#viktor/reader

[academiaviktor]

Viktor’s Hair Appreciation Post:

#viktor arcane #viktor fluff #viktor league of legends #viktor/reader #why is it so cute

[thehistoriangirl]

A Well-Deserved Celebration

First and foremost, I want to thank @therealtendercrisps for creating such sweet event! This fic is the Secret Santa gift for the amazing @zaunitearchives  ❤ ❤ merry belated Christmas, and happy Viktor’s birthday and early New Year!  🎊 I hope you like it kfhjsjdhjf <3 I’m sorry cuz I went overboard and it endep up being very long

Viktor x AFAB!Reader-------8.9K (oopsie)-------NSFW/+18 only/MDNI

“Summary” (very much plotless fluff/smut): You and Viktor going on vacation to celebrate Christmas and his birthday :3

Tags: Established Relationship| Fluff| Domestic Fluff| Christmas-y ambiance| Cuddling| Oral Sex (both receiving)| Vaginal Fingering| Vaginal Sex| Unprotected Sex| Brief Praise kink and Breeding kink because why not| Brief Aftercare| No use of pronouns but Reader is AFAB| Porn with Feelings basically| This goes from fluff to smut to fluff again so you’d been warned| In case somebody wants to read fluff without the smut part, you can read until the second *~*~*~*|

His fingers were massaging your scalp while brushing your hair, a custom he copied from you. The curtains drawn allowed the moonlight to filtrate through the windows and ripple against the wrinkly, white bed sheets you sat over, between Viktor's legs. The wind was howling outside, the edges of the glass tinted with mist from the warm ambiance inside.

You snuggled closer to his chest, pulling the covers higher until his shoulders were covered. "Are you sure you want to go on vacation?" You'd never imagined Viktor would be the one to propose taking a couple of weeks off during the winter holidays.

He stopped, putting the brush on the nightstand. "Well, now I have an important person I want to spend time with," Viktor commented nonchalantly as if his words wouldn't make your stomach flutter and cheeks hotter.

"Oh, you mean Jayce?" Viktor scrunched his nose, feigning an offended pout.

You wanted to laugh, but before you could react, you felt his fingers eagerly climbing up the hem of your shirt, hugging you with one simple push to get you closer, practically on top of his lap. Gasping, you turned your head to see him, to prove if he would dare to go further with you observing him. Viktor was grinning proudly, breath caressing your neck, and you could sense his pointy teeth getting closer.

His fingers dug at the skin of your hips, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you tilt your neck to the side, but he didn't approach it. Instead, he headed to nibble the edge of your jaw, teasing your neck with being too close and too far at the same time.

Your eyes became shut, sensing his soft lips brushing against your skin and his hands resting inside your pajamas, over your belly. Your hips squirmed at the sensation of his muttered voice sending cold air against your skin contrasted with the warm sensation of his tongue licking all those sensible spots.

“But first, I’ll have to stay a few extra hours to advance my workload before we go.” You blinked a couple of times, words still too unclear to be understood. Then you frowned, eyebrows knitted as you tried to push him away, though one of your hands was still clinging to his forearm.

“That’s not fair,” you said, feeling your lip quivering in a pout Viktor couldn’t see as he was making his way down your neck, toward your collarbone, keeping his lips light as his teeth were the ones making an impression, quite literally, of red blooms that in the morning would be shifting to pink and purple.

"Don't worry, love. I won't exhaust myself." He stopped when the fabric of your pajamas got in his way. Golden eyes searched for yours, as you nodded back. Your hips sensed the absence of one of his hands, rapidly finding it again once his fingers caressed the fabric to push it up and up again, cold air giving your skin goosebumps. "I have the impression I'm going to need all my energy for our travel."

*~*~*~*

Around a month later, you were watching snow painting the forest that extended like a white sea with uneven treetops that looked like icebergs up and down the hills. Viktor was half-lying between fluffy pillows, a mug of hot cocoa between his hands. The sky was metallic grey, no stars or moon could be seen between the storm clouds of the snowstorm sieging the little cabin.

It must be freezing outside, but not that you would know. The bed was a mess of wrinkly blankets, and Viktor’s sweater was cozy, brushing your skin with each movement while you rotate your body toward him, trying to lay your head over his chest.

The clock hung on the wall almost marked midnight. Almost Christmas.  The coffee table you dragged inside the room was filled with dishes; a little pesto star bread that was already missing a point, a steaming pot of spinach-mushroom cream, and a chicken noodle soup—because Viktor fancied soups and sauces instead of dry meat. You also baked cookies that he helped decorate with different icings, from stars to pines, and even some snow and gingerbread people.

All that afternoon you were roaming in the kitchen, checking the boiling food in the stove, and soaking in the dishes while Viktor was sitting on a stool, leaning against the kitchen counter, brows pinched in concentration as he held the icing over every single cookie as if he were a doctor making a surgery—or perhaps Viktor was just replicating the same dedication he had when looking at some blueprint or building a prototype.

He took around two hours to finish icing around fifteen cookies, but you thought that it was worth it when Viktor called you to see the finishing result. Viktor was smiling widely as he raised the platter to show you the cookies. The first ones got shaky lines, but Viktor learned fast, and soon each cookie was filled with little details, the tree trunks were decorated with brown and black to emulate the wood veins, the scarfs around the snowmen were stripped in red and green, and the gingerbread men were neatly dressed in black pants and sweaters. Though two cookies were missing already.

As you were checking one cookie now, a pine tree with a golden star at its peak. The mattress dipped when Viktor sat next to you, brushing his shoulder against your arm as he leaned toward the table, lazily taking one plate to serve some cream of spinach.

You took the cookie and broke the trunk that had chocolate icing. Though you would never put it in your mouth because long fingers snatched it away before you could blink.

“Hey, that’s mine!” He ate it quickly, and you couldn’t even request to take it back.

“You shouldn’t eat dessert first, love.”

“You just did!” Viktor had filled a bowl with soup, so he handed it to you, raising a spoon filled with the creamy liquid toward your lips. Your hair tickled your forehead when you shook your head. “I don’t want it.”

“The faster you eat, the sooner you’ll be able to eat the cookies.” He took the spoon, moving it up and down to cool it down. “Come on, it’s tasty.”

You pouted, but you couldn't be mad—it wasn't the first time he stole bits of your food when you were distracted anyway—, so you leaned toward him, taking the spoonful of soup. It was scoldingly hot, but he was right, overall was tasty, the right mix of sweetness from the cream and saltiness of the potatoes. When you gulped it down, Viktor kissed your cheek, giving you a piece of pesto bread dipped in cream.

“Thank you,” you said, eating from his hand while filling a bowl with spinach cream, moving it to cool it before telling him: “Open your mouth.”

"Oh, and may I ask why for?" He arched a brow, a half-smile sneaking through a serious face Viktor couldn't fake, not when his eyes shone with amusement.

“I’m feeding you, don't be too cocky.” Viktor chuckled, complying. The spoon slid inside his mouth as he closed his eyes to taste it, humming. You observed him, with the yellowish light of the two lamps at each side of the bed, dark eyelashes caressing his high cheekbones, lips pursed together.

He peeked at you through them after he finished the spoonful of cream, eyes made of melted gold in a gaze so sweet you felt your stomach fluttering. “What is it, love?”

You set your bowl over the table, feet dangling against the fluffy carpet below, turning to cradle his face with your palms. He stood there, frozen, with eyes slightly widened. “You’re so beautiful I can’t believe you’re real.”

His gaze softened, lips stretching in a sheepish smile while pink covered the tips of his ears down his cheeks and the tip of his nose, the one you leaned to kiss, careful not to disturb the bowl in his hands.

“I, too, can’t believe you’re real,” he muttered, his breath moving your hair while snuggling you closer with one steady hand pressed against your waist. “Let’s eat, shall we? I have something for you when we’re done.”

You two ate half the bread in a single dinner, three-quarters’ pot of chicken soup was gone, and each one of you ate at least one and a half bowls of creamy spinach, but somehow, you still reached for the cookies. Your fingers froze while seeing two in particular.

Frowning, you said: “Is it you?” You took the cookie in your palm, observing the careful icing decorating the gingerbread man with fluffy chestnut hair and a leg black brace over brown pants, a white shirt on top with a little red tie to finish.

"Yes. I… eh, I made one of you, too." He took the plate and searched for the cookie, putting the rest aside over a napkin, and piling them carefully. "Here it is. Do you like it?"

“Yeah, they’re adorable! You didn’t have to, now I won’t be able to eat them.”

"That's alright, if you can eat me, you can eat this cookie." You almost choked on your half-eaten cookie. "Oh, my bad. That wasn't very appropriate, was it?"

“You can’t even pretend to be ashamed.”

“I’m not. Besides,” he took your face with one hand, eyes gazing over your lips. “I truly enjoy it.”

You could feel your cheeks hot, your heart beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. "Vikt—," your voice disappeared when he dipped his head, lips brushing yours in a quick peck.

Too quick, sadly. You gasped and he was already gone. Your free hand was already grasping his clothes in a shameless need to pull him closer.

"What we have here, hmm? Do you want me to do this, love?" But he didn't lean closer, instead taking the cookie out of your hand, pressing it against the cookie in his hand in a cookie kiss. You looked at him, but you couldn't even frown at his tease.

“Yes.”

He smiled proudly, and for a moment you wanted to smack him with the pillow. “How can I say no to you?”

Turning, you took him by the collar of his pajamas seconds after he left the cookies on the platter. Viktor chuckled before your lips could absorb the sound. His hands rested on your hips as he dragged you closer, almost on top of his body as he rested his head over the piled pillows.

The cold air covered your skin with goosebumps as Viktor lifted your shirt. You pushed him with a giggle, lips brushing with his to say: “We should start the gift exchange before doing more important business, don’t you think, dear?”

His eyes twinkled as he lay on the mattress. Viktor only muttered: "Alright," appreciatively, slowly rolling over to stand up, looking over the floor to look for his suitcase.

You helped him drag the heavy object nearer the bed's foot, stepping away while he searched its contents. Your gifts were neatly tucked at the bottom of your valise, next to the ones you were supposed to give him on his birthday—the important ones.

For a couple of minutes, all that could be heard in the room was the crinkle of papers and the friction of clothes tossed away.

The blankets were soft against your skin as you sat over the bed, your gifts tucked over your thighs. Viktor sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers tapping on his own box, expectantly.

You felt your chest tighten, rapid heartbeats echoing in your ears as you slid the box toward him. He did the same, both looking as flustered as you felt. The lamp let you see a deep pink tint in Viktor's face, from the tip of his ears to his neck. You knew that some strokes of pink would be down his chest if you'd lifted the long-sleeved shirt he wore.

Your Christmas gift was easy to guess, because, well, you didn’t hide their shapes below the envelope. They were rectangular and narrow, and when Viktor tapped them, it reverberated in muffled sounds usually found in the library, those of hard cardboard book covers.

The books were about mechanics and physics. They had arrived at the Academy a couple of months ago. You knew the titles from all those times you saw the tomes laying around the living room in the apartment you moved in together. To consult the books, Viktor had to transcribe the pages and avoid at all costs scribbling over the pages' margins, which took him much more time than it would need if he'd owned them.

So, there they were.

His eyes darted between you and the books, a toothy smile starting to appear on his lips as he appreciated them, the blush getting a dark shade of red.

"Ah, thank you, my love." He looked like an excited child fast-turning the pages of the books and encyclopedias, fingers pressed over each segment of text, graphics, and equations. After some minutes, Viktor put the books apart to reach your lips with a soft peck, his thumb rubbing circles on one of your cheeks. "It's your turn to open your gift."

It was a heavy box sealed with tape and with a red ribbon on top. As you opened it, Viktor sat against the headboard of the bed, face still red and fingers tapping nervously over the books’ covers.

Your fingers met cold metal and fine-blown glass carefully wrapped in paper. When you lifted the figure out of the box and into the air, you saw a little cherry blossom tree, with pink flowers, dark brown branches, and a trunk curved in an S shape. Over the rounded base, it had a golden button Viktor encouraged you to press with a tilt of his head.

Inside each flower’s stem was a minuscule light bulb that illuminated the cherry tree with golden-pinkish hues that reflected on the wall with the silhouettes of little stars.

“Do you…, do you like it?”

"You made it, didn't you?" You laughed, leaving the delicate lamp in a space over the nightstand, to curl yourself against him. "It's really beautiful, thank you so much..." Unexpectedly, your voice started to waver, and tears blurred your vision. "You shouldn't have—"

“Oh, no, no. Love, please don’t cry.” A loud thump over the nightstand echoed, the mattress dipping as Viktor rolled to your side, arms enveloping you as your ear pressed against his heart.

“It-it’s the most beautiful thing someone m-made for me—” you hipped, hands furiously trying to dry the stream of tears away. Viktor took them, replacing your fingers with his, much gentler.

He directed your face toward him, his gaze warming you from the outside out. Despite feeling awkward about your emotional outburst, his soft smile and twinkling eyes created a pool of warmth inside your chest.

“Well, that’s because you only deserve the most beautiful things,” Viktor said, kissing your forehead as his free hand tugged the blankets over you two, long fingers tapping out the light in the lamps on the nightstand. He put his leg over yours, tangling your limbs as you used to snuggle before falling asleep. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

You made a fist of fabric with his shirt as you tugged him closer. “Merry Christmas,” you said, meeting his lips briefly. “I love you, Viktor.”

He only hummed, beaming; his eyes were already heavy with slumber. But still, Viktor put you closer, his hand on the small of your lower back while your arm hugged his torso.

You were smiling, too.

*~*~*~*

Five days passed much faster than you’d anticipated. Snow was falling on Viktor's birthday, the sun barely peeking from between the heavy grey clouds. Viktor thought it was still around 6 or 7 AM when he opened his eyes.

What he found strange wasn’t the clock marking almost 10 AM, but instead the empty spot next to him.

The bedroom door was open, and through the crack, a sweet smell infiltrated the room, like vanilla and orange juice. A soft sizzle made him realize someone was cooking, and waves of warmth pooled inside the room against the misty windows from the chimney in the living room.

But the bed was almost too hot as if you were still snuggled up against his body. His hands patted at the heat centers near to him, to discover you had put some heating filled with hot water below the wall of pillows you aligned next to him, some of them wrapped in your sweater so he could smell you closer.

He wanted to look for you, but the thought of cold outside the pile of blankets made him falter. Instead, he just wriggled to sit against the headboard, piling pillows for him to keep him steady. It took him just a moment but was enough for you to peek at the entrance.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You headed inside with a platter between your arms, balancing two bowls with neatly cut fruit and a little portion of boiled oatmeal still steaming, filling the air with its vanilla essence, and two glasses of orange juice.

Viktor frowned slightly when you left the trail over the coffee table to sit at the edge of the mattress, next to him, and then dipped back toward the kitchen. “I would’ve helped you with breakfast if you’d woken me up.”

You came back a couple of minutes later, and in your hands were two bowls of zelňačka soup leftovers Viktor taught you to cook yesterday.

He opened the covers for you to slide in. You stood there, taking your shoes off, and he quickly took one of your hands to push you toward him. When you leaned to give him a peck in exchange to let you go, he felt your cold nose against his and frowned. Though you were wearing one of his sweaters and some long, fluffy socks, your skin was chilly.

“Come here, or you’ll catch a cold.” Viktor wasn’t asking, so he tangled his hands around your waist to drag you down.

Finally, you slid inside the blankets, bumping your shoulders so he could slide enough to not have you dandling at the edge of the mattress.

He helped you carry the platter between his left leg and your lap. “And? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because you don’t usually get too much sleep, and I wanted you to rest today. Besides—” The bowl of soup was warm against the cold tips of your fingers when you took it off the platter and gave it to him, moving the spoon in circles to cool it down. “You look so handsome when asleep, I couldn’t gather the courage to wake you up.”

"I see. I'm only attractive when I'm sleeping. And if I don't have much sleep, that means—" Your laugh cut his words, but he wasn't mad. His fingers brushed yours when he cupped the bowl in his hands, leaning to kiss you on the forehead. "It's certainly a witty strategy to lure me to sleep, isn't it?"

“Is it working?”

“Perhaps. I may want to take a nap after breakfast, but only if I have company. I can’t sleep when I’m alone.”

You turned to look at him, but Viktor pretended to have his sight rooted inside the bowl. "Oh, my, look at my poor love. I won't sneak out of bed again, alright?"

He nodded, looking very proud of his achievement.

After that, you both ate in silence, the only noises were the clanking of the spoons against the bowl while cutting the potatoes, sausages, and cabbages from the zelňačka. When the soup was finished, you gave him the oatmeal. It was still hot, with some cinnamon powder scattered at the top, slices of blueberries, strawberries, and some bananas serving as the topping.

Viktor thought breakfast was done, but then you snuck up a little pastry over the platter, a slice of mocha-pounded bread with a little unlit candle on top. He felt his cheeks hot, heart pounding fast.

“Love…"

“Happy birthday, Viktor,” you said, smiling widely though your voice was wavy. “I, uh, I forget the lighter in the kitchen, but I can go for it now—”

He hugged you next to him. “It’s alright, I’ll imagine it’s lit.” Viktor blew over the candle, chuckling. “See?”

“But your wish wouldn’t come true if the candle isn’t lit.” His hold of you tightened, and he tilted his head to snuggle his nose against your hair.

“I don’t need to wish for anything, you’re already here.”

You giggled, cheeks burning hot, and you considered if he would purposefully say things like that to make you flustered. For his intense gaze searching from your eyes to your lips, he did. You cupped his cheek with your free hand, and he leaned into it, and closed his eyes when you told him: "I love you, Viktor."

Viktor leaned, half-turning his body toward you. Heavy eyelids that caressed your cheeks with his dark lashes when you closed the distance to kiss him. Your hands were interlaced, keeping the warmth inside the grip still tucked under the blankets. Viktor’s thumb rubbed circles on the inverse of your palm, and you knew the goosebumps starting to appear in your arms weren’t because the room was cold.

It wasn't anymore, quite the contrary. And it was a mystery if the cause was the hearth burning fiercely in the living room or your bodies starting to defy the chill with candid touches and kindled gazes.

You pushed the platter away, back to its place on the coffee table, breathing heavily as Viktor snuck his way down your neck. Pointy, avid teeth nibbled the skin where his pasts attentions were disappearing, marking his favorite spots again.

“You’re too far away, my love. Please come closer.” He had his arms around your waist until you were almost toppling him over, legs straddled over his lap, your hands tangled between his hair as he clashed his lips against yours, drowning any moan forming in your mouth.

You loved his kisses. They were always hungry and desperate as if he'd been starving from your touch and love. As if he'd never had the chance to have you in his arms again. He could be gentle and slow with his hands, but his kisses always gave away his inner desires, just like now one of his hands pressed your lower back so you could sit firmly on his lap, with the other grasping your right hip to keep you in place.

As your body was already accustomed to his, your hips began to swiftly grind against him while feeling him growing inside his underwear. You wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for Viktor’s grunts and his hands that went adrift under your sweater—his sweater technically—, already pulling down your underwear.

You tugged his hair away to breathe, hugging his shoulders to keep your balance while raising one of your legs so your panties could slide off to one of your ankles. You felt his lips peppering your shoulders with kisses before you could straddle him again, this time adding the so-much-expected friction of his underwear against your bare pussy.

He could sense you quickly dampening the fabric of his cloth, fingers caressing the sensitive skin in your inner thighs. You reached for his cock, already hard, scratching its length with your nails. Viktor bit your bottom lip as you started to stroke him.

His tip was already wet with precum when you touched it, fabric put aside, your lips forming a smile while kissing the top of his head. You paced your hand in a slow, teasing rhythm, gently separating your body from his embrace.

Viktor looked at you with heavy lids. “Where are you going, hmm?”

You looked back at him, heart pounding madly in your chest. "You know where I'm going."

He blinked, letting his embrace grow loose as you got on your elbows. You kissed his tip, any sign of a response dying in his mouth when a grunt replaced it. His familiar taste overwhelmed your tongue, arousing you even more.

You felt your cunt dripping wet, Viktor pulling the covers away so you could move freely, laying on one side so his fingers could have extensive access to your folds while a complete view of you taking him in your mouth.

First, you licked the pinky-reddish head that twitched in response, his breathing becoming uneven while one of his hands gripped your hair.

“Oh, love. You’re very mischievous.” You played with your tongue, rolling it around his shaft and down his balls before steadying yourself. A look at Viktor’s intense gaze told you that he wanted to be deep inside your throat, just as how you much wanted him to be there. “You love to take me like this, don't you?”

From your side view, you observed his legs tensing with every inch of him that went inside your mouth. His other hand rested in the curve between your jaw and your neck, long fingers feeling the outline of his cock sliding inside your throat. The other hand quickly grabbed away any rebel locks that could block his keen gaze.

Even if he was still a little shy about asking you to please him with your mouth, you'd discovered that he enjoyed it. On days when he was too tired or his body hurt too much to even let you ride him, this was the most obvious form to please each other.

Today was his birthday, so you were going to do everything in your hands to please him.

Your mouth started with slow movements from your tongue, each time moving his shaft deeper into your throat. Tears blurred your vision, but you knew you were doing it just fine when you felt Viktor’s grasp tightened, his right hand directing the pace of your tilted head now that you were taking him all the way.

He growled, head resting back against the pillows. "You take me so well, I love you so much for that, my little slut." You hummed and gagged—because you couldn't enounce another sound.

One of his hands began to play with your clit, while the other brushed away your tears with a shaky laugh. “I promise I’ll make you up for this.”

He thrust harder, using his hand to guide your head into the required pace. Your hands were unsure where to go, changing between massaging his balls and traveling down his legs and stomach, sometimes leaving marks on your nails for when he was being especially rough.

Like now, with the tip of your nose brushing the hair in his navel, your tongue caressing the base of his balls. Your nails pierced his thighs, and you felt him tensing, his pace becoming uneven while his breath got out in shallow pants. His fingers dug in and out of your stopped hand surrounding your throat.

“I’m—I’m going to—” You could barely understand what he was saying with gritted teeth, accent thick between grunts.

You felt your face vibrating in a happy hum feeling him all hard and ready, his cock getting out your mouth until only the tip was inside, lips around it. The vibration started his undoing, fingers grabbing your hair almost violently to put himself deeper as he jerked erratically inside your mouth, some hairs down his navel’s trail brushing your nose with the movement.

The taste of his seed enveloped your tongue, as it did the coughing sensation of the liquid striking your throat, some of it escaping your lips. Viktor collected it with his thumb, shoving them inside your mouth when he slid off it. You bit his thumb playfully.

Viktor retrieved his discarded shirt to clean off your mouth and chin filled with saliva.

"Now's your turn, love." You were starting to see again, delighting over the sultry view of his face, neck, and chest completely blushed in deep red; beads of sweat sticking locks of hair over his forehead, eyes still burning with lust.

You sat between his legs, the soft covers getting sticky with your arousal, your entrance some inches away from him. For his frown, you were too far.

“I think,” you said, mind foggy. “I think—I would like to wait until the night.” Even if your core was pulsing with the thought of having him deep inside. “I want to prepare something special for you, and—and I don’t think I’ll have enough time if we continue.”

Viktor cupped your right cheek, brushing your lips open with his thumb. His finger still had some faded taste of him when you licked it. “If you let me, I’ll help you prepare what you have in mind.”

“But it’s your birthday—” you started, and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I know, and I appreciate you wanting me to enjoy it. But it doesn’t sit right with me for you to do everything. Alright?”

You nodded, a slight pout popping your bottom lip. Viktor leaned against you, enveloping one hand in your back to drag you closer as he kissed you, teeth biting your pout away. “I’m sorry, that adorable face isn’t not going to convince me.”

You giggled, the sounds muffled by his eager mouth.

“That’s not fair. Why can you trick me, but I can’t?”

He brushed your noses together. “You can trick me; I just hide the fact better.” Viktor then advanced and gave you another kiss on the forehead. “Let’s draw a bath, yes?”

“Together? Sounds like a trap.”

Viktor smiled in a smug gesture, thumb lazily circling your clit. “It is if you want it to be.”

*~*~*~*

Lunch and dinner got delayed for a couple of hours, which resulted in having lunch until 6 PM. The sun was already hiding down the hills on the horizon, freezing air moving the tree branches outside. Viktor concealed as much as he could the numb pain installed in his joints because of the cold, but you could guess it well enough.

“Why did you want to come here for vacation? The cold doesn’t bother you?” you said, putting some hot compensators wrapped in some towels under his legs and one on his back.

He was sitting on the couch next to you, a sea of covers got you two bundled up. The cabin was filled with misty windows from the stove boiling food and the roaring hearth you were sitting across from.

“Because you told me when we started dating, that you’d never seen snow before.” His growing blush wasn’t linked with the flames of the hearth. “I, eh, I wanted to be the one to show it to you.”

Your fingers were cold when you interlaced them with his, but he didn’t mind. Instead, Viktor carried them to his mouth, where he kissed the knuckles with reverence, eyes closed.

You’d just finished another round of some board games you found in one of the cabinets next to the chimney, discovering that Viktor was better at Scrabble; though it could also be because he used to peek at your chips when you were distracted when a hand skidded from your hips to your inner thighs. But you were better in domino, despite the distractions.

Viktor was explaining how to play chess when you checked the clock and discovered that the new mocha bread you were baking was supposed to be out of the oven around fifteen minutes ago.

You jumped barefoot toward the kitchen. Smoke was starting to form inside the oven, so you put on your gloves and get the bread out. It was a little burned in the outer crust and down the base, but it was salvageable.

You were trying to get the bread out of the mold when you heard Viktor’s thumbs of his cane arrive at the kitchen, your shoes in one of his hands.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning against the counter to put them on.

He went to the cupboards to get a pair of bowls for another classic chicken noodle soup that awaited on the stove. A very basic pizza casserole next to it, with the remnants of the food you purchased a week before making Christmas dinner.

Viktor served the food as you prepared the breakfast bar with silverware, and steaming cups of hot cocoa alongside next an amorph mocha bread with an unlit candle at the center.

Dinner went smoothly, the clock ticking away midnight as you finished your soup. But none of you were tired. Nervousness and expectation ran through your veins like ecstasy, and it got every fiber in your body not side-look toward the Christmas tree where Viktor’s gifts were half-hidden between the rug and its decorated base.

You put the bread in front of him when he was done with the main courses, lighting the candle. Your voice was wavy and out-of-tune when you sang him the happy birthday song, but for the way Viktor was looking at you, you’d thought you were singing an overcomplicated opera.

The flames of the candle danced in his elegant features, focusing on his teary eyes before he blew it softly.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you sang at the end, your throat getting sore from an unexpected knot. “Please don’t cry. I love you.”

You stood up to sit on his lap, hugging him to hide the little stream of tears that were sneaking down your cheeks. His hands were grasping fists in your clothes, his nose buried in your hair.

“I truly don’t deserve you.”

You were playing with his hair when one of your hands hit him lightly over his heart. "That's not true! If you say that again, I'll get mad." You kissed his jaw, hearing him sigh. "I think the same about you all the time."

“But that’s not true, you deserve the best.”

“Exactly. I deserve you. And you deserve me. You’re the best for me. Do you believe me?”

Your cheek was against his heart, and you heard it beating faster, but steadily.

"I do." You tilted your head backward to kiss him, just a peck.

Your legs were starting to cramp when you got up, extending your hand to him. “Come with me, I have something for you.”

You guide him toward the Christmas tree, where you started to lay the blankets and pillows on the couch to create a nest over the rug, next to the hearth. You knelt and helped him to sit on the floor, shoulders bumping together. Viktor put his cane aside, resting against the couch. Your hands found the two enveloped gifts hidden in the changing shadows of the fire, paper cracking when you got them on his lap.

He looked at you, with wide eyes, and blushing cheeks. "Are they… for me?"

“Yeah! You can open them if you want.”

Viktor was careful not to tear the wrapping paper, slowly peeling off the adhesive tape until one of the sides of the wrapping was open so he could slide its content out.

The first one was a framed drawing of him. He was leaning over his desk, working with a new blueprint. It could have been done from the multiple times you visited the lab to make him company before going home together. It wasn’t colored, but the traces were impeccable and delicate, and he felt tears prickling because he could see the love in the forms. Your love for him.

“Love, this is… this is marvelous. No, wait, I—I don’t even think there’s a word—” You giggled, nervous.

"More often than not, you're unsure about how other people look at you, but I wanted to try and put on paper how I look at you.” Your fingers were fidgeting with your sweater. “I’m happy you liked it. But that’s not all! Look, open the other one.”

“You shouldn’t have, with this one is more than enough—” But while he was touching the paper, he felt something soft inside, like clothes. “What is it?” Viktor muttered, opening the gift.

It was little, pink, and oddly familiar. You were removed from your seat. "I… I saw it in a market, and I thought you'd like it…"

A waverider plushie lay in his lap, light and dark pink, just like his childhood friend, Rio. "Oh, love…" he sighed shakily.

“You don’t like it? I’m sorry—” Your apology died, absorbed by his sweater when he hugged you, the plushie still in his lap. You rested your chin over one of his shoulders, feeling your face tickled by his hair when he moved to snuggle closer.

"You remember it," he muttered next to your ear, and you couldn't smile.

“Of course I do. I remember everything you tell me.”

He took a distance to examine the plushie as if it were a mysterious gear of a machine he didn’t quite have in mind to create. Its eyes were brown buttons, tail deep pink just as its appendix near the head and over its spine.

Viktor moved his gaze from the plushie to you, comfortably sitting next to him, taking the wrapping paper to fold it carefully. It was an intrusive, inconsequential thought, but he liked it.

He liked to imagine a little baby tucked in a crib, with this very same plushie next to them.

Your chuckle returned to reality. You were leaning into him, putting aside locks of his hair that were covering his eyes. “What have you thought so deeply about?”

“I think I know what I want for my birthday next year,” he commented, shifting his position so he could be in front of you, putting one pillow behind you.

You blinked for a moment, confused, with a quick beam following. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

Viktor pushed you gently against the pillows and blankets, and you tangled your arms around his shoulders to stop the fall, laughing. His face was inches away from yours, breath fanning over the rebel hairs around your brow.

“A baby of my own, if you’ll be so kind as to give it to me.” He peppered your face and neck with kisses as he slowly settled you against the little nest of blankets and pillows.

You let him go when your head hit the pillow. Feeling your cheeks growing hotter, you raised your hips to help him take off your underwear, keeping your legs open and hovering in the air. “Oh. In that case, you’ll have to earn the right.”

Your hands were trying to roll off his sweater, when Viktor took a distance, sitting over a cushion, the couch used as a backrest.

“Fair enough.” He began to pile up some pillows in front of him, in the middle of his open legs.

“If it hurts, then I can be on top, or you can take me from behind." You were about to propel yourself up with your elbows,  but Viktor pushed you down once again. Still sitting, Viktor took one of your legs, hand wrapped around your ankle as he dragged your body to turn it so he could have a broad, complete view of your little, naked cunt.

“That won’t do, I want to see you.”

You were already sticky and wet when your back rested over the piled pillows, hips higher as your back arched down. Viktor took one of your legs, heel resting over the couch’s seat. He blew cold air over your molten, boiling core and chuckled when you moaned back. Your skin started to be covered with goosebumps, his name enounced in half a plea and half a demand.

You'd repeated his name if it weren't for the gaze he dedicated to your body, belly bare as the oversized sweater ran down to let him peek at your breasts. His eyes seemed to synchronize with the flames of the hearth as the amber in them crackled and burned, darker. After what felt like a frozen eternity, his gaze lazily climbed to your face, where he smiled almost unnoticeable, a slight curve toward the right.

You bit your lip, and his gaze settled down, finally carrying your other leg lower, your heel resting in the curve of his left shoulder, where you could sense the soft leather of his back brace.

He passed a finger through your folds, humming happily when you squirmed, back arching even more.

“My love, you’re always so eager.” His fingers easily came in and out of you, and quickly, he found a rhythm that enveloped the room between the frizzling sounds of the burning logs against the hearth, and the lewd, wet sounds of his fingers pleasing you.

Viktor adored watching you wriggling, hips buckling against his fingers with such necessity. Lust knotted, tugged heavy at his stomach, and down further. He’d never thought something so simple could make you enjoy it so much.

You clenched around his fingers, but you were so wet you didn't notice at first. Your whimpers grew in between your pants. He re-accommodated, so his hand wouldn't get cramped, and resumed the pace, this time much quicker, his other hand hovering near your swollen clit in light circles.

Your throat would be sore tomorrow, with all the squeals getting out of it now that nobody could hear you, half of them being his name and the other bunch divided into praises and commands to do it faster, deeper. He felt both aroused and proud, a smile expanding on his lips as you locked your hips, thighs tense as you screamed, your walls collapsing and expanding between his fingers in rapid pulses, your arousal covering his hand and pooling down toward your ass.

His cock twitched inside his pants, wanting to be buried deep inside you. You were trying to roll out your position, but Viktor stopped you, fingers grabbing your ankles to open you even more as his head dipped between your legs.

The last waves of your orgasm were still running through your pussy, shiny arousal escaping your folds. He took all of what he could with his mouth, tongue licking carefully as you jumped with the unexpected kiss.

His tongue became cheeky, cleaning your arousal from between your folds, hands cupping your butt to keep you open up. But you kept getting wet, and he continued licking, moaning, and grunting against your pussy.

“Vik—ktor—wai—" your words got interrupted when a scream formed deep within your chest. Viktor was licking your already sensible cunt with renewed effort, nose brushing your clit with each tilt of his head.

You came fast, and it hurt, a strange kind of bliss that felt like a burning pain running through your sensible muscles, straining your already tense legs. His hands ran from your ass to your thighs when you started to choke him, fingers digging at the skin in your inner thighs, knowing full well they would get bruised.

Viktor has never minded that, and as proof, while you cum, he dedicated his time to mark them with his teeth and then showered the marks with kisses, his breath fanning over your pulsing core, eyes fixated on it too.

Just as you stopped pulsing, he put a kiss on your clit, brushing it with his nose in a rhythm that made you writhe, trying to get up into your elbows.

“Wait! Viktor… please! It—I’m too sensible.”

He blew at your entrance again, the cold air meeting your hot core now dripping from your arousal and his saliva. You shivered. “That’s good, isn’t it, love? I’m doing it just right.”

You whimpered in response, and Viktor chuckled. “Does that mean I can try to have my baby now?” He saw your pussy tensing with his words, cupping your ass as he helped you to lower your legs. A moan escaped your mouth. “I’ll take that as a confirmation, my love.”

You sat, disheveled hair that couldn’t hide the lust in your eyes. Viktor took the hem of your sweater and pulled it over your head, discharging the wool and cotton fabric over the couch. You were finally naked, and his view seemed to drink for each inch of your body, feeling a warmth each time his gaze lingered at your legs, stomach, breasts, shoulders, and face.

“You’re so enticing, I wish I could draw you like this so you could see what you make me feel,” he said against your ear, lying on the side, next to you.

Your smile was mischievous, fingers running from his chest to the hem of his underwear, patting his hard shaft. “I think I have an idea about it.” Supporting your weight with your elbows, you reached for him, wanting his lips against yours, his tongue exploring his mouth and leaving a taste of your own essence.

Your hands were fiercely pulling his clothes out, pulling when it got stuck in his back brace, fumbling with anger when his zipper got stuck and you yanked so strongly it broke.

Viktor laughed against your lips. “It seems you owe me a pair of pants, love.”

You grunted back, biting his bottom lip.

Without breaking the kiss, you helped him to pull down his underwear, stroking his cock with a familiar rhythm, nails sometimes scratching at its base and down his balls. Viktor bit his way down to your breasts, stealing shaking breaths from your lips.

You were both panting, needy of air as much as you were for each other. Viktor brushed your noses together.

“May I?” he asked, voice rough and accent thick. You rolled, positioning him on top of you. Your new position was a few inches away from the enclosed hearth, flames licking your skin, crackles of the burned wood soothing your ears.

You could see beads of sweat falling from Viktor’s temples, sticking his hair to his forehead and down his neck.

Your heels dug against the blankets when you opened your legs from him. “Please.”

He straddled you, a little pillow at each side of your thighs where he rested his knees. You rose your hips to meet him midway, desperation and need growing in your taut stomach. Now that you were familiar with his size, Viktor could bury himself all the way inside you in one thrust.

Your nails scratched both his back brace and his skin when you put him in a possessive hug full of wanting him to get deeper, pumping in that sweet spot that made you grow breathless. You knew your fingers would get scraped with all the force you were putting, brushing over his notches and metallic rods, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was having him thrusting deep inside of you, to feel his eager mouth roaming your shoulders and breasts as he looked at you as if you were the most stunning creature in the universe.

For him, you were so much more.

His mouth was playing with one of your hard nipples, the little peak coming in and out and around his tongue, eyes locking into yours from beneath his dark lashes. You saw his arms shaking from all the weight he was putting on them, but he didn’t let you speak to offer him relief.

Viktor changed his attention to the other nipple, leaving the other sore and hard. “How is it possible for you to be this perfect?”

You were too lost in your pleasure to say something more than: “Viktor.”

"You're doing it perfectly, my love," he said, liberating your nipple and watching it bounce before catching it again. "I love how you're always ready for me."

Viktor let his body fall against yours, caging your hips so he could resume the pace much faster. You arched your back and raised your legs, to both give him more access to your breasts and to feel him filling you completely.

He felt it too, hips buckling desperately against your stomach. Your hands navigated from his back to his hair, pulling him closer.

“We’re going to have a beautiful baby, right, my love?” His pace became uneven, weight pulled down against you as he grunted, biting one of your nipples as he felt you clenching around his cock. “As my belated birthday gift.”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You screamed, hands tangled around his shoulders.

He finished first, hips caught against yours as he filled you still being deep inside your cunt. You felt his warm seed traveling down your walls, spilling outside down his base and your ass. Viktor had his head buried in your chest, his hair tickling the flushed skin. He was grunting and whimpering and biting the skin of your breasts as he pumped his seed with each twitch of his cock.

You soothed him, brushing his hair and rubbing circles in his back.  

The high of his orgasm rode off. However, he noticed you haven’t cum yet, so he didn’t slide off you. Instead, he rolled so your body was on top, straddling him.

"Let me please you, love. Take your pleasure from me." His eyes were shiny and bright, lips swollen for your kisses.

You rode him, hands over his shoulders while your gaze scanned his complete body, now sweaty and filled with scratching and biting marks. The pace was quick and wet, and you could see his cum pooling on his navel as you slid up and down his shaft. Viktor was still hard, hips thrusting against yours by pure instinct even if he hissed when you quickened the pace.

His hands enveloped your lower back, the other caressing your cheek lovingly. Viktor was still playing with your tits, taut peaks expecting his sweet licks once again.

You wouldn’t hold on much longer, finally collapsing on his lap as you finished, with him still deep buried inside you, screaming at your pussy clasping him as tight as you were hugging him.

“Viktor,” you cried against his ear, head buried in the curve of his neck.

“I love you,” he answered back, shushing you as the last ripples of your orgasm left you exhausted and numb.

You didn’t recollect when he laid you against the blankets, a pillow down your head. You whined as you felt him slide out of you.

"I'll come back." Viktor stood up. The changing light of the flames let you admire your work from early in the morning and now; pink and red traces of scratches covering his stomach and down his navel; some lovebites marked in purple and red on his neck, shoulders, and even scattered over his chest. As he turned his back at you, you saw more scratches where the back brace didn't cover.

You were napping when Viktor came back minutes later. Brushing your sensitive skin with one wet towel. You moaned at feeling the slow circles he was drawing in your skin, passing the dry one to finish.

A little towel was dedicated to cleaning the mess he left between your legs. Your hips wriggled at feeling the rough texture down your folds, teasing rubs in your clit. He kissed your brow from time to time.

"You did so well today, my love. Thank you." Your eyelids were heavy, but between blinks, you could see his satisfied smile.

Viktor cleaned your entire body, first with the damp towel, and then drying the skin that was covered in goosebumps—not for the cold, but for his touch—; stopping occasionally to steal a bite from your stomach, or your shoulder, or the skin of your inner thighs.

You recovered enough strength to sit and help him clean himself and remove his back brace. You rubbed him with the wet towel while Viktor dried himself. Though it took more than expected because you liked to play with his cock which was getting hard again.

Viktor followed your example, snuggling against your body to kiss you and touching your already-cleaned pussy—which was starting to become wet once more.

It was around 4 AM when you were settling in your improvised bed, the hearth burning brightly as Viktor collocated new logs near the fire. He slid to bed shortly after, and you hugged him, one of your legs between his legs so his right could rest over your hip.

He hugged you back, kissing your brow lightly. “Thank you for today, my love. It was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” He tilted his head to meet your lips. “I promise I’ll make up to you. I’m already planning what I can do for your birthday.”

You chuckled, a sleepy smile playing on your lips that made his heart melt. "I'm glad you liked it, love. You deserve it."

It could have been the reddish flames of the renewed fire, but you saw Viktor’s cheeks tinting a deep red.

“Could, eh, could we do this next year, too?”

You snuggled your cheek over his chest, heart beating strongly, perhaps a little faster than usual. You loved that sound.

“Of course. As long as you want to.”

A pause. His hands enveloped your waist and pressed you closer.

“Would you still be here next year, with me?” You could have imagined that. It was muttered too low to recognize the familiar rumble in his chest when he talked.

"I promise," you said, and his grasp tightened. "I love you, Viktor. My love isn't going to go anywhere. Just with you."

He sighed, shoulders relaxed while his breath became more profound, but his embrace remained firm and secure.

“Just like my love for you,” he whispered back, and then both fell asleep.

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[beesincognito]

Perfect Strangers- part fifteen: The Theater

Viktor x Fem!reader (slight NSFW)

part fourteen part sixteen     (start here!)

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot.)

*slightly implied NSFW- very brief *

Word count: 5,089

******

Bags were packed for a weekend trip you were dreading. Not that it was getting in the way of work, nor was it a trip of severe inconvenience. It was a stressful venture; you would rather trek alone instead of having to bring Viktor in hopes of shielding him from what may come.

     Your parents were in town again and had asked you and Viktor to stay at the family estate that weekend for a friendly visit. Of course you wanted to prevent ruffled feathers after the last time you were all together, so you obliged after discussing it extensively with Viktor in private. Feeling out his nerves with every shift of his eyes or fidgeting of his hands in yours. 

     “It’s not too late to back out,” you finished checking the rooms, ensuring everything was tidy for your return, “we can bow out after the theater.”

     Many outs were given to Viktor, but he was adamant on going along with your parents’ request in hopes that they would warm up to him in the future. He insisted once more that there was no issue and he was looking forward to seeing your childhood home. That prospect alone made you almost as anxious as having him around your parents. 

     Entresol was far from the lavish lifestyle you were brought up in. The fissures were toxic, a hazard to raise a child in, and most people were never given a choice about living there. You wondered what he would think of your wastefully large home and how stifling it was. Surely after all of those years together, he would know you were far removed from the mindset of your parents and the estate should not reflect who you had become away at the academy.

     A car was waiting for you on the edge of campus which you did not request, only accepting your mother’s offer to have a driver sent as opposed to leaving an hour early to walk. Pistons fired as the vehicle bumbled down the lane on the way to the theater after your bags were loaded into the back seat by the driver. All of the pampering felt widely unnecessary.

     The crowds were large and the driver dropped you off at the front steps to the theater which was in a thrall over the spring program. Usually the Winterfest was the highlight of the year for the theater, but, from what you remembered growing up, spring concerts could attract a healthy sum of people on opening night. Obviously your parents wanted to attend on opening night despite the overwhelming number of people. 

     Your family’s wealth did not provide for a private box, but there were handsomely placed seats in the nosebleeds that allowed ample viewing of the stage unobstructed. There your parents were, waiting for you with drinks already ordered and seats saved for the four of you. There was a table for standing just behind the seats and you passed it before settling into the space next to your mother. 

     “I almost thought you were going to be late, it would have been a waste of ticket money,” your mother was charming as ever with the way her passive aggressive words edged on the line of cynical in tone and nature.

     After fruitlessly arguing with her to assure her you had plenty of time before the concert began, you listened to her drone on about work and home. Staff was getting more disagreeable by the day and she blamed it on them being from the undercity which you were quick to politely reprimand her on without sounding too upset. Apparently there was an accident at one of the manufacturing plants and protests ensued, leading your father to lay off over a dozen workers without a proper investigation. It was vile, and you felt your leg shake with agitation while trying to remain calm. 

     Beside you, Viktor’s knuckles were white from gripping the neck of his cane between his knees as he looked on at the empty stage, curtains still drawn in a red velvet wall, down below. He was attempting to go unnoticed and to not make a scene since he felt another trap brewing from your mother, egging him on by spitting on the undercity in such a benumbed manner. 

     There was no room for you to comfort him, even silently, since holding his hand or leaning on him around your parents would most likely result in a painstakingly grueling lecture about “public decency.” If you were with someone from Piltover, then the story would have been very different, but you chose Viktor and for that you would receive no grace. 

     “Let’s not talk about work,” you smiled at her as best you could, playing the role of loving daughter for her sake. 

     “One last thing,” she tapped your father on the arm, prompting him to hand her a small letter from the inner pocket of his suit, “this came a few weeks ago. We forwarded the message to you in a letter, but you never responded so I assume you never read it.”

     A broken seal told you exactly who it was from. The Galgaridon crest looked up at you in two torn pieces from the folded piece of paper. Just as the music was beginning from the orchestra pit, you unfolded it and began reading its contents; you read at an angle so Viktor could eye it if he wanted to.

     Caston Galgaridon wrote to your family home to explain his recent honorable discharge from the Noxian military after an injury sustained on the battlefield rendered him incapable of continuing his service. Part of you knew he must have put himself in harm's way on purpose after your last talk. Whatever the reason, be it accidental or intentional as suspected, he was informing your family of his new position in becoming the new head of the foundry your parents helped build all that time ago. Meaning they would be working directly through him for their Noxian transports and business ventures. 

     At least he had the decency to not write to you directly and respect your wishes for space. Little could be said for your parents as time crawled on. 

     “Why does this concern me?” you folded the letter with its familiar creases and reclined in your seat.

     “We thought you ought to know since you will be working with him once you’re done with schooling,” your father leaned forward to see past your mother who stared at the performance with feigned indifference, “and it’s important to maintain our partnerships.”

     “I don’t see how working in Noxus is relevant to my future career endeavors.”

     “No one ever said you had to relocate to Noxus,” his dry laughter said more than you needed to know, “regardless of your living arrangements, correspondence with the young master Galgaridon is still an important partnership.”

     Down on stage there were ballet dancers leaping across the polished wooden stage over fake prop pieces of florals and grasses moving in imaginary wind as violins encouraged them on. As chimes echoed in the background, you stole a glance at Viktor who turned just as you did, perfectly in sync with your movements without a word needing to pass between you. Honey colored eyes reflected the lights of the stage in the near darkness of the theater and they were full of a sweetened understanding that you could have melted into if you were back in your rooms with him. You were itching to feel him in any kind of embrace at that moment, but the desire to keep your parents’ feathers silky smooth kept you grounded in your nauseating discomfort.

     The past always had an ugly way of dredging itself up at the most inopportune time, but at least in that moment it was less of a real threat and more of an uncomfortable suggestion from your parents. It was a sour attempt to get you out of Piltover and away from Viktor, an obvious stabbing betrayal even if you were unsure it even counted as such when they had been so open with you about their disapproval already. 

     This is lovely, you had quietly remarked, pointing out the performance, leaning towards your parents. The little gestures were your only salvation it seemed.

     Polite conversation was able to spark between the four of you once you managed to get the first few pleasant words out about anything other than responsibilities. Managing to make your parents smile at you and Viktor during comments and jests felt like pushing a rock up a steep hill, arduous, but greatly rewarding once you reached the top and were able to rest at its peak.

     By the end of the concert the choppy waters felt unusually calm, whatever storm that had been brewing was either passed or on hold. The cab that came around the front of the building, to collect the four of you, already had your belongings strapped to the rear of the large carriage. 

     The trip back to the estate was long, as the hours passed, you all dozed off at different times. All except Viktor who took to admiring the changing scenery through the window even if the night outside prevented him from seeing much past the vague silhouette every now and then once you were out of the inner city. Housing towards the edge would range from modest dwellings to smaller unkempt apartments and eventually largely spaced out manors. Wide gaps in wealth were evident even topside it seemed. 

     He couldn’t help but think those lackluster apartments were right up your combined alley when it came to affordability since you refused to use your family funds. Over the last half year, you both were more frugal with your finances. Accepting that the y/l/n family fortune could be pulled out from under you at any moment made you both carefully calculate your means of living and you made sure to stay within those boundaries.

     Viktor also knew this weekend trip was a performance at its core and he was determined to play his part as quietly as he could manage. Willing to seem invisible for your sake and to not stir your parents’ emotions into barring down on you with their unrelenting barrage of disapproving opinions. Difficult as it was, considering he was usually emboldened at the academy, more confident in his field and among his colleagues. 

     Thankfully he managed to speak to your parents about his work when they appeared to ask with a genuine interest, prodding him to reveal his plans. 

******

Lush green hedges surrounded the property, or at least the innermost part of the property that contained the main house and gardens; it did not include the long drive up through manicured rolling landscapes and trees spotted throughout the scene. Leaves and twigs were collected in muslin sacks for disposal after the annual pruning and new buds were well into blossoming in time for the season. Birds skirted across a pond, rippling through the glass surface with beautiful disturbance coupled with their cacophony of squawks and honks. 

     Home was back at the academy for you, but there would always be a bittersweet nostalgia in returning to the estate for visits and this time was no different. You stepped out of the motorized carriage first, followed by Viktor and your parents in succession. Moonlight and lanterns provided a glow that came off in a haze against the evening mist. Starlight dappled in the blanket of night overhead and you wished to spend more time outside with Viktor in the fresh air, but you were hurriedly rushed inside by your parents who were too eager to show off their abode to a newcomer. 

     Even if Viktor was not their ideal guest, they were desperately trying to save face. Most of their disdain of him had been private comments made directly to you, so they must have thought he was none the wiser regarding their opinions of him.

     Given the late hour, the tour was rather short. They only showed him where they would be dining for breakfast, should you both like to join them that early, and the parlor where they spent most of their free time. Free time did not come often for your parents, but you assumed this weekend they would be lounging for once since they insisted on your staying over.

     “Don’t be shy about exploring. I’m sure y/n will take you around at some point as well,” your father passed through the large double doors that opened into a corridor not too far from your room. “Your things have been brought to the bedroom already, so you may retire if you wish.”

     Bidding your parents goodnight, you accepted their offer to be excused and took Viktor with you. 

     “I wish they were this nice all of the time,” you mumbled over your shoulder to Viktor once you were a few turns and rooms away from them. “They were so polite to you, why can’t it be real?”

     “Don’t concern yourself over things you cannot control.” Viktor followed you through the doors to your room, pulling the handles closed behind him with a low snap of pins falling into place and the lock setting. “For now, let's just be happy we’ve made it this far.”

    He was right. Fretting over wishes and complaints were never going to amount to anything and you were feeling more at ease being alone with him in the privacy of your room.

     Something you could control was at your fingertips. It teased at your tongue as you were feeling too shy to openly ask for anything explicit. Sitting on the edge of your canopy bed proved more than enough for a hint when Viktor joined you without suggestion. Evening clothes began to feel suffocating as you lost yourselves in a tangle of limbs and pleading whispers.

******

Morning came with a vengeance. You were undisturbed by maids or your parents, left to rest at your own leisure with Viktor in your bed and the curtains were still pulled back from the night before. Neither of you thought to close them which let the blinding white reflection of the sun wake you since you were facing large glass doors across the room. Scenic lawns softened the blow of the harsh sunlight and you blinked against its glow as a few squirrels sprinted across the window sill in leaping bounds, cheeks full of their gathering spoils.

     Blankets tempted you to remain in bed, but the idea of any staff or your parents poking in to check on you prompted you to drag yourself from the plush den and get ready for the day. Pushing open the double doors and opening the remaining curtains to let in more light, you wake Viktor up in the process. 

     Despite how sleepy you both still felt, there was something in the air that you couldn’t explain. It was like the hotel room when you got a taste of domesticity away from the academy together, playing pretend for a little while before having to return to work and research all while feeling like teenagers in adult bodies. 

     “I could get used to this,” Viktor held your hand with a reverence that made you blush when you sat next to him on his side of the bed where he was still laying.

     “The nice house?”

     “No,” his eyes closed, still tired, “this feeling, in this room. It’s like we’re married.”

     “Would you want to?” You moved your two hands together further implying what he just said.

     “Eventually.”

******

Easels with abandoned paintings were pushed into a corner of glass and plaster, leaving room for a large open space of stone that made up the floor to the old studio. Days were once spent toiling away at those easels much to the behest of your family, pouring your soul into the pieces that could only be referenced from the windows beyond your enclosure and images you had seen elsewhere during excursions or from books. There were plenty of those to go around in your home, but taking your art supplies out of the estate and beyond the property grounds was restricted. Encouragement for your creative hobbies was nonexistent since it was only seen as just that, a hobby and nothing more. Cursed be the day you first asked your mother for your beginner set of paints and a canvas. Over time your parents softened to the idea of you pursuing a meaningful pastime, giving you a wide berth for creative study under the guise of it remaining a hobby and you played that part as well as you could for years.

     Windows made up a wall of glass, an old sunroom connected to your bedroom through a short hallway only accessible to you. It must have once been a modest sitting room before the estate grew too large for it and it was abandoned until you burrowed your way into it as a child while exploring. Ivy still grew on the back of the house unlike the front where it was completely cleared away for structural integrity. 

     You were not about to thew Viktor in the history of your home and meaning of all of the rooms. Bringing him to your old studio was more of a thing of boredom and meandering through the halls with him until you thought to visit the old room which felt so strange after all that time away. Dust dated the years you were away despite your infrequent visits to the estate, the studio went on abandoned. 

     Chatter about the room ranged from explaining what mysterious containers and cups contained, since you were awful at labeling things outside of a shared classroom setting, to shyly tucking away old lackluster art that once left you for want of improved talent. 

     “It’s a time capsule,” Viktor looked around with curiosity, pretending he didn’t notice you stuffing a large drawing between canvases to his side. Those small graces were everything to you even if you knew full well you couldn’t get much past him even if you tried.

     “You can say that.”

     “You’ve always been an artist. I find that inspiring, to have held onto a passion this long with the opposition you’ve received because of it.”

     Red creeped up your face, or at least that was how it felt when your heart hammered at his words. Inspiration was a dry well and your addled mind was unable to accept that Viktor found it in you in some way. How you had managed to keep the man before you in your life for so long would continue to elude you and you were just thankful he showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. 

     “Where do you see us,” it was too late to retract once the words fell out of your blabbering mouth, “in a year or so?” His comment from that morning was worming through your brain.

     His sudden stoic expression, deep in thought, did nothing for your nerves so you continued to drone on in the hopes of answering your own stupid question or forcing him to move on and not answer you at all. The latter would have been better.

     “I mean, nothing serious, I’m not talking about- um - future plans with you and me,” you rubbed your forehead aggressively trying to find the right words to not scare him away. After a minute or so of rambling you gave up trying to sound coherent. “Forget I said anything.”

     “I’m assuming you only want me to respond regarding our careers, though I’d be glad to entertain ideas of what we’ll be in the future together,” his confidence in your relationship was unclear in the way he answered you so you asked him to not elaborate and instead let him talk about what you both might be doing once schooling was over. 

     With academics nearing a close, you wondered where he would work and if you would both become so busy you would belong to your jobs and lose time to live in the real world. Both of your fields were demanding and not conducive of a healthy atmosphere for maintaining a proper relationship if you were not careful with time management. 

     Viktor knew not to lose himself in his work, but you hadn’t a clue what the future had in store and how he would change, how he could change if circumstances forced his hand. Just the thought of losing the man in front of you made your stomach turn as you chatted through these possibilities without sounding too desperate for all of your curiosities to be answered in confidence. 

     “What if I hold you back?” You lamented, leaning against the glass overlooking those grassy fields you memorized as a child. “I want you to be great and belong to your work however you see fit without worrying about…me.”

     Whether you wanted to admit it aloud or not, you were unsure if this blissful companionship with Viktor would outlast your school days once you were both free of the academy should you both get jobs away from its labs. No matter what you did, Viktor would most likely become a successful researcher and inventor which would take him to the workshop guilds while your mother had hinted you’d be traveling to Noxus once you joined the family business.

     The future didn’t look prime for you and Viktor. 

     Arms encircled you, secure and warm in the room of glass. 

     “I am yours,” his face was set and calm in the effort to assure you without having to give you any grand speeches, “entirely and unconditionally.”

******

Entirely and unconditionally swam around your mind sweetly for the rest of the day and gave you some reprieve as you entertained your parents even though you and Viktor were supposed to be the guests. Instead of feeling as if it were the other way around, you were the one up in front of the couches by the grand fireplace telling them stories about school and from books much to your parent’s delight. 

     Animated gestures and vocal cues made their faces lighten up with a childish glee even when Viktor would chime in on your stories from where he sat in the overly ornate armchair. Despite having your parents there, it was nice to relive your memories from the academy with Viktor. 

     “Do you have any stories from the Kiraman labs?” Your mother leaned forward on her elbows as you turned the events of your lab over, organizing your thoughts to see if there were any comical stories. 

     “Not many involving me, but there have been a few explosions here and there from the other researchers,” your eyes glued to an ugly wall decoration across the room as you thought over it. “Well I was working on a project recently and the whole thing fell over into a mess of parts and gears.”

     You went on to tell them how that day had been an inventor’s disaster and you were at your wits end with the way your projects had been going and you detailed the whirlwind that was your office. It got to the part where you bumped into an old classmate that kindly assisted you with repairing your project, helping you progress with it further than you had before if ever fell.

     “So you do have friends,” your father jested. 

     For some reason it made you uncomfortable to think of it that way especially when you kept Jayce’s name out of it, “no we were just classmates a long time ago.”

     “But they remembered you anyways, must’ve been a memorable class,” your father let out a blubbering chuckle. “Who was it anyways?”

     Your neck felt cool from sweat and you regretted finishing the story, wishing you had left it after the part where you stormed away from the fallen project, “It doesn’t matter. No one important.”

     “Oh come now,” he leaned back in his seat and blew out a thick cloud from his pipe. “Worried I might know their parents like when you were a child?”

     “No it’s just he-”

     “A gentleman!” Your mother chimed in like you were all playing a guessing game.

     “And he works at the Kiraman labs, dear,” your father chattered away with guesses with your mother as you rolled your eyes, grinning uncomfortably at Viktor, “must be from a prominent family.”

     “Wrong again,” you teased knowing full well Jayce was from a lower house like you, but it was not as full of grandeur and prestige as your father was imagining.

     “Well play fair then, give us some decent clues,” your mother was all smiles and you managed to mirror her enthusiasm even if it was much calmer in comparison. 

     You stopped the makeshift game before it really took off, throwing yourself into another story that featured you and Viktor having lunch with Sky during the school trip so long ago. It seemed to satisfy their cravings for drama when part of the story was about a conversation the three of you unwillingly heard from a table over at the restaurant. 

     Throughout the rest of your social time with your parents, you’d occasionally catch Viktor looking at you with knit brows. It was unusual for him to stare at you like that and you knew it was because you refused to give up Jayce’s name during the storytelling. You hadn’t really told him about that day in the lab aside from having a hard time and he didn’t know who Jayce was at all, as far as you knew, since it seemed their paths had never crossed. 

     Inevitability gave you fair warning that he was going to ask you about who the mystery classmate was that night when you were back in your room trying to sleep. 

     Dinner time was easier since your parents had their friends join all of you that evening. This time you weren’t the only one telling stories; now it was your parent’s turn to peacock and entertain. Whether their friends actually cared was another matter since a few of them continued to mutter about business if the room would grow too quiet. 

     When it was loud with laughter, you had some semblance of privacy being able to talk with Viktor where you were both tucked away at the edge of the crowd. There you could talk about what you were going to do once you were free of this place and back at the academy. 

     Viktor seemed different, not upset, but tired of being around people who must have been weighing him down from how loud they were. The mystery classmate was in the back of his mind even if he knew it was irrational to worry. Keeping secrets was something he never did to you besides the occasional white lie that he wasn’t tired, he wasn’t in pain, or a new dish you worked hard to make was definitely not burnt. But this felt different in the way you held his hand in reassurance and gave him your full attention when he so much as cleared his throat. 

     “Relax,” he whispered after you asked him if anything was wrong for the fifth time that evening. It wasn’t a command and more of a sweetly delivered suggestion which put you in some ease, or at least stopped you from asking again. 

******

It was left unsaid, all of your shared thoughts over Jayce. You didn’t want to tell him who it was and part of him didn’t really want to know despite the curiosity. 

     “You know you can be honest with me,” Viktor said more so to the cloth above then directly to you, staring at the velvet canopy of your bed in the near darkness. 

     You were reading by your dimly warm bedside light when he broke the quiet. Closing the book carefully, you set it aside, “you’re talking about the story… from the lab.”

     His silence was your answer.

     “He was just an old classmate,” you leaned back, “I didn’t like my parents prying.”

     “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to do the same,” he sighed, “but I know he wasn’t just a classmate.”

     Hammering in your chest did nothing for your nerves and you tried to keep your breathing level once you remembered nothing got past Viktor. 

     “I didn’t-”

     “I know you didn’t cheat,” he laughed a little which put you at ease, “but you have history with him-” you covered his mouth, but he easily freed himself, “and that’s ok. I was just curious.”

     Talking helped. From gasps of surprise to laughing about things that were once very painful, Viktor told you about a night years ago where he came to see you late at night before you shared a dorm and before you ever began seeing each other exclusively. You listened wide eyed realizing he never brought it up with you before because he knew it was none of his business. He’d even forgotten about it until the mysterious classmate was brought up and he connected the dots since he knew you never really slept around back then either. There was no room to do so since you used to be attached at the hip even as friends. 

     “I’m so embarrassed,” you laughed at yourself thinking of that night you had answered the door as a disheveled mess, knowing Jayce had been hiding in the blankets.

     Viktor caught his breath after his own bout of laughter at something you said. It felt good to finally let go of the guilt even if he still didn’t ask you who the man was and you were content with keeping it that way. 

     We should get married, you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper as you were in and out of sleep after what felt like hours of joking around fighting it off. 

     Rational thought told you marriage was not in your future and you didn’t care much for the idea anyways. The tradition and pressure was an uninviting thought and you itched at the image of your parents weeping for the loss of your status by marrying down. It wasn’t like marriage would make much of a difference in your shared lives anyways.

     In the morning you both got up early and left when the fog was still thick across the grass fields and trees. It was a long drive back to the academy and you were ready to return to the dorms and close the curtains on this whole affair of entertaining your parents. 

******

#viktor #arcane #viktor x reader #reader x viktor #viktor arcane #viktor/reader #viktor my beloved #arcane reader insert #viktor arcane x reader #reader x viktor arcane

[thedreamlessnights]

Anything You Want

Viktor x f!reader || NSFW ||

Summary: As an anniversary gift, Viktor lets you do whatever you want with him. You blindfold him, cover him in kisses and warm wax that makes him shiver, and straddle his lap. You give him a single rule to follow: he’s not allowed to touch you, or you’ll stop.

Warnings: Wax play - no pain, only sensations, fingering, temperature play, sort of dom!reader, praise kink, one (1) use of good boy, begging, body worship, marking(love bites), bantering, Viktor gets blindfolded, mentions of restraints, general NSFW content.

A/N: Happy Kinktober first everyone! Enjoy this fic which was absolutely not released on October 12th, no sir!

Word Count: 4k

If there’s anything consistent about the past few months of your life, it’s window shopping. 

Stress melts away in blurred aisles, in almost-empty carts. If you spend too much, then it’ll be a bad habit, and you have quite enough of those to last you a lifetime. You buy trinkets, mostly. Little things that you’re forced to actually use, because you can’t stand the thought of them going to waste.

Which is how, at nine in the morning on the eve of your anniversary, you find yourself in the candle aisle. The last thirty minutes have been a blur of stress that won’t quite shed from you the way it normally does. 

Everything you have planned for tomorrow doesn’t feel like enough. Granted, Viktor isn’t picky, and he definitely isn’t expecting anything big. The two of you have been together for four years now, and you’ve always done largely the same things. He takes you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant, the two of you exchange gifts, and you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

All of that applies to this year, too, but it’s different. 

You’re married now. 

Over the last few months, you’ve gotten him a dozen little gifts as expressions of your love. A new leather notebook, because his current one is falling apart at the seams and only has a few pages left. New books for him to read. A winter coat. Some favorite childhood snacks that are hard to find here. Shoes that will alleviate some of the pressure on his foot and knee.

None of that feels good enough. 

It’s your own fault, because what you’re really trying to do is live up to the standards you’ve set for previous anniversaries - because in addition to regular gifts, you’ve always had something extra for him, too.

The first year, it was lingerie. 

After that, boudoir photos. He still keeps one of those pictures in his wallet - and you’re always reminded of it by the slight, mischievous smile he gives you when he opens it. 

Then, last year - your wedding night - he’d bound you up with soft, silk ties, and the two of you had experimented with various things all honeymoon long. 

But what on earth can you do this year?

You’ve searched and searched, but things either seem too far out or not enough. Either you’ll be uncomfortable, or you know Viktor will be.

So here you are, roaming a grocery store, as if it will strike some divine inspiration to answer the problem you’ve had for months. 

Here you are, eyeing wax melts and candles and remembering that your current candle of choice is running low.

There are almost too many options to choose from. Pine and vetiver, salt spray, poppy fields, apple and cinnamon, lemon-lavender. A rainbow selection, but the one that sticks out to you is a dark orange-red, ruby blended with rust. 

Sweet ginger and spice, it says. Sturdy in your hand, and not too expensive.

The smell of it when it hits your nose is so astonishingly Viktor that it almost makes your knees buckle.

Cardamom, a slight hint of coffee, warm cinnamon, sharp pepper.

Viktor.

And a coincidence like that makes you think - even as you quickly set the candle in your cart and continue your mindless strolling.

It makes you think of a year ago, on your honeymoon, when you and Viktor had gone into a sex shop. When rows and rows of padded handcuffs and silk ties and blindfolds and harnesses and sex toys had all blended together into one adrenaline-fueled moment.

But most of all, it makes you think of something you’d forgotten - when skin-safe wax had caught your eye, crimson red. Deep in your mind, an idea sparks.

Because you can picture it now, Viktor blindfolded under you, gasping as warm wax drapes over his abdomen. Heaving breaths that contract his stomach. 

Porcelain skin, covered in scarlet.

You know what you’re going to do for your anniversary.

***

Every time you’ve asked Viktor about his limits, he’s had the same response to give.

“Anything you want.”

Those three words have been drilled into you, and they were the same when you’d asked him what he was comfortable with a month or two ago - just to be sure nothing had changed. He was clever enough to know that you were planning something - or trying to. And he’d just looked at you with a soft, fond sort of gaze, and said, “Anything.”

Anything you want.

Being in a shop like this is much more intimidating now, being here alone and with a plan. The wax seems to scream at you from where it sits in your cart. 

But you pay no mind to it, because if Viktor really had a limit in mind, he’d have told you. You already know what he doesn’t like, and you don’t like those things, either. Hence, his usual response. Anything you want - an indicator of his trust for you.

Trust you don’t intend to disappoint.

A blindfold is quickly added to the cart, but you halt at the restraints. You could tie him up. He’d like it, but you’ve already done it before. Besides, you’ve got something better in mind.

Something he finds out after the anniversary dinner - once you’ve painted your lips in pink and put on a new dress. Once he’s opened his gifts and you’ve opened yours, and the two of you have settled onto the bed, full and more than content.

“I have something else for you,” you tell him, and the edge of his lip quirks. A smile - and a smug one, at that. He’d known you’d have more.

“Oh?” he asks, gaze immediately pinning on the small, rectangular box in your hands. 

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his cheek, leaving the ghost of a mark against his skin. Then you hand him the box, leaning back to mull over his expression.

He’s curious - of course he is. He’s probably spent the last few months trying to guess what you’d be doing, which only makes this better. Because, as much as he excels at reading you, he can’t guess an idea you hadn’t even come up with until yesterday.

Or, at least, you don’t think he can.

When he opens the box and finds what’s inside - the black satin of the blindfold - his expression flickers quizzically.

“How do you feel about surprises?” you murmur, scooting closer and tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. He leans into the motion, briefly closing his eyes before reaching out for you.

“I enjoy them,” he says with a coy smile, settling a hand on your lower back. It sits there a moment, then slides up to your waist. “Particularly when they come from you.”

“Well then,” you practically purr, settling yourself on his lap. “Put it on. I’ll set it up.” 

Your mouth hovers over his for a moment before he kisses you. A short, sweet thing - the slightest brush of tongues before you pull away, admiring your view.

Left behind from where your lips had met, Viktor’s mouth is now pink - vibrant, smudged from your lipstick. When he puts on the blindfold and waits for you, it’s a pretty enough sight that you’re tempted to rush your work. 

Only, you also want to stretch it out. You want to make him desperate. Begging for you. Whimpering. Marked, worshipped, and throbbing. That result won’t come without some patience on your part - Viktor is many things, and being stubborn is at the top of the list. He won’t give in easily.

You drag out the heating of the wax as much as you can, but he sits obediently on the bed, head tilting toward the sounds you’re making - no doubt trying to analyze every action. Every rustle of fabric, every opening of a drawer, every soft clink and click of the lighter seems amplified in the silence, and you’ve no doubt that he’s registering all of it.

Even when you’re finally ready to start, his resolve barely seems weakened. If anything, he seems more excited about whatever it is he thinks you’re doing.

When you come to straddle him, setting the candle on the nightstand, his hands automatically go up to your waist, head tilting up toward you.

You tsk, removing them even as you miss the loss of them. The confusion plays on his face as clear as day, and it makes a strange satisfaction rumble in your chest. The rare occurrence of being one step ahead of his thinking.

“This surprise comes with a rule,” you say, leaning in close to his ear. “If you break it, I’ll stop what I’m doing and go to bed. Understand?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “What’s the rule?”

“You’re not allowed to touch me.”

He inhales sharply.

 “Your hands stay on those sheets,” you continue. “On the bed or on your legs, but not touching me, and not touching yourself.”

“Cruel,” he mutters, but there’s a subtle enthrallment in his words. “Alright, then.”

His hands go flat to the sheets. 

“Good boy,” you murmur. 

His reaction is almost imperceptible, but you catch it nonetheless. The slightest squirming. The flick of his lips into a smile. Surprise, but not distaste. 

He sits still for you as you reach over to the nightstand and grab the wax, testing it with a dip of your finger to make sure it’s not too hot. It’s warm, but not scalding - it won’t hurt him, but it will most likely startle. When it dries, it peels away from your finger easily.

Now you need to expose some of his skin, which means unbuttoning his white shirt and trailing your fingers over his abdomen - making him writhe in anticipation again.

“What are you up to?” he asks, sounding slightly breathless. His hand twitches on the sheets, as if tempted to reach up and grip the back of your thigh - the way he usually does when you sit like this.

“If I told you that,” you say, stabilizing the candle in your grip, “then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

Before he can respond, you tilt the candle forward and the warm wax spills out - streaming down his sternum.

Viktor’s reaction is instant. A quick, sharp breath. An instinctive movement of his hand, shooting up to grab at your wrist. His grip is tight, but not painful. Lips parted in shock, but no anger in his expression.

You go still just as fast as he moves, holding the candle close to your chest, waiting. Waiting as he breathes in heavily, tilting his head back against the headboard. Waiting as he curses under his breath, thumb stroking your wrist. 

The longer you wait, the more dread pools in your stomach. Slimy. Thick. Coiling into a knot.

Have you gone too far? Was the wax too hot? 

Another dip of your fingers says otherwise. A pleasant warmth, but nothing more. 

Maybe he’d hated it. Maybe you’ve betrayed the trust he so adamantly put in you. Maybe you’ve just ruined your anniversary. But how were you to know?

“Vik?” you whisper. “Too much? Should I stop?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, gently squeezing your wrist. “No, please don’t. I - I liked it. I liked it more than… more than I’d have expected to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

The doubt bleeds out of you, spilling into the air against his strained breathing until it’s gone. It’s replaced by a new sense of boldness. You’d found something he hadn’t even known he liked.

“Then tell me,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It leaves a red mark this time - his favorite color of lipstick on you - another surprise for him to discover. “What was the rule I gave you?”

As if he hadn’t noticed the way he’s still holding you, Viktor’s brow quirks in confusion. His grip on your hand relaxes, and he drops his hand.

“N- not to touch you,” he says, swallowing hard.

“Good. Consider that your warning.”

When his hands return to the sheets, you continue your work - pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. He shivers at the brush of your lips, but sighs when you trail over the same area with the wax. The warmth of it must be nice - his body slackens rather than going tense.

Little by little, you adorn him. Kiss every inch of him that you have access to, from jaw to clavicle to abdomen. Decorate him with ruby presses of your lips, soft trails of wax, gentle nuzzling against his skin. 

Delicate nibbling at his neck that turns into something fiercer, sharper - jeweled bruises that will soon crown his throat. He sits obediently for you, stubbornly patient, but you can read his desperation like a book.

The way he squirms under you, though he tries to subdue it. Hands buried in the sheets, squeezing tight enough to whiten the knuckles. Hard underneath you, kept still, but you know what he wants. What he’s currently fighting. He wants to grind his hips into you, in time with the gentle rhythm of your movements. Wants to reach up and touch you. Wants to be inside you.

When you fan your breath on his cheek, he turns toward you - leans in, wanting to kiss you. But even this, you deny him - choosing to bite at his shoulder, waiting for him to beg.

“Are you ever going to- to allow me to touch you?” Viktor asks, sounding winded. His hands tug on the sheets, as if to show you the extent of his desperation.

“Maybe,” you tease. “If you keep being good.”

He curses under his breath. Curses again when you lean forward, putting the force of your weight on his hips. 

His hips roll instinctively into yours. Stopping only when you halt, raising a brow that he can’t even see.

“I thought you wanted to touch me,” you tell him. He can hear the smugness of your voice - you can tell by the downward twist of his lips, the twist that becomes a scowl.

“I do,” he says. It’s almost desperate, but not quite. Not enough. 

“Then behave.”

He lets out a soft, pleading sound in response to that. You simply hum, setting the candle down beside the nightstand and admiring your work.

Viktor is covered - torso and abdomen decorated in various shades of red - your lipstick meshed with the wax. His skin is a beautiful canvas for your work, and when you’re satisfied that you've taken all of him in, you reach to the nightstand for one of the other things you’d set aside - a camera.

“I want to remember this,” you say softly, aligning him in the camera’s frame. “Remember how you look right now.”

Viktor pauses, taking in your words. Then he smiles.

“You’re taking a picture.”

The clean click of the shutter is your response.

“You look so pretty for me,” you praise. “How could I not?”

“Take more,” he murmurs. “To match the pictures of you I’ll be taking later.”

Heat courses down your abdomen, searing and very, very distracting. 

“Bold words from someone blindfolded,” you tease, pushing your arousal aside and snapping two more. “Who says you’ll be able to see me?”

Christ, he’s beautiful. You add in a fourth. Then a fifth.

“I have hope,” he says plainly. Click. “I think you’ll have mercy on me. I’ll get those pictures.” Click.

“Promise?” you ask, taking one final picture.

“I promise.”

Finally satisfied, you set the camera down on the nightstand again, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. Your fingers trail low, but not where he wants them - not where will give him relief. Only over his thighs, making him shudder. Over his belt, before pulling it free. Undoing his knee brace, and pulling his pants off, leaving him in his boxers.

Viktor is practically panting for you now, waiting for your inevitable upcoming action. Which, perhaps a bit cruelly, is to grab an ice cube from the melting tray on the nightstand and brush it against the soft skin of his stomach.

He swears loudly, hands fiercely gripping at the sheets. 

A moment is spent waiting for him - seeing if he’ll say it’s too much, if he’ll tap out. When he doesn’t, you continue. Trail it up his ribs, over his sternum, down his abdomen. Watch the glossy trail it leaves on his skin.

Viktor shivers under it, breaths coming deep under your touch, heart fluttering in his ribs when you rest ice-cold fingers above it.

“You - you’ll be the death of me,” he whimpers, tilting his head back. You imagine that he’s closing his eyes, but aren’t sure. “Please.”

And there it is. The word you’ve been waiting for.

The desperation, written on every inch of him. It lies in the dampened hair, in the lipstick and wax, in the wrinkles of his unbuttoned shirt. The pleading expression you can only partially see, marred by the blindfold. His plea echoes in every part of his desperate, pretty little face with traces of you smudged all over it.

Gently, you reach out and place two fingers under his chin. Tilt it up toward you, ghosting your mouth over his. With your other hand, you do a final swipe of the ice up his chest - sending him shuddering - before you kiss him, and he melts into your touch.

He keeps his hands on the bed, though, just like you’d asked him to. 

Maybe he deserves a little reprieve.

“Touch me,” you whisper. 

His hands immediately flash up to you - first to your waist, before gliding up to your arms, thumbing over the ring on your left hand, then moving up and clutching gently at your jaw. Pulling you in, as if you aren’t already on top of him. Wanting you as close as he can possibly get.

Then his hands pull away from you, and travel upward - just like you’d anticipated. They go up to the blindfold, starting to tug, and only stop when you halt his action.

“Who said you could take it off?”

For a moment, Viktor freezes in place. Your words slowly register, and he lets out a huff.

“But I want to see you,” he pleads. 

Leaning in to nuzzle his neck, you tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. 

“Feel me,” you whisper, drawing him into a kiss. “You’ll see me later.”

He grumbles something under his breath, soft words mouthed against your lips, then reaches for you - caresses his fingers against your jaw. Kisses the area he’d touched, then moves onward. 

A callused thumb traces over your lips, over your cheek. Kisses follow in those areas, too. His movements are slow and teasing, because Viktor knows you just as well as you know him - knows you want him just as badly as he wants you. Knows that you’ll eventually cave, and how to break you down. 

What he doesn’t know is that there’s a new piece of lingerie under the robe you’re wearing. 

His lips trail down your neck, feather-light, warm and gentle. They flutter over your pulse, kiss at your clavicle, nibble down to your chest - where he finds the satin robe.

He pulls it aside without hesitation, but when his hands find soft lace underneath, he stalls - using his hands to take it in. The sheer top, where lace adorns the apex. If he could see it, how much it reveals, he’d be flushed from the ears down. From the way he breathes in when he traces his fingers over your nipples, there’s a good chance that he’s just found that detail out by himself.

The bralette is dotted with burgundy velvet hearts, which he runs his fingers over before sliding down. Just inches under where the top of the set ends, he finds the corset - black, fastened together in gold clips that he can’t see. His fingers trace the silhouette downward, where he finds the soft skin of your hips before he reaches the bottom of the set, which shows more skin than it covers. 

“Is this new?” he asks, sounding winded. “I don’t remember anything like this.”

“It’s new,” you croon, kissing at his neck again. He leans into the feeling of your lips before you pull away, bringing his hands back up to your ribs. “Just for you.”

“Describe it to me,” he requests. “What color is it?” 

“Burgundy,” you hum. “Your favorite. A two piece - sheer - with a black corset in between. The top and the bottom are lined with lace and velvet hearts.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, and he releases a soft moan.

“For me, and you won’t let me see it?”

“You’ll see it later. Trust me.”

At the sound of that, his fingers proceed - trailing up to your abdomen.

“How can someone so beautiful torture me like this?” he grumbles. “You have no- no idea. How much I want to take this off and look at you.”

His words - his hands - are setting you on fire, little by little. You won’t tell him, but your composure is weakening, crumbling as this goes on. You’re soaked for him, desperate for some relief, and, most of all, you miss the sight of his eyes.

But you still want to hold out - mostly, to see if he’ll beg again, but also just for the sake of it. 

Which is why you lean in and simply say, 

“Oh. I forgot to tell you.” 

It’s followed by a soft laugh, winding your hands over his where they sit on your hips. 

“I’m wearing red lipstick, too.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re being cruel. Let me see you.”

“You haven’t even properly felt me yet,” you protest. “Patience.”

His hands move, then - pulling at the bottom piece of lingerie, tugging it down to your thighs so your ass is left bare.

He leaves the top and the corset on - running his hands over them before he rolls a nipple between his fingers, humming as it goes hard through the fabric. Then he kisses you and moves his hands down again.

Down to your thighs, nipping at your neck before his thumb moves to your clit and you let out an embarrassingly desperate whine.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek. Cardamom. Pepper. Cinnamon. “You’ve been torturing yourself, too.”

“Is it torture if I enjoyed it?”

His mouth quirks - almost a smile, but not quite. 

“Well,” he says, “I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it, too.”

The pace of his hand increases - thumb rubbing circles around you, middle and ring finger sliding ever-so-slowly inside you. Then he goes faster, harder, relentless. Rendering you a trembling mess in seconds. Even blindfolded, he knows how to ruin you. 

You want him inside you, but most of all - 

You want to see him.

“Fuck it,” you murmur. “Take this stupid thing off.”

You lift the blindfold away from his eyes, and it’s like the flick of a switch - a flash of golden eyes before he kisses you hard, presses close to you, speeds up his rhythm and the force of his thrusts. 

When you’re on the edge, he curls his fingers - hitting the spot inside you that feels like lightning, makes your vision black out, turns your bones weak as you clench again and again around his fingers, clutching his shirt and panting out his name. Your ears ring into complete silence before you can think again.

Left in the aftermath is the sound of your breathing, labored and thick, and the feel of him underneath you. When you’re just beginning to be able to see again, Viktor removes his hand from you - leaning back as you whine, taking in the sight of you. 

“Look at you,” he breathes, tracing a finger over your lips. “Beautiful. You should see yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you mutter, spent. “You’re really handsome, you know.”

“So I’m told.”

Gently, his hand begins rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. He’s still rock-hard in his boxers - to a point that it must be painful. You intend to remedy that as soon as you’re able to fully function. 

After Viktor’s had his fill taking you in - running his hand around your top, taking in the corset - he finally looks down at himself.

Wax, lipstick, marks that are quickly bruising. He’s covered in you, decorated in your kiss and touch and ideas. 

“You’ve made quite a mess of me,” he says softly - almost entranced.

“I plan to make more,” you say, bolder than you feel. 

He looks up at you and traces his thumb over your cheek, laughing a little. 

“Soon,” he says. “First - where is that camera? I have a promise to keep.”

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader arcane #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor arcane #mywriting #mdni #viktor/reader #viktor/you

[buttermynutter]

Signed, Viktor | Table of Contents

Summary: Viktor x Reader, letters finding their way from desks to hearts Disclaimer: Tumblr version different (has more content and photos) from AO3/Wattpad Warnings: None

━━━━━━━━━━

✑ Letter 1

✒ Letter 2

✑ Letter 3

✒ Letter 4

✑ Letter 5

✒ Letter 6

✑ Letter 7

✒ Letter 8

✑ Letter 9

✒ Letter 10

✑ Letter 11

✒ Letter 12

✑ Letter 13

✒ Letter 14

✑ Letter 15

✒ Letter 16

✑ Letter 17

✒ Letter 18

#signed viktor #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #league of legends x you #league of legends x reader #arcane #league of legends #arcane x you #arcane viktor #viktor/reader #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor the machine herald #viktor/you #jayce arcane #jayce league of legends #jayce #series #letters

[linky-dinks]

Sorry yall. More werewolf Vik♡

#viktor #viktor x reader #reader insert #viktor/reader

[tealquacks]

A Whole Reindeer

Written for @gabrielle-six-oh-seven , for the Viktor Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy!!!

@zaunitearchives

…“You look like Rudolph,” you joke. If anyone looked like Rudolph, it would be you, since you were wearing a headband with antlers on it. He laughs, taking another unsteady step. His laugh was so charming, and now that he was drunk he was all the more unashamed. He snorts with laughter, then looks at you.

“I- I think. I think I would notice if I were a reindeer,” he slurred. You laugh.

“Would you?” you ask, “you’re pretty…”

You trail off, searching for the word, but his face somehow gets redder…

Read the rest on Ao3!!!!

#viktorarcanesecretsanta #viktor #arcane #viktor/reader

[billieinspace]

Just a Bit More Time Please.

Viktor x Reader One-Shot

CW: Angst, mentions of death, depressive themes.

WC: I’m not sure, mobile doesn’t lemme word count 😅

A/N: Brewing some angsty AU ideas and using tumblr as a vent until my friend gets home to hear them, oh and this is def not proof-read, sorry!🥲

————————————————————

Time is never justifiable, it’s never consistent, and it definitely isn’t fair.

Time was cruel, the capabilities of tearing people apart for no gain other than some life lessons or emotional regulation.

It didn’t take long after he got sick; the constant push and pull of being lovers was something that kept you both grounded and provided the added ability of shutting the rest of the world down.

You spent more nights in his hospital bed, gentle fingers brushing against his arms, watching as the machines worked to keep him hydrated and comfortable. He would smile at you softly,

“You’re too good to me, love.”, as you fought back the urge to cry. You’d give anything to make him better.

Jayce understood your lack of contribution to Hextech right now, he was prepared for the worst and felt it wasn’t his place to tell you what you could do with your time.

Each day was similar. You’d walk to the hospital, special desserts in hand, a book, some flowers, and the same green Post-It Notes with ‘Viktor, I love you so much!’ scribbled on it.

Last week Viktor could sit up properly, this week, it took effort and help, but he still managed. Your legs criss-crossed on the bed as you shared your dessert and whispered sweet nothings; as you read stories and cuddled; as you gave him a tender kiss on his forehead, and a chaste one on his dry lips, you stayed on that bed - until you left late at night with an ache in your thighs from the prolonged position.

The week after, it changed again. Viktor could hardly speak; he was fatigued and could barely lift his arms to wipe the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Please, just…just a little longer, Viktor.”

You whispered, knowing it wouldn’t do much, but the hope was still there that he’d miraculously recover and be back to the young, intelligent, mobile man he was when you first met.

He took his time to reassure you that he loved you.

“Dear, despite the circumstance, I will love you even if time ceases to exist for me…”The softness of his lips touched your knuckles as he spoke, “Do not cry, it will be okay.” He was lying, but you trusted him anyways.

No one prepared you for death. Not Jayce, not your family, not even Viktor himself.

The last time you saw him was the day he had left the world. His body still and cold, but yet, his face was peaceful despite the shallow dips and shadows that signified his weight loss over the past few weeks.

Normally, you wouldn’t have been allowed in there at that time, but the nurses took pity on your desperate cries for more time.

You curled up in the bed next to him as you talked to him about what you’ll do from here on out, flitting a tiny note from his bedside table. It was ornate in structure but delicate; the familiar handwriting across the folded piece read ‘My Dearest Y/N’. You ended the day with one last kiss to his cheek, promising him that you’ll do no wrong from now on, and then left. The bittersweet tears streaming down your face as a mournful goodbye left your lips toward the nurses.

Three weeks later, time got away. The darkness of your bedroom was suffocating but welcoming, the tears that stained your cheeks were just as strong as they were the day he passed, and the mess of quick snacks and half-glasses of wine were evidence that your coping mechanisms weren’t working.

Finding yourself groggy and achy, your mind slipped back to the note that remained under your pillow. Curiously, it took some mental preparation before shaky fingers played with the edge as it was opened.

‘Y/N. by the time you read this, I will have probably been gone for a while. I may not have been the best for you, but I guarantee you were the best for me. I know you think time is unfair and that my sickness prevented a long and happy lifestyle that most dream of, but I promise every second with you, was worth it. You gave me an experience I was scared to ever pursue, and I fell in love with you, thank you for giving me that.

I know when I am gone, you will want to isolate yourself; please don’t. Jayce needs you. You are my legacy, my future, and I know you will take it far; you are always amazing and brilliant. I want you to spend your time without me just as vibrantly as you did with me, whether it be in love, or enjoying the things that life has to discover. Until we meet again, I want you to have fantastic stories to share with me.

I mean this fully when I say this,

I love you, Y/N, no amount of time can change that.

Yours dearly,

-Viktor

P.S. Keep Jayce in check, we both know he has a tendency to get side-tracked.’

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

When you woke, the birds and the sun indicated it was still early. Keeping Viktor’s words in your head, you slunk out of bed, showered, ate, and got dressed. Your final step before heading out the door was a wishful thinking that you had to keep going for him, as you stuffed the letter in your pocket as a reminder.

Jayce wasn’t expecting you to walk into the lab that morning; a warm smile on his face as his long arms wrapped around you, telling you that he’s missed you. You took a deep breathe as you looked at the familiar but different lab with a sad smile,

“It’ll be okay, Viktor said so.”

He nodded and you two slipped into a quiet routine, enjoying each others company as an honour to your gone but never forgotten partner.

Healing takes time, but when there’s love and hope, it makes it just a little more bearable.

#viktor arcane #arcane #reader insert #viktor x you #viktor x reader #arcane fanfiction #viktor/reader #arcane viktor x reader #angst

[cretinous-creative]

The Scientist and the Stranger [ch 1]

Viktor x Fem!OC*

Warnings: nothing really, just some mad, sleep-deprived scientist gets some unintentional sleep and gets slapped

Summary: After days and (mostly) restless nights trying to figure out the hexcore, Viktor found a combination for a successful transmutation. Except it wasn’t, and now there’s a stranger in the lab.

* oc is not fleshed out yet and I might change it to be reader depending how I want this to develop

—————

A nasty bone crack splits through the lab as Viktor violently jerks his head to the left.

His hands squeeze shut and relaxes on the handles as he effortlessly blocks off the cramp in his right wrist.

His statue shrimp-shaped body aches everywhere, but his mind buzzes by with a new set of combinations after a brief rewriting in his calculations.

After days of dead ends and frustrated trails and errors.

Something is actually happening, he declared to himself.

With a growing unconscious smile, he enthusiastically whips around his stool for his goggles (which he haphazardly threw somewhere hours ago) before he accidentally inflicts irreparable eye damage.

As the hexcore spins and twists rapidly it seems to pulse and painfully expand against a force more in certain combinations and others. It’s electric blue gaining more light, expelling more energy then to all of a sudden —kaput. Dead. Well not really, more like tired. Back to a hazy glow as it use to be until Viktor reworked it again with a slightly different combination from his revisions.

The next one; it sends one more wave than before.

And the last one; more light runes floating in the air.

Until he has it in his mind.

The next, ultimately the last, successful one

Viktor’s panting and sweating. His slippery hands grip on the handles for dear life to stop himself from turning them. He needs to write it all down.

He moves with trembling excitement and discipline toward an inked abused journal, and dips his blue pen down in preparation for a new onslaught.

He bites his chapped lips in anticipation with each growing, curving stroke furiously pressed onto the page as it approaches the final symbol.

The last rune.

Crank it.

His gangly arms extend back to the hexcore handles and pour all of his frustrations and excitement into each pivot, push, crank—every movement— until he hears a click from the shell of the hexcore.

Viktor’s flinches from the tiny surprise. When did the hexcore click?

It’s frozen in place. Suspended yet twitching with unstable energy. In equilibrium.

“Oh—wha—I?” whispers slip from his lips as it

frowns in confusion. He looks over his journal at the combination again, he’s sure he did it correctly.

Everything is set so why isn't it doing what it’s supposed to?

Is he supposed to set it off?

Is it like an exothermic reaction where the reactants need a chemical start for the reaction to proceed?

Does he need to turn it one last time?

He stares at the core. Deeply.

Observing its slight movements and loaded energy. It looks like a bomb.

No it’s not a bomb.

“It’s supposed to help,” he cries out unexpectedly.

He hisss in and slowly exhales some air to calm himself from the small abrupt outburst.

This will stop the rejection. This will cure you. You’ll feel better soon. He assures himself.

“Oh!” He exclaims at the sudden insight. He needs one of those plants to see the result.

The exchange of energy. How can he be absentminded during this time! That’s a quick fix. He turns around to the corner but before he could depart from the stool he sees it be empty. He ran out. Well, he killed them all.

He turns back to the swollen hexcore. Its vines of blue flaring out and whipping back in. Its rune-assigned panels suspended in air with smaller light runes circling around the origin of energy, but dull runes on the panels. All dull except one looking right back at him.

Like a button.

His hand unconsciously pushes it like it’s association. Releasing every wave of energy pushed down like a spring. All to him.

Viktor shields his head with his arms as streaks of light surround and fly towards and past him. He feels himself being pulled yet pushed forward and accelerating with every moment. His squeezes eyes shut and he braces himself for the pain he’s about to meet.

Something yanks him back and he stumbles back until something hard and smooth pushes against him.

Everything around him is so bright and loud, and smells awful. Sickening sweet like rotting fruit.

Disgusting, he gags with his shirt pulled up and over his nose. His eyes finally adjust and he sees two girls with white and black painted faces with their shadowy-punk inspired fashion pushed against a long bathroom table top. Their clothing is what reminds him of the Undercity, but that doesn’t make sense.

“Get out before I beat your ass out of here,” the left girl’s voice drips with so much poison he swears he sees four fangs under her open frown.

Viktor doesn’t move. Actually he can’t move. His legs go numb beneath him, miraculously his head goes foggy.

“I’m—uh,” he mumbles out as he tries to find something to hold on from behind him. But his hands feel only flat vertical tile. His legs are shaking. He leans his body weight onto the tile.

Something brushes his vest and his attention turns upward. It’s the women, a lot closer now.

No wait, it's a different one. A much older woman.

“—you hear what I said?” She says with an odd accent.

“What?” Viktor says.

“How are you feeling dear? Good? Not good?” She says slowly and with concern.

“Not, not good,” he answers, bringing his hand to cover his eyes.

The stranger informs Viktor as he slowly slides down the tile,“We’re going to call for some help, and—and you’re going to be alright, right?”

What is going on? Where am I? What happened at the lab? Why am I not at the lab?! Did I teleport? Where did I teleport? Should I even assume I teleported? Why do I feel so weak? Did I walk here? Where is here?!

“Young man?” The stranger waves her hands in front of Viktor. He’s on the ground now. It’s very cold.

“The doctor is coming. Just wait, you’re lucky to be in a hospital,” she tells him.

“A hospital? I’m in the hospital?”

Did Jayce bring me here? Did I pass out?

Breathing suddenly becomes more difficult, it feels harder to swallow now. The tile is terribly cold and the light makes the white floor unbearable, but he doesn’t have the energy to look up.

“So he had just appeared all of a sudden and now he’s having a heart attack?”

“It looks like—wait no—I mean a panic attack. He’s not in there, he’s in the women’s!”

A shadow looms over him. Soon a green knee drops in his vision.

A wave of pain clubs the front of his head. His hand grips his forehead again. This is the worst all-nighter that I’ve pulled. I should’ve been asleep.

He feels something warm and soft with sharp edges, grip his chin and gently pull. Pulled to look at the kneeling lady in front of him.

“Sir, I need your attention, please tell me your name.”

The lights from before are returning around him and his body being pulled back from beyond the walls.

Out of alarm and panic, Viktor clasps on her forearms before his gravity shifts and shuts his eyes. He’s tilted back into the flying streaks of light now flying away from him.

Violently his momentum brakes. He tumbles back on a familiar ground with his pelvis hitting against the metal of his stool; he wobbles in place for a moment.

The scientist shrinks into himself as the lab’s scent of coffee and slight decomposition from the failed plants.

Relief fills his body. He’s in his sweet again lab and he opens his eyes to see the lady he had gripped into still in front of him

The lady is still in front of him like a ghost. Wide eyed, pale, and messy haired. She may have lost her glasses during the hexcore teleportation, but his main concern is how she’s about to scream.

His hands shoots up from under him, “Don’t,” his voice shakes. He tries to be as non-threatening as he can be,“You are safe,” he states as clearly as possible with his hands over her mouth. She shakes her head.

The moment quickly shifts as Viktor feels something warm drip from his nose. Confused, his eyes flicker, then the world drifts away from him into darkness. The man’s hands and head go limp and he bows towards the stranger. The woman instinctively grabs hold of his shoulders as he falls toward her.

“Woah, okay?”

There’s no response except shallow breaths.

“Hey, I need some answers,” she demands.

The woman shakes him back and forth, however it does nothing but swing his dangling head.

“Don’t you pass out on me. You need to explain what the fuck happened!” She fumed.

Unwilling to give up and is wholeheartedly about to breakdown, she grabs his oily brown hair behind his head pull his face back to deliver a very caring, tender—

SMACK!

It echoes across the space and the pervert's mouth hangs open. She swears she sees his cheek start to bloom pink.

“Ho-Kay. Calm. Calm down,” she whispered to herself.

Viktor’s unconscious twig body slumps onto the table as she slips out. The stranger stands to her full shaking height and takes in her mystical kidnapper’s room.

It’s night time but the last time she checked the clock the sun had just risen. Silver moonlight from the tall imposing window gently illuminates the space and creates a mysterious atmosphere. As if things beyond the imagination happen here. It’s unfamiliar yet she feels great comfort.

It’s just deja vu, she thinks as begins to move around.

The stranger silently snakes near the walls. She tries her best to see without her glasses but it’s a futile effort even with how bright the moon is. Step by step she examines the walls, the blurry yet shiny texture and confusing stains or shadows. Her hip bumps a table which she starts to follow with her finger tips dragging across the long cold countertop.

There are structures that seem like pipes near the window’s left side and a pile of things that she assumes to be pipes or gadgets on the right side.

Finally she’s in front of the window, yet she still can’t tell what is in front of her nor does it help give an idea where she is. Just the same familiar, excited feeling electrifying her muscles and brain without a clue why!

Why is she in this lab with this half-dead skeleton of a man? Why is there a glowing bluish-purplish object in front of him? She needs to leave but feels she has no incentive to.

Why is such a familiar lab—and that’s the hexcore—she realizes very late.

Right in front of her, (well) in front of the guy. In all its glory and (she imagines) smugness is the hexcore.

“Oh shit!” She runs to her kidnapper slash fainted-panic-attack-triggered, bathroom pervert. Panicking and pulling her hair, she looms over again but a few personal-bubble-popping inches from his face and brushes his rich chesnut hair away. A three worded question escapes her involuntarily, but she cringes at what she’s about to ask.

“It’s Hector right?”

Skip if you want…

Author note:

Constructive criticism about writing, grammar, storytelling and advice of any kind (such as formatting on tumblr) is welcomed because I have know idea I’d this looks readable or an eyesore

#Viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x oc #isekai #reader x viktor #viktor arcane x reader #viktor/reader #viktor x fem!reader #Viktor x fem!oc #the scientist and the stranger #Viktor x Isekai!reader #Viktor x Isekai!oc

[zg0nuwa]

i’m not switching between my hyperfixations because i’m autistic, i’m just a whore

#m. talk #leon kennedy x reader #neteyam x reader #dante sparda x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #sub zero mortal kombat #sub zero x reader #johnny cage x reader #astarion x reader #karlach x reader #star wars x reader #star wars #viktor arcane x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #soldier boy x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[multi-fandom-imagine]

【 “I’m not letting you go until you’ve either drenched the sheets, or passed out.” 】

↳ Overlord!Husk ✦ Lucifer Morningstar ✦ Vox ✦ Viktor Vasko ✦ Simon 'Ghost' Riley ✦ John Price ✦ Ren Hana ✦ Joel Miller ✦ Nanami Kento ✦ Ryomen Sukuna ✦ Toji Fushiguro ✦ Gojo Satoru

#Overlord!Husk #Overlord!Husk x reader #husk x reader #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #Viktor Vasko #viktor vasko x reader #vox #vox x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john price #john price x reader #ren hana #ren hana x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #Nanami Kento #nanami kento x reader #smut #Ryomen Sukuna #sukuna x reader #Toji Fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #Gojo Satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #hazbin hotel #lackadaisy

[academiaviktor]

Library Isolation | Viktor x Reader | SFW

Prompt: Viktor finds a discouraged reader in the old run-down library and cheers them up, consequentially admitting his feelings for them. Some sickly-victorian-boy-looking-mad-scientist-fluff. (Gender-neutral reader).

Warnings: Just fluff

Note: This is my first Viktor oneshot, but as a rabid writer with Viktor brain rot, it was bound to happen. Please enjoy<3

That familiar tip-tap of a cane echoed throughout the long-abandoned space, followed by the slight shuffle of feet. 

You knew it was Viktor at once, and while a part of you dreaded having to see anyone at that moment, a part of you was relieved. At least it was him and not anyone else. Viktor was the one person you trusted the most. 

The library was empty of all people, as it was the old one that used to serve the academy. When a new one was constructed with updated features and books, you were the only one who frequented the strangely haunting space. 

It was a quiet place, and nobody would disturb you—which came in handy more recently. 

Your head had been swimming with doubt after many of your experiments seemed to fail without any sign of hope ahead. You were discouraged, and it was difficult for you to be in the lab when nothing would work. 

“I know you are in here, y/n,” Viktor said with a light lift to his voice. “There’s no point in hiding.” 

“I’m not hiding,” you returned quietly from your spot on the old spiral staircase that lead nowhere. There was a pile of books around you, just the way you liked it. 

Viktor emerged from the light that poured in through the window, and his shadow cast across the floor. He turned to look in your direction, and a small smile appeared on his face. 

“How did you know?” You asked, voice lacking your usual determination and curiosity that Viktor often found endearing. 

“You have always been very fond of this place,” Viktor began, taking careful steps forward with this cane. “Especially when you aren’t exactly...erm how should I put it? Inspired?” 

With a sigh, you dropped your gaze and nodded. “You could say that.” 

“What has you down this time, y/n?” Viktor prompted you with a gentle tone. 

Viktor always seemed to know how to talk to you, even when you didn’t have the slightest clue of how to cheer yourself up. He was a caring soul, and you appreciated his friendship immensely. 

“It’s nothing Viktor, I don’t want to bother you about it. And you didn’t need to come all the way up here,” you said with a long gaze, feeling guilty for how far he had to walk in order to reach you. 

The stairs up to the old library were huge, and they were shaped in a spiral that reach the very top. Surely his journey with the cane was taxing on him. 

Viktor gave you a slightly amused sound as he moved even closer, so close that he was at the bottom of the steps. A playful smile became of his lips. Those ember eyes took you in. 

“You don’t need to worry about me, y/n. I don’t say this often, but a small break from the lab can be a good thing.”

A small smile tugged on your lips at that, since Viktor was the last person to talk about taking care of one’s personal wellbeing. He was notorious for his extensive days in the lab, hardly even taking breaks to eat. 

“While that is true, I don’t need you inuring yourself just to find me.”

Viktor’s body drew closer to your own, and your breath hitched at the proximity. His comforting scent filled your scenes—the one you’ve grown accustomed to after many sessions in the lab with him. It never failed to put you at ease. 

Viktor’s eyes connected with yours and a light smirk played on his mouth before he extended an arm beyond your head, where he grabbed one of the books and pulled back again. 

While you relaxed the moment more space was put between you, Viktor’s mesmerizing stare lingered. He chuckled and cracked open the book. “I wasn’t aware you were so concerned about my wellbeing.”

A light blush scattered across your cheeks at once, and you swallowed back the slight embarrassment. “How can science progress if you aren’t around to make it happen?” 

Viktor scanned the book with apparent interest until he met your gaze again. His lip pulled upward, slender fingers holding the cover as eloquently as he always did. “I could ask the same of you.” 

The mournful sigh left your chest once more, forced to look away from Viktor’s more intense stare. He was always right, even when you didn’t want to admit it. There was no point in hiding your sorrows when Viktor knew you so well. 

“Everything I’ve tried in the last two weeks hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Each test run fails before it even has the chance to start. I’m beginning to feel like I’m not cut out for this.” Your words were shameful, for you hated admitting defeat. It was always hard to swallow. 

Viktor tutted and closed the book before finding a new place for it. “The nature of our job is to hit dead ends from time to time, no? Isn’t the point of trial and error to weed out any possible outcomes?” 

“Yes, but this doesn’t seem like a roadblock I can find a solution to,” you said solemnly, chin rested on your palm. 

“You will get there eventually, y/n. You always do.” 

The frustration mounted within your chest. Not at Viktor, but at your own mind and the lack of progress you had made. “But you don’t get it. You always make it look so easy, Viktor. Like it comes to you so naturally.” 

“Nothing about what we do is easy. I had to work toward my ambitions much like you have, y/n. It never came to me naturally, it was only my keen interest to discover and learn that put me in the position I’m in today. I see that same curiosity in you. You need to keep trying and something will eventually give.” 

Viktor had a point like he always did, but it didn’t dispel your dwindling confidence. 

“I’m not good enough for this. It’s useless.” 

“You won’t talk about yourself like that while I’m here. I won’t listen to you put your brilliant mind down,” Viktor said with a more serious tone, leaning against the spiral stairs. “It is easy to grow impatient with these kinds of things, but we are working on this together. We will find a solution, and you will realize just how capable you truly are.” 

The words were heavy within your chest, shocked by Viktor’s conviction. You could only watch as he examined you completely. 

“Why do you have so much faith in me?” You asked, eyes full of conflicting emotions. 

“Because you have always had that same faith in me,” Viktor confessed, face softening. “When I hit a roadblock, you are always quick to assist me. Even if you don’t have a solution, you inspire me nevertheless.” 

Viktor was relieved the moment a more genuine smile fell on your face. “I inspire you? I thought it was the other way around.” 

A sheepish expression overcame Viktor’s face, and he shrugged. “You are a joy to have in the lab, y/n. Even if I don’t say it often, I appreciate your dedication. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

The blush returned to your cheeks as Viktor offered you a hand once he was sure and steady on his feet. “I must confess my admiration goes beyond your work in the lab.” 

You blinked hard at Viktor’s words while you put your hand in his palm, and his fingers closed around it gently. He pulled you to your feet and gazed upon you like you were a precious gemstone. His smile was even warmer and filled with something you had never seen in him before. 

“What?” 

With one hand in yours, Viktor allowed the other to caress your cheek as he moved closer. The light pressure of his skin on yours made you melt at once, warmed by the touch. 

You had never seen Viktor act this way, and it made your heart hammer in your chest. You had no idea. 

“I can’t stand how you speak of yourself when I think so highly of you. I have never met anyone as intelligent, caring, or beautiful as you. I have always treasured my time with you, my dove,” Viktor murmured softly, eyes big with genuine emotions. 

His face neared your own, lips mere inches away. The light fan of his breath against your mouth sent a shiver down your spine. “I often thought my feelings were unrequited, but seeing that look on your face, I’m inclined to believe you feel the same.” 

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and soaked in the softness of his touch. You nodded against his hand. “Y-yes, Viktor.”

The intrigued grin tempted his lips, and Viktor allowed his nose to move next to your own, teasing those anticipating hitches in your breathing out of you. “So you wouldn’t mind if I showed you how much I truly care?” 

You shook your head carefully, so intrigued by your proximity. You felt as Viktor’s body pressed against your own, and he moved both hands to hold your face affectionately. 

His thumbs rubbed against your cheeks carefully before he pressed his lips against yours softly. 

The contact was so tender at first that you hardly felt it. But the brush of his skin against yours nearly zapped you with excitement. The quiet squeak of contentment that came from you amused Viktor. 

He hummed into the kiss and deepened it, pulling you impossibly close to him. Your head spun from how enthralling the affection was, and you never wanted it to end. 

Viktor consumed your senses, and you felt lightheaded from how desperately you both needed to feel more. Your lips melded together beautifully, as if you had done so many times before. 

The gentle beat of Viktor’s heart against your chest sparked warmth to flood your entire body. It was perfect, and you didn’t realize how badly you needed it until that moment.

You mourned the absence of his lips the moment Viktor pulled away slowly, and he smiled down at you. His hands remained in their place against your jaw, in which your arms wrapped around Viktor’s slender waist. 

“Now you know,” Viktor whispered against your lips, completely taken by the sight of you. 

Unable to speak, you simply closed the space between you once again and kissed Viktor like you wouldn’t get the chance again. 

The affection aroused a new inspiration within you, as if anything were possible then. You felt less resistant about heading back to the lab, yet you knew Viktor’s confession would only cause more distractions during your time together. 

In the end, it was worth it.

...

I’m open to requests!

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor/reader #viktor oneshot #viktor imagine #viktor fluff #gender neutral reader

[thehistoriangirl]

HI I JUST CAME FROM AO3 I READ YOUR VIK/READER STORY AND I THINK ITS AWESOME AND I HAD TO TELL YOU

Also, didn't knew that requests were open, can i request a Vik/reader oneshot where Vik finds us crying and comforts us?

Have a good day/afternoon/night AND ALSO I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE OK BYE

Hi! Omg thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 I'm so glad you enjoy them <33

I'm sorry for taking so long 😭 I found it more difficult to do than I thought it'd be jkfjhdjf but I hope you like it :3

You, My Solace

Viktor x gn!Reader----1.4K------SFW

Tags: Established Relationship| Angst & Comfort| Domestic Fluff

The living room was dark when Viktor entered the apartment you two shared. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, with no light in sight as he walked further in. With no sight of you either. Furrowing, Viktor considered the possibility of being home too early, that at any moment, you would be leaving your coat messily over the couch to plant yourself in front of him for a welcome home kiss.

Though the clock hung on the wall marked 8:06 PM when he peeked his head in the ajar door, looking at the amorph figure huddled in bed.

Viktor smiled, feeling the fluffy carpet around the bed as he walked over, the mattress dipping under his weight. One of his hands enveloped your ankle, giving it a playful pull.

He was expecting you to unveil your face from the blanket, looking at him with sleepy eyes, a slow smile expanding on your lips.

Instead, your body lay there with no reaction. Upon further inspection, Viktor heard you sniffling against a pillow.

“My love?” Viktor whispered, unsure how to proceed. “What’s wrong?”

Your movements under the blanket made it ripple. Viktor extended his arm to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, but your voice came with a broken tune to stop him with a weak: "No." Then, a pause. "…please."

It was shame, then. The passing memory of the issue about turning in or off the light the first time you made love washed over him, recognizing a tiny fragment of your feelings even if he couldn’t read your face.

Viktor rested his hand on your hip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your answer came too stretched out in the silence that Viktor was starting to think it was better to go to the kitchen and make you a hot beverage.

“I didn’t get the job,” you said, voice plain. Viktor felt his heart pool at his feet, and then slip between the creaks of the floorboards. “Because I guess I’m not as competent as I thought.”

He climbed into bed, ignoring that his leg brace pressed painfully against his knee as he moved to lay next to you, spooning the outlines of your body while only putting one hand over your shoulder.

“Love…”

“No,” you cut him, and Viktor winced. “I don’t want your pity.”

He retreated his hand. “Do you want to be alone for a while?” Viktor could do that, he knew you needed your time to unwind just as he did, from time to time. But even so, part of him felt stiff with anxiety about leaving you on your own while you were like this.

You hipped, the dam starting to break in the shaky threads of your voice. “N-no...” The blanket slipped out your face when you looked at him, with puffy eyes and trembling lips. His heart squeezed painfully. How long have you been crying? "N-no, please."

“Come here,” he muttered, hugging your torso as he cradled you on his lap, your head in the crook of his neck so Viktor could easily pepper your face in kisses to try and, if not dry your tears off, at least to give you the confidence you needed to cry in front of him, knowing that he’ll never judge you.

Your arms tangled in his shoulders, and you smell the familiar essence of him, with the detergent of his clothes matching yours, the burned oil and melted metal from all his working hours in the lab. It grounded you, your eyes closed so everything else would fade away.

“You aren’t inadequate, my love.” Viktor kissed the top of your head. “I’m sure there’s a job for you.” His eyes were shiny even with the lamps off, with only the dimmed light of the streetlamps below. “Rejection hurts a lot, but you shouldn’t take it personally.”

“But I failed—”

"Many things are out of your control. That you don't get the wished result out of them doesn't mean you are the problem." He stopped, dragging you into a more comfortable position now that his right leg started to cramp. "Remember what you always said to me when my prototypes don't work?"

As you shook your head, the rebel locks of your hair brushed his neck. You had a very good memory, and for the way you were biting your lip, eyes avoiding him, Viktor thought that you had never been a good liar.

"It's alright. I'll remind you." His thumb was warm against the wet streaks of tears down your cheeks. He looked at your lips swollen from crying for so long. "Your worth isn't quantifiable in your successes," Viktor muttered, his lips brushing your forehead. "You shouldn't feel less worthy just because you failed."

His shrug made you rest your head on his chest instead, the gentle rhythm of his heart soothing your palpitating headache. “I didn’t understand it at first, but you’re right. I’m more than Viktor the inventor; and you’re more than your job, too.”

You looked up at him, the hand cupping your cheek and meeting yours as you started to dry the tears away with harsh brushes of your palm. Viktor took your hand gently, fingers interlacing. "Please be kind to yourself, my love. It's alright to cry, too. I just wanted to remind you that you're worthy, but you can cry until your heart feels a little lighter, yes? I'll be right here if you want."

His gentle words formed a knot in your throat. Part of you wanted to stop altogether, to point a hand at your reflection in the mirror to mock how childish you were behaving. The other echoed with Viktor’s voice, filling with warm your stomach, pulling the pilling up feelings out in a trembling jaw.

Your vision started to get fuzzy, a sob leaving your lips as you hide your face against his vest, not caring that the outline of his buttons would get marked on your cheek. His hand rubbed circles on your back and whispered words moved the hairs around your ears. Half the time you were too caught up in your cries that you didn't hear them correctly, but as they started growing fainter his loving words made you put him closer.

“I’ll help you try again,” he was saying. “I’m sure that if we tried again enough times, we’ll get somewhere. Yes? Yes, like when you test theories in the lab… But for now, you shall rest. You deserve it. Have you eaten something?”

You shook your head again, your cheeks hot from shame.

"Then I'll cook something. I think there are some leftovers from yesterday's dinner, isn't it? I'll go serve us a plate." He smiled, trying you on the bed without disturbing you. You started to push the blanket away as if you wished to stand up. "No, no. It's fine. I can do it alone this time."

“I think… I think I would like to keep my mind busy,” you commented.

Viktor nodded. “Of course. Then let’s go. I think we can prepare some hot cocoa. What do you say?”

A small smile started to tug the corners of your lips. “With some cookies?”

He chuckled, happy that at least you were starting to develop an appetite. "With some cookies, yes. Shall we?" He said, his hand extended to you once he was standing again.

You nodded, your hand taking his as you propel yourself out of bed, with the blanket pooling at your feet. You walked out of the room, turning on the lamps in the living room and the kitchen. The blanket that cocooned you all evening was now thrown on the couch, used as a refuge for your cold feet as you cuddled in it after eating.

All the feelings pouring out of you made you feel exhausted now that your mind was somewhat clearer. Viktor was hugging you as you turned your head toward him, half-hiding his neck.

He was reading something about bioengineering from a book, the seal of the Academy library on its cover. Even if you couldn’t understand what he was saying, you relish in the soft cadence of his voice that reverberated in his chest, and then all over you.

Your eyes slowly closed, eyelids fluttering, trying to fight against the sleep clouding your mind.

Viktor kissed the top of your head. “Goodnight, my dear. I love you.”

You tried to say: "I love you, too," though your lips barely moved with a long 'mmmm' sound. But it didn't matter, because Viktor knew to read all your little noises, your body language, how your eyes seemed to write down all the answers you couldn't dare to say out loud.

He looked down at you, a gentle smile on his lips, his golden eyes twinkling like stars that would assure you that tonight would be filled with only peaceful dreams…

#viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane imagines #arcane x gender neutral reader #viktor fanfic #viktor fanfiction #viktor/reader #viktor/you #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction

[beesincognito]

Perfect Strangers part one: The Academy

Viktor x Fem!reader (SFW)

part two

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in later parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot. The story will split at some point and you choose which ending you want to read. Kind of self-indulgent... Based on interactions in platonic and romantic relationships with the men in my life.)

*no warnings for this part*

Word Count:  2,857

******

Viktor was anxious, but masked it with a newfound sense of ambition as he stepped onto the grounds of The University of Piltover for the first time. He was only twenty and in a completely new city. Between his life in Entresol, and now Piltover, it was incomparable. He already knew he was capable of excelling with his work after already improving peoples’ lives back at home. It was only a matter of using the facilities and resources here to greatly expand his research. Then he could help people on a much larger scale instead of improving a factory here and there back in Zaun. 

     He followed the crowd of new students, taking in all of the chatter and splendor surrounding him. The university was so unnecessarily grand above him as he passed through an obnoxiously large doorway gilded in gold. Inside of the first hall the chatter grew to a low roar as every sound began to echo off of the walls.

******

That morning had been anything but exciting for you as you struggled to get out of bed. Filled with a sense of dread as you were stepping well past the point of no return. Today was orientation day at the academy as well as the last day to respond to the artists’ guild. Piltover’s guilds were nothing to scoff at, especially now when you had been so close to becoming one of their apprentices. 

     Stale hotel furniture greeted you as you finally sat up in bed and gave your aching back a much needed stretch. You couldn’t believe you weren’t going to the guild and there was nothing you could do about it at this point. Arguments had filled your family home for years about what you were going to do with your life. Applying to the artisan guild without your parent’s knowledge was your first act of rebellion in your golden-child life. Getting in didn’t even seem like a possibility until you had received a letter, only days before orientation, announcing your acceptance into the apprenticeship program.

     You had already accepted your seat at the academy by then, which your parents were overjoyed by after getting what they so desperately wanted, for you of course. Your family had always been from Piltover, as long as you could remember, but your parents believed in building your own legacy before joining the family business. Generations of your family had made names for themselves, all separate from the business. It was up to you to maintain your life and status in Piltover. At least they weren’t trying to use you for their own gain, they were just worried about giving you the best life possible by building character. Being an artist was not character building in their eyes

     Taking your sweet time getting ready was your last act of a subtle rebellion for no one else to see or know about. It wasn’t like you were even running late, sleep had eluded you all morning once the sun peeked its ugly face through the useless sheer curtains; if anything you were early. 

     Uniforms were nothing new to you, getting ready without having to think about your outfit choice was one less thing to worry about. At least the uniforms made you feel more confident, it was almost like a status symbol. You were one of Piltover’s “finest and brightest” like your parents kept saying for years every time your school reports were sent home. Sometimes you wished you never tried so hard in academics, then maybe you’d be at the artisan guild learning how to beautify the city, and possibly beyond, instead.

     Just in case boredom occurred, you tucked your latest sketch book into your, mostly empty, bag. Shoving your feet into the standard school loafers, you gradually made your way out of the hotel room and through the lobby. Breathing in the fresh air, or at least as fresh as a concrete city could feel. 

     People were everywhere, walking and talking like they belonged. Obviously they did, but something so mundane never came easy to you. You couldn’t help but stare too long at others or everything around you, overthinking about everything, as you kept your stride slow and controlled. Getting worked up wasn’t on your list of things to do before classes even began. You hadn’t even moved into your dorm yet. 

     There was a crowd in the courtyard of the campus. Not a huge crowd, but it must’ve been the new students. Imagining a sea of uniforms was overkill now that you could see everyone in person and realized not everyone who applied was accepted into the academy. Something about that made you feel special, especially when this whole situation was never your first choice.

     Walking towards the lecture hall filled you with a good kind of excitement for the first time during this whole ordeal. 

     That was when you first saw him all those years ago. You were just trying to survive the crowd as you were pushed back and forth between people that seemed to tower over you. Maybe it was just your social anxiety making everything seem so much larger than it actually was. The noise was almost overwhelming. Entranced by him, from across the crowd as everyone began to pour into the lecture hall, you felt calmer. Remembering you needed to feign some sense of grace, these people were going to be your peers after all. 

     Even though he didn’t tower over everyone else, you kept seeing his tousled chestnut hair peeking out through the crowd when you’d lose sight of him. 

     He was handsome. Shamelessly, but still inconspicuous enough to not be noticed, nudging your way through the crowd you finally found yourself close to him. Given that it was your first day on your own, you no longer had childhood classmates alongside you to keep company with which meant you needed to try and make real connections. Orientation was the way to start. Familiarity wasn’t going to get you anywhere at the academy. Plus, he seemed shy, with the way he was looking around and avoiding people, and so were you usually. This sneaking dance through the crowd was a first for you and it made you a little giddy, not in a romantic way. Maybe you were a little proud of taking the first steps by yourself for once. 

     When you had your bag settled under the seat behind your feet, you noticed he was holding a cane between his knees as he continued to look around the spacious building in awe. The way he seemed to be soaking everything in told you he wasn’t from around here. Maybe he’d just never seen the university before. You let your gaze linger for too long around his eyes because he turned suddenly and caught you staring. You couldn’t do anything else besides pretend you were staring at the scene behind him and awkwardly grin as you turned away. Suddenly you were uncomfortable with the situation you created.

     “Big room,” you practically have to squeeze out when it was your turn to feel his continuous stare. 

     “Yes, it is.” He smiled as he spoke which put you at ease.

     “I haven’t been here for a while, I did a tour a few years ago.”

     “So you’ve had your sights set on this place?” 

     You hesitated and waved your hands awkwardly while trying to formulate an answer that didn’t insult everyone in the room, “You could say I have ambitious parents. I don’t hate the opportunity even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

     Your answer seemed to intrigue him, “What would you rather be doing? Wasn’t it hard enough getting here?” There wasn’t sass or judgment in his questioning, just curiosity. 

     “It feels wrong to say it here, but I was training to be an artist. My academic skills were somewhat ‘impressive’, or at least that’s what they said,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and it felt rude immediately. You made an awkward waving gesture with your hand to try and focus, “eh, so I was encouraged to pursue a more academic route. I’ve settled on mechanical engineering for now and yes it was very hard for me to get here.”

     “Whether you wanted this or not, you have enough passion for it to have worked out so far.”

     His words were encouraging and he seemed sweet which was already making you feel flustered inside. “Thanks, now we just have to see if I survive.” You gave a small shrug and slouched in your uncomfortable seat. 

     You both continued to whisper comments here and there throughout orientation. It was long and you could hear a snore every once in a while as quotes about progress and innovation flew over your head. You figured you would be seeing him occasionally as your tracks had a lot of similarities so there was no rush to ask for his life story.

     When you had stopped talking you sketched in your book, occasionally feeling him shift to watch you work. The fresh smell of his body wash made you blush when you were so used to being around your fathers business partners smelling like cigars and expensive cologne. It made you tuck into your seat further as you furiously sketched people around you in the lecture hall. Ignoring the intrusive thoughts you had about this stranger.

     “What’s your name?” you whisper once your nose was able to part ways with your sketches.

     “Viktor,” he straightened his back, sitting up from watching you work, “you?”

     “y/n.”

     “That’s a nice name,” his smile made you blush as you went back to your book. 

     When orientation ended you offered to walk together and continue talking. Students wouldn’t be moving into their dorms for another week so you both had until then to explore this part of the city. Your parents hadn’t been keen on traveling back and forth twice just to get you moved in so they had set you up in a hotel for the week. However Viktor said he was already moved into a room given his circumstance, but admitted he appreciated the company. 

     “I figured you were from out of town,” you teased as you meandered around the grounds. 

     “What makes you say that?” his eyes felt so intense to you. From his perspective he thought he didn’t stand out too much at a first glance.

     “Everything seemed dazzling to you back there,” you gestured to the lecture hall you had both just left. It was a fancy building, but when you grow up around everything looking luxurious you don’t really notice it anymore. 

     “Well… you’re right, I’m from the edge of… Entresol, I transferred from the Academy of Techmaturgy,” he didn’t look at you as he said this. Almost as if he was awaiting some sort of judgment. 

     “Wait, that's… in Zaun. You must have worked so hard to get here,” you grinned and continued to walk in an effort to make him feel at ease being so far out of his element. “Was there somewhere you wanted to go? I can leave you alone if you’d like; we’ll most likely have some classes together anyways.”

     He considered doing what he always did, which was spend the rest of the day, and following week and a half, alone before having to attend classes. He was pretty set in his ways of just working all of the time in his lab in Zaun. Even as a child he was often alone, not intentionally. It couldn’t hurt to start interacting with someone, you seemed nice and not overbearing. What he feared was potential friends losing interest in his company if he couldn’t keep up with them physically. For him that just meant working more to prove himself. 

     His grip on his cane tightened and his knuckles were whiter than his already pale skin. “It would be nice to have company. I was going to visit the library before calling it a night.”

     As you both walked along a quiet path, listening to the city around you hum, the occasional tapping of his metal cane against the hard ground kept you both at the same steady pace. Your time at the library was relaxing as you looked through research books that you undoubtedly would have to reference later in the semester. There were private study areas that Viktor seemed to especially enjoy as you both were habitual loners. 

     You both finished off the evening with a stop to get a couple of hot drinks before you intended to part ways with him and leave it up to chance to run into him again eventually. It was a large campus.

     “I’ll see you around, Viktor,” you give him a soft smile and slowly stand from your shared café table.

     “Wait, y/n- I uh was,” the clatter of his cane stopped you in your tracks as he reached to pick it back up, “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

     This took you by surprise as the intentions of his innocent offer were lost on you, making your mind wander elsewhere. You stammered and made a quizzical gesture with your hands. 

     “You wanted to come back to my place?” you teased. Maybe you were emboldened by your change in scenery being far from your strict parents. It wouldn’t hurt if he really did want to come back to your room.

     Embarrassed at the realization of what he must have implied, he raised his free hand and waved it nervously with a forced smile.

     “No not, ehm, not like that. I-” he sheepishly chuckled as he stood from his seat slowly and you both shared toothy grins as you walked away from the café. Laugher cured whatever awkwardness Viktor had felt for that short moment. 

     Part of you felt a little disappointed, but you knew he was just being a gentleman so instead you chose to be amused. This whole day had been out of your comfort zone and contrary to your usual behavior, throwing caution to the wind was far from off the table if Viktor changed his mind by the time you reached your door. Perhaps it felt freeing to expect jumping into bed with someone you just met because there wasn’t much to lose, no long relationship to ruin, only a budding one. 

     Walking back to the hotel wasn’t awkward in the slightest, if anything it was more jovial than the entire evening had been. A metaphorical baseline had been drawn and you both settled in comfortably as perfect strangers. 

******

The rest of the week was the most socializing you’d ever done with a person one on one, especially with someone you just met. Viktor was different, he was emotionally complex and passionate about his research. It was inspiring to hear him talk about his life in the undercity and how he only wanted to help people in need. Listening to him felt like a kind of meditation just letting his mind wander as you drew. 

     Viktor hadn’t intended on seeing you every single day of the week, it’s just how it happened. The following morning you had seen him reading by himself on a bench and you greeted him awkwardly. He was polite and asked you how you slept, which made you blush. You thought he was just being polite, but he was honest and said you looked stressed.

     “I didn’t really sleep, I stayed up to read. Couldn’t pass out afterwards.”

     “Nervous?” 

     “Always, it seems…” you tried to quietly laugh it off with the roll of your eyes as he smiled at you. That damn grin. You’d never interacted with someone like this before even though it was probably simple for most people.

     He offered to go for a short walk and you both got tea at the campus café. That short walk turned into a late lunch, which turned into reading together in the library, and then more walking. Not before long, you both realized the entire day had passed you by, but it didn’t feel wasted and you both felt rather relaxed instead. 

     Viktor, quite the gentleman, offered to walk you back to your hotel room again, but you could tell his leg was bothering him. He was good at hiding it most of the time, slowing down instead of swaying against his cane or expressing discomfort. You just patted his arm and let him know he didn’t have to even though it was nice.

     The rest of the week pretty much went that same way where you would either run into each other exploring the campus or meet up at a spot you agreed upon the previous day. It was intoxicating getting to be with each other even though you’d just met that week, but it felt like so much longer already.

     There was nothing romantic in the air as far as you could tell, just having this new platonic friendship, where he seemed eager to be around you as well, was wonderful. 

     At night when you were alone in the dark and struggled to sleep, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to Viktor.

******

Thank you for making it to the end :)  more to come soon!

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #reader x viktor #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor/reader #reader/viktor #viktor arcane x reader #arcane reader insert #first time sharing a fic and I am so nervous and scared I have most of it written out because I was too scared to share it #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor x you #perfect strangers

[angelltheninth]

how about arcane x reader with how they act when there drunk?

(I imagine Vi to be quite the flirt lol)

Please and thank you!

Oh boy, yeah, I bet they would all be fun in their own way.

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Silco, Vander, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, drinking alcohol, flirting, cuddles, teasing, literal sleeping together, headache

A/N: I'm really tired today so I'll make this one quick. I really hope it's just a cold.

Jinx is a really happy drunk. If you think she's hyperactive when she's sober then you haven't seen anything yet. You can hardly keep up with the things that she's talking about and they begin to get less and less understandable. The only way to get her to stop is to kiss her.

Vi does get very flirty with you after a few drinks. Usually she's more of a woman of actions then words but she really loosens up with her feelings when she's drunk. She has nothing but compliments to give you, even as her eyes drift closed she needs to tell you she loves you.

Caitlyn will get a lot more touchy with you. She calls you her darling at the end of every sentence like she wants to make sure everyone gets that you're together. As if the many kisses you've shared weren't enough of a message to them.

Ekko is a huge cuddler when he drinks. He will wrap his arms around you and keep you close against him, absentmindedly kissing your neck. There's nowhere he would rather be right now then holding you against him, slightly buzzed but really happy.

Silco lets himself fall asleep on your shoulder when he gets drunk. But just because he's asleep doesn't mean he's ready to let you go just yet. One of his arms still has a hold on you, keeping you by his side until he wakes up, reacting to every forehead kiss with a smile.

Vander actually starts singing when he's drunk. He has a nice voice too but he would never take that compliment without getting drunk first. That's why everyone really looks forward to him at any kind of celebration, it's always loud with him around.

Sevika can't stop kissing you when she gets drunk. Won't let anything stop her in her quest of making you breathless, not even you telling her she needs to sleep this off. Yes, her headache will be horrible the next day, but a kiss can fix that too.

Viktor doesn't drink that often actually but when he does he goes off on a million different tirades. He changes topics way too quickly too, laughing every time he manages to confuse you. He also talks about how lucky he is to have you in his life, so happy.

Jayce insists that he can carry you to bed while he's drunk. Although he ends up tripping over his own feet and the both of you fall down, very ungracefully. He won't let that get in the way of his kisses, but he does fall asleep fairly quickly so you're left cuddling with him.

Mel only drinks at celebrations and even then she rarely gets drunk, she has a reputation to keep after all. When she does get drunk she can get very openly affectionate, so much so that you have to lead her away because you can't handle her teasing without kissing her.

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[buttermynutter]

Signed, Viktor | 11/18

Transcript:

Resident impromptu marine biologist,

The flowers are thriving, you can see them from even the sidewalk below your balcony! I didn’t doubt you could grow them from just cuttings, but I’m still a bit relieved because, to be honest, I picked the types solely on their names. Fuchsia is simply too interesting of a word for me to dismiss.

Speaking of thriving, I’m sure the “mermaid” is doing just as well. Perhaps you shouldn’t have convinced that child the manatee was really a lost species, but I suppose that’s what he deserves for pounding on the glass so much - he should prototype inventions of the Talis family.

As you know, I lived near a river in the Undercity, but our visit was the first time I had seen anything larger than a minnow or crawfish. It was simply magical, though we probably shouldn’t have gotten candy floss before the whale show - after the splash, it seemed more like a disappearing act. I wasn’t aware creatures could grow that large! Rio was already a spectacle to me, though it was most likely because of how small I was at the time.

I’m sorry for cutting this reflection short - I realize our visit was already a week ago anyway, yet that doesn’t stop it from rebounding around my head like you did from glass pane to glass pane. I understand you were excited, but that won’t stop me from reminding you that you identified staff members inside the tanks cleaning as different species of fish twice.

Instead, I wanted to speak of last night, hopefully while seeming as much as like I am directly talking to you as I can. Ironic when I could quite literally do so by simply knocking on the door to your quarters, I know, but I thought it would be the most fitting in a letter - at least, the most sentimental. (Not to mention that I am tremendously anxious, but I’d rather not think of it at the moment.)

Speaking of sentimental, did you know that the café - the one we had our first meeting off school grounds at - has closed down? I could hardly believe it when I saw it this morning since I wanted to surprise you with a drink, but I've heard they're merely moving, so it should still be nearby.

Also, do you happen to remember the sachet of herbs you gave me? I know you told me it was only an old wive's tale that it helps with allergies, but I genuinely feel that my sinuses are clearer. If only all ailments could be cured so easily.

Wait, I'm getting off track - I can't believe I've had not one but two tangents in writing. I promise these notes aren’t usually this nerve-wracking, but this letter carries considerable weight; so much so that I am delivering it myself (again, a bit redundant, but I like to think it adds to the charm).

If there is one thing I may ask of you, it would be to please not think of me any differently.

Because of last night, an internal cauldron that I have been carrying for quite a while has finally boiled over. It had been brewing ever since you shook my hand across the library table, but the last evening simply pushed it over the edge. Everything about it seemed tailored to pull me to that realization; from our journey in continuing to find out which key belonged where to chasing those discoveries to the water wheel outside.

We didn't trade many words sitting on that ledge, but I'd never felt closer to somebody. I know I've told you I’m not one for physical affection, even avoiding an embrace or two from you, but I regret it immensely. Goodness, I think that plant from so long ago had held you longer than I ever have.

However, I have reason to believed that has all changed. Because of you, I've found out why people hug, why friends link arms, why a single pat on the hand can be important, why a brush on the shoulder can linger for hours. Yesterday, and so many days before, I felt, well... received, I suppose. I couldn't play with the Zaun children, I couldn't travel with the academy students, but I don't have to with you - because there's nothing else I want to see.

I felt like with my arms around you, I never had to leave that spot, never had to pick up my cane again, like I could merely drink in your happiness and live forever.

Above all, you've stirred the heated coals of my lost faith in myself and my scientific proficiency into a renewed smolder; that aspect heated the cauldron before I even saw your face. A little drop of dreams can only go so far, but you've turned both yours and mine into a river.

And I don't plan on building a dam anytime soon. Like we have all these months, I still want to dodge flashlights in the dark with you, to formulate increasingly outrageous excuses when they inevitably land on us, to ensure that you get more from this academy than an assistant job and a metal brace. To put it simply, I'm sure you've heard of the term "Cupid's arrow". In my case, he must've used a rifle - and he's a terribly good shot.

Perhaps this is all a bit forward. I hope you are not uncomfortable or feel obliged to be mutual in this, anything but that. I just felt it was only right to tell you. After all, are we not for progress?

By botanical (though maybe not scientific) terms, the tree of my life had become barren, and I could barely remember when my potential was a promise instead of a regret. When you came to sit under its branches they not only bore fruit, but also more types than I could ever imagine. I’m not certain of much in this world, but I know indefinitely that you are beautiful and that I want us to pick every fruit on that tree until the only thing left for us is to touch the stars.

I don't know, I may be overcomplicating this. In the end, I only have to use a few words to describe how I feel.

I love you.

♥ Viktor

━━━━━━━

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