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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

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Noisy - Part Four

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

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5,500

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

Previous | Masterlist

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You couldn’t sleep.

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

Another sleepless night was not what you needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except that you had been advised to start over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or present the dissertation you had already prepared.

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

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

Sliiiiiide. Scrape. Scrape! BOOM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” he told you.

“What are you doing up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something wrong?” he asked abruptly.

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

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

“Something like that,” you admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I hurting you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Close.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Lure’ is an ugly word.”

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

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

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

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

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

“With you?” you checked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

Thank you for reading!

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leurdhavemerky · 20 days

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Funny SFW Viktor x Gn!Reader Headcanons 💖

-Viktor cannot STAND black coffee. Sometimes when you're pissed at him, you "forget" to add creamer or sweetmilk. His face is hilarious.

-He isn't an animal guy- they take lots of time to care for... which he does not have. But when you rescue some kitten off of the streets, he can't help but treat it like a baby. He bought one of those little feather shakers and spends his free time snuggling your kitty. Despite insisting he isn't emotionally attached.

"Fur baby? This is not my fur baby! He's just small and fluffy, that's all. Now stop teasing me," he says, dramatically looking up at you while gently petting the little thing.

-Terrible at interior design. Used to have only a single sad wooden chair at the "dining" table. Note: There is a small crack in the sad wooden chair due to prolonged ponderings. 🪑

"Where do you even buy these things? Most of my decor consists of scattered notes and trinkets." (He is looking at a finger painting of a bird that your toddler cousin made.)

-Viktor is a big fan of meal prepping and has a giant pot's worth of soup or pasta available 24/7. Sometimes he invites you over just to help polish off a hefty tupperware full of fettuccine before it goes bad. He's a surprisingly good cook, whipping up a mean omelet for you on lazy mornings.

-He has calloused and worn hands from writing and tinkering all day. As a gag gift, you buy him those kiddie princess band-aids... your know the ones. After a small mishap, he reaches into the first aid drawer of the lab, only to pull out a smiley anthropomorphic dog. Oh well, he thinks, wrapping it around his finger.

"I see you're wearing the band-aids I bought you, hm?" you tease.

"Very funny," he says, eyes still glued to the bolt he's turning.

-Viktor is nosy when he gets bored. He looks through your books, adding little notes on random pages.

"Spicy, don't you think? I'm sure Heimerdinger wouldn't approve. Tsk tsk, dove." - V

📖🖊

(Written in the best chapter of your romance novel.)

-During academy meetings and events, you have a subtle signal for what is essentially a side eye. Phrases like:

-"Did you hear that right?" 🤨

-"That's crazy talk." 🙄

-"Are you ready to leave?" 🥱

-"Look over there." 👀

Are expressed with two hand-squeezes.

“I love you” is expressed with three.

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Hello this is my first tumblr thing I'm scared thank you goodbye

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane fluff

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 7 months

Text

my dearest fic writers who headcanon viktor as czech! i know you guys are struggling with google translate — and it indeed is awful (for slavic languages especially, cause it keeps messing up the adjective declension).

i have an amazing alternative: deepl and reverso context. i’m currently getting my degree (german translator) and i’m a fellow slavic fic writer — therefore, i use those A LOT for uni. and let me tell you — google translate is absolute shit compared to those two. reverso context even provides you qualitative example sentences??? how cool is that???

anyway i love love LOVE seeing czech viktor fics and headcanons and i just figured i might share those helpful little things with ya’ll so you don’t have to struggle with shitty ass machine translator.

live laugh love viktor <3

#viktor arcane #viktor czech #viktor definitely cusses in czech im not the one making the rules #viktor fics #viktor x reader

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astudyincontrasts · 1 year

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Incubus Viktor ~ Part 2

Incubus Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW

Art by @arcanescribbles my beloved angel

Well. It only took me an entire month of work BUT here you go, my sweetly patient darlings. A continuation of this fun little drabble. Thank you all for bearing with my slow progress and for all your lovely support🖤 Enormous thank you to @insult-2-injury for helping to battle my brain goblins. ilu bb

TW: no y/n, anxiety, new relationship dynamics, how to train your incubus, sex, smut, cockwarming, edging, overstim, body worship, multiple orgasms, anal/rimming, possessiveness, breeding kink(?), attempted assault, off screen implied death

The heavy iron skeleton keys rattled against the lock as you opened the door. You’d become used to their weight, in your hand, in your pocket, clanking about in your bag. And used to the home they belonged to… that you belonged to now, as surely as those rough edged, intricately cast metal monstrosities that let you into your front door.

The landlord had seemed surprised to find you still there when he returned, unexpectedly and unannounced, to check on the place two days after you’d moved in. As shocked to see you standing there, dripping mop held like a weapon and eyes wide as your pulse hammered in your ears as you were to see him letting himself uninvited into your new home. Convinced he’d been someone picking the elderly locks to break in and claim squatter’s rights or else rob you.

He’d stayed shocked while you’d dissolved into irritation and held out your hand for the spare skeleton key he’d so conveniently chosen to keep for himself. He surrendered it without a fight, to his small credit, and as you assured him that you were perfectly happy with your lease of the house and shut the door upon him, you weren’t sure which of you were more suspicious of the other. You, wondering just how much the greasy oaf of an old man knew about the home he couldn’t seem to keep tenants in, or him, left to ponder over why or how you had made it through a single night there.

It had been several months now, and you still weren’t sure you could have honestly answered the question of why you had stayed, even to yourself.

“Moje sladká broskvička…”

The voice purred in your ear, no sooner than you had the door shut and the key turned in the lock on the inside. Broskvička, broskvička, broskvička… That reverberating, gradual manifestation of a voice that licked straight through the shell of your ear to course along the wet ripples of brain matter in its forward and back soft echo that still made your eyes struggle with the urge to flutter shut and thighs clench.

As he’d grown stronger, as you’d fed him, Viktor had gained more control over himself. No longer relegated to only appearing in the dead of night as he had been in the beginning, though he was certainly stronger, more whole after the sun had set. Not fond of brilliant, bright sunshine, and somehow less during daylight hours; that insatiable, insensible pull of him not nearly as intoxicating as it was after dusk.

Still, he seemed to like to be where you were, with you, daylight or no, and even when he wasn’t there beside you the house felt like an embrace, saturated with him and infatuated with you.

“You’re back.” He breathed over your shoulder, and you felt his face press into the soft give of your hair as the climbing, curling grasp of long clawed hands materialized around you and slid up under the front of your shirt to gently rake fine pointed nails over the small swell of your stomach as the black mist shroud that always heralded him coiled and spilled around you like tendrils of living, liquid smoke whilst he himself took shape from them.

The bags in your hands dropped as the weight of him pinned you to the door, his head laid in the crook of your shoulder, the sticky smoke soft strands of his dark hair tickling your cheek and throat.

These desperate, eager greetings had become common. Dogs were less eager to see their masters after a long day. Even though every evening you returned home from work, even though you’d never made a move to pack up your things, even though you spent most spare time fixing up and cleaning the old place, he still seemed to harbor a deep seated fear that perhaps each time you left the house that he was apparently bound to that you would not return. He never voiced this concern, but you could feel it in these greetings, in the subtle way the strange amorphously solid conundrum of his body shivered ever so slightly as he pressed to you, in the tenderness of clawed hands as they slid over your own skin, reassuring himself you had returned to him.

It was intoxicating, if you were honest, to be this desired and missed so badly, to be yearned for.

Turning in your pinion between him and the door arms lifted, hands sliding over the ephemeral texture of his skin as he gathered you to himself with a deep, quiet purring noise of immaculate pleasure that trailed out at the end of each breath in eerie, soft clicks. His kisses traced a map across your throat and jaw, to lick tenderly along the shape of your collarbone. Soft little lines of tingling fire rose from your shoulder blades and down your ribs as clawed fingertips raked gently down the span of your back to press palms hard into the small of your back, arch you toward him.

At times you thought perhaps you’d learned some resistance to that thick, honeyed drug of his seduction, that you’d somehow managed to keep your bearings and sense better as the time had passed, only to be disabused of that notion time and time again when he truly dialed up that unspeakable, heady pull of his that turned bones and willpower both to warm jelly.

No, it was Viktor who’d become better at his control, not you. As if sensitive to the quiet terror that ran like a low current under your eager submission to his power, as if he could see swimming in the back of your lust-drunk eyes the fear of that lack of self control, and so tried to keep that thrumming, beguiling narcotic effect of his in check.

He slipped at times though, too excited, too enthralled and eager and hungry for you.

Not that your appetite for him ran any different.

Whatever he was, however dark and terrifying and arcane, you wanted him. Craved him even without the influence of his seduction. Beautiful and dangerous and achingly gentle in the quiet moments, he was a creature that had infested your desire as surely as he had infested the decrepit old Victorian house.

He crooned wordlessly as your hands cradled up the angles of his face, pressing his forehead to your own with a sigh like it was the first time he’d been able to breathe since you’d left that morning. It made your heart ache a little.

“Viktor…” Voice gently chiding, ready to chase away his concern.

The knock at the door to your back cut you off, and quick as he had materialized, Viktor vanished, dark smoke dissipating into thin air, leaving behind a scent of petrichor and extinguished candles.

Spinning in surprise to gaze through the ancient leaded decorative glass panes of the door’s large window at the figure distorted behind them, you turned the key you hadn’t yet had a chance to take from the lock, and pulled the door open an inch. A toothily smiling masculine face greeted you, a good foot and half taller than yourself, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise to stand on end as thick fingers curled around the edge of your open door a few inches from your own face.

“Hullo, lovie. Name’s Barrett.”

“Hi.” Reply dry, cold and verging on impatience. The kind of tone you reserved specifically for overconfident door-to-door salesmen. Barrett seemed to take no notice.

“I been lookin for work in the neighborhood and heard a rumor this old place had been let again. I’m a bit o’ a handyman ya see. Specialty is roofing.” Dark eyes cast upward toward the inside of your obviously sagging porch roof before searching around the slice of room he could see through the barely cracked open door above your head. “I figured as I’d come introduce myself quick as I could, offer my services.”

You did not like how those dark eyes ticked up and down and over you with the same greedy calculation as they had the room behind you. Nor the way his smile spread like an oil slick across the uncomfortably unkempt looking five o'clock shadow of his face. Unable to tell if the dark smudges staining skin beneath the stubble were dirt or faded old scars under his olive complexion.

“Old place like this… sure it could use a lil tender care, hm?”

Did he just fucking wink at you?

“As you said, this place is leased. Any major repairs are the owner’s responsibility. Do go see him if it's employment you want.” Polite but firm, the only hint of rudeness in your inability to unclench your jaw.

He tutted and pushed at the door without exerting much effort at all and you were alarmed to find he easily slid you back a few inches across your carefully polished and restored glossy wooden floorboards.

“Sure you’re right. Silly of me, hm? I jus’ heard this place was occupied again an’ got excited. You don’t mind if I come in, take a look around an’ take stock of what might need doin’ so I can work up an estimate for the landlord, do ya sweetheart?”

Heels dug in as you shoved your shoulder against the door and tried to force the inexorable slow opening of it back closed against his strength.

“Yes I do mind! S-stop!”

He was laughing softly at your frantic effort, like your sudden jolt of hot fear was the silliest, funniest thing in the world, and weren’t your struggles precious?

Neither of you expected the way the door suddenly jerked and slammed shut on his fingers like it had a mind of its own.

Barrett was howling, scrambling on the other side of the door to yank his mashed fingers free, and there was a horrifying moment when all you could do was stand there and stare at those digits turning a sickly hot purple and angry red and think for sure you were about to see them fall severed onto your doormat.

No idea who was more relieved, you or him, when the door eased a fraction and he was able to wrench fingers free before it slammed shut in earnest and the key turned in the lock all on its own.

Only, you knew it was not on its own. Barrett stood on the porch, cursing and grunting and hissing breath through his gapped teeth as you stared at the distorted blob of him through the textured glass, stared at the smudge of blood where his fingers had grasped the door, and mustered your voice once more.

“No thank you! …And no soliciting!”

The sound of him spitting some kind of hateful slur like ‘bitch’ at the door was the only response, paired a short second later with the heavy sound of his footfalls thundering across the porch and down the front steps. Another moment of staring at the door before you bent to grab your groceries off the floor and headed for the kitchen, shaken but alright.

Viktor found you there once more, hands trembling as you tried to simply focus on putting the groceries away. You felt him coalesce, felt him lingering close without touching, felt his confusion at the emotion rolling off you in unhappy waves. Cheeks hot, your face burning and you couldn’t say why, why you should feel so embarrassed or upset.

“You’re angry?”

Viktor’s question came softly behind your left ear, had you grit teeth as you struggled to even out your breathing.

“No, Viktor.” Your answer took the form of a tired sigh as you closed a cabinet door a little too hard and leaned heavily upon the countertop on the heels of your palms. At least that stopped them shaking.

One hook nailed fingertip drew a lock of hair back behind your ear, the sharp of it tracing lightly along the curving, delicate shell of its shape.

“He scared you.” His rejoinder was defensive, sulky, “He meant to hurt you.”

Hurt you hurt you hurt you. You shook off the subtle draw of his voice with a small shiver, eyes closing and brows knitting tightly as you fought the urge to forget your anxiety and seek out his mouth instead.

“Mmnnh. You…you don’t know that.” You pressed back, quietly petulant, turning your face away as you clung to the anger of the entire interaction. Of the stranger who felt comfortable enough to try to let himself into your home and the spectre who felt beholden to enact a violence on your behalf that had left your stomach turning.

The vision of those purpling fingertips and the shrieking of the man behind the door would not stop haunting you.

“Yes, I do.”

Goosebumps lifted along your skin in tandem to that chilling, insistent confession of his and the soft dragging stroke of the pads of his fingers along the shape of your jaw.

“Please just, stop. I don’t… I don’t need protecting.” Railing against the pull of him, you slammed a hand down hard on the countertop, letting the sting of the slap center you, “I can take care of myself!”

There was a soft little hissing, incomprehensible sound that might have been a muffled word in that language of his you did not understand, and his touch dissipated.

Viktor was gone by the time you managed to force eyes back open and turn around sharply. Left you wondering not for the first time exactly how that mind of his worked, how he worked. Left you both regretful to have chased him off with your angry chill and grateful to be left to sort through your thoughts rationally without the clouding influence of his presence.

By later that night however, when he had not reappeared, you had begun to feel worse about your little tantrum. Viktor was not at fault for how the stranger had made you feel both vulnerable and angry all at once. He’d only done what he could to try to help.

Finishing your glass of wine, you rose and dressed, and went downstairs.

Only after getting a crackling fire going in the ornate, large fireplace and settling back against the old tufted jacquard couch did you draw a deep breath and lift your chin and watch the shifting, flickering shadows play about the room. Long and sad, stretching thin along the walls in ever changing shapes that did not exactly correspond to the furniture or items that might have cast them. Watched them lick over the floor, darken the corners and cling to the ceiling.

“Viktor?”

The shadows shifted, drew back. The air in the room stirring, brushing back against your skin like the house itself had drawn a breath into unseen lungs.

“Viktor… please?”

The shadows seemed to suck back behind you, gathering together, portent to the dark spill of slow unwinding coils of heavy smoke that pooled and poured over the back of the couch before those impossibly long, necrosed dark claws came tack tack tacking over the wooden spine of the old couch and creeping slowly over your shoulder, up to curl over the column of your throat as the tip of his nose brushed the soft of your cheek opposite.

“Forgive…?”

Forgive forgive forgive. It suckled at the back of your brain, made you arch hard against the stiff back of the couch and let your neck roll over the cold decorative wooden spine of its upper edge as his mouth pressed to your temple, your hairline. As that thick cloying, molasses sweet darkness made your mouth feel full and heavy, turned a simple exhalation into a low, lingering moan.

“Forgive me, little peach… forgive me please…?”

“Vik…hhmmn… Viktor.”

Hands sought his, tugging carefully as you forced yourself back from the edge of submission, straightened your spine as you sat up, reeling back from that delicious abyss of want as you stood unsteadily and turned to face him.

“I want you,” It came out panting, struggling to finish that thought, “To sit.”

No way to describe how he moved from stooping over behind the couch to sitting upon it, as if he passed directly through it or just… shifted, mind-bending in how he moved without moving, leaving those tendrils of dissolving darkness behind to be seated upon the couch where you had just been, the gleaming irises of hotly golden illuminated eyes cast dejectedly into his own lap under those heavy dark brows, the cupids bow of his mouth parted but downturnt as he sat, arms open along the high armrest and back of the couch, long legs sprawled indolently even in his unhappiness.

Your handsome devil could make the world spin with his sly smirk but oh, the way his pout could turn you inside out. It was unfair, that such a creature should look so vulnerable, so beholden and chastised and dispirited and yet so enticing. Unfair that you should have made him feel this way.

Hands fumbled in their tug at the hem of your modest nightgown and those shining eyes of his lifted from their downcast to watch you tug that long gown up and over your head, his dark brows rising as you tossed it aside to stand before him in nothing save the deeply plunging lace bodysuit you’d hidden beneath.

It was a dark merlot colored confection that bared your entire back and nearly as much of your front, barely a set of sheer, high cut panties with twin slashes of matching lace attached in the center of the front that rose in a vee to cover each breast and only met again where they looped behind your neck. Hands smoothed over your own hips as you stood watching his eyes widen.

Your turn to be the one smiling slyly as you closed the space between you to climb into the spread of his lap and straddle one lean thigh, watching his mouth open soundlessly as he ricocheted from his dejection to delighted surprise, as the radiance of golden eyes raked up the shape of you in undiluted desire, his dark clawed hands hovering, as if afraid to touch and be chastised once more, but unable to deny the bitter, fighting longing to have the warmth of your skin under his palms once more.

You let him suffer his uncertainty as you shaped hands to the beautiful angles of his face, stroking the sharp of cheekbones, the sculptor’s perfection of a jawline.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Skin that soft strange play of cold and heat as you pressed a kiss to the very center of his dark brows where they’d pinched together over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, I was just scared and upset.”

Another brush of a kiss to the pretty little beauty mark under an amber eye before you straightened and let your weight settle more fully upon his thigh. Releasing a soft sigh as the delicious pressure of his leg became friction with a roll of your hips.

Hands slid to rest upon his shoulders as you rocked yourself in your seat upon his leg, watching him eye you with that insatiable hunger building steadily upon those beautiful, angular features as he lifted his thigh, pressed into the roll of your hips encouragingly.

“Such things I would do for you, milovaná,” That echoing, softly pitched voice of his sounded so longing as he watched you lean closer, for once the one slightly taller than him in your seat, forcing him to tilt the sharp of his chin up, “Precious to me.”

As if still trying to explain himself and his violence. Tongue made a little tutting sound against the roof of your mouth as you shushed him, leaned forward to lip a grazing little kiss to his upper lip. Precious to him. Protective of you. It fizzed beneath your heart, warmed in your veins and joined that delicious, growing weight of the ache for him in the pit of you. Who in your life had ever treasured you so? And you’d been so callous as to scold him for it.

Determined now to make it up to him, to show him that dark place he’d made a home in your heart, to let him taste how deep your devotions ran. Sample your affection and make a feast of apology.

Slow, so slow, the sharp and careful drag of nails and fingertips came at last, down either side of your spine, ghosting over the curve of hips only to play back up the edges of the lace that barely covered the shape of your bottom, catching and toying, threatening to snag. Coy tease, lighting little ticklish licks of electric fire under skin, prickling into the softness of your flesh, urging the roll of hips forward as you rode his thigh unhurriedly.

“You… you are precious to me too.” You managed to sigh out, the marvelous friction of dampening lace against your sex making cohesive thought as slippery as his thigh was quickly becoming. It had him croon delight; both the words and the way you shuddered as the first hint of a lazy flutter teased behind your navel.

Half lidded eyes watched that curious expression of his soften into the slicking spread of a sharp toothed fox-sly smile as deviously delighted in your admission as a devil could be. Was he devil? Demonic? A terribly gentle harbinger if that was the case.

The gleaming brilliance of eyes slanted closed as your fingertips stroked his throat, as you bent close to kiss the tiny dark mole just above the edge of his mouth, and then to lick at one of the strange, small markings carved darkly into his skin. Claws closed upon the spread of your thighs straddling his own as that warm rumbling, eerie clicking purr of his kicked up once more while your mouth strayed along his throat, down across his collarbone.

For as much as he delighted in unraveling you, it was those small moments when you could return his affections, show him softness and offer caress that seemed to undo him the greatest. Made you feel heady with power any time his head rocked back, or his grip upon his mischievous composure slipped. He was scrabbling, clawing for it now, struggling as you sucked soft, deep purple marks across his skin while your hand slipped down between his lean thighs and the ghosting, dark fog he often ‘clothed’ himself with dissipated at your touch.

Always hard for you, always eager and ready waiting.

Viktor’s chest was stuttering, heaving shallow quick breaths as you slid forward, thumbed aside the gusset of lingerie and straddled him in earnest, hooking ankles back over the tops of his thighs with the bend of your legs. All the better leverage as you pressed the thick, dark length of his cock to the part of your pussy. Let him savor that heat he so desired as you bobbed, slicking your wet along him in slow grinding lifts.

“...Beloved,” His voice, the words seemed to coalesce out of the air itself, drawn from somewhere far more distant than the lean column of his throat. The fire at your back guttered then roared, flames fed on more than the coals beneath them. Instead of more reassurances or sweet pleading, the terrible dark beauty of his mouth was left hanging open while the gleam of eyes shuttered behind taut closed lids.

About time he was the one struggling with his words instead of you. The power of it was delicious, had you lifting to settle over top of him, to let him press to your entrance invitingly. Let him feel how you dripped for him, savor that heat, so close…

Hands clenched upon your hips, their long fingered grasp nearly enough to span and touch at the small of your back, thumbs pressing a slow, circular caress, urging, trying to ease you down upon him. Ah but you were determined, wanted him ravenous, wanted to push that envelope as far as possible and see what it bought you. It was in your nature, you were coming to realize; that insatiable dance toward dangers you could not fathom. The girl who wanted the haunted house, the girl who stayed. The girl madly infatuated with the monster in the shadows under her bed.

“Mmn, impatient…” You panted, breath sticky in your throat, filling lungs like water as instead you lifted from over him and sat back once more, hands smoothing along the lean ripple of his stomach, catching a grip at narrow hips and then sliding inward. “Don’t I get to…mmnh… don’t I get to please you?”

“Moje malá broskvička, you always please m… ahhn!”

That seductive tenor of his voice dropped off sharply as your hands curled grip around the thick girth of his cock. Stiff and heavy in your hands, the same otherworldly deep ashen blue and bruised purple as the rest of him, deepening to that inky black at its smooth head. Fingers licked over it, tightening grip as he twitched in your hands and you stroked slow, let one thumb trace the throbbing ridged rise of thick vein that ran from base nearly to tip, watched him slyly as bright eyes slanted open and his dark head lifted.

Toying at the sensitive give of frenulum, you watched his hips rock, rise under you. Watched that dark smooth, thick bell curve head positively drool pearlescent, sticky drips of precum.

That desiccated third arm of his unfolded from behind him to rise up, grasp at the back of the couch hard enough you could hear the wood of it groan and the jacquard puncture under sharp claws. As he had grown stronger the spectre of that strange additional limb had weakened, faded away, until now it only made itself known in the heights of his hunger or depths of his depravity.

It was nearly violent, how suddenly Viktor canted forward, and you so eager to meet his mouth with yours it became more collision than kiss. He was hot against your mouth, eager in your hands. So easy to lose yourself in him, in how the taste of him filled your mouth, made it water for more, made your tongue burn with a soft fire and the back of your throat thicken.

It was a struggle to draw out the tease, to take your time as you toyed with him, drunk on the air around him, lost in that heavy, cloying lust that thickened blood in your veins and made each motion a slow struggle. You smiled sleepily down at him as you rose to take a straddle of him for the second time that night.

This time, however, you let him in.

Painfully sweet, that delicious slow stretch. Your moans soft things under the echoing deep of his long groan as you worked yourself unhurriedly down upon the straining heat of the curve of his cock, the slow gripping, slick clench of inner walls easing inch by inch to give the thick of him quarter. Oh, so full, so deep when at last you were seated completely, hips just barely rolling a fraction every so often as you railed against the clenching, burning, insistent need to feel him move within, to ride him until your legs gave out and mind broke. Free of every little care save the hot spill of him inside you, wiping away the world and leaving just his embrace. Not yet, not yet.

Under you lean hips lifted, fought the obvious urge to fuck up into you with the straining impatience that you move, already. But still you sat, smiling near drunkenly as you squeezed around him, gasping at the hard little twitch you could feel within that inner grasp, gazing into the narrowed fire of golden eyes before you, reveling in how you could feel his ache, his need singing in the silence strung between you, ready to snap as easily as a strand of saliva caught between mouths after a kiss.

The entrancing shape of Viktor’s mouth curled at one edge as the dawning realization of what you were doing seemed to break over him and he channeled all that hot desire to hammer up into you instead into pitching forward once more to press his face to the bare slash of your sternum.

Arms folded around his head and shoulders in a loose embrace, cheek coming to rest upon the strange soft of his dark hair as you held him, felt him mumble sweetly against your flesh as his own arms finally enfolded you fully, clawed hands shaped dark wings to the planes of your bare shoulder blades. So delicious, to just sit there, full of him, surrounded by him, warm want seeping through veins and skin, soft fire burning flush under cheeks and hot up throat and scalp as you luxuriated in the lapping, licking waves of the building tide of lust rising with every second you refused to stir to motion. Just holding him within and relishing that intense, unspeakable feeling of completion he always offered so eagerly.

It was a sensation that had haunted your waking hours and sleep alike, had you eager to race home at the end of each day, frequently distracted you from your work. How wanting him infiltrated every innocent thought any more, every quiet moment. Had you squirming in your chair at work, pressing thighs together and struggling to keep the small of your back from arching at the sweet, intrusive fantasy of him under you, in you, of just sitting upon him, struggling to focus on what you needed to do as he whispered adoring filth in your ear.

No way to tell him, to find the courage to give voice to those dirty little thoughts… but you could show him.

Viktor’s head tilted and you loosened arms to allow him to gaze up along you, the sharp of his chin still pressed to your sternum and eyes shyly half-lidded as if seeking approval, agreement. It had you smile once more, that so terrifying a creature could be so deeply infatuated with you as to seem wound around your little finger. It was a heady rush, a sweet spice to the illicit thrill of allowing this unearthly monster between your thighs; to let him into your very heart.

And how could you not, with how softly his mouth closed over your own as you tugged him up to catch a lingering kiss from him? With that electric tingling deliciousness of his tongue and its seductive late summer taste of tart crisp apple and bloody, earthy sage, of dripping honeycomb and the briny bite of salt tears.

You kissed him slow and deep, savoring, taking all the time in the world, fingers ghosting along the sharp, long line of his jaw until his arms began to loosen and long fingered hands strayed down along ribs toward the nearly bare curve of your bottom while his tongue painted a wandering, lingering wet lick down the offering of your throat.

You meant to make him stop, but devoid of the distraction of your mouth under his own he went licking at the dark, wine colored lace of that lingerie, tonguing slowly over the pressing peak of one nipple through the thin fabric before nosing the teasing slash of lace aside to close lips over the sensitive sweet bud.

Slow, slow suckle and release, over and over until you were shivering, aching, dragging your own nails down the nape of his elegant neck as the tip of that impossible tongue of his wrapped and spiraled round the singing burn of your flushed nipple, tickling and teasing its stiffness as you moaned long and shudderingly low for him, warmth blossoming, spilling within in slow rivulets.

“W-wait…wait…”

“Wait? Why wait, delicious one?” He murmured, releasing you from his mouth with an obscenely wet little pop that had the depths of your belly clench, had the hot throbbing at your core tighten around him invitingly. He was already headed to uncover the neglected hard nubbed and eager little twin to your hotly colored and glistening wet nipple.

One dark hand slid down between you both, thumb seeking the spread of your sex, unerringly brushing featherlight tease along the swollen ache of your clit, a ghosting caress that had your entire body convulse hard in a gasping little mewl. Calling your bluff, raising the stakes.

“You make me wait. Wait years for you, and now wait all day. Make me worried, so cruel. Little tease.”

Delightful to hear him growl softly at being so denied, no heat in the lovely reverberating, eerie echoing noise of it, only determined frustration and seeping want.

“Wait,” You still insisted breathlessly, writhing over him as his hips dipped only to grind the hard hot length of him up into you, threatening to undo you, threatening to loose that slipping hold he had on his own straining yearning.

Hands pressed to his chest as you struggled to stay still, struggled against the way hips disobeyed you with each new, barely there pass of his thumb grazing your clit. Met resistance as he struggled against that base urge, that all consuming drive, until at last you could feel the shift of him once more mastering that ravenous hunger, feel him give and let you push him back, push him down to sink indolently back in his seat upon the couch.

Gleaming amber eyes gazed up at you tormentingly as that thumb of his began a taut little circle that had you sinking teeth into the plush of your own lower lip, stifling and strangling the breathless whines building up in the back of your throat as you shivered in his lap. His laughter a hissed sibilance, dark and rich as chocolate, soft as satin, licking into your ears as you fought and lost the battle against that first delectable orgasm, head thrown back as the tether snapped and you came undone over him, clenching rush wringing tight at your belly, deep in your core and coursing outward in one pummeling tidal crush of wonderful heat.

“Ahh…there, little peach…” He soothed as he rocked hips beneath the burning complaint of your tensed thighs and bent knees, offering you just a little taste of what you might have if only you’d move for him, give in to the growing urge to ride him to your own destruction. “Isn’t that better? Ah, moje milovaná how you drip for me. Give up, delicious one. I always win your games…”

One hard little buck of his hips drove him up into you as if to make his point for him, leaving you gasping, air whistling soundlessly out of the open oh of your mouth as you clung both to him and the shredding, unraveling rope of your willpower.

Games, yes. You liked playing little games with him, didn’t you? His teasing rocked you backward into a memory of months ago, when you’d been struggling with much needed work to the house and he’d been insistently nipping at your heels, tormenting you with little touches and whispers, pulling you distractingly from the task at hand until you’d given up in an amused huff.

“You want to play, hm?” You’d asked to the empty air, not nearly so bold as you managed to sound, fighting how badly you’d wanted to just strip off paint stained and dust covered work clothes and let him settle between your thighs right there on the dropcloth covered floor.

A stirring in shadows of one dark corner caught your attention as it spilled and spread, gathered and rose to a crouched inky shape undefined save for the features of his face illuminated by the twin lanterns of those brilliant eyes.

Your devil looked stunned, momentarily shocked before those sharp teeth all bared in a gleaming, lopsided curl of a smirk as he came shifting forward, lean shoulders and sharp shoulder blades hunched like a large cat as claws dug into the floor, audibly prickling the fabric of messy dropcloths strewn about. Coiled to spring.

Your own smile spread, grew sprawling until you let out a shriek and turned to sprint off into the house.

There was no sound of footfalls behind you, no huffing breath to match your own as you had skidded through the halls. No quarter to hide here, no place he could not find you, there was only flight and the silent chase from the shadows you could feel stretching out toward you, reaching ephemeral fingers, grasping in your wake.

He got you first in the dining room, massive old unused space bare save for the ancestral table that stretched the length of it. He caught you from behind the door, surging forward in a dark rush of smoke and shade, had you pitching backward onto the table as that pretty face of his shoved hungrily between your thighs, breath cool over the fabric of the pants you wore, the slow dragging swirl of his tongue luxuriating over the denim hiding velvet softness of an inner thigh from his taste and up, inward to lap at the crux of thighs as if even through pants he could taste sodden cotton barely covering glossed lips. You arched in spite of yourself as he pushed the full force of his face hard between your legs.

Only when he paused to moan quietly at the scent of you did you find your moment, shimmied backward over the table to drop off the other side and forced weak-kneed legs to work, to keep up that chase.

Peels of your laughter echoed through the dark halls as you fled, his own deeper in its wake, that otherworldly back and forth reverberation impossible to source, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Up the taut spiral of stairs you went, through the upstairs rooms only to have him catch you as you tried to escape back downstairs via another winding stairwell, shooting out of the dark to press you face first to the wall as he ground into you, weight pinning you to the wallpaper as he slid a hand between you and the wainscoting to slip fingers down within the waistband of pants, stroking, petting, caressing as you rolled against him, panting. The pinch of his teeth catching at the curve of your shoulder.

“Don’t run, little peach.” He was whispering against your skin, teasing clit through cotton in a way that had you bucking, fruitlessly fighting that delectable pull of how well he’d come to know you, how well he could get you. Teasing tight little circles and metronome rubs against sodden panties and in another minute the coiling, tensing, building weight behind your navel was at the tipping point.

“Ah, ahn, ahhhn…Viktor…”

“Nowhere I can’t find you, milovaná. Say I win, let me feast.” Mouth against your ear, teeth tugging soft at the tender shell. Eyes fought to roll back in your head, but you managed to somehow squeeze out from between him and the wall to nearly tumble down the stairs and spill out into the kitchen.

The door to the basement stood dark and silent against the far wall, and without a second thought you fled for it.

“No!”

Suddenly Viktor was before you in less time than it took to blink, barring the door, back to it and arms spread. Handsome features no longer twisted in delight at your new game, but rather stark in deadly seriousness and… terror?

“Viktor,” It had thrown you, pitched you straight into scolding, as if he were a child, “It’s just a basement.”

You’d been down there before, with the landlord, on the day you agreed to the lease. Nothing bad down there, just dust and piles of old junk from previous owners. Nothing to warrant a reaction like this. Especially from a creature so fearless, so impervious as your sweet devil.

Still, he caught your wrist as you reached insistently for the doorknob, grasp tight around fine bones as he shook his head in mute pleading, the brilliance of eyes widening further.

“No!”

His fear, because that had to be what it was -fear- softened you. And while you tucked that dangerous spike of curiosity away for another time, you could not deny that it was there. One more little mystery about him, one more secret he wouldn’t or couldn’t speak.

“Okay, it’s okay…” The course of your stopped hand in his grip turned, lifted, rose to cup the hollow of one bruise-blue cheek as you lifted on tiptoes to brush the soothing invitation of a kiss to his lips.

“Promise.”

Promise promise promise. It pulled insistently at you, had you rock backward, down onto bare heels as you struggled against the tug of its tide, nodding soundlessly, unaware you were moving, being drawn along by him until you felt the rumbling hum of pleasure emanating from his chest under the splay of your hands. Felt the sweet burn of legs bent too long ease with your rocking.

Viktor’s hand had strayed up, caught a tender grasp of your throat and jaw as your hips had begun to roll, to offer him and you both a bare fraction of sweet movement. One gentle hook clawed fingertip traced tenderly over the give of the edge of your mouth and soft of your cheek with his grasp. His other stayed firm in its grip of your upper thigh, thumb picking up its encouraging little rubs again to your now hypersensitive and slicked little clit.

“Do you give up, little peach?” He was murmuring invitingly, the tone of that slithering, seductive voice insidiously knowing, well aware you’d already teetered across your tipping point. His thumb pressing his point as the tickle of his nail dragged slow across that hot little bundle of nerves, making you tense and struggle not to writhe, struggle to swallow a pleading little whimper of a noise you knew he could feel beneath the palm he had cupped to the column of your throat.

All the answer he required.

Hands fell away, and then the delicious stretched feeling of him within you was gone, as gone as the body beneath your straddle was. Only to have arms enfold you from behind, to be lifted, moved, weightless until you felt the warmth of the fireplace licking at your face, felt the soft itch of the ancient oriental carpet beneath your bare skin. On your stomach and no recollection of how you got there, Viktor caged over you, on his knees, dark head dipping as his face came pushing, shoved into the bare expanse of skin between the space of shoulder blades.

One elegantly long clawed hand caged the nape of your neck, kept you pinned as your own arms folded up alongside your head where Viktor kept you shoved to the floor, fingers digging into the old fibres of the carpet as he lavished you, mouth making a slow map of bare skin, lifting goosebumps as lips grazed, teeth pinched tenderly, as the sweet damp of his tongue tasted and toyed along the hollow trench of your spine.

This was worship, this was holy. Here in the dark, flickering flames lighting orange, dancing behind closed eyelids as you succumbed, welcomed that tender monster to make a meal of you any way he wished. Managing to get knees under you one by one, you pressed hips up, pushed the invitation of backside up against the beast caging you in, and felt the desiccated dry grip of that third arm come grabbing, gripping tightly at the plush curve of your bottom.

Slowly, unhurriedly, your lovely devil made his way down the expanse of your back, the grip of his hand leaving the nape of your neck as both hands instead took a grasp of the backs of your thighs taut enough to dent and dimple the yielding give of tender, generous flesh. That terrifying third hand slid from its own grip, dry scrape of nails raising little lines of hot fire where they scraped across skin. It caught the lace that barely covered the cleft of your bottom, grabbed hold and dragged the scant remaining protection of it aside, leaving you fully bare to the humid wash of Viktor’s breath.

Hips pressed up mindlessly, your train of thought long gone off the rails as you sank into the delicious release of inhibition, worry or shame, enveloped in the intoxicant of your sweet devil and unconscious to all save the cloyingly sweet sensations of his caress.

You could have luxuriated in it forever, floated lost within it… right up until his hands slid upward, shaped to the pretty curve of your ass, thumbs pressed to the crease where thighs and bottom met, and prised cheeks apart. The sudden wash of vulnerability had your stomach flip, had your lungs sucking a sharp breath as you felt the sinking grip of his teeth mark the inner, tender curve of one cheek, heard him murmur delight at the soft squeak it earned him.

Oh but then, then came that endless, dragging tease of his tongue. Warm and soft as it traced down that exposed cleft, rolling and slowly roiling in its wet warmth as it passed and pressed against the puckered give of your asshole. It had you gasp, had every line of you tense and shiver as he licked, toyed against that tautness.

“Would you give me this, little one?” He teased in obvious eagerness, either oblivious to your mortification or else delighting in it, “Let me have every inch of you, every sweet part?”

Heat flooded cheeks to rival that rolling off the licking flames of the fireplace you lay before, and protest died small deaths on your lips, mumbled into nothings as his tongue pressed, licked and pushed at you.

This was not a liberty you’d ever offered anyone, and not one of your former partners had ever even asked. It had your jaw clenching, teeth whining in their crush and grit together as he strayed lower, slicked along and slowly licked across your entrance to gather the dripping wet left behind from the first release he’d so sweetly offered you. Ah but that relief did not last long, not with how he strayed back up, redolent with your own heat and lubrication, to slowly, slowly slide that tongue of his within the gradual, easing give of your ass.

“Don- don’t… ah!!”

Foreign, filthy, incredibly vulnerable and above all intensely arousing, you squirmed on your knees before him. Panting, gasping each time he withdrew only to press in further, you were dying by inches, aching below where his attentions had focused, clenching hungrily around nothing as his tongue pressed more and more deeply into you. Electrifying and confusing, it had you keening quietly with each coiling slow, slippery thrust.

You wanted to demure, wanted to beg him to stop, to not… but oh.

Hot wet curling, licking pressure deep within had you moaning soft encouragement instead, had you digging fingernails into the carpet and pressing back against him. Debased and uncaring, drunk on him, for him. Begging him to do whatever he wished, however he wished, as you felt your tightness open, yield and give to the thick glistening push of his tongue.

Beneath you rough carpet teased ticklishly at the sensitive, achingly proud points of stiff nipples, the scant lace of that bodysuit long since gone awry to leave both breasts mashed bare to the floor as you writhed and rocked face down on your knees, positively oozing down your thighs for him as he ignored the eager enticement of your hungry sex in favor of tormenting you in this mortifying, gloriously debauched new way.

Horror and delight mingled until you could not untangle one from the other, until you were pleading his name, practically shouting it between stuttered, strangled moans. But he would not stop, not until bones had nearly gone to water and you were scrabbling at the carpet beneath you, hovering interminably on the verge of cumming around nothing at all. Until it would have taken just a breath of his blown over the throbbing want of your clit to send you over, or even the merciful press of a single finger within you to give you something, anything else to end this wonderful, mind-melting agony.

Only then did you feel him withdraw, and let your entire body go limp, bottom still ignominiously in the air, huffing breath and groaning softly at denial of your own release.

Not for long.

Arms came gathering, lifting. Easing you onto your side. Head found a pillow against the bend of his arm as Viktor curled himself along the back of you. Warmth at your back as inviting as the heat from the fireplace was at your front, rolling licking flames washing in soft lapping waves as you melted back against Viktor with a begging little hum.

No need.

Gathered close, he nuzzled into the spill of your hair, pressed his mouth to the ticklish little nook behind one ear. Over hip and thigh his free hand came stroking a soothing little caress before gripping, raising your top leg, prickling of claws under the crook of your bent knee.

Just enough to give him space to slot himself home once again.

There had been many times, since that first night, when he’d taken you so hard you felt sure he’d break you in half. When he’d left you so fucked out and wonderfully bruised in his hungry and enthusiastic hedonism that even standing the following day was a sweetly painful reminder of just how thoroughly he’d made you his own. You craved it, if you were being honest, reveled in the times he lost all control and the whole world dialed down to the raw need you each felt. No art or grace in it, nothing but a mindless drive to be as deeply, viciously connected as two desperate creatures could get.

This, however, was not one of those times.

No, this was slow, the way he pressed and slid teasingly between your thighs, cock slicking along wet folds as you could feel your entrance clench with each slow thrusting pass that failed to fill you, that slid right by. That cruelly adoring monster nuzzling kisses to the rising curve of your shoulder not satisfied until your hips were rocking, bucking, trying anything to have him inside you once more.

Only after you’d practically come to tears with denial did that terrible, beautiful creature of yours finally relent, pressing, easing at the throb of your entrance. No words for that delicious, hard ridged way the head of his cock spread you as he sank into you unhurriedly, had eyes rolling back in your head as you tensed outward like a strung bow from crown to the small of your back. Lids shut tight, blotting out all the world save for him, the heat of him spreading, filling, finally.

“Are we done playing, beloved…?”

That silken, beguiling echo came slipping into your ear in all its undoing glory, ruining consciousness, leaving nothing but sodden, heavy want in its wake. His third hand slid over your side, cupped up the softness of a breast as you shuddered at the horrifying sandpaper and twig feel of clawed finger and thumb pinching one tender nipple, prickling at singing skin with a twisting little tease that thrilled through you in peals of painful pleasure.

“Yes…yes!” You choked on it, near drooling, tears leaking from the tight clench of shut eyes to run hotly over the bridge of nose and drip onto the pillow made of his folded arm.

Tender, slow. Utterly unhurried in how he took you, hips rolling with a small snap at each end as you wormed and pressed to him, letting you suffer sweetly for your sins as he fucked you slow as he liked, reveling in your undoing as the stringing bliss of each slow built orgasm came one by one by one. Until you were little more than a shivering mess, core trembling and hands gone to weak shaking as he fucked you lovingly through each little ruination, letting you milk at him with each frantic little release, giving you no rest as he rocked into you, kept you keening softly to accompaniment with the deliciously obscene wet sound of your coupling.

Enthralling, every time, the way he felt both too much and not enough all at once. How he turned you into a base and greedy little thing, like beneath it all you were just that yearning, just your hunger and desire and nothing else. Distilled down to his.

The focus of each lewd, unraveling little thought; the way he dragged against you within, the way he pressed almost painfully at the zenith of every thrust against cervix, how the deafening pulse of your own blood in your ears sang his name, ran hot and thick in a soft choral thrumming just for him.

Yours, your own. Your making and undoing. The dark stain of your soul and shadowed hollows of every chamber of your heart.

Your beautiful, exquisite horror.

One hand had lifted, reached back to grab a fistfull of his hair, had him laughing softly as he suckled and bit at the red flushed curve of your ear. It felt like hours, like ages, before he finally shoved his face hard into the hollow of throat and shoulder, until he succumbed, growling softly punctuated with quiet clicking, eerie delight as hips lost their gentle rhythm, became almost slovenly frantic in their last few thrusts before he buried himself deep in one final hard drive.

Impossible to ever become used to that sensation; to the unspeakable lush heat of his release spilling out as it overfilled you, at the sweet little swell within and tautly obscene stretch you could literally feel. To the elation, the searing fire of the commingled slurry of yearning and satisfaction that quadrupled as he came within you, the way it kindled every last ounce of you, inundating and overwhelming, wiping away everything save that writhing, wringing, blinding ecstasy that spun out slow deaths in trailing, pinwheeling sparks coursing out the length of limbs, simmering to nothingness at the tips of clenched fingers and curled toes.

He was speaking, but you could not make out the words, drowning as you were, slipping into the dark, warm waters as oblivion folded around you, the incomprehensible tenor of his voice trailing after you into the welcoming maw of unconsciousness.

No idea what time it was when wakefulness found you again.

The confusion of disorientation reached you first. No fire, no rough old carpet or hard floor under your skin. The sensation of warm, soft sheets and the give of mattress, the scent of your own pillow under your cheek flooded in slowly. Your own bed. Freed of the tickle of lace or constriction of lingerie, skin bare and smoothly clean, save for a slight lingering stickiness between the sweet throb of gently swollen, used folds.

The darkness of the bedroom was absolute, the silence heavy. At your back was a soundless rumble, and the lovely circle of long limbs tangled around you had you smile sleepily as you sank back into relaxation, fingertips tracing over the open sprawled palm of one elegant hand, up along forearm in a caress that had Viktor stirring at your back, unfitting himself until you could roll onto your back and he could settle over you, the weight of him pinning you gently to the mattress. Head tilted back into the pillow to allow the lazy trail of kisses down the offering of your throat.

The delicious warmth of blankets left you as Viktor reared up, soft glow of golden eyes opening in the dark as he began to sink back down, between the spread of thighs that opened for him in silent invitation.

Somewhere down below in the dark of the house came the soft tinkling of shattering glass.

Viktor was caged back over you in a heartbeat, before you’d even half registered the noise from the depths of the house below you. The torpor of sleep fled sharply as his clawed grip scooped under you possessively, as the air in the bedroom grew thick, chill and viscerally rife with brittle rage.

“Viktor?” Sleep-thick voice strained a whisper.

“Sssshh.” The hushing noise escaped him, not soothing nor calming, but like the escape of steam between sharp teeth. “Stay here. Hide.”

“What?!” Heart hammered hard against the cage of ribs as your hands tightened their grip upon his shoulders, fear sharpening the edge of confusion to a knifepoint.

“Do not leave this room.” The hateful focus of brilliant eyes upon the closed door of the room shifted, dragged attention back to the bewilderment of your features. Felt the backs of his fingers graze your cheeks before hands took a firm hold.

“Listen to me, sweet one. Stay. Hide… Now.”

And the next instant he was gone.

You could hear heavy footfalls on the stairs, and an unfamiliar familiar voice calling, too muffled to distinguish individual words. Still, it struck you to action, obeying the simple directions Viktor had left you with. No closets, no room in the large bureau either. No time to make it to the bathroom and nowhere in there to really hide either. Up off the bed, dragging the comforter along, you wrapped up in it and dove beneath the bed to tuck up in a huddle, pressed shivering to one corner near the wall, praying to be mistaken for a pile of discarded bedclothes should the owner of that voice make his way into the room.

“Lovie…? Where you at little lovie?” That voice, clearer now in the hallway, coming closer. “Come on out, sweetheart. I just wanna talk. Really did a number on the ol’ hand earlier. Think you could make it up to me? Ya know a man works with his hands…how am I s’posed to…”

Even under the suffocating swaddling of the comforter the sudden, oppressive darkness flooded in, black upon black, blotting out any semblance of light and squeezing air from lungs like the slow wringing twist of a wet cloth.

Out in the hall the footsteps had stopped.

“What… what the fu-”

There was a scrabbling, a scrambling, a sound of frantic, blind fear followed by the deafening rush of wind and wings and a thousand gaping, gasping maws sucking all remnants of air left behind, starving sharp teeth clacking in a cacophony ivory chorus.

And then the screaming began.

Once, when you were little, you’d seen a rabbit chased by a cat. You’d watched the brown streak of it with the orange tabby hot on its tail, and a second later when they were out of sight you’d heard the shrill scream of the rabbit. The terrified pitch of it ear-splitting in its intensity with a primal, gripping panic that verged on the most intrinsic of fear made audible.

Not since that unfortunate rabbit had you witnessed a sound so alarming, so horrified; the noise of a creature come face to face with its death and begging that it were not so.

No matter how tightly you shoved the soft thickness of the comforter to your ears, no matter how hard your hands pressed the cotton batting fabric of it over either side of your head, nothing could blot out that revolting, blood chilling sound.

Time ground to a halt. It was still ringing in your ears, still as shattering and sickening as when it started. Was it coming from you, or around you? Where did you begin and the sound end? And huddled, shivering, horrified in your dark little bundle of blankets, jammed as far up under the bed as you could get, you waited, shoulder and hip bone and elbows aching against the press of the hard floor.

A hand closed on your ankle, grip tight, and pulled.

Only then did the spell break, did you realize the sounds had stopped as your own terrified shriek burst from your throat. Hands scabbling hot panic as you were dragged from beneath the bed.

“Malá broskvička, sshhh… shhh…”

No one there but Viktor, crouched long limbed beside the bed, unwrapping you hurriedly from the bundle of blankets, cradling you up, hands soothing, calming, cupping your face, drawing you in, smoothing tenderly along arms and back, cradling the nape of your neck as you pitched forward into his arms, clinging tightly, trying to quell the shaking of your own limbs with how tight you gripped him. Heart a jackhammer in your chest, like that terrified rabbit of memory had got caught beneath your ribs and was frantically trying to kick itself free.

“Viktor! What…what happened, what was that?!”

He would not answer for a long time, simply gathering you to him, cooing wordlessly or else in that language you did not understand. Smoothing your hair, kissing and thumbing away hot tracks of tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed. Until the pair of you lay upon the floor, in the crumpled mess of comforter and your panic had subsided into a bone-tired exhaustion and the knotted fear in your stomach faded to a vague nausea, until the tension had eased to a dull ache behind your eyes.

“Viktor?” You pressed again, cuddled close, fingertips trembling in little aftershocks as you touched his chin, traced the shape of his mouth. Whatever had happened had pulled the curtains from the windows, left them hanging in tattered shreds so that the silver moonlight streamed in, offering a thin, blue cast illumination to the shape of the beautiful horror cradled up against you.

“He meant to hurt you.” He murmured. “I told you.”

Told you told you told you. Blood drained from your face as you watched a sad little smile turn one edge of Viktor’s mouth under your fingers. Tried to shove aside and silence the thoughts that flooded in of what might have happened, had you been alone, truly alone in that great house.

“I will never let anyone harm you, my sweet one.”

The words were darkly reassuring, dripping horrifying promise as he turned his face from under your touch to press a kiss cool as the first frost to your forehead. One clawed hand slid from its gentle grip of your hip to span the slight swell of your lower stomach and your frantic heart stopped dead in your chest, world pitching violently on its axis at his next words.

“...Either of you.”

#viktor x reader #incubus viktor #monster viktor #viktor arcane #viktor fic #arcane fic #viktor au #arcane au #viktorxreader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor #mdni

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radiantdanvers · 6 months

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Being a Hargreeves Sibling

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #moodboard #pov #fic ideas #fic inspo #pics not mine

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hyperesthesias · 9 months

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i really want to see a fic where someone is creeping on reader, and viktor smacks the everliving fuck out them with his cane lmao

#viktor #viktor arcane #the machine herald #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane fandom #arcane fic #viktor fic #the machine herald x reader #the machine herald fic #is this fandom even alive anymore?#hello?? hello??#beuller??

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ficfanatictrf · 2 years

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In Bits and Pieces (2/3)

Viktor x Reader

Summary - Restarting the timeline, we see all the misunderstandings from Viktor's perspective. Finally getting insight on why he acted the way he did.

|| WARNINGS! - Mostly angst, descriptions of sexual fantasies, m!masterbation, murder, suicidal thoughts, and another cliff hanger||

(Authors Note - The order that it will be going is chapter 1 from the readers perspective, chapter 2 from Viktor's perspective starting a little before the first chapter, with chapter 3 being where the fluff finally comes into play for a happy ending. Currently I have the first two chapters complete, with both having cliff hangers, so if you want to wait till the third that is completely understandable)

Word Count - 9.7k Part 1 and Part 3

Chapter 2

To be honest, the first month he knew you, he felt you were nothing more than a distraction. Having believed at first that you had chosen to work with them because of your attraction to Jayce, Viktor found himself thinking the other man a fool for not seeing your intentions when he had brought you under his employ.

However, over those first few weeks he realized that it had just been your personality, that after you got comfortable with someone you acted the same with everyone else. You had simply just known Jayce a little before him since he had been the one to offer you employment.

It was only after that initial period, that he began to allow his walls down around you, a decision he both regretted and cherished.

Where Jayce was able to connect with him over their ambitious drive, their willingness to break the rules, and the fearlessness to try new things.

With you, he found himself savoring the simpler things, when you pulled him away from his work for just a moment.

Whether it was the two of you sharing a hot beverage, a short walk around the building to stretch your legs, or you asking for his instruction. It always allowed him to take just enough of a break that it felt like it benefited him without putting him any significant amount off schedule.

It had been while he was explaining a concept to you, looking over his own notes as you were above him on a ladder that he views on you changed from one of friendship to something more. You had been struggling with your own project while he discussed the concept, that was when it hit him. In a single glance, he had looked up from his own writing and swore he was looking at an angel.

The way the light framed your silhouette, the look of accomplishment on your face as you finally connected the piece you had been struggling with. And the smile you sent his way?

If he could have it painted and mounted on his wall he would. There had never been anything more beautiful and rare than that joyful grin. Simply breathtaking.

But then the meaning of what he had just experienced connected and all the world rushed in with it.

He was a partner to your employer!

He couldn’t be having these thoughts!

Till then, he would have never described himself as a weak man, but as much as he tried to distance himself from you from that day forward, every single time you gave him those doe eyes and asked for his attention - he caved. He had allowed you to worm your way into his daily activities to the point that without you they just felt hollow.

Every day he said it would be different and every day it was just more of the same. And each and every day there was only a new torturous detail about you that he would learn. He memorized the way you liked your tea and coffee, the smell of your shampoo, how every night you glanced up and smiled as you saw the moon, how you always had a look on content as you noticed the birds singing outside the window.

He was sinking further, finding himself nearly drowning in his desire to tell you how he felt.

Yet he never would.

How could he? There were so many reasons why he was completely wrong for you, and that was not even with the unlikely chance of you feeling anything but friendship for him.

He was from the undercity and although he knew for a fact you never treated him differently because of the location of his birth, he knew others would treat you differently. Their looks of distrust and scorn would be directed at you and you didn't deserve that.

Then there was the matter of his own inadequacies, he glowered at the self given term. His limitations never made him feel guilty or ashamed, but when it came to you he felt like you deserved more.

You deserved someone who could keep up with your restless spirit, someone that would carry you over the threshold after your wedding, someone who wouldn’t tire as they satisfied you in bed.

You deserved so much more than he could ever hope to give you.

You deserved someone who could dedicate themselves fully to you, instead of someone who spent days locked inside a lab.

So, even if there were signs, even if sometimes your words and actions bordered on flirting, he couldn’t allow himself to read into it. If he allowed himself to think it was possible for his feelings to be reciprocated, he would be damning you as he knew he was far to weak of a man now to let you go if you gave yourself to him willingly.

And so he tried to slowly ease his way out of your life, still failing most of the time, he felt like he was making steady progress. He had been able to keep from making plans with your outside of work for a total of 3 days and was working to his record of 5 before you asked him the unthinkable.

“Apologies, I seem to have misheard you. Where will you be going?” He asked, his hand reaching up to slide his goggles upwards off his eyes, honestly not believing what he had just heard, wanting to read your lips to make certain.

“The undercity, there are some mechanical parts I can’t find anywhere topside and so I was going to go down below to look. I was hoping you could show me around?” Ah, so he had heard correctly the first time.

You suddenly were talking faster, likely frazzled by his question. “But I can just go by myself if you don’t have the time. I know you are busy so don’t feel pressured to agree”

All alarms were going off. His options were to break his plan or allow you to go down to that cesspool alone? Alone?! From what small tidbits of information he was updated on, the area near where he had grown up had almost gone into a free fall when it came to drugs, gangs, and murder.

As a child, he didn’t believe that area was safe, but for it to be so much worse? He could never allow you to go by yourself.

“Is there anything you would like me to pick up while I am there? Any foods or-”

“I’ll take you” He quickly cut off, his plan be damned. Slapping a faux smile on, hiding the panic that he was already feeling at the prospect of taking you down there.

“It would be my pleasure to escort you this weekend”

As you smiled, clearly pleased with yourself as you went back to your own work all the while he felt like groaning in frustration. He wanted to scream, to pull his hair out, to bang his head against the surface of his desk.

He hardly got anything done that day as every time he would start to get into the flow of an idea, the thought of the weekend would come back and slap him in the face.

Things would have slowly started to become easier if Jayce wouldn’t have been sitting in the room watching the whole damn interaction! The moment his own eyes caught sight of that shit eating' grin on the good for nothing’s face, he knew the topic would be brought up later.

He needed to calm down, he was lashing out in his thoughts and this was not the time to be doing this. Calling it quits, he was already planning on coming in rather early the next day, trying as hard to keep the thoughts of just how royally he had screwed up to a minimum.

But that was easier said than done.

As he walked home and enjoyed the fresh air, he was reminded that he would need to search through his storage to see if he still had the respirator he had toyed with years ago. With you not having grown up near the type of air in the undercity, you would more than likely have a tough time breathing it comfortably.

As he made tea to try and sleep, he remembered just how happy you were when he would presented it to you at work, exactly how you liked it. It was why he had gotten into the habit of making you a cup whenever he was making coffee or tea for himself.

He had stopped doing that for over a month now, trying to rid himself of unnecessary information, unnecessary pain. He was used to being alone, he had grown up alone and he more than likely would die alone. There was no point in hurting himself with a hope that he would not allow to become reality.

That night, he hardly slept at all, his mind racing with all the worst possibilities of just what could go wrong. If someone tried to harm the two of you, he wasn’t really a fighter. He could slow them down in the hopes that you escape, but he was proficient in sneak attacks not hand to hand combat. What if after you saw a peak of what he grew up around, your respect for him diminished? If you began to look down on him too, he wasn’t sure he could live with that.

And just like he expected, the next morning as he dragged himself through the door, already on his second cup of coffee and not feeling at all better, Jayce was waiting with that same grin from the day before.

“What is it?” Viktor couldn’t help snapping, making his way to his own desk to start pulling out the papers he had been working on only hours before.

“Oh nothing nothing, just proud of you, being all chivalrous and protective.” His papers were gone from his sight, Jayce having snatched them away so that he couldn’t ignore him by working.

“So, where are you going to take them? Maybe a good restaurant?” He started, Viktor scoffing at the very idea.

“Why yes, why don’t I just take them to the Last Drop, I bet that would be the most ideal location. Why had I never thought of that?” The sass went right past the other, his own amusement being so uncontrollable that Viktor’s sarcastic nature couldn’t spoil it.

“Or maybe somewhere here in Piltover? Before you head down to get the supplies, you could meet up and have lunch? I know a couple good places and I have some pull. I could get you a reservation, come on, think of how romantic it would be”

A puppy dog pout was quickly taking over the man’s face, god he wished he had never admitted his attraction that one time months ago. Since then Jayce had been an unbearable cupid, constantly hinting and saying things that he should never do in the office of all places.

“I would remind you of our location, so keep your mouth shut” Viktor hissed, reaching out and snatching the papers back without a care that a few of them ripped in his anger, much to Jayce’s surprise.

As he turned around, he had hoped that would signal the end of the conversation. However, as Jayce continued without an hesitation, he felt a red hot rage course through him. With the lack of sleep, stress about this weekend, and once again being distracted from his work? He was about to lose it.

“This weekend I’ll have someone stationed outside, I’ll have some council business to take care of and you will be on your little date” He leaned down closer, this time remembering that they were in the lab instead of somewhere more private. “Also, if you don’t have any of your own. In my desk, second drawer, in the last file folder at the back, I have a couple back up condoms if you will be needing it”

He nearly toppled Jayce and his own chair over as he nearly jumped to his feet, his face completely red from the embarrassment of the thoughts that shot through his mind of you, as well as the rage that Jayce just couldn’t let things go! Jayce caught the chair as it tried to tip, keeping it from scrapping or skidding, silently placing it to the side.

Turning to step closer into Jayce’s personal space, he didn’t much care that he didn’t appear intimidating, he was far too irritated to let that deter him. Even still, he tried to contain his emotions from seeping into his voice, knowing that if he did, his screaming would most likely never end.

“I truly wish you would stop with your poorly made jokes. It is quickly growing to be irksome”

Instead of backing down like he should have, Jayce only continued, he himself growing fed up with Viktor living his life like he was undeserving of love. No matter how many times the subject was approached, the shorter of the two would deflect. Jayce could see the way the two of you looked at each other, he could see just how happy the two of you made the other. The fact that Viktor, the one more likely to be able to have the courage to confess was holding himself back over a fucked up mindset was slowly driving Jayce mad.

“Fine, if it isn't a date, what would you call it?” Jayce countered back, making himself taller so as to try and intimidate Viktor. The two of them just could never get it through their heads that this way of conversation just didn’t ever seem to work with their personalities.

All Jayce’s actions did was push Viktor to being more defensive, a condescending smirk taking hold of his features as he looked up at him.

“Not that it is your business, but I will indulge you.” Being the first to step away, Viktor reached out and snatched his cane from where it rested against the desk. “They asked for a guide to the undercity, it is an errand run. Nothing more”

“Yo-”

Rage was once again shooting through him, his eyes holding enough venom this time for Jayce to at least falter when his attention was back on him.

“If there had been any hint that they had asked with the hopes of it being a romantic excursion I would have declined. Now -”He took hold of the chair, hastily pushing it under the desk and causing a high pitched screech as it scraped across the surface.. “-after this unproductive and frankly infuriating conversation, I need some coffee”

Was it going to be his third cup already and it wasn’t even sunrise? Yes, yes it was. However, he frankly couldn't care at this point, he just needed some reason to get away from Jayce or he was soon going to be devising a device that would allow him to vaporize the man out of existence.

Muttering in annoyance, Viktor made his way to the kitchen. Filling a kettle with water before setting it on burner to start the rather boring process.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, his mind wasn’t on the conversation, his anger, his work, or even the weekend that had been plaguing his mind.

No, from what Jayce had just said there was only one thing that he could think about.

What was hidden inside a folder inside Jayce's damned desk.

It had been hard enough just fighting with himself to not seek a romantic relationship with you, but now to have carnal thoughts thrust upon him? He was so inexperienced when it came to feeling these emotions for other people, it only happened a few times before and for people he didn’t really see all that often. So as all the different questions raced through his mind, with such little practice at controlling them, they ran rampant.

What would you sound like? Smell like? Taste like? He remembered the little noises you would make as you struggled with your work, which now looking back over, he saw it in a completely different light.

What would you smell like under your clothes?

His coffee was forgotten as he spaced out, his mind quickly sinking down a rabbit hole. Not even seeming to realize that the kettle was screeching for his attention

Moving onto the sense of sight. There was no doubt in his mind that you would look ethereal, but he wanted to know the specifics.

Would you have freckles for him to map out?

Scars to kiss?

If he kissed down your stomach, would you squirm from it being ticklish?

How would your flesh feel in his hands?

What would your essence taste like?

Salty, like sweat?

Sweet?

And how would you look from that angle?

How would you look above him?

Below him?

While he gorged himself of your essence that he had been just imagining before?

He groaned softly at the image, not even taking a second to know he would love all of them equally.

Everything felt too hot, his breath coming out in soft pants as his legs trembled. Silently pleading to Janna, his eyes traveled down, cursing as he saw the proof of his sinful thoughts.

Grateful that it was still so early and nobody else was in the building yet, apart from himself and Jayce. He hastily moved the kettle to rest on a burner that was off, roughly turning the one that he had on off before he slipped into the nearest closet, it being unknown to him, that it was the exact one you had been in moments before.

In the past, he had taken care of his needs before, he wasn’t inexperienced in the least bit when it came to this. But he had always just treated it as something he needed to do, an annoying chore or a biological urge. It made the most sense to quickly reach completion before moving onto other things he needed to do.

But for the first time, he had a fantasy and it wasn’t helping that he could practically smell your perfume surrounding him. Not aware that it was lingering in the air because you had recently been there.

With the door blocked by his weight, feeling safe enough to not be walked in on, he allowed himself to slowly slide down the door's surface as his hands made fast work of his belt and pants.

With his hand already starting at a slow and leisurely pace, his mind raced through all the ideas that he had just had.

What did he want to imagine?

He could go straight to the extreme, allow his darkest fantasies to appear in his mind, you whispering the words, making promises that he needed to hear but would never dream of ever allowing himself to want.

He could do all that, but he still had a small amount of shame left. Because of that shame, he couldn't convince himself to image it, for now.

So he went for simple, just slight changes to things he had already seen and experienced before. It had been a few weeks ago when it happened, you had been going to lean against his desk, your hand missing the surface completely. At the time he had just been glad that you hadn’t been injured as he found you spread across his lap. Even though he had tried to help you, your movements to get up only resulted in your hands pressing against locations he still remembered now.

Viktor imagined what it would have been like if it had been intentional, imagining that his hands were actually your smaller and softer hands.

Would you be sweet and giving? Quickly bringing giving him what he desired? Or would you tease and bring him to just before the point of release over and over again?

He chose to tease himself, choosing the masochistic option with the hope that it might just relieve some of the guilt he was already feeling as he chased after his own high. Every time he felt like he was about to cum, he visualized you pulling your hands away as he pulled his own hands off himself. He imagined what your reaction would be to his pitiful state, visualizing you sneering at his trembling form. It was only after the fifth time of reaching his peak that he allowed himself the satisfaction, the release.

His vision went white, his eyes rolling back as the strongest surge of pleasure shook him to the very core. It was one of the best feelings he had ever felt, a smile starting to form as he leaned his head back against the door with a satisfied hum. His body felt like it was floating, not caring about the hot substance that was currently covering his hands.

But what goes up, must come down.

As he relished the after effects, his mind slowly began to come back to reality. As he looked down at his hands, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t do this again. He would never be able to live with himself, nor look you in the eyes ever again if he continued.

In somber silence, he cleaned up every trace that he had done anything unprofessional, guilt eating away at him as he did. So when he returned to the office and found you not there, Jayce informing him that you had called out sick, he could only thank Janna.

That night, he broke the vow he had made to himself.

He broke it multiple times.

In the darkness of his apartment he imagined you taking him in your mouth, of you riding him in his office chair and being able to take you in one of the storage closets at the college.

Every morning he swore this would be the end, working during the day while finding it impossible to look at you, going so far as to intentionally stare down at his work as you walked by.

And every night he broke his vow again, multiple times. With each night his vivid imagination concocting new and more extreme visuals. His own desires quickly silencing his guilt as he allowed his mind to travel down each and every desire he had.

So as the morning of the day he was supposed to take you on your errand rolled around, he was exhausted.

What normally should have taken him only a few minutes to put together took him almost an hour, his mind not able to keep up with where he had put such things as the respirator he had found earlier that week or even his wallet, this resulting in him being almost an hour late to your agreed meeting time.

As he rushed to their location, a part of him had been hoping that you had called it a day, it being the safest of the options. But as he saw you, your eyes sparking with excitement as you saw him, he felt the air leave his lungs for a moment. Ethereal as always.

“I apologize for my tardiness” He had started, feeling nothing by apologetic after everything he had imagined of you that week.

“I had mentioned where our errands would be taking us and Jayce figured it would be a great time to give me a list of items he needed procured for his own research” A lie. A bold face, not even a hint of truth in it, lie. Jayce had given him the list the day you had called out sick.

As the time for the bathysphere to arrive approached, his eyes were directed at the paper in his hands. As he read over the items on your list, he was glad to see that he actually had a good idea of where to find these exact parts, knowing from his childhood a man that sold just the things you would be looking for.

“I believe all this can be found at Benzo’s shop-”

His voice trailed off, eyes now taking in what Jayce was asking for. When Jayce had given him a list of parts, that the scoundrel must have known they would be difficult to find, probably believing it would be a great excuse for the two of them to spend more time together.

The thought of that moment made his anger boil once more, his grip on his cane tightening as looked over Jayce’s list again. He probably didn’t even need any of this, having just made a list to be a bothersome matchmaker. That bastard.

“These however might be a bit more tricky. Ublyudok”

The bathysphere had finished unloading and as the two entered and stood there in silence, waiting for it to begin its descent, a million memories flashing in his mind. All of the lessons he learned from growing up raced through his head as he tried to think of what you would need to know and what you didn’t.

“I will warn you. There is very little that will prepare you for the….lifestyle-” He started, images of some of his worst memories quickly flashing through his mind. “-you are about to see. You need to watch where you are going, don’t run into anyone, don’t look anyone in the eye and above all.”

Even though he trusted you, he truly did. He couldn’t risk even a fraction of a chance of this going wrong because you weren't listening. So he reached out, taking hold of your chin so that he could look into your eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t leave my side but if I tell you to run back to the bathysphere, you do that without question. Do you understand?”

With each beat of his heart, he watched, looking for any sign of a fight. If you had protested, if you had frowned, anything at all and he would have canceled this trip right then and there.

But you didn’t. You simply nodded with a look of understanding in every aspect of your features.

Slowly, he let go, looking out of the glass towards what had used to be his home.

Everything was different.

He grew up with muted colors and less filth, of both the human and substance variety. As more of this new Zaun was appearing, he felt nothing but embarrassment. This was what you were going to attribute to him? This is what you would assume he grew up around?

He cautiously glanced your way. Once, twice, before fully turning his head. He didn’t have to hide his attention as your own attention was completely on the scenes in front of you. He had seen that look before, as you marveled at one of his inventions, the desire to take in as much information as possible.

And what was the thing you were currently in awe of? His home.

Oh Janna, he loved you.

His old habits kicked in as they arrived, moving with the flow of people so that he wouldn't find himself being pushed. However, as he took a few steps away from the doorway, he blinked, noticing that you weren’t following. You weren't beside him!

Dread filled every crevice of his mind in an instant. They hadn’t even gotten more than a a few steps and he had already failed in keeping you safe? He knew you were clearly an easy mark, but had someone really gotten to you in the seconds he looked away?

Almost tripping over his own feet, the man spun around, thanking Janna once again as he saw you standing there, not noticing at first the way you were breathing uncomfortably.

“My deepest apologies, I was distracted. It will not happen again, I can assure you” He waited for you to walk out, watching as you didn’t exit quickly to join him. It was only then that he remembered the air, the fucking air!

“Shit”

Reached out to gently grasp you by the wrist, he pulled you a bit closer to himself than was needed.

“Forgive me, I should have given this to you before we descended down.”

Honestly, even though it looked like he was rushing to get the mash out, he was making a show of it, relishing in the closeness. As he placed the respirator against your face, he allowed his fingertips to trace against your skin, electricity sparking at where the skin on skin contact took place.

His hands shook slightly as he pulled them away, hoping you didn’t notice his reaction to your touch.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you, I don’t own one of these”

He should have taken the compliment and moved on, he really should have. But that didn’t stop the fact that you were literally wearing one of his works. His design was on your face and it was doing something to his insides. He had never realized that this might just be one of his preferred fantasies, seeing as you would never need one of his inventions. This image was bound to come back to haunt him in the future.

“Ah, well, you would never need one” He muttered out his thinking, frowning as he spoke his true thoughts out loud for the first time in a long while around you.

He started to lead you, going even slower than normal so that you could take in all the sights of this new place, wanting to satisfy the scientific curiosity of yours.

But, while you were looking at all the new and interesting sights and sounds, he was looking down every alley, into every dark corner.

He watched as a pair of men tracked the two of you before disappearing down an alley, more than likely planning on tailing the pair till they saw a chance to strike. A man, who just from his dress alone was clearly a pimp, eyed you up and down before whispering something to the man beside him.

This would not do.

Reaching back, he took hold of your wrist. As he picked up his pace, it helped to feel proof that you were there, that you hadn’t been taken. It allowed him to focus all his attention on slipping through the streets in an unpredictable manner as to shake off the two men that had been following.

The two had assumed that the two of you had never been there, but he had grown up in these streets, he knew the back alleys well enough to slip by them without being spotted. It was one of his talents that he developed as a child, he might not be the best at fighting, but if he could remain undetectable even with his cane, then he wouldn’t need to fight in the first place.

As he turned the corner, he had expected to see the different colored stones hanging around the building. It was concernedly different, just like everything else that he had seen today.

However, he couldn’t let you know that this wasn’t right, that already things were starting to go wrong. He was here to protect you and he took that seriously. As much as he could, he wanted wanted to keep your oblivious to the red flags everywhere, there was no reason to scare you now if in the end nothing happened.

The inside was thankfully very much the same, of course the items were different, just like how the store always had a steady stream of new products, but the types of items were still very much like he remembered it to be.

Tentatively, he shifted his focus back to you, hoping to continue to see the awe that you had been showing up till this point.

“What do you think? This place was always amazing to me when I was a kid” Was he leaving out how he used to steal items from the shop? Yes, yes he was.

Instead of responding, you had started to walk away to look around the shop, and as much as he was glad to see some signs of the good parts of his past, he didn’t trust anyone in this city to not use whatever means they had to screw you over. Keeping his grip tight, he refused to allow you to pull free, pulling you back to his side.

“Don’t wander off. Things may seem harmless here but touch something you shouldn’t and - well” He paused, seeing the small, boarding teasing smile grow on your lips. Your face was a kissable distance and damn did he want to shove you against the wall and finally find out just what a kiss with you would taste like.

“I’ll blow up” Well, shit.

He felt his lip twitch, his mind twisting that sentence into a much for perverted meaning.

“More than likely your savings will be blown up”

He watched your smile grow, you still hadn’t decreased the distance between the two of you. He had been just a second away from snapping, from throwing caution to the wind and just devouring your lips before an unknown man he had never seen before stepped out of the back room.

As soon as he took in the man, his blood ran cold. From the tattoos on his skin, to the clothing that he was wearing, there wasn’t a single thing about this man that didn’t scream that he was related to Silco.

At the time he had been younger, the man had slowly been growing in power and since then he had heard it had grown so large to completely encompass the whole underground.

“Where is Benzo?” He inquired, eyes darting at every entry and exit point around the room as he was already formulating different plans on how to get you out if things turned south. This was not what he wanted, this was far worse than he could have ever imagined.

“Gone” From the tone alone, he couldn’t help the small twinge of sorrow for the man. There was no doubt that he was dead, not ‘gone’. Though as he watched the man who was more body mods than human, Viktor pulled you protectively behind him as the man’s eyes filled with rage as he took you in.

“What’s a piltie bitch doing all the way down here?” With him leaning closer, Viktor ever so slowly started to angle the two of you, creeping millimeter by millimeter so that you would be closest to the door, with himself between you and the store keeper.

“I think we know who would be interested in some topside whore, could fetch a hefty sum”

That was definitely not going to happen. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. He hated this part of him, a part that had to be created to survive down here, but right now he was glad that he had a dark and cruel place to dip into when he needed it.

“Great way to talk to a customer” He heard you mutter, and it took everything in him to not slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shut it” He found himself hissing, directing his attention back to his target in front of him.

“Thought it would be a laugh to bring them with me. Had a few errands to run and well-” Leaning closer across the table as well, he played into the fact that many believe that he would be incapable of fighting. Believing he was harmless. “-how could I turn down the opportunity of bringing some stuck up tramp with me to scare”

Playing the part of a man who wasn’t worried in the slightest, he casually took out the two lists and laid them on the counter between the two of them. With an expect hand, he had slipped a couple coins under the paper as a bribe, sending the man as smirk as he continued.

“Was needing these parts, hopefully you are the guy that has them?”

Even if the guy in front of him was complete trash, trash still liked money. And as he picked up the papers, pocketing the money as he headed into the back room to collect what was needed, he knew that his assumption had been right.

As he waited, he was going through every action he was about to take, having a countermeasure against every reaction that he believed this brute was going to take.

The one thing he hadn’t planned for or expected, was that as the man returned and set down the box, naming the price for everything, that you couldn’t hold your tongue after the first snarky outburst.

“You’ve got to be joking? That box is not nearly worth more than half that amount” His façade cracked for a second, feeling nothing but fear as this could be the thing that screwed the outcome into both of them dying in a few moments.

Having to do something he would regret, he directed the dark, cruel part of himself at you. Forcing you towards the door, he needed to get you away from here.

He needed you to run, to get to safety before he did what he was about to do.

“Wait outside, I don’t want to hear anymore of your stupid comments or questions” He played it up, making sure that his voice carried enough so that the shopkeeper could hear. However, the moment he could create an angle that would allow him to whisper to you without the other man seeing, he took it, grasping your chin in the hopes it would remind you of earlier that day.

“Remember what I told you, run”

It killed him to turn away. As he looked away and he couldn't feel or see you, panic was starting to build in his stomach at the idea that this could be the last time he ever saw you. But as the shopkeeper was already moving around the counter, his anger fully directed at you, he put his earlier plan into action. Using the shop keepers lack of focus to make his move.

As the shopkeeper went to move past him to chase after you, he shoved his cane between the man’s legs to bring him falling to his knees. He would have preferred him to fall completely on his stomach, but this man was a fighter, so it made sense that he would catch himself.

With a heavy crack, he struck the man as hard as he could with the handle of his cane before shoving it under the man's throat.

Expertly sliding onto the man's back, he put all his weight onto the man’s back to keep him in place. Using his cane to pull with all his strength up so that he could strangle the man.

It would be slow, he knew that, but knowing never made it easier.

The man sputtered and gasped, arms flailing as his hands grabbed and punched at what they could reach. Just from a couple of the hits, he knew they would be horribly bruised in no time at all.

It took minutes, but finally the man’s struggles slowed till he was motionless, completely knocked out cold.

Gasping for breath, the smaller man fell off of the other in his haste to get away. He felt sick to his stomach, the truth of the situation he found himself in slowly sinking in.

This man had seen their faces, at this point there was no going back. If this man lived, he would give the information to Silco and from what he had heard, anyone who went against Silco ended up dead. If it was only himself that he was worried about, he would have risked the chance of Silco's wrath, but you? He could not allow even the smallest of chances that someone might come after you.

Getting to his feet, he took a moment to breathe, looking around the room for everything he would be needing. Making sure to cover his hands, so as to not leave a trace as he got to work on creating a scene that made it look like a drunken fight. He quickly destroyed parts of the shop, before coming back to the unconscious man. Taking a jagged piece of derby from the mess he had created, he returned back to his previous position on the man's back.

This man is evil. He told himself over and over again. He wasn't innocent, he was helping by doing this.

He could feel his heart racing, his breath increasing. Just do it! He told himself, multiple times bringing the jagged edge to skin before pulling it away as nausea hit.

This was for the both of them, for you, for your safety. This man wasn't a good man, there were probably many others that would be protected by his death. He was simply protecting people.

Everything he told himself did nothing to ease his conscience as he sliced the man’s throat, right over the bruise where his cane had been used to strangle him.

He had been as careful as possible, making sure the spray of blood was directed away from himself so as to not have any signs on his person. Stepping back, all signs points to this being a fight that had taken place between two brawlers. Items were knocked off shelves, furniture was broken. With the fact that he hadn't used a knife but a random sharp object from the mess he had created, it leaned more towards this not being planned in the eyes of someone who can to investigate.

With hands trembling, he stumbled to his feet. He couldn't look at the remains of the man, unable to stomach the very scene that he himself had created.

After everything was set, he took the box of parts he had come there for and slipped out of the back so as not to be spotted.

He wasted almost double the amount of time getting back to the bathysphere, wanting to keep out of the public eye as much as possible.

But as he watched the door close after him, the bathysphere starting its way back up to the surface, all the emotions washed over him.

He was glad that he was alone on the way back up, a scream ripping from his throat. One filled with rage, pain, sorrow and so many more emotions. Why did you need to be snarky at that moment? As much as he adored that part of you normally, Zaun was not the place for that if you couldn’t fight and by Janna he knew you were not equipped for a fight with trash like the men and women down here.

It took the whole ride to the surface to get his emotions under control enough to be able to look calm, even while his insides raged.

As the door opened to allow him out, he felt both relief and rage at the sight of you. You didn’t come towards him, which honestly was in your best interest as you rushing to his side might have only served to send his already shot nervous into the afterlife.

Shoving the box of parts into your arms, he hated the venom that spit from his mouth, but at the moment he just couldn’t care. You had almost been at the mercy of someone who wouldn't have blinked twice at your death. If he hadn't been there, he would have never seen you again.

You needed to understand that you were to never go back down there. From here on, if he had anything to say about it, you wouldn't set foot down there again. He wouldn't risk it. Not for the world.

“Don’t ever dare to ask me to bring you here again, don’t ask anyone. Have I made myself clear?”

He had to keep his voice low, not wanting you to hear just how destroyed it was after screaming at the top of his lungs. But you just had to continue talking, it truly being the one personality trait that was doing you no favors today.

“I’m sorry for being snarky ba-”

“You don’t get it!!” He bellowed, unable to hold his temper for the first time in a very very long time. Even as you shrunk away from him, he couldn’t reign it in fast enough to keep himself from saying things that he was going to regret the moment they left his mouth.

“The undercity is not some fun place to explore, a tourist attraction for pilties to visit for fun!”

As he used that derogatory term, he could feel a piece of him shrink inside himself. He never wanted to call you that again, you didn’t deserve that. So to keep from hurting himself and you more, he turned to head away. Having meant the next phrase to be one of regret and not of anger.

“I never should have agree to take you”

He had known that he would regret his words, but he hadn't expected to not even be able to make it a block away from where he left you before the tidal wave of guilt nearly suffocated him.

He had been so cruel, so hurtful. He wouldn't even be surprised if you never spoke to him again after the events you had gone through that day. From being threaten, to being told to run away, and now him screaming at you? He would not blame you if you hated him.

So he avoided you. He had grown to need the kindness in your eyes, that the idea of not seeing it was just too much of a risk for him to take.

Weeks after that incident, he was still wrestling with the two issues at hand when it came to you. When he saw you he was reminded of what he had done, as well as the still continuous fantasies he was having every night.

It had gotten out of hand and he knew that everyday he was just hoping that his desire for you would go away so that he could go back to being your friend, to go back to enjoying your presence without lust slipping into his thoughts.

That didn’t stop him from being worried for you however, constantly he was badgering Jayce to make you tea, to ask if you were alright. All because he didn’t feel himself deserving of talking to you himself, not when he was still having such impure desires for you. Not after he screamed at you that day so many weeks ago.

Nothing was getting better, everyday feeling like just another hellish nightmare. While he watched you crash right into his more recent project, he knew it had all just gotten worse.

You had tried to reach for it, tried to catch it, he had watched you do it. Yet, the weight pulled it right out of your hands, crashing to the floor.

Viktor felt the final shred of sanity snap.

It was not all because of you. It was the lack of sleep for months, the guilt of his own physical desires, his loneliness of missing your friendship, irritation at Jayce as he refused to help the way Viktor wanted him too, and the death that was by his hand. Everything just felt like it was too much at the moment.

“...I…I’m so sorry…I’ll fix th-”

He didn’t want to hear it.

In fact, he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone.

“Just get out” Everything felt like a dream, like he was watching all of this from outside his own body. Even as he was looking at his broken design, it wasn’t really solidifying in his mind.

“Viktor, I can fix this-”

“Oh really?” He was just too tired to care as he watched you flinch, though it would linger in his mind to be remembered later.

“And do you know or understand what it was that I was trying to create? Do you have any knowledge of my recent works?”

Fuck, he knew he was being unfair. Months ago you had known every step of his process, he had enjoyed sharing his progress with you and teaching you the things you didn’t know. He was the reason you hadn’t been able to learn anything from him.

“....no….”

You looked so small, and in the future, he was going to want to strangle this unfeeling and uncaring version of himself. There was just no excuse for how he was treating you.

“Of course not-” Moving his cane in front of him, so as to rest both hands on it, to you he seemed like he was looking down on you, like you were lesser than. When in his mind the roles were completely reversed.

“And you really believe you can fix it? You?”

As he waited for you to say something, anything, he just wanted this whole nightmare to end. Maybe it would all fix itself if you worked somewhere else.

As his hand came up to rub at his brow, he was trying to fight off the growing headache at the solution he was seeing before him. It wasn’t like you had seemed very happy being there for weeks now, the solution at the forefront of his brain seeming to be the best for everyone in the long run.

“Your work has been mediocre at best as of late and mistakes like this can’t become a regular occurrence. If you can’t keep up with the workload, it might be best if you resign”

As Jayce scrambled pull Viktor away, trying to explain how the two of them could fix this. And as much as he appreciated the effort, he just needed sleep. Excusing himself for the day, he headed home.

It was nearly 18 hours later when he woke up, having passed out in his clothes as he had just collapsed on his bed. Finally, he could look at the event objectively, seeing just how unfair he had been to you.

In fairness, after that day, he had tried to fix it. He tried to get you to take breaks, to eat or sleep, even just to leave the lab for more than a bathroom break. It was only because he started leaving food on your desk that you were eating, which coming from him was rather ironic.

But as he watched you struggle, refusing to ask for help, refusing to speak to any of them as you toiled away he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you. But he had been the one to cause it, resulting in you most likely not wanting to be anywhere near him.

So he stayed away, only silently watching from the sidelines as you continued to decline faster and faster.

Then, the fateful morning came, Viktor arriving at the lab before Jayce to find you asleep at your desk. As quietly as he could, he made his way over to your side.

In your sleep you looked so peaceful, an expression that he hadn’t seen in so long. He missed it, he missed you. As he watched your steady breathing, he wished he had never allowed himself to start pushing you away. Even if he thought it was better in the long run for you, he craved your kindness like he was dying of thirst.

After growing used to your friendship, everything felt so hollow and empty without it in his life.

He quietly went and got his chair, setting it beside your desk.

As he eased into it as silently as he could, he went back to admiring your features. He looked over each and every one, taking in every feature that he had long since admitted he adored.

With careful precision, not wanting to wake you, he reached a hesitant hand out towards yours. Softly, feather light, he ghosted his fingers over your hand, his eyes keeping watch on your face for any signs of stirring.

As he didn't see any, he got bolder, easing his hand down on top of yours to grasp it ever so softly.

For a moment, his mind was quiet. In fact, it had been strangely quiet since he had focused his attention on your peaceful expression. That realization bringing a soft smile to his face, feeling the tension that had been there for so long slowly slipping away as he looked down at the two of your hands.

His eyes caught sight of the notebook beside you, spotting a part of the page that had his name on it.

With curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out and plunked it up. From the random page that it was on, it was clear that it was a diary and although he shouldn’t be reading it. Right now, it felt like this was the closest thing to having his friend back that he was going to ever get.

So he started from the beginning, the very first entry of this specific journal being from around the time of the Zaun fiasco.

Dear Diary, I wish I had the courage to tell Viktor about the way he makes me feel so alive. I had worked on projects with many other people, but the passion he has in his work is inspiring. I feel myself growing addicted to his witty humor, the banter that Jayce and him get into, Jayce's unrelenting kindness. I've have never been somewhere where I felt like I belonged, but here I feel like everything fits so perfectly in place. I’m happy here. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time, all thanks to the two of them.

He flipped to the next page, a small smile forming at the wording that you had used. It made it clear, you had been happy here.

Dear Diary, I finally did it and Viktor accepted! I honestly can’t believe it! I have to make this date perfect.

He read over this twice, three times, five times in a row. His eyes darted over to you as you continued to sleep. Jayce had been right? Janna be damned, it had been for the purpose of a date?!

But that had been weeks ago, what were you feeling now? As he thought that question, his eyes trailed back to the item in your hands, knowing it would have the answer to that very question. Quickly, he began to devore every entry, re-reading some of them as he searched for the meaning behind your words.

It wasn't hard to follow the trend, finally starting to understand your actions in certain situations, seeing how his actions had actually been received.

There had been so many things he had misunderstood, so many things you had misread. With each passing page, he felt his heart breaking, glancing between your sleeping form and the the writing that finally explained everything he had wanted to know.

He had been about to read the last one before he heard you stir, a deep frown already set on his face as he had been reading your slow descent into depression, all at his hand.

“Finally, you’re awake”

He didn’t look away from your writing, needing to know just what you had written on the very last page that caused this one out of all of them to have tear stains.

Even if he earned your rage, even if you screamed and hit him, he had to know just what had upset you so. He had to know what it was so that he could fix it, somehow.

Janna, I am so tired. My head has been pounding for hours, I can practically feel their glares on my back and I just can’t figure out how to fix it. I’ve tried everything I can think of but nothing seems to be working. Viktor will fire me for sure. I never should have asked him on that date, I never should have allowed myself to hope that someone as brilliant, gorgeous and talented as him would ever feel anything for me - even friendship, as that prospect has passed. Maybe it would be best to leave. But then where would I go? The minute they see Hextech on my resume they are going to wonder why I left, and I say what? I left because I was too stupid? No doubt, after everything, Jayce might give a kind reference at best, but Viktor? Judging from his comments recently, he would probably only be too happy to describe all my failings. Everything I’ve hoped for and worked for in my life is ruined. I don’t know why I’m even trying anymore. I’ll fix Viktor’s work and then it will be the end. I’ll do the world a favor and disappear from everyone's attention. It isn't like anyone would notice or care, they might even celebrate my departure. I will need to find the right place, I don't want to be a hinderance even after death.

As he finished the last entry, all other emotions were pushed aside as he had a new mission. He wasn’t going to be allowing you out of his sight for the next couple of days, not until he was able to fix this slow and festering problem the two of you had created together.

For the very first time in his life, work was his second priority.

You looked exhausted and gaunt, no doubt from how much you were overworking yourself. You face had the trace of dried tears. Eyes puffy from the crying. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms, to give you the comfort you so desperately needed and deserved.

“We need to talk."

But for now, he would settle on something smaller. Moving his chair a little closer, he reached out to take both of your hands into his own, rubbing soft circles into your skin.

"-There is so much I need to explain to you. But above all, just know this. You are safe, nothing we talk about will impact your employment here and please, I could never hate you. Even if I tried."

Bringing your hands to his lips, he could feel just how much they were shaking in his hold.

"Now, to start-"

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 and Part 3

#arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor x reader arcane #arcane viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #ficfanatic #ficfanatictrf #In Bits and Pieces #viktor x reader fic

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smol-lydia · 1 year

Note

Lyds, I love your HC of Jewish Viktor. Could I entice you to write a little holiday one shot of either Viktor sharing a quiet sweet Hanukah night with his SO, or perhaps being invited to his SO’s family’s Hanukah and just being quietly overwhelmed with gratitude and joy to be sharing the holiday with a loving family?

My Irish Catholic agnostic ass is no where near qualified to write such a thing, but I’m longing to see both Viktor have a slice of holiday happiness and to see greater representation of the joy of the season in all customs and religions.🖤

YES. You have no idea how much joy it brought me to get this request in my inbox and anything for you bb. <3 <3

Shoutout to @uwuboowoo and @uniquedeerwitch and @zaunitearchives for helping me brainstorm the plot points for this oneshot in the server.

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"Kindling The Light": Viktor x Fem! Reader SFW Chanukah oneshot

(no y/n, some suggestive themes for later in the evening <.< use of Czech/Yiddish/Hebrew; there will be a note at the end with translation!)

The knock at the washroom door is soft, a quiet rap of knuckles against the worn wood, and yet you still startled a little, letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

You had been staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink as though in a trance. Not out of some sense of vanity—more the opposite; you couldn’t help but wonder if you would measure up.

“Zajíček?” Viktor’s nickname for you—apparently the word meant bunny in his native tongue—normally brings a smile to your face and color to your cheeks.

Tonight, your nerves get the better of you.

“I’ll be right out,” you reply through the door.

“I was just making sure you’re all right,” he says, and though you can’t see him, you can imagine the wrinkle in his forehead as he knits together his thick, dark brows in worry.

That was Viktor at his essence: the gentle assistant to the Dean cared far more than he let on, and worried constantly over those he loved.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Promise.”

You won’t give him any reason to think otherwise, smoothing down your dress. It’s a black ruffled thing, tying at the waist with a sash, printed with small fuschia blooms. The finest thing you own; tying up your hair with a big fuschia bow. Sheer black thigh highs and black heels, your only formal heels you drug out of the back of your closet.

You open the door and based on Viktor’s expression, those thigh highs were definitely the right choice. His honeyed eyes widen taking you in, pupils darkening with desire as his gaze travels up your legs to the (admittedly) shorter hem of the dress, which hits mid thigh.

You glance down at the floor.

“Should I put on something else? I could—“

In a few steps, he is by your side, grabbing you by the waist with his free hand.

Viktor’s breath is warm against your neck. “Don’t you dare,” he whispers in your ear.

His hand on your waist burns through the fabric of the dress and you feel lightheaded as though you’ve had cups of wine already. And then his teeth catch your earlobe; your knees nearly give out in response.

“Vitya—“ Your voice has gone from thin with nerves to thin with need, yearning coiling in the pit of your belly.

“Yes, my dove?”

His hand has moved from your waist to tracing the line of your jaw down to your collarbone, teasing right above your bodice. His mouth has moved too, letting go of your earlobe to press the lightest of kisses against your exposed shoulder.

Viktor is an attentive lover, always has been from the moment your relationship changed from colleagues to….well, more. And somehow his attentions always make you feel as though he’s worshiping your body for the very first time.

“Our guests will be here any minute,” you remind him, loathe as you are to do so, your own head in the clouds as you want nothing more than to pull Viktor into the bedroom and finish what he’s started.

But it’s the first night of Chanukah, and his family is arriving to celebrate with the two of you.

“They can wait,” he growls in an undertone, and that voice goes straight to the aching need that's settled between your legs, leaving your lace underwear damp.

He kisses you hard then, your hands reaching up to knot themselves in his thick, messy dark hair, savoring the groan he lets out when you tug.

Lust drives you forward in moments like this but you feel like your heart will burst with the love you feel for Viktor, both now and every other moment the two of you are together.

Sometimes you can hardly believe that the inventor feels the same way about you—the foundling from Zaun who knows nearly nothing about your family of origin. A quintessential street kid who grew up into an untamed adult that somehow succeeded despite the odds.

You heard, in the foundling home, that one of your parents belonged to the same ethnic minority as Viktor did, but unlike Viktor you never grew up in the culture. You know nothing of the traditions or language. Your other parent was a native Zaunite, which is where you get your bright hair from.

Viktor never judges you for your lack of knowledge about the culture you both share; rather, he’s eager to help you learn, to experience all the things you never got growing up in the foundling home.

Hence why he volunteered to host the first night of the holiday at the small apartment the two of you share; his extended family making the trek Topside.

“Mílačku, držíš mi celé srdce.” His fevered kisses have left you both breathless, his forehead pressing against yours, hands tracing over the ruched fabric of the bodice of your dress. Your arch into the touch, unable to suppress the mewing sound that slips out.

The sound of the doorbell startles you both. You jump back as though you’ve been caught, cheeks burning.

It takes Viktor a moment to respond; he blinks slowly, waking from a dream, almost intoxicated on you.

“I’ll get the door,” he says quietly, and you nod, smoothing down your dress.

“Vitya!” A gaggle of dark haired, honey eyed cousins pile into the small apartment, all babbling in their native tongue and the language you speak here in Piltover. At the tail end of the pack is an older woman with silver hair braided down her back, dark eyes sharp with sarcasm and wit.

This, you knew, was Viktor’s Savta, the woman who raised him after the death of his parents. A knitted black shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, a patched grey apron hanging on her hips.

She carries a small crockery jar in her arms lovingly wrapped in an old scrap cloth. Viktor towers over her in height but as he bends down to give her a kiss on the cheek and take the jar from her, it’s clear she misses nothing.

“Put it on the counter, Vitya, it’s for the frying,” she says. “And you have hidden this beauty from us for so long! Ach! Useless boy. Never comes home to visit, doesn’t bring his girl home….”

Something stirs in your chest at being referred to as his girl—yes, you’re your own independent person; Viktor would never consider you anything but. Even so, there’s a part of you likes the sound of it.

“Hello,” you venture.

Much to your surprise, Savta pulls you in for a hug. “What a shayna maydel. Call me Savta.”

You don’t know what she’s said to you but it sounds like a compliment.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Can I help in the kitchen.”

“Yes, yes.” Savta waves her hand. “You and Sonja will peel potatoes. Sonja!”

One of the dark-haired cousins, this one tall and thin like Viktor, who has been engaging him in some animated talk, leans in.

“What?”

“Come into the kitchen. You’re peeling potatoes for the latkes.”

“Aw, Savta, really?”

“You know this is part of the process, Sonja.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You can annoy Vitya later.”

“Oh, I’m certain she will.” Viktor gives you one of his rare smiles and it has you glowing as brightly as the oil lamp in the window.

It turns out that Savta and Sonja make quick, light work of peeling the potatoes you bought at the market in Piltover the day before. You are not as adept with a knife—even when you were growing up in Zaun the blades made you nervous and shaky.

Still, neither of them comment on your shoddy potato peeling skills, and you’re thankful.

“So how did you and Vitya start dating?” Sonja asks you.

Her amber eyes are full of curiosity and you can’t really blame her. You remember being her age—sixteen—and caught up in romantic daydreams.

You sigh. “I started in the lab as an assistant, actually. Recommended by Professor Heimerdinger—I didn’t know it at the time but I had actually taken Viktor’s job as the Professor’s assistant after he had left the position. If you work on campus you get a tuition waiver, you see. And if you don’t have the benefit of a patron….”

“There aren’t many people from the Undercity at the Academy, are there?” Sonja tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “Vitya says he’ll pay for my education if I want to go. With the HexTech profits.”

You smile as you set aside a potato. “Do you want to?”

Sonja nods. “Very much. Anyway, keep going.”

“Well, I started at the lab. My specialty is ancient languages, so I was helping Jayce and Vik translate some of those runes.”

Your heartbeat picks up as you think of that first day in the lab, when you met Viktor. You had been drawn to him immediately but he was cold, distant.

“I actually thought he disliked me at first. It took me a few weeks to gather the courage to ask Jayce one day when we were working alone together if Viktor hated me. And he told me no, he just doesn’t socialize much.”

Sonja rolled her eyes. “Believe me, you would know if Vitya disliked you.”

“Eventually, he and I spent more late nights working together than Jayce and I ever did. And it turns out Jayce was absolutely correct. Viktor…well, you know how he is. Incredibly intelligent, very focused on what he’s doing. And I….” You feel the warmth rise in your body as you speak. “I kept my feelings to myself the entire time, convinced they were one sided.”

“But they weren’t?” Sonja puts the last potato on the bowl.

“Sonja, get an egg and the meal out.” Savta says, hands on her hips, and the teenager does as she’s told.

The older woman cracks the egg into a bowl, mixing it in with the shredded potatoes and the matzo meal to create a mixture. “See, my dear, now we get the schmaltz for the frying.” Savta points at the crockery jar she had brought with her and you hand it to her.

She scoops the schmaltz into a cast iron pan on the stove, watching it heat up.

“They weren’t,” you say to Sonja, continuing the story. “We were pulling an all nighter, Viktor and I. He had made coffee the way he always does, and we drank far too much of it. Kind of made me manic and at some point around 3 am we went from translating runes to….I don’t even know. Joking? And somehow the jokes got wilder and wilder and I can say it was the insanity of it all but I just—I felt something. Like the crackle in the air before an intense summer storm? I don’t know what came over me but I just leaned in and kissed him. I was starting to apologize and he told me…that it wasn’t necessary.”

Sonja took a handful of the potato mixture and flattened it between her palms, putting it into the frying pan with a plop!

“For the record, Vitya is a dork, but that’s a sweet story and I like you.”

You laugh. “Thanks, I think.”

The latkes fry quickly and smell like heaven; in no time the kitchen is crowded with cousins clambering for a taste, shooed out by Savta who tells them to wait until she’s done cooking.

“Set the table, Vitya,” she says when Viktor wanders in, tempted by the smell of the food.

Soon enough there’s a plate stacked high with the potato pancakes, you’ve run out of the mixture, and Savta has you scooping the applesauce and sour cream you bought at the Piltover market into small glass serving dishes.

At the table, food and wine flows freely, Savta intoning the bracha for both before everyone is served. Over the food and chatter, Viktor reaches over to squeeze your hand, or give you that sweet smile that has your heart turning over in your chest.

Your refill his wine glass more than once and the alcohol brings a pretty flush to his pale skin; his eyes glassy as he grows tipsy.

He leans in to whisper in your ear in a low tone.

“The things I am going to do when we are alone for the rest of the evening,” he murmurs, the scent of sweet wine hitting you strongly, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your body, heat coiling between your thighs.

The younger cousins have gathered on the floor by now, playing some sort of betting game that involves small candies and ginkgo nuts, a clay top spinning between them.

“Let’s light the candle!” Sonja jumps up once the dishes are cleared, turning her attention to the silver chanukkiah that Viktor had pulled out of a cupboard a few days previous. It had belonged to his parents, he had told you.

“Let Vitya do it, Sonja,” Savta says.

“Aw.” Sonja pouts.

“She can if she wants,” Viktor offers, and Sonja beams.

“Wait!” Sonja pauses. “Why don’t both of you do it together?”

You bite your lower lip. You don’t know anything about the ritual, and the shame threatens to choke you.

“I—I don’t know the words,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes.

“I’ll help you, Zajíček.” Viktor gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and you give him a tight smile.

“All right.”

“Repeat after me,” he says. “First we light the chamash, the lead candle. That candle will kindle the light for the first night’s candle.”

You nod, and Viktor strikes the match, lighting the chamash, and handing it to you to light the first candle in the chanukkiah.

“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech haolam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Chanukah.”

The words are a struggle and you want the ground to open you up and swallow you, and yet, there’s a part of you that feels connected, your and Viktor’s reflection in the flickering of the candles, displayed prominently in the apartment windiw. Viktor presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“My love,” he whispers, quietly enough that only you can hear him and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

It’s later, after his family has gone home, that he gives you your gift. You had gotten him a soothing ointment for the aches and pains he gets in his joints and with the rough edges of his leg and spinal brace, the gratitude in his face evident.

You open the small box, genuinely with no idea what he’s gotten you. You gasp at what you see: a hammered silver necklace with a small HexTech blue crystal in the center. The silver has been shaped into a six pointed star, a shape that’s associated with Viktor’s people—yours too, you suppose, even if you struggle to claim your seat at that table.

“It’s beautiful,” you manage to choke out, completely overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

“May I?” He asks, and you nod.

He fastens the necklace on you, and presses kisses down your neck; you sigh in pleasure.

“Now, my love…” he pauses to leave a bruise of a love bite and you gasp. “I want you in bed, wearing nothing but that.”

“I think I can make that happen.” You take his hand, gently tugging him towards the bedroom.

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Glossary/translation:

Mílačku, držíš mi celé srdce: you hold my whole heart

Savta= grandmother

schmaltz= chicken fat; kosher alternative for frying; common in eastern europe Jewish culture; honestly i'v had french fries fried in it and its bussin

Shayna maydel= pretty girl

Bracha= blessing; there are specific ones said for wine bread, other food, etc

Chanukkiah= so I think most non-Jews think this is called a menorah. but a menorah only has space for seven candles. a Chanukkiah has space for 8, plus the chamash, so technically nine.

The blessing Viktor and his S/O say over the candles: Blessed are you, Adonai our God, ruler of the Universe, who commends us to do the mitzvah of kindling the Chanukah light.

#viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader fic #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #viktor imagine #arcane fanfic #my fic writig #my fic

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delacoursshp · 9 months

Note

Hii I came across your fred fic and i have to say that it was really amazing ! I saw that you were taking requests and i was wondering if you were down to write either a victor krum smut where the reader is close to the golden trio and a bit jealous of the relationship him and Hermione have, but ends up being invited to the Yule Ball by Viktor, or a brother's best friend smut fic with Fred where the reader is Ron's best friend and stays a lot at the Burrow and secretely becomes Fred's gf but get caught by Ron and are forced to reveal their relationship.

Have a nice day, sorry if there's any mistakes, english isnt my first language !

oh myy dayss. i love both ideas! i chose the viktor krum smut bc my boy needs more attention. i think this is longer then i wanted it to be, i got carried away😭 but here you go love!

viktor krum x fem reader

"my jealous girl."

- use of y/n, jealous reader, reader is friends with the golden trio, both are of age, yule balllll😍😍

warnings: smut, 18+, doggy, oral (f receiving), rough but loving viktor, love-making, dirty-talk bc we need to hear our mans sexy accent.

you were sat with your friends, neville, seamus, harry, ron and hemione; the 4 boys were gawping at the triwizard cup. you rolled your eyes at them, and you started a rather hateful conversation about mrs trelawney with hermione.

you never really found the triwizard cup that interesting; yeah, it was cool and yeah, anyone who won the cup would be one of the bravest people alive, but whatever.

a lot of people entered the entrance hall, admiring the blue object. one particular figure caught your eye. the buff, burly yet skinny visitor; viktor krum. your eyes stayed glued on him. yesterday, when he first made his appearance at hogwarts, before you even knew he was an amazing quidditch player, you already had a big crush on him. he was exactly your type. for a split second, his deadly eyes caught yours too. he savagely strutted towards the cup, stepping inside of the age circle.

he dropped what looked like a small piece of paper into the cup, and an enormous flame flew upwards, calmed down and his mates were cheering.

viktor smirked proudly; it looked like his eyes were fixated on you again. you almost blushed, and glanced at hermione, who was smiling at someone opposite of her. following her eyes, you saw viktor again, who was now smiling a lot brighter, and winked at.. hermione? the two didn't break eyecontact, until fred and george caught everyones attention.

you felt a sort of unease rise up within you. it felt like an itch, that you were unable to scratch, or a knot in the stomach that wouldn't let go. the feeling wouldn't go away, and you started to feel like it was becoming visible on your face.

you stood up, muttering a 'see you later' to your friends and hurrying off to the gryffindor dormitory.

you sat down on one of the scarlet red sofa's, grabbing a book and began "reading", although the book was held upside down. your face was heating up, your brows were furrowing and your nostrils stood flared. why hadn't hermione told you something was going on between her and krum? or was there even something going on? well it certainly seemed so didn't it?

tumultuous thoughts relentlessly raced through your head. your grip on the book hardened so much, the pages started ripping.

the bell rang.

you almost forgot that you still had one last lesson today. you dropped the book on the floor and rushed to your next class. everyone was already seated, and you went to sit next to hermione, who was sat behind ron and harry. she looked at you as though worried, as you were taking your books out of your bag.

"y/n, are you alright? you dissapeared just like that, earlier." she had this merciful expression glued on her face, and you smiled and muttered 'fine, i'm fine' to relieve the tension from her sad face, but you also still felt uneasy being in the presence of someone who possibly liked someone you did too.

once the lesson had finished, you stuffed your books and -about the 7th time this day- a work sheet into your bag. you immediately walked off. "hey- y/n! wait up, will you?" ron yelled. great, you thought. just perfect. hermione was the first out of three to catch up with you. "are you sure you're fine?" she asked. you sighed.

"hermione, what is between you and krum?" you spit spontaneously. she looked at you as if flabbergasted, then said, "well, me and viktor are kind of, you know, dating."

'what?' you thought.

"right." you replied blankly, nothing else could come out. they're together? this only made that irritating storm inside you worse, like you were about to puke.

you walked with the three of them to the dorms, staying quiet. on the way, you glanced at one of the yule ball posters. 'now who am i gonna ask?' you thought. of course, there were lots of other boys willing to ask you. but you didn't care. you thought you had a chance with viktor. how stupid, too. of course he'd already have someone, considering his reputation.

you realized the four of you stood before the fat lady, who was whining about something that sounded like 'that longbottom child.' hermione muttered the password and she, ron and harry stepped in, except for you.

"actually, guys, you go ahead. i'm just gonna go fetch neville, he's probably stuck again somewhere." you lied. they nodded in agreement and hermione yelled 'bye!' as the painting closed. the fat lady looked confused at your presence. "my dear, i've already let you in. i don't suppose i have to-"

"no, i'm going." you spoke quickly, not being able to bare another one of her rants.

you made your way down the frustrating stairs. instead of actually fetching a probably struggling neville somewhere, you went to the triwizard cup. you just stared at it, the blue light radiating on your skin. there were barely any people here, most of them still had lessons to attend.

you rested your head on your hand, focusing on the blue flames, waiting for anything to happen; even if it was the most impossible thing ever; viktor krum asking you to the ball.

just then, viktor entered the hall. great. he sat down next to you. you avoided his eyes, but your breathing was far from slow. it was awkward, but comforting. having him close to you. sad that nothing more than that could ever happen, as you wouldn't betray your friend.

then, viktor inhaled. a shaky, sort of inhale. "y/n" he spoke.

'y/n? as in, me?' you thought.

"what?" you said, still avoiding his gaze. it wasn't supposed to come off rude, but you just couldn't look at him. he sighed, in a nervous way, then spoke words you'd never thought would come out of those beautiful lips.

"y/n, would you like to go to the yule ball with me?"

you gasped softly, eyes widened and immediately averting your gaze from the cup, to viktor. of course you wanted to say yes, but what about hermione? you were truly confused. so he wasn't going to ask his own girlfriend?

"viktor," it felt weird to say his name infront of viktor himself. "what about hermione?"

viktor pursed his lips, "we are no longer something. i broke it off with her just now. she was pretty, yes, but i do not want her. i've always wanted you. i know you want me too, right? i see it whenever i am with hermione. your face goes murderous."

you laughed in embarrassment. "oh, please. i don't want you that bad."

"sure, y/n. but... what is it? yes or no?"

"it's okay, y/n. it really is. he apologized. though you should've told me earlier that you liked him!" hermione assured. you had told hermione everything about what happend. her reaction was relieving.

"i know! i still feel bad, though. who are you going with?" you asked. you truly felt bad that viktor just ended it with her like that. hermione grinned. "oh, no worries, i've got someone." she said mysteriously. you both let out loud laughter at her tone of voice.

"'mione! c'mon, tell me!" you begged. "well, he's a hufflepuff, brunette, handsome. good at quidditch." she whispered. you thought deeply. hufflepuff.. brunette.. good at qui- "DIGGORY?" you gasped. hermione shushed you while chuckling and nodding her head. "we're both some lucky girls, aren't we?"

bang! the door slammed open.

"hermione! y/n! we've already found dates!" it was ron, harry next to him. "i suppose you haven't yet. that's okay, you can take eachother!" he teased, both boys chuckling. "i think all the best guys are unavailable by now-"

"mind you, ron, we've already gotten dates. the best ones, too." you said, grinning.

hermione laughed at rons dumbfounded expression.

"what? who?" ron squeaked.

"i told you, the best ones." you repeated, giggling with hermione.

"pfft, alright then, don't tell me! like i care!" ron said angrily before storming off, a smirking harry behind him, looking back at you and hermione.

you winked at harry then playfully shoo'ed him away with your hand.

"atleast harry got it."

it was the day of the yule ball. everywhere you went was excited murmuring; girls talking about dresses, boys sharing which girl they were gonna take, and even staff giggling happily.

the lessons were shortened to give students more time to get ready for the ball. once all the lessons finished, you, hermione and ginny rushed to the girls dorm to get ready. hermione wore a beautiful, soft pink gown, a light tint of red lipstick, and her hair done in a glossy, tight hairstyle; your almost empty, abandoned bottle of sleekeazy's hair potion finally came in handy.

ginny was also allowed to go, since she's been asked by neville. she wore a white-beige dress with a gorgeous tiara.

then there was you, you were wearing a long, tight, glimmering dress that revealed your back, neck and shoulders. your hair sat loose, shining. you haven't ever felt prettier.

the three of you admired eachother and giggled, before making your way to the ball.

you were greeted by viktor, who was wearing a red suit of rough material. "you are beautiful." he said. you smiled up at him as he offered you his hand. you took it, and the both of you walked off to the ballroom with the other contestants and their dates.

after a while of dancing, viktor suddenly took your hand and walked to an empty, faraway space in the ballroom. "viktor, wh-" he shushed you with a deep kiss before you could finish your sentence. his hand crept up your waist and you leaned into his touch. the kiss ended rather difficult and sloppily, since both of you didn't want it to stop.there was a moment of just examining eachothers facial features, lust and need filling the air so quick, that your pants were being heard. your heart was beating so fast you were sure viktor could hear it.

"come on." he said, and you had no choice as he brought his arm around your waist and forced your steps to follow his.

"viktor, are you sure we can just leave the ball like that-"

"shh. in here." he said firmly. he pulled you into a barely lit, small messy room. it looked like an abandoned cupboard. your eyes wandered around the room for a second before viktor had you by the waist again, connecting his wet lips to yours once again.

it didn't take long for his rough hands to slide down to your butt. he squeezed the perfectly round cheeks, making you whimper into his mouth. he kissed you harder, deeper. you backed up on instinct. he followed, still in the what seemed like an endless make-out session. your back was now against the door, and viktor snaked his hand behind your back, easily unzipping your dress. you broke the kiss, gasping for air. viktor now had his attention on sliding your dress off, slowly. teasing.

"viktor.." you whined. it was supposed to be warning, but it came out desperate. and you were. who could blame you, when his lips felt that good.

he bent his head forwards licking a stripe up your throat and then kissing around your earlobe. he sucked on a spot by your jawline, making you let out a high-pitched gasp. "i love your little noises." he whispered into your neck. your dress finally fell off, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"ohh, fuuck." viktor mumbled, as he raised his head from your neck, eyeing your body. you automatically moved your arms to cover up yourself, but viktor grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and held them above your head.

"don't do that. you are perfect." he said, his other hand playing with the waistband of your underwear. you thrusted your hips forward, impatiently waiting for him to give you something.

he chuckled at your antics. he slid your underwear off and turned you around. your hands clawed at the door material, as krums back locked you tightly to the door. you heard the faint sound of a belt buckle unlocking, and you let out a sigh of relief. viktor smacked your butt one last time, making you squeal. you cursed your current position for not being able to see how his pants and boxers slid off. he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, swirling it around the little hole.

"viktor, please." you softly said. viktor chuckled darkly, kissed the back of your neck and held your wrists behind your back. he entered you slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. he stopped at the hilt, pulled away fully, then pushed back inside completely, making you cry out.

"so sexy." he moaned, biting at your neck. he started a slow, passionate pace, which didn't last long. you gasped loudly as he sped up, faster and faster, until wet skin-slapping noises were to be heard.

your moans did not only increase in volume, but in amount as viktor let go of your wrists to hold your throat tightly. your head now fell completely limp onto his shoulders, eyes shut. his other hand moved to your bra, clicking it open and letting it fall off.he played with your breasts, in a way they jiggled every now and then. "fuck, viktor! don't stop.." you screamed, not caring as the music from the ball was far too loud for anyone to hear you.

"thaaat's it. cum on my cock, beautiful." his words sent shivers down your spine, one in particular that sent shockwaves to your core.

he retreated his hand from your tits, lowering it to your thigh. he squeezed the flesh before lifting it up so he was tip was probing at your cervix.

"oh god- ah!" your voice was barely working anymore, as you were close to your orgasm and mainly because of viktor grip on your throat. "i'm, i'm-"

"go on." he said, his voice sounding strained. "please, baby." this sent you over the edge. you shook and choked on your own moans. the feeling was nothing like you had ever felt before. with the little strength you had, you reached for viktors hair and held onto it, to express your gratitude. he grunted in amazement, once again placing kisses along your jawline as you came down from your high. "my jealous girl."

your legs felt like jelly, so viktor muttered a spell that shoved the junk away to a corner of the room, making space for you to lay down. he picked you up and followed you down onto the floor. he was placing kisses all over your body, making you sigh in sensitivity. then he reached your stomach, licking around your navel and kissing it. tiredly, you smiled at him. he grabbed your legs and moved them just slightly upwards, making you wince. viktor then stuck his tongue out, before letting it dissapear into your cunt. "oh, viktor." you moaned.

the new level of overstimulation made you squirm and gasp for air. it felt so good, but it was too much. he licked you clean, his tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves, and dancing along your entrance.

"hmmhh.." was all you could let out, as he finished with a kiss to the clit, and sat up on his knees.

viktor watched you intently as you got up on your elbows, too exhausted to move any other muscle in your body.

"look what you did, krum." you said playfully. he just smiled in return, looking rather proud.

"next time, you reward me for it, yes?"

.・。.・゜✭・

a/n: no bc, LOWKEY in love rn. i love love loveeee this idea, and i'm so grateful i got to write this. anywayss, hope you enjoyed! <33

.・゜゜・

- sincerely,

@delacoursshp

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ursawastricked · 1 year

Text

Distracting: Part 2

Viktor has been harboring guilt over his accidental thievery of your used champagne glass. At least he had the security that you were none the wiser..that doesn't change that your even harder to ignore now that he spent the weekend studying your lip print

warnings: More of Viktor's developing crush on you, lots of flashback to after the party, him being soft, some VERY mild suggestive stuff..don’t worry more is to come in the next part

Read part 1 here

Word count : 2,339

“Is the sun always that bright?” Viktor whined, covering his gaze as he hurried over toward the window, leaning toward it and squinting disaprovingly at the sunny world beyond it, before pulling on the shades and banishing the light. His head didnt exactly pound anymore, but he had a way of ending up hung over whenever he drank, call it his low weight, or the fact that his anatomy consistently seemed against him, if there was alcohol, it hurts the next day.

“I think it always stays like that Vik '' you answer, earning an unimpressed glance your way as he limps toward his desk and places down his bag. You stretch your arms upward, humming lightly as you feel the satisfying crackle in your spine and knuckles. You personally, feel wonderful. After the party over the weekend, you peeled away your dress and were fast to slip into a hot bath, allowing for your sore muscles to relax and let you practically fall into a perfectly restful weekend. You dont recall too much other than resting on your couch, reading the current novel that had infected your every thought, one you had also slipped into your bag for today when the lab was getting a little boring.

“Ugh..” You hear Viktor let out a relch at the sound of your joints popping, “Why, every morning..That isnt good for you, and it is worse to listen to” He lectured, placing himself in his chair, slowly turning to face you so that his point would get across. You mimic him immedietly, a practiced motion, turning to face him, and mirroring his posture and how his fingers laced together on his knee. He flashed yet another disaproving look, this time punctuated with a, “Rude”.

You snicker lightly, returning yourself to face your desk. Unpacking your bag only takes another minute or so, that moment remaining silent as you and Viktor set up for today's work load. The silence was normal, especially with Viktor, but that's why you liked working with him. While you could spend hours talking with Jayce, bouncing back and forth in a hyper focused frenzy, you much more enjoyed the comfortable silence of working next to Viktor. You had developed a ritual of passing back and forth materials and tools as you worked simultaneously on projects.

He was always respectful, never intentionally touching you without reason, and if he did bump you, he was quick to apologize, which you enjoyed only because of how flustered he got when he began to stumble over words so fast he began to slip into his native language. Or when he would tap you lightly with a pencil, and you would turn to see what he needed, only for him to lean over your notebook and scribble something down, like a warning before he did so.

You had caught yourself memorizing his little mannerisms over time, keeping a small tally at the top corner of your pages for every time he had tricked you into letting him fix a note, or murmured a word you didnt recognize when fidgeting with a new project. It relaxed you, like a little grounding tool to keep your mind occupied when you had tired yourself with your work, a healthy distraction. So you lazily flipped open your notebook to the current page, doodling a little box for today's tallies before pulling the sheet off your current project and beginning your busy work. Viktor sat quietly as he began his project, as usual. He had just gone for his wrench when he caught movement in the corner of his eyes, a familiar motion he had memorized, you're playing with your hair again. His gaze tracks the motion, how the tufts flutter about, if he was closer like last time, he was sure he would be able to smell the shampoo you used again..if he was correct in assuming, it smelt like honey. He didnt notice he was staring until you turned your head and caught him. Your eyes lock with his golden gaze for a short moment, a blissful second of eyecontact between you, before he caught it and you watched his gaze flicker around, his head turning swiftly before settling back on his work and his form shrank down far too close to his project to be safe, but successfully he had avoided the chance of you seeing how harshly his face darkened red. His breath was shaky, as he struggled to keep it low enough that you coculdnt hear. How frustrating, it had been getting harder to avoid your prying eyes, more tedious to avoid you catching him logging your smiles, and even harder to keep up conversations without smiling too much, and you had only added another level to it with that damned glass. That weekend, he had smuggled that stupid glass away from the party. He didnt know why, in fact he was sure it was a trance when he walked into him and Jayce shared an apartment, only to find the empty champagne glass still tucked in his palm. Jayce locked the door as Viktor considered what could have happened to end up here, now a thief..through the glass couldn’t be too expensive, it felt rather cheap.

“What's that you got there?” Jayce asked, leaning over Viktor and causing him the flinch, almost hard enough to send the delicate glass shattering across the floor. He gripped it tighter, giving one of his famously annoyed glances. Jayce lifted his brows, motioning specifically toward the rouge lipstain at the edge.

“Oh? Oh hoho..that color there looks pretty familiar” Jayce had started to tease, his chest was starting to bob with a deep chuckle, the kind he had always given when he was preparing to tease him.

Viktor felt the stab of anxity in his stomach, looking quickly between Jayce’s knowing gaze and the glass before he squirmed a bit away, trying to hide away in his room, fast.

“I dont want to talk about it.” He insisted, tucking away into his room and quickly hiding away the used glass in his closet with a slam.

“Talk about what? Did they give it to you or did you mean to steal it?” Jayce practically howled as he leaned into Viktors room, watching as his friend as he struggled to undo his tie with furious aggression, only getting more incense the longer he struggled. With a loud huff he finally undid it, now wrestling with his shirt vest,

“I didn’t mean t- I didnt steal it from them” He insisted, pulled off the vest before landing on his bed and taking off his shoes, “Oh..so you're not denying it anymore?” Viktor froze, his hands ceasing shakily over his cufflinks. Jayce smirked teasingly, suppressing another laugh until Viktor flung a loose shoe toward him. He quickly took the hint, “Okay! Okay! Good night loverboy-” He laughed, slipping away and leaving Viktor flushed violently and gripping his hair as he fell back into his bed.

At least now he could let his face cool down now that you were no longer watching him, it of course was easier to work and ignore you for a few minutes at a time. Until..

“Hey guys! Sorry I'm late,” Jayce hollered, bursting through the door, nearly tripping over the doorway and spilling the offering of coffe for the trio.

Yes, Viktor was screwed now. Jayce knew, he dditn know to what extent, but he did know. He knew about the glass.

“Here ya go,” Jayce chirped, handing you a coffee with that stupid winning smile.

“Aw, thanks ya goof. You know, you could just not be late, then you wouldn't need to get us coffee every monday.” You explain, sipping the drink as you watch him float off toward Viktor who had frozen solid since the door opened.

“Then I would miss out on your winning smile, you have a very special smile when you get surprised by coffee” He replied, twirling around to the other side of an unresponsive Viktor. He placed the cup beside his friend's hand, leaning over his shoulder to whisper where you couldnt hear.

“I got you the same order, in case you want to ‘swap’ cups again,” He hummed, almost getting hit as Viktor swatted him away. Jayce snickered quietly, slipping away to his own work.

Viktor sat staring at his coffee for a few moments, regrettably reaching for it. Coffee was essential, how unfortunate that it was a gift from Jayce..he drank it non the less, pressing his lips to the lid and gulping down a few mouthfulls and returning finally to an average working pace.

“Vik? Are you there?” Viktor snapped out of his focused state, turning toward the sound before pulling off his goggles and finding you much closer than he expected you to be. You stoof next to him, leaning a little over his side after spending the past minute or so trying to get his attention. You tilted your head, giving an amused huff as you slipped some papers to his desk. “Thank Janna the fire alarm wasn’t going off, you would be cooked by now.” He blinked, glancing from you to the papers a few times before turning to read them better. He pulled them from the table, acutely aware of the fleeting warmth your hands had left.

“Hmm..yes, and I'm sure in wouldn’t notice the heat or pain either,” he replied, looking over your notes with a similar, less intense, focus.

“I wouldnt be surprised, you kinda run on autopilot when you're zoned out. Once you stole my pencil for the day after fixing my notes”, You pull yourself up on the desk, crossing your legs and watching as he scribbles down corrections to your equasions. “And you have yet to return that novel I let you borrow, you're kind of a clepto.”

“I am not a ‘clepto’” he huffed, adjusting one of your notes, biting on the edge of his pencil,

“That's my pencil..”

He pulled it away from his teeth, inspecting it for any signs he may recognize. He flipped it in his hand, finding your initials etched into the wood..

“Ah..so it is..” he muttered, finishing his edits before offering you the pencil.

“No, you keep it.” You say, declining the chewed on pencil and snatching up your papers. You hug them to your chest, walking a step or two before leaning down close to his ear, “Add it to your little collection,” you purr, straightening up and hurrying toward Jayce for a final opinion.

Viktor stills in his seat, holding the pencil loosely between his fingers and staring blankely at the edge of the desk. He twitched his hand lightly, unable to do much more after that.

You were so close..he still felt the warmth of your breath across his throat, the memory of it sending a static shiver down his spine, causing him to lean over his desk and place his head againstt his hands. You were warm, even though you hadnt touched him, and being so close, he could confirm..your shampoo smells like honey.And when you sat on his desk, he had fought every instinct in his body not to look at you, not when you sat above him like that. Your legs crossed, leaned over his work. If he reached over, he could have confirmed another theory, whether or not your thighs were as soft as they looked- Damn it, focus. He coudln’t be doing this, not here. You were no less than a yard away and all he couldnt think about was how good you smelt, how your breath felt against his neck..how your lipstain would look against his skin. He had noticed you were wearing the same color as before.

‘Stop it. They work with you.’

He grabbed his coffee, sipping it aimlessly.

The night after the party, Viktor had sat staring at the single stained glass on his desk. He had pulled it out to clean it, thinking at least he could put it in the kitchen and just forget all about his accidentale thievery. Instead, he had ended up watching it, as if it would squirm or come to life if he only watched for long enough.

He didnt clean it..he let it sit on his desk and continued on with his day. On occasion he would glance at it, sometimes walking over and holding it to closely inspect the print of your lips left on its crystal edge. He always rounded back to it, replaying the memory of you in that dress, giving him the rest of your drink..you smiled..maybe you knew- of course you didnt. Why would you know? He was good about hiding it, right? He didn’t think he made it too obvious, maybe stareing a bit longer than he should have, or that one instance where he had to hide the smile tally from you when you had seemingly manifested beside him.

Before he had slept that night, he absentmindenly brought it with him to the kitchen..he ment to clean it..but instead he had filled it, nursing down a bit of wine to trick his brain into sleeping. Maybe even allow for a dream similar to the events of the party..with less of him standing alone.

He groaned lightly to himself, standing and grabbing his crutch before walking across the room toward the door.

“Everything ok Viktor?” Jayce asked, pulling his attention away from the blackboard,

“Just need some fresh air..” Viktor replied, escaping the lab, and making his way down the hall.

After a walk his head would be clear enough to work again. He would be able ti at least make some progress on the assignment without his thoughts drifting back to how your uniform looked against your skin, or how pretty your voice sounded when you gifted him your stolen pencil..

“Add it to your little collection..”

He paused..eyes wide. “Oh..no..”

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somedaylazysomeday · 9 days

Text

Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them.

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious.

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows.

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions.

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing.

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.”

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.”

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move.

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.”

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.”

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.”

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed.

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.”

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly.

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.”

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.”

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.”

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?”

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.”

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth.

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?”

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.”

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed.

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.”

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.”

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers.

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself.

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?”

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?”

“Very.”

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff.

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there.

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?”

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze.

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.”

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly.

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.”

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?”

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.”

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.”

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him.

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.”

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered.

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily.

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.”

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.”

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.”

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed.

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal.

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience.

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you.

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation.

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?”

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.”

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.”

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.”

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!”

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment.

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back.

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him.

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice.

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.”

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back.

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded.

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?”

You shook your head.

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?”

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?”

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal.

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.”

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.”

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat.

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor.

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else.

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process.

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.”

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks.

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly.

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function.

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone.

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last.

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked.

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you.

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you.

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls.

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you.

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical.

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time.

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.”

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.”

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you.

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit.

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around.

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak.

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it.

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier.

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.”

“Flatterer,” you accused gently.

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.”

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.”

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?”

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.”

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people.

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…”

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.”

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic.

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.”

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?”

“Yes.”

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.”

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well.

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.”

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest.

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…”

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!

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