#fic art collab | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astudyincontrasts · 2 years

Text

Incubus!Victor x Fem!Reader NSFW

@uwuboowoo wished for Incubus!Viktor drabble and how was my monster loving ass to say no? Featuring a surprise treat artwork collab by my beloved queen of Viktor art @arcanescribbles 🖤 Full glorious art work here!

Thematic horror, slight initial dub con, over stim, breeding kink, mindbreak themes, monster fuckin.

⊱ ───── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

There was a creepy scent to old houses that you hated. Like the ages of dust and previous lives had built up in the walls and floorboards like layers of varnish, a must of creeping damp and mice living in the plasterwork, of old burnt dinners and long since extinguished candle wicks. A scent no amount of perfumes or cleaning agents or open windows could ever truly dissipate.

And this house was old, according the the landlord it also hadn’t been occupied in years. Said he couldn’t keep a tenant in it. They all kept breaking their leases, some without a word, just up and vanishing and he wouldn’t realize they were gone until the rent checks stopped arriving. Some had left lots of stuff behind. He showed it to you, piled haphazardly in the dank basement, told you to go ahead and ransack it for whatever you might want, he didn’t care. Just happy to have the place inhabited again and bringing in cash.

It certainly wasn’t your first choice of living arrangements. Nor your second, third or fourth. But you were desperate for a place of your own, something you could afford without the necessary annoyance of roommates to help pay the rent. This place came cheap as dirt and it was big. Spacious enough for a family and instead all yours. Besides, it had beautiful bones. Victorian embellishments setting it apart from all the art nouveau of the latest architecture. And you could imagine it with a bit of elbow grease; cleaned up and undingied. Lace curtains at the open windows in summer and a crackling fire in the maw of the living room fireplace in the depths of winter.

The keys were heavy, intricate iron things in your hands. Skeleton keys, the landlord explained. Said he’d long ago lost the proper pair to just the front door - if he ever had them. Couldn’t recall anymore.

You’d known of the house since you were a kid. It was that house. The one every town seemed to have, looming dark and just eerie enough to have garnered its share of local legend in the form of absurd urban fairytales.

The one that stuck out the most was that the place had been owned once by a young man, a scientist of some renown. Not happy just to dabble in the sciences he’d turned to the arcane, to dangerous dark magics beyond the scope of human comprehension. It had killed him in that house. Obliterated by one of his own experiments. And ever since then the place had been haunted, had become some kind of portal for the dark things he’d been trying to unlock. It was why no one would stay there for very long and eventually why no one stayed there at all.

Until you.

It felt a little bold, a little exciting and headstrong to be the one taking up residence in the ‘haunted’ house. Weren’t you edgy and brave? That’s what you kept telling yourself as you set up house, brushed away the cobwebs and layers of thick dust. Swept up the floors and unpacked. Kept repeating it to yourself as night began to gather and the already dark corners deepened, the floorboards sighing softly underfoot and pipes rattling like bars of a cage when you ran all the taps at once to clean out the stagnant water before your well-earned evening ablutions.

But that musty old scent still clung to everything. Pervasive but not terribly unpleasant if you were honest; like an old bookshop full of mouldering texts and ancient leather-bound tomes.

The old clawfoot tub was enormous. Let you sink right up to your nose in frothy bubbles and hot, steaming water. So what if those demonic looking claw feet were oddly off-putting? Just a little more upsetting in some way that you couldn’t put your finger on than a normal porcelain tub foot. Black and iron and just something about them... Never mind. The bath felt lovely after all that dusty, dirty work. Knotted muscles unwinding until you felt like warm jelly by the time you climbed out and toweled off. Treated yourself to the luxury of a short, black slip nightdress; felt indulgent indeed to have nothing between skin and soft silk.

The bed was old and came with the house, but the mattress new, the single splurge you’d allowed yourself thus far. Large and soft and fit for a queen. You fell into it blissfully and after a moment’s internal debate blew out the votive candle you’d left on the nightstand. No electric set up in here yet. You were too old for a nightlight and it wouldn’t do to burn your new home to the ground in your sleep.

Regretted it as soon as the light was extinguished, however.

The dark came rushing in like a tidal wave, oppressive and heavy. Pitch black until eyes adjusted and the sheer of old moth-eaten drapes allowed the night outside to illuminate the black with deep hues of dusky blue, moonlight silver where it managed to eek through and skim a surface here or there. You lay there in the silence until it felt deafening. Struggling for sleep in spite of your fatigue and the recent relaxation of the bath, fighting the urge to get up and light not only that candle by the bed but all the others you’d scattered around the room in little clusters atop dresser and bureau and desk.

The house sighed. Creaked. Settled. Swore you could hear soft footsteps if you just listened hard enough. Bare feet slowly walking the halls. Good way to drive yourself crazy in an old home, listening so hard to the silence you started hearing things that weren’t there.

And then there was a sigh much closer.

You stiffened under the sheets, eyes widening slowly in the gloom. It sounded like it had come from directly under the bed. No. Not possible. And then there it was again, only... only this time it was a soft hissing. Like escaping breath or slow steam leaking from a pipe. Tink tink tink tink. Attention riveted upon the foot of the bed and the old iron scrollwork of the bedframe.

And the dark, long fingers curling one by one over the intricate metalwork, black clawed nails tapping in soft succession as they came creeping, climbing.

Voice failed you, scream lodged silently in a thick lump in your throat as you watched a shadow rise, pool, puddle and spread up over the edge of the foot of the bed to spill slow and black across the sheets. Limbs failed you, frozen rictus unable to grant your fervent desire for them to propel you up and out of bed and out the house and down the street.

Out of that spilling, smoke like spread of shadow two brilliant eyes opened like golden sparks, spitfire and luminous, like some sickly beautiful tapetum lucidum of a large predator, only this wasn’t just a reflective shine, oh no. These were lit from within, gleaming gold with pupils blown.

Your entire body jerked as all the candles in the room lit themselves at once in a quiet roar of flame. And there, climbing slowly up into your bed was the spilling sprawl of a long limbed creature shaped like a man... a young man. Face sharp angled and the sneered smile of his mouth a shape of terrible beauty. Skin the color of grey bruised blue that deepened and flushed to near plum in places. Long limbed and stark naked, save for the swirling cling of dark shadow that billowed away like campfire smoke only to gather again, washing back off and over him in loose licking wisps.

Up he climbed, clawed hands fisting in the bedsheets, slowly drawing them down off you, and to your horror... not just two hands, but three. Two perfect leanly corded arms and then a horrific third that seemed to climb from his back, twisted and gnarled and black and eager as it grasped at your ankle, texture like a tree branch but terrifyingly warm. Any urge to kick it off you was squashed by those other two impossibly long fingered hands as they closed upon your knees, pushed them spread to accommodate his slow upward climb and let that grip slide inexorably slow up your thighs.

The entire nightmare came spilling to a halt just there, hovered between the splay of legs he’d made, the terrifying beauty of that face lowering ever so slightly as luminous eyes narrowed with a deep, slow inhalation.

“Aaaahhh.” His voice came in hissing layers, soft echoes forwards and back in a susurrus that somehow managed to align in the center before parting again, a maddening soft play that sunk loving fangs in the tender wet give of your brain, sweet venom spreading like heat, eclipsing panic with something that made your eyes want to roll back in your head, made the small of your back burn to arch and nipples stiffen against the thin black silk of your nightdress.

“I’m so hungry....” The shape of that exquisitely beguiling horror of a mouth spread, smiled, teeth white and sharp in the display of that half-tilt smirking pleasure. So hungry so hungry so hungry... it reverberated in your skull in that hissed sibilance. Something snapped internally.

“Please don’t eat me.” Voice squeaked out of you, soft and cracked and higher pitched than you’d ever heard yourself.

“Eat you?” It’s - his - head canted, lovely mess of dark hair shifting, spilling across his forehead. “Yesss.... I could eat you.”

Face fell, buried itself in the silk covering the apex of your thighs and again came that deep inhalation, this one followed by a nearly purring groan of bliss before those brilliant eyes lifted to gaze up at you from under the thick of dark brows. Every fibre of you tensed at the light pressure of that face shoved against that most intimate hollow.

“So fresh... Its been so long since I’ve been fed. And you. Succulent. But not quite ready yet... not ripe. Sooooooon though. Very soon. Eat you first, yes.”

Thighs were trembling under his grasp as you watched the black of his tongue lick out and wet his lower lip.

“Please. Please no.” It was barely a gasp of a breath, fists tight in the sheet under you, still unable to force limbs to any kind of motion, the whole of you a shivering wreck. Why did you have to pretend to be brave? Why would you come live in the house everyone knew was cursed? Stupid girl. Stupid, dead little girl.

His face turned, eyed the expanse of one smooth thigh before him and he dipped his head, dragged the wet lick of his tongue over tender flesh before pausing to glance up at you again. Dark brows lifted and that smile spread once more.

“No?” No no no? It bounced off the inside of your head like echoes in a cavern, “But you are so sweet. Juicy. And no one’s ever complained while I ate them...”

That horrifying third arm released your ankle, desiccated dry touch slipping away tenderly to rise and catch the hem of your slip and drag it up over your navel, leaving entire lower half vulnerably bare to the famished golden glow of those eyes and that eagerly opening maw. Sharp clawed fingers splayed over the soft of inner thighs, pressed the spread of them even further as you finally, finally began to squirm, to try to escape, scuttle backward against the pillows and out of the bed.

He caught you easily and hauled you back, lifted your backside up under the scooping span of impossibly long fingered hands.

“Please....Please!!!” Voice was shrill, pleading, heart a terrified hammer you could feel straight through to your spine. Convinced any second now that mouth would split that unsettlingly gorgeous face in twain and all those jagged teeth would sink into your most vulnerable flesh and begin to tear you into bite sized hunks of still living meat.

Instead came the slow, sinuous roiling lick of that black tongue. Slicking wet and smooth as oiled silk through the tender folds of your pussy; a lingering, savoring slow drag from stem to stern, coiling a circle around your clit before withdrawing. Leaving you breathless, unconsciously lifting toward its touch as it vanished.

The creature rocked its head back, the gloriously knifepoint angles of that jaw upthrust as he moaned long and low at the taste of you. Head lowering again slowly, the illumination of those hypnotic eyes doubled, fire stoked.

“Ahn, moje malá broskvička...” One finger slowly stroked along the part of your pussy, so careful of that sharp nail, letting its point drag along ticklishly. “Come to save me from starving. Such sweetness. Let me eat you up and keep you, lovely little peach.”

You were gulping, gasping. Confused and more than anything, more than all the blinding fear and irrational panic, you were inexplicably aroused. Skin singing soft heat, a luscious effervescent flutter winding lazily in the pit of your stomach, begging more of that tongue, of the touch of cool hands that left fire in their wake, mind numbing, mouth filling want like you’d never known.

It made no sense. You ought to have been repulsed, horrified. Instead you were... craving? Wriggling in his grasp instead of struggling. It had that knowing smirk back on that exquisite mouth as he dipped back down, licking, laving, soft and languorous as the impossible length of his tongue slid through folds and caressed clit, over and over and over again in endless untiring patterns until you were keening. Face turned to the side and arm thrown over your eyes, cunt on fire for him, the taut knots coiling and doubling in shuddering ache within begging to be released.

He blew softly on your clit and you convulsed, earning a soft peel of delighted laughter from him. And then that mouth closed on the pulse running through that hypersensitive little bundle of nerves and sucked. Sucked as the tip of his tongue curled over and around it and oh, you came undone.

Sharp nails dug gently into the grasp of your lifted buttocks as you bucked and thrashed and whined release so intense you felt it in your bones. White hot ecstasy fizzing hot supernova collapse before it shattered outward, spangling searing little points of spitfire stars across the black of vision, a trillion little points of tingling light and sweet agony relief spattered like celestial freckles over skin and nerve and bone.

Swore you heard him moaning softly along with you as you came, like he felt it. Like it was his own release.

You went limp, panting, shivers slowing gradually. And thought perhaps he’d lower you back onto the bed. He did not. Instead he sat back on haunches and lifted you further, your knees and thighs draped over broad shoulders, his arms circling your waist to keep your lower half cradled up against him.

In he delved again. Mercifully avoiding the slow subsiding throb of your clit and instead licking at the still convulsing flutter of your entrance. Tongue pushed, pressed, dipped within and a sharp gasp caught like a stone in your throat as it slid in. And then more. Further. Thicker. In and in and coiling, curling the entire time. A constant mind-blanking delicious roll against climax-soaked walls.

On the bed your hands shifted, stretched, found his knees and grabbed a sharp grip, digging your own short, blunt nails in hard. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing in your whole life. Swore you could feel that tongue from tips of toes to behind your navel as it slid roiling slow twists within, licking parts of you no one had ever tasted, as hot and slick and thick as a snake. Had your head thrown back and mouth open like your heart would come tumbling out of it onto the bedsheets for him to scoop up and devour.

And once he found that perfect spot within? Oh. Hard thrusting slow press licks unrelenting, until your toes curled so hard you could feel your calves begin to sear with the promise of a crushing cramp of muscles, until you were thrashing again, only held together buy the embrace of his arms wound round your hips, one hand slid down to drag the gentle scrape of long nails over the tender round of a half uncovered breast as his tongue lapped a second, harder orgasm out of you.

This one mind shattering. Deep, wringing waves crashing through you, against you, over you. Left you gulping, whimpering between airless gasps, every ounce of you gone perfectly rigid and quivering before you broke. Eyes rolled back so hard you were certain you’d gone blind. Sublime, succulent release as you unwound slow, waves eased to soft lapping, the sucking slide of the tide going back out as he let you slip down onto the bed. Came to lay between your thighs, head pillowed upon one. Kissing lightly at your swollen, aching clit. Each little brush of his lips convulsing your stomach gently.

You lay sucking breath in little shivers, fingertips gone numb, mind a glorious blank struggling against the odds to try to understand what was happening, who and what he was.

“Delicious one.” He was murmuring, purring thick voiced praise as if he was as undone as yourself. Delicate, almost loving little kisses to that overstimulated, overwrought bundle of nerves. It hurt, it burned, wonderful agony you sighed little whimpers against. “Do not run away, delicious one. I will not hurt you. I could eat you always... stay. Malá broskvička let me fill you up. I’ve waited years for you. Decades. Starving.”

One little lap of the tip of his tongue and you moaned wantonly with a single full body convulsion that had him lift his head to gaze up the length of you with a wicked smile. He shifted to press another kiss and you begged him to stop with a mumbled incoherence, tears gathering to streak from the outer edges of your eyes.

“My pretty thing. Don’t be afraid.” That sibilant echoing accented voice. Interspersed with a language both familiar and unknown. Another kiss, this one softly sucking. You arched, strained, small of your back fit to break as a third release rolled over you in almost painful little burst of bliss. So much, too much. He just wouldn’t stop and for some reason you could not find it in yourself to beg him to. As if you’d let him keep this up until you were reduced to little more than a jibbering mess of eager wet jelly, a hollow shell of yourself.

Lungs sucked air and you forced the train of thought down the tracks, set shoulder to it and shoved while wheels slipped and slid and tried for traction.

“Come... here...” Voice a husk, wrung out and hoarse, softly cracking at the end of each word. He obeyed, left off his next planned torment, pad of a finger just hovering over your abused clitoris, and climbed.

Came to hover over you on all fours, and just out of focus you could see the thick, heavy hang of his hard cock between lean thighs. Larger than any you’d had the like of in your admittedly limited experience. Still, you struggled to tear eyes off it and up to those pretty amber orbs gazing down at you in subtle amusement.

It took such effort to lift hands. Once you got them off the bed though it was as if a sticky mire had released. Free to flex and feel, sensation returning in tingling slowness. You reached to trace the fine cut of his jaw slowly. Watched those eyes slant near shut. Let hands card through the sticky smoke strange spill of dark hair and down the elegant line of his neck. Over shoulders and down arms, along chest. Pausing at the strange cut of black scars in arcane shapes, shadows against the bruised grey blue of skin that felt simultaneously warm and chill to the touch. Like it lived between worlds.

One hand rose to trace features as he held still for it, watching you curiously as you traced the purple shadows under bright eyes, the impossible sharp of cheekbones and then the strange sweet of his mouth. Let you smudge his lips, opened to the pry of your fingers and sucked soft on fingertips that went seeking sharp canines on every ivory.

“What are you?” It came out more marveled than you meant it to and he preened visibly, settling down half over you, all three hands still busy, softly stroking lingering caresses that made you struggle to maintain coherence. they tugged at the thin straps of the shift you wore, slid along arms and ribs and cupped at breasts, tweaked lightly at a nipple through slippery fabric. Sometimes felt like there were more even than three as you fought to stay cogent.

“Once as you are. Now?”

He sighed and lowered himself slowly. Press of face to your throat, bite of sharp teeth along jaw and lick of a tongue against your lower lip. Every inch of him a murder of gathered crows, soft wingbeats close in whispers against skin and black as pitch.

“Now... hunger. Want and craving. From barely alive to starving. Until you. Please. I want to eat. Oh little peach, let me. Are you better? So warm and soft my pretty girl. Could eat you forever.”

While you struggled against the urge to spread thighs again and plead he go right ahead, you dug nails into the strange elastic give of his skin. Like digging into smoke and viscera.

“Name...name yourself.” You huffed out, straining toward his mouth. He smiled sweet as any devil and licked over your lips in a wet line before sucking tenderly at your lower lip until the plush of it was swollen softly.

“Viktor, once. I remember Viktor.”

You latched to it, grazed nails down the lean of his throat over the sharp rise of his adams apple and down to collarbone, watched him slant eyes and stretch his throat for your attentions. Lifted head off the pillows to lick at his collarbone and felt him cradle up the back of your head. Claws carding through the skeins of your hair and along scalp.

And then you wrapped arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

He tasted of incense and cedar. Rosemary tang and the succulent bittersweet of late summer strawberry. Like dragging your tongue along a high tensile power line. Scent of him both petrichor and beeswax. Heady, improbable things that had you reeling while he gathered you closer. Bent to kiss you with an infinite softness that belied the taste of yourself on his mouth and the way he melted into you. One hand found your cunt again and spread folds in a slippery caress, opened you vulnerable like soaked petals before he stroked at your clit again, picked up a little caress to the swollen, puffy throb of it that broke your hold on his mouth as you instantly lapsed into another little crumbling, shuddering orgasm, too abused and overwrought to have any resistance left.

The blade of his nose pressed to your cheekbone as you came again for him, felt the coursing wet starting to drip between the cheeks of your ass and knew full well the bed beneath you was ruined. So much for those new sheets and mattress.

“You smell like summertime. Taste of sunshine. I’ve been in the dark so long.” So long so long so long. He was nuzzling at your throat, licking along your cheek where desperate tears had spilled with that last release. One spidery hand splayed over the soft of your stomach. “Sweet peach. Let me fill you?”

And your shattered little reptile hindbrain simply nodded heady agreement as you slid hands down between you both and found his cock. Heavy, hard. Leaking nearly as badly as yourself. It was him this time who caught breath and sighed as you stroked him, grasp trembling weakly as fingers slid along veined girth.

He buried his face between breasts before nuzzling at the slippery black silk still mostly draped over them. Licked at the fabric over the stiff upward press of a nipple, bit gently over it, the soft silk ticklish as it soaked through before he’d managed to drag it aside, moaning quietly to himself as he sucked slow, thrusting into your hand and drooling precum along one bared thigh.

When he’d had enough, he released the soft torment of that now gently burning little stiff bud and lifted you, turned you on hands and knees as he took you slow in spite of his dripping ache and your eagerness.

That desiccated third hand found a hard grip on your hip as he fitted himself to you and eased in. The hard ridge of the head of his cock a gripping spread that had you pushing back hard, eyelids flickering heavy as he sank in, mumbled half coherent praise of how well you took him. So much. He rocked against you, a gradual give and take until he was deep as either of you could go and you were worming against him, listening to his ragged breath as he bit at the nape of your neck, your ear, burned slow kisses across the curve of a cheek.

One hand came up to wrap spidery long fingers over the slope of your shoulder, the edge of a finger dragging against the catch of your lower lip as he began to move. Press of his cheek to your temple as he kept your face turned toward him, wanting to watch you come undone with him buried inside you. And if you thought what he could do with his tongue was unspeakably sublime...

For all his obvious need he was shockingly tender. Hips a delicious rhythmic rocking that had you pitching gluttonous little moans each time he hit up against your backside, made you feel little more than a hollow vessel that’d just been waiting this whole lifetime for him to fill you.

Drunk or drugged with him, and miles beyond caring. Nothing had ever felt so good, the nirvanic bliss eating away at your insides, that throbbing ache rebuilding over and over again each time you thought there was no way he’d drag one more orgasm out of you. You were on fire, itch more intense the more he scratched it for you, and your body ready to give out with all of it. Thighs and the brace of arms you were holding yourself up with both shook weakly. Sweat dribbling down between breasts and the pinch between shoulder blades. You felt him lick a bead of it off your temple as he murmured soft nothings.

“Sweet peach, so warm. Does that feel good? You take me so deep, little one... look at you shiver. Such a good girl to come to me like this, to feed me so well. On your knees for me, my delicious one, such noises you make. Do you like how I make you feel? Do you want me to be rougher?”

Sharp nails bit lightly into your all too human flesh and had you whining as he picked up his pace a bit, sweet friction doubling as your walls squeezed around him in fluttered, staccato grasps, stomach taut as a drum and breath coming in little gasping moans so embarrassingly wanton you wished to die.

Only the fact that he too was rapidly coming undone and making many unrestrained sounds of delight of his own that were starting to drown yours out saved you. One hand slid under you, nails grazing at your belly, across your navel.

“Will you swell for me, malá broskvička ? Let me make this sweet belly round and soft with little ones. You are so perfect for it, almost ripe. A few more days. I can smell how badly you want to be bred, pretty one. I will give you all you wish. Say you’ll stay. Please, stay.”

“Yh...yes. Yes...” Like you had the capacity to say anything else when it felt like you’d never have the willpower to climb back out of this bed again?

When he came inside you it nearly sent you into a spiral, your arms giving way, cheek smashed to the bed, one of his hands braced on the back of your head as he snarled softly over you like a large cat over a kill, filling you indeed, until it dripped out and ran down your thighs, until your stomach felt deliciously, softly, slightly distended. Whatever dark thing about him that had you so fuck-dumb absolutely tripled with his seed inside you, spinning hot little tendrils within that wrapped around the senses, made every little sensation feel ten times as strong.

He twitched within you obscenely as he came, and your walls milked at him in fits of slow squeezes as you rode out the slowest, longest release of your life, shuddering with strangled mewls as he doubled over you, scooped you up to cradle you back against him as he sat up, face shoved in the spill of your hair while he rasped out unintelligible worship with cool breath.

“Mine own. Ahn, I cannot live if you leave me. I will adore you, malá broskvička, make you my treasure.”

Treasure treasure treasure. It echoed softly in your ears. And then, just as suddenly as they had lit, all the candles extinguished in one guttered whoosh, room plunged back to darkness as you pitched forward against the pillows and soiled sheets, suddenly unsupported, the strong grasp of him vanished. No longer filled with the delicious stretch of his cock or caged in by that long limbed body. Just enough energy left to roll yourself over and watch wisps of shadowed smoke curl outward in the air and dissipate.

Consciousness found you the next morning groggy and exhausted, so tender that even the softest touch of your own fingers had you double up in hot agony. Not a dream, nor nightmare. You had little pink lines of scratch marks up one hip and over a shoulder and the sticky mess between your legs to prove it had all been terribly real. Well, not terrible. But certainly real. Quite clear now what had happened to all those other tenants.

Packing up and running as far and fast as you could seemed like an incredibly wise move. But you found, as you sat in yet another gently warm bath up to your chin, that you were not afraid. That instead you were craving, disappointed ever so slightly that you’d been used and left a sticky ruin without so much as a little cuddle or a bit of care for your tender state. Found yourself sliding a hand over the shape of your stomach throughout the day each time his words came hissing back to you softly. The house felt somehow warmer, too. More welcoming and less darkly menacing in its silent, looming way.

Besides, you could always change your mind. Why not stay one more night?

Part 2

#viktor #viktor x reader #viktor drabble #drabble request #viktor request #viktor arcane x reader #incubus viktor #monster viktor #viktor arcane #arcane ifc #viktor fic #art collab #ilu scribs #my sweet muse

2K notes · View notes