#viktor x fem! reader

[thehistoriangirl]

Hey bestieee can I get uhhhhh.......what u think vik would like to get as a present for the holidays and what he would give reader in return

Hi bestie! Of course ^^ here is it, hope you like it <3

Loving Gifts

Viktor x Fem!(Artist!)Reader----1.2K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff | Slightly Suggestive at the end |

A dry, cold winter air flowed across the wide boulevards in the Commercial District, with Viktor adjusting the cozy red blanket around his neck to cover up his mouth and nose. With the sky rapidly tinted orange, he saw the Christmas lightning starting to turn on in each of the buildings around him.

He leaned against a wall, consulting the list tucked inside his pocket. 

-Dress (?)

-Custom jewelry  -> next anniversary. 

-Set of pastels (?)

Viktor had been cracking his brain to think about a gift for you ever since the coming of autumn. Last year, he had crafted you a lamp in the shape of a cherry tree, the one that was next to your drawing table, sending pink and golden hues around your atelier like in a perpetual dusk. 

This year, however, he had no idea what to give you, which made him feel quite anxious every time he entered a store, watching around the shelves to see if something caught his attention, like a call, only to end up with empty hands and another blow of gelid wind as he walked toward other business. 

What if he gave you something you didn’t like? He could imagine your eyes dropping slightly and the tense smile expanding your lips. For all the time you’d been together, Viktor had acquired the ability to read you like his favorite book.

He already had a little custom music box half-finished in his lab, kept inside the only drawer that held a key so you wouldn’t find it those times you liked to help him clean his workstation, waiting for Viktor to finish his job for the day. He snuck inside the Music Faculty to ask for a recording of the song that got you both together at the Academy Anniversary Foundation Gala two years ago when he gathered his courage to ask you for a dance.

Viktor smiled at the memory, the characteristic smell of oil and wood familiar as he entered the arts and crafts store you frequent, many of those visits with his arm interlocked in yours. 

The saleswoman smiled at him. “Hello, Sir, what can I help you with?” she said. “Is the Ma'am sick?”

“Ah—” he hung his lips ajar at the name ‘Ma’am’, because you two weren’t married, though you never corrected her, so, why would he? “No. I came here for her… eh, her Christmas gift.”

“Oh, of course!” She responded with a wide beam; her brown eyes squinted. “Do you have something in mind?”

Viktor looked around the clean and organized store, with wooden pencils and brushes, lines of canvas shown behind the counter, and a thousand rainbows shown in sets of crayons, pencils, pastels, and oil paintings.

“Yes. One of your set of pastels, please.” Viktor tapped his fingers along the handle of his cane, looking at the people walking hand by hand passing by him. He sighed, consulting his pocket watch. It was strange the way he’d grown to miss you, just comparable to how he yearned to keep inventing, to keep creating.

“Can you wrap it with newspaper?” he added. “She’s rather… curious, you see.” If you saw a box wrapped in gift paper, there was no doubt you’d start to peek. He thought you were just as mischievous as a cat. And just as adorable. 

“Of course, Sir.” For some minutes, the empty store filled with the sound of paper folding and tape being cut. “Here you have it. Careful, there. It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Thank you.” Viktor put the gift under his free arm, walking out of the store once he had paid.

The air hit even colder now that he had imagined how warm your embrace would be once he arrived home.

“But first,” he mumbled to himself, accommodating his beret and scarf before restarting his walk up the hill. “Let’s hide this in the lab.”

*~*~*~*

You put the photograph aside after watching it for the thousandth time, gently sliding it inside a book as you continue to paint the last details of Eve’s dress, the patches of clothes sewn into the fabric twin to the ones in little Viktor’s pants.

He looked so happy, standing between his parents with pride—you hoped you could mimic the childish delight on his face with your painting. Even if you weren’t good at restoring photos, why shouldn’t you replicate the image in your personal style?

Viktor had shown you the photo after some months of dating, getting it out of his notebook with its edges winkled and the paper thin for being held so much; the brown surface dotted with multiple stains. And yet, love kept emanating from it.

Now, Viktor would have the memory on a bigger canvas he could hang whenever he wished. You hoped he liked the gift, though it’ll be quite obvious wrapped under the tree once the painting was ready—you wished to give him only the best, just as he did with you. 

The brush slid against the canvas, wrist swaying to paint the thin decorative lines of the wallpaper inside his childhood home, the edge of a cold hearth behind the family tree, with Viktor sitting on a chair in the middle of his parents, the familiar toy boat in his lap. 

A smile grazed your face, looking at the round face of the small boy, amber eyes shining even in the now dim photograph. You were blessed with that gaze, too, every time he talked about his new projects and ideas, with the lamp on the nightstand giving his eyes a shine that could rival the stars.

Even when Viktor looked at you, a smile so big you could his adorable tooth gap.

You heard the entrance door creak open, settling your brush down in a vase with water.

“Moje láska, I’m home,” Viktor said, his voice muffled through the closed door of your studio. “Where are you, hmm?”

“I’m going!” You almost interrupted him, carrying the canvas toward the far end of the room, facing the closed window. 

Viktor was expecting you in the hallway, an eyebrow raised upon seeing your hands, and fingers stained with paint.

“Working still, my muse?” he muttered playfully, his hands intertwined with yours as he pulled you against him to give you a kiss on the forehead, then another on the cheek, to finally grace your lips with his own. 

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him another, longer, kiss. 

“Yes, handsome,” you teased, poking his cheek that was starting to dust with a pink shade. 

“Should I let you work, then?” He hummed, his hands on your hips. “Wouldn’t like to delay your duties and get you in trouble.”

“Not at all. I only have to let the paint dry to start with the new layer tomorrow.” Tugging his hand, you pried away from the studio, so Viktor couldn’t ask to see the painting and spoil the surprise. “Come on, let’s have dinner together.”

Viktor chuckled, his thumb smudging a droplet of paint across the reverse of your palm. “Maybe I should bathe you first,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You’re always a masterpiece but today… eh, you have more paint on you.”

You laughed, one of your hands over Viktor’s. “Naughty.” Leaning closer to him, you pretended to smell him, scrunching your nose in a dramatic gesture. “You’re also very stinky.”

“That didn’t stop you from kissing me, did it?” His thumb circled your hip, fingers gently kneading the skin. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Never,” you giggled.

“Come on, my stinky dove,” Viktor teased, nuzzling his face against your hair. “Let’s draw a bath in the bathtub. I'm quite cold, so perhaps you could warm me up, yes?”

[silassinclair]

Hi! It's me the "Maddox with a sassy y/n" annon. Omg i just saw your post and it made my Whole Week! 😭

Thank you so much!

Anyway, i have a new request (if that is alright). I saw that you have a yandere Boxer but i didn't see to much info on him.

Could we get an introduction or some information for him? I'm really curious.

As always, have great day/night! ✨

Sorry this took a while to answer, just came back from the Philippines and I saw this req in my inbox. I’ve been waiting to write for him so now I have the chance to!! Hope you like it :D Also the beginning of this is really long, boring, and angsty but bear with me ya'll :) Also the Russian is google translate so it may be inaccurate :(

Masterlist Here!!

Next Part Here!!

Yandere Boxer x Reader

Viktor Markov was not the man you thought he was; well, not anymore. You both were raised in a small eastern European town. Him being the boy next door; always covered in dirt and was the sweetest little boy who would bring you flowers and bugs that he found. And you were the weird little girl who would collect the rocks and flowers that he gifted you with a smile. So naturally the two of you became friends, two peas in a pod.

He always had your back and you always had his. Growing up together in eastern Europe was hard. Both of you came from a pretty rough neighborhood and home life but that didn't stop you two from being happy. After all you only needed each other. It was just you two against the world. And it was like that for years.

Well, that was until high school. Viktor stopped talking to you in Sophomore year. Your calls went ignored, socials un-interacted, and texts delivered. So you just gave up. You no longer chased after him or begged him to tell you what was wrong when all he did was give you a cold shoulder. And honestly, you just didn't want to be around him anymore.

He got in with a bad crowd. Some upperclassmen guys who would just skip class to smoke. And seeing your childhood best friend become one of them broke your heart. You tried, you really did. But instead the blonde snapped at you, telling you to stop acting like his Mother and that he didn't need you anymore. And he was right, Viktor was more grown up now. Hard jawline, firm muscles, and standing at a staggering 6'3 feet tall.

He didn't need your back anymore.

And you didn't need his.

High school was a blur. You kept to your studies and only had a small circle of friends that consisted of all girls who have all been friends longer than before you ever came around. You were the grass friend. They all walked on the sidewalk while you trailed behind to the side; always stepping in the mud and grass. They weren't really your friends, you just didn't want to be alone. And they didn't see you as a friend, they just didn't want you to be alone. Pitiful isn't it?

But none of it mattered. It was all over and done in the blink of an eye. After high school was university and in university was medical school and after medical school was a new beginning. Being a docotor was never really your dream. It was your parent's dream and they just wanted the best for their little girl. You didn't want to disapoint them and go to culinary school like what you really wanted. So you worked and went to med school at the same time.

It was hard. It really was. You have no friends, no social life, and no one has your back. Yet it's your job to have people's backs. Ironic and unfair. But that's life.

Money was getting tight. Paying off student loans and working multiple jobs was getting exhausting. Living? No, it felt like you were dying. But you got offered a job you could not refuse. A patient came into your office. It was an older man in his early 50s.

"You're quite quiet for a doctor." He says. "Shy thing are you?"

You give him a silent nod. Hopefully this conversation doesn't take the turn you don't want it to take. Getting harassed by patients as a woman doctor is scarily common.

"I need a doctor. One like you; diligent, quiet, and quite the eye candy. Work for me krasivyy (beautiful). The pay is better than working in this heap clinic."

You eye him oddlyand whisper, "Why do you need me? Do you want me to be one of those underworld doctors or something? If so then no. I won't be patching up assassins or serial killers."

The man laughs, his voice booming in the small examination room.

"No no. You won't be dealing with any of those type. But this still is underground as you say. I own an underground boxing ring. And I need a doctor to patch up my fighters. Illegal, but good pay no?

You thought about it for two minutes then finally gave your answer.

“When do I start?”

The man’s name is Radko. And right now you’re in his gym. It’s dark, stinky, and full of shirtless men training for their next match. You thought you felt out of place in school? Nope, this is 100x worse. And some of these guys are acting like they’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stop looking at me like that weirdo.” You think to yourself while walking past a guy on a bench who’s wiping the sweat off his chest. His hungry gaze on you sends shivers down your spine.

“Ignore their stares.” Radko puts a rough hand on your shoulder. “They’re not used to seeing pretty women.”

“Yeah I can see that.” You mutter.

You two stop in front of the door near the back of the gym. It says “Clinic” in front of the door. He opens the door and you’re greeted with a surprisingly clean office. Radko must have cleaned up a little when he knew you would be coming.

“This is where you’ll be. Some guys will walk in pretty roughed up. Just patch em up abd send them on their way. If any of em try anything with you, you tell me right away. Okay?”

Radko was like a Dad and you liked that about him. A pretty intimidating Dad who owns an illegal boxing ring but what does that matter. Doesn’t particularly make him a bad person.

“Okay. Thank you.” You say with a warm smile.

“Ah you’re so milyy (cute)! Please don’t quit within the first week, I don’t think my heart can handle it if you go.” Radko says and hugs you. You give the big man a pat on the back in return.

“I’ll leave you to it now. You’ll receive your pay bi-weekly. See you now.”

And with that you were left alone. You were left in a small private clinic you could call your own. Maybe this job wouldn’t be as bad as you thought? But all positive thoughts flew out the window when your first patient of the day walked in.

Tall, pale, short blonde hair, scarred torso, muscle on muscle, and piercing blue eyes. All features of someone whom you thought you would never see again. Who you never wanted to see again.

“Kroshechnyy?” (Tiny)

God that nick name. There was a time it would make you smile and laugh. But now it just pissed you off. He had the audacity to call you that as if you two were still buddy buddy? No, fuck that. Fuck him.

“It’s Y/n to you now. What do you want Viktor?”

The man’s face creased with pain. Not physical, no, something worse.

“What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.” His voice was a deeper timbre from when you last spoke to him Sophomore year. He walks closer to you and you can smell his sweat from training but also… Jean Paul Gaultier? Why would you wear designer fragrance at a gym? Weirdo.

Little did you know when he saw you walk in the gym he immediately raced to the locker room to freshen up and see you.

“I’m a doctor. I got a side job from Radko.” You explain swiftly. “If you’re uninjured then please leave. Other patients may come in with actual reasons to see me.”

Rather than face to face you’re face to chest with him. How the hell did he get so tall? You crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

His expression stiffens. His usual cold demeanor returns.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t for you. It’s dangerous.”

You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage. Now please leave me alone. You’re the last person I ever want to see.”

Viktor ignores the comment and his gaze remains ice cold. You nearly shiver, did the room temperature drop?

“Stop acting childish. Tell Rad that you quit.”

“But I’m not quitting.”

He steps closer.

“I’ll make you.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

He bends down to your level and scoffs.

“I don’t need to lift a finger. You’ll get scared and run off with your tail between those little legs of yours. These men here will eat you alive.”

Did he not think you knew that before you signed up for all this? You were aware of what you walked into. Underground gym, surrounded by men, all physically fit to the max. They could rip you in half. But you needed this job. There wasn’t time to be afraid.

“Yeah yeah I know. I don’t need your lecture. Now get out before I tell Radko.”

Viktor leans closer. His nose mere centimeters from yours.

“Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”

“If I get hurt then I’ll just patch myself up. I didn’t go through 4 years of med school just to cry when I’m in pain.”

The tall Russian growls lowly to himself and leaves, not before slamming the door of course.

“Fuck…”

This new job of yours just got worse tenfold.

It’s been about two weeks since you started working here. And you’ve met all of Radko’s men. They weren’t as bad as you thought they would be. Yeah they would flirt with you but not in the gross way. They knew when to quit.

Well, all of them except for Vladimir. The same one who eyed you like a piece of meat the first day you came here. Everyday he would come to the clinic to shoot his shot. And everyday you turned him down.

“Little kotenok (kitten) is still feisty.” Vladimir clicks his tongue. He manspreads in the examination chair, flexing his ab muscles and turning his head to the side to show off his impressive jawline. But all it does is un-impress you.

“If you’re going to waste my time like this everyday then I’m going to tell Radko.” You firmly state and cross your arms.

Like a kicked puppy the boxer whines, “Nooooo. I’m sorry please don’t kick me out. This is the only room besides Coach’s that is air conditioned.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Not my problem, do an ice bath or something.”

Vladimir chuckles and goes to say something else but stops himself when he sees and hears the door open. You also turn your attention to the door, wondering who it is and why they didn’t knock.

“Get out.” Viktor says. His voice like stone, as is his glare. His bloody swollen eye only ads to his intimidating aura.

Vladimir gets out of the chair and groans. “Way to be a cockblock Vicky.” He says mockingly.

You were about to shoot in and say how there was no way you would give him the light of day but Viktor had other plans. His fist makes contact with Vladimir’s abdomen with a mean punch. Making the other man wheeze and keel over in pain.

“Get the fuck out.” Viktor grabs him by the hair and kicks him out of the office. Literally. The door then slams shut, leaving you alone with your heated childhood friend.

“Thanks…” You mutter. Unable to look into his eyes, well… eye. The other is swollen shut.

He grunts and sits on the examination bed. Getting into doctor mode you walk over to Viktor and assess the damage. There’s a few bruises on his ribs but his eyes seem to be the worst. Delicately you touch part of the bruised eye and he inwardly flinches, making you draw your hand back in an instant.

“What happened?” You softly ask.

“Alexei sucker punched me. Dick.”

You stifle a laugh, making your patient deadpan. “Typical Alexi. I’ll tell him off the next time he comes in here complaining about his stomach aches.”

Viktor and you are silent when you rub ointment on his bruises. After the ointment is all done you hand him an icepack.

“Use this for the eye.”

He nods and thanks you with a silent nod. Then, he leaves just like that.

After that you would see more of Viktor and less Vladimir. To be honest you’ve been seeing less of everyone. Everyday Viktor came in with new reasons to come to you. Headaches, head trauma, bruises, scratches, and the worst was a dislocation.

“What is it this time?” You don’t even need to face the door to know who it is.

“He needs help!”

You whip around immediately, nearly spilling your coffee. You see Alexi and Cain at the door and draped over their shoulders is an unconscious Vladimir. You run over to them and tell them to lay Vladimir down on the bed gently while you assess his condition.

“What happened!?” You say worriedly. He was barely breathing. You begin doing chest compressions.

“We found him outside. Some of those bastards from west gym probably did this to him…” Cain says, his eyes are full of rage.

The compressions aren’t working. So instead you ready up the life support. He won’t last long with traumatic brain injuries like this.

“What’s gonna happen to him Doc?” Alexi sounds the most worried. He’s just a kid, only being 17.

“I’m putting him under life support.” And it was damn hard to do it on your own.

“Thank you.” Cain says. He puts a hand on the small of Alexi’s back. “Let’s leave her alone. She’s busy.”

The two men leave. Leaving you alone with Vladimir who has one foot in hell. No offense Vladimir, but no way you’re going to heaven. All day you stay by Vladimir’s side. Other men come in to check on him or get patch ups. And you go about your job, leaving the unconscious man to rest on the bed.

If I knew she would be stuck to his side like glue then I never would have beaten the fucker half to death. The plan was to kill him but the stubborn bastard just didn’t want to die. I watch Y/n from outside the clinic. The window’s blinds are open. She’s so close yet so far; always out of my reach. Part of it is my fault. I was the one who pushed her away after all.

But I had no choice. I didn’t want her involved with the people I was involved with in high school. I needed them in order to get some side jobs. Hell, a couple of them box for Radko too at this gym. I thought Y/n would be gone from my life for good, but I was wrong. I thought God was punishing me for the things I have done but it seems like he took pity on me just this once by bringing her back to me and letting me have a second chance.

But so far I’m making no progress. What even is love? I know I love her but I don’t know how. All I know is that I need to protect her from all the wolves here. I already staked my claim on her but one fucker didn’t want to listen. Vladimir, that egotistical thorn in my side. The next chance I get I'll kill him for good. It's not like this is my first time killing for her after all.

High school was when I first took someone's life. Some upperclassman bitch was harassing Y/n. I couldn't stand watching her suffer. And I couldn't comfort her like before when we were young; by this time I already cut off Y/n for good. But I knew there was something I could do. So I killed her. And I killed anyone who dared breathe Y/n's name wrong.

I'll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Slowly, little by little, I'll win her back. She'll be mine again and we'll be even closer than friends. But for now I'll do what I can to keep her safe from the sidelines. Even if it means she'll find out and hate me forever.

[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

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You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Too Sweet

3rd chapter

SUMMARY: Being in charge of someone's education was heavier than you thought, but tonight doesn't have to be all about books and notes. PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WK: 4K WARNINGS: bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, cursing A/N: slow slow slow burn Previous chapter

Next chapter

After that encounter in the cafeteria you're left feeling nervous and mad, how could she make fun of you so lightly? Didn't her sister told her you weren't the one giving her booze?

You decide to skip your next lesson and head straight home. Once you're inside the elevator, you look for your phone inside your bag and send a text to Caitlyn asking her what time is she coming over.

The elevator stops at your floor and while you're searching for your keys, you see Caitlyn standing in front of your apartment door, carrying some bags on one hand and the other one typing on her phone.

"I didn't know you were here." you say as you approach her, smiling and looking curiously at her bags.

"I wanted to surprise you but I forgot to bring the spare keys you gave me." she says as you turn the key around and open the door.

Once inside, Caitlyn leaves the bags on the table and takes out the fast food she had bought, preparing everything for both of you to eat lunch together. You get into the bathroom and wash your hands and face, then look into the mirror; you felt like shit, and you could feel your mind spinning a thousand miles a second— guilt was cursing through your veins and you couldn't help but wonder what it was about.

Except you did know.

You grab a towel and dry both your hands and face, feeling like cold water didn't do much to your anxiety so you get out of the bathroom and sit in front of your best friend at the table. Both of you start chatting about your day; she tells you that her boss, Marcus, had been driving her crazy all day long until she finally found those papers he was asking for and then let her off for the day. You told her about all the exams you had to grade and then mentioned that Violet's was in that pile too.

"So you took revenge, huh." she says jokingly and chuckles.

"In my defense, it was a mess anyway and," you feel your stomach tied up in a knot, thinking if it was really okay for you to tell her— no, to do it entirely, "now I have to tutor her, so the universe punished me for it already."

You can't decipher what her expression means while she's looking at you but she keeps chewing on her food and laughes lightly. The awkwardness doesn't leave your body and you start thinking you may be going insane, why did you think so much of it? It was just tutoring.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's smarter than she gives on."

What was supposed to make you feel relieved just had the opposite effect. You didn't know they were that close, Caitlyn never mentioned her before that night and now it felt like she was keeping more from you than she might be telling. She is supposed to be your best friend, why wouldn't she tell you she was seeing someone if they were that close?

Food already eaten, you get off your seat and clean the table, grabbing the remaining leftovers and putting them in the fridge for later. You felt a bit sad, and maybe jealous. There was a part of Caitlyn's life you weren't aware of and, for some reason, now you were afraid to ask.

Working after classes sucked, but what sucked even more was having to look for someone who could cover her at work; it couldn't be just anyone. She wouldn't care if the place belonged to someone else and her life didn't literally depend on it, but "The Last Drop" was hers to take care of now. Well, almost.

"Can't pick you up today, Powder." she says, holding her phone on her ear with one hand and organizing bottles on the shelf with the other. "Come straight home, okay? I don't want you messing around again."

Violet could hear her younger sister complaining on the phone about how controlling she was and what plans she already had that night with her friends. It was always the same argument so she let Powder vent about it while she was rearranging the expensive bottles' shelf, hoping that the old wood would resist the weight and not make her lose thousands of dollars. She needed to replace those shelves.

"Look, Pow-pow," holding her phone between her neck and shoulder, Vi kept on trying to convince her sister, "bring Ekko if you want, I could use his help anyway."

With her little sister convinced, Violet put down the phone on the bar and looked over the place; everything needed to be done and she was already feeling tired, both physically and mentally.

All day she had been going around, signing papers and then attending classes. The only time in the day she could actually relax— or unleash some stress, was in the ring; throwing punches, sweating, analyzing her opponent's movements just to finally bring them down. She felt capable, strong and even good at it.

But this? Going to college, watching over her sister, working and barely sleeping; that was hard. It felt impossible at times.

"You've got a good heart," she remembered her father saying, "don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you."

Those words were like fuel for her, that memory has kept her going for years and it still worked now. She had to bear, just a bit longer.

Violet grabbed her phone again and sent a text to Caitlyn, letting her know that she'd probably be busy the rest of the week because she needed to study. Hard. She got an instant reply, "We'll meet as soon as you can."

Feeling relieved, Vi sighed and continued cleaning and organizing everything at the bar. She was thankful for meeting Caitlyn, it was not long ago and she was already changing her entire life�� is this how hope felt? It's been years since she had something to look forward to.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, The Last Drop was ready to be opened but still no one could cover for her. Hearing the keys from the backdoor alerted Violet that her sister was finally home, so she went to greet both Powder and her friend.

"I brought some donuts from work." said Powder, leaving the box on the table. "Although they're dry, that's why I got to bring them."

Violet grabbed one and muttered something about the donuts being dry indeed, but she shrugged it off and ate one anyway. She started her way back to the bar, Ekko following behind her and eating his own dry donut.

"Powder told me about your tutoring lessons," he said as he was chewing, "I can cover for you here, you know."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm offering." he replied as soon as he saw his friend's expression, she was clearly uncomfortable and unexperienced when it came to receiving some extra hands. "C'mon, Vi. I know how the business works and I can handle tough costumers."

Violet had to think about it for a bit; it's true that he knew how the bar worked and handling drunken men wouldn't be a problem for him— if anything, God help the idiot who dared to mess with him, but she had never left anyone to run the place without supervision, not even her sister. However, she didn't really have any other option, she couldn't afford to close for even one night. Those debts wouldn't pay themselves.

"Be puntual, no drinking while working and no letting Powder steal any booze, got it?"

"Got it."

She gave him a nod and finished her donut, then went to the back to let Powder know that she was going to be busy the rest of the night. After a short speech about being responsible, helping Ekko and making her swear that if anything came up she would call her immediately, Violet made her way upstairs and into the apartment.

It was strange having some free time on her hands, she was used to running around and work all night until late, but she figured it was a well deserved break; although she was worried about leaving Ekko and Powder in charge of the place.

"She's ready," Violet thought to herself, it was about time to give her sister more credit. She deserved it, after all; Powder was way smarter than most people, only lacking in concentration but that's normal for a teenager, and Vi wouldn't want her little sister feeling like she had to behave like an adult so soon.

Headed towards the bathroom, Violet decided she could use a hot shower and got inside the bathtub, filled it up with water and added her sister's bath salts into it. She had never tried them, but Powder was always telling her about how relaxed she would feel after if she tried them, so she did. And maybe it was because she was completely drained of energy, but it felt like they were working.

She could feel her body relaxing, her shoulders no longer tense and her eyes blinking heavily— these salts were like magic.

Once she finished cleaning and drying her body, she walked into her bedroom and chose some comfortable pants and a big sized T-shirt, then some bandages for her knuckles; today's training had been more intense than usual and she had forgotten to clean her wounds and covering them.

Back into the living room, Violet turned on the TV and laid down on the couch. This was the whole day off experience, now she just had to wait for her new tutor to text her so she could let her in.

Except, she didn't ask nor she gave her number, but there was no time to think about that as her eyes started closing on their own until she fell profoundly asleep.

The sun was already going down and Caitlyn had already left your place, wishing you good luck and telling you to let her know once you were back safe and sound. After taking a shower, you go to your room and decide what to wear; you weren't sure if you were supposed to dress comfortable or as if you were going out— it was a bar, after all. You remember Violet saying she would close the place so you could study at peace and decide to wear some casual but cute clothes, then grab your bag and turn off all the lights. Once you're out of your apartment, you grab your phone and attempt to send her a text, but she never gave you her number, and you didn't gave her yours. You shrug it off and think that she must surely remember you were going over and call the elevator.

You decide you would walk to the bar instead of calling a cab, it was a beautiful night and you were still going to arrive earlier than expected, hoping the walk would calm your nerves even a little. It was the first time you had to tutor someone, you were used to grading exams and doing other academic work but being in charge of someone's education felt heavier than that, specially when you were asked to do it by Viktor; he was more than a professor to you, you looked up to him and you wanted to be as smart and dedicated as he was. It was clear you didn't want to let him down, that's the only reason you accepted in the first place.

The Last Drop was near now and you could see all the lightning coming out from the inside, strong neon colorful lights illuminating even its surroundings outside, the big shiny sign spelling its name and announcing the beggining of your night with your new student. Sighing heavily, you open the door and let the loud music penetrate your ears, you could smell the scent of cigars and sweat, people sitting in different tables chatting and drinking. You were confused now, this seemed far from being closed and you couldn't see Violet anywhere. Walking over to the bar counter, you can see the barman working hard as he was preparing two drinks simultaneously while receiving more orders from group of girls who were clearly going to keep him busy.

"Excuse me—" you say lifting up your finger in an attempt to get his attention, but he doesn't even flinch. "Excuse me!" you yell a bit louder and he turns around to look at you.

"Hey, what are you having?" he asks now looking at you.

"I'm looking for Violet. She works here, right?"

"Oh, you must be her tutor." he says while smiling, you give him a small nod. "That door back there," you follow his finger pointing to an old wooden door, "go upstairs and knock on your left."

Thanking him, you walk over to the door he pointed and read its sign "Personal Only", feeling a bit odd about crossing a forbidden door, you twist the knob and walk upstairs; it was a small place, you could feel the humidity on your skin and the lightbulb over your head twinkling like begging to be retired, the stairs were squeaking under your steps until you were finally facing the left door the barman had mentioned. You knock on it twice and wait, although a few minutes pass by and no one answers, so you knock three times and yell Violet's name. Still no answer. You hear some steps coming from the stairs and turn your head around.

"No answer?" moving her blue haired braids behind her shoulders, she shoves her hand inside her pockets and takes out a key. You greet her as she opens the door and lets you in first, chuckling for no apparent reason to you and leaves her keys on the table. You leave your bag on the same spot, feeling a bit uncomfortable being at someone else's house, someone you don't know that didn't even open the door for you. Maybe she forgot you were coming. "Vi, wake up!" you heard Jinx yelling.

Peaking to where the yelling came from, you see Violet laying on the couch with one leg spreaded and her feet touching the floor. She shuffles while her sister keeps yelling at her and then opens her eyes, looks at Jinx and then at you. Her eyes open wide and she sits straight on the couch, rubbing her eyes and murmurring, "I fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit." her sister answers while she opens the fridge and takes out a bottle. "I'll be downstairs, bye." she opens the door and leaves both of you alone.

"Sorry, I wasn't planning on sleeping," she says now looking at you.

"Well, we should begin." you sit down at the table and watch her sitting in front of you. She handles you a glass of water and you softly thank her, taking a sip and feeling your throat was more drier than you noticed, your hands were shaking as you grabbed everything you brought from your bag; some books, your own notes and her failed exam.

"Cait said you're good at this," she says, "so please enlighten me." the smirk she gives you makes you both furious and nervous, you couldn't figure if she was really taking this seriously.

You decide to be the bigger person and ignore all her snarky comments so the lesson could begin. To your surprise, she took in everything you told her and she was a quick learner as well; listening carefully to your explanations and even taking her own notes, asking questions about the book and what she lacked in the exam. You tell her she should focus more on certain chapters and the logical part of the subject because, even though Viktor appreciated debates on his classes, his exams put emphasis on the scientific part and not so much on the student's interpretations.

As you continue the lesson, you start to think Caitlyn was right— Violet was way smarter than you thought.

Both of you decide to take a little break from studying and she brings snacks, putting the books and notes aside, she asks, "So how do you know Cait?"

"We've been friends since highschool, " you answer, "she was running some sort of campaign so each class could vote for a delegate or something. She convinced me to sign and we're inseparable since then." Violet laughs at that and makes you smile.

"Sounds like her." Curiosity got the best out of you and you ask her the same question. "Well, we—" someone opens the door, it was the barman. He starts telling Violet he needed her help with a drunk costumer, saying he was getting violent and couldn't calm him down. "Be right back." she says and leaves with him.

You sit there eating chips and waiting for her to be back, but then half an hour passed and you were feeling like a soldier's wife. Worry grows in the back of your head, what if something happened to her? Violet looked strong but that drunk violent customer could be stronger, and she didn't seem like the type of girl to walk out of a fight.

Unable to deal with your own head, you get off your seat and walk to the door. Just when you were about to twist its knob, the door suddenly slides wide open, startling you. It was Violet, standing in front of you, a bit sweaty but generally unharmed; she was so close to you, the air leaving out of her mouth when she apologized for taking so long felt like a fresh breeze against your face and you couldn't stop starring at her little scar on her upper lip. You wonder how she got that one and if she had any other somewhere on her body.

Before you could shake that thought off, you realised she might have noticed your stare because she licked her lip, just where the scar was, and smirked. Blood rushing to your cheeks, you turn your gaze somewhere else and say, "It's okay, I was just worried..."

"Come." she says and starts walking downstairs. You follow her steps into the bar, still feeling embarrassed, and at the end of the stairs you notice the overwhelming silence compared to the loudness of music when you first arrived. The bar was now closed and empty, just the two of you there. She goes behind the counter and grabs a bottle of whisky, pouring it into two glasses while you walk around to take a better look at the place. Warm lighting was on now that the neon lights were off, beautifully illuminating the decorated walls; pictures with different people on it hanged on them, most had a very muscular and tough looking man smiling with someone— you couldn't recognize anyone, but you could tell they were close to each other and that moment was definitely worth immortalizing on a frame. There were also drawings clearly made by a child, full of colours and love and joy, and you see one with two girls in it; a pink haired one with boxing gloves on her hands, fighting some sort of wolf while the blue haired one was cheering on her, a little toy monkey by her side. It made you smile.

"Powder made them." Violet says behind you, scaring you off a bit. She approaches you and hands you a drink, standing beside you now.

"Is it Jinx or Powder?" you ask sipping a bit of your whisky, you can feel it burning your throat and your nose scrunches making Violet chuckle.

"Powder, but everyone calls her Jinx." she answers, "Stupid nickname."

You hummed and watched her going behind the bar counter again, so you decide to sit in one of those fancy tall seats in front of her. You put your glass down and she refills it then her own.

"What happened to the violent costumer?" you ask.

"Kicked his ass and sent him home." she sips her whisky like it's juice, meanwhile you're already feeling dizzy. Strong liquor shouldn't be near you but you couldn't refuse when she refilled your glass again. You had to admit, her presence was strong; she was someone you couldn't ignore if she walked into a room, it's like her confidence drawn you in, clouding your senses and making you want more. It didn't exactly help that she was hot as hell. Still, you couldn't get out of your head the fact that the night you met her, she had been locked up in the bathroom with your best friend.

Both of you keep drinking and chatting, your curiosity growing stronger as you ask her if she runs this place all on her own, feeling pity when she answers, "Yes, been on it since my dad died."

Doubting a little but feeling the booze cancelling your inhibitions, you ask her, "What happened to him?"

"He got sick, " her expression changes, her jaw clenches and she takes another long sip at her glass, you watch the liquor going down her throat and then she speaks again, "it was a few years ago, Powder was still a child."

"And you?" you could feel your stomach tied up in a knot.

"Someone had to take care of things." she says while looking to the wall filled with pictures and drawings, her face seemed calmed like she was already used to this kind of life but you couldn't stop the sadness. "When he was in bed, he used to do these animal-like groans because of the pain, " surprisingly she smiles at that, "Powder used to say he sounded like a wolf."

You couldn't take it anymore and started sobbing, Violet looked at you surprised and then laughed, which made you feel embarrassed.

"Don't laugh, I'm already drunk." you tell her, rubbing your eyes and looking at her with your eyes furrowed.

She walks out from behind the counter and keeps laughing, standing beside you and helping you off your seat, she says, "Can't take strong booze, cupcake?"

That dumb nickname made your face go on fire, it didn't help that she was grabbing your waist to help you keep your balance and you could smell her scent, a mix of whisky and perfume, the warmth of her body next to yours as she was guiding you upstairs again.

"You'd know that, " you tell her, trying so hard to put one feet in front of the other, "you took a pic of it."

Violet opens the door to her place and helps you inside, she walks you to her bedroom and watches you sitting down on her bed. She leaves you there and you take a look at the room, it was tidy and well organized; her night stand had a frame of Powder, herself and their father. She comes back with a cup of coffee and hands it to you, looking at you expectantly. You take a sip of the coffee and make a face of disgust.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Yeah, I can tell." you answer her, still drinking that disgusting liquid she dares to call coffee. You can feel her gaze burning on you, the concern in her eyes even if she was making fun of you, it made your heart soften.

"Stay here tonight, I'll sleep on the couch." she says and puts her hand on your shoulder.

You inhale heavily, trying to ignore the sensation of her touch, even something as small as a reassuring hand is clouding your senses now. It wasn't just the booze anymore.

"Can't you sleep in your sister's room?" you ask her, trying to put your mind somewhere else.

"That's a rat nest," she chuckles and crunches her nose, "sleeping outside is safer." You hand her the empty cup and lay down, covering your legs with the sheets, her scent was impregnated in the pillow. Violet was still looking at you, her face inexpressive.

"I never gave your sister booze, " you say and she looks at you confused, "the other night, at the party, it wasn't me."

"I know," she closes her eyes and sighs, "that's just Powder testing my patience."

"An apology would be good," you say jokingly and she chuckles.

"You know what?" she smirks and raises one eyebrow, "If your tutoring is that good and I pass my exams, I'll take it down." You laugh and tell her that you shouldn't be punished for her stupidity, so she pretends to be offended and punches you softly. She watches you blinking heavily and stands up, turning the lights off and stopping at the door frame, "Good night, cupcake."

Humming in response, you close your eyes and let sleep take over you, ignoring the vibrations coming from your phone.

TAGS: @pokiiks

[komoriiis]

umm would anyone perhaps be interested in a modern!arcane SMAU? mayhaps one about viktor and the reader going to piltovers most prestigious universities and a friendship blossoming between them as they share a class and slowly realize that they may like each other more than they thought? perchance some jealous!viktor when he sees reader getting closer to jayce? overall just some fluffy comfort and flirty banter between the two?? would you guys like a taglist just in case if i do make it you guys can be notified? idk idk just some thoughts…lmk though

[somedaylazysomeday]

Noisy - Part Four

Despite your agreements, Viktor is being very loud... Again. You go to confront him about it.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5,500

Warnings: Frustration, concern, hints of growing intimacy, unprotected sex, creampie, feelings

Previous | Masterlist

---

You couldn’t sleep.

You turned to your side, away from the window. Maybe the faint glow from behind the curtains was what had kept you awake. Or maybe all the thoughts crowding your mind were on that side of the pillow, sneaking in through your ear until they could snarl and snap inside of your brain.

Another sleepless night was not what you needed. 

A moment later, you amended the thought. If there was going to be one night you couldn’t really rest, this wasn’t the worst night for it to happen. You didn’t have anywhere to be the next day and no real plans. You could sleep as late as you needed to recover what you were losing to your racing thoughts. 

With that realization, you gave in and let your mind whir rapidly as it performed a variety of calculations it apparently thought were necessary. 

The first - and accordingly most concerning - thought was about your impending departure from the Piltover Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation. 

You had been a student at the Academy for almost a decade. Your undergraduate work had been completed on time. Graduate work had slowed you down slightly as you started taking more advanced courses that required more field work. And your doctoral program seemed to have stretched on for an eternity. That was mostly because the Academy’s work-study program had left you attending courses only half of your time. 

Even then, your main focus for the last semester had been on writing your dissertation. 

From everything you had learned about other schools, Piltover’s Academy was unique in the way dissertations were presented, especially in practical fields. Instead of a simple essay, Academy dissertations were written as a proposal. You were to identify a problem, hypothesize about causes and solutions, and create a plan to help alleviate the problem or treat those suffering from it.

When you were finished with your dissertation, you would submit it to your mentor, Professor Ukkud. Once she went through it with you and you completed any final changes, she would present it to the Council of Piltover. They would read it, discuss your proposed solutions, then give you a chance to answer their questions and defend your intended methodology. 

If you successfully defended your dissertation, you would gain a doctorate. You would also be approved a specified amount of Piltover’s money to put your proposal into action, backed by the Council. Doctors whose experiments and solutions helped people were often offered jobs in the government itself, working to improve the lives of Piltover citizens. 

Your identified problem - the pollution in the Undercity, particularly the fumes found in the Sump sector - was easily proven. The causes were of concern to Piltover. The solutions were simple and relatively cheap. It was, by all accounts, tailor-made for a successful dissertation defense.

Except that you had been advised to start over. 

Your meeting with Professor Ukkud that afternoon had been profoundly disappointing. It had been your first meeting with her since you had discussed concepts. The professor had left the Academy for several months as she delivered a beautiful boy. She and her wife had spent much of the following time bonding with their newborn son and, by the time she returned, your dissertation was almost complete. 

Which was why it was particularly heartbreaking that you had presented your lovingly-crafted work to Professor Ukkud only for her to sit in uncomfortable silence. She listened to your explanation, but pushed the dissertation back to you unread. When she finally spoke, it was with an expression of sympathy and a delicate sort of tone. 

“I understand your passion for this project and I think it would have a positive impact on the Undercity. However, I feel that there is a strong chance the Council will deny you the funds you’ve requested.” 

You had been aghast. The Council rarely refused funds, and when they did, it was often because the attached proposal had been subpar. In a few cases, they had denied funds and awarded the defender their degree anyway, but it had happened only twice that you could remember. 

It was considered slightly shameful to receive your degree with no accompanying funds. It was a sign that the Council thought there was no situation in which your special knowledge could play an role in improving Piltover.

“But… But this is important research…” you had protested, knowing it wouldn’t matter. “My solution is simple and cost-effective, and no one can argue the impact it would have on the lives of those living in the Undercity. Especially the ones who live in the Sump sector, but it could make a difference for people who live much further away.”

Professor Ukkud shook her head sadly. “I agree, and I believe there is a strong possibility that your proposal would improve lives across the Undercity and even along the border of Upper Piltover where the river is narrow.”

“Then I don’t understand the problem,” you’d said, openly frustrated. 

“Simply put: the Council will not divert funds toward a project that will mostly impact the Undercity.”

You had suspected as much as soon as Professor Ukkud suggested you change the topic of your dissertation, but it was startling to hear her say it so directly. Worse, you knew she was right. 

You wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, but the prejudices of Upper Piltover ran deep. There was no other explanation for the poor conditions half the city lived in - and perhaps more, since censuses tended not to go well in the Undercity. 

And, even worse, you partially understood. The Undercity rebelled against Upper Piltover on a regular basis, and most of those rebellions were violent. Yes, they were rebelling against a lack of representation and the fact that the Council didn’t put any effort toward improving the Undercity, but you could imagine that the proud Piltover people would see helping them as rewarding the very violence they were hoping to stop. 

None of those thoughts had left you. Instead, you slumped and stared down at the stack of pages resting on the table. They represented literal months of your life. When you weren’t helping Ukkud in her classroom, you were researching or writing or editing or experimenting, all in the process of crafting the perfect dissertation. 

“What am I supposed to do, then?” The question had sounded more defeated than challenging. “I can’t rewrite it. The semester is ending soon.”

“I think your best option is to stay an extra semester,” Professor Ukkud opinioned, looking visibly relieved that you weren’t planning to argue with her about it. “You could try to create a different dissertation, but in the limited time… You would either end up with an inferior proposal or be too exhausted to defend it.”

You hadn’t had anything else to say, by then. What was the point? Instead, you thanked the professor for her guidance and left the classroom. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon sulking and mulling over your options. 

The way you saw it, you had two: spend an extra semester at the Academy to create another dissertation and proposal about an issue you weren’t as passionate about, or… 

Or present the dissertation you had already prepared. 

Professor Ukkud was right, you probably wouldn’t be funded. But you could leave here and go somewhere where you could make a difference. You had taken several grant-writing courses during your time at the Academy. It would be far more difficult to do things on your own. But wouldn’t it be worth it? 

You turned onto your back once more, eyeing the ceiling with disgust. Now that you had rehashed everything about the disappointing meeting and rethought about the difficult choice that faced you, you had hoped sleep would come. But you were just as awake as you had been before and you clearly weren’t going to make any important decisions that night. 

Sliiiiiide. Scrape. Scrape! BOOM.

Your initial jolt turned into you sitting bolt upright in bed as a tremendous noise came from the apartment above yours. You looked up at the ceiling, like you could see through it if you stared hard enough. 

When that didn't work, you started to lay back down, but paused. Viktor knew you didn't need to be awake early the next day and had no specific reason to stay quiet, but this was excessive even for him. 

Immediately, your mind started jumping to negative conclusions. What if Viktor had tripped? What if his cane had caught on something, leaving him tumbling to the floor? If had fallen badly enough to hurt himself, how would he call for help? Would anyone notice until the weekend ended? 

The last thing you wanted was to imply that he couldn't take care of himself, but it would be good to check on Viktor, right? He couldn't be offended if you were making sure he wasn't hurt. And if he was, you could always pretend you were upset with him for making so much noise. He didn't know you had already been awake…

You pulled on a sweatshirt over your pajamas and started the trek upstairs. You had been casually sleeping with Viktor for months by that point, but you didn't go up to his apartment as often as you had expected. 

And who could blame you? Not only did Viktor prefer to keep people away from the experiments that filled his apartment, but he also didn't have a bed. You liked to think you were fairly low-maintenance, but you did prefer not to have sex on the floor. Unless it you were in a particular mood. Or a hurry. Or- 

You pulled your thoughts back to your current mission. Viktor could be hurt, and you needed to make sure he wasn’t in pain and waiting to be found. 

The first obstacle was that you didn’t have a key to his apartment. It had never been necessary before and you were struck by the strangeness of that for the first time. Your relationship was strictly casual, but it would have made sense for you proximity to lead to more opportunities for hooking up. Including swapping apartment keys. 

And so you knocked, your taps on his door were firm with an edge of urgency. Even as you waited for a response, you planned: if you knocked again and there was no answer, you would break down the door. How you would accomplish that, you weren’t really sure. As you eyed the solid wood of the door, you wondered if you might be overestimating your own abilities. 

Fortunately, you and your poor shoulder were spared from seeing how you fared against the door when it opened and Viktor’s brown eyes peered out. “Yes?” 

“Are you okay?” you asked, a little nonplussed. 

“Of course,” he told you.

“What are you doing up here?” 

Viktor looked overly innocent, which was a good as a red flag in the current situation. “Nothing in particular. Why?” 

You squinted at him. “Well, I heard a really loud noise a few minutes ago. I thought you might have fallen and knocked yourself out.”

“Do you really think so little of my balance?” 

The dry question was met with a hard stare of your own. You had seen him trip over nothing, and if something impacted how his cane landed, he was virtually guaranteed to end up on the ground. 

Graciously, you decided not to bring up any of that. Instead, you said, “You’re out of breath. A little odd for someone claiming not to be doing anything in particular. And it’s really dark in there…” 

You tried to see around him and into the apartment, but Viktor leaned into your line of sight. “Seriously, did you knock over a lamp or something? It totally dark in there. Wait, not totally… Are those candles? I don’t think you’re allowed to have candles in the dorms.” 

Viktor sighed heavily, letting the door swing out from his grip. You took a moment to process his bare feet and rumpled hair before accepting his silent invitation and stepping past him into the apartment. As always, you almost struggled to believe that his apartment shared a layout with yours, since his was decorated so dramatically differently. 

His furniture was almost entirely missing, with the exception of a very old and well-worn recliner that he slept in. The rest of the space was taken up with various experiments. They had changed since the last time you had been there, but precise layouts of chemical, biological, and mysterious experiments still spread across every available surface. Each one was accompanied by a notebook containing neatly written notes. 

It took a moment for you to check, but you couldn’t see anything around the room that would have caused the amount of noise that had brought you upstairs in the first place. That was good, since it meant that Viktor probably wasn’t hurt and trying to hide it from you.

There was a bare circle on one of Viktor’s countertops, all the experiments carefully swept clear. In the middle of the circle was a cluster of candles, throwing warm light dancing around the room. 

“Well, at least you made sure nothing would catch on fire from your illegal candles,” you conceded.

Viktor came to stand beside you. “Well, nothing that I don’t want to be caught.” 

Your eyebrows raised without your permission as you gave him a sidelong look. “Are you lighting things on fire in your apartment? Need I remind you that I live downstairs and that the building is ancient? And flammable?”

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring you. “I think they set a mood quite nicely. Don’t you agree?” 

“What mood are you trying to set? Angsty serial killer, or are you going for-”

Viktor leaned close, the motion so sudden that you pulled backward. You would have thought it was just a rushed attempt at a kiss, but the way he was looking at you was anything but romantic. His amber eyes were studying your face like you were one of his experiments. You didn’t care for the feeling.

“Is something wrong?” he asked abruptly. 

The bluntness of the question threw you off, made you less able to create a believable story. “Not- Not really? Bad day. Then my upstairs neighbor keeps being noisy.” 

“Today was your meeting with Professor Ukkud, was it not?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question; Viktor had proven to have a near-eidetic memory when it came to the things you told him. “Did she have many critiques for your dissertation?” 

“Something like that,” you admitted. 

“Strange,” Viktor mused. “I thought it was rather brilliant.” 

Your eyes snapped to his. Viktor was smiling slightly, but he seemed sincere. He had read your dissertation. 

When you had asked him to the first time - claiming that you needed another set of eyes on it - he had refused. His explanation was that his ties to the Undercity were too strong, that he wouldn’t be able to look at your proposal with any objectivity. That had seemed like a lie to you, but you hadn’t pushed. A boundary was a boundary, even if he wasn’t giving you the real reason behind it. 

“You… you read my dissertation?” you stammered. 

“Of course,” he told you. “It’s you. How could I no-? Unh!”

You felt a little guilty about the way that his throat had collided with the top of your shoulder as you pulled him into a hug, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping him with your full strength. 

It was only when he stroked a hand down your back, hushing you gently, that you realized you were crying. The entire story spilled from you then. Every detail about Professor Ukkud’s recommendation for rewriting, your crushing disappointment, and the nagging fear that she was right and that to present before the Council would be to set yourself up for failure.

Viktor held you close, making appropriate noises as the stream of words pouring from you finally slowed, then stopped. “Do you want to talk it over? Consider your options?” 

“No,” you refused, smiling tearfully at him. “I feel better just telling you about it. But I could really use a distraction. That is, if you don’t mind? I know I’m all gross…”

Viktor’s soft lips halted your apologies and explanations. You still felt as gross as you had claimed to be, but you sank eagerly into the kiss. It wasn’t often that you let Viktor lead - normally, you were too excited for that - but you gladly followed the soothing motions of his mouth against yours.

“We do not have to-” he started when you pulled back to breathe. 

“No, but I really, really want to,” you admitted openly. 

“In that case…” Viktor stepped away. You immediately felt the loss of his warm body against his, but he was holding a hand out to you. When you took it, he started leading the way to his bedroom. 

It took until you were at the doorway to remember why this was a bad idea. You tugged slightly against his grip. “I know I said I want a distraction, but I’d rather not get eaten by one of your plants, Viktor. That’s not exactly what I’m looking for right now.” 

“Do not worry,” he assured you, pushing the door open. “I removed them last week.”

“...Why?” 

He laughed openly at you. “You’re too young to be so skeptical.” 

And then he stepped through the door, pulling you in behind him before you could continue protesting. 

To your surprise, Viktor had been telling the truth. The plants that had dominated most of the bedroom the last time you’d been inside were gone, as were the colorful lights that had illuminated them. He had even removed the protective tape from the light switch. 

Even without turning on the notoriously harsh overhead lights, you could see Viktor’s bedroom clearly enough for your mouth to fall open. “Is that..?”

“Yes, it is,” Viktor confirmed, smiling more broadly than you had ever seen. 

You started forward, but paused. “I’m almost afraid to touch it. Is this a trick? A mirage? An optical illusion?” 

Viktor only chuckled at you, gently shaking his head. You moved closer despite yourself, extending a hand until your fingers rested against the soft, sheet-covered surface of a real, tangible bed.

“It’s real,” you reported, awe heavy in your tone. 

Viktor rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “I know, I moved it in here today.” 

You rounded on him. “Is that what was making all of the noise? You shouldn’t have put it together yourself, Viktor. I would have been happy to help you.” 

“I didn’t build the frame myself,” he said dryly. “I know my limits. I had some members of the housing administration bring the pieces and assemble everything for me this afternoon.” 

“Then what were you doing that made so much noise?” you asked. “And how did the housing administration not freak out when they saw your collection of experiments? You have to be doing irreparable damage to the interior of this place.”

Viktor looked offended. “I know how to perform an experiment with minimal risk to the environment, myself, and others. And did it not occur to you that I could be trying to surprise you?” 

“Honestly, the idea of you moving the plants was surprising enough,” you admitted. “But where are they? Are they okay?” 

“They are fine.” You relaxed at the answer. Viktor’s plants may have tried to eat you, but that didn’t mean you wanted to think about them rotting somewhere. “The experiments were a success, so I had the plants moved into the lab for further testing and eventual propagation.” 

You nodded, impressed despite yourself. Viktor’s efforts to grow plants using various colors of light had seemed ridiculous and frivolous when you’d first learned about them, but he had eventually told you that there were implications for growing them in the Undercity. 

“Now,” Viktor said lowly, taking a step closer to you, “Are discussions about my botanical experiments distraction enough for you?” 

You thought about it for a moment, but decided that, no, it wasn’t. “I think I need a distraction that’s a little more… hands-on.”

As you said the last, you grabbed Viktor’s spare hand, placing it on the curve of your hip. The warm weight of it made you tense with anticipation even as Viktor rolled his eyes. “You are impossible.” 

“Flatterer,” you accused, leaning in for another kiss. Viktor dropped his feigned grumpiness immediately to seize the offer of your lips. Eagerly, you lost yourself in his embrace.

By the time you remembered that you were a physical being in a physical environment, you had changed positions entirely. You were sitting now, making good use of Viktor’s new bed. He was in front of you, cupping your cheek with a careful reverence that made you feel distinctly melty. 

His graceful fingers traced up and down the stretched-out collar of your sweatshirt. “Tell me you are not wearing anything complicated under this.” 

You shook your head, grinning. “No, you’re still the king of complicated clothing.” 

Viktor gave you surprisingly wicked smile. “I planned ahead.” 

And then you watched, fascinated, as he unbuttoned the few buttons on his vest. With it gone, you found that his shirt was held together only by the buttons that would show above and below the vest itself. With three more buttons undone, Viktor was bare from the waist up, and looking very proud of himself for it. 

The laugh that burst from you was loud and joyful. That moment of silliness from Viktor had done more to lift your mood than hours of ruminating had. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Flatterer,” he returned. “You are also falling behind in this particular race.”

Your eyebrows shot upward. That was a challenge you had no intention of letting stand. You stripped off your sweatshirt in a single motion and - luckily enough - static friction pulled your sleep shirt off at the same time.

You gave Viktor a triumphant look, then both of you were fumbling to remove your own pants. Viktor had buttons to deal with while you did not, but you were stymied by the shoes you had put on to climb the stairs. He beat you, but only by a margin of seconds. You cut off any intended boasting with a deep kiss. And since you were already there, you straddled his thighs at the same time. 

Viktor’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back slightly. “No, I’m going to be on top this time.” 

For the first time in a while, you felt a little uncertain. “Is that a good idea? Your leg-”

“-Will be fine,” he told you firmly. “It has improved with all the exercise it has gotten lately. Nothing long-term, but I can do this. Let me do this?”

The soft entreaty, more than anything else he could have said, convinced you. You gave a shallow nod and Viktor set to work. He guided you down to the mattress - and you were privately disappointed that the sheets didn’t have time to smell like him yet - and settled on top of you. 

The weight of him was solid between your thighs, even with him bracing a hand against the bed’s surface. You were always mildly surprised at Viktor’s size - his height and narrow build often made him appear far more slender than he truly was. 

You did have admit that you liked the position for how close everything was. When you were on top, you often felt further away from him than you wanted to be. But with Viktor taking the lead, his free hand roamed your body as both of your hands did the same to him. He alternated between kissing you and nosing along your skin while you did your best to suck tiny bruises into every stretch of his neck and jaw that you could reach. 

After a span that seemed both endless and impossibly short, Viktor pulled away with a groan. “I am uncertain how much longer I can wait to be inside of you.” 

Everything between your legs gave an eager pulse, your muscles helpfully lifting the cradle of your hips to press yourself more firmly against him. The length of him slipped easily between your folds, pressing against you. 

You gave a stuttered breath at the contact - he wasn’t entering you, but the angle of him left his head brushing firmly against your clit and the sensations were dazzling. Viktor must have been in a similar frame of mind, because he gave another groan. This one was hoarse, verging on desperate, and you throbbed. 

“Please,” you asked, lifting your hips once more. 

It took a fumbling moment for Viktor to reposition the head of himself against your entrance, but he made up for lost time by sliding home the instant he was in place.

The noise you made was inarticulate and loud, and you were grateful that the only apartment connected to Viktor’s was your own empty one. Viktor was silent, but when you remembered to open your eyes, you found that his had fluttered shut. There was a wrinkle of concentration between his dark brows, but something about their upward tilt gave him a hint of beatific supplication. He looked like he was praying. 

He drew in a breath - a long, shaking inhale - and opened those gorgeous eyes. 

“You are never anything less than incredible.” His fervent, matter-of-fact delivery was sincere enough that you believed him. It wasn’t enough to remove the soreness of the day from your heart, but it certainly didn’t hurt. 

But you were neighbors with benefits, not a couple. This level of emotion seemed taboo, somehow forbidden for two people in a casual relationship. You pushed your response aside, teasing, “Are you talking about me or my pussy?”

“You.”

The only way to hide your response to the affirmation would be to close your eyes, and that was a sacrifice you weren’t willing to make. So instead, you leaned up to give him a kiss, hoping to convey some sense of what he meant to you. You couldn’t be sure what came through, but at least he began moving inside of you. 

Viktor felt exquisite inside of you and it was hard to concentration on anything other than the pressure he put on your g-spot every time he moved into or out of you. But in the quiet spaces in his rhythm, you gathered yourself enough to watch him. Not only was watching Viktor one of your great joys in life, you were also searching for any signs that this position was hurting or straining him.

True to his claims, it didn’t seem to be. Viktor’s pace was eager, nothing but intense focus on his face. The noises he made didn’t sound pained, either, and you let yourself relax into enjoying the entire experience. 

Your finger traced along the lean muscle of Viktor’s chest, danced across his ticklish ribs, and met briefly behind his back. The feeling of his muscles tightening and releasing as he drove into you and pulled back out was intoxicating. It also made you aware of the way your hips were surging up to meet his thrusts, turning every stroke into a earth-shattering collision. 

When your timing matched up with Viktor’s, it felt like he was pushing his way up into your stomach. The depth of it was a little strange, but it didn’t hurt. Far from it, actually. You jerked so hard that Viktor paused. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

“No,” you told him, adding, “If you stop, I’m going to hurt you.”

He laughed, and the desperate need pulled away long enough for you to see the humor in it. “It feels wonderful, Viktor. Please keep going.” 

Viktor took you at your word and started thrusting into you even harder than before, but much faster. The pleasure came roaring back with a vengeance. 

In moments, you were clutching at Viktor’s shoulders both to keep yourself from being pushed up the bed and in an effort to keep yourself grounded. This was overwhelming, but in a way that left you ready for more even while you were still experiencing it. This was something addictive, you realized, but you couldn’t even begin to worry about that. 

Especially when your body started to tighten around Viktor’s.

“Close.” 

Your panted warning made Viktor nod. He dropped his pelvis a fraction of an inch, making his occasional brushes against your clit far more often and intense. Seemingly instantly, that contact pushed you unceremoniously over the edge. 

Viktor managed to keep his pace even with your body locking down around him. You shook and panted and gasped - and made some sounds that were far more dramatic - as he worked his way closer to his own orgasm. 

When you drifted back down to earth, you were content to watch Viktor work above you. He was close, you could see it in the way his arms trembled, the drop of sweat from his temple tracing down over jutting cheekbones.

“Close,” he hissed, pushing into you so hard that it sent a shockwave through your body. 

You smiled at that. You had asked him once why he warned you when you had already come. He had simply shrugged and told you, “It seems the polite thing to do.” It was so perfectly Viktor that you had laughed then. It still made you smile. 

Viktor plunged deep inside of you, giving a low and hastily-stifled groan as he came. He was particularly beautiful in the throes of pleasure, you noted. His pale skin was slightly flushed with exertion, lips swollen and red from kissing you. When his head tipped back, you could admire the marks you had scattered across his neck. His eyes were closed, but you could picture the stunning shade of amber they would be when they glowed with pleasure.

When he was finished, Viktor’s arms were shaking badly enough that you were worried, but he managed to lower himself beside you rather than collapsing. You wouldn’t have minded that so much, but Viktor’s limbs were so long and angular that collisions tended to leave you with large, unfun bruises the next day. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked. 

You pulled your attention back to the moment. “Yes, of course. Why?” 

“You are usually talking by now,” he told you. His eyes were still closed, but a tiny smile played around the fullness of his lips. 

With a hum, you said, “Good point. Maybe we should talk about all of this.”

Viktor’s eyes opened at that. He looked wary. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” You sat up slightly, wincing at the way his cum started trickling out of you. But you pressed your legs together, ignoring the sensation in favor of counting on your fingers. “The candles, the bed, the mysterious noise with no apparent cause…”

“That is what would make a noise mysterious,” Viktor agreed, an edge of sarcasm in his accented voice. 

“Shush. Anyway, I’m working on a theory…” You paused to recheck your work, but arrived at exactly the same conclusion you had come to the first time. “Were you trying to lure me up here for some reason?” 

“‘Lure’ is an ugly word.” 

“That’s not a real answer,” you informed him. “Were you planning something? Something I derailed by bursting into tears before you could get to it?” 

“It wasn’t important,” he told you. “Not by comparison.” 

His closer hand was resting against the mattress, between his face and yours. You laced your fingers with his, and he returned your smile. How could you be sad when there was magic like this in the world?

“Will you tell me what it was?” you requested softly. “Please?”

Viktor’s smile turned a little sickly and he swallowed, but nodded. “I wanted to- Well, I still want to… Ask- If you might want something more serious.”

“With you?” you checked. 

Now looking distinctly queasy, Viktor nodded again. “With me.” 

You beamed, feeling inexplicably close to tears once more. “I would like that a lot, Viktor.”

“You-?” Viktor’s eyes were wide, even as he feigned a casual attitude. “You would. Very well. Then I believe we should enter into a romantic relationship together.” 

“I believe the same,” you said, giving him your best grave expression. It wasn’t particularly solemn, not with the way you had been grinning a moment before, but it was enough to make Viktor roll his eyes as he tried not to smile. “When should we begin?”

“In my opinion,” Viktor said carefully, “we already have.” 

“Fair point,” you conceded, squeezing his hand as you leaned in for another kiss.

---

Author's Note - As I've said on a few different fics I've posted this year, this is my last Fanfic February! The tolls of writing over 100,000 words to post all in one month is pretty high, especially when I have so many other ongoing projects.

I have some additional ideas for this story and I might continue it when I've caught up on the other works I've been ignoring. For now, I think this is a good pause point.

Thank you for reading!

[nickeverdeen]

nsfw

hi!! hope you’re doing well, i was wondering if you could write a viktor hargreeves x fem!reader imagine where he’s eating reader out for the first time (either reader’s first or viktors!) i can’t stop thinking abt it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Guided by Love | Virgin Viktor Hargreeves x fem!reader

Pairing: Viktor Hargreeves x fem!reader

Warnings: Soft!dom Viktor, bottom!reader, reader talking Viktor through it, eating out, Viktor is virgin, accidental overstimulation

——————

The night had settled in, wrapping the world outside in a comforting blanket of quiet. Inside, the dim light of a bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the room. You and Viktor were tangled up together under the covers, lying close as you recounted the events of your day.

“…and then, to top it all off, the cashier tried to charge me twice for the same thing. I mean, I get it, people make mistakes, but after the day I had, I was just… done,” you said with a sigh, feeling the tension from the day begin to melt away as Viktor listened intently.

Viktor chuckled softly, his hand gently rubbing your back. “You really did have a day, didn’t you?”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Yeah, but it’s better now. Just being here with you makes everything else seem… small.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his heart swelling with affection for you. “I’m glad I can help,” he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, savoring the gentle contact. His kisses were always so sweet, so full of love. But tonight, there was something different in the way his lips lingered on your skin, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Viktor’s kisses began to trail lower, moving from your forehead to your temple, down to your cheek, and then to the curve of your jaw. His hand slipped from your back to your waist, pulling you closer as he continued to explore your neck with soft, feather-light kisses.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your body instinctively reacting to the shift in his touch. Viktor’s lips were warm and insistent as they found that sensitive spot on your neck, making you pause mid-sentence, your thoughts scattering in all directions.

“Viktor…” you whispered, your voice trailing off as his kisses grew more intimate, more purposeful. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, gauging your reaction.

There was no need for words; the air between you crackled with unspoken understanding. You could see the nervous anticipation in Viktor’s eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with each measured breath. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, and pulled him back down to you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that quickly deepened, the world outside fading away completely.

Viktor’s hands roamed over your body with a mixture of reverence and curiosity, his touch firm but still a bit tentative. You could feel the hesitance in his movements, the way he was learning and exploring every inch of you, and it only made you want him more.

His kisses moved from your mouth, trailing down your neck again, this time slower, more deliberate. Each kiss seemed to linger just a bit longer, his lips pressing into your skin with a growing hunger. When he reached the hollow of your throat, he paused, his breath warm against your skin as he hesitated for a moment.

You shifted beneath him, arching your back slightly to press closer to his touch. “Don’t stop,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

That seemed to be all the encouragement Viktor needed. He continued his journey downward, his lips brushing over your collarbone, his hands sliding under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your sides. The feeling of his fingers against your bare skin sent a jolt of electricity through you, your heart pounding in your chest as the anticipation built.

Viktor sat up slightly, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. He looked at you, his expression a mix of desire and uncertainty. “Can I…?”

You nodded, lifting your arms to help him remove your shirt. Once it was off, he took a moment to simply look at you, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of your bare skin. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His words sent a warmth spreading through you, and you reached out to pull him back down to you, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Viktor’s hands roamed over your body with more confidence now, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your hips, before sliding up to cup your breasts.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Viktor seemed to be encouraged by your reaction, his touch growing bolder as he gently kneaded your breasts, his mouth trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still.

When his lips finally closed around one of your nipples, your breath hitched, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Viktor’s tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, his lips sucking gently, drawing out soft gasps and moans from you. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, the growing ache making you press your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the tension.

Viktor seemed to notice your need, his hand trailing down your body, over your stomach, until it reached the waistband of your pants. He paused, looking up at you for permission.

“Go ahead,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

With your consent, Viktor slowly slid your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear. He could see the wetness already starting to soak through the fabric, and it sent a thrill of excitement through him. He wanted to please you, to make you feel as good as you made him feel, but there was still a part of him that was nervous, unsure if he would be able to do it right.

He moved down, settling himself between your thighs, his hands gently parting them to reveal the wetness that had soaked through your panties. He hesitated for just a moment before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You let out a soft moan, your body arching slightly as you felt the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive spot. Viktor’s kisses trailed closer and closer to your core, his hands gently pulling your panties down until you were fully exposed to him.

He looked up at you, his expression filled with a mix of desire and nervousness. “I… I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, his voice soft and unsure.

You reached down, gently cupping his cheek in your hand. “It’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice filled with affection. “I’ll guide you through it. Just go slow, and pay attention to how I react. You’ll do great.”

Viktor nodded, taking a deep breath before he leaned down, his lips brushing against your folds. The first touch of his tongue against your clit sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath catching in your throat. Viktor’s movements were slow and tentative at first, his tongue gently exploring your folds, his lips pressing soft kisses to your sensitive skin.

“Just like that,” you encouraged him, your voice trembling slightly as he continued to explore. “You’re doing so good…”

Viktor seemed to gain confidence from your praise, his movements becoming more sure as he focused on the sounds you were making, the way your body responded to his touch. He started to experiment, his tongue flicking over your clit, his lips sucking gently, his fingers brushing against your entrance.

When he slipped one finger inside you, you gasped, your hips bucking slightly at the sensation. Viktor paused, looking up at you with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, your breath coming in short gasps. “No, it feels good… you can add another finger.”

Viktor did as you asked, slipping a second finger inside you, his movements slow and careful as he began to pump them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he continued to suck and lick at your clit.

The pleasure was building inside you, the tension winding tighter and tighter with each passing moment. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with anticipation.

“I’m so close, Viktor,” you breathed, your voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop…”

Viktor didn’t stop. He continued with steady, determined movements, his tongue and fingers working together to bring you closer and closer to your release. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and tension building within you until you were teetering on the edge.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue, you were pushed over the edge, your body tensing as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled moan escaping your lips as you felt the release wash through you.

But Viktor, not fully understanding what was happening, didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, and before you could fully recover, you felt another surge of pleasure building up again, even more intense this time. Your body trembled uncontrollably as he accidentally sent you into a state of overstimulation, the sensation so overwhelming that you almost couldn’t take it.

“Viktor… wait, I—” you gasped, trying to speak but finding it difficult as another orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing with the force of it. You barely managed to reach down and still his head, your body twitching as the sensations finally began to subside.

He pulled back immediately, concern etched on his face. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—are you okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with panic.

You were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to regain your composure. “I’m okay,” you assured him, managing a weak smile. “Just… give me a minute.”

Viktor’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently wipe away the sweat from your forehead. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice filled with remorse.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you replied, cupping his face with your hand. “It just… felt really intense. But it was good, Viktor. You did amazing.”

A blush crept up Viktor’s cheeks at your praise, and he looked away shyly. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small smile.

As you both settled back into the sheets, Viktor hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you… going to teach me more?”

You chuckled softly, your body still tingling from the aftershocks. “If you want, we can continue,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “But for now, let’s just rest.”

He nodded, a look of contentment on his face as he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, his voice laced with genuine gratitude.

You smiled, closing your eyes as you nestled into his embrace. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” you murmured, already feeling yourself drifting off. “We’re learning together, Viktor.”

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, the warmth of his body lulling you into a peaceful sleep. The night had been a series of firsts, but more importantly, it had been another step in building the deep, loving bond between you and Viktor.

And as you both drifted off to sleep, you knew that there would be many more nights like this to come—full of love, trust, and new experiences shared together.

[zevrra]

—what i desire

synopsis: You need an upgrade but being short on cash, you go to your fav ripperdoc in hopes he’ll give you what you need; instead you get something you’ve always wanted.

tags: 18(+) only, mdni, suggestive content, no plot/only p&rn, mentions of f-m oral sex, teasing, slight dirty talk, swearing, mention of a facial, slight mentions of overstim, bottom(ish)!vik, the reader is v

“C’mon Vik,” You say, a pleading tone to your voice. “I’m in the big leagues now. Gotta have the good stuff.”

The older man stares at you. Listening to your pleas with deafening ears. You had finally gotten the chance for a big break in your mercenary work. This job would be the one to put your name up there with some of NC’s legends. Go big or go home was your motto after all. And you would need the proper cyberware to make that happen. Money was just a little too tight right now to be buying said cyberware.

“Plus you’re the best ripperdoc in all of Night City!” You sing in a light hearted tune. Hoping to sway the older man into giving you some new upgrades.

Viktor scoffs at the bribery of words, arms crossed over his broad chest as he looks slightly down at you. “Tell me something I don’t know, kid.” He replies. A smirk is plastered across his face. You can’t see his eyes fully behind the sunglasses he wears, probably wears them even in his sleep, but the smile is enough to tell you; you just might be getting your way.

Or so you think.

“I can’t keep passing out favors hun. You still owe me eddies from the last set I gave you.” Vik sighs, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. He too still had to make a living and you knew that.

The distant sound of whatever fight Vik’s put on plays somewhere in the background. For the few years you’ve known Vik now, and how you’ve grown to know his love for the ring, he’s tried to sign you up every day since. He obviously missed fighting. So much so he hoped you would one day decide to try your hand at it. But the sound of the fight is the only thing that draws between you two for the moment; as you watch Vik struggle internally.

On one hand, he needed to make money. Money wasn’t everything to him but to Night City it certainly was. You’d bleed gold before blood in this forsaken city. But on the other hand he was weak to you and you knew that too. Knew his gaze softened when you approached him. Or the several times he’d ring your holo just to see how you were doing. Maybe it was just an old man thing to do but you had your doubts. You could always feel the longing in his words when speaking to you. Could feel his yearning from across the room sometimes.

No matter what, at the end of the day, Vik liked you; and would try his best to give you what you wanted. And although you have come to like, and enjoy his company just as much, telling him was far harder than just teasing the older man.

“Please Viky. This’ll be the last time I ask, I promise.” You plead as your hands squish together, begging Vik to give you the newest implants he had. You always paid your dues when you could and Vik knew that.

Yet Viktor sighs, unsure if he should cave for you like he had done so many times before. And that was the dilemma he was struggling with now. He liked you. He really did. But some things were just too complicated. “V…” He begins but you cut him off before he can vocally tell you no and set everything to stone.

“Vik you know I’m good for my word,” You mumble, hands reaching out to grab the thickness of one of Vik’s biceps. Fingers running along the years of toned muscle he oh so casually flexes. “But if you’re having doubts…let me pay in another way.”

The suggestion takes Vik by total surprise. At first he’s confused at what you’re offering. His eyes scan your face behind his glasses as he tries to figure out what you mean. Your hand is very distracting on his arm. Tracing over every little smooth line etched into his skin. You had always wanted Vik. From the moment you two had first met. He was far too caring for a street punk like you. Without him, your leap up the food chain would never have happened. It was all thanks to him. You push your fingers under the hem of his shirt sleeve, making sure your eyes meet his. You could come up with the money within a few weeks but now, all of this, was just an excuse to act on your desires.

That's when Vik pieces all of the puzzle together. The sudden realization makes his face blush bright red. He lifts his free hand to his lips, clearing his throat in an attempt to say something but he’s unable to speak at all.

You push your luck just that much more by running a hand up to his neck. Moving slowly against his body. Feeling the flush of his skin against the pads of your fingertips. Can feel the heat of his body temperature rise with just a single touch of your hand. And for just a brief moment before you’re running a hand down his well toned chest. Even at his age he was in far better shape than most men in Night City; and that meant plenty of women most likely wanted him.

But you were the only one he wanted.

Your hand continues to travel the front of Vik’s body. Running across the buttons of his blue shirt, one by one. Teasing the older man as he stood and let you do it. Your eyes watch his every move; looking for any sign that he may get upset about you teasing him too much. Watch as his head tilts to the side, palm still pressed to his lips, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses he seemingly never takes off, and the darkening blush across his cheeks. You wonder if the red sprawling across his cheeks would reach his ears or better yet, his chest. You’d give anything to find out— and you sure as hell planned to find out.

Vik continues to shyly look away from you. So many wild thoughts must be running through his head. How he wanted all of this; how he should tell you to stop. How many times had he stayed up till the dead of night with you on his mind. In more than one way. At this point you’re just waiting for him to yell at you. To tell you off for fooling around, give you the implants, and write this off as a funny joke between friends. Except it wasn’t a joke and you didn’t want to stop. And by his silence, he didn’t want you to stop either.

“Mmm nothing to say?” You tease the older man with a smirk. Gripping the bottom of his tucked in shirt and giving it a tug to pull it loose from his jeans. He slightly jerks at the motion, tensing under your advancements as his shirt falls around his hips. With his shirt out of the way, you begin to drop down onto your knees. Your fingers move to wrap around the buckle of his belt, keeping your gaze fixed on his flushed face as you unbuckle the belt, and then slip the leather fabric out of the loops of his waistband. “Cute.”

“V.” Viktor practically growls, suddenly finding his voice. The realization of how quickly he was losing his composure was evident now. He knew he was mere seconds away from folding completely for you; just as he knew he should stop this. But knowing and doing are two different things because he certainly does nothing as your fingers clasp around the button on his pants.

“Relax, relax.” You laugh with a scrunch of your nose. Then you’re finally unbuttoning the front of his pants. You pop the metal button out of its secured place before you’re ever so slowly pulling down the zipper.

You unfold your prize like an eager winner. His black jeans come undone easily; and as you gently tug his jeans down, you smile at the reveal of the white of his boxers and the semi-hardening of his cock beneath. You knew you had wanted Vik before but now it was so clear to you as you sit on your knees before him.

You bite your bottom lip as your gaze slips over his body. Eyes flicking all the way up his chest until you’re surely meeting his eyes behind those pesky glasses. And your gaze stays there as your hands rub over the front of his boxers. Putting just a little pressure on the stiffness of his cock in an attempt to make him fully erect. “Look at me.” You softly demand with a small laugh, forcing him to watch your every move as you begin to stroke him through the fabric. Hand moving from the base, outlining every inch of his rather large shaft, to the wet tip, then back down to the base once again. And like a charm, your movement and eye contact does the trick fairly quickly. As now the great Viktor Vektor is solid as a rock beneath your touch.

His hand still covers his mouth but it does nothing to stifle the deep groan he makes as his underwear slides down. Finally letting his cock bounce free into the open air. You can’t help but breathe hot against his wet skin. Your eyes finally break from his to look at the massive member before you. The tip is an angry red and begging to be touched. The muscles of his abdomen flex and quiver at the building up of his want and desire. You were so close you could almost taste it. And you would. Even his body knew that.

Nothing stops you as your hand finally wraps around his twitching cock. The instant relief of being touched has Vik groaning behind his hand. His hips stutter forward, pushing himself further into your grasp to get any kind of friction. To push himself closer to the edge of satisfaction.

“Fuck, V.” Vik barely whispers. He stumbles just slightly back to put all of his weight fully on the desk behind him. His free hand reaches down to grab at his shirt. Tugging it up to get a better look at what you’re doing. Now you have his full unyielding attention.

Good.

You can’t help but lick your lips before diving into your meal. Mouth pressing right up against the head of his cock as you smear whatever precum you quickly could across your lips. The little bit of liquid helps you to push the tip of his cock into your mouth far easier than if you had tried to go without. Even from just his head you knew your jaw was in for a workout. He wasn’t long or relatively packing in the length department but his girth? Shit. Fitting all of him inside was going to be a little harder than you anticipated. Seeing as just the tip was already laying your tongue out flat inside of your mouth.

Him being thicker than you had realized would not stop you though. You wanted this man and you wanted him to feel good. Wanted Vik to feel so good that he would never allow anyone else the chance.

You press on with your eager notions. Using your hand wrapped around his base to keep him feeling good while you slowly got accustomed to his girth. Taking inch by inch until saliva quickly builds up in your mouth, threatening to spill over your lips with every bob of your head. Not a bad thing in this situation, as every drop would be used to work on sucking him off while sinking further down his shaft.

One hand grips at his thighs as you swallow more of him. The other hand is wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him still now. Spit finally dribbles down your chin as you’ve barely managed to hit the half way mark. Every breath you take is a chore now; forcing you to focus on not choking on him as he fills up every inch of your mouth.

You lean back just barely to move back to the tip. Sucking in any leftover spit and precum, tongue rolling over the underside of his head, before you’re pushing yourself further down. Using your newfound leverage to finally push the rest of his shaft between your lips. The hand on the base of his cock quickly moves away as your lips are steadily replacing where your hand once held him.

And with a few more seconds of dragging your mouth across the hardened flesh with every bob of your head, your nose firmly presses against his abdomen as you’ve finally taken all of Vik inside of your mouth.

Vik is a mess beneath you. He’s moan after moan with every single one of your movements. If not for the hand pressed tightly on his mouth you’re sure he’d be a loud, whiny, whimpering mess. Mhm, just how you want him to be. You can feel his thigh tensing under your fingers as he tries his hardest to still himself from thrusting his hips forward. Can feel him twitch in the back of your throat. And by the looks of his heaving chest, he was trying really hard not to unravel. But with your mouth wrapped around him, swallowing him up, sucking him off; it was making it harder and harder for him to remain composed.

With your nose pressed against his body, you manage to breathe in his scent far more easier than you could just hanging beside him. Now you could smell the cheap cologne; a mix of sandalwood and fire. Something strong yet tender just like he is. It made you groan.

Vik mimics your groan as you begin to move again after the brief break. Your mouth tightens around his base, quickly moving along the shaft, all the way back up to the tip, while your hand returns to follow suit. And just like that, you must be doing a good job at it too, as Vik loses his once restrained composure. His can’t help it when his hips begin to move with your flow. Thrusting forward when your mouth hits his tip, needing just that little bit more of friction to keep him feeling good. Chasing your lips in his high as if he’s almost afraid you’ll stop.

With every eager thrust of his hips, you knew he wouldn’t last long. His thrusts were gaining speed, pushing quicker into your lips; his chest heaving with every moan of your name, and you can feel his cock twitching with every brush against the back of your throat.

Good thing he was getting close too. At this point your jaw could barely take much more.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m,” Vik moans as his hand finally slips from his lips. It moves to grip the desk behind him for any sort of stability. From your crouched position you can clearly see the whites of his knuckles as he grips onto his desk. “Close!” Vik barks, ending in a whine as his hips continue to move, never once stopping as he seeks out the finish line of this little pleasant moment.

And it’s truly the sight of Viktor being so disheveled that keeps you going. His usual composure of this stoic, tough boxer, is crumbling apart every second you last that much longer. Now he’s just a man of pleasure; seeking the end of his high as he begs you for it.

His glasses slip off the bridge of his nose that finally gives you the chance to get a really ood look at his face. His eyes are lighter than you remembered and with the flush of his face, they stand out even more in the dim light of his office. And when he looks at you with those pretty, unfocused, blurry eyes full of lust— your heart pounds against your ribcage.

You crave for him like never before. Every night you wanted him to look at you like that. Down the bridge of his nose, hunched before his thighs, letting him fuck into your mouth as he gazes at you taking him so well. The thought makes you moan around the thick of his cock and that’s all he needs before his final straw snaps.

His hips stutter as he breaks down, cursing every curse word that’s ever been uttered before. The whine of your name falls short on his lips as he catches up to his high. Vik cums into the back of your throat. But you figured he was more of a visual man. You pull your mouth off of his twitching cock with a pop, with your hand you run up and down his shaft, pushing out the last few ropes of his cum onto your lips, hitting some of your cheek as well. Your hand keeps moving until Vik is visibly trembling from the quick on set of overstimulation.

Vik’s eyes stare at you but they don’t really see you at the moment. His mind is probably running a mile a minute while he also thinks of nothing at all. His chest falls and rises with every pant. The light of his eyes stares at the mess he’s made across your face.

Your thumb swipes across the mess that sits along your bottom lip. Flicking your tongue out to lick the sticky substance off of your thumb as a smile breaks out on your lips ; staring right back up at Vik as he’s slowly coming down from his high.

“Oh, Vik,” You hum all sweet and gentle to the dazed man. Like the devilish creature that you are, your fingers are once again wrapping around his re-hardening cock. “Wanna keep going?”

[ursawastricked]

Distracting: Part 4

You have infected most of Viktors thought by now. And unfortunately he can not find solace in his own home, not when his growing “collection” he realizes, contains a remnant of you that he had forgotten about..and the distraction follows him further then just his brain.

Wordcount: 3,081 (I had too much fun)

THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Pining, cute memories, Smut, Solo Viktor, Male masterbation, Viktor being soft and oh so distracted

It wasn't uncommon for Viktor to be locked in his room after returning home, however he was much more annoyed at the current moment then he would usually be.

Now, on any other occasion, one where he found himself stuck between his desk and his bed, he would just continue to his desk. But no, instead he had been standing in the center of his empty room, starting an increasingly aggravating item in his possession.

He held the light weight glass in his grasp, leaned over it while sitting cross legged on his floor..somewhat, his bad leg was stretched out in front of him, it had been aching since he jumped to grab you earlier, another event he was planning on ignoring. He tilted his head as he turned over the glass in his hand, he had not yet noticed the light gold trim at the edge of it, nor the chiseled texture of the handle..it was clearly expensive which only worsened the guilt of having it. He wondered momentarily if he would be in trouble if they came looking for it, however people probably stole from those parties all the time. He knew they did, because at your first ever banquet, he had caught you slipping one of the china plates in your bag.

Viktor chuckled lightly, you were so quick to try and drag him into your scheme after he had caught you. At that point he had only known you about a month, and you had just started being actively social in the lab, mostly with Jayce, however you had said your fair share of ‘good mornings’, ‘goodnights’. It was charming, in a childish kind of way, and despite not assisting you, he hadn’t said anything and you still had the plate in your cabinet. He had seen it when you had invited him and Jayce over for some dinner. He ate off it, but didn’t comment on it, you winked at him and he smiled..

He leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling and analyzing that night as a whole, he recalled dinner, eating, drinking a bit..yes he definitely remembered drinking, because he had woken up in his own bed the next day with the same pain he imagined was felt after falling from a building, all settled in his skull. Lucky for him, he had beat Jayce to the chance of blacking out, so Jayce had gotten the honor of carrying him home. He had spent most of that day dragging himself between his bed and the bathroom, taking many showers, lots of vomit, and lots of sleeping. He had somehow ended up still with one of your scarves in his bed after he had passed out. He had learned from Jayce after asking about it, that he in his inebriated state, had put it on and tied it around his head to do what he thought was a very funny impression of you, but was actually a lot of gibberish and him not being able to stop laughing.

Did he..ever give that back to you? He wasn't sure..but as he stared at the lipstain on the champagne glass again, despite how faded it was after he had secretly drank from it during the nights, he had wondered if you missed it. After all, the cold season would be coming soon, and he couldn't stand the idea of you shivering because he had drunkenly stolen another thing from you..maybe you had a point, maybe he was a little bit of a kleptomaniac.

He groaned as he stood from the floor, grabbing his cane and pulling himself to stand. With a bit of effort he was able to leave his room and head to the hall closet, where he and Jayce kept their winter coats and such when it wasn't cold. With his free hand, he tugged the sliding door to the side and began to filter through the thick collection of fabric that was hanging in the far too small closet. It was truly ridiculous how many things Jayce chose to keep in this thing..but soon enough he had found it. A long, thickly knitted crimson scarf, squishy too the touch and clearly well loved as it was a little beaten up at the ends, or at least he hoped, if moths had eaten away at it while it was in his care, he would be quick to pay for a new one and spend the rest of the cold season trying to make up for ruining your property. He pulled it from its hanging state, feeling the weight of it settle against his palm as he inspected it for any details that would cause him worry, he couldn't remember if he had vomited on it, but either way, it would be polite to wash it before returning it. He sighed, throwing it over his shoulder so he could close the closet..when it hit him.

It wasn't gentle, it was an intense waft of smell that hit his senses. It was honey, lavender..the slight alteration of an oaky, maybe smokey smell that he then recognized as your perfume. He paused, closing the door to shamefully lift the fabric to his nose, not sure if he had any control over the carnal motion of holding it to his skin and inhaling deeply. He had missed the hint of caramel, the kind you always put in your coffee, and probably had spilt on this very scarf. His eyes were closed, senses blurring as the sensation of buzzing settled in his chest and let loose a sigh from him, one he would have hidden if he had noticed Jayce down the hall, apron tied on and holding a spatula covered in fudge from the brownies he had insisted on making that night.

“Vik, what's that you got there? Is it cold in here?” He asked, over the giggling noise of Mel who had arrived without warning to Viktor. She too came into the corner of Viktor Gaze as he yanked away your scarf from his nose and closed the closet the rest of the way.

“No..just remembered something..and wanted to check,” he replied, lazily glancing between Jayce and Mel as he crept toward his room, tossing the deliciously scented scarf too his bed before closing his bedroom door and standing facing it for a moment..He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but the buzzing in his belly had subsided only partly, and he could feel his body craving another huff of what he had just discovered. However he instead moved toward the kitchen, it was better to not feed into something that felt addicting.

He limped into the shared kitchen, seeing Jayce still stirring a bowl of fudgy brown putty, and his..guest as Viktor would put it..lounging on the stool, looking over Jayces work. She turned to smile at Viktor, and he gave his best attempt, despite how aggravating it was to be surprised with company when you didn't want to be.

“Viktor dearest, I couldn't help but notice that scarf you were holding down there,” she hummed, twirling glass of wine in her hand, a much less pretty glass then his he would note, “It looks a bit like the one your other lab assistant work..what was their name?” He was quick to spit your name back at her, almost instantly, like he was waiting for someone to ask. Mel glanced at him, a little spooked, “Yes..yes them. I saw them wearing the Yule ball, is that it?” she asked, sipping his wine with the elegance of a queen.

Viktor had almost forgotten about the Yule ball. Though now that he thought about it, you had worn it then, that was until you took it off and had revealed a golden collar around your neck..purely decorative, however he now wondered if you often wore things like that–

‘Stop that,’ he silently chastised himself, clearing his thirst to give a real answer, “Yes..they had lent it to me a while back..I wanted to pack it in my bag so I can return it” he murrmered, leaning over the sink and filling his usual cup with water.

Jayce giggled lightly, clearly amused by his next words before even saying them, “You gonna write a note for when you return it?” he asked, Viktor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Maybe some hearts, an invitation to steal yours next?” he teased, sending heat fast to Viktors face. His hand gripped the cup, avoiding anyones gaze as he stepped to the side,

“Of course not! Why would I ever offer that?” he huffed,

“One of your shirts would fit them pretty nice, don’t you think?” Jayce purred, only barely avoiding the water that spilled from Viktors mouth when he had missed his sip at the thought of you wearing his shirt, all sleepy and comfy, hiding yourself in his clothes,

“You..are an evil man Jayce Talis, a vile and disgusting creature–” Viktor choked, wiping his chin from the spittle that had fallen down it, turning his face away from Mel as she stared at the pair.

Viktor wasn't lucky enough it seems, as he had caught a smirk of understanding spread on mels painted lips. “Has our Viktor found himself a little playmate?” she hummed,

Jayce nodded, mouthing an exaggerated ‘Oh yeah’ which resulted in the hard thump of Viktors cane against his shin. Jayce yelped, hopping on one leg and holding his injured one and settling his forehead against the counter,

“I do not have a ‘playmate” Viktor grunted, tucking his cane back under his arm,

“Are you going to wash it at least? The scarf?” Jayce panted, settling his leg back down and leaning into Mel as she rubbed his shoulder for comfort, like he was a wounded puppy.

“Of course,” Viktor insisted, turning and making his way back down the hallway too retrieve it,

Jayce leaned down the hall as he went, “Hey uh, Mel is gonna sleep over, ok?”

“I assumed,” He yelled back, slipping into his room and closing the door.

As much as he planned to get right to your scarf, he had gotten distracted with what he thought would be a quick adjustment to his notes. He looked up to notice he had somehow ended up filling what was left of his notebook..he sighed, rubbing his temple and lifting himself toward his bed. He needed to sleep, so he tripped what was tight around his form, and rolled into his mattress. He laid on his side, and let out a deep sigh as he settled into the soft sheets..he was much more annoyed to hear the muffled noise of Mel and Jayce on the other side of the wall. He inhaled deeply, covering his head with his hands and trying to block out any further signs of their intense “conversation”.

His breath hitched as the feeling of his back hitting the bedroom door, your form standing close, blocking him from moving away. His gaze was lingering on your face, a bit disheveled from the rush into the apartment. He sighed, cupping your face as you tuck your body closer to him, the velvet of your vest brushing against his chest.

“Janna..your so lovely,” he huffed,

“You're so beautiful Viktor..” You whisper in reply, only to be cut off by the weight of Viktors lips colliding with yours. You both pant into each other, Viktor wrapping his arms tightly around your hip and using the other to cup your jaw, and keep your lips locked in a passionate embrace. Your combined weight sends you both tumbling to the bed. You land almost perfectly, Viktor slotted between your legs and pressing his weight into your pelvis. You let out a pathetic whimper as Viktor grabbed hold of your thigh and tucked it over his hip. He pulled his lips away briefly to mutter your name, 

“Your perfection..ever since that party..with that lovely gown..I can't stop thinking about you, about everything you do..” He panted between kisses to your impossibly soft lips, and when he couldn't handle muffling your sounds any longer, he pressed his lips into your throat, greedily licking at your sweat dappled skin as if he would die of thirst. You moan out his name as he rolls himself into you, groaning at the sensation of your plush behind against his bulge.

Your nosies only continued to spill from your throat, each shriller than the next, until he swore you began to sound like the creaking of his bed frame..

The creak of said bedframe is what met him when he fluttered his eyes open and found that rather than your, in his words, ‘Plush behind’, he had dug his hips into one of his pillows..He grunted, pulling himself to sit up and rubbing his face drearily. His brain was foggy, another groan from his bed sending a shutter down his spine and into his hips.

He didn't want to look, but like a drone, his chin dropped to his chest and he was met with the unmistakable outline of his throbbing cock, pressing against the fabric of his  boxers. He sighed, falling back to the mattress and combing through his hair with his hand, until he felt a soft texture crush his fingertips. He turned his gaze lazily, his gaze caught on a familiar crimson color. ‘Your damn scarf..’

He reached for it, flushing a bit in the cheeks as he brought it to his face..another instinctual move he had no control over. He deeply inhaled, feeling the smell trickle down his lungs into his stomach. He shuttered lightly, opening his eyes lazily and staring off at the cieling as the sickening feeling of shame flooded into his barely conscious mind. He knew it wouldn't go away, you wouldn't leave his mind, and because of it, his little..not so little, problem would also remain stubbornly active.

He closed his eyes again, maybe if he didnt see the scarf he would feel less guilty about the effect it was having. His hand pressed the fabric closer to his face, the other free hand slowly sneaking over his hip bone and causing him to involuntarily jut upward. He exhaled that first deep breath as the weight of his hand settled against his bulge and sent a muted humm of pleasure into his thighs. He took another moment to move again, a moment to at least settle on what to think about. Of course the only thing in his mind at the moment was you, that excited look on your face from the dream, the way your hair felt between his fingers as he kissed you..his hand slipped beneath his waistband, hurrying top push them down enough that he would ease the ache of his cock that was needily pressing into the now tight fabric. His grasp was light as he held himself, feeling the weight against his palm and considering himself for a moment..

Your voice invaded his imagination, a scripted coo into his ear, a fantasy of your sing songy tone, ‘excited Viktor?~’

His grip tightened around his shaft, he made one slow pass over it, making him inhale sharply through his teeth. He pressed your scarf to his mouth, taking in another intoxicating breath of you, his hand starting its slow, lazy pace as he squeezed his cock lightly with each stroke.

The scarf proved extremely effective in muffling his moan, one he didn't plan on, brought out as he pictured your hand rather than his, rubbing a bit faster. He felt a slight burn, lifting his hand away from his shaft for only so he could drag his tongue over his palm, giving himself a fair bit of saliva to better lube himself up with, before bringing it back to his cock and returning to a less lazy pace. The heat of his saliva brings an image of your perfect lips pressing into him, against his throat, against his hips, his cock.

His hip twitched into his tightening grip, sending an increasingly shocking amount of sensation through his stomach. He was shivering, the smell, your smell was all he could breathe in. It was as addictive as he anticipated it to be, sweet, strong, the intensity of pleasure it brought him was humiliating, especially knowing how much more noticeable it would be when he had to see you tomorrow. He wasn't sure how he would handle seeing you tomorrow.

You had smiled 15 times yesterday, the number tripled after he had touched you..oh and that touch was exquisite. HIs hand quickened, his breath was heavier, and he could feel the rumble of his groans as they sank into the soft fabric against his lips. Janna, he wanted to touch you again. With one touch, he had earned the luxury of knowing that, for a fact, your waist was as soft as he hoped..and the feeling..the squish of your flesh..it was enough to send a whimper from his throat. A shivering sensation spread down into his hips, his thumb pressing teasingly against the swollen head of his cock. He was shaking now, the weight of your body against his palm, he squeezed tighter around his shaft, his pace quickly becoming irregular. He groaned into the scarf, whining helplessly into the soft yarn, sighing shakily. His hips thrusted into his fist, greedily pushing himself toward the edge. He gritted his teeth, arching his back against the mattress as one last memory of you flooded into his psyche..the slight smile on your face after he let go of you, the little lean you made to chase him after it, the smallest sign of your returned affection.

He whimpered your name, the scarf not able to hide it as he held it tight to his chest, and white hot pleasure coursed through his body, down into his stomach and shooting through his hips as warm cum freckled his bare stomach.

His body collapsed into the mattress, his breath heavy and desperate, his release cooling soothingly against his belly as he fluttered his eyes open and started up into the night.

How was he going to look at you tommorow..

He couldn't figure it out in the morning..for now he reached over to his bedside table, gripping cold glass and sipping from the last remnants of your stained glass.

[thehistoriangirl]

Without Compromise [2]

I'm baaaack!!! With porn as a treat for my absence <3

Viktor x Fem! Reader-------4.9K-----NSFW

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

<- Previous /// Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor had never enjoyed any snobby party held in the luxurious districts around the Academy, though he can't deny this one is rather... peculiar. Still, when accompanying Jayce to another boring celebration ends with him stuck in an awkward situation when a stranger wanders inside the lab asking for him, he can´t help but comply with the unpredictable threads of a mocking fate--how else would he, from all the assisting guests, be inside in this mess?

Chapter Summary: Nights are fleeting, just as all the things you do in the dark...

Tags: | Blind Date | One Night Stand goes wrong -> | Matchmaking Shenenigans | Semi-public Sex | Oral Sex (both receiving) | Voyeurism (kinda) | Strangers to Lovers | Friends with Benefits | Smut and Light Angst|

Taglist: @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @slycazzz @vyshnevska

Second

Silence and dimmed lights became guardians shielding you from prying eyes,  perfect accomplices and only witnesses of how his hand perfectly fit against interlaced fingers once you led him away from the crowded dance floor. The gates of the exit shone with their golden handles, and Viktor was so ready to feel the characteristic tug of regret like a knot against his throat once you pulled them open, thief of his controlled breathing.

Yet, all he got was the growing lust burning deep inside him once his fingers already memorized the curves of your supple hips—knowing that they’d be even softer once you blessed him with the unrestricted touch of them without the fabric hugging your legs.

His golden gaze swept over your sweet form; such a beautiful fairy that had now enchanted him with your twinkling eyes and delicious mouth. Was it a response of the alcohol he’d been indulging in to stop boredom from creeping?

Perhaps. Though his mouth worked just fine, as he tested it while pressing your back against the rail of the staircase, body tilted over the edge for his arms to become your safety. Futile attempt to melt in with you, as it seemed distance was a cruel thing, to dare get between you two.

You cooed a restrained moan against his mouth once your hips rolled away the hard edge of the carved rail, wishing to relish in the supposed softness of his body, only to find an eager hardness that caught his breath.

Viktor grunted once feeling your hand palming him, a contented hum escaping your swollen lips. “What an improper Fairy you are,” he muttered, his warm hand pulling yours away, rough fingers, marked with tiny cutting scars and so many hours tinkering away interlacing against yours, elegant and soft.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to make it back to my apartment.”

“If you keep touching me like that, certainly no.”

 Despite your tone denoting shyness, you flashed him a beam that promised him trouble. “I believe we can make it in time if we hurry…”

Such little minx. With the way you jumped over each step of the staircase, waiting him patiently for him to descend. The movement made your body bounce in all the right places, probably the origin of his sudden dry throat.

Viktor had to slow down, not only for the familiar burn on his leg, or because the grab of his cane got shaky and unreliable; but for the strain against his pants, the seam between his legs both painful and alluring on its pressure.

He wondered if your hands could serve the same sensations.

Your sudden squeal tore him away from his daydreamings. Looking down, Viktor saw your figure tripping at the edge of the stair.

Grabbing onto the railing, you shoot him a pout as seeing him chuckling. “You’re mean,” you said, kneeling to see the problem your shoe was facing. Your poor left heel had broken.

“Someone needed to put a stop to you.”

“It should had been you.” Your smile was triumphant despite the circumstances.

Viktor sighed on his best attempt to appear unbothered, the touch of your fingers grazing as if lighting had struck his skin, a pull as if woken up from a long sleep into a gentle spring morning. “Let me see.” He hummed, looking at the part of the heel that had come unglued to the rest of the shoe. “I think I can fix it. Eh, do you know any place that could have nails, glue and a hammer around here, by chance?”

You nodded, flooding his senses with your unmistakable, rich perfume and the way your hand loved to squeeze his as if by instinct.

“I know a place. Follow me.”

By the time you arrived at the glass greenhouse, the light rain had soaked your hair and Viktor was so thankful for how the water had glued the silk dress against your skin. His warms fingers skimmed over your silhouette as you searched for a small beacon in the form of your desk lamp.

Otherwise bathed by silver moonlight, the beacon showed the golden details of your mask, your wet lips as your teeth continued biting them when Viktor knew it should be his to grace that favor.

Fixing a shoe was nothing compared with the machinery he worked with every day; his hands found the unfamiliar tools strangely comfortable, polished wood of the hammer’s handle from the constant use of your fingers; the delicate outline of your shoe against his palm, just as the incredibly thin heel you’d been supporting your poor ankles in.

From the darkness, he saw flapping wings skimming from tree branch to tall bushes, some of those curious little animals drawn to the light of your lamp.

“What is this place?” he said, observing the multicolored moths, yellow and pink, and white and blue all gather over the desk.

“It’s a greenhouse for moth-keeping,” you explained, happily petting one of the bolder moths landing on your bodice. “In each section we have an eclipse of a specific species. They live their last days here.”

“I think I should’ve asked why you know all that?” Viktor sat at the edge of a shallow fountain, the current of water falling gently against the quiet ambiance.

“Oh! I’m a lepidopterist. I study moths.” You rummage on the bottom drawer of your desk covered in stunning drawings of moths. “See?”

From the emotion of the moment, you had forgot to hide your name with the pads of your fingers as you’ve done with your ID number. By the dim interior it was barely visible, with only some letters he could try make sense of.

Viktor was content with the anonymity—no attachments that would conduct to no regrets. He could be his shameless self without feeling the restraint of his public image, of the well-crafted image of gentleman. Behind the image of hard-working inventor.

But the last name rung like an emergency bell. Member of a renown research family in the Biology Department, mostly for exotic species overseas.

“Here it is,” Viktor announced, pride blooming in his chest when the shoe got restored to its former self, white lace flown delicately to hug your ankle, flowers made of cotton sewn into the front to match with the dress.

He looked at you before giving you the shoe, the skirt of your dress brushing his pants as you tried to lift it off. His eyes couldn’t stop the alluring path marked by the fabric, the middle line of your thighs and what such valley waited for him between your legs.

Again, he expected the regret to come in waves; shamefully looking away as he found a pitiful excuse to leave.

Instead, he stood up from the edge of the fountain and knelt in front of you, thanking the soft grass for being kind with his leg. Though he knew it wouldn’t matter. If instead of grass it would be a rock or mosaic or bland dirt.

He felt himself burning that he doubted he’d care if these were alight embers.

The sight was heavenly, being knelt in front of a vision, a goddess of unruly hair shining like an untamed halo, a butterfly mask hiding your features, though he could still saw those eyes that burned with lust and desire. Core exposed to his greedy gaze while he took the sight of your underwear, lace outlining that little, pretty piece of clothing Viktor wanted so badly to rip off you.

He felt his cock twitch inside his pants, wishing to be free. To be cradled into your loving, curious palm. To be taken inside of your warmth, wet folds. Maybe even your mouth…

And all that could occur tonight. Because you wanted him—without caring who he was or what he could do for you. Just for being… him. And he wanted you, so, so badly. And such reciprocation was the push of bravery he needed, taking your ankle with one of his talented hands, the weight of it welcomed on his shoulder.

Curiosity prickled his restless mind. He wanted to know more. Forbidden territory.

You tugged his hair, buckling your hips against his face once his breath caressed the burning skin.

He smiled, beckoning your ethereal being, a dream that would slip off his hands next morning.

He better made your time together count.

His gaze was dark and rich, like addicting whiskey, just as intoxicating as the aroma of your body lotion now all wrapped around him. An enticing embrace he wanted to melt into.

Fingers caressed the supple skin of your thighs, your flesh soft and pliant under his needy, hungry touch. Such a sinew way up your leg, all the curves, from your calf to your knee to the curve of your butt.

And then, between them, the flashing of an innocent, beige cotton fabric.

Viktor smirked at seeing the dark spot leaking from it; perfectly drawn in the middle where your core was.

You squirmed under his playful fingers, hands greedy to gather your skirts up and yet not so much or else you couldn’t see his eyes freezing you in place, like a prey ready to lounge.

To feast.

“Sir…” you keened, his name never making its way to your memory. What would be the point, if everything was meant to end after tonight? His hair was so soft under your hand, nails scratching his scalp as you urged him to continue. He was so close, and you were so sure you’d be too, very soon.

He grunted in half indignation, half aroused at your hair tugging. “You’re going to dishevel my hair, little Fairy.”

“I’ll help you brush it once you’re done.” You helped him, hooking your thigh up his shoulder, until you felt his hot breath hit the soaking spot between your legs, still not ready enough as there was fabric interposing between his gaze and your skin.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you’d have the energy for that,” he teased, only half-joking. Teeth bit your inner thigh, if only to taste your tangy skin, salty and  sweet from the lotion, parched with the distinctive, alkali flavor of your arousal.

Your hips buckled closer, and such eagerness made him take lick from that wet spot seeping through your panties. His gaze threatened to close shut, his taste buds overflown by the savor of you against his lapping tongue, its tip wishing to circle your clit even through the fabric.

Viktor would’ve wished to record the sound elicited from your mouth inside his brain, to keep in all the rest of lonely nights he’ll go through, just as his memory engraved the sensation of his nose buried against the throbbing button of your pleasure. Fingers digging at the waistband of your underwear.

You writhed as Viktor’s fingers outlined your ass cheeks, feeling the cold surface of the marble fountain under your naked skin once your lacy clothes got wrapped like a messy ribbon around his skillful hand. 

With a single lap, Viktor ended with his chin coated in your arousal, tongue enjoying the soaking wet, plush, rosy skin between your folds. Methodical licks to explore every corner, blowing cold air over your molten core, becoming his experiment; lips sucking your little bud to enjoy how you squealed in surprise. Your body still bouncing and rubbing against his face, enjoying the roughness added for the outline of his black mask.

The greenhouse bathed in silver moonlight displayed you like a work of art, closed off from many eyes as Viktor wished to keep you in his bedroom, with your heaving chest, sweaty body, a muse he would love to have in a print tucked in the pocket on his chest—no, he would get you inside his room, prompted in the wall in front of his bed so you could help alleviate the terrible insomnia that sometimes sieged him.

He licked your clit in different rhythms, always eager in the matter of discovery even when it was about pleasure. Which made you pull his hair the hardest. So, Viktor could be a little mean, his well trimmed nails still leaving crescent marks in the supple flesh of your thighs as he pulled them upwards, the more open the better.

Such pushes would make your walls flutter against his mouth, now marked forever with the overwhelming, luscious taste of ripe fruit and sweetness and the alkaline aftertaste you left on his now puffy tongue.

His golden eyes beckoned you, chest heaving that he thought you’d rip the clothing of your corset. And what a beautiful sight was your crumpled skirt around your heavenly body, like a cloud surrounding a goddess that had come to bestow him with the loving, unbridled touches of passion which otherwise would be fleeting for such a busy and lonely scientist as he was.

“Sir…” you cooed, legs still parted so he could see your pretty rosy walls keep fluttering around nothing, surely glistening just as much as his coated chin. “Let me kiss you.”

Viktor chuckled, using his cane to propel himself up his wobbly legs. Your eyes followed the movement, standing up next to him, which made him frown upon the now lost sight of your beautiful legs.

“Sit,” you hummed, pressing your hand over his chest to guide him toward the edge of the chirping fountain, the only witness of your union. “You should rest.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Viktor retorted, groaning at the claustrophobic grasp his pants were trapping his cock, an unmistakable sight that made you chuckle—such a mischievous sound for someone looking so adorable. It made him want to uncover you whole, a crime that you were hiding under such ethereal costume. “Look what have you done to me.”

Completely stripping him of the decorum asked in this society, away of the otherwise ear-shattering scream of reason resounding on his mind. This could end his career, the one he so hard had worked to build. This would convince everyone that he was a degenerate, a threat for Piltover’s proper society.

Still, you didn’t feel like a threat. Not in the way you so delicately unbuttoned his pants, ignoring the bland white trousers underneath as your nails scratched the bushy trail of his navel to find what you were looking for.

You hummed, gently taking him in your hand, red and hard. It was impossible for him to hold in a groan, sensing his twitching cock against your exhaled sigh, fingers enveloping his shaft.

“Little Fairy…” he could barely mumble, feeling his face bright red. He wished it to sound like a nag, but it was more like a plea.

“You’re big,” you said with a stunning beam, lifting up your skirt and pushing it against his chest, with him still cradled in your hand. “Go easy on me, hmm?”

You sat on his lap, legs innocently swinging in the air as you turned to face him.

Viktor frowned. “Wha—” his civilized words were wiped out, replaced by a primitive groan that had won the fight between reason and need once again. But he just couldn’t. You were so wet and tight, yet inviting, eager to burrow him into the deepest part of your core. Almost as if knowing that otherwise he would leave and never return. “Miss Fairy,” he breathed. “We’re in a public space and…”

“And what?” you said, nibbling down his jawline. Even if he couldn’t see you, he felt your smile. “Are you afraid someone could see us? But why? If you’re pleasuring me so, so well.” You smiled, cradling his face. “It would serve them as a lesson.”

You cooed happily at feeling his cock twitch, your thighs now surrounding his lean hips, not caring that your shoes were wetting wet against the edge of the fountain. Not even the freezing water could distract you from the fire coursing through both of you when he directed your face to kiss you, filling your mouth with the taste of you, with his active tongue ready to play tug-of-war with yours for control.

“Are you afraid of someone knowing that you’ve claimed me tonight?” you said, and even if the words stirred a primal part of him with a pulsating yes, you’re as mine as I’m yours; his reason opened ways over the fog clouding his brain.

That’s what you wanted: an escape. An escape from your imminent engagement, of your family’s and Piltover’s expectations. Just like he wanted to be freed of this city’s asphyxiating grasp; with its snob societal rules that declared he should stand back his ability to help for what they desired.

To be caged and judged like an odd animal in a zoo, soon to be discarded if seemed useless.

Viktor had been selfless all his life, yet so lonely; because it wasn’t a secret that people who liked to give rarely get back. But not tonight.

Tonight he desired you. And he wasn’t going to hold back.

“I’m not,” he said, grabbing your hips under your skirts to help you with balance once his started to move, seeking to reach the deepest part of your pussy, so warmth and welcoming.

You moaned, your hands easing on his shoulders as you started to ride him. Those pretty squelchy sounds barely audible over the flowing water of the fountain.

“Sir… oh, Sir…” you called, the corset of your dress brushing against his chest in a bouncing motion, with Viktor’s hands itching to unlace it and feel the delicate curve of your back, how would you shiver with the mix of his caresses and the feather-like kisses down your neck.

Yet still among the cacophony of his roaring heart and your breathy song, Viktor noticed the odd shadow peeking over some topiaries, recognizing the golden glow of Sylvester’s brushed back hair.

He should’ve felt shame. Fear, perhaps. You’ve been caught, it was over. It had to be.

Viktor bore his gaze toward the shadow in a defying mockery, your words echoing as his hips continued to move, every time more erratically than the last, lost in the warmth of your intimate embrace. He only let your skirt fall down—to cover you, because he was a gentleman after all.

“Kiss me, Little Fairy,” Golden gaze looking up at your ajar lips and half-closed eyelids with reverence.

It should serve them as a lesson, you’ve said, and Viktor believed it. He doubted that bland man over there could make you squirm and coo as he did, to mold you in the perfect sculpture of pleasure.

You giggled, brushing your nose against him. “Always.”

The shadow loomed closer, furious stomps breaking branches and echoing against the cobblestone path. You didn’t notice, and Viktor didn’t care, smirking against your messy kiss, revitalized tongue wishing to memorize every corner your mouth.

“My Little Fairy…” he said, if only for the unwelcomed presence. Kissing down the elegant curve of your neck to leave a bite in the joint between shoulder and neck. “There you go,” Viktor hummed, surprised that you didn’t mind such unnecessary proof of your encounter. “Such a goddess…”

He looked at Sylvester, daring him to cross the circle of light.

So he could see how you deserved to be pleased.

Your body trembled, halting your dance. “Ah—,” you breathed, and Viktor felt your walls squeeze him oh so deliciously.

It had been a while since Viktor had sex. Because he knew using his hand in the shower didn’t count. So he tried to hold in the incessant waves of pleasure sieging him. Biting his lip, closing his eyes shut.

By the next blink, the intruder had disappeared, only leaving a trail of moving branches on its wake.

“Sir…” you called with a giggle. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing…”

“You’re a terrible liar,” you said, leaning to cradle his cheeks with your hands and give him a deep, slow kiss as you started to move sensually, slowly, feeling the soft cotton of his pants brush your thighs, his panting breath crashing against your collarbones that were by now peppered in kisses. “Come on. Finish. I don’t mind.”

“I think you should finish first, Little Fairy,” Viktor leaned your fac to kiss you. “It’s the least a gentleman should do.”

You laughed, voice melting in a choked moan once his rough fingerpad circled your swollen clit, soaked, hot and sensitive.

Your hair tickled the curve of his neck once you burrowed your face against it, your essence all tangled in his as he felt you stiffen under his loving cradling.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he muttered against your hair. “Don’t be shy. Let me see you while you finish.” Viktor took your chin, lifting up to meet his gaze as he took in your heavy-lidded eyes, swollen lips panting ajar, such a deep gaze burning against his. “So you don’t forget this humble lover of yours.”

You smiled softly. “This lover of mine,” you whispered, like a secret, your words gone with the wind once your body shook like a leaf, spams hugging his cock, greedily sucking it even deeper, as if you wished to never let him go. “Sir….”

He kissed your forehead, just above the edge of your mask. “My Little Fairy, you’re truly otherworldly.”

“Sir, why didn’t you finish?” you said once Viktor had to begrudgingly put you away, at this point it was marvel that he could keep himself from exploding. He felt a wave of cold hug him, missing your warmth and softness, though he had to stop his longing hand from reaching you once again.

“I… I don’t…”

“Liar,” you hummed, grabbing your puffy skirt as it was your turn to knelt, looking at him with those deep, twinkling doe-like eyes as your rosy tongue poked his tip, getting familiar with the mix of his precum and your essence.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” Viktor groaned, looking how your swollen lips traveled all over his shaft, giving little kisses and licks along the sensible, throbbing skin.

He could pull you away, and yet he knew it would’ve been his biggest mistake of the whole night.

“Good,” you mumbled. “That way you would remember me.”

He couldn’t form a coherent sentence when you took him in your mouth. But he doubted he could ever forget the twinkle in your eyes that was filled with curiosity and bravery. They were like nocturne wonders, as you, too, seemed to be only appear at night.

Only tonight, his mind didn’t forget to remind him.

Viktor cupped your hollowed cheeks, feeling your tongue lapping greedily, wishing for him to finish inside your mouth.

It was then when Viktor heard—a miracle among his pounding heartbeat and ragged pants—the metal door of the greenhouse squeak open. Followed by steps. Multiple steps.

He didn’t think twice, taking hold of one of your hands, almost grieving the lost of your weight against his left thigh once he pulled you upwards.

You grunted, an utterly adorable pout that glittered in your swollen and wet lips. Before you could discover them both with one more than deserved offended retort, he put his free hand over your lips, golden eyes boring into yours.

“Keep quiet,” he leaned against your ear to whisper. “There’s someone here.”

“Someone that shouldn’t see us together?”

He nodded, grabbing his cane, his hand firm in yours while he guided you toward the opposite end of the fountain. The floor was cold against his flushed skin, having to hold a grunt once he accommodated his cock inside his pants, trapping it inside once more.

This damned luck, he thought, looking how diligently you looked while gathering your skirt so any of it could be seen once the intruders started to walk toward the light.

 One thing was to consider breaking the rules without further consequence; and another to drag you both down with them.

He could abandon you, but he wasn’t cruel. Yet he didn’t consider himself careless, to even think to lose everything he’d worked on for something so… banal.

Viktor knew you’d never see him again. That this, as much fun and pleasure as you were having, was just sex.

“They were here,” Sylvester retorted, strides careless now that the dimmed light of the desk had uncovered an empty courtyard. “It was her. The dress was unmistakable.”

The ground was moist from the breeze coming down the pouring fountain under your fingers, the stupid, puffy skirt of your dress pushed between your aching legs as Viktor peeked over the fountain edge to see the silhouettes of what he supposed were your parents. Richly dressed and backs rigid from years of training under the merciless gaze of Piltovan’s wealthiest.

“You probably confused her,” your father said rather angrily. “Do you think my daughter would do something so inappropriate? What kind of parents do you think we are, Mister?”

“I don’t mind any ill comment upon yourselves!” Sylvester tried to defend himself, yet every word uttered sounded worse than the last. “It’s that your daughter… she’s…”

“Be very careful how you talk about my only child, Mister,” your father intervened, the cacophony of the argument growing enough for Viktor to tug your arm and starting to slide toward the formation of bushes. A green, natural wall between the fountain and the wild greenery of the rest of the greenhouse.

“Maybe she was seduced by that vulgar womanizer,” Sylvester added, changing the approach. “She’s young and naïve.”

Viktor’s steps almost halted, your body stopping moving from the nearby exit.

He gazed at you, eyes wide open. What are you doing?

“What is that?” your mother inquired, gazing toward your direction.

“Probably just these critters,” your father responded, swatting away the mots enticed by the light of the lamp you had left on. “Let’s go. Our daughter should be looking for us.”

You surely weren’t, helping Viktor opening a side door that led you to a dark corner of the gardens. Even if you looked like a vision, with your hairdo messy and face flushed and sweaty; the façade of a proper lady had long gone with the mud staining the edge of your shoes and the essence that seemed to cling to your skin, like lust and adrenaline.

It was clear you had just had sex. And even if Viktor felt pride grow inside his chest at how he made you feel, he knew that nobody should look at you like this, or else rumors would spread, and Sylvester would talk.

And his words etched in Viktor’s mind, too. In a way, Sylvester wasn’t that far-fetched. A womanizer, certainly not, but Viktor did was the reason why you were doing these crazy things. Risky things. And for something so… silly.

Was it silly? The way he felt the most alive in a long while.

If he’d be caught, not only he would be ostracized from Piltovan society even further, but also, it would shut off all opportunities he had ever since helping create Hextech. Viktor didn’t mind being behind the shadow of Jayce—it was rather better, without having to tell your plans out loud and intervene like a public figure in events, drained from fake-crafted charm.

Viktor was first and foremost an inventor, not a man. Not really.

To be led upon simply by mundane desire was something very unfamiliar that for a moment he considered if you had pulled a spell on him, that your costume as Fairy wasn’t much of a costume.

“I’ll accompany you to the main gate,” Viktor said once you were far enough the greenhouse and nearby the entrance. “I think it’s better if we go our separate ways, Miss Fairy.”

You looked at him, and not even the sparks in your mask could hide the dimming twinkle in your eyes that felt like a punch on Viktor’s chest.

“Are you sure?” you mumbled.

“I don’t want to jeopardize our situation,” Viktor had to confess, hoping you would understand, even when in his mind he was struggling to put his tangled thoughts into words. “Putting us in danger for sex is rather foolish, and I don’t wish to put our reputations in jeopardize, if I have to be honest with you, Miss Fairy.”

His words dawned on you, probably in the wrong way for the way your steps wobbled away from him. He tried to steady you, but it felt wrong to touch you in the open like this when so much more had happened behind closed doors.

“Don’t misinterpreted me, I truly enjoy your company.” And a very deep part of him wished to have more, a truly stupid desire he had to tore from its roots. “You… you made me feel…”

“That’s alright,” you said, smiling at him though your tone cut through his words like a downpour of freezing water. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I think it’ll be better if I walk alone, so people don’t see you with me.”

It was such a logic step to follow, so why Viktor felt a hollow growing in his belly once you turned your back at him?

“Goodbye, Sir.” His goddess was walking away, at it wasn’t even dawn.

He had to bit his tongue to avoid calling you back.

It would be better this way; he’d drown in work once again tomorrow, and as the days go by, he’d forget you—only blinks of your presence would be summoned in those long, monotone nights when Viktor sought the comfort and intimacy of a lover.

Your humble lover, he told you. And he was.

Viktor watched your dress disappear between the trees until your presence became but a dream, leaving only the ghost of your kisses marked with lipstick that would wash off once he arrived home.

He should have never gone to that party.

[tales-from-elysivm]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ arcane masterlist ꒱ ˎˊ˗

~ a masterlist for my arcane fanfics ~

vi

bark like you want it (vi x f!reader, sevika x f!reader)

just keep driving (vi x gn!reader, jinx x gn!reader)

jinx

get jinxed (jinx x f!reader)

just keep driving (vi x gn!reader, jinx x gn!reader)

sevika

bark like you want it (vi x f!reader, sevika x f!reader)

mel

n/a

jayce

n/a

viktor

n/a

silco

n/a

vander

n/a

caitlyn

n/a

ekko

n/a

[maycat-19-142]

Viktor Krum reaction to seeing you after the war

A/n: enjoy

⚠️:wounds

He ran thought the broken halls and collapse ceilings. He ran till he reached the great hall. Then he heard your voice. "I think he is ok" he looked in to see you helping rap a wound of a man who was asking about someone. Viktor ran over to you and said "I thought I lost you" you turned and hugged him.

I'm rewatching harry potter. Have a good day and night 🌙

Pixie out 🧚‍♀️

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope redefined (part 1)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1

Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Previous fics summarized below if you don't have time to read them!

Prequel summary: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope at Risk follows canon for episodes 5-9 of Season 1, with some references to LoL lore for post-Season 1 events. Viktor hides his prognosis and the nature of his Hexcore experiments from YN for as long as possible, until his life is in jeopardy after the Council attack and YN finally finds out. YN and Jayce share the decision-making burden in not destroying the Hexcore so that Viktor's life can be saved. Viktor withdraws while processing all of these black-swan events (Hexcore integration, new city of Zaun, his Zaunite and Piltovan identities, etc), but hopes to work through his demons enough to return to YN. In the meantime, he moves to Emberflit Alley in Zaun where he hopes to rebuild who he is and figure out who wants to be.

If missed, the prior work notes that Viktor refers to YN as 'Sparrow' sometimes, which is because he finds her lively and likeable.

This last work refers to Arcane Season 1 canon first and foremost, then interprets post-Season-1 events by incorporating elements from older LoL lore. The majority of this piece will not follow Season 2 canon as it's not out at the time of writing, but Viktor's plotline in this work is written to be as plausible of a Season 2 fan theory as possible.

The first work in this series deals primarily with hope as per the title; the second deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided. This final work reckons with recovery, rebirth, and rebuilding.

White light washes over Viktor, the sensation somewhat uncomfortable because he can feel the static humming of the Hextech that powers the while building. The hum courses through him, equal parts dissonant and attuned to his own wavelength, and the dichotomy sets his anxiety through the roof. He pulls his cloak around his form tighter, then lets the fabric go, then tightens it again; he can’t decide if he’s cold or hot or everything in between. Does he want to be beheld? Does he want to hide, or to relieve himself of the heavy blue fabric?

Viktor eventually decides to throw off the cloak in a fit of frustration, shaking off the fabric into the seat next to him. It slumps off the slick plastic at once, red inner-lining-side first, and he scowls at the sight of it.

Jayce looks up from across the hallway. The Councillor’s face, normally flushed and swarthy, takes on an odd pallor in the terrible lighting. Viktor imagines that his own face seems white as a sheet, if not by his own usual paleness, then by his urge to vomit, and thirdly by the light overhead. Something in Jayce’s expression makes Viktor scowl; he’s not sure if his old partner intended to comfort him or not, but whatever it is has the opposite effect. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Jayce says, fingers worrying at the skin on his thumbs. “But she’ll be okay.”

“If you don’t know what to say, then I highly recommend silence,” Viktor snaps. He drops his head into his hands (ow; he forgot just how much metal he’d laced into his fingertips and how little he had — that is, none —  in his forehead), fingers irritatedly ruffling his untamable hair. Mel, bless her, places her hand over Jayce’s to keep the man from opening his mouth again. Jayce wisely closes his lips, but elects instead to bounce his knee in his own worry.

Viktor glares at the movement as dark thought swirl in his mind. If only it were appropriate to unleash the wrath of his Hexclaw on Jayce’ thigh — anything to reduce the amount of unwanted input in what felt like Viktor’s final seconds of sanity — but alas, a hospital hallway was no place to be misusing one’s own dangerous technologies. He’s had enough of hospitals for a lifetime, having been in and out for his own maladies (most of which were triggered by his deteriorating lungs, all thanks to Zaunite Gray) or those of the people he kept most close (which were few, but these people were disappointingly prone to being attacked). He much prefers the comfort of his laboratory and former apartment in Zaun; the little unit in Emberflit Alley had become a place of health and recovery not only for him but for the community members he was now able to assist. Some ailments, however, could not be solved with his biomechanical expertise. Or perhaps they could, if he decided to cavort with chembarons and throw away his morals for the sake of bleeding-edge treatments. But he knows that a filigree-fine line exists between his life’s work and the corrupted body modifications made available by those with more lax standards of care, and thus he begrudgingly admits that hospitals do have their uses in the business of saving lives.

At the slightest noise coming from the door a few feet away from him, Viktor bounces to his feet with Jayce in hot meerkat-esque pursuit. But it’s always Mel who yanks them both down; Jayce with a pointed tug, and Viktor with a perfectly raised eyebrow. “You’re both too tall and take up too much space; you’re getting in the way,” she reminds them each time as disgruntled nurses mutter their discontent while side-stepping the two men. It’s still unsettling to Viktor to be this new height; for the majority of his adult life he’d been slight in frame and much shorter than Jayce. He’s still reasonably wiry now, but the Hexcore seems to want him a bit more elongated. Viktor finds that he doesn’t particularly mind this; it’s not something he ever yearned for, but it is somewhat useful to be able to find you easily in a Progress Day crowd or to be able to build his shelving vertically and make use of every inch of his unit.

Then it hits him — he has no idea what the Hexcore means for anyone’s future but his own. It’s lengthened (and saved) his life, given him strength, and more importantly given him the science needed to make Hexcore technology available to Zaunite masses. But Viktor is alone in his augments; there is only one Void-touched Hexcore on the planet, and it briefly lived inside him. To what extent is he human and to what extent is he machine? He’s measured every inch of himself with careful documentation and knows the exact percentage of biological to technical matter on his person. But with the voice inside his head (or rather, flowing through his veins) being unique to him alone, he is reminded at perhaps the worst possible moment that he is entering into a greater unknown than when he first carved runes into his leg.

He waves at Jayce, almost snapping his fingers to get the other man to look up before Mel elbows Jayce in the side. Eyebrows raised in question, he rattles off a series of questions to his former partner.

“The blood samples we ran; the last series had no traces of Void in the plasma, correct?”

“Affirmative…” Jayce says tentatively, unsure what Viktor is getting at.

“And what of the blood cells themselves?”

“We haven’t seen corrupted cells in years — wait, you know all of this—“

Viktor cuts him off, eyes wild as he races through his memory for the data, the facts, the evidence. “And the last blood sample to surpass our threshold was?”

“I don’t know, three years ago? Where are you going with this—”

“—Viktor,” Mel cuts in, her hand gently squeezing her fiancé. “There shouldn’t be any issues. Your blood hasn’t presented with Void in years and you’ve had no symptoms since you perfected the Hexcore; it’s been several iterations since we last saw any evidence of the Void in any of your technologies. She will be fine,” Mel emphasizes firmly. “—And she will be in perfect health.”

At those last words, Viktor’s panic rises again. Yes, he’s doing well now, but how many years had he been inhaling the noxious Gray? It had nearly eroded his own lifespan to a single, fraying thread, and he knows that the risk of illnesses lying dormant is non-zero. Could he have—?

Mel gives him a withering look (how dare she? She should be comforting him right now, not scolding him—) that sends him settling back into his chair as best as he can. “No amount of fretting will change anything now, Viktor. Whatever happens, everything will work out in the end.”

He bites at the inside of his cheek, crosses his good leg over his custom-built one, and tries his damnedest to calm his racing heart. When another loud noise comes from the room, he tenses, but stays put. Picking at his nails, Viktor forces himself to think about anything other than what’s happening a few feet away from him, and focuses instead on the miracle of his own survival. If he could make it through all that, then certainly, hopefully, probably things would be just fine for you. 

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Viktor sits at his ‘operating table,’ left hand restrained and right hand poised with metal instruments between his fingers. A bead of sweat trickles from his forehead to his cheek despite the cool, fresh air he’s made it a point to have circulating throughout his home. It was right for him to have sent you away, he thinks. You’d only have gotten unnecessarily worried and perhaps even prevented him from completing this task quickly. It wasn’t a knock on you, of course; he appreciates the concern and his heart wrenches at the thought of you pacing in your old room at the Heimerdinger Estate while you wait for his letters. But he knows what he’s doing is nothing short of risky, and he finds it best to not concern you more than necessary.

He can do this… right? He’s not quite sure. While he’d taken advantage of the Council’s attention being spent wholly on the impending war with Noxus, as well as exploited some of Jayce’ guilt in coercing his former partner to let him stay awake during his first amputation, it was one thing to have a team of Piltover’s best surgeons working on one limb. It was entirely another to attempt the same on your own, at home, without meaningful assistance beyond a lumbering sanitation golem. 

t wasn’t Blitzcrank’s fault he was built too large for fine motor control. The golem had been largely uncomfortable with Viktor’s proposal, but it was in the greater part of his nature to cede to his maker. Blitzcrank seemed to understand that this procedure was necessary for Viktor’s own betterment, if not that of the twin cities Piltover and Zaun. He understood purging and cleaning, and when Viktor explained the procedure to Blitzcrank in those terms, the golem seemed much more accepting of it.

You, on the other hand, were far too worried about the myriad risks (what if Viktor lost too much blood? What if there was irreparable damage? What if the Void refused to let Viktor go?), as you should be. But Viktor was adamant.

“I will not marry you until I have this removed from me,” he’d said in response to your first attempt at proposing. Then went the leg, but the hand remained out of his doctor’s concern for too many procedures at once.

Of course, you wanted him to have his hand removed back in Piltover’s hospitals, where your inherited wealth afforded unbelievable standards of care. But he refused again, asserting that he had learned enough during the first amputation to do it himself, and that it was necessary for him to do so if he were to help others with Hextech implants. That conversation ended in such a spectacular fight that you left Emberflit Alley a week before intended, and you’d kept your meetings to neutral grounds near the bridges for the weeks since.

If anything, the separation served as additional motivation for Viktor to get this done. The sooner that his Void-corrupted hand was gone and the whole debacle behind him, the sooner you would thaw and be back in his arms more regularly. So he hisses now as he plunges local anesthetic into his upper arm, then patiently waits the requisite time before poking at his flesh experimentally. With a scalpel, he tests his sensory status (Blitzcrank pointedly turns away so not to look) — oops, not ready yet, Viktor winces, and waits a few more minutes. A few tests later, he’s satisfied with the numbness. He takes a brief look at his meticulous notes, written from his observations during the first surgery. Jayce had tried watching, if only to assist with note-taking so that Viktor could be sure he hadn’t missed anything, but the younger man became squeamish very quickly and excused himself after the first cut. Now, Viktor squints at the methods he’s outlined for himself, following them nearly to-the-letter as he carefully separates his accursed hand from his arm.

A few hours later and well into the night, Viktor slumps over the table and weakly loosens his restraints. He’s fully soaked in his own sweat, which he becomes aware of as he drinks perhaps his first full glass of cold water in hours. Must remember to diligently take antibiotics, he instructs himself, before experimentally raising his working arm for a sniff. Recoiling, he tells himself to reach out to Heimerdinger at once for recommendations on the strongest medications available.

With bated breath, Viktor tries commanding his left hand to open. Nothing happens, and he wonders if perhaps he got his wires literally crossed and may have only a cosmetic appendage for the rest of his life. Then he remembers the considerable dose of morphine he’d administered throughout the whole process, and puts more effort into his mind-body-machine connection.  At first the movement is imperceptible; his new, mechanical pinky finger might have lifted by a fragment of a millimeter, or his exhausted eyes may be playing tricks on him. Then it happens; the metal of his finger unfurls, slowly, then the rest of his new fingers follow. He lets out a warbled cry of relief or triumph, he’s not sure which, and Blitzcrank ambles over to investigate at once.

“Does it work, Father?”

Viktor’s mouth quirks up at the edge at that; he may have given Blitzcrank sentience, but he had not programmed the golem with any such honorifics. That, the golem had chosen on his own.  “It does indeed,” Viktor crows. “But now, I am tired and sick of smelling iron and must sleep.”

He remembers to carefully shower first, but only realizes Blitzcrank has cleaned his gory mess for him when he wakes the next morning. Viktor raises his arm, experimentally opening and closing his mechanical fist, then leaps out of bed to send you a letter. In his excitement, his ankle tangles with his sheets and he is sent flying into the doorframe; the swollen edges of his wound scream in protest. Viktor, too, screams in agony, his good hand curling up in an effort to divert the sensation of pain, and he makes another mental reminder to ask you to send the best pain medication you can find. 

To his credit, Viktor’s sketch of his new, Voidless hand have omitted any gruesome scenes, and you arrive at his doorstep as soon as you can, ready to nurse him back to full health.

"I can’t believe you did it,” you tell him when he opens the door, though he’s not sure if you’re saying that in amazement or in disappointment (probably both). But he’s just relieved that he’s accomplished his goals, which unlock his ability to do what he really wants: propose. But for now, he shuts the door behind you and gingerly keeps his new implant away from any other surfaces. 

———————————————————————————————————————————————

Jayce leaves at some point to get coffee, in part because it is well past midnight and in part because Viktor looks terrible. Viktor takes the paper cup from the councilman with his left hand; the harsh overhead light glints off of his machinery and takes Viktor out of his reverie. With the cup delicately balanced in between his index finger and thumb, he wiggles the other three lightly and allows himself to appreciate his handiwork.

Several ‘upgrades’ in from his initial self-surgery, he’s happy with his results. His left hand no longer sends traces of metallic purple coming up the skin of the arm, and this iteration, he hopes, will be the last. It had taken a while to figure out what he needed; the first hand he’d built was carefully designed over a period of several fraught weeks, but had been clunky and finicky (as evidenced by the many plates he’d dropped). The next was better, but still tended to unsettle you when it made loud noises against any hard surfaces. Thus Viktor had continued to refine the technology, each iteration giving him greater and more human-like motor control than the last, but he’d insisted on keeping the mechanical aesthetic to remind himself (and everyone around him) that he was not trying to mimic biology.

He downs the coffee in two gulps — a ratio of far too much sweet-milk for such a small amount of coffee helped take down its heat. Crushing the cup in his hand, he tosses the paper into the waste bin nearby him, then wipes down any liquid droplets with a soft cloth he keeps in his pocket expressly for this purpose.

Viktor can feel Mel and Jayce staring at his hand. It’s been years, and they’re more used to seeing it than other people, but Viktor still finds himself self-conscious at times. It’s only natural; his leg is usually hidden beneath socks, shoes, and pants, but his hand is a bit harder to conceal (that, and wearing gloves over the hardware would lead to faster breakdown, what with fibers getting into the gears and the like). Piltovans especially have yet to fully warm up to the body augmentation idea; many, Viktor knows, still associatere43 any physical modifications with the chembaron goons that took advantage of the early-independence mayhem.

Things are better, certainly, what with a few higher-profile Piltovan elites beginning to adopt mechanical body parts when life-saving measures call for it. Even those of mechanical races, wary of Hextech’s strange combination of magic and technology, had started to cease their objections to human-machine augmentation. Bolbok in particular had been extremely opposed to Viktor’s work when he started, but once his dating life with humans improved, the councillor stopped insulting Hextech and started investing instead.

Curling his fingers into a tight fist, Viktor rests his forehead on his hand and exhales slowly — anything to calm his frazzled nerves. Then, miraculously, the door opens. Three pairs of eyes dart up to the nurse, who gives Viktor a tired, but warm look and beckons for him to follow her. Jayce manages to weakly clap Viktor on the back as he walks by. Viktor swallows thickly as he enters, feeling anxious energy crackle into his mechanics, but as soon as he sees your face (exhausted! But somehow, beneath your bedraggled hair and the sheen of sweat, it’s the expression on your face that radiates brilliantly through it all) it all dissipates. Your eyes raise to see meet his, and the sheer power of your gaze stops him in his tracks at the doorway.  It’s here, the future he always wanted but thought would never happen. He vows to spend the next eternity in your debt for the wonderful gift you’ve afforded him. 

“Come in, ‘Papa,’” the nurse encourages him. “It’s time to meet your little girl.”

At her prompting, Viktor rushes forward, completely ignoring the bustle of doctors and nurses either cleaning up or tending to your care. Of course, they’re used to such behavior from new fathers and expertly dodge him as he hurries to your side. He barely makes it; his legs feel like jelly. Even the one he’d been strengthening and improving year over year feels like it will buckle under his completely normal weight. He steadies himself on the bed railings with his metallic hand, forcing the grip itself to keep him upright, then dips down to press grateful kisses to your lips and face in total devotion.

You weakly chuckle at the sudden input, but before you can say anything, Viktor straightens his spine, looks to the skies, and takes a deep breath in preparation. You know what he’s doing; emotionally centering himself before his world falls apart. But this time, you know it’s falling apart for the best of reasons.

Finally, Viktor opens his eyes, then looks at the bundle in your arms. Tears flow down his cheeks at once. The only shred of his prior sanity, which had him locking his mechanical leg, keeps him upright now. You watch him with a tender gaze, gesturing with your head to ask him whether he wants to try holding the little being. He nearly breaks internally but nods with wavering eyes.

His voice drops to a whisper as he takes his child from your embrace. Everything about his posture screams `trepidation’ as he delicately and slowly brings the child closer into his chest. Viktor barely remembers to control the tactile temperature of his augmented hand — he brings it up to a comfortable warmth now.

“Hello, dear Robin,” he manages to get out. You smile at him, lifting a hand to rub at his arm encouragingly. As Viktor looks down into the scrunched face of his daughter, he feels his world both expanding and contracting in a million directions at once. “Welcome to your family.” Robin responds by opening her eyes. Though it’s clear she still loathes the bright overhead lights, as she drinks in her father’s face, you can tell she’s mesmerized. It’s the same for her father; he’s completely smitten, if the expression he wears is anything to go by. You squeeze his arm again. Viktor blinks, then whispers a ‘thank you’ over Robin’s little knit-capped head.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass with your trio engulfed in each other, but you snap out of the haze when your eye catches two heads in the door’s window. With a weak grin you turn to Viktor and warn him, “Love, your time might be up. I think there’s an aunt and uncle chomping at the bit to see your daughter.” An impressive scowl immediately spreads across Viktor’s features, though he’s careful to hide the expression from his little girl. His gaze follows your line of sight to find the bobbing heads. The scowl deepens for a millisecond before Viktor’s face cracks into a smile at the ridiculous sight of two esteemed councilpersons anxiously wavering at the door. He gestures them in with a tilt of his head; Jayce and Mel hurry in with hushed breaths at once.

The doctors and nurses dismiss themselves to give the family a chance to be alone. Jayce attempts to reach for your daughter, but Viktor only permits the others to perceive her at a safe distance. He perches on the side of your hospital bed, completely engrossed in this tiny human, and you think that maybe — just maybe, despite the conflicts raging on beyond the hospital walls — that the world will turn out alright. 

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗏𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏. (𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 + 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗁)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗒 𝗏𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗎𝗁, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝗈𝗒𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆. }

viktor licht is a creepy perv who’d hack your computer to look through your camera on some weirdo shit, like how they be talking bout the fbi person watching you through the phone, yea that’s him.

he hacks all your devices but he loves having access to your computer because it gives him a wide range of visibility to you. and it’s nothing like when you masturbate on your phone, your legs going over the arms of your chair giving him the perfectly full view of your beautiful pussy.

the dark brown outside and strawberry pink inside taking over his thoughts as a drop of your cream was dragged up to your clit with your choice of the night: fingers, vibrator, or a dildo, ogling you and the split screen of the porn you were watching but mostly you as you stimulate yourself.

hearing the wet ‘schlick-ing�� sounds coming from the heaven between your thighs, he pulls out his brown pussy pocket having it on deck, he began fucking into it at the same pace as you, edging himself to keep from cumming prematurely.

he watched your white cream decorate the chair, slick messy between your thighs, he came right after you, as you force your shaking legs to keep open. more of your cream pooling into the chair, a low moan withdrawing from your two tone lips, your mouth in an open pout as your whole body trembled as if you’re in a room of ice.

his cum filled the false pussy, groaning as he pulled out his still throbbing dick leaving a spurt of the watery fluid on the clit of the toy, imagining it was you he bit his lip as a stream of his cum expels from his tip.

・❥・

he comes out of his room the next morning entering the working space to find you sitting with everyone, talking and laughing lightly. his eyes never parting from your frame, reminiscing the events of last night trying not to get hard again as he greets everyone, watching you smile at him and nod in acknowledgment before going back to your conversation.

he watches you talk animatedly with your hands daydreaming about what they could do to him. he goes to sit down feeling his dick pulse, far from you but enough to have a clear uninterrupted view, watching subtly his fist resting underneath his chin, as he wondered what you were gonna do with your pretty pussy tonight.

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[somedaylazysomeday]

Noisy - Part Three

Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie

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---

The knock on your door was a surprise. 

Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.

Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours. 

But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week. 

That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.

He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep. 

Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door. 

Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?” 

He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.” 

You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?” 

Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-” 

A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!” 

He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.” 

You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.” 

Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”

“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.” 

Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.” 

A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.” 

He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.” 

“That will take some getting used to,” you teased. 

“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”

You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.” 

“Never,” he denied instantly. 

That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet. 

“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly. 

“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”

“Can we sleep together?”

The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.” 

“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment. 

“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.” 

Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective. 

The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading. 

The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there. 

Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around. 

You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting. 

Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?” 

“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.” 

Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.” 

He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged. 

You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”

“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries. 

“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”

Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.” 

“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect. 

“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?” 

The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.” 

“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”

That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful. 

Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”

Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?” 

You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.” 

“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted. 

“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased. 

The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you." 

You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.” 

Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.” 

The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours. 

The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them. 

Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting. 

“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?” 

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away. 

“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?” 

“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”

He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest. 

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire. 

Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”

“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head. 

“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”

Viktor’s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…

Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.

The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you. 

Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.” 

When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind. 

But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin. 

You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”

Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.” 

It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”

“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration. 

Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…

This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches. 

“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.” 

Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?” 

He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”

“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”

“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.” 

“Oh, good.” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”

“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.” 

“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”

“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”

With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise. 

For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point. 

“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested. 

A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”

“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”

“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”

“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?” 

“Only that you’re not already inside of me.” 

The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest. 

So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations. 

Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak. 

When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade. 

When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”

He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”

Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles. 

Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away. 

“Viktor-”

He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”

He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?” 

“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.” 

Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was. 

Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper. 

When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.

For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away. 

And his. 

Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.

“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.” 

It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?” 

“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.” 

An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.” 

“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.” 

“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped. 

Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…

“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”

You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself. 

He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal. 

The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you. 

You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face. 

You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him. 

His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.” 

You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm. 

“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands. 

You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”

“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…

His eyes widened. “Are you-?”

Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.

Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled. 

When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse. 

“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable. 

“It was pretty good,” you agreed. 

A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?” 

“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice. 

You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?” 

Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.” 

You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.

---

Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!

[nickeverdeen]

Hi, I'm Sarah O'Brien, and I was wondering if I could have a TUA romantic matchup if you're still open to it? I love your matchups!

Appearance: I am a female; my pronouns are she/her; I am 20 years old; I have short brown with blonde highlights hair, dark blue eyes with purple glasses that I need to see long distance, my height is 5'1, I have an hourglass despite my short height with strong claves muscles, I have freckles on my hands, arms and legs, I have veiny hands from typing in my computer for years, I have a small button nose, my face shape is round/oval, with a slender but strong jawline and very feminine features like full lips, soft cheekbones and I love feminine and curly styles and I love my rose quartz bracelet which is always on my right wrist.

Personality: I am a kind-hearted person. I always see the good in people and I am an optimistic person, but also, I am stubborn and doesn't like told what to do, but it's mostly because I am an independent person and hates being treated like a baby. I have autism and anxiety when it comes to new things or situations, but I am a loyal and dependable person, and I like to be nice to everyone, but I am not afraid to call out that person if they are being mean to me. I am a gentle and sensitive person and hates being misunderstood a lot especially when it comes to speaking to people. Hobbies: Singing, dancing, horse riding, acting, writing and typing.

MBTI Type: INFJ

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Enneagram Type: 2w1 [The Companion]

Big Three: Sagittarius Sun, Cancer Moon and Aquarius Moon

Thank you for your time and hope that you have a good day!

PS: Loving your name

———————

Your TUA match is…

Viktor Hargreeves

Viktor would appreciate your gentle nature and would find comfort in the quiet moments you share

Whether you’re reading side by side or just enjoying the silence, it would help both of you recharge

Both of you are sensitive souls who have often felt misunderstood

Viktor would appreciate that you’re someone who takes the time to listen and understand him, and he would offer you the same care and empathy in return

Viktor would support your hobbies, like singing and acting, and would love to hear you perform

He might even be inspired to pick up his violin and play alongside you

Given that you both struggle with anxiety in unfamiliar situations, you would lean on each other for support. Viktor would be patient and understanding, helping you face new experiences with a little more confidence

Your optimistic nature would be grounding for Viktor, who’s faced a lot of internal struggles

He’d find your calm demeanor soothing when his emotions are overwhelming

You’d both enjoy meaningful conversations about life, emotions, and personal growth

Viktor would find your perspective enlightening and would appreciate having someone who truly listens

You’d share a love for creative expression, with Viktor through his music and you through your dancing, acting, and writing

You’d inspire each other to explore new forms of artistic expression

As someone who sees the good in others, you’d help Viktor see the good in himself, reminding him of his strength and worth

He, in turn, would remind you to set boundaries and prioritize your own needs sometimes

Viktor would respect your stubborn and independent nature

He’d understand your need for autonomy, and while you might butt heads occasionally, it would ultimately lead to a stronger mutual understanding

Viktor would help you face your anxiety about new things, taking small steps with you and sharing experiences at a pace that feels manageable

While Viktor might not be an experienced rider, he’d be willing to try horseback riding with you just to share in your joy

It could become a special activity for you both

Viktor would be there for you when you feel misunderstood or anxious, offering gentle words of reassurance and understanding hugs

He’d appreciate your rose quartz bracelet and see it as a sign of your gentle, loving nature

He might even get you small, thoughtful gifts that complement it, like a necklace or earrings

Your writing could inspire Viktor to express his own feelings more openly, and he might even compose music based on some of your stories or poems

Your encouragement would help Viktor become more confident in expressing himself, knowing that you’ll always support him no matter what

As someone who values kindness, you’d inspire Viktor to be more open in showing compassion to others

You’d likely volunteer together or find small ways to spread kindness daily

While you’d enjoy exploring new things together, you’d both prefer activities that are low-key and meaningful rather than overly intense or crowded

Viktor would love to play his violin while you sing, creating beautiful duets together

Music would be a shared language that connects you both on a deeper level

You’d help Viktor see the strength in his gentleness and sensitivity, while he’d encourage you to embrace your independence and speak up for yourself more

You’d both find a safe space in each other to be completely open and vulnerable

Viktor would deeply value the bond you share, with your compassionate and patient nature providing him the support and comfort he’s always needed

Together, you’d create a relationship built on understanding, creativity, and mutual growth

———————

Tag List: @callsignwidow