the adrenaline faded and concern for Viktor grew, you were relatively certain the only thing keeping you going was the sheer amount of power you had absorbed - that you had made your own. 

Thick, acrid smog slithered into your lungs as Viktor led you toward the outskirts of the Undercity. Surrounded by decaying buildings and alleyways reeking of decay and filth, it was safest to keep a low profile. While the cloaks you’d borrowed - stolen - from Singed’s lab provided some degree of coverage, it was best to remain hidden while you were both recovering - while Viktor continued to deteriorate. 

“I need to stop for a moment.” You leaned against a cool cement wall, hot pink graffiti tags and chips taken out from years of wear and tear lining the building. The abandoned streets stretched out in front of you, devoid of any signs of life. You had no idea where you were, you’d yet to see anyone else, and from the thickness of the smog, you could understand why. 

From the start, it was clear that neither of you could fully support the other physically. Viktor still relied on his crutch for stability, and your burns made even the thought of someone grazing your left side unbearable. Not to mention the runes from the Hexcore that had carved themselves into your flesh. Even the wall against your shoulders was enough to make your face contort into a pained grimace, until you angled yourself so only your right side touched the surface. 

“It’s only a little further.” Viktor extended his hand, the metallic surface glinting in the dim light. The once-vibrant blue bolts of light that had danced between his fingers had faded and now only faintly flickered at the edges. “I promise, it will be worth it.” 

Too tired for words, you gave a grunt of affirmation, pushing yourself off the wall and accepting his hand. With the renewed determination offered by his touch, you continued towards your destination. 

As promised, it didn't take long for the crumbling facades of abandoned row houses to come into view. Their once vibrant colours were now faded and peeling, like old paint on a weathered canvas. The broken windows gave off a vacant stare, as if the buildings themselves were longing for life to return. You followed Viktor through the narrow alleyways, the stench of decay growing stronger with each step. Viktor led you to a decrepit door, its hinges rusted and creaking from years of neglect. As he pushed it open, the sound echoed throughout the desolate streets, a haunting reminder of what once was.

Inside, a musty scent hung heavy, the kind that clings to the lungs and coats the tongue with a metallic tang. Cobwebs draped corners, thick and undisturbed. Dust danced in the slants of light that pierced the boarded windows, casting eerie shadows that seemed to shift and contort with each breath.

As you stepped further inside, a strange sense of familiarity washed over you. The bare walls, stripped of any hint of life, echoed with each step you took on the squeaking floorboards. The air was stale as if it had been trapped inside for well over a decade. It all stirred something deep within, a memory just beyond your grasp. You ran your fingers along the exposed brick, tracing the worn grooves and indentations as if they might reveal some long-buried secret. Following the path your fingers had set, you walked past what used to be a tiny kitchen, barely recognizable now with its empty shelves and rusted appliances. Heading past the stairs leading to the upper level, you continued into what once must have been a living room. It was empty, save a rotted couch in the far corner, light green wallpaper peeling in strips to expose the crumbling drywall underneath.

As much as you wanted to explore further and unravel the threads of your memory, your body protested every movement, and you no longer had the will to resist. The floor was as comfy a place to rest as any. While your couch back at the Academy had been particularly springy, the couch that occupied the barren living room was entirely springs and a rotted wooden frame. 

But with rest, with your body no longer able to occupy itself with propelling you forward one step at a time, your mind scattered. 

You hadn’t noticed the blood splattering the wall opposite you when you’d first arrived, but as you sank onto the worn floorboards, careful to rest only your uninjured side against the dusty wall, out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the crimson liquid. 

Drip, drip, drip, it echoed through the room, each drop splattering against the floor with a quiet plink. Raining down from a crack in the ceiling, angry lines running out from a fissure, the blood pooled in a grotesque puddle, seeping into the floorboards. Your body froze as you pressed yourself against the wall, your fingers clawing for any kind of grip as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmarish scene. Whose blood was that? It was fresh, the metallic tang of iron and death filled your nostrils, making you gag. It could have filled a large bathtub with the amount that rained down from above, the drip becoming a steady stream before the reality of your situation set in.

Viktor, where was Viktor? Your head whipped around, a whimper ripping itself from your throat as your skin protested the movement with a sharp rake of pain. But you didn’t care, Viktor wasn’t within sight, and the creaking of the ceiling above indicated that someone was slowly walking across it.

Was it Viktor, or had you failed to protect him in your moment of weakness?

Scrambling up and stumbling against the door frame, you found the rickety stairs leading to the second floor. If Viktor had gone up there, how had you not heard him? And yet, unless he’d left the house, there was nowhere but the living room or kitchen for him to go. 

The sound of your ragged breathing curled around your ears like smoke, your hand leaving bloody prints along the railing as you made your way up the stairs. A pounding began at the base of your skull. Had you touched the blood? You couldn’t recall. 

“Viktor.” His name was pulled from your dry mouth in a hoarse gasp as you crested the top of the stairs, your chest heaving with the effort. The landing split off into two small rooms, their doors thrown open invitingly. From your position, you strained to catch a glimpse inside, but the angle made it impossible for you to see beyond the threshold.

Viktor did not respond, and the noxious gas of fear rose in your chest. Stumbling forward on uncoordinated legs, you aimed yourself toward the room where the blood was coming from. Your vision swam as your strength waned, but still, you pushed on, determined and terrified.

Upon making it into the room, you nearly collapsed with relief when you saw Viktor standing at the window, peering out at the streets below. The room itself was bare, the floor clean except for the thick coat of dust that lined every other inch of the house. But as he turned to face you, any consolation you felt evaporated. Viktor, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, his metallic chest gleaming in the low moonlight, was not as unharmed as he had first appeared to be. Blood dripped from his nose, his eyes, his ears, the sides of his mouth, staining his pale skin with streaks of dark red. With a cry of horror, you tripped over your feet in your haste to get to his side. 

His eyes widened at the speed of your approach, of the panic that lay in the tight lines of your face. Your hands outstretched were caught in his, deftly, though he still leaned on his crutch. His mouth moved, but you heard no sound over the rushing white noise in your ears. How was he so calm? Did he not realize he was dying again? Trembling, you released your magic, pale blue light flowing over him and encompassing him in its aura. 

But it did nothing to heal him. 

It never did. 

His lips moved once more, but their words were lost in the deluge of tears that streamed down your face. Your vision blurred as you tried to read his lips, your breathing rapid and broken by hiccups and sobs. The sound of his voice was muffled, like it was coming from underwater, and you strained to make out any meaning behind the garbled sounds.

No! You wanted to scream. I only just lost him, I cannot do it again!

Pushing against his grasp, you felt him soften his hold and allow you to reach for him, to feel the smoothness of his cheek beneath your touch, to wipe your thumb beneath his nose, excepting to find the slickness of blood, only to find…nothing but the soft feel of his skin. 

Blinking hard, you pulled your other hand back to wipe away your tears, salt stinging at your wounds. Your heart throbbed, aching with every beat as you tried to hold back your sobs. 

“Miláček,” his voice was pitched low and gentle, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Your bottom lip quivered, vision blurring as your magic surged out of you and into Viktor. The deafening white noise in your ears slowly faded, and the thick, metallic scent of blood that had filled the air disappeared, as if it had never been there to begin with.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you closed the remaining distance between you. His hands found your uninjured cheek, holding you with a tenderness that could make even the toughest of hearts melt away. “I-I don’t…” A shaky exhale. “I thought you were hurt.”

With a soft sigh that eased the tension from your shoulders - for only a man at peace could make such a sound - he said, “Then it’s a good thing I remain unharmed.” You leaned into his touch, his hand warm against your skin, his pulse beating a steady rhythm. “We should rest; the events of the day have taken a toll on our minds and bodies."

That was an understatement. The last few hours felt like an eternity, as if time had stretched and twisted into a never-ending spiral. In that short span, you’d learned so much, yet not enough.

The carnage had only just begun. 

As you slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, you found yourself cocooned in Viktor's warm embrace. Though your legs were numb and your back ached from the hard floor beneath you, your body burning anew as the throb of your injuries surged to the forefront of your consciousness, the rise and fall of Viktor’s chest beneath your palm had you biting back your pained cry. 

As your eyes fluttered open, the soft light of your magic filled your vision, casting an otherworldly glow around you. Through the haze of your aches and exhaustion, you concluded that the reason you were not screaming and thrashing was the numbing effects of your magic as it rolled over you both, dulling the sharp edges of agony pulsating through you.

Slowly, you raised your head from the hardness of his shoulder, feeling a twinge in your ear from being squished against it all night. But in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor discomfort that hardly registered. In the dim light of the cloudy morning, sunlight filtering through the grimy window, you studied him. His face, tranquil in sleep, looked years younger without the burden of worry creasing into his forehead. His lips parted slightly as he breathed evenly, his hair mused, curling at his nape. Your fingers traced over his chest, shirt torn from where you’d ripped it, feeling the cool metal that had been infused with your own magic to save his life, sparks of energy crackling beneath your touch. Did it hurt him, you wondered. Had you hurt him? 

The Hexcore, pulsating with dark energy, still resided within you. Soraka's powerful magic had sealed it away, but its presence was unmistakable. It sat like a stone lodged in your throat, no amount of swallowing hard could remove it. It clawed and thrashed within its confines, eager to be unleashed and wield its power over others. It had done so to Viktor, hadn’t it? Transformed him into something a little less flesh and blood, a little more mechanical. Or rather, you had done that to him in your frantic attempt to save his life. And already you could feel it fading, feel your work run out of power. You hadn’t known what you were doing, you still didn’t. You possessed innate magical abilities, but Viktor did not - his body relied on the fuel provided by the Hexcore, leaving him vulnerable, and you had locked away the only thing that could give it to him.

Not to mention the six Gemstones worth of power that you had already absorbed, awakening your latent magic and leaving it pulsing through your body, ready to be harnessed and wielded. But even as the potential for greatness coursed through you, so too did the overwhelming burn of magic, like a slippery acid, seeping into every pore and nerve ending. Your body, unable to withstand the intense pressure, had taken upon itself the task of releasing your magic while you slept, desperate to ease the constant urge for more.

“That tickles, Miláček.” Viktor's thumb and forefinger traced the outline of your chin, gently turning your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were hazy with sleep, but a lazy smile still graced his lips. You lingered on the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his jaw, before finally registering what he had said, and the light shake of his chest as he held back laughter. 

Electric blue sparks crackled and danced across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. They playfully jumped onto Viktor, skittering across his chest before disappearing into the crevasses of metal that adorned his body.

“Oh!” You jumped and a fresh wave of sparks burst from you and cascaded over Viktor, eliciting a light and unexpected giggle. You’d never heard such a sound from him before, and while the circumstances were less than ideal, you tucked the memory of it safely away. “I’m so sorry!” 

Inhaling deeply, you willed the sparks to stop, to cease their teasing dance and leave you alone. But they seemed to have a will of their own, and your efforts to control them only seemed to ignite them further. With a renewed energy, they flitted and flickered around you, emitting soft, tinkling laughter that sounded like mischievous pixies at play. Their movements were graceful yet erratic, like a troupe of ballet dancers performing an impromptu routine.  

Viktor laughed, loud and startled, no longer able to hold it back as the tickling increased. It bubbled up from deep within him, spreading through his body like a wildfire, until he couldn't hold it in any longer. His whole frame shook with mirth, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I don’t know how to stop it!” Panic laced your voice, and while you were thankful that it wasn’t hurting him, you were well aware of how quickly your magic could change. 

Trying to speak was a futile endeavour when one was being tickled by hundreds of little sparks, and Viktor made a valiant effort, but it did little in the face of the…magical ticklers? The whole situation was absurd; here you were, running away from Piltover, losing control over your magic, the Hexcore a constant threat, and Viktor…well, you weren’t sure what was happening with him, he was alive, but without the Hexcore, you didn’t how long that would last. Yet, amidst all of that, Viktor was lost in a laughing fit, at the mercy of your magic as it tickled him. 

With great effort, you heaved yourself upright and scooted away from him, your muscles aching and protesting with every movement. It was your only option, to create some space between you. The sparks leaped across the floor, continuing to barrage Viktor with their giggles and tickles. However, as you made it halfway across the room, even the exuberant sparks seemed to have their limits, groaning with high-pitched dismay as they strained to reach Viktor.

“Stop that,” you hissed, swiping your hand through their path. They shrieked as they dispersed, their target no longer in reach, their joy cut off. 

Sitting up, Viktor pressed a hand to his chest, catching his breath and wiping away the remnants of his tears. You grimaced, swatting away the remaining sparks as they bickered their irritation, until all that remained was the silent flow of your pain relief. 

“That was certainly unexpected,” Viktor said when he’d regained his composure, his lips tilted in an amused grin. He didn’t seem to be in pain, despite not having your magic - stuck at a distance as you were - to soothe any aches. 

“I…don’t know what that was.” You pursed your lips, gaze averted. “I’m so sorry.” 

Viktor shook his head, patting down the tuft of hair that stuck up at the back like a ducktail. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m capable of withstanding some tickling.”

“It’s not just that,” you argued, “I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control my own magic. This time I didn’t hurt you, but what if next time I do?”

With a sigh, Viktor pushed himself up to stand, and began making his way towards you. Scrambling to get away, you scooted yourself farther back. “No, no, no, wait! They could come back!”

“Eh,” Viktor shrugged, making no move to heed your warning. “Then I will be at their mercy again.”

Your back hit the wall, and you had nowhere else to go. Before you could find an exit, he was kneeling in front of you, his left knee clanking against the ground.

“May I?” His skin and bone hand hovered just over your cheek. His face was so open in its vulnerability, in his concern, as he leaned

in close to you; knees pulled tight against your chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, thick and lodged in your throat, swallowing around the Hexcore. 

“You will not.” He said it with such unwavering certainty, such conviction, you could find no room to argue. 

You took a shaky breath, and slowly, like you were taking a tentative step into an overheated bathtub, you leaned your cheek against his awaiting palm. 

And your magic stayed put, it didn’t lash out, didn’t roll through his body like it did yours. You didn’t hurt him. 

The tension in your legs eased, allowing them to fall loosely around his body as he drew nearer. His sturdy knees nestled comfortably beneath your thighs, bringing you closer together.

“See,” his thumb brushed across your skin and you sighed your content, “I was correct.”

Your hand overlapped his as you nuzzled your face into his palm. “No need to gloat,” you said with no real irritation. 

He chuckled, but said nothing, simply giving you time to breathe, to calm the fractured plains of your mind as his thumb continued to swipe across your cheek. 

“Where are we?” you asked after a minute. You’d meant to ask last night, but your exhaustion and terror had gotten the better of you. The kitchen had seemed strangely familiar, but try as you might you couldn’t place it. 

Viktor looked around the room, tenderness in the upward tilt of his brow. “My childhood home. I moved to the Academy shortly after my parents passed, but even by that time, the neighbourhood was already thinning. The Grey was worse here than in other places, the ventilation system never worked as well on the outskirts. I didn’t think I would ever be back here.” 

You were at a loss for how to respond. Your mind raced with questions - should you offer your condolences for his parents? He had never explicitly mentioned their deaths, but it had been clear from his demeanour on the rare occasion that they were brought up, that they were no longer alive. Or perhaps you should validate his decision to leave, to escape The Grey that had most likely been the cause of his declining health. Maybe both actions were necessary, or maybe neither would suffice. Should you simply pat him on the shoulder like you were an emotionally stunted adult trying to console a child?

“You don’t have to say anything.” Had you said that all aloud or had he simply guessed where your thoughts had headed? “I don’t want to be troubled by the past, not when I have you here right now.” 

Such a simple statement had such a profound effect on your battered heart. Like the leech you were, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and tugging him close. The sharp sting of your burns was nothing compared to the warmth spreading from his touch. His hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, sighing into your hair as you tucked your face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent - a mix of pine and the metallic tang of steel. It was slightly different than how he used to smell, just like the hardness of his partially metal body, but it didn't change anything about how you felt. You loved him, had loved him for years - permeating through your soul like it had always belonged there. 

Your hands tightened their grip on his back. “How are you feeling?” Your voice was muffled against him, but loud enough to be heard. 

“I should be asking you the same.” 

A dismissal, an attempt to divert your attention from what he knew would upset you. But even though you were exhausted in both body and spirit, you were not so easily distracted from his health. 

You pinched his metal chest harmlessly, like squeezing the corner of a table between your fingers. “I asked you first.” 

You felt him smile against the top of your head. “I see your stubbornness has not been affected.” 

“Nor yours,” you shot back, earning you a hum of agreement. 

“I am…” he began, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, his fingers scraping along your scalp. “Alive. Though I feel my strength waning, it is too soon to tell if this is simply a result of the power you poured into my body stabilizing, or something worse.”

You bit your lip, the tangy taste of blood rising to your tongue. It wasn’t too soon for you, your magic screamed at you that this decline would continue, that without the Hexcore he would only become weaker and weaker until—

“Milá, you have provided me with more time than I ever would have had without you.” He couldn’t possibly know that for certain, without you maybe he would have found a cure, would have been able to use the Hexcore properly to cure his illness. “And most importantly, I have more time with you.” 

You lifted your face towards his, meeting his gaze as he looked down at you, lovingly, like you were worth all the pain and trouble. You weren’t entirely so sure, but you melted into him all the same, powerless to resist. His hand returned to your cheek, his eyes trailing over your injuries, a crease forming between his brows. 

“Your wounds are healing, but as I avoided your inquiry, you have avoided mine.” 

You huffed, licking the blood off your lips as subtly as possible, though his gaze flickered to the movement of your tongue and you doubted he had missed it. “I don’t really know how to answer. I feel…like I’m hanging on by a thread, like one strong gust will blow me over and my magic will take my place and control me. I’m afraid, but also, I’m beyond grateful that I am here with you, that I…get to love you for longer.”

You hadn’t talked about anything that had happened between you in that cave. You hadn’t addressed the confessions or the way you’d melded together and kissed him with desperation. Nervousness churned in your gut as you spoke your love for him aloud in the dim light of day, wondering if he could still feel the same way despite how your magic had already displayed defiance, how you looked without the shadows to hide your burned skin. You met his gaze, and that doubt faded away like a distant memory.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosted across your lips. “As am I, Miláček.” 

Viktor leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours in a feather-light caress. You tilted your chin up in silent invitation, inviting him closer. His gaze dropped to your parted lips and he let out a soft, shuddering exhale.

And finally, his lips pressed against yours with a tender urgency that stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth was a gentle flame, spreading through your body and melting you from the inside out. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his soft hair, the strands silken between your fingertips. As he deepened the kiss, Viktor's metal hand slid around to cradle the back of your head while the other firmly gripped your waist.

You melted into his solid frame, feeling every inch of him pressed against you. Your hands slid up his chest until your fingers curled around the back of his neck. The thrumming pulse of his changed body resonated through you, a steady drumbeat in time with your wildly racing heart.

You lost yourself in the languid dance. All the fear, the pain, the uncertainty faded into the background until there was only this – only him and the reverent way his mouth worshipped yours.

Despite the unknowns of what the future held and the daunting task of finding a solution to Viktor's decline, you knew that you were not alone. You would figure it out together. 

Next Chapter

A/N: YAYYY!!! So excited to be back writing these two, I've missed them so much :') I hope you enjoyed some silly Viktor, he was sorely missing in this season, but don't worry, there is plenty more where that came from! I'd also written this scene before they came out with his new league skin that gets tickled by his robot arm - I love that I am on the same page as his writers lol.

Let me know what you think and any predictions for how you think its gonna go! I'd be super interested to hear them :) And as always, thank you for reading!!

I'll be posting another chapter hopefully later this week/weekend so stay tuned!

If I’m missing any warnings, please let me know!

Join us on Discord here

[thegnomelord]

What about Monster!AU for prompt 5. Male reader and price please :)

Sure thing anon, made it a mage reader again, was trying to study for a 'lovely' surprise test but inspiration decided to strike me :/. Play the game HERE

Prompt: “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot.”

CW:NSFW, switch/power bottom Dragon Price, Male Mage reader, Oral, Anal, shower sex, semi public sex, reader is oblivious for a bit.

Price swears his hair and scales are going to go completely gray because of you.

You've been avoiding him for a week now, and all the base knows why — Price can still hear your desperate voice begging and bargaining with whatever will listen "I'll buy you dinner please-just stay alive- I love you- damn it you slimy bastard don't you dare die on me-" as you try to keep him alive, magic flowing from your arms to heal the gaping hole in his side despite the bullets raining overhead; a valiant knight protecting him like he's a prince instead of a dragon.

And Price can remember the way his heart had fluttered at your words, at the way you had hugged him so firmly to keep him safe as your magic raged all around you like a wild force of nature, at the way you looked at him so tenderly— eyes burning with mana like the gaze of a god he's your most prized possession —right before the blood loss made him black out.

But now that Price was out of the hospital, his side permanently marked with your magic and a hefty load of paperwork on his desk, you were acting like you never said anything. Anytime someone brings it up you just ignore them, ignore him, throwing yourself into training as much as you can. And it's getting on his nerves, his draconic blood making anger and malcontent burn in his bones because you'd looked at him like a mate but now it's like he doesn't exist beyond training and missions.

He knows it's against the rules, knows he shouldn't hope for much when he sets out to find you, but he does. It's not hard; though his sensitive nose easily picks up the stench of magic, it's the lingering mana burrowed into his skin that tugs him in a direction, even the foreign parts of him wanting you. He finds you alone in the training room, the ground around you scorched beyond hell.

"We need ta' talk lad." Price rumbles as he closes the door behind him, the deep thrum of his voice hiding the anxious pressure he feels in his chest.

Your head whips to look at him. Price cherishes the way your eyes soften when you see him like a glittering gem. Then a sea of ice settles over your eyes, and you turn your head back to the target dummy as if looking at Price makes you sick. "Nothing to talk about captain."

"That so?" Price asks like he doesn't believe you, because he doesn't. Ancient instincts tug on his mind and he follows them. You know he knows what's plaguing your mind, both of you are aware of the elephant in the room and Price can see the way your shoulders progressively tense as he draws near. But you're a stubborn fool, you refuse to show how his presence makes your heart beat faster despite how each of his steps rings like a gunshot in your ears.

Your mind fails to conjure up words but you force an "Hmh," out of your throat, trying to ignore how Price is so close to you, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His remaining wing stretches out, scales and leathery membranes barely brushing over your shoulder, but the intent is clear; the claim is clear.

You try to ignore him, ignore yourself, clinging to the sensation of your sharp mana digging into your veins as you summon another bout of magic to shoot at the training dummy, whisps of formless energy quickly forming into your preferred element.

His hand settles on your hip, not enough to make you loose focus just yet. "Because last ah remember," He leans in closer, the smell of black coffee and cigars on his breath. This close he can smell you instead of your magic, his chest rumbling against your back with a happy purr. "you promised me dinner if I lived."

You nearly choke on air, your magic sputtering out like an old car engine. "I-" You whirl around, your noses almost touching from how close you are. "-that's not what I'd meant!"

His heart should break at that, but before it can his sensitive ears pick up how rapidly your heart's pounding in your chest, reptilian eyes noting how you're flushed more than usual, breathing rapidly without even noticing it.

"Really now?" That greedy part in his bones urges him on, begging and pleading for him to just take you. His other hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you in place, close to him just like he wants. "Then ah suppose all that 'bout me bein' a slimy bastard was also not true?"

You want to flinch away but can't, your own body a traitor to you, a deep frown tugging on your lips. "Price, I wasn't-"

"And-" He cuts you off by leaning even closer, his forehead resting against yours and fuck, your head fits perfectly between his horns, like you belong there. "-I must've misheard you when you said you loved me?" He raises an eyebrow, voice both teasing and serious, holding his breath.

Just that small contact of skin on skin has your resolve crumbling like sand, "Listen, just-" You suck in a sharp breath, the situation both bliss and hell for you. “My feelings aren’t real and my heart’s a fucking idiot. Okay? And just-" You try to stammer the same lies you'd tell yourself every time you'd catch yourself thinking of him more than just your captain (which was way too often).

Price's clawed hand grips your chin and manually closes your mouth, his smooth scales cool against your warm body. You forget to breathe, your eyes flickering all over his face as he smirks, voice deep and guttural like the rumble of moving tectonic plates. "Then I'm an idiot too."

The world goes completely silent as he kisses you, holding your head still so he can claim your lips for himself, his deep purr shaking both of your chests when you submit so easily to him, like getting a gulp of fresh air after years of drowning.

You're so lost in his taste and his scent and just him you don't notice when Price roughly pulls you into the showers, tail and wing and arms holding your body; as if your brain could even conjure the thought of leaving. Bursts of awareness assault your mind every time you part for a breath and to displace a piece of clothing, his sharp claws tickling your skin as he can't wait and just cuts through your remaining clothes.

Clawed fingers grip your hair and tilt your head back, exposing your throat to sharp fangs and you submit easily, trusting him not to hurt you too much. Low sounds rumble in your throat as Price marks you, biting one spot until it bleeds your mana rich blood, greedily drinking up the crimson droplets and soothing the wound with his tongue just enough for the sting to become pleasant before biting again. Bite, lick, bite, lick, bite, lick— chest rumbling with satisfaction he pulls away, "Oh, look at you," He growls, your throat turned into a warzone, "So handsome, like a charming knight."

You snort and grip his hips, the water of the shower raining down the two of you. "Yeah?" You ask as you turn him around, pushing his chest against the wall as you drop to your knees. "Gonna let me lay you?" You ask, kissing down his spine, your rough hands groping and fondling his ass.

"Wanker," Price growls and lifts his tail, revealing his hole to you. You almost cum on the spot from the sight of it, looking every bit what you'd imagined he'd look like. But you don't get to look for long before his tail wraps around your throat, soft underbelly scales scraping against your bruised throat as he pulls you closer. "Only, if you prove your worth."

You don't need a formal invitation, pushing your tongue out as you slobber all over his hole, your hands keeping his asscheeks spread so you can worm your tongue into his hole, feeling him clench around your tongue, his moans ringing like angel song in your ears. His claws tangle in your hair, pushing your head even closer to worship him better. And you do, like a pious believer you lick and suck and nibble around his hole, your nose buried in the space between his ass and tail, barely able to breathe but it's a small price to pay.

Finally he grows greedy for more, his tail releases a fraction and he shoves you, making you fall back on your ass, your cock standing like a flagpole. You only manage to rise up on your elbows before Price jumps on you like the beast he is, thigh powerful thighs bracketing your own, his clawed fingers scraping against your skin as they settle on your shoudlers.

"Now then," Price rumbles like an ancient mountain, reptilian eyes hooded with lust. He feels on top of the world with the way you look at him, like a desperate mutt, your cock hard like a rock between his legs. "Stay still, mighty knight, an-" Price lifts himself up, positioning your cockhead at his puckered rim. "-relax."

The running water muffles your combined groans, his walls hot and tight like the fire in his chest. His weight bears down on you, wing stretching out in a show of pleasure, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants. "Fuck," Price growls, grinding his hips down into yours. "Feel so good, lad."

You grunt, your hands fitting on his hips like they always belonged there. Magic sparks across your arms as pleasure steadily erases your ability to think, but his thick scales keep him safe, a pleased groan leaving his chest as he starts bouncing on you, chasing his own pleasure. You can do nothing but hang on, your hips rising to meet his downward thrust, Price's lips swallowing your moans. You don't have enough sense in your head left to care if anyone was to come in and see you, your mind fully consumed by him.

You cum way too soon, your orgasm sneaking up to you, lightning rushing down your spine and magic sparking across your arms as your brain leaks out of your ears, shooting cum up into his greedy walls.

"Good- good lad." Price grinds his teeth, never stopping his bouncing, lewd sounds ringing through the showers from the way your cum squelches inside him. He rides you past the sting of overstimulation right back to hardness. His hand grabs yours, placing it over the scars on his abdomen where your magic had stitched him back together, greed and lust fueling his desires. "Protected me so good, yeah?" His hips never cease moving, that draconic endurance coming in handy to absolutely wrecking you. "Let me take care of you,"

And like a proper mate, you let him do as he pleases.

[vrachis]

knocking up a cicin mage while shes on duty😛

gosh….

just being with her in those tents and having her in your arms, lifting her up and down onto your cock, treating her as some sort of cock sleeve 🙁

she’s begging for you to stop because some of her colleagues have another camp nearby and she fears the risk of getting caught. but with the way she’s being extremely loud, the chances of the both of you getting caught are high. you laugh to yourself at the realization and pound away into your girl’s cunt, with no intent of stopping any time soon.

her on the other hand, she feels each part of her sanity slipping away. you’re thrusting so deep into her, and she can’t help but succumb to the pleasure; to surrender to you.

and when you empty your seed inside her once again, you stay in place, hips spasming as you spurt all your worth into her. with the amount of times you’ve done this within that cycle of the day, your success of knocking of her up is guaranteed.