#V ( )

[nonightingalesinberkelysquare]

GOOD OMENS 3 SPECULATION

kiss

[hy6erion]

I’m been frothing at the mouth over perv!Viktor.

Would you be able to write a little something with gn!reader being comfy cuddling with Viktor and him getting unbelievably turned on by it?

Like he’s trying to be good because he doesn’t want you to know but he can’t help but press you a little closer… breathe you in a little more… this can be coupled with whatever else you have in mind (panty stealing, voyeurism, etc etc).

Your writing is so beautiful, I swear. 🖤

sacrament — viktor x reader

synopsis: because he worships you the only way he knows how—quietly. obsessively

cw: gn! reader, explicit, perv! viktor, voyeurism, somnophilia, masturbation (viktor), grinding/ cumming untouched, obsession

a/n: you’re so sweet, thank you! perv viktor is also literally CONSUMING me, i need him so bad

fanart by @/ edwintarm on twitter / X

The first time Viktor did it, it had been late.

You were curled into him the same way you always were—sweetly tangled in sleep, breath warm against his collarbone, your skin flushed from the heat under the blanket. His body had betrayed him without warning. He hadn’t even touched you. He never would—not really, not without your permission.

But…

He’d stared at you for hours that night, eyes burning.

He’d done it. Quietly. Above you. One hand shoved into his pants, stroking his cock so slowly it made his eyes roll back in his skull. Your soft breathing never changed. You never stirred. And when he came—biting down into the crook of his elbow to muffle it—it was the hardest he’d come in his life.

It never should have happened again.

But it did.

Many, many times.

Now? Now he was rotting from the inside.

You didn’t know what you were doing to him. You never did. Tonight was no different.

You laid across his lap, draped over his thigh like something gift-wrapped just for him. His old sweater framing your body, the hem barely covering the tops of your thighs. No pants. Just bare legs pressed against him.

You yawned. Rubbed your cheek into his chest. Mumbled something drowsy and sweet.

He thought he might die on the spot.

His cock was already twitching in his pants.

Just a single glance at your sleepy face and he was hard. Pathetically, aching hard. Again. His palm rested gently on your hip, like it was harmless. Like it wasn’t his anchor to sanity right now.

Because his other hand?

It was clenched on the couch cushion. White-knuckled. Veins raised. Fighting the urge to slide down his own pants and do what he always did once you fell asleep.

But tonight was different.

Because you hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Not quite.

Which made everything worse.

“Mm… Vik” you breathed, sleepy and sugar-sweet, not even opening your eyes.

A shiver carved down his spine. You didn’t know what that nickname did to him. You couldn’t. It made him ache in places he didn’t know could ache. It made his cock kick against his thigh, trapped and throbbing inside his pants.

“Yes?” he rasped, voice wrecked already.

You only hummed in response and nestled closer. Closer. Your thigh sliding between his. Your cheek against his chest, lips just barely parted against the fabric. The shape of your body molding against him like it belonged there.

He nearly bucked.

He could feel your body heat soaking into his hip. The way your skin kissed his, even through layers. And when you exhaled? A tiny, hot breath? It seeped straight through him.

He could smell you again.

That scent he’d memorized by now.

Clean skin. A little sweat. Sleep. You. So intoxicating it made his cock throb, leak. A sticky bead already forming beneath the fabric.

His breathing picked up. Not loud. Just ragged. Controlled—but just barely.

Your weight against him, your warmth, your soft, natural sound as you relaxed more deeply—he was soaking in it, marinating in it. Slowly going mad.

He should leave.

Get up. Go to the bathroom. Rub one out furiously in silence and come back.

But he didn’t. He just sat there.

Breathing you in. Soaking in the way your thigh shifted gently against his groin as you unconsciously moved in your sleep. Soaking in the subtle drag of your skin against his. The faint warmth of your breath soaking through his shirt.

Your lips were right over his heart.

His cock pulsed violently. Painfully.

He wanted to come. God, he wanted to come. Right there. Right underneath you.

The shame made it worse. Made it hotter.

He imagined it—your sleepy form still curled against him while he came untouched, soaking the inside of his slacks, panting silently against your scalp, his stomach tight and flexing as he rutted into nothing.

He could. He knew how to do it now. How to breathe through it. How to grind just barely enough…

His hips twitched once.

You stirred slightly. Innocent. Unaware.

He let out a suppressed whimper.

“Shh…” you mumbled, one arm reaching to stroke his chest like you were soothing him back to sleep.

Your fingers—so gentle—just brushing across his shirt, not even aware of what you were doing. Just instinctively sweet. Comforting him.

As if he deserved that.

As if he wasn’t hard as a rock beneath you, throbbing, leaking, craving the friction of your bare thigh against his desperate cock.

He clenched his teeth.

His hand slipped. Just an inch.

From your hip… to your thigh.

The soft inner part.

Warm. Smooth. He didn’t grope. Didn’t dare. Just held. Let his hand settle there. Let his fingertips feel the softness of your skin under the edge of his sweater.

You exhaled again. So sweet.

Didn’t move. Didn’t notice.

And Viktor?

He started rocking. Just slightly. Subtly. His hips tilting—millimeter by millimeter—grinding his clothed cock against your thigh, chasing friction.

He didn’t even mean to.

It was instinct. Animal. A slow, hungry grind. Deliberate. Rhythmic. Just enough to feel that slight, hot pressure—soft fabric sliding across his aching head. Dampening with each pass.

He was going to come.

You didn’t even know.

That was the filthiest part.

That you were letting him. Unknowingly, sweetly—letting him use your sleeping body like this. Letting him grind into your warmth and come in his pants like a desperate, broken man.

He could hear his own breathing now.

Shaky.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Focused. Ground again—slow, shallow. Felt the pressure cresting, low and tight, his abdomen pulling, his cock swelling—

And then it hit. He froze. The orgasm crashed through him in a hot, choking wave—no noise, no release, no explosion—just desperate tension as his cock throbbed and leaked, soaking his briefs in helpless pulses.

He didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare make a sound.

You sighed softly. Rubbed your cheek against him again. Your thigh pressed tighter between his.

Viktor? He sat there. Panting quietly. Soaking wet.

Stiff with shame. Still unbelievably hard. Still twitching.

Still so in love.

[0ccasionality]

Wanted to render V’s visor with the new technique I came up with, accidentally drew a whole dang scene

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Joong seeking comfort from one of his fav Phi before doing his civic duties as an official Somsom

Source as above

FKJD FM IN VIETNAM - 22/06/2025

#TheHeartKillersinVietnam

[doomgurlfics]

SOMEBODY

©doomgurlfics .ೃ࿐

Synopsis: After graduation, you treat yourself to a solo getaway in Hawaii. Just you, the ocean breeze, and zero drama. That is, until a flight seatmate from hell, Taehyung, somehow ends up being your next-door neighbor at the luxury resort. Thanks to a reservation mix-up, your private suite dreams crash and burn, leaving you and Taehyung in separate rooms… with a shared connecting door.

What starts as petty arguments and awkward run-ins quickly escalates into teasing, tension, and heat you can’t ignore. And when the line between enemies and something much more finally snaps? Let’s just say, paradise gets a whole lot hotter.

Pairing: Non Idol Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Language, Eventual Smut, Possible slow uploads

Word Count: 1,615

A/N: Hi beautiful people!🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ This fic is Inspired by Latto’s Somebody cuz the song is on repeat in my head! Hope you guys enjoy!! P.S. it’s been proof read, but loosely so don’t mind the mistake 🫣

Part One

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat with relief. The day had already started off on the wrong foot. Delayed Ubers, mile-long TSA lines, and a barista with a serious attitude problem.

But you made it. You’re on the plane, you’re on time, and thanks to a lucky upgrade, you only have to deal with one seat mate instead of being sandwiched between two.

The final call for passengers echoes through the cabin as you settle into the window seat, adjusting your blanket and neck pillow before setting up your iPad.

You pre-downloaded two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, which should be more than enough to get you through the flight. No distractions. No drama. Just you, McDreamy, and the clouds.

You’re just popping in your earbuds when something, someone, nudges your arm.

“Ah, sorry, hold this?” a voice says, right before a paper coffee cup is shoved into your hands. You blink up, caught off guard, as a tall guy with dark hair wrestles a duffel bag into the overhead compartment like he’s fighting for his life.

You can’t help but think that this man is fine—as hell.

Wearing a baseball cap, a plain white tee, and gray sweats, he somehow makes casual clothing look like high fashion. The kind of good-looking that feels unfair. Effortless. Dangerous.

And you know what they say about gray sweatpants.

You snap out of it just in time to meet his gaze, and a playful smirk. Heat creeps up your neck. You’ve been caught.

Without thinking, you thrust his drink into his lap as he sinks into his seat. A sharp remark on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to it.

“I was going to apologize for my hasty entrance,” he says, pulling off his cap and running a hand through the black strands that fall neatly around his face. “But you ogling me kind of kills the guilt.”

You scoff. “Please. No one was ogling you. And maybe next time, don’t shove your coffee into someone’s hands like they’re your personal assistant.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the overhead crackles to life with the flight attendants’ safety spiel. You take the opportunity to readjust your headphones and crank up the volume, not even pretending to be polite anymore.

As far as you’re concerned, you’re done. Fully committed to ignoring this cocky asshole for the rest of the flight.

The first three hours pass without another hiccup, and since you flew out of L.A., there’s only about two hours left to go. You stretch your legs and shift slightly, but a dull ache in your lower abdomen makes you wince. Perfect. You need to pee.

You glance to your left and sigh.

Your seatmate is completely passed out, head tilted back against the seat, lips parted slightly. His long legs are stretched out into the aisle, and directly in your path.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath, now you have to wake him up.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his shoulder gently. No response.

“Excuse me, I need to get by,” you try again, a little firmer this time.

Still nothing. He’s knocked out cold, mouth slightly open, lashes too long for someone so irritating.

You stare at him, unamused.

“Come on, this isn’t funny, I really need to get by,” you say louder now, shaking his shoulder roughly.

You sigh shaking your head, who the hell sleeps this deeply on a plain. You can’t be arsed to keep shaking him, so you decide to crawl over him.

If only he wasn’t so massive it would have been your first option. You get up, slowly pivoting in the cramped space. For this to be first class, you weren’t really feeling how little room you had.

Moving slowly, you outstretch your leg over the both of his, gently grabbing the seat in front of you as you attempt to pull your other leg over.

But it seems the universe has other plans.

The plane suddenly jolts with a burst of turbulence, and before you can react, you lose your balance and go crashing straight into his lap.

“Oof!” you grunt as you land, your elbow digging into his chest. A soft wheeze escapes him as he snaps awake, eyes wide in confusion and alarm.

Before you can scramble off, his arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you in place.

It’s protective. Reflexive. But it also completely blocks your escape.

You freeze.

Back to chest. Ass to crotch. You’re feeling way more of a stranger than anyone should on a plain.

“Damn, girl. First you were eyeing me up, now straddling me in my sleep? You don’t even know my name. Whatever happened to a first date?”

You blink, mortified before removing his arms from your waist and scrambling off of his lap. Without a word, you make a beeline for the restroom, refusing to look back as you shut and lock the door behind you.

You grip the tiny sink and stare at your reflection. “Girl… what the fuck is happening right now?” you whisper, laughing under your breath at the absurdity of it all.

How in the hell are you supposed to walk back to your seat after that?

You do your business and linger for as long as possible, but a nock at the door cuts your hideout short, and you have no choice but to exit the bathroom.

The walk back to your seat feels like the walk of shame. You completely avoid eye contact, mumbling “excuse me,” as you sit down in your seat.

You don’t look at him. You refuse to look at him.

But you can feel it. The smugness radiating off of him like heat from the sun.

Less than two hours left, you remind yourself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. You’re more than ready to land, grab your bags, and part ways with this cocky stranger for good.

The plane ride ends smoothly and you wasted no time getting the hell off. You luckily didn’t have to wait long for your luggage or a taxi, and your ride to the resort went by with no qualms.

Currently, you’re standing in the check-in line at your all-inclusive resort, waiting to grab your room key. The cool air conditioning is a welcome contrast to the humid Hawaiian breeze just outside the glass doors.

You glance around the open-air lobby, taking in the modern island décor, woven textures, tropical greenery, and a view that opens right up to the Pacific.

Despite your hectic morning, you finally feel as if you can relax, more than ready to kick off your solo trip.

After receiving your key, you ride the elevator up to your floor and head down the quiet hallway. When you finally reach your room, you slide the keycard in and step inside.

An open layout greets you, bright and inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in soft, golden light, and the king-size bed looks like something out of a dream, topped with a neat arrangement of sweets and a dolphin-shaped towel that makes you smile.

But it’s the bathroom that really seals the deal. Spacious and sleek, with a deep soaking tub that practically calls your name. You can already picture yourself sinking into it, letting the stress melt away.

Near the sitting area, there’s a door that looks like it leads somewhere, maybe a closet? You’re not sure, and honestly, you don’t have the energy to find out right now.

The only thing on your mind is a long, hot shower, and getting ready for your first night in Hawaii.

Dinner at the resort was delicious. Fresh seafood, tropical flavors, and the kind of indulgence that reminds you why this trip was worth every penny. You’re already looking forward to taking full advantage of all the included meals.

Back in your room, a glass of champagne in hand, courtesy of the lobby bar, you kick off your shoes and finally decide it’s time to unpack.

Halfway through, you start to regret your ambitious packing. You stuff the last few clothing items into the dresser with some effort, then take a step back and eye your suitcase, still taking up too much space.

You glance toward the door near the sitting area, the one you brushed off earlier. You’re hoping the closet is deep enough to fit your suitcase.

You walk over, take a sip of your champagne, and twist the handle open.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take in the sight in front of you.

It’s not a closet at all, but a full suite, identical to yours. For a moment, it looks vacant. Quiet.

You step across the threshold, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is anyone in here?” you call out, your voice a little unsure as you take a cautious step further into the suite.

For a beat, there’s only silence.

Then a door swings open, and you’re instantly hit with your worst nightmare.

“Yes! I’m coming! Just leave it on the table, please,” a familiar deep voice calls out—just as he strides into the room, fresh from the shower.

A towel hangs low on his hips, clinging for dear life, while he rubs another through his damp hair, completely unaware of your presence. Water glistens on his chest. And abs. So many abs.

You freeze.

He freezes.

And then his eyes meet yours.

—

A/N: Thank you guys for reading!! PT:2 Dropping soon!! Hopefully this fic has 3 parts max <3 Let me know what you guys think🫶🏽

[bgm05]

Wii smoking game where you pretend the wii remote is a cigar and move it to your mouth to puff on it and the screen shows your mii smoking. And the game is called Wii be Smoking

[reginaguerriera]

dont delete your zero note post. i will be there in 15 hours.

[kittydealer]

u/No_Boysenberry4755

[avadoore]

LACHRYMA

🦇

The V in Papa V Perpetua stands for vampire 🧛🏻

[matchapuccino]

Versions of Vergil (except Urizen and the cloaked one)

[jeonjungkoos]

welcome back namjoon and taehyung

[neverfeltthewinterquitesodead]

[fagarach]

aquatic tgirls taking esturgeon

[lolmanthecat]

Now light mode feels like a spirit poisoning your eyes.

I did it. After a lifetime of using light mode on all my devices, I switched to dark mode. My eyes just can’t take it anymore, and after a few days of using it, I decided dark mode was actually kind of cozy and nice. So it was time to update my light mode art with a new version!