#viktor drabble | 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.

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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

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beef-bakery · 2 years

Text

The Doctor, the Boy, and the Books

Rating: little!Viktor drabble SFW - 1.2k Words

Summary: wittle babwee viktor learns how to read

Warnings: a small sentence about physics I stole from wikipedia that I was told to cite. So this is me saying that I stole it from Wikipedia. Thanks internet

Contrary to popular belief, Viktor wasn’t born smart. He had to work his way up just like everyone else. Books were a rarity in Zaun; the fine paper fitted to the printing presses was too expensive, so Zaunties like him used a shoddier imitation. Reused, in a way. Recycled hand-me-down paper from Topside, and remade into a coarser material.

And so, Viktor learned to read from street signs. Of course there were the volunteer Topsiders who offered teaching services along the Promenade, but it was simply too far for little Viktor to venture out on a day trip all alone, especially with his bad leg.

Oftentimes Viktor would find himself alone, staring out the window from his apartment’s second floor, his parents gone to work. He would gaze at the billboard across the street for hours, trying to decipher the shapes and scribbles he would come to learn were letters.

On special days, Viktor would allow himself a walk; not too far, of course, because he had to mind his leg, but at least two blocks over and back. Staring at signs became a pastime for Viktor, who traced the letters he could reach and wondered idly at the ones he couldn't.

One day, Viktor’s father came home with a letter sheet. “I got it on the way back from work from the volunteers,” he had said, presenting it proudly to his son. Touched, Viktor had poured over the paper, sounding out the letters and testing his memorization skills.

Eventually Viktor learned to read. It was a joyous occasion. He spent the day in his fridge, looking through the labeled items, proud that he could decipher what they meant.

Perhaps this would've been enough for any other child; to be able to read was a luxury. Only Viktor was hungry for knowledge, and the words, phrases, and paragraphs in his home became all too familiar.

By this time Viktor was slightly bigger, having grown half an inch since his mother had last measured him. He had proudly puffed his chest out, beaming wide enough to show off the gaps between his teeth.

Viktor wasn’t an idle child by any means, often tinkering with found items and taking apart anything he could find to learn how it functioned. But now that he knew how to read, Viktor found the urge to learn insatiable. Emboldened by his newfound height, Viktor decided to take a different route on his walk, instead heading farther West.

Walking farther down the poorly lit streets brought a sense of unease to Viktor. His excitement dimmed ever so slightly,replaced with worry. Forcing himself not to chicken out, Viktor continued on.

It was a door left ajar that caught Viktor’s attention. Light shining from the inside brought him to the door, his lame leg screaming for a break. Viktor pushed through the door, marveling at the room. It was well heated and bookshelves covered every wall imaginable. Viktor walked forward, wincing at the sound his cane made when it hit the hardwood floor.

How strange that such a lovely gem was hidden deep within the Lanes. Viktor almost didn't want to touch the books, but curiosity got the better of him, forcing him to pull one of the books out. It almost looked untouched; the pages weren't bent, and the hardback cover made a satisfying creak when he opened it. Viktor stood, staring open mouthed at the book. It wasn't missing any pages, so he didn’t have to deduce the ending based on only inference. It was almost heavenly.

Viktor looked around, book still in hand. He found an armchair in the corner and slowly eased himself into it. His leg thanked him and he let out a sigh of relief at finally sitting. He opened the book once more, turning to the first page.

Physics is the natural science that studies matter, its fundamental constituents, its motion and behavior through space and time, and the related entities of energy and force…

Viktor lost himself in the book, his mind whirling with the strange new concepts and ideas that the book presented. How odd! He had never known objects to vibrate, and yet they did. Not visible to the naked eye, but nonetheless, natural frequency was found in every object.

It was dark by the time Viktor peeled himself from the book. Viktor gulped, dreading the walk back home. He had a vague memory of the long walk to this place, and he knew it would take longer going back: his fear of the dark and the people who lurked in it always caused him to become overly cautious and slow down.

For a small moment, Viktor entertained the idea of staying overnight. This place was warm, well lit, and most of all, filled with books! He could stay there forever if only he didn't require nourishment to survive.

The sound of a doorknob turning caught Viktor’s attention, his head whipping to the side. The door slowly creaked open and Viktor found himself frozen. A skinny man walked through the door, his body hunched with what looked like exhaustion.

Viktor’s wide eyes watched as he closed the door behind himself, turning to lock it. The man turned back around, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he hung a lab coat on a rack. He turned back around, finally making eye contact with Viktor.

His eyebrows raised and his mouth fell open. He didn't move into any defensive position, or try to remove Viktor from the premises, only continued to watch him. Viktor imagined that he looked quite defenseless, almost docile. Viktor had always had an angelic look about him, innocence dancing through his eyes as he looked up at the adults around him - the only people that ever talked to him.

This innocent picture was bolstered by his current position; his cane leaned against the nearest bookshelf and his lame leg stretched out in front of him. The book in Viktor’s lap was well loved, pages marked with scraps of paper Viktor had found in the bin.

“Come to read?” the man asked, settling on the chair across from Viktor. Viktor nodded aimlessly, still in shock that he hadn't been kicked out yet.

“What’ve you got there?” Viktor lifted the book ever so slightly, revealing the cover to the man. “Ah, the Basics of Physics? A good read, that one.” Viktor found himself nodding in agreement, relaxing slightly. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Viktor, sir,” he said, shifting his leg ever so slightly as his uncomfortability from sitting so long in the same spot finally registered, now that his mind was no longer consumed with absorbing knowledge.

“How’d you find this place, Viktor?”

“I was on a walk.” The man hummed in agreement, leaning back and closing his eyes with a groan. Viktor watched him with wide eyes, not returning to the book. The man cracked an eye open.

“Don't stop because of me.” He waved a hand. “Go on, continue reading.”

Viktor returned to the book, allowing the world to vanish once more. Silence was comfortable between the two, and the joy that filled Viktor’s heart could not be dimmed by anything, and certainly not his mother’s scolding the next morning.

Taglist!

@shadow-pancake9 @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @ariaud

Join taglist here!

#hola! soy dora! can you spot the father figure?#little something while y’all wait for part twos/threes #hehe exam season 🤪#this would’ve been uploaded sooner but yk... exams #viktor #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor arcane fanfic #viktor fic #viktor drabble #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #drabble #my work #my fic

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multi-fandom-imagine · 16 days

Text

A/n: I love this!

•Viktor•

Viktor loved his little girls more than anything, when you first told him that you were pregnant he was over joyed. This was his chance at happiness again, and when he find out that you were pregnant with twins well Viktor nearly fainted from shock.

He wouldn't screw this up, he wouldn't because you meant the world to him, his little girls meant the world to him.

Picking up a few toys, Viktor heard a giggle. It was one of the twins. He knew he should bring her back to her crib, he couldn't imagine what was going through your mind if you found one of your children missing. "Čo tu robíte?"

Viktor couldn't help but speak Slavic to her, why he knew that she didn't understand him. Her and her twin sister seemed to enjoy when he spoke it.

Titling her head to the side, the little girl giggled waving her chubby arms in the air.

"Papo!"

Dropping the toy's, Viktor's eye went wide as he took a step towards her. "Vhat did you say?"

"Papo!Papo!Papo" The baby squealing over and over at her father as he lifted her in the air.

"Haha! My little angels firsts words!" Smiling, Viktor pressed his head against hers. "This will be our little secret."

•Zib•

Sleeping on the couch, Zib felt two of his children nuzzled into his chest as the third sat on the ground playing with his hats. Dorian was grateful how mellow his children were, they were so calm, sweet and he knew that he had you to thank for that.

One of his eyes peaking open he chuckled seeing the youngest looking up at him. "What's caught your attention bud?"

Chewing on Zib's hat, a giggle escaped the little boys lips as he crawled over to his father. "Daddy!"

Sitting up, Zib had to hold the other two children to his chest to make sure they didn't fall off. This was the first word that he had spoken, he couldn't believe that he was his son's first words. "Ha! You hear that?! I was his first words...come here buddy."

Now holding all three of his children, Zib held them close. "My three little ones." He muttered closing his eyes.

Watching him, you relaxed further into your chair. It was an adorable site, to see this side of your husband. "You're such a good father Dorian, I want you to know that."

Humming, Zib shook his head still holding the triplets. "Well if you say so then I gotta believe it."

•Rocky•

If there was one thing at Rocky loved more than anything than it had to be him playing the violin for you and his son. He'd often play for you when you were pregnant and now he'd play for his son.

Smiling, he took out the violin as his son watched eagerly. "Are you ready?"

The little boy nodded his head eagerly, nearly bouncing in the seat as he watched his father with excitement. "Y...ya....p..." wrinkling his nose the little boy listened to his father as he tried to speak. "Papa!"

The bow screeching across the strings, dropping the violin to the ground. Rocky instead lifted his son in the air giving him a spin as he let out a joyful laugh though it did not take long for you to slip out of the room rubbing your eyes. "What's going on?"

"He said his first word! I was his first word!" Rocky beamed.

Smiling, you held back a yawn as you walked over to them both. "Isn't that the cutest thing."

•Mordecai•

If someone would have told Mordecai that he would he married with a child he would have laughed in their faces, it seemed like a novel concept, it didn't feel real and yet here he was playing chess with you his wife as his daughter sat on his lap.

"Just because you are pregnant, it doesn't mean I will go easy on you." Mordecai teased.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes giving him a playful smile. No one saw this side to him, he may have been stoic, kept his emotions close but you knew the he loved you and your daughter, you knew that he'd love this child too.

Sitting in her father's lap, the toddler looked up at her father then to the board game of you both playing chess. Eyes going wide for a moment, she reached for one of the pieces beaming up at her father.

"Dada!"

About to take the piece away from her, Mordecai's eyes went wide as he froze. Your laughter echoing around him. "All that word paid off."

"You." Flustered, Mordecai avoided his gaze as he instead held his daughter close. "Thank you."

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vendetta-if · 2 months

Note

If Viktor was alive, how would he have reacted when Takashi told him Luka was dating Jackel? How would he have reacted upon meeting him? Would he have also treated Artyom about finally getting niblings off his own?

Viktor immediately locks in and goes into serious and scheming mode as soon as he hears Takashi spilling the tea about his lil bro 😂

He has so many questions that poor Takashi doesn’t know the answers to 😭How did Luka manage to hide this under his nose for so long? How long has this relationship been going? What can Takashi tell more about this Jackal guy?

The next few days, Viktor is busy trying to find out more about his brother’s supposed boyfriend (might even enlist Takashi’s help on it). He also tries to subtly prod Luka with seemingly innocent questions about relationship in an effort to get Luka to possibly slip (he doesn’t and he’s aware that Takashi has betrayed him and spilled the beans to his big bro; he should’ve known 💀).

As for when he finally meets Jackal in person (assuming Luka is not in the room). As always, Viktor is all friendly and charming, a huge smile on his face. But underneath all of those, Jackal can sense the dangerous edge and wariness radiating from him.

At first, Viktor strikes up an easy conversation, asking Jackal some personal—but sensible questions, which he gives the barest answers to. Just when he thinks that Viktor has finally ran out of questions, Viktor slings his arm on Jackal’s shoulder.

On the surface, the gesture looks like a friendly one between friends, but Jackal knows better and what Viktor says next just confirms his thoughts.

“I know Luka might look tough and cold on the outside, but surely, as you may already know, he’s got a sensitive and soft heart inside,” Viktor smiles coldly before continuing, “So… If you dare break his heart or hurt him in any other way… Believe me, there will be no where in this country where you’ll be safe. Got it?”

Jackal just nods stiffly. “I promise I won’t do that. I’d rather die than do anything that will hurt him,” he mutters.

Viktor leans back to give Jackal his personal space back, clapping Jackal’s back none too gently. “Good!” he grins, and this time, it looks more genuine. “So… When’s the wedding, huh?” He teases.

“W—What?!” Jackal sputters, face red. And fortunately for him, his saviour finally stepped out of the office.

Luka takes a quick glance at his boyfriend and then his brother, and instantly, he understands the gist of what just happened.

“Okay, Vitya, that’s enough of bullying him,” Luka sighs as he marches over to where his boyfriend and big brother are standing.

“Bullying?” Viktor gasps. “I would never! I was just about to ask him how many nephews and nieces you two are going to give me.”

Luka’s eyes bulge as he chokes on air from the surprise. Viktor can only laugh at both men’s reactions.

#asks #anon ask #char: viktor #char: jackal #char: luka #char: takashi #drabble #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta if #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games

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angelltheninth · 10 months

Note

Viktor from Arcane and the prompt 4: Wanna bet? In what ever way you wanna spin that.

I have a perfect way to spin that actually.

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Tags: fluff, teasing, co-workers, experimenting (the fun kind), kissing, blushing, competition

Word count: 0.5k

A/N: I don't care how long we need to wait for more Arcane but once it drops I can feel that I will no longer be sane.

4. Wanna bet?

"What you're suggesting is not possible." Viktor waved you off with a grin, his feet crossed one over the other, one arm thrown around the back of the chair while he cast you an amused look.

You threw a challenging, yet teasing smile at your lab partner, "And how to you know? Have you ever made someone pass out from kissing?"

"No, I've never needed to. A human's body will respond to the lack of air long before that happens. Its our defense mechanism. No matter how high ones lung compacity is there is always a limit one won't past." And just like that he threw your theory to the wind, dismissed, not given a second thought because Viktor absolutely hated to be wrong. But if you could prove it some how...

"Wanna bet?" You challenged him back, taking careful steps towards him before planting your hands on the desk behind him, "I bet you tap out before me."

In the back of his mind Viktor suspected this was a ploy of yours to get a kiss from him during work. But if it got you to shut up and be proven wrong then he is all for it. "That's an easy enough thing to figure out no? Take a seat."

On the chair? On the table? No, you took your seat in Viktor's lap, which was already enough to get his breath to hitch from the pressure of your thighs on him and your arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned in.

He coughed to compose himself, trying to cover up the blush on his face with no luck at all. You loved seeing him squirm. As you leaned in for the kiss you saw a tiny smirk cross his lips. He was cocky was he? Well so were you.

As scientist it was your job to see this experiment through to the end. It started with a soft press of your lips against his, adjusting to an angle and diving right in with your tongue, another challenge that Viktor took in stride, meeting you head on, or tongue on would be more accurate in this case.

Hands found their places too, yours slowly scratching the base of his skull with him humming into your mouth, and one of his on your cheek, the other running from your tailbone to between your shoulder blades and back again, keeping you shivering constantly.

For some reason he wasn't backing down, even when your own lungs started to burn, when you tightened your grip on him and started rolling your hips in hope to take your mind of the need for air. No luck. Viktor knew what you were up to and he was one step ahead, pushing you onto the desk and almost falling on top of you too, not once giving you time to breathe.

You started to get lightheaded, you needed air, but you also needed Viktor just as much. Sadly the need for air won and you found yourself missing his lips as soon as you pulled away. Both of your bodies felt like jelly as you melted onto the desk, Viktor on top of you, your chest having. "See? You couldn't hold out long enough."

"Neither could you. But I am feeling lightheaded enough not to get up from here." Lightheadedness was only part of it, the other part was you liking the position you were in, liking that you could wrap arms around Viktor's body and enjoy the closeness this experiment brought you.

#arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane imagines #arcane fanfic #viktor imagine #viktor fanfic #arcane x you #viktor x you #league of legends x reader #league of legends imagine #league of legends fanfic #league of legends x you #arcane fluff #viktor fluff #league of legends fluff #fluff drabble

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therabbitthatpostthings · 2 months

Text

Might fully write this as a whole story one day.

You come to Viktor with a serious inquiry:

“Do you know a doctor that can perform Hanahaki removal surgery?”

He was stunned at first. He didn’t even know you had feelings for someone but to ask for this?

“You know how risky that is, you could lose all love in your heart.” Viktor stated.

“Of course I do. That’s why I came to ask you. It’s been done, a successful removal. Sure the recovery period is long but I get to keep my memories with you guys. I’ll take the chance.” You were steadfast in your decision. This was the only way to rid yourself of this retched disease. You weren’t exactly happy about it either, the chance that you would lose all love for Viktor and Jace was high. However staying in love with someone until your heart breaks or you die is worse (of course you wouldn’t actually die though).

Viktor sighed, “Who is it, it you don’t mind me asking?”

You were almost too embarrassed to mention it, “Remember Sterling…”

Viktor sat up fully in his seat to really grasp the situation. Sterling was someone you both knew from your Academy days and he was a piece of work. A ‘Grade A’ jackass and flirt. It sucks that his looks matched his brains, being one of Piltover’s elites. He was destined to inherit his families company and live a life of luxury. And this, amalgamation of every stereotype rich boy, was the one causing you so much pain. Viktor could hardly believe it.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not proud of it either!” Your face flushed bright red. “It just…happened. We were talking and things got real for a second. I thought I saw a different side of him but it’s…ugh! It’s complicated Viktor!”

Still in disbelief, Viktor adjusted himself on the chair. He collected his thoughts before looking back up at you. “I will ask Professor Heimerdinger for help. Don’t worry, I’ll find the best doctor there is. You won’t lose a precious memories, I promise.”

“Thank you Vitya.” You smile. Viktor felt a small ache in his chest but ignored it. You said your goodbyes and Viktor started to draft his letter to the Professor. Your memories and friendship was on the line so he felt compelled to write as soon as possible.

Professor Heimerdinger reported back by the end of the day. He was deeply concerned with Viktor’s wellbeing. This disease was no joke! He had lost many a friend to the flower disease and Viktor was far too young to fall ill with it. Viktor stopped him in the middle of his speech as he explained the treatment was for you and not himself. He was very confused at first but agreed to contacting a very good doctor. Before Viktor leaves, the professor urges him to be careful and be kind to himself.

Viktor didn’t understand then. You met with the doctor and consulted with her many times. She was kind and truly understood what it meant to be afflicted. After the consultations, Viktor would be your shoulder to lean on. On the nights you were too sick, you would stay with him. Viktor’s apartment became your second home. Viktor was slowly starting to understand the Professor’s warning. He couldn’t think about that now, he needed to be here for you.

Around two weeks before your surgery you were walking to your scheduled visit when you saw him, Sterling. He was chatting with another girl when he said some choice words about you. He threw in a couple comments that you’d only get far in this world because you “suck up” to the HexTech guys. It didn’t just sting he thought of you this way, especially after this long but he dared to badmouth your two best friends as well. For once, your coughing stopped and you noticed a bud had landed in your hand. You took this to the doctor and she was intrigued. She examined it closely and came back with a smile on her face.

“Congratulations, you’re falling out of love.”

“What?!”

“Calm down, it’s only been reported in the last 60 years or so but there are cases of people falling out of love with their intended person. It was mostly reported in relationships that turned sour after years but yes, even crushes can die out.”

“Does this mean, I will lose all love in my heart?”

“Not necessarily, you’ll feel reluctant and wary but as for your friends and family, you will love them just the same. You may even fall in love again one day.”

You get somewhat relieved. The doctor continued, “About the buds in your lungs. You can have the stem cut but that runs the risk of the original surgery. Best I can do for you is give you some medicine for nausea, pain killers and recommend you take on less physical work. Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue our consultations with a therapist present so I can monitor the after effects.”

“Right…”

You left the consultation feeling lighter. Honestly seeing the doctor so excited over a bud, the proof that love dies, was amusing. The very thought of Sterling did fill your heart with a pit but one of disgust. Such an awful person who doesn’t know himself had the audacity to speak about you and your friends. The nerve!

You walked into the office and huffed into the seat next to Viktor. Without looking up from his notes, “You seem energetic today.”

“I’m not having the surgery.”

He almost fell out of his chair. Why would not have the surgery!? Have you fallen in love with Sterling?! Did he accept you?!

“I heard that jerk talking about me to another girl and he had the nerve to bring you and Jace into it! I don’t know it’s like- it’s like all my affection just died right then and there!” You explained what the doctor had said and how you would continue your rantings. Viktor felt a swell of pride in his chest. The fact that you were so annoyed on his behalf meant no matter what, your feelings would remain.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” he smiled.

“Honestly good riddance.” You scoffed “He doesn’t compare to you guys! You work so hard Vik, even when you were taking care of me!”

“I’d do it all again.” Viktor said. You sighed, finally relieved of your anger. You thanked him again for all he’s done and excused yourself to let him get back to work. Viktor waiting until you were out of the room to completely heave over the waste bin. It was filled with red stained petals.

How could he bring himself to tell you? Not now, not while you were free of this burden. He can wait it out, now that he was sure love dies.

#shitpost #shitposting #writing fanfics at 3am #cringe-#arcane #lol arcane #viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #short drabble #viktor the machine herald #viktor my beloved #hanahaki disease

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viktors-lab · 3 months

Text

Sweet Boy

#this is pjo inspired #more specifically the scenes between sally & percy and a bit of between sally and poseidon too #aemond x lucerys #drabble #lucemond #lucemond au #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #viktors lab

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intothemultifandom · 2 years

Text

you leave a first impression → sparrow academy [ben]

Warnings: Profanity

Imagine yourself having the powers of an Empath combined with the tracking abilities of Demetri Volturi [Twilight].

Ben || Number Two –– THE SCHEMER

⮕ Ben isn’t used to people staring at him the way your group does.

⮕ Is he used to star-struck admiration? Yes. Poorly concealed lust. Oh most definitely.

⮕ Fighting crime in the limelight for years had propelled the Sparrow Academy into celebrityhood overtime, to the point where it felt like they were more commodity than people most days.

⮕ With bus loads of fans gathering at their fence each day, and hoards of women and men throwing themselves at him for almost anything, all Ben had ever known was fan-crazed obsession and shallow affection.

⮕ So when he sees the mosaic of expressions that aren’t admiration or greed on your group, he’s already on alert:

⮕ The Big Guy and Stubble are wide-eyed at the back, almost slack jawed as the woman with the long coat stumbles back into them.

⮕ She’s quick to school her expression as she shuffles away, but Ben notes the way her hand trembles as her eyes rove over him in disbelief.

⮕ Their reactions has The Monster™ unfurling itself inside his stomach, but Ben ignores the sharp pain that follows in its wake as he turns to the smallest of your group.

⮕ Their faces are twisted with an expression he can’t quite decipher. It looks like grief, longing, and hope all mixed into one but the look is too fast and too fleeting for him to make sense of anything.

⮕ Short Pants, in particular, brings in his pointed finger into a clenched hand at his side.

⮕ Sundance, comparatively, looks the most at ease as he holds a hand against his chest with a dramatic flourish. It’s as though he’s already comfortable with what’s going on, comfortable with being in a room with them him, that Ben’s brow furrows.

⮕ In spite of his nonchalance and near-friendliness, he can’t help but think that Sundance’s smile could be bigger–all toothy or some sort of mischievous shit–and that the smile he’s wearing now is half-hearted at best.

⮕ Of course, it isn’t until he catches you hidden behind Sundance, eyes pinned to the floor that something that feels like desperation reverberates through him as he waits for you to meet his gaze.

⮕ The Monster™ pounds at his stomach lining, begging to be let out.

⮕By that point, Marcus and the rest of his siblings descend from the second floor, strategically mirroring your own formation as he addresses The Big Guy so Ben forces his attention elsewhere.

⮕ This shit can wait 'til after, he decides with a huff.

⮕ With seven on each side, the confrontation becomes an even standoff. And while it seems the whole situation might come to a peaceful resolution at first, Stubble and Jayme fall into an argument that inevitably kicks things into gear.

⮕ Ben, naturally, unleashes The Monster™.

⮕ Only, instead of attacking Sundance or Shortstack–being the two closest to him–you side-step into view, now meeting his gaze for the very first time.

⮕ To his shock? horror? disbelief? The Monster™ stills just before it can tear into your side, stopping only for a few seconds before gently (what?) caressing (the fuck?) your dirt-stained cheek.

⮕ From behind The Monster™, you stare at its tendrils and at him with a look unlike the others. It makes him feel bare and exposed, vulnerable in all the wrong ways, like he’s a live wire waiting to be put out. The way you look at him... Ben would only describe it as reverence.

⮕ Complete and utter reverence.

⮕ Eyes wet and mouth trembling, the sharp intake of breath you take as you look at him, really look at him, makes him think back to earlier and how he’d felt a flash of–

⮕ “–I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, the words slipping out before he can bite his tongue.

⮕ At his words, your expression ripples into something more bitter, something more than words Ben can even come up with and louder than your group as you press your lips into a thin, resigned, line:

⮕ “Too late,” it comes out soft, barely a whisper. But Ben winces as though you’d screeched into his ear.

⮕ Before he can do anything more, say anything more, you dart around his tendrils and brush a finger against his face.

⮕ All of a sudden, his limbs grow heavy with fatigue, The Monster™ retreats back into his skin with a harsh slam and the world tilts on its axis.

⮕ White-hot betrayal washes over him as he hits the floor, and as he begins to lose conscious, just on the precept of going under, Ben realises one thing about the sensation as it settles and aches, an open wound:

⮕ The feeling does not belong to him.

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itsjustbell · 10 months

Text

The Dive

Viktor x reader

Summary: It seems your feelings for your friend Viktor have grown into much more than you thought. When did this even happen?

This is literally just sappy drabble, just me gushing over Viktor. Too much time rewriting and editing--not nearly enough proofreading, but I'm trying to not focus on whether it's perfect or not. Hope it's at least comprehensible, haha. Enjoy <3

Love can be a lot of things. It can be a river, flowing constantly over and around obstacles, smoothing over hard edges, and even through stone with constant, gentle effort.

Love can be a fire. Growing from one glowing ember, with enough care and tenderness, to the roaring flame of a hearth. Strong enough to keep out the cold through dark winters and burning bright through even the most thunderous storms.

But this… This had crept up on you, much like how sleep crawls to the insomniac. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment that you fell, only noticing the floatiness of sleep once you’d already dived in headfirst. One moment you were fine, and the next you’d somehow found yourself opening eyes you didn’t even realize you had closed.

You’d known Viktor for a while now, enough to comfortably secure yourself a spot amongst the few he harbored as friends. This…fluttering feeling that threatened to choke you whenever he was around, like the butterflies in your stomach were trying desperately to fly out of your mouth in the form of some lovesick confession. Never before had you felt so strongly about someone. Never before had you craved someone. His mere presence alone seemed to soothe your anxiety ridden mine, while also somehow increasing it tenfold at the same time. Even when he was gone, he still managed to force his way into your thoughts. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were sick– And perhaps you were in a different sort of way.

Has he always looked that good? Had the sun always caressed his cheek like that? What would that same cheek feel like under your own hand? The amount of hours you had spent wondering how it felt to cradle his face in your hands and gaze into those striking amber eyes that seemingly glowed in the golden light of the evening, and to have them stare back— as if you were a star yourself? The thought alone was dizzying.

It wasn’t just that he looked like he was hand sculpted by the gods themselves. No, Viktor was more than just a pretty face. He was kind. Sure, he might’ve seemed like some self-righteous smart ass when you’d first met him, but under all that he was gentle. He was understanding. He made you feel seen. Talking to him felt so… easy.

Maybe it was on one of those late nights in the lab after a long day in your studio that you fell. Soft, easy conversations and eyes filled with mirth as you both exchanged wild stories and the kinds of secrets that only seem to come out when the lights dim and the stars are out.

You’d had four cups of coffee between the two of you. He was telling a story from his and Jayce’s academy days. One of the student galas towards the end of the year.

“--I’d never seen Jayce more…more, how do you call it? Ehh…”

“Wasted?” You offered. His eyes lit up.

“Yes, wasted!” He laughed, “He looked about ready to tip over– and he did, right into some poor girl.”

You shook your head as laughter bubbled out from your chest. “I think I heard about that on the tail end of the gossip chain.”

“Eh, I’m surprised you didn’t see it with how large the crowd was.”

“I didn’t go.”

He seemed surprised at this.

“I was too busy finishing up my final projects that year, I think.” You looked down into your lukewarm cup of coffee, now forgotten on the desk you’d been sitting on. “Wanted a perfect portfolio… plus I didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

When you’d looked back at him, there was something in his eyes that had made your skin buzz. If love – or whatever this is, is a fire, then surely what he’d said after were the first sparks.

“I’m sure that if I– If we, me and Jayce that is, had met you earlier you could’ve gone with us,”

Something about that slight fumbling of his words. The slight pull of his eyes before he looked back down at the machine he was tinkering with.

"Yea?"

“Yes, plus… it would’ve been nice to have someone else there to deal with the aftermath of Jayce’s poor choices.”

And every moment after that simply fanned the sparks into the rumbling flame that lived between your ribs. The first unknowing foot into the deep end.

#arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #drabble #viktor fluff

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bringthekaos · 2 months

Note

It's Valentines day and although I'd like to say that Jayde and Viktor are fucking nasty, let's be honest, they are both sleep deprived running like maniacs inside the lab because they have a presentation due tomorrow

Poor babes 😭

Viktor isn’t really into the big, showy romantic acts. They fluster him. And while Jayce adores that rosy blush that rises on Viktor’s cheeks, he wants to do something for Viktor that he will appreciate and enjoy. So he’d initially planned to stop at a bodega and pick up Viktor’s favorite breakfast and his beloved sweetmilk latte.

But they were just so pressed for time as they rushed to the lab to put the finishing touches on their presentation, that Jayce ran out of time. So he changes course, deciding that they’ll do lunch together. They’ll make it quick; step away for half an hour, go sit on a grassy hill in the academy quad, enjoy the sunshine and each other’s company as they eat.

But lunch comes and goes without them, and by the time Jayce notices they’ve missed it, it’s almost 4 in the afternoon. So he changes course again, deciding they’ll do dinner—nothing big or spectacular, just one of his mother’s quick and easy recipes that he can throw together when they get home.

And that gets derailed too, as urgent project after urgent project stacks up, and it has to be today, the presentation is tomorrow. So with a disappointed sigh, he sends Sky for some takeout they can eat while they work.

By the time they get home, it’s almost midnight, and they both have to be up early to go over their speeches. They’re both exhausted, running on empty, and just aching to collapse into bed, clothes and shoes still on. But Jayce manages to convince Viktor of a hot shower (it doesn’t take much—the thought of scolding hot water on his achy muscles is a temptation he hardly resists).

They take their time washing each other, massaging overworked muscles and lathering shampoo into each other’s hair. Their movements get slow and sluggish, their eyes heavy-lidded and weary. But it’s nice, working out the tension of the day as the steam steadily fills the room, as the heat seeps down to their very bones. They of course share a few kisses, some errant touches that hint at erotic, but never really escalate. They both know it’s too late, they’re too tired, and they need to get some sleep. But that doesn’t stop them from just enjoying the closeness.

Viktor goes straight for the bed when they emerge from the sauna that their bathroom has become, but Jayce detours to the kitchen to warm up Viktor’s heat pack for his back. And the look of complete adoration on Viktor’s face as Jayce settles the heat pack right where he wants it, well… it almost makes the whole mess of a day worth it. He slides into bed next to Viktor, the familiar scents of clean cotton and bergamot shampoo lulling him to dreariness near-instantly.

But he scoots in close, reaching up to begin scratching his fingers through Viktor’s hair as he watches those eyelids get heavier and heavier. It wasn’t the ideal Valentine’s Day, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies!!!#arcane #jayvik #jayce talis #arcane viktor #ficlet #Drabble #asks #ace answers

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allora1233 · 10 months

Text

𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕊𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗

genre: fluff - drabble

pairing: Viktor x Reader

wc: >1k

a/n: I'm back! And it's about time I wrote something for my man, even if it is a drabble. I love Viktor so much, expect more in the future. Not proofread

Viktor sighs as he tries and fails to grab a book from the top shelf over the lab desk. You could practically hear him mentally cursing out Jayce for putting it all the way up there. Stifling a giggle, you decided to help the poor man out. Standing up from Jayce's swivel seat, you walk over to him. "You need a hand?" Viktor glances at you from over his shoulder, a soft chuckle escaping him. "No offense, but if I cannot reach this, then you definitely will not be able to."

You know he's right, you did stand at shoulder high for him after all. But that doesn't stop you from putting a hand on your chest and feigning offense. "Well, I'll have you know that living by myself for a long while now has helped me learn how to reach top shelves. Especially since I throw stuff up that high assuming it'll be future me's problem, and then it is future me's problem." Viktor raises an eyebrow and smiles, stepping aside and motioning his hand for you to go ahead. You take a step closer, look down at the desk and back up to the shelf.

Carefully moving stuff over to the next station and clearing the desk space, you lift your legs up and kneel up onto the desk, giving yourself enough height to reach the top shelf. Viktor looks up at you a little panicked. "Please be careful. I do not want you getting hurt-" "Trust me Vik, I've been doing this for years, even when I was little. It's practically impossible for me to fall like this." You cut him off as you grab the book and hand it to him. He sighs and smiles gratefully as he takes the book and holds it under his arm. "Thank you." You sit down on the desk, turning your body to face him. "No problem. Just don't kill Jayce later over this." He pats your head before walking over to his station, opening the book and scanning through the pages. "No promises."

#allora✿works #viktor #arcane #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor drabble #drabble #arcane drabble #arcane x reader #arcane x you #x y/n #x reader #x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane x y/n #viktor x y/n

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astudyincontrasts · 1 year

Note

You gave us jealous viktor which is great

But what about

HIS S/O GETTING JEALOUS BC OTHER GIRLS ARE PAYING ATTENTION TO HIM

You got it, nonny. And just to kill two birds, we’re making this a continuation of drunk!Viktor for everyone asking for a second part.

Inspired by @arcanescribbles artwork featured above, full work here

Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW - Part 1

You didn’t know what you should have expected after that drunken night together. It surely wasn’t this, though. Awkwardness had been anticipated, sure. Perhaps a touch of sweetly embarrassed self-consciousness around each other at what you’d done, at the fumbling, wordless admissions you’d both made about your attraction to each other.

Because what had happened sure hadn’t felt one-sided.

Now, though… now you weren’t so sure. The notion that perhaps Viktor had just been sloshed out of his wits and not actually interested in you had opened like a yawning, sickening little pit within. A sinkhole growing by the day as he avoided direct eye contact, made no effort at all to speak with you beyond the formality of cool greeting or farewell. Worse still, he never seemed to be in a room alone with you, or a room alone at all, preventing any attempt at quiet or private conversation about what had happened.

Truely, it was as if nothing indeed had happened at all. At least for him. Cool, collected, buried in his work, Viktor carried on his day to day blithely unaware of how you stood there, burning. A crackling, scorching human flame of unanswered questions growing more painfully hotter by the day. No, you were back to being another moving bit of the scenery in his world. Nameless, faceless drone among the other lab workers and teaching assistants.

Perhaps you should have taken his example, forgotten all about that night and went on with life as usual. It wasn’t as if he’d used you, after all, or led you on. And with how incredibly drunk you’d both been nothing serious had happened. Just a bit of heavy petting, just the feel of his skin on your skin, his large palms and long fingers greedy to cup each curve they could find, eager to squeeze and leave little light bruises behind that had just about faded to nothing a few days later. Just the taste of his mouth, the heat of his tongue, just…

Maybe that was it. Maybe the fact he’d had too much to drink to stay fully hard had him embarrassed. Or the fact he’d passed out sleepily on you the second he had you beneath him on the couch. Honestly, you’d slept together but that was it. Just sleep. Just a cuddled pile of half-clothed bodies dozing off the booze in a tangled heap of unsatiated sexual frustration.

Or perhaps it was that you’d left so ignominiously; waking well before him to untangle yourself, redress and sneak out without saying a word. At the time you’d blearily thought it was for the best. That this was saving the both of you an awkward, painfully hungover morning of shame and apology. Now you realized you’d instead tossed away your one opportunity to actually make sense of what had happened, together.

Had he been hurt, when he woke and you weren’t there? Or confused? Maybe he’d thought it hadn’t happened, that it had all been a boozy dream. Or maybe he’d misunderstood your leaving as tacit agreement to pretend like your drunken fumble had never occurred.

It was difficult to say which of any of these horrible theories you liked least; that he had never been interested in you, that he was embarrassed of what had happened or regretted it, or that he felt hurt by how you’d slipped away like a thief without a word. And no way to know since you couldn’t talk to him.

It was making you sick, the uncertainty.

Sicker still to watch how little it seemed to affect him. Going about his everyday, blissfully unaware of the weight of your gaze or the crumbling edge of the pit within you that kept shearing off beneath your feet as you suffered his presence in the world in silence. It made you bitterly angry, had you short and sharp with everyone around you, made you feel like a mess of a person while he, gleaming and perfect and calmly polished, sat above it all untouched.

The breaking point came that weekend. Almost two weeks to the day that your world had been unraveled by something as innocent as a little too much wine with dinner.

Progress Day. The first one since the founding of the HexTech labs, since the breakthrough Jayce and Viktor had made that promised to change the world. The first Progress Day since the council had approved HexTech for research and funded the project to design and build what would eventually become the first of the HexGates. The experiments in controlling and directing the gates were coming along, and everyone was giddy with anticipation of the first manned attempt at travel scheduled in the coming months.

Normally you loved the pageantry of the holiday. Loved the tents and brilliant inventions on display, the bustle and busyness of the open streets and multicolored, intricate tents. A feast for the eyes, the imagination, the mind and the senses, overwhelming and exhausting in all the best possible ways.

But instead of a riot of color, your world was a wash of stark grays lit only by the livid flash of angry red as you stood there, manning the HexTech displays and tables along with your fellow lab workers, watching the fawning adoration of the crowds that streamed into the tent to meet the two men of the hour who were touting a brave new world for Piltover.

Jayce was ever the natural; warm and delighted in the fawning attention, the undisputed and easy locus of the majority of the crowd. Viktor less so, more reserved, but still beneficent in his acceptance of the attention. He seemed to catch the overflow from those who couldn’t reach Jayce through the thick gathering that surrounded them both.

And you stood there and watched, as over and over and over again some young woman or another chatted him up. Fluttered eyelashes and smiled up at him, one after another, blushing prettily as he spoke earnestly, putting hands upon him in a vaguely inviting manner that had you want to vomit on your own feet. Stomach lurching every single time he returned a smile, or someone got a little laugh out of him.

So many strangers apparently perfectly deserving of his attention while you were spared not a crumb. Pretty Piltie debutants and eager university students alike, all lined up to take a greedy mouthful of what you’d already had a taste of.

Your limit came when one of them, her hand resting upon his shoulder, leaned up on tiptoe to whisper something into his ear and you watched that insufferably pretty mouth of his curl cockeyed into a smile at the edge just under that dark little beauty mark.

The prototype model you held in the clammy grasp of cold-sweat slicked hands slammed onto the table top, your fellow lab engineers jumping at the sudden violence of it and no doubt staring at your angry little outburst as you spun on a heel and marched off. Head throbbing with every livid heartbeat, the world a hot flame, you cut your way back to the silence of the labs through the crush of crowds and throngs of faceless revelers.

They could all burn. It could all burn.

The labs were mercifully empty. Quiet. Work, work would help, surely. The equations were a worthy opponent and the technical engineering a safe, logical haven where everything was neat, ordered, made perfect sense. Nevermind that you couldn’t possibly do an ounce of the delicate work with how badly your hands shook at the moment. Calm would come. It had to. First, to the stockroom to shed the fancy frippery of the university waistcoat and tie for the protection of one of the lab smocks and to get the equipment and ledgers you needed.

You were just tugging loose the intricate triple fold knot of the tie when you heard your name.

The question of your name, in that familiar voice. Accent too gentle with the syllables of it, too careful with the sound. Oh no. Janna, no. Please.

Viktor’s long, lean shape darkened the doorway of the small stockroom closet a moment later and you felt your mouth go dry even as burning wet prickled unwelcome along your lower lashes.

“Am I interrupting?”

“What are you doing here? You’ll be missed. Don’t want to disappoint all those adoring-”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Viktor’s even, unbothered tone cut off your hotly callous harshness.

“I’ve got work to do.” It was a thin excuse, and as brittle as your voice.

“Oh. I see.” He was so gently willing to let you have your facade that it almost stung more than if he’d pushed back, dismantled your flimsy excuse and left you unprotected and easily seen. A moment’s awkward silence fell like a sharp edged stone heavy between the pair of you as he turned, glanced toward the exit across the lab, and you felt sure he’d take the easy escape.

Instead he turned back, and one stilted step after another brought him into the closet with you.

How many days now, had you been silently screaming, begging that he just look your way, just pay you an ounce of attention, acknowledge you existed? And now, under the weight of both those amber eyes you fervently wished to disappear. Your turn not to be able to look at him, hands struggling with your tie in a way that only made the knot tighter.

“Is something the matter?”

“W-why would anything be the matter?” You asked thickly, dropping hands to your sides hard as you gave up strangling yourself with your tie and instead stared at the shelving in front of you as if it had done a personal injury to every member of your family and your dog as well. “You’d better hurry back. Wouldn’t want to-”

“Are you mad at me?” The quiet question stopped you cold. Viktor’s cane clicked once more upon the floor as he swayed a step closer, and then hung the thing from the edge of a shelf to reach forward and pull the knot of silk around your throat loose. Careful fingers teased the mess you’d made of it until you should have been able to breathe again, were it not for all the air in the room vanishing with his proximity.

So close you could feel the warmth of him. So close you could smell that clean soap-chalk-coffee scent that was so essentially him. Eyes closed tight, if only to stop the hot prickling threat of unbidden tears, brows knit hard together as you forced the hard thud heartbeat in your temples to cease, to let you think clearly godsdammit.

“I confess, I can’t remember everything that happened the other night. I’m afraid I might have done something I regret.” He continued, when you failed to answer.

There it was. That sickly sense of nausea returned in double at the thought you’d taken advantage of him, that you’d both been too intoxicated and he’d never wanted what you’d convinced yourself he’d instigated. That sucking void within beckoned dizzyingly. Fall. You deserved it.

The silk at your throat parted and you felt a tug on the back of your neck that confused you, had eyes opening to find Viktor’s hands with a grasp of either end of your tie, using the looped tether of it to drag you closer, inch by fractional inch until you had to turn the question of your gaze up to meet his.

His expression was tight, almost pained. Like he was struggling to sift through the right words, or couldn’t force them to come at all.

“Viktor-”

“I think… I fell asleep on you. During… well, before. Anything.” His attention had slipped from your eyes to your mouth as you stared at him in confused consternation, “Embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

Wait. He was sorry? That was his regret - falling asleep?

“Have you.” You had to stop yourself, swallow, fix a point of focus on the little mole just below his one eye to keep the world from dissolving around you before you continued, each word coming out clipped and heavy, “Have you been avoiding me?”

Golden flecked gaze lifted slowly from its fascination with your mouth to find your eyes again, and the silently strained discomfort of his expression said it all. Don’t make me be this brave again sober. The breath you sucked was sharp, prickled with the barbed thorns of sudden epiphany.

“When you weren’t there in the morning, I thought… Well. And ever since you’ve seemed angry.”

Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid, Janna how could the smartest man you knew also be the most profoundly stupid… Alright, not that you’d been so incredibly intelligent about all this yourself, but.

All that doubt, all that jealous anger and uncertainty came rushing forward in a searing burst as you shoved him back against the shelves, caught his mouth as you went tiptoe and stopped the both of you saying another foolish word. His initial grunt of shock thinned and warmed to a hungry little hum as that rough kiss deepened. As you caught his lower lip in the tug of teeth before seeking the invitation of the press of his tongue against your own. Hands found his tie and this time you mercifully did not make a mess of it as you got it loose, flung it away and yanked the buttons at his throat open until you could get to skin, skin yes Janna, the taste of his skin again under your mouth.

Above you Viktor sucked a sharp hiss of a breath between teeth as you buried your face in his throat; biting, suckling hard kisses, pouring every last drop of that fruitless jealousy into each taste of him. Leaving a messy clustered path of darkening red and faintly purpling bruises behind from beneath his ear down to the sweet cut of his collarbone as his hands found the shape of your head, fingers sinking into hair and fisting tightly each time you nipped sharply or licked ticklishly over the faint pulse just under the hinge of his sharp jaw.

Yours, and everyone would know it. Everyone would see.

Reeling back a fraction, you gulped air as fingertips stroked lightly over your handiwork, smiling thinly to yourself at the pretty little patterns of pink and plum you’d wrought on that long, pale column of his throat.

“What…?” He was mumbling, puzzled at your smug, dark little expression of satisfaction, clearly as confused as he had been a few moments earlier about the nature of your feelings for him.

“Now all of those girls will know. I don’t want a single one of them thinking they can… I don’t want anyone to…” Words failed you as the hot sting of watching all those pretty women flirt with him as you stood helplessly by came rushing back and eyes darted from the possessive little marks you’d left to catch his gaze. Found him looking lost and confused but madly wanting. Brilliant idiot.

“I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have left.” Everything felt like a heady, dizzy hurry. Two weeks worth of frustration and need pouring out and wiping away any sense of reason in the crushing wave.

You slid to your knees and had his pants open before he could even suck a breath to shape a noise of protest or encouragement. Desperate to show him how he didn’t need a single one of those other girls, to show him how much you’d wanted what had happened the other night and how badly you craved more.

Face pressed into the part of trousers, breath humid as your hands slid over his clothed groin, eyes turned upward in the heavy lidded need that he understand.

“Tell me to stop.” You mumbled, finding the weight and soft curve of his balls through the fabric of trousers, cupping them in a constricting, slow roll of one palm that made the lovely shape of his mouth drop open.

“Nno. No, don’t.” His order was strangled, softly cracked and urgent.

He hissed relief when you freed him at last, gave him respite from the ever tightening confines of clothing and wrapped both warm hands around the considerable girth of his cock. More than you’d anticipated, and the back of your throat burned just looking at it. Gently curved leftward, thickness of it run through with two branching rising veins like a deep blue lichtenburg under pale but flushing skin. The smooth bell curve head of him ruddy with an invitingly deepening rouge along slit and beneath the ridged rise of its edge.

He practically invited taste from look alone, had you all too eager to lick the sensitive head of his cock to a glossy wetness as your hands worked him, pumping slow, too slow if the way his hips rutted forward into their grasp had anything to say about it, yet he made no move to guide or halt you. One long fingered hand pressed to the flat of his own stomach, holding the front tails of his shirt up and back, offering a tantalizing view of the thin, darkly chestnut trail of hair that traced from just above his navel to the base of the cock in your grasp. The other hand still gripping your hair, throwing you right back to how he’d teased you that night. How he’d so perfectly summoned all those secret, dirty little fantasies of doing exactly this, exactly here, in this room.

An urgent, near angry little sound from him as you toyed tongue beneath the straining little sensitive line of frenulum beneath the head of his cock let you know the limits of teasing had been hit. And once more you turned eyes upward, only to feel him tighten his grip upon your hair, the strained, sweet tugging burn coursing over your scalp in a centering little delicious burn of faint pain.

The look on his face had your thighs clench against each other hard. Amber eyes gazing down from a face whose lovely angles made such a welcome seat for the bruised lust enthroned there. Softly dark and dangerous, ravenously wanting in that thinly veiled way that looked so wonderfully devious in place of his usually guileless expression.

The warm, wet heat of your tongue flattened out, let the weight of his head just rest there before you sucked the tormenting tenderness of a wet little kiss off skin made slick by both the oozing beads of his own cum and your licking ministrations.

“Do you want me?” The words mumbled against the hot of his flesh pressed against your wetted lips.

He nodded and you frowned, the slight corkscrew spiral stroke of your hands slowing. The genius finally caught the hint.

“Yes.” The answer was breathy, molasses thick and dark.

“Just me?”

“Janna, yes.” You watched the heavy line of his brows tug in at their center as his knuckles pressed urgency at the back of your head.

Lips parted as you pressed forward, holding his gaze unflinchingly as you let him into your mouth, watching his face, watching him come undone as he sank into the welcoming heat, until you had to let eyes drift shut as he nudged against the back of your throat. One stilted swallow followed the repressed little shudder of a gag before you exhaled and opened in a slow relaxation that let him slide in as deep as you could take.

He tasted good, faintly bitter and sweat salt, clean and saturated with the heady, masculine scent that was just purely him. So lost in the taste of him, in the feel of him filling your mouth, the weight of him against your tongue and lodged deep in your throat that you nearly missed the groaned, quiet noise he made above you a moment before the tug upon your hair insisted that you move.

Hands braced against lean thighs as you let him set the pace, let him use you, hollow cheeked and sucking hard, tongue a little curl around the sensitive heat of his head upon each withdraw. Let him fuck your mouth at a languid pace that belied the urgency of how his hand in your hair was beginning to shake ever so slightly and the tension of thighs beneath your hands trembled with each little, restrained buck of his hips against the back of your throat.

The heated, weighted ache that had settled between your own thighs had you squirming, struggling to keep the balance on knees burning against the unforgiving hard floor. If you could just drop one hand… slide it into the waistband of pants and-

“Viktor?”

Eyes flew open and a strangled little sound of shock and protest ripped from your throat as Viktor frantically yanked you off of himself with his grip of your hair, leaving tears welling reflexively at the sudden sharp burn of your scalp.

“Viktor?!”

Oh gods, oh fuck, oh no. Jayce’s familiar voice and footsteps were approaching the open door to the stockroom too quickly to do anything about. Viktor’s hands closed over your arms and heaved you upright, and in a second you were crushed full body against him, head tucked under his chin, face hidden from the door, the line of your body obscuring his state of arousal and undress.

“Vikto….ooooOH MY GODS. OH JANNA. Oh, I am. I am so sorry. Ha. Oh, oh I’m sorry. Hahaha uhh. Sorry.”

You didn’t need to see Jayce standing in the doorway to know exactly how he’d reeled backward at the shock of finding his decidedly monk like, workaholic, staid introvert of a partner clearly in the throes of an illicit little fun in the lab, of all places. Didn’t need to see him to guess at how he’d most likely slapped a hand over his own eyes, but was now more than likely also peering through the slats of two fingers at the disheveled pair of you. At Viktor’s rumpled and opened shirt and all the darkening marks you’d peppered across throat and collarbone making it impossible to mistake what he’d stumbled upon for anything other than the dalliance it so clearly was.

Viktor’s arm tightened around you as you shoved the hot, mortified flush of your face into the safety of the crook of his far shoulder, clinging to him for dear life.

“What. Did. You. Want.” He asked, strained tone clipped and teeth clenched audibly.

“There’s a… gods I’m sorry. It’s nothing. The uh papers wanted a picture of us all, and uhm we got an invite to the councilors’ cocktail reception tonight… I’m gonna, I’ll uhm, meet you out there.” Jayce’s voice trailed off as you could hear him back pedaling through the lab as he spoke until the slam of the outer door punctuated his departure.

The way the pair of you sagged against each other and groaned in unison might have been hilarious under any other circumstance. As it was, it did have you each smiling ruefully, regretfully at one another in flitting glances that were shockingly shy given what you’d been doing not a moment before.

His hands rose, cradled your head in a soothing touch as his mouth brushed your forehead, and for some reason that tenderness had you far more flustered than any of the filth that had just come before.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“N-no.” You offered up the white lie to save his concern, and accepted another soft kiss further up, against the tickle of your hairline before he released you.

It was clear, with how Viktor struggled himself back into his pants once you stepped back a touch, that going back to what you’d been doing was not on the menu. And regret flooded eagerly in to fill the indent where all that sweet want had sat so deliciously heavy within.

“Viktor…” You weren’t sure where to begin or where even that sentence would end as you stood there, tugging at the hem of your waistcoat.

He caught your face up instead, cupped cheeks in both hands and tilted you up into the hurried rush of a kiss before his forehead pressed to yours.

“Do you want to come to a party tonight with me, or would you rather stay home? …Also with me.” He added, quickly. Brilliant idiot.

“I…”

“Let me know. I have to go now.” He bent, grabbed his tie, and caught his cane up off the shelf he’d hooked it to. One last little stolen peck of a kiss burned warmly upon the apple of your cheek as he gifted you a slanting, reserved small smile on his way out the stockroom.

Left you to stand there, spinning while holding perfectly still, trying to sort out which way was up and what had just happened. All that energy so ill spent in the last two weeks suddenly gone, leaving you feeling drained, empty save for the warm fluttering of confused excitement about how wrong you’d been. The glut of emotions was overwhelming, had you covering your face with both hands to exhale a silent scream.

No, it hadn’t been a mistake. Drunk and messy, yes, but not a mistake. Oh oh gods, the marks you’d left on him! The way you’d both been caught red-handed…

No, no you had to get yourself together. Get out of here, go outside, get lost in the crowd and ride out the confused elation and embarrassment and excitement surrounded by the distracting noise and crush of strangers. No sooner had you hurriedly straightened yourself out and caught your breath, no sooner had you stepped out of the closet then you’d nearly walked face first into Viktor.

One more taste of his mouth in the rush of yet another hurried kiss as he caught your chin between thumb and the crook of forefinger.

“Please say you don’t want to go to that party.” He begged breathlessly, crooked smile broad and eyes bright, as shocked, you shook your head in agreement.

“Good. My place tonight?”

“Ye-yes ok.”

Sweet little thrill, to watch those fox-slanted golden eyes narrow in delight before he released you and hurried off, in so much as that gait let him hurry, only to stop by the doors and cast one more little hooking smile over a shoulder before he disappeared.

#viktor drabble #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane fic #viktor fic #happy sinday ya'll #part three you say? don't mind if i do #thank you scribs bby for the constant inspiration #muah

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