#muse: Hourglass | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bruhstories · 22 days ago

Text

Muse III

p.1 && p.2

minors dni

summary: one way or another, the inevitable happens - circumstances force you to talk to viktor

pairing: viktor x painter!reader

warnings: some angst, swearing, super slow burn, p with plot?? unprotected p in v, kind of creampie, reader on top, fluff, comfort, afab!reader with she/her pronouns, some mentions of y/n (i think maybe once), canon divergent, bickering and banter

w/c: 6k...

a/n: there we go, the series is now complete! i do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! liking and reblogging are encouraged! thank you for being on this journey with me haha

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The constant ticking of the clock irked Viktor and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The downside of becoming a professor were the exams — sitting down, waiting, wasting hours was unproductive. He could've taught, could've researched, could've experimented with new elements. Instead, he was stuck in a classroom with a handful of students who looked like they were about to shit themselves.

And then there was you. In the back of the room, watching said students like a hawk, circling them like a predator, like you wanted to catch at least one of them cheating. He hadn't spoken to you since the academic year started — two months and two weeks, to be precise.

Viktor tapped his cane, impatiently counting the minutes until the exam was over. It felt like an eternity, watching the sand in the hourglass flowing ever so slowly. The thought of counting each particle of sand amused him. It probably would've been the most productive thing in the past hour.

The sudden noise of a book being dropped caught his attention. Viktor got up from his chair, but you were already at the source. Some little shit thought he could cheat his way through the semester, but not with you there.

"Get out." You told the student, your rigid voice reverberating in the classroom.

"Professor, please-"

"Get out of my classroom." You repeated, eyes burning holes into the poor student's head.

Trembling with fear, he gathered his belongings, tripping on his way out. You just knew the gossip that would start around the campus about you being a bitch, a horrible teacher, the worst he'd ever seen. But you only had one single rule — no cheating. That was it. You allowed your students to eat during your lessons, to call you by your first name, to approach you with any issues they had, whether academic or not. But you did not tolerate cheating.

No one dared to move until the end of the exam, and even Viktor was shaken by your hostility. He remembered you so differently, still visualising how you knelt between his legs to take off his brace, and how sweet your scent used to be whenever you visited him in the laboratory. But now you built metaphorical walls around yourself, changed your clothes, your hair, even your perfume — jasmine, bergamot, musk. Anything but sweet. And Viktor couldn't help but blame himself for that.

The grandfather clock in the classroom struck once, and every single student put their quills down. No one wanted to get on your bad side. Still watching them intently from the back of the classroom, they gathered their belongings quietly and placed their papers on Viktor's desk on their way out. With the last student out, you walked up to the desk and counted half of the papers, stacking them in a separate pile.

"Can we talk?" Viktor caved in. He couldn't stand seeing you like that anymore.

"Here's your stack of exams." You ignored his question. "I'll mark my part, then drop them off at your lab once I'm done. Tomorrow or the day after."

"Of course. I shall try to finish them as quickly as-" He watched you leave, hips swaying as you walked out the door without even saying goodbye. "-possible."

There was no denying that Viktor found your attitude insufferable, albeit it being his fault. He misunderstood you, he got that now. But you refused to give him a chance to explain himself, to apologise, and that drove him mad. The worst part? He couldn't blame you. You basically saved his life, and he repaid you with disdain. Viktor would've probably done the same if the roles were reverse, really.

You walked back to your apartment with the papers neatly organised in a leather bag, careful not mix them with other files and textbooks. The air was getting colder, winter was approaching, and you rushed to get home before the wind froze you to death. You appreciated the warmth of your apartment more than ever, and began marking the papers as soon as you took off your coat and boots.

Thinking back at how you reacted when you caught that boy cheating, you began to consider it might have been too harsh. He still had the chance to retake the exam in summer, but you scared him shitless, you could see that in his eyes. And you didn't want to be the bad professor. You didn't want Viktor to be the good one. The mere idea of him being loved by students while you were hated by them made you cringe.

No, you needed a different approach, one that wouldn't compromise your position at the Academy, or your title of Master of Arts. You needed to kill them, and especially Viktor, with kindness. But you only had two options to be able to do that. You could tell Viktor you got over whatever happened in the lab last year, which was unlikely that he would believe you, or you could actually talk to him about whatever happened in the lab last year, which was highly improbable of you to do.

Okay, so maybe being a spiteful bitch was the way to move forward, only it wouldn't work on the long run. Not when the exams were half science, half arts, and you needed to speak to Viktor about them. Or when the curriculum needed to be revised, and you needed to speak to Viktor about that, too. Or when there were staff meetings, or half term parties, or social gatherings.

The bottom line was that, one way or another, you would end up in a situation which required you to speak to him more than just hellos and goodbyes, and the longer you avoided him, the harder your life would be. And what could you even say? Sorry? Fuck no. Viktor was supposed to apologise, not you.

True to your word, like you had always been, you visited the lab to drop off the papers. Some things stayed the same — same doors, same walls, same floors. But there was something new within the laboratory, something you did not expect. A woman.

She smiled at you, a sickening sweet smile that made you gag, but out of politeness, you nodded, acknowledging her presence. Her tight curls were neatly gathered in a top bun, and she pushed back her half-moon glasses that hid the freckles on her cheeks.

"Hi." You clutched the exam papers at your chest. "Is Viktor here? I need to give him something. "

"He should be back any minute now. I can give him whatever it is you need." She still smiled.

"No, I can wait."

Why? Why did you say that? You could've given her the damn papers and left. You and your stupid mouth. Silence echoed in the lab as you shifted your weight from one leg to another, impatiently glancing at the door in the hopes that Viktor arrived sooner. She, on the other hand, tidied up the place, careful to not throw away anything useful, organising tools and materials that belonged to him. You knew Viktor didn't like it when others touched his stuff, so why was she just casually picking things up like she lived there?

"And you are?" The words came out before you could stop them.

"Oh, silly me, where are my manners?" She shook her head and walked towards you, a hand reached out to shake yours. "Sky Young. I'm Viktor and Jayce's assistant."

"Assistant?" You nodded, stunned by the newfound information. Since when did Viktor need an assistant? "Y/N Y/L/N, Master of Arts." You shook her hand, gripping it a little too tight for her own liking.

"Ah, you're the painter who saved Viktor's life!" Sky looked at you in awe. "I used to be his nurse. Whatever you did baffled the medical community! I became his assistant to help around, but to study him as well."

Study him? You studied him for your portrait, that didn't earn you a spot in his lab. Why was she any better?

"How... nice." The fake smile on your lips betrayed the jealousy in your heart. "On second thought, you can give him these papers. There's no need for me to be here."

"Are you sure? Vik should be here any minute now." Sky's nod of encouragement only added fuel to your desire to leave.

Vik?? They were on a nickname basis now? Bullshit, she wasn't just his assistant.

"I'm sure. I need to prepare the lectures for next term anyway. I don't suppose you know if he finished marking his part of the papers?" You kept your cool.

"He did, actually! Let me get them for you." The girl rushed into an annex of the lab and came back with the stack of exams.

You took a quick look through them to make sure they were all marked, so you wouldn’t need to come back, and shoved them in your bag.

"Thanks."

"No problem! What you are doing is groundbreaking! If there's anything I can assist with, please let me know!" Sky smiled.

Okay, you got it — she was nice and you weren't. Was that how she got under Viktor's skin? By being insufferably nice and sweet? It didn't matter. She was there, in the lab, working with him. And you? You went back to your apartment, alone and upset.

Viktor spent his holiday revising the curriculum for the next term. While Sky was a brilliant assistant, she could be quite overwhelming sometimes. He learned his lesson about not assuming that anyone who treated him with an ounce of respect wanted to secretly mock him, but he forgot about boundaries. As a consequence, Sky waltzed into his lab every day, talking, singing, bringing him food, coffee, tea — Viktor took your silence for granted. He missed that.

He missed you.

Snow crunched under his feet, each step heavier than the previous one. Viktor should've known better than to go to the Academy during a blizzard, but he needed to return a few books back to the library and to write down the grades in the register. Sky offered to do that for him, but there were personal details about his students that she wasn't allowed to see.

He locked the back door to the staff entrance once he was inside the Academy, wiped the snow off his brace and boots, and walked straight to the library. It was hauntingly quiet and dark, and although he appreciated silence, the empty hallways of the University gave him anxiety. Viktor was a rational man, he knew there was nothing there, but the lack of students and staff simply sent a chill down his spine.

With the books returned, he traversed the library and walked downstairs to the staffroom. He would have to write down the grades quickly — the blizzard was getting worse, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in an empty University for who knows how long. It would be ironic, poetic even, to die of starvation in a place where he starved for knowledge.

The door to the staffroom was ajar, and the lights were on. Strange, he didn't think anyone else was there. Not in this weather, anyway. Pushing the door open with his cane, Viktor froze on the spot when he saw you sitting down, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, forehead creased as you copied the grades into the register. He would never get another opportunity like that. He needed to finally clear things out with you.

"Hello-"

The wooden chair fell to the floor as you recoiled in fear, one hand on your thumping heart. You sighed in relief when you saw Viktor standing in the doorframe, the panic stronger than the hate you held for him.

"For fuck's sake, Viktor." You grabbed the chair to put it back in its place and sit down. "You scared the shit out of me."

He wasn't used to your colourful vocabulary, not when you posed as an elegant, educated professor. But he couldn't deny the joy it brought him to hear you say his name.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." Viktor propped himself on his cane.

"No, it's fine. What are you doing here?" Averting your gaze, you looked down at the register.

"I came to return some books and register the grades. I see you're doing the same."

"Yes, well, no rest for the wicked, I suppose." You shrugged. "Why in this awful weather, though?"

"I thought you'd do it when the term started and I didn't want you to feel obliged to speak to me then." Viktor said.

Ouch. His words made you feel horrible. You had been horrible to him. It was a deserved jab at your behaviour and attitude.

"I can come back later-"

"Don't." You almost launched yourself across the table. "You walked all this way in a snow storm, don't leave because of me. If anything, I should leave."

"Eeh, we've both been pricks." Viktor shrugged.

There it was, the crucial, inevitable conversation you dreaded for so long. The one that kept you up at night and stopped you from functioning. The one that would make or break you.

"Listen, Viktor, I-"

"I'm sorry." He cut you off. Taking advantage of your shock, Viktor pulled a chair and sat down, his leg hurting too much to stand. "There's no excuse for the way I reacted, but you must understand that I haven't met a lot of people who genuinely wanted what was best for me. Most people either mocked me or pitied me for my disability. No one really saw past that, with very few exceptions, like Jayce or Heimerdinger."

Shit, you didn't think about why he reacted the way he did. You just assumed he had a god complex and thought your art wasn't comparable to his science. You really took it the wrong way, and drowned him in pettiness and loathing. How could you not think he must've been bullied his whole life? Just because you saw past his illness didn't mean others did. Oh, you were an idiot.

"You don't need to apologise, I need to. I just thought you considered art to be beneath science, and by extension that I was beneath you." You cringed at your own ignorance.

"Why would I ever think that?"

"I don't know, I've been stupid, alright?" You scoffed. "I'm sorry, Viktor. Peace?"

"Peace. Do you mind if I register these exams? That snow storm looks terrible and I’d like to finish before it gets worse." He took out the papers from his bag.

"Not at all! I'll make us some tea, it's bloody cold in here."

When you turned on the stove, Viktor dragged his chair next to yours, and your heart skipped a beat. Rationally, you knew he did it so you could both access the register, but the idea of sitting so close to him gave you heart palpitations. You stirred the honey in his tea, and you smiled to yourself at the memory of you doing the same thing a year ago, when you were in his lab. Who knew you would do it again?

"There you go." You placed two mugs on the table and sat down.

The scent of roses, cinnamon and vanilla filled his nostrils, and Viktor couldn't think anymore. It was the same perfume you wore when you spent time in the laboratory, when you put all your blood, sweat and tears into his portrait. He wondered if wore the other perfume, the one that didn't suit you as much, just to spite him? No. Surely you weren't that petty. But if you did, it stroked his ego to know you cared so much. And just like you did in the lab, you jotted down the grades in complete silence, both of you focused, and so close to one another. It felt normal, and he realised how much he needed your presence around him.

Between writing and sipping tea, you occasionally glanced at Viktor's profile, and it sparked something within you — a burning desire to sketch. He didn't know, but you finished registering the exams a while back, and reached out for a pencil and a scrap piece of paper. Your other hand shielded the lines and circles that began to take shape and look more like him, and as inconspicuous as you tried to be, it was futile.

"I know you're drawing me."

"Damn it!" You huffed.

The staffroom echoed with your laughter, and how could you not laugh? It was such an innocent moment between the two of you that both you and Viktor found it amusing. You really couldn't stop yourself from drawing him — your muse. But all good things had to come to an end, and Viktor finished writing down the last grade in the register. You didn't know why, but the idea of having to go home left you feeling hurt.

You walked with him down the dim hallway and unlocked the back door, but were unable to open it. Something was in its way. Viktor looked out the window, amber eyes wide in genuine panic. When he didn't say anything, you scoffed and moved in his way to try and look outside, but you couldn't see anything but white. The thick snow was blocking the door. You were effectively stuck. One more push, and the door didn’t budge. Another push, and you hurt yourself more than you moved the door.

"Well, looks like we're going to have to dig our way home." You mused.

"You're joking. We'll freeze to death!" Viktor leaned again the window for support.

"I don't see you coming up with a better idea, Mr. Scientist."

"Oh, and digging through snow was your master plan?" He snorted. "I'm sure me and my leg are going to make it back home safely."

"What would you rather do, then, if you're so clever?" You folded your arms across your chest. "Go on, genius."

"We can just... wait for it to end." Viktor pondered. It was definitely better than going out in the cold, and you hated to admit that he was right.

"Ugh, fine. But it's getting late and it doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon. We need to find a place to sleep in."

"My office has a sofa. I can sleep on the floor." He suggested and you stared at him in shock and disbelief.

"Office? You have an office? All I got was a fucking closet."

"Well, I was the Dean's assistant." Viktor chuckled.

You didn't reply, for fear of saying something you might regret later, and instead huffed, puffed and stomped up the stairs, trailing behind Viktor like a lost puppy. That part of the University was foreign to you, and you stopped to examine the portraits of some members of staff — Professor Heimerdinger had one, Jayce had one, Viktor had one, but whoever painted it couldn't capture his real grace.

"Hm, I could do this with my eyes closed." You judged the technique, the colours, the proportions. It was a fantastic portrait, it just missed Viktor's essence.

"Is it not up to your standards, Miss Painter?" He tapped his cane. You got the hint and carried on walking.

"No, the painting itself is fine, but it didn't do justice to your beauty." You said with so much nonchalance that it made Viktor short of breath.

Did you really think that about him? You probably meant it as a painter — most artists found beauty in ugliness, or in the mundane. But there was no possible way you meant it as a woman, not when you were so perfect and he was so broken.

Viktor stopped in front of an oak door with a thin tinted window in the middle of it. He pulled out a set of keys, all of them identical, but he knew exactly which one unlocked his office. Curiosity got the better of you, and with inquisitive eyes, you began examining his study. The first thing that caught your attention was the bearskin rug on the floor. A bit distasteful, you thought, but it looked soft enough to sleep on it. In front of you was a brown velvet sofa, and to your right was a fireplace. The mantle was decorated with trophies from competitions and a picture of Viktor and Jayce, which brought a smile to your face.

On the other side of the office, across the fireplace, was his desk — a few papers were scattered on it, but otherwise it was tidy — and behind it were a bookcase and a wardrobe.

"What's there?" You asked, head tilted towards a door.

"The shower."

"You have a shower, too? I'm sorry, do you live here, fancy pants?" Your reaction to his answer made Viktor chuckle, but he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for that.

"Eeh, Professor Heimerdinger found that some of us spent so much time buried in work that he had showers and toilets installed. They're powered by hextech, so regardless of the weather, there's hot water. Feel free to use it if you want." He shrugged, hanging his coat by the back of his desk chair.

"There's only one problem, Mr. Scientist. I don't have any spare clothes." You saw the grin on his lips. "Don't tell me you have that, too."

"Plenty of clean shirts in the wardrobe. Please help yourself to one." Viktor nodded.

"Wouldn't your girlfriend mind if I wore your clothes?" The hint of jealousy in your voice betrayed your nonchalance.

"Girlfriend?" He looked at you dumbfounded. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Come on. Pretty girl with glasses and freckles and a sickeningly sweet smile? Sky?"

"Ah, Miss Young!" Viktor remembered. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but she's not my girlfriend."

It did not disappoint you at all. In fact, it made you hopeful. You weren't sure what you were hoping for, but it felt as though a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders to know that Viktor wasn't involved with Sky.

"Very well. I shall take that offer, then. A shower will warm me up." You walked up the wardrobe and examined the collection of identical shirts. "I suggest you do the same, you shouldn't stay cold." You chose a top that looked a little bigger than the rest, as you didn't want it to be too tight and uncomfortable around your chest.

"I'll start a fire for us, then. The office should warm up by the time you're finished." Viktor dragged his feet to the fireplace.

You thanked him and entered the bathroom, searching through cabinets and drawers for a clean towel. You found one and brought it to the shower, then stripped down and let the hot water clean your body. There was nothing wrong in what you were doing, right? You were two professors stuck in a university until the snow storm settled down. Nothing wrong with taking a shower. Nothing wrong with scrubbing your skin with his body wash. Nothing wrong with drying yourself with his towel. Nothing wrong with wearing his shirt. It was just a professional predicament, nothing more, nothing less.

Gathering your belongings, you exited the bathroom, tugging at the hem of the shirt to cover your thighs. It was shorter than you had hoped, but you knew Viktor was an honourable man. He understood the situation you were both in and it wasn't as though he would jump your bones. Mostly because he didn't like you, and while that comforted you, it hurt your ego. He was an attractive man, and his mind was complex and intriguing — of course you had certain feelings for him. You didn't entirely understand those feelings — respect, admiration, adoration, leftover spite. It was an amalgam of emotions and you didn't have time to process them because you spent a whole year being a bitch.

Viktor's heart throbbed when he saw you awkwardly pull down his shirt to expose less skin, even if it was to no avail. He pretended not to notice your bare thighs and how tight his shirt was around your chest, the buttons barely keeping your breasts from spilling out of it. He poked the fire instead, and you walked around the desk in the hopes that it would cover your lower body.

"I don't suppose you have a blanket I could cover myself with."

"I only have one blanket." Viktor said, back facing you to give you privacy. "Top shelf in the wardrobe. You can use it tonight, I'll sleep in my coat."

"Absolutely not." You stretched, tiptoeing to reach the shelf and he could not stop his head from turning, eyes darting at the shirt that did nothing to cover your lace underwear as you struggled to grab the blanket. "We'll sleep on the rug, back-to-back."

If Viktor didn't know any better, he would've thought you did everything you could to get closer to him. But that was just his imagination. He had no chance to be with you, and understood you were only trying to protect him from the cold. You snatched the blanket and wrapped it around your body, and while it irked him that he couldn't see the skin he would never touch, Viktor found the way you looked all snuggled up to be adorable. It was a stark contrast from the heartless mask you wore for so long.

He left to take a shower, and you guarded the fireplace, cast iron poker in one hand like some knight of flames. The blizzard wasn't getting any better, and the darkness of the night coupled with the snow made it impossible to tell when it would stop. One thing was certain — you were grateful you brought food, and enough for both you and Viktor. Who knew how long you would be stuck there for? Surely Jayce would come looking for Viktor considering he wouldn't be in his lab any time soon.

A great friend he was, you thought. Not just to Viktor, but to you, too. It was Jayce who forced you to draw again, who managed to get you out of the house and who brought some sort of stability in your life. You should thank him at some point. Him and Mel. Things were somewhat back to normal, and it wasn't because of you, but because of them and Viktor.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, Viktor walked into his office, wearing only a pair of loose linen trousers that barely clung to his waist. Beads of water glistened on his pale chest and a few strands of wet hair stuck to his flushed cheeks. You assumed he would put a shirt on, but instead he crawled on the bearskin rug, wincing at the pain caused by his leg, even if it wasn't as bad as it used to be.

You reached out for the leather strap of your bag and pulled it into your lap, taking out the bread you baked that very morning. Breaking it in two, you offered one half to Viktor, who eagerly took it.

"We make a good team, don't you think?" He said and you looked at him with inquisitive eyes. "I provide shelter, you provide food."

"We even make a whole outfit together. You have the pants, I have the shirt." You joked and Viktor rolled his eyes at your attempt of a joke, but his smile was there.

With food in your bellies and the fire dying down, you lied on your back and pulled the blanket over you and Viktor. You could still vaguely distinguish the patterns on the ceiling in the dim light — leaves and vines, flowers and curved lines.

"Back-to-back, yeah?" You told him, turning on your side.

"Yes." Viktor murmured, doing the same.

In the silence of the night, he could hear his own heart pumping blood through his veins. Viktor could've sworn he heard your hear beat, frantically thumping against your ribcage, but he blamed it on his imagination again. You were probably sound asleep, dreaming the sweetest dreams.

You weren't sleeping, you were staring into the darkness of his office, eyes wide and refusing to stay closed. There wasn't an ounce of tiredness in your body, but you thought Viktor had already fallen asleep, and didn't want to bother him with late night conversations about the meaning of life.

His left side was going numb from the pressure of his weight, pins and needles in his arm and shoulder. Viktor sighed, uncomfortably sighing at the sensation. He turned on his back, feeling better already. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, vaguely distinguishing the shapes around him. He raised his head to look at the fireplace — the last thing he wanted was to set fire to the Academy. His mind spiralled, thinking about the next term, about the work he still had to do in the lab, about how his interactions with you would be from now on. Viktor was so used to you ignoring him that he couldn't even imagine you smiling and greeting him in the morning.

"Are you sleeping?" You whispered, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"No, not really." He said. "I don't feel tired."

"Me neither." You turned on your back and faced the ceiling.

"What happened to back-to-back?" Viktor playfully mocked you.

"I got pins and needles in my arm." You admitted. "Can I ask you something?"

"You already did."

"Oh, wow, okay, fuck off." You frowned in the darkness and he laughed.

"I'm only joking. You can ask me anything."

"Would you model for me? I swear on my life I'm not making fun of y-"

"Yes." Viktor cut you off with no hesitation in his voice. "If that will make you happy, then yes.

"Oh. Since when do you care about my happiness?" You laughed, hoping he was jesting, praying he would say something witty.

"Since I lost you." Came his all too serious response, enough to make your blood freeze in your body.

He meant that platonically. He must've meant it platonically. There was no way in hell Viktor cared for you more than a friend, not after the way you treated him. You waited for him to chuckle, to say he didn't mean it that way, but he was quiet. Only one way to find out how he meant his words.

His breathing was heavy, like he had a weight on his chest stopping him from functioning properly, and Viktor flinched when he felt your hand touch his under the blanket. He brushed it off as an accident, until your pinky found his, hooking around it.

"I'm here now." You told him, voice sweet and soothing. "If you'll still have me."

Viktor boldly intertwined his fingers with yours, and you could feel your cheeks burning. But friends held hands, didn't they? It wasn't out of the ordinary. The room was getting colder, and the thin blanket barely offered you any warmth. When your body shivered, Viktor dared to scoot closer to you, his body radiating heat. How was he so hot when he looked so pale?

"Do you want me to hold you?" He asked — platonically, of course.

You didn't reply, but instead crawled under his arm, resting your head on his chest, feeling his frantic heart beats. Friends did that, didn't they? Particularly in such a situation that required you not to freeze.

"I missed you so much." Viktor confessed, burying his face in your hair. You smelled less of you and more of him, and it drove him mad. You were so close, and so far at the same time that his heart almost exploded in his chest from the overwhelming emotions.

"Missed you too." You mumbled, intoxicated by his scent and warmth. "I don't ever want to be a petty bitch to you."

"I promise I won't give you any reason to be one." He smiled into your hair. "Although I must admit, it was quite exciting."

"Mm, how so?" You looked up at him, even if you could barely distinguish his features in the pale moonlight.

"Well, as frustrating as you were, I really wanted to put you in your place." Viktor purred, fingers combining your hair. "I still do."

There was nothing platonic about his words, nothing platonic about the way he held you, and nothing platonic about how you lifted your leg to straddle him, hovering over his body.

"So do it, then. Put me in my fucking place."

His hand slithered behind your head, pulling you into a wet, feverish kiss with newfound strength. Toes curling, you let out a guttural moan, grinning against his lips — you needed him, not as a muse, not as a model, but as a man.

Viktor's hands travelled up your thighs, up your hips, pulling the shirt over your head. There was no time for foreplay — he wanted you, and he wouldn't stop until he had you. With the shirt tossed on the floor, you leaned back for another kiss, another taste of him, and he gladly obliged.

The room wasn't cold anymore, not when you could feel him hard against your clothed cunt, and you automatically rolled your hips, aching for any bit of friction.

"So needy." Viktor's lips curved into a grin, and he dug his fingers into the plush of your thighs, earning a whimper from you.

"Not needy." You shook your head and pouted. "Greedy."

He couldn't see the lust in your eyes, but he felt your hand slip between your bodies, under the fabric of his trousers as you tugged on the waistband, yanking it down. That same hand found his cock, fingers gently wrapping around his shaft and Viktor bucked his hips, yearning for much more than just your fist.

"So needy." You mocked his words, and he found your panties, sliding them to the side.

"Greedy." Viktor corrected you, his digits poking at your entrance, slick coating them.

Lifting yourself to manoeuvre his aching cock, you pushed his fingers away to slip the tip inside of you. Inch by inch, you sunk lower, feeling him stretch your spongy walls. He was bigger than you had anticipated, and you sat there for a good minute to get used to the girth, hissing at the pain caused by the intrusion. It had been a while since you did this.

"Tight." Viktor bit back a moan, struggling not to move — he wanted you to take the lead when you were ready. Perhaps skipping foreplay wasn't such a good idea.

You placed a hand on his chest for support, slowly rolling your hips, his cock reaching deeper than you thought was possible. It was no easy feat taking him all in, but what little stinging pain you felt was soon replaced by pleasure, and the hissing turned into whimpering, weeping.

Viktor was on the verge of a panic attack when he heard your quiet sobs, almost pushing you off him until you bounced up and down his cock, riding him like it was the last time you would see him.

"Fuck- oh, fuck, Vik-" You broke when he held you in place by your hips, fucking you deeper, harder, and you were pliant for him. Obedient for him. Good for him.

Viktor wouldn't last long, not when you chanted his name like a prayer, cunt clenching around his cock. You were made to take him, he thought, his hand on the back of your head pulling you into another sloppy kiss.

"I'm close-" He shamefully admitted, wanting this moment to last forever, but his stamina was weak, and you didn't want to push his body over the limit.

Your fingers reached out for your clit rubbing frantic circles over it to help you climax. Not that his cock couldn't do that, but you could feel it twitching inside of you. He lost himself when your orgasm crashed down like a tide, having the privilege of finishing inside of you. Your body was limp as you struggled to get off him, falling backwards on the rug, his fingers firmly wrapped around yours.

The silence in the office wasn't haunting anymore, but rather peaceful, natural. You didn't feel the need to fill it with meaningless conversations, or petty bickering, or silly jokes. No, it felt good just lying there next to Viktor, holding hands and breathing. Two lost souls — mind and heart, logic and feeling, science and art — coexisting, completing each other, fusing with one another to create something so delicate — love.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #afab reader #viktor #viktor arcane #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #viktor smut #arcane smut

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shaisuki · 11 months ago

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❝ CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU. ❞

⚚ FEATURING. YANDERE! MANAGER! ALEXIS NESS

CONTENT WARNINGS. idol! reader + panty sniffing + masturbation (m!) + implied murder + voyeurism + nonconsensual recording + deranged ness + dubious consent + nicknames (muse, princess) + forced affection + threats + coercion + virgin reader + guilt tripping + oral (f! receiving + kidnapping + noncon.

NOTES. requested by @hillaryary

I was very happy to find your profile and stories :D your story is very good and I really like it!! I have to go to tumblr and re-read your stories every day :DD and can you write a yandere alexis ness x chubby reader, where the reader is a music idol and Ness is her manager?

SYNOPSIS. the industry's cold for someone like you, thanks for the entertainment gods you're blessed with your sweet manager, alexis ness or is he?

you are too good to be true.

the neon lights blending with his own magenta eyes following your plush body dancing to the rhythm of the song you recently released. although he can't hear the cheers of the people singing along to your music. he's deeply focused following your every movement. his ears straining the unwanted voices in the background. separating your voice to the crowd and alexis could forever watch and listen to you sing and dance.

if you would just let him take you away from this. you would only exist for him and you won't have to go far to impress these good for nothing who wants you. a product they can buy and throw away.

ness handled numerous artists and he's quite proud to say they were flourishing because of him and it would have continued if it wasn't for their greed. the fame inflating their egos that it bursted until they were no more than nothing but trash. you were humble despite the rapid fame you've gained since starting and ness is captivated by you. how you carried yourself and faced the challenges as an idol.

it's quite difficult since you started. of course, the audience wasn't really into the idea of someone of your stature. round and stout unlike the usual petite idols with the hourglass figures. the fans wanted the thin with the soft features but never the fat that it comes with it and you're nothing like that at all. proving your worth until you get that breakthrough that sealed your deal as the popular rising star in the industry. handled by the finest manager named alexis ness.

alexis is the sweetest and kindest of all the managers (only to you). never did he criticize for your body that was the main concerns of the producers and other concerns that relates to your stardom. he tended all of your needs and made sure you were properly taken care of. alexis just loves you.

and he's the worst. always daydreams about you and think how you've fallen for him. thinking you were just too shy about admitting it and ness likes the thought of it. he likes you too. no. scratch that, he loves you. thinking that your words of praise are your declaration of love for him and how those touches are you seducing him. to fall on his knees and begs for your love which he didn't need to be told twice. he's a delusional lovesick boy. nothing can stop him. not even the forbidden relationships between managers and their talents. alexis would defy it all for the name of his love to you.

the song ended with the cheers coming from the crowd. chanting your name and you ended the concert with thanks and the words of appreciation for supporting you. you're radiant as the sun under the spotlight. waving your hands to the crowd who wants you. threatening to destroy that clean image of yours and ness wouldn't allow such filth to happen to you.

he put a genuine smile while you put your microphone away. his smile was different from the others he shows. this one is only for you.

“alexis.” the call of his name instantly made his heart skip a beat. his lively eyes getting brighter. perking up more than the usual and made his dick hard. his hands itching to get a feel from your soft skin. “it was a another successful concert, thanks to you.” you approached him. grabbing his hand to clasp with yours and ness thinks he could explode in the moment but he kept his composure. after all, he's your manager. your hands is so soft and it perfectly fits in his.

“it is nothing. it is you should take the credit. keep up the good work, sweetheart.” patting your cheek and removing your earpiece. “shall i take you home?” his sight briefly looking at your back where the crowd is still chanting your name in a thunderous manner. you nodded. you were beyond tired and needed a much deserved rest.

after changing out of your outfit, ness escorted you out where his car awaits for you two. of course ness needs to be discreet considering how every corners of the place, a photographer or a simple bystander stands. wanting to get a photograph of you and spread it like a wildfire in the interest. a scandal would erupt if you both where alone and in his car but ness is known as the manager who kept things professional and strictly business as things were. they can't use it against him nor to you as a new headline of fucking tabloid. it's only him and his talent. a good manager who takes good care of his star.

when you got home, you sighed in relief. you needed a bath after that concert and you need to prepare for the next upcoming days for press conferences, meet and greets and guesting for tv shows. no words are said as you instantly hopped in the shower. leaving your manager alone in his own devices in your apartment. it was fine though. you trusted alexis since you started in the entertainment industry and he was nothing but kind to you or is he?

when he hears the water run in the shower. ness knows exactly what he had to do. he follows you in your bathroom. the silhouette of your plush figure lays in front of him and ness was tempted to join you. lick the water running down to your soft body while your fingers comb through his hair. kiss him passionately. tell him how much you love him and he almost did it but for now he's going to relieve himself with your panties. digging it through under your clothes in the hamper and jackpot! he found it.

your cute, frilly panties. you always it wore it when doing public events. your lucky panties, he presumes. it's damp and ness almost salivates at the scent. sniffing the undergarment and fishing his hardened cock in his pants.

ness trembles. the excitement of being caught while sniffing your panties. he think he could cum in the spot but he tortures himself not to cum immediately. his eyes fixated in the shower door. he can see you rubbing your body in an almost sensual manner. his grip on his cock tightens. moving it back and forth. thrusting it in his fist. rubbing it continuously and the moment you turned off the shower, he cums in his fist. the sensation of cumming sending tingles down to his spine. sparks after sparks of endorphins being released in his brain and ness cleans himself before walking away from your bathroom. your panties in his pocket and ness pretends to be resting in your couch.

fresh out of the shower, you told ness that you would be turning for the night and he just gives you a smile. he will leave after you fall asleep making sure his sweet, pretty princess would be safe.

he waited for a good hour. not minding the night being this late. he slowly tiptoes in your bedroom and ness slowly sinks to the soft mattress of your bed. placing your plushies besides you. ones that was given by your fans and that big plum colored teddy bear that is displayed at the foot of your bed. it's round, black eyes is planted with camera that he crafted to keep track of you and you look really adorable even when you sleep. ness can't even think for a memory that you look absolutely a mess. you were really pretty in his eyes. your face devoid of any make-up and he can see the natural state of your face and ness could just worship you if you'll allow him and even if you don't.

you really trust him. you don't even suspect him of doing the nastiest thing he can do. he would kill for you. done it many times so he could protect you.

love me! his thought scream at him. he slowly crawls to you. lurching forward like a predator stalking his prey. his body caging your own. you don't even shift in your sleep. you're gullible. your own manager is above you. watching you through in his eyes filled with adoration with a lovesick face.

love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!love me! love me! love me! love me! love me!

the only words running in his mind while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. let your warmth seeps and touch his very soul while his clothed cock is pressed to your creamy thighs. he moans a little when his cock brushed against your crotch. the thin barrier of your thin pajama bottoms is nothing. he hopes you'll wake up. he hopes you don't.

would you scream? push him away? or pull him closer to you. let his hands wander throughout the expanse of your body while you grind to him. show him that pretty pussy of yours dripping. telling him how much you wanted him inside of you and ness groans.

he should stop before you can find out what your manager had been doing to you. he removes himself from you. “sweet dreams, princess.” he mutters. running his fingers to the roundness of your cheek and kissing your forehead before reluctantly saying goodbye to you. he leaves your apartment silently. making sure it was locked and his phone syncs with the camera he hid in your teddy bear. he looks back one last time before he goes home.

make up? check. your earpiece working? check. do you look cute in this outfit? check. you did a little twirl in your dressing room. posing and practicing the hundred of facial expressions you memorized for this concert of yours. you were ready.

a knock interrupted your little train of thoughts and it revealed your cute manager ness with his ever so cute smile and those kind eyes of his.

“you ready for you big day, my muse?” he asks, checking up on his favorite idol. the cutest of them all. he was rewarded by your beaming smile. you were literally bouncing. after all. this had been set for months and your manager decided that it was time for your grand performance in of the biggest stadiums in the country. ness, a magician manager like him had worked to pull the strings to get his muse, her grandest spotlight.

as much as you deserved it, such acts must be rewarded, right? nothing comes free at all and ness always wanted you. it wouldn't be so bad if he would ask for it. he did everything just to make you shine even as far eliminating threats who wants to strip you out of your fame. those ugly bastards who wants your body for a sliver of connections they had. you're lucky to be in the industry considering you were too big to be an idol they say but ness was having none of it. it's your talent that got you here and him. he was made for your talent and you were made for him.

“thank you, alexis. i really am. without you i would be still in competitions with the others.” you thanked him tearfully. he can see you were sincere at your actions and that made ness heart skip beats before thumping in full force that it's enough for him to be sent into a heart attack but it's far from it. his cute, darling idol. he thought. his eyes raking the sight of your body from head to toe. your so delicious curves and soft features in front of him are made to be touched.

“ah, my darling muse.” ness approaches you. holding your shoulders. as much physical contact between managers and their talents are prohibited, ness was an exception. he never gave you any reason to be wary of and only acted like a friend would do. “don't get teary at me. it's your big day. we wouldn't want your beautiful face to be in a mess, right?” he coos at you affectionately. catching a teardrop in your lash line before it drops in your round cheek.

he's so close to you. your adorable face in front of him and he can smell the scent you naturally emits and he's about to burst. purple eyes looking at your own (e/c) eyes and he's about to be trapped. your lips tremble at the slightest of emotion and he's tempted to kiss you.

his sight going back and forth to your eyes and to your lips. his hold on you tightens and slowly, maybe it was the tension and how badly he wants you, he'd done it.

he presses his lips to yours and ness always wanted it and it's happening now. it's soft and gentle like a first kiss. it was your first kiss and he stole it. ness knows it was your first. he runs down a whole background check on you if he was to be your manager and it was just cherry on top that you were untouched and pure for him. ness had done everything at his power to keep you that way. it was for his own gain to have you.

there was no reaction when he kisses you. it must be shocking. your own manager kissing you out of the blue. it was the least you expected. he was just a manager to you.

you were still processing about it. no doubt and when ness broke the kiss. you were stunned. looking at him wide eyes and he took it as another opportunity to kiss you again. how long he waited for this. your soft lips against his. your soft skin under his fingertips. he let out a low moan. relishing in the sensation of your body pressed against him.

“alexis...” you softly mutter his name under your breath. he was biting your lower lip when you pull away from him and stares at you. pupils blown with lust and cheeks red. he looks like a lovesick school boy. “what?” he doesn't let you go in his grasp. you shake your head. “it's wrong.” he knows it. it's wrong to have a physical relationship nor a romantic relationship to your idol but managers had done it for a long time. it's a reward for their hard work and ness was hurt from how your face contorts into one of disappointment. your once adoring face that was directed to him is now replaced with anxiousness. looking at him in disbelief and is that the look of betrayal?

“it's not wrong when it's only the two of us. don't you love me?” ness voice trembles and it was similar to grade schooler that was being reprimanded of a deed they can't control. you don't know how to make the words you needed to say. you do love alexis. he's the one who helped you build this fame and even it was his job as your manager, you owe all of this to him. despite all of that, you can't risk a scandal between you two. one rumor and it could destroy all the hard work. you simply can't everything on the line.

“i do love you, alexis....” ness perks up from what you've said. you hesitated to utter the next words “you're my manager. my confidant in everything. the person that i trust in this industry but i can't return your feelings. i'm sorry.” your excitement dying down from the revelation of his feelings to you. better let that out than to let his feelings spiral out of control but you were wrong it only fuels his desire to want you more.

clasping his hands and ness thinks he could cry. it was a rejection but he just couldn't accept it. you love him. you've said it but why? were you afraid of crossing a line? idols like you aren't allowed to date but it's fine if it's with him. a secret until you retire and you can love him in the light as in the dark. he couldn't take this rejection. he needed to convince you that it was fine. no one will know.

“we can keep it a secret. just you and me. no one will find out about it. managers had dated their idols without knowing. we can be like that!” ness frantically explains to you.

“for them! alexis, you and i is not the same. i love you but not in a romantic way. platonically, yes. you're the only person i trust here, alexis.” you reason out to him, half-explaining, half-raising your voice at him. trying to reach out. change his mind that you can't love him the way he loves you.

your manager wasn't quick to give up though.

“no! you love me. you're afraid! i swear i'll be good. i'll work harder!” beginning to lose his sense of respect to himself and to you. he's beginning to spout nonsense and you shush him before he breaks down in front of you.

“alexis! stop! stop! you don't need to do anything, okay?” you hold him down by his shoulders. cupping his cheeks and meet his eyes that is already brimming with tears. “you don't need to do anything of that. we can still be... — friends. nothing will change after this. just please, promise me you won't do anything drastic.” you almost practically beg at him and hope he will take this seriously.

“i'll do it but only if you will let me do this.” you weren't able to compose reply before his lips is into yours again. “alexis!” you pushed him but he's back in to you again. “just this once and it will be done.”

you searched if it was real in his eyes and you found no malice in those eyes of purple. still like a gem in the ground and there's a little bit of sparkle in them.

it's only a kiss he asked for but could you trust him? what if someone found out or a hidden camera is recording this whole ordeal. you shake the dark array of thoughts lining in your brain. reaching to a conclusion that you won't regret this.

“you promise?” you asked, a little wary about it.

“i promise.” he smiles and he was about to do the thing you're about to regret. too gullible that he would be satisfied with kissing you.

then the kiss came. lips pressed against yours. gentle it was like him and when you think it was done. you were proven wrong when his hold on you started to get tight. holding the back of your head to further deepen the kiss. swiping your bottom lip with his tongue. you gasped at the sensation. forcing you to open your mouth and ness took the opportunity to shove his tongue to yours.

it was brutal and the sudden intrusion of his tongue in your mouth felt weird. is this what being kissed feels like? you try not to focus but judging from ness, he was adamant of kissing you like this.

the fluttering heat of the sensation of kissing you begins to settle in the pit of his stomach. oblivious to the pain he was beginning to inflict in your skin. all he can focus is the taste of your mouth in his. the strawberry flavored scented lip gloss in your lips coating his taste buds and the softness of body engulfs him. wrapped in the heavenly sensation of being this close to you. ness didn't want this to end.

you body starts to cave in with his ministrations and ness carefully assists you to place your body in your vanity table. your back pressed in the mirror. he breaks the kiss. letting you to catch your breath before he's in yours again. a couple of kisses he left in your lips and then to your cheek and jaw until he's nuzzling in your neck. sucking marks until a hickey blooms from it.

“alexis. you promise it will be done and the concert's starting.” reminding him of his promise. ness who's already hooked to you kept kissing your exposed skin. “there's still thirty minutes left until showtime and you're a little tense.” ness ignores the earlier ordeal. too bad. he won't be satisfied with only a kiss. he needed to taste you. “you won't mind if i help you loosen up a bit. won't you?” alexis suggested. he didn't leave a room for you to respond. standing in front of you. resting his forehead against yours. patting your cheek gently.

“you're particularly tense in this spot, princess.” alexis mused followed by a gasp coming from you when he rubs his finger to your slit. “alexis! no—....” he interrupted you with a kiss. your legs jerking in response along with your upper half. coiling away from him as you move backwards. hitting the mirror and knocking a vase.

his finger repeatedly going back and forth. grazing the surface of your panties until he can feel the dampness of it. “you're still tense.” he murmurs. going back again to kiss you and slotting himself between your legs. his hands creeping up and sliding it under your ass. holding it firmly before grinding his bulge to yours. “ahh~” alexis moans. feeling the warmth of your pussy and the contact of his bulge to yours sending tingles in his spine.

you were helpless against him. you think your body is made of jelly from how his touch leave you to be this weak. “alexis!” you cry out to him. a call for him to stop but your manager didn't take it seriously.

“i told you, princess. i'm helping you to relax. it's a big day for both of us. don't worry it will only take a minute.” what a liar. this is not a way for you to decompress. not with such stakes are in the line.

you think that this industry would be a godsend to you since you're under the care of alexis ness but it's a nightmare. you think of all the idols that had to endure this.

you're wrong. alexis had never touched nor took advantage of the previous idols who was under him. you're lucky. you took his breathe away and was always good for him. it's only the way he can show how much he adores you.

“alexis....” you don't understand why you were suddenly experiencing the feeling of being helpless under him. how his touch disarms you that you're letting him do this. were you truly this dependent to him? you feel him under you. pushing back the tulle of your skirt until it bunches in your waist. still careful not to crinkle the fabric.

his smooth hands glides through the expanse of your thighs. massaging the doughy flesh and letting his fingers sink over the softness of it. “relax for me, princess.” alexis assures you. a brief peck of his lips to yours. not breaking eye contact with you until he started to kneel. leveling with your crotch and he leans in closer.

“princess.” he calls you. peppering the insides of your thighs with kisses. he takes a deep breath. his nose pressed in your slit. inhaling the scent of your cunt he'd been dreaming to get a taste of it. wished he could stay in this forever before he smothered his face in your cunt. “a-alexis!” you inhale sharply at the sudden contact of his tongue to your aching cunt.

your back arches at the sensation of his tongue constantly flicking against the smooth surface of your pussy lips. your fingers finding his hair. unconsciously tugging his hair while your hips grinds in rhythm with his tongue.

“a-ahh...” alexis hears you moan and he couldn't explain the happiness that is bursting inside of him plus the throbbing of his hardened cock. he must contain himself. he thought. it could wait. for now, he must remember the taste of you. he's the reason you're feeling this good and this send alexis to eat you out to his heart's desire.

he greedily laps at your cunt. letting out a noise of contentment while he eagerly catches the slick that your sweet cunt is releasing. he doesn't mind when you're pulling his hair a little roughly. he's glad that you're enjoying this as much as he is. he hears you breath. moan at every move of his tongue. rolling your hips against his face. his fingers digging at your thighs. his idol. his muse. trembling at his very touch.

he knows you're close. from the way you're suppressing the sound of your sinful moans and your thick thighs closing around his head. he needs more. he needs to taste you more. his lips wraps around your clit and that sends a violent jerk of your hips upwards and more slick to drip out of you. ness abandoned your clit. his tongue wiggling inside your dripping hole and sucking the thin, clear liquid out of your cunt. he just can't get enough of this. small vibrations coming from his mouth showing how much he loves the taste of you.

“a-alexis, i—'m close...” you mewl. the tight and the tingly feeling inside you growing and it won't be long before you reach your peak. the man below you hums. worsening the situation you're in. he happily laps your heat.

you taste so divine and he's about to bestow you the most mind-numbing orgasm and so he pours all his experience in your cunt. adding his touch while he rubs soft circles in your thighs and alexis moans when your thighs presses together. encasing his head. he hears you chanting his name like a prayer. asking to let you cum and it's a privilege to make his idol cum.

you close your eyes. the sensation of his tongue flicking and gliding to your folds is too much. you don't know if you'll last this long. this is what it feels to be taken care of. physically. it felt so good. you want more. forgetting that this is taboo between you and ness but...

it was set aside when you tumbled over the edge. the tight, hot coil snapping inside you and your toes curling. body taut until you were boneless against the mirror. sliding in a slow motion. ness laps up the remnants of your post bliss. mouth drenched in your sweet essence that will linger in him for the next days and when you relaxed.

“i think you're ready now.” he innocently smiled to you. helping you fix your dress for today's performance and gently dabbing your face with a tissue to clear the smudges in your make up. “alexis. i hope you'll keep your promise.” you say to him. hearing the crowd in your dressing room and alexis nods. satisfied for now. “as you wish, princess.” then a knock was heard. the stage manager telling you that it's almost time and you were escorted in the back stage. your manager trailing behind you.

what happened between you two is something you regret and not proud of.

alexis was concerned how you were frowning the whole time. his eyes fixated to you and only you. the stage manager begins to count the numbers until it was showtime. your face beaming up in a rapid manner. gripping the microphone before taking a deep breath and it was showtime.

he watched you dance and sing. interact with the fans and blowing them kisses and ness was jealous of it. he knows it's only a ploy to make your fans love you but he wishes it was directed to him. he's a manager. he encouraged you to do it in the first place on how to make your supporters love you and expand your fanbase. the apple of their eye and to him. his darling muse.

dark, muddied thoughts begins to stain his already messed up brain. if only you would look at him the same and thus, he got fed up with this life. hiding and trying to make his creations be pleasing to everyone's eye. if you're going to end up like them, he better cut your wings off.

and that's what he did.

“my muse.” he said with a soft smile. his voice filled with adoration. the nickname stuck to you. always had been. you were his masterpiece. “i never thought i would be this addicted to you.” pale purple eyes staring right at you. never breaking eye contact just to prove his devotion to you. “let me have the pleasure of being your first.” he means it. pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

your mind is alive but your body couldn't move. it was like it was made of of lead. you feel him everywhere. you didn't know you would be in this situation. is this still your sweet manager alexis who can fought tooth and nail just to defend you? who nurtured you and encourages to be yourself despite the rough upbringing of the entertainment industry. did he that all and only he would take that all away from you for him to do worst. the answer was clear to you.

a tear slip out from your eye. you feel your innocence and purity along with your dignity slowly fades when his cock strips you out of it. his breath in your face. his lips singing of praises. his muse. he chants it repeatedly while he moves. his eyes on you all the time. watching the change on your face. you should have run when alexis first showed you kindness and now it's too late. he keeps you in this place where you are only for his eyes to see.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x chubby reader #alexis ness #alexis x chubby reader #alexis ness x reader #alexis x reader #yandere x reader #yandere themes #yandere x chubby reader

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dailypenpen · 1 year ago

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What do Genshin Men think of with you in their arms? (pt.1)

characters: Diluc, Xiao, and Kazuha.

notes: insecurities (Xiao) but other than that fluff. gn reader, only you pronouns used.

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic. ever. omg. this is nervewracking. I do hope everyone enjoys!!

Diluc thinks he does not deserve to be loved. The people he cherished most have slipped past his fingers like sand. And similarly to sand, the hourglass of time pulls these connections apart. He sits at the top, desperately trying to reach for the ones that have fallen away. Only tears reaching towards the bottom of the glass. Almost mocking him.

So he does not understand why you still stay. Why you are here sleeping peacefully by his side. Why you snuggle closer to him, your fingers grasping for him even in your sleep. Diluc feels like he can't breathe. Diluc can't fathom your actions, your love, your care, you most of all—

And yet, he accepts your hands reaching for him. Bringing them around his waist as he presses you close to his chest. His lips coming close to your ear as he whispers sweet nothings. His eyes staring at your sleeping form, the corner of his eyes crinkling with the thought of you. You who have stayed despite everything he's done to push everyone away. Diluc has always kept everyone from arm's reach, yet you somehow managed to instead be within his arms.

He supposes he should reward your efforts, at the very least.

Diluc brings your shared blanket up closer for the two of you. To perhaps shield you from this cruel world, he muses to himself. To be the only one to see such a sight. He continues staring at you with a tenderness that he believes you deserve from him.

He thinks he couldn't fall any more in love with you. But when you smile in your rest, soft and warm and full of life. Well, Diluc sighs as he holds you closer. Maybe there truly is no limit in loving someone as great as you. Someone who makes him believe that he alone is worthy to be held. To be held by someone like you.

"You are the reason why I dream, my love."

Xiao thinks that you are utterly ridiculous. You only remember to call his name when you are falling midway from a tall peak from Jueyun Karst? Did you not think of calling him when you were out trekking so that he could come with you to ensure your safety? Or even before that, when you first went out of the inn to go?

The wind around you moves with a great swiftness that it's almost hard to miss, but you can recognize it anywhere. He grabs you, quickly holding you in his arms. Xiao looks down at you in disappointment, quickly moving to the ground to rest his feet on. You open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself. But even before you can, his narrowed eyes quickly shut down any word you wanted to say. You opt to give him a sheepish grin in return.

His eyes instantly soften as you smile at him. How? He furrowed his eyebrows at you. How could a mortal like you not have any regard for your own safety? Why risk your life with no insurance that you'll get out unscathed? Or at the very least, alive?

He pulls you closer to him without meaning to, without realizing. He refuses to bring you down to the ground. To let you leave his arms. His breathing is ragged, his arms shaking at the countless thoughts that plague his mind. What if you never called out his name? What if Xiao couldn't hear you, couldn't save you?

Xiao's grip tightens on you more, yet he is careful to not hurt you.

You stay silent, not wanting to disrupt Xiao's thoughts. Your hand moves up to his cheek, rubbing circles in an effort to calm him. Xiao flinches at your touch. You slowly retract your hand away yet he leans towards your hand. Wanting your touch. Knowing that you are safe in his arms.

He stares at you, eyes vulnerable. The one thing he hated showing to anyone. Showing how he, as inhuman as he claims to be, cares. That you brought a weakness he desperately tries to hide. That you are a weakness.

"Be careful next time, my light."

Kazuha thinks you are beyond precious. The both of you are admiring the view of the sea from the Crux, nuzzled up to one another. The Crow's Nest (you once jokingly called it the Kazu's Nest with how frequently he goes up there) is the perfect place for the two of you to cuddle without the rest of the crew spotting you. To escape their endless teasing. Especially from Captain Beidou.

You absentmindedly play with his hair, the ponytail now loose as you continue running your hands through it. He chuckles softly at your mindless actions. You truly are adorable, aren't you? Kazuha muses to himself. He wishes he could write a poem about this very moment, to memorialize it. To engrave it onto his very memory.

Yet, he does not. He stays silent. He knows that it's enough that you are with him, that you are content in his embrace and that he is in yours. That no manner of poetry is enough to encapsulate his deep affection for you. To express his joy in being with you. To somehow portray your very essence in a few words.

He knows it's near impossible to summarize you, that would be unfair to your divine beauty. Can a single word even begin to describe who you are to him? Wondrous, heavenly, or maybe even godsent? Kazuha shakes his head in dissatisfaction. No, those aren't the right words either.

The sea rocks the boat and you squeak while gripping his clothes, afraid to move suddenly with the boat. Kazuha smiles at you, patting your head. You grin back at him, releasing your grip on him. Yet Kazuha quickly grasps your hands in his, earning a small gasp from you. He chuckles again, his eyes so full of love. Almost bursting out of the seams.

You laugh with him, and he looks at you like you're his entire world. Kazuha thinks he can finally have a way to describe you. You, the person whom he always wants to rest with. His one constant in his life of being a vigilante and vagabond. The one person in his entire life that he knows that no matter what he's faced, what he's experienced, will always be with him no matter what. That you are the one person he ever truly wanted.

Kazuha brings your hand close to his lips, kissing them delicately.

"You are my home, darling."

Please consider liking and reblogging!!

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao fluff #xiao #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha fluff #kazuha #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #did you guys know I slept at like 4am to finish this LMAO I love being insomniac #penguin writings!!

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twooftheluckyones · 2 months ago

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Cult of the Lamb: Luck of the Lamb Part 3: Paradigm Shift Belief is a force beyond reckoning. What one believes in can shape the entire course of their lives, and if their will is strong enough, the lives of others as well. So great can someone's ideals be, that their divine power might change the very fabric of reality. After all, the Lamb was wrought to bring change. ~Previous/Next~ ~Start~

~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

"Una, you have done well," Narinder boomed from above. Finally, freedom was so close. Pride and triumph filled him, victory barely within his grasp. "You are freed from my service. Return the crown to me, so that I may be free! Finally... I will be FREE!" An electric energy filled his arms, the shackles binding him gone, now only one final chain to be broken. Una looked up at the god, eyes filled with awe but still pleading. "Narinder, I have one final request of you," she asked, nervousness filling her entire core and seeping into her words. She felt ready to implode. "Let me join you, fighting by your side as your most trusted follower!" Narinder's smile faded, looking guarded, but still neutral. "I have spent my entire life in your service, and hold you above all else. Let me stay by your side and continue my duties as your loyal servant, please!" Narinder's smile faded, and for a pause he looked at her, conflicted. "Your growing divinity has given you courage above all else... I will at least give you some closure." His jaw tightened, his demeanor turning dour as shadow covered his face. It had to be this way. "You ask far beyond what can be done. I cannot save you from your ending." He looked down at her, eyes narrow. "I arrived in much the same manner you did; by dying. My vile siblings struck me down, but death is my domain. The power within the crown would have allowed me to escape. It is only with their binding chains that I was trapped here." Una felt the floor vanish from under her, clutching the crown with fear. The implication of his words began to sink in. "No! There must be a way!" She stammered, desperation taking hold. "T-The ritual of resurrection?!" "The mortal soul is but a candle, simple to relight, but the raging power of a god cannot simply be rekindled with mere bones and chanting." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the vast expanse around them. Suddenly the still air felt thick, oppressive, binding. "Their chains may be gone, but we are still both bound to this place, and have been since we died. Death is as inevitable as the sand in an hourglass running empty. It is only through the crown's power that a god can escape it." He looked at her again, and only for a moment she saw the faint glimmer regret in his eyes. But determination snuffs it instantly. "This includes you... Una," the name is oozing with remorse, far more sympathy than the god has ever granted anyone. "Your musings of emergent divinity are true. Even if you returned the crown, I cannot undo the divinity that now fills your soul." He stretched his arm out again, hand right in front of her. His eyes smoldered with command. There is no other way. "Return it. Now." Una did not obey. Her trembling hands steeled themselves around a jet black sword, glaring up at him with furious refusal in her eyes. Tears of betrayal ran down her face, but did not sway her hand. There had to be another way. The electricity in her body surged, divine energy rising up around her as she prepared to defy destiny. The space around them crackled with the whirlwind of power, a furious storm summoned by one who defies all odds and opposes fate itself. One becomes nothing, and the universe trembled in change.

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl #narinder #narilamb #totlo art #narinder x lamb #lotl cotl au #fanfic #original comic #cotl aym #cotl baal

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peachblossom-odyssey · 2 years ago

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Laughing imagining the members of Hobie’s band watching him go from cool collected loner to a pining mess. They have no idea who holds his heart but they can tell that someone does and it’s lowkey killing them not to know, they have to know who’s got their guitarist all distracted and spacey, barely listening half the time, doodling hearts and hourglass shapes on his notebooks, writing nothing but love songs anymore, the sappiest yet most heartfelt love songs in existence. He’s even smiling more, and practically dives for his weird bracer whenever it makes a noise, and mumbles in his sleep about someone named ‘Pav’.

The need to Know drives them nuts, and then their faces when Hobie finally brings Pavitr around to meet them and they realize that the mysterious muse that got Hobie all lovey-dovey is a short yet energetic chatterbox ball of sunshine and confidence that they would never in a million years thought Hobie would go for, and yet it’s written all over Hobie’s face in the way he looks at Pavitr, the way he smiles and teases and tries to impress him, the way he totally stops functioning when Pavitr gives him a beaming smiles and broodily pulls Pavitr close with a possessive arm when he thinks someone else is eying him up.

Then they tease Hobie relentlessly for the rest of his life

#chaipunk #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse

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a-star-riding-through-clouds · 1 month ago

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60s th1n$p0

(Go to the end for some facts!)

The 60s are wildly considered the era when 3Ds first got BIG

As a way to rebel against the 50s hourglass look the 60s idealised a skinny almost “pre-pubescent boy” type of body

An example could be English supermodel twiggy who at about 168cm (5’6) weighed like 91Lb (41kg)

Or my personal fav, Edie Sedgwick (5’5 and 90lb) Andy Warhols muse actually struggled with 4n4 and m1a for most of her short lived life (since she was like 12)

Actually the picture of the girl with the black tights on the bed is of Edie whilst she was hospitalised for her 4n4 <3

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ltash · 1 month ago

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Scream

Ghostxfemalereader

The opulence of your office was a stark contradiction to the chaos unravelling beyond its walls. The mahogany desk, polished to a mirror-like gleam, stood as a testament to power and wealth, its surface immaculate save for the glowing monitors streaming live footage from the CCTV system. The images on the screens told a grim story: Task Force 141 was storming the building with relentless precision. The faint echoes of gunfire filtered through the fortified walls, each sharp crack a harbinger of impending doom.

You adjusted the Prada spectacles perched delicately on your nose, the gold frames catching the soft glow of the chandelier above. Rising with deliberate grace, you smoothed the rich, velvety fabric of your brown jersey dress, its figure-hugging cut sculpting your petite, hourglass silhouette Gold bangles chimed softly as you opened the drawer and retrieved the sleek, matte pistol resting inside. Its cold, familiar weight steadied your trembling hands.

For a moment, you allowed yourself a single deep breath. Control. Poise. Resolve. The words repeated like a mantra, a fragile bulwark against the growing panic clawing at your chest.

The corridor stretched before you, bathed in the dim, foreboding glow of emergency lights. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting and shifting as if alive, feeding the unease you tried desperately to suppress. Each step you took, the click of your heels on the marble floor echoed louder in your ears, amplifying the stark emptiness around you.

Then the lights went out.

Darkness enveloped you with suffocating immediacy. Your breath hitched, coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You gripped the pistol tighter, the weapon feeling small and insignificant against the mounting dread. Somewhere ahead, gunfire crackled faintly, punctuated by muffled screams. Each sound hammered at your composure.

Turning a corner, your pulse skittered into chaos as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was a phantom in the dark, broad shoulders, towering frame, and an aura of menace that seemed to fill the space like a tangible force. The skull mask obscuring his face glinted faintly, its hollow eyes fixing on you with an intensity that froze you in place.

Before you could react, he closed the distance, a blade flashing in the faint light.

The steel kissed your abdomen with cold precision before sinking in. Pain erupted, hot and blinding, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your knees buckled. The rich fabric of your dress darkened as blood seeped through, warm and sticky against your skin.

His grip on your wrist was unyielding, pinning you effortlessly against the wall. The sheer strength in his hand was enough to force a choked cry from your throat. Shadows framed his masked face, but his eyes, deep, piercing pools of brown, locked onto yours with a cruel, magnetic pull.

"You don't look scared enough," he murmured, his voice low and edged with menace.

The knife twisted, a calculated motion that drew another strangled cry from you. Agony bloomed, spreading in sharp, unbearable waves, but it was his presence that overwhelmed you, the heat radiating from him, the dominance in his every movement. His breath was warm against your cheek, steady and deliberate, a contrast to the chaos inside you.

"P-please," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, what?" His tone mocked your desperation, lips brushing so close to your ear that the words felt like a physical caress. "Begging won't save you."

Your body arched involuntarily as the blade shifted again, the pain electric and all-consuming. You clawed weakly at his forearm, your strength insignificant against his iron grip.

"Such a fragile little thing," he mused, his voice almost amused. "And yet, you're still fighting. Adorable."

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain, yet you couldn't ignore the way his words sent an unwelcome thrill skittering down your spine. His masked face loomed closer, the hollow eyes seeming to drink in your every reaction.

"Why..." Why are you doing this?" you choked out, trembling under his hold.

His reply was cold, absolute. "Because I can."

The simplicity of his answer was more terrifying than the knife. It carried no malice, no justification, only a detached certainty that rendered your defiance meaningless. He tilted his head, studying you as if you were a curiosity.

"You're trembling," he said, his voice soft but edged with dark amusement. His gloved hand gripped your jaw, forcing your face to tilt up toward his. "Your fear is... intoxicating."

Your breath hitched as his hand travelled lower, a possessive touch that burned even through the barrier of his glove. "So small," he murmured, the words a cruel taunt. "So delicate. I could break you so easily."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but his hand wiped them away, the leather rough against your skin. "Don't cry," he whispered, his tone darkly seductive. "Not yet. I want to see how far you can fall."

The knife twisted again, and the sound that escaped you was different this time, soft, breathless, a sound that betrayed far more than pain. His eyes narrowed behind the mask, the cruelty in his gaze sharpening with satisfaction.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his voice a dangerous purr. "Does the pain excite you?"

"N-no," you whispered, but the tremor in your voice betrayed the lie.

His chuckle was low, vibrating through the narrow space between you. "Liar," he said simply. "Your body doesn't lie."

Shame and fury warred within you, but his dominance was absolute. The weight of his presence, the heat of his body, and the unrelenting intensity of his gaze, it consumed you.

"You'll scream for me," he said, his voice soft but menacing, a promise etched in stone. "And when you do, it will be the sweetest sound I've ever heard."

You clung desperately to the shreds of your composure, but in your heart, you already knew the truth. You were his, trapped in a web of fear, pain, and something darker, something you couldn't name but couldn't deny.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing your gaze back to his. The touch was demanding, almost domineering. His eyes were deep pools of brown, the colour of rich earth.

He whispered, his voice low and cold. The blade twisting agonisingly inside you...

"Scream."

Gif credits: @yumethefrostypanda

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