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drippingghoneyy · 3 days ago

Text

I Plan To -Viktor x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Viktor share a secret history, known only to you and him. The reader grows weary of waiting, leading them to distance themselves, but who can resist?…

Genre/ Pairing: drabble, Implied smut (?), Viktor x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI!, tension, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, dom!Viktor, GN!Reader, dom/sub dynamics, pet names… (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 2.1k.

Notes: Reblog and like!! I read every comment, they make my whole day! If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. Grammarly don’t fail me now 🙂 If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

The first time it happened, it was a mere accident. Or so you liked to tell yourself. Late one evening in the lab, the soft hum of the machines and the flicker of candlelight had created an atmosphere thick with tension. Viktor had been explaining his latest research findings, his eyes alight with excitement, his voice a soothing rumble in the quiet space.

Your gaze had kept slipping from his notes to the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers danced over the parchment. The air between you had grown charged, until a stray touch of your hand on his arm had sent a jolt through both of you. He'd looked up, and in that moment, the universe had narrowed to just the two of you.

Subtle glances grew into lingering stares, and stolen touches became something more. Viktor was dominant, not in the way that he ruled with an iron fist, but in the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to coax it from the world around him. His confidence was like a magnetic field, and you, a sweet assistant, of course found yourself inexplicably drawn to the edge of his orbit.

He'd praise your intellect, your dedication to the work, and you'd blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the nearby Bunsen burner. He'd lean in just a little closer, and you'd catch a whiff of the faint scent of his cologne—spicy and alluring. The line between professional and personal blurred until one night, after hours of a shared passion for science, you found yourselves crossing it.

That first time, he'd walked you to your room, the silence of the academy hanging around you like a velvet shroud. His hand had found yours, and your hearts had pounded in a delicious rhythm that matched your footsteps. You hadn't even realized what was happening until you were both standing in your doorway, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. A look passed between you, one that said everything without uttering a single word. You'd invited him in, and he hadn't needed to be asked twice.

The secret meetings grew more frequent, stolen moments in the shadowy corners of the lab or behind locked doors in his study. It was thrilling, but it was also exhausting. You were torn between your desire for him and the frustration that came with his refusal to acknowledge your feelings beyond the physical.

So, you started to pull away. It was subtle at first, a shift in your schedule here, a missed rendezvous there. You threw yourself into your studies and experiments with renewed vigor. The late nights in the library were no longer spent in heated whispers but in furrowed brows and pen ink smeared across pages.

Your mind was filled with theorems and hypotheses rather than his touch. You ignored the ache that grew with every passing day, the emptiness that settled in your chest when you walked past his empty lab.

Weeks turned into a silent dance of avoidance. You'd pass him in the halls with a nod and a forced smile, the kind that didn't reach your eyes. You had too much to do, too much to prove to yourself and the world. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed, and projects demanded your attention.

Each step away from his lab was a silent declaration of independence, a rejection of the shackles of a secret affair that had begun to chafe. You found solace in the predictable patterns of your research, the comforting ritual of your experiments. The hiss of steam and the smell of chemicals had become your new lovers, demanding yet fulfilling in their own cold, unfeeling way.

On this particular day off, the sun had kissed your cheeks with a warmth that seemed to whisper of freedom as you went about your business in the bustling streets of Piltover. The cobblestones beneath your boots echoed with the promise of a day filled with your own pursuits, away from the prying eyes and whispers of the academy.

You'd visited the market, bartered for rare ingredients needed for your latest experiment, and even treated yourself to a cup of steaming coffee at your favorite café. The sweet scent of baking bread wafted through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the city's ever-present industrial heartbeat.

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, you made your way to the lab, the weight of your pack filled with books and equipment a testament to your dedication. You pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into the familiar coolness, the scent of dust and knowledge greeting you like an old friend.

The lab was empty, save for the ever-present glow of the crystal tech that hummed quietly in the background. The place felt eerily silent without the usual banter between you and your colleagues. But today was different. Today, you had agreed to help Jayce, and that meant a brief re-entry into the space you had so carefully extricated yourself from.

You set your things aside and began to prep the equipment, your mind racing through the list of tasks you had set for yourself. The sound of your own breathing seemed amplified in the quiet, a stark contrast to the days when you and Viktor had filled the room with the music of your passionate whispers.

You tried to ignore the memories that clung to the corners like shadows, the ghosts of your former self that whispered of what you'd been giving up. Instead, you focused on the here and now, the thrill of discovery that awaited in your research.

The hours ticked by, the soft click of glassware and the scratch of quill on parchment the only noises to break the silence. You had just finished calibrating an instrument when the door swung open, the sound echoing through the room.

You looked up, expecting Jayce, but instead found Viktor standing there, his eyes cold and distant. He didn't say a word, just strode over to his workstation, his movements sharp and precise. A flicker of annoyance danced across his features, as if your very presence was an unwelcome interruption to his solitude.

Your heart skipped a beat, a traitorous reminder of the attraction that still simmered between you. You straightened your back, determined not to let him affect you. You had your own work to do, your own path to forge.

The tension grew thick, a palpable force that seemed to pulse with every beat of your heart. You decided to ignore him, to act as if he were just another piece of the lab's furniture. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, his silence grew deafening, a stark contrast to the electric conversations you used to share.

Finally, unable to resist the urge, you called out to him, "Jayce said he'd be by so you guys could work on some things, and asked if I'd help. You guys are still doing that tonight?"

Viktor's head snapped up, his gaze piercing. "Jayce?" he repeated, the name leaving a bitter taste in the air. "What does he need from us?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore the way his eyes raked over you. "Some kind of new project. He said it was urgent."

Viktor's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "And he just assumed you'd come running?"

The accusation in his tone stung, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sound sharp and brittle. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" you said, your voice a challenge. "It's not like I have anything better to do on my day off, right?"

He took a step closer, his expression darkening. "Why do you always have to be so...defiant?" The word hung in the air like a challenge, a silent dare to push him further.

"Is that what you think?" you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm thick in your voice. "That I come here to get bitched at?"

Viktor's eyes flashed with something that was not quite anger, but something far more primal. "You know exactly why you come here," he murmured, his voice low and intense. It was true; his authority and how he chose to use it had become an addiction, a secret thrill you craved even as you hated the feeling of being so utterly under his control.

You feeling emboldened by the challenge in his gaze, replied with a smirk, "Oh, I see. So it is all about power with you, is it?" You hadn't meant to goad him, but the words slipped out, a tiny rebellion against his coldness. You turned back to your work, pretending to ignore him, but every nerve ending was tingling with anticipation.

Suddenly, the sound of ripping fabric filled the room, making you jump.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked without turning around, a smirk playing on your lips. You knew exactly what he was up to. It was a game you'd played before, one of dominance and submission that had become your twisted dance in the shadows of the academy.

When you did finally look up, you met his eyes, a thrill racing through you as you took in the long strip of cloth in his hand. The fire in his gaze was unmistakable, and you felt a shiver of excitement dance down your spine.

You knew this game all too well, the one where he'd prove his dominance and you'd pretend to resist, even though deep down, you craved the loss of control. It was a game you loved to play...

"You forget yourself," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air. "You forget who it is you're speaking to."

You rolled your eyes, the gesture filled with a blend of exasperation and arousal. "Do I really?" you replied, turning back to your work, pretending to ignore the electricity that crackled in the air between you.

The sound of his footsteps followed by the clicking of his crutch grew louder as he approached, each step echoing in the cavernous space of the lab. You could feel his presence behind you, a physical force that sent shivers down your spine.

You rolled your eyes and turned to face him, your heart racing. He towered over you, the fabric still clutched in his hand, his expression a storm of unspoken intent.

"I'm not afraid of you, Viktor," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. But as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at you when you were wrapped in his arms, the tenderness that had briefly softened his features before he'd pushed you away. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal, one that could either purr or pounce without warning.

He stepped closer, the fabric still clutched in his hand. "You should be," he said, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate in your very core. His gaze was unyielding, a silent command that sent a thrill of fear and desire through your body.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrists, spinning you around with surprising agility despite his injured leg. In one swift motion, he bound your hands behind your back, the cloth tight and unyielding.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and arousal escaping your lips. His grip on your hair was firm, the pain a sudden, sharp reminder of the dynamics that had always underpinned your secret encounters. But this time, there was something different in his eyes—a coldness, a detachment that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You want to play games?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "Fine. But remember, I always win sweetness."

He yanked you closer, your back pressed against his chest, you could feel the heat of his desire through the layers of your clothing. You squirmed, trying to pull away, but his grip was like iron, his fingers digging into your skin just shy of pain. His other hand reached around, capturing your jaw and tilting your face up to meet his.

"You want this," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to resonate through your very bones. "You always want this."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his intense gaze, your cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and desire.

You bit back a smile, feeling the thrill of the chase, and whispered, "Fuck you," with a laugh that you hoped conveyed the right mix of brattiness and challenge.

Viktor's smile grew predatory as he watched you struggle against the bonds, your eyes flashing with both defiance and want. He leaned down, his breath a warm caress against your cheek, and whispered, "Don't worry, my dear, I plan to."

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