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astudyincontrasts · 1 year

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Incubus Viktor ~ Part 2

Incubus Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW

Art by @arcanescribbles my beloved angel

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Moje sladká broskvička…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that your appetite for him ran any different.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hullo, lovie. Name’s Barrett.”

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

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

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

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

Did he just fucking wink at you?

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

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

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

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

“Yes I do mind! S-stop!”

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

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

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

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

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

“No thank you! …And no soliciting!”

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

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

“You’re angry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Viktor?”

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

“Viktor… please?”

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

“Forgive…?”

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

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

“Vik…hhmmn… Viktor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always hard for you, always eager and ready waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, however, you let him in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-wait…wait…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, ahn, ahhhn…Viktor…”

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

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

“No!”

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

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

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

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

“No!”

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

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

“Promise.”

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

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

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

All the answer he required.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don- don’t… ah!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not for long.

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

No need.

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

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

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

This, however, was not one of those times.

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

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

“Are we done playing, beloved…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your beautiful, exquisite horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the next instant he was gone.

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

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

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

Out in the hall the footsteps had stopped.

“What… what the fu-”

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

And then the screaming began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Malá broskvička, sshhh… shhh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Either of you.”

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

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uraveragelonelyhuman · 1 year

Text

Reuniting With Ekko, Vi And Viktor

EKKO

You had been a kid taken in by Vander

And he was friends with a man named Benzo, who had also taken a kid under his wing

So, you had always been close to Ekko and Powder most out of all the kids

Being closer to their age and all

You all were together everyday, never leaving each other's side

You and Ekko were hanging out one day when you saw a strange man come into the shop

You both could tell he wasn't from the Undercity

And he paid Ekko in gold, Ekko charged him double price with your convincing

And after you both followed him to his pretty apartment in Piltover

And you could tell he was rich, or had rich connections

So when you guys came back you told Vi, she was proud as hell of you both

And her, Powder, Claggor and Mylo left to rob the apartment

That was the start of it all

Vander was taken, Benzo was killed and in the middle of the night after staying with Ekko to help him, you felt the ground shake

You panicked, telling Ekko to stay there in the shop as you ran like hell

When you got there Vi was leaning against a wall as she sobbed

You kneeled down beside her to check on her, worried as she looked at you shocked

Then you both looked up, seeing the man recognized as Silco standing above your best friend on the ground

You both bolted, standing up to go get her before you were hit on the head

You fell to the ground, your conscious abandoning you

When you woke up, you were in a stone cell with Vi shaking you

You both were in prison, you thought they couldn't keep you there without trial o question

But you were wrong

Simply because you were from the Undercity, they kept you both there

For seven years

Vi kept you safe, you were all she had

But you both wanted out

And one day you got it

When a certain someone came around with a drawing of a monkey

You finally came back to the Undercity, looking for Powder and Ekko

And you found Powder, just not in the way you thought

And then you were ambushed by people in masks

One you swore you saw before, lingering in the shadows

And then you woke up in a random room

The one in the mask leaning against a wall

You opened your eyes, your head hurt like hell from being knocked out. You groaned as you sat up, rubbing your head as you looked around. You looked in the corner, a ray of light seeping in until you saw something.

Leaning against a wall, in the shadows a man with a white owl mask leaned against a wall. You glared, standing up as you clenched your fists.

"Who the hell are you?" You asked, your guard fully up as he slowly stepped out of the shadows.

"Why the hell am I here? Why won't you fucking answer?!" You yelled, impatient as he just kept staring at you.

You then intently watched as he reached up to his mask, your eyes widening as you saw he was taking it off.

His head faced to the ground, his mask hissing as he dropped it to his side. He then stepped into the light, looking up as your eyes found familiarity in his face.

"...Ekko?" You breathed out, shocked as you stepped forward once. You then stopped as he looked at you with a blank stare. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked.

"What? Where am I? What the hell is all this?" You asked, panicking as you looked around. You didn't like not knowing stuff, feeling paranoid of what was to come.

"What do you know about this?" He asked, opening a case to a blue stone. "Nothing! Powder had it, I don't know why but- shit, oh my god." You said, pacing back and forth as you tried to calm down.

"Where have you been? Where have you and Vi been? And why the hell were you with Jinx and-" Everything felt like it was spinning, Ekko's questions coming in fast and you couldn't keep up.

You felt tears pooling in your eyes, your hands meeting your head as you tried to get the feeling of nausea to pass.

You wanted to know where you were, what happened while you were gone and what the hell happened to Powder.

"Ekko! Jus-Just shut the hell up!" You cut him off, yelling as he paused and looked at you worried.

You looked tired, your entire body shaking as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Everything was so fast and you couldn't keep up.

"What the hell is going on?! What happened?! Me and Vi, w-we were thrown in Still- Prison and-" Ekko's eyes widened at your confession, Prison? What the hell did you mean Prison?

"Prison?! What the hell do you mean by Prison, Y/n?" He asked, you looking at him. "Yeah, we were thrown in Stillwater. No trial, nothing for seven fucking years!" You yelled, closing your eyes as you backed up into a pole.

You breathed heavily as you tried to ground yourself.

"What happened while we were gone?! Powder- or Jinx, or whoever the fuck! What happened to her?! What happened to my best friend…" you trailed off, beginning to sob as everything sunk in.

Through the years you never actually had time to sit and think so it was all coming in like waves.

Vander had died, Benzo died, Claggor and Mylo died. You and I were thrown in jail without question.

When you got out Powder was someone else, Silco flooded the lanes and took your guys' home. And Ekko was fucking yelling at you.

You hated being yelled at, it was something your birth parents did before leaving you to rot and it stuck with you.

Ekko looked at you sadly, his eyes filled with sympathy and guilt as he remembered you hated being yelled at. He slowly steps toward you, grabbing your hand and softly pulling you close to him.

"It's okay, everything's fine, I'm here…" he quietly stated, you holding onto him for dear life as your breathing calmed down.

"What happened while we were gone…?" You quietly asked, looking up at Ekko. He sighed, shaking his head. "A lot, Y/n. A lot." He stated.

You examined his face, lifting your palm to his right cheek as you sniffled. "Aw, Little man isn't little anymore." You laughed softly, Ekko rolling his eyes at you amusedly.

You slowly pulled back into the hig, your ear rested against his chest where his heart was.

You found Ekko, and for now you would live in the moment. At least for a bit, because at least he was okay.

You had been taken in by Benzo when young

And met Vi a couple days after

You two were stuck together by the hip

You were close in age and liked being together

You were the calm one while she was the harsh one

Still, match made in heaven

She liked being with you because you were calming

You liked being with her because she was her

And everything was great

Until the apartment heist

Everything went wrong after that

Benzo died

And so did Vander, Mylo and Claggor

What didn't help was Vi had went missing and Powder became Jinx

She never messed with you, visiting you when she could

But she didn't like being reminded of Powder

She clung to you still because you were all she had left, and you were like her other big sister growing up

You came to terms Vi was dead, you had to survive though

So Babbette offered you a job, at the Brothel

Wasn't your ideal job but you took it

Everything was a bit peaceful in your life for a while

Until the past came knocking

You cleaned up your room in the brothel, your last client had come in and left after about 30 minutes and you were done for the day.

You were tired as hell and just wanted to get to Jericho's, eat and come back and sleep until forever. You had changed into something a bit more comfortable, grabbing your keys and about to head out until you heard the door open.

It then clicked closed just as you reached for your keys. You sighed, talking over your shoulder. "Wrong room. I'm done for the day, sorry." You said, walking forward as your hand grasped your keychain.

"Aw, too bad. You sure you don't have time for me, sweetheart?" That voice…you heard it before. You froze, you felt like you couldn't move at all. You recognized it but you didn't want to accept it.

Over the years your mind played tricks on you, a glimpse in your peripheral had you thinking Vi was around the corner. A whisper in your ear made you flinch thinking it was her only to come back to earth a second later.

You shook your head, not looking behind you. "Enough with the games, brain. She's not here…" you mumbled to yourself, resuming what you had been doing.

"But it's not a game. It's me, Y/n." She said again, this time you felt like crying as you realized she didn't go away. She would've left by now if it was a game.

You slowly turned around, your eyes finding the woman now grown up standing in front of you. She stared back at you with a small smile, her eyes looked you up and down.

"...Vi?" You whispered, afraid to talk as if she would disappear. She nodded her head, stepping closer to you. You gave a small sniffle, as she got closer you lunged at her.

You knocked her back a fre steps before she stabled herself. She gave a small chuckle mixed with a sniffle. She hugged you back, missing your touch over the years.

"You're okay.. How in hell are you alive?" You asked, your head not leaving her chest. "Believe me, I don't even know." She mumbled, resting her chin on top of your head as she closed her eyes.

She felt a little peace in that moment, holding you. Maybe the seven years of hoping and praying paid off, because you were actually here.

Alive. And with her now.

And god, she was never letting you go, ever again.

VIKTOR

Your dad was Singed, and you met him when his boat flowed through the cavern

That's when you first saw him, you sat next to Rio as it knocked against your foot

He then stepped into your vision

He was hesitant until your dad beckoned him towards you guys as he held his toy boat in his hand

You then noticed his cane, tilting your head at it but shaking it off

Wasn't anything new, and was best not to ask

He was a loner, not being able to play with the other kids

You didn't like playing with them, thought they were idiots who were even ruder than their parents

You preferred staying with your dad and helping Rio

And eventually you three became loners together

You and Viktor grew up close together

You were stuck to the other like glue

You also both helped your dad with his gadgetry and projects

Everything was good, until Rio god worse

You begged your dad to let her go, but he always said the same thing

"The mutation must survive"

But Viktor didn't like it

And he left

You never saw him again for a long time

Viktor sat in his lab, Jayce gone for the day for whatever he did. He was messing with Hex tech, trying to improve it as he heard the lab door open.

"Sorry, Jayce is not here. And I am quite busy." He called over his shoulder, not looking back as he went back to his gadget.

He heard a sigh from behind him. 'Must be Sky.' He thought, not paying anymore mind until a voice broke the silence.

"Aw, not even enough time for little 'ol me?" He paused, it couldn't be. He hadn't seen you for years. And in Piltover? His lab nonetheless?

He turned around, shocked as he saw your smirking face standing at the middle counter of the lab.

"Y/n!" He exclaimed, smiling as he stood up and grabbed his cane. You laughed, walking towards him and meeting him halfway. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I haven't seen you in years." He smiled, you pulling away as you laughed. "Yeah, about time, huh?" He nodded his head. "Yes, how did you know I was here?" He asked.

"I got in contact with your lab partner, Jayce. He was excited to help." You explained, nudging his cheek as he shook his head. "Remind me to thank him, for once." He joked.

"Wow, Piltover really has a hold on you. You have humour now?" You teased, the man rolling his eyes at you amusedly as he pulled away.

"Come, I should show you my creation." He walked over to his desk, you following him

You always wondered what his life was in Piltover, now you could be a part of it.

#vi arcane x reader #arcane x you #ekko arcane x reader #arcane ekko x you #arcane ekko #arcane ekko x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane vi x reader #arcane violet #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #ekko x reader #vi x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #arcane reader #arcane reader insert

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thedustybunny · 8 months

Text

Chamomile Kisses - Chapter 1 (Full)

Viktor X Fem!Reader (900+ words)

Enemies to friends to lovers

Chapters 2–6 now available using the tag chamomilekisses

Hi anyone who sees this! This is the full first chapter of the story, I have another lined up ready to post. Please leave a like or comment if you are enjoying this, I’m new to tumblr so it’s motivating seeing people actually interacting with my work. Also I wanted to say that this will be a long series! Thank you!

(How I imagine the new lab)

(How I imagine the clinic section at the front of the lab -couldn’t find credits for either)

You've dedicated over 3 years to the Academy, focusing your expertise on the biological sciences housed in the east wing. Although your background is in Pharmacy, you've embraced herbology to broaden your knowledge. Not only have you delved into the study of plants and their medicinal applications, but you've also become the driving force behind the flourishing herbology clinic.

As time has passed, your natural remedies have gained remarkable popularity, causing your clinic's demand to outgrow its initial, confined space. Hermendinger, your unwavering supporter in establishing the herbology clinic, keenly observed this expansion. Together with the council, he recognized your significant contributions, evident in the substantial revenue you've generated for the academy, second only to the pharmacy in the west wing of the academy.

Recognising your potential and the need for more space, the decision was made to provide you with a considerably larger area to operate your clinic. This shift to the north wing signifies the Academy's investment in your expertise, granting you the canvas to magnify your studies and elevate your herbology clinic to new heights.

You crossed paths with him –Viktor. He strode gracefully through the hall, his imposing form exuding confidence, his lush, chocolate hair swept back, framing his sharp features. His presence was unmatched, the rhythmic click of his cane trailing behind him as he remained engrossed in the papers held tightly in his grip. Click, click, click. In that fleeting moment, he continued on, oblivious to your presence. With boxes in your hands, you carried on your journey, making your way towards the glass door that lay ahead -your gateway to a new clinic and research lab, ushering in a fresh chapter in your life.

Unveiling the array of equipment -flasks, beakers, pipettes, and burettes, you meticulously unpacked within the confines of your lab. Your tools sprawled haphazardly across the surfaces, testament to the meticulous work that lay ahead before your grand opening. Days turned into a whirlwind of activity, just shy of a week's time spent sorting, organizing, and setting up both your plant study equipment and the natural remedies you intended to offer. The final touch awaited completion – the new sign, a masterpiece crafted by the skilled hands of the handyman. Amidst this transition, you had the privilege of meeting a multitude of new faces you hadn't encountered before. The wing you now called home specialized in engineering and experimental sciences, a vibrant tapestry of innovation and intellectual exploration. Among these new acquaintances was Jayce, who took it upon themselves to extend a warm welcome. It was Jayce who gave you more insight on Viktor, an introverted workaholic, reserved but with a kind and genuine heart.

Empowered by Jayce's insight, you mustered the courage to break the ice. As dusk settled in, and the lab doors were left ajar in anticipation of Jayce's return to close up, you seized the chance to observe Viktor. His absorption in his work was evident, his focus absolute as he remained oblivious to the world around him, including your discreet presence.

Over time, your late nights at the lab unveiled an intriguing pattern – the faint click of Viktor's walking stick at precisely 11 pm, marking his departure for the day. Today marked a turning point, the day you would take that leap and talk to him, setting in motion an unconventional relationship that would undoubtedly shape the chapters of your journey ahead.

As the clock struck 11 pm, you found yourself outside Viktor's lab, heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tonight was the night you had decided to introduce yourself and hopefully initiate a connection with the enigmatic man who had piqued your curiosity.

Summoning your courage, you approached Viktor just as he was preparing to leave. "Hi there, I'm (y/n)," you began, a friendly smile on your face.

Viktor looked up, his initially guarded expression shifting into one of pleasant surprise. "Ah, nice to meet you, (y/n). I'm Viktor," he responded, extending a hand for a handshake.

"Likewise," you replied, relieved by his warm reception. "I've been working in the new herbology clinic and research lab down the hall."

Viktor's eyebrows raised slightly. "Oh, the herbology clinic? That's interesting. Quite a departure from the engineering and experimental sciences around here."

You nodded, encouraged by his interest. "Yes, I've been focusing on natural remedies and plant studies. It's been a great journey so far."

The mood shifted suddenly. "So, you're the one who's going to run the herbology clinic?" Viktor's tone had turned notably colder, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took you aback.

"Yes, that's right," you responded cautiously, unsure of the shift in his demeanor. "I'm excited about the opportunity."

Viktor's expression tightened, and a sarcastic smirk crept onto his lips. "Of course you are. Running a clinic based on nature's wonders. Quite the departure from my realm of rigorous experimentation, isn't it?"

You felt a pang of hurt and confusion at his sudden change in attitude. "I believe there's value in both approaches," you tried to explain, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Viktor's cold gaze lingered for a moment longer before he abruptly turned, his tone dripping with condescension. "Well, I hope your herbs work wonders, (y/n). Enjoy your venture." And with that, he walked away, his steps echoing down the hallway.

Left standing there, you were stunned by the abrupt shift in his demeanor. What had caused this sudden change? The questions whirled in your mind as you watched him disappear around the corner, feeling a mixture of hurt, confusion, and determination to understand what had just transpired.

#viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #chamomilekisses #enemies to friends to lovers #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader

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saeneryis · 2 years

Text

Random NSFW Viktor Headcanons

Machine Herald Edition.

Includes: Viktor (as the Machine Herald) x Reader (Gender Neutral) Warnings: dom, possessiveness, nsfw, begging, praise, toys, topping.

• Viktor is lowkey kind of possessive. He loves feeling like you’re his, and will often find himself begging you to let him cum in, or over you— depending on his mood, of course. Showering you in kisses, praise, and giving your body the respect it deserves is his #1 priority. No one is as beautiful as you, in his eyes. He can get a little jealous seeing you talk to other people, but at the end of the day, he knows you know who you belong to.

• He’s a full time scientist, not afraid of trying anything, and although he would rather use this energy to decipher the mysteries of the world, Viktor usually always gives in into your requests. You guys have a ton of sex toys— and he’s into that. Vibrating, moving, or even with sound effects (please, don’t ask) he’s open to anything you want to do to him.

• But usually, he’s gonna top the shit out of you. Especially after a long day of trying to figure a breakthrough out. He claims it helps him think better. With his new, enhanced body— physical limitations are no longer. A few of his favorite positions are doing it while he’s standing up and holding you mid-air, and letting you sit on top of him. • He's still Viktor under all those upgrades, ignoring the metallic implants that exist all over his body— his face still looks just like it always did. The only person who's seen him after he went full on machine herald was you, hence, you're the only person he's willing to ever sleep with.

Writer’s Note: Something small to lighten the mood. I love robot Viktor, kind of a shame there isn’t a lot about him here. Writing is hard, dude. I wish there was a way to make my other works faster, ahh.. so many drafts... can't complete them all! I have like 4 more ideas and I stopped one midway. Got uninspired :')

#viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor x you #arcane smut #arcane #viktor machine herald #viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor headcanons

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ilguna · 4 months

Note

Oh my gosh, (if it's available for the event) please please please Viktor from Arcane with 100 from the expired medicine list

☼ blood run red (Viktor) ☼

warnings; swearing, blood mention, ehh gore, wound, mention of self-harm but not in the way you're thinking.

wc; 2k

prompt; 100. "I should have left you bleeding to your death."

“Hey, Sky,” Your eyebrows twitch. “I’m surprised you’re here so late.” You glance over your shoulder to see the dark hallway you’ve just come down. “Or this far into the building.” When you look back at her, you tilt your head curiously. “Isn’t your study down the hall?”

Sky doesn’t speak right away, lips slightly parted as her feet shuffle to a stop. She has one of her books held loosely against her chest with one hand. “It is, but I was paying a visit to Viktor.”

“Of course.” You wave your hand. “That should’ve been obvious. Is Jayce with him?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t go in there, though. Viktor doesn’t want guests.” She readjusts the glasses on her face.

“That’s not anything unusual.” You tell her. “I’m sure he’ll make an exception for me. I’ll get him out of that room one way or another.”

“He says he’s going to sleep there again.” Her tone is almost defensive.

Your eyes narrow, speaking slowly, “He says that pretty often, but he always ends up with me, anyway.” You take a step to pass her. “I can pass along a message, if there is one.” You raise your eyebrows.

Sky’s face falls, realizing what you’re implying. Her eyes find the floor while she shakes her head. “No, no message.”

“Well, I hope you have a good night, then.” You smile, continuing down the hallway.

It isn’t out of the norm for Viktor to push people away, especially when it’s this late at night. He was likely trying to let her down easy, so that he wouldn’t be caught up with her when you got there. People have a hard time catching the hint when he’s trying to be nice about it, taking his words as a suggestion rather than law.

Interesting how she felt the need to ward you off. Maybe he’s given her the speech on how important it is for him to get the last few precious minutes in before giving his projects a rest for the night. You can’t recall the exact amount of lectures you’ve received for showing up a few minutes earlier than expected and ruining his plans.

No matter how many times you tell him that you’ll patiently wait while he finishes, he tells you that it’d be rude to make you sit there and watch him. Even if you find it interesting or entertaining, he insists for the two of you to walk home. You have a running joke with Jayce that he gets performance anxiety. Viktor doesn’t think it’s nearly as funny.

Honestly, you’d be more worried if Viktor suddenly wanted people around him while in the study. Besides Jayce, they’re partners, Viktor’s supposed to want to work with him.

It takes you another minute to make it to the door, which is closed. You raise your knuckles to the wood. Knocking a few times before you reach for the doorknob. You don’t care for his permission to enter, at least you’re announcing your arrival. You wouldn’t want to startle him while he’s working with the Hexcore.

You push the door open with your hip with how heavy the wood is. “Viktor, I’ve come to keep you company, against your wishes. Or we can go home, it’s up to you.” You muse.

The door opens with a long creak, the hinges are so worn down from the weight that it slides to a stop. The space is just wide enough for you to slip inside, not bothering to open it any further. You stroll in, eyes sweeping across the dimly lit room. You’ve told him that he needs to be careful with reading in the dark, it’ll ruin his eyesight.

You sound exactly like your parents, don’t you?

Viktor doesn’t respond to your joke, you turn your head, expecting to see him sitting on the stool at the desk, but here’s not there. The stool has rolled several feet away, out of his reach. There are a few used papers scattered on the floor, surrounding your boyfriend, who has collapsed in the middle of it.

“Viktor!” You cry, rushing forward.

You nearly trip over his cane in your haste to reach him. You hold his face with both hands, running your thumbs beneath his eyes. His eyebrows twitch, responding to your touch. And while his chest is rising and falling, there’s blood coating his lips, as if he coughed it up.

“Viktor, honey?” You can hear his ragged breathing, liquid stuck in this throat. You twist on your knees to face the door. “Sky!” You shout. “I need help!”

There’s a brief panic that fills your body when silence ensues. Then, the sound of heavy footsteps echo through the corridor as the person draws closer. It can’t be Sky, she’s got to be long gone by now.

A hand pushes the door open further, it belongs to Jayce. He’s breathing heavily, head whipping in your direction to see what the emergency is. You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to see him in your life.

“I came in and he was like this.” You tell him.

In a few long strides, Jayce comes over to scoop Viktor into his arms, unaffected by his weight. You have enough of a mind to grab the cane before you follow after him.

–

Viktor has been absent and obsessive—two traits that wouldn’t normally stand out, if it weren’t for the fact that you haven’t seen him for nearly a week. You don’t know how he’s been successfully missing you each time you come to the study, but it’s beginning to wear on your patience.

You understand his need for progress, and that his work is a priority. What you don’t get is him not communicating this to you. He’s had no issue doing it in the past, why the present is such a difference is an absolute mystery.

Not only that, but you’ve taken up a project of your own with Sky in the meantime, and she’s somehow disappeared from the city completely. If she didn’t have your combined notes, you’d wait for her to reappear. The fact that she’s taken it with her, despite the many times you’ve requested having them for yourself, is an irritation.

“Viktor, you better be in here.” You mumble to yourself, pushing open the large wooden doors. They’re already unlocked, telling you that he must be in here. “Viktor, I’ve been looking for Sky everywhere, and I can’t seem to find her or our notes.” You begin to ramble, “Do you…”

As you step into the room, you can feel the whole atmosphere shift into a darker energy. You can feel your stomach fly into your mouth, uneasiness halting your movements. You can’t get a muscle to move until your eyes adjust to the extreme darkness. The only source of light is coming from the glowing Hexcore on the table, that seems to have morphed into something different. The runes are gone.

A wave of deja vu makes you feel sick. You take in the mess on the floor, the discarded cane, the sheets of white paper, the pair of familiar glasses. And Viketor, sprawled on his stomach.

You stare down at him for half of a second, too shocked to move, confused at what you’re seeing. Viktor has stripped himself to his underwear and brace, revealing his damaged skin to the air. The wounds that cover his chest and upper arms… the dark purple tint of his right hand and leg.

When he looks up at you, you jerk forward, as if realizing that you should be caring for him. You fall to your knees to help him into an upright position. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You can see the wounds better up close, and they look like puncture marks. You can’t help running your fingers over one of them, listening to Viktor hiss before he seizes your hand.

“Please, don’t.”

“You’re bleeding.” You remark, shaking your head. “And your clothes are missing.”

“I was conducting an experiment.” He says, trying to shut you out.

You won’t let him. “That resulted in this?” You ask, looking him over again, eyes locked on the discoloration.

That looks like…

“(Y/n).” Viktor warns.

Your face falls. “What have you done?”

Your tone is a dead giveaway of your realization. Viktor pushes your hand away. “Nothing that I hadn’t meant to do.”

The curling of your lip is involuntary. “I’m not stupid, Viktor. I know this is from shimmer. Where did you get it?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“I’m tired of the secrets.” You tell him. “You were using shimmer for the experiment, why?”

You get to your feet, leaving him on the cold tile, no longer worried about him. You go to step around him, curious about the Hexcore, which has clearly evolved. Viktor reaches out with one arm, hand wrapping around your skin.

“Don’t get close. It’s not stable.” His voice is pleading.

“It didn’t look like this earlier today when I was trying to find you.” Your eyes shift to him. “Is this your blood on the desk?”

He doesn’t speak, sleep-deprived eyes boring into yours.

“Viktor, I’m reaching the breaking point. What happened here, and where is Sky?”

“Sky wasn’t here.” He lies.

You point at the glasses on the floor, lenses shattered. “Those belong to her.”

There’s a few beats of tense silence, and then his shoulders hunch, arm falling from your leg. “It was an accident. I think… I think Sky is gone.”

“What do you mean by gone?”

“Dead.”

“Dead?” You almost choke on your spit.

“Yes.”

Your breathing picks up in pace as you roll this information around in your head, unsure on how to approach this. Should you be worried about him killing people? He’s never shown the urge for it before. If he’s trying to cover it up, it can’t be good. Yet, he did say it was an accident… isn’t that what they all say?

“I need you to tell me what happened here.” You tell him.

Viktor’s face twists, lips turning down. “The Hexcore responds to natural elements. I figured it out when I got my diagnosis. You know this.”

You nod slightly.

“I visited an old friend from the Undercity.”

“That’s where you got the shimmer. That’s why you were on that bridge.” Your eyes drift away.

“How do you know that?”

“I talked to Jayce, because you wouldn’t talk to me.” You look back at him. “Keep going.”

“I was trying to inject my body with shimmer to alter the nature element for the Hexcore. I got too close, it sucked me in, and Sky saw. She tried to help.”

You shake your head, not following.

“She… disintegrated.”

You still, staring at him intently. “You’ve been harming yourself for this? And now Sky is gone?”

“It was never my goal—”

“Viktor, you’re already sick. You should not be doing this.”

“I have no choice. Jayce and I made a commitment, he needs my help.”

“Your safety doesn’t come first?” You challenge, watching as his face twists. “You’re killing yourself, Viktor. This is hurting you—changing you. You need to stop.”

“I will decide when to stop.” He snaps at you.

You press your lips together, beginning to back away from him. “I don’t want anything to do with this.”

“(Y/n).” Viktor reaches for you, hand landing on the tip of your shoe before it’s pulled from his fingers. “Wait.”

“I should have left you bleeding to your death.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Text

Springtime On The Moor [Chapter 3]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort Proofread: No lol Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes @feeiry Chapter Summary: You and Viktor finally have an actual conversation with each other, revealing family secrets and deciding what to do about your future together.

You watch as the maid exits the room quickly, straightening her apron as she goes. Part of you feels bad for demanding she control her temper in the way you did - you could have spoken less harshly, you think, and tried to reason with her.

Instead of insinuating that she owed you respect because you’re her employer.

Your father had always taught you to be kind to the working class, growing up. Explained to you that no one person was inherently worth more than another, and that everyone was just trying to make their way through life and do the best they could.

Maybe she was just having a bad day, you think, slouching back into your chair, worry beginning to creep up in the back of your mind.

What would Viktor think of you, after such a show?

Would he think you a temperamental woman? Too fiery and loud to make a good wife? Would he think you were overbearing, or classist? Or would he-

“Why did you redirect her anger like that?” Viktor asks. His voice is thankfully quiet, and you can’t detect any kind of malice or ill intent. He just sounds curious.

You peek up at him from behind your lashes, and push yourself to sit up straighter.

“I’m your wife,” you explain softly. “Matters of the home fall onto my shoulders. That includes…asking the staff to be kinder.”

You watch as his features pinch together ever so slightly, drawing into the faintest frown you’ve ever seen. The corners of his lips quirked downwards, pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t aware our duties varied based on gender,” he admits. “I thought marriage was meant to be a partnership?”

You’re well and truly shocked by his assumption.

Nothing in his posture says he’s being facetious or dishonest, so…what kind of rock has your husband been living under, to not understand the most basic of social systems? Even those who didn’t participate in the kinds of interpersonal games that you did, were still aware of how unions worked.

Understood what kinds of roles everyone was meant to play.

There were, of course, some special exceptions. Your father, for example: a widower of many years, now. He hadn’t grown up knowing all the work it took to run a home. Your mother had shared everything with him, all her decisions and the goings on of the day - he had been forced to play the role of both parents to you and your siblings.

But that was a very special circumstance.

Your husband, on the other hand, just seemed…oblivious.

“Viktor,” you begin, somewhat hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed without offending him in some manner. “Did your parents never teach you about any of this? About what to expect from a marriage?”

You try your best to stay as outwardly kind as you can, knowing that one small slip in tone or posture could push him away from you, and cause him to clam up. He already seemed so reserved and unwilling to socialize, and you don’t want to undo whatever progress you may have made.

But despite your best efforts, you still watch as discomfort makes its way into his expression. The slight tense of his shoulders, and the way in which he so casually avoids eye contact.

“I just want to know where I should start explaining, that’s all,” you tell him, honestly. “You’re not going to face any judgment from me, not for this, and least of all for not knowing something in general.”

You’re still, as his gaze travels over you. Looking for any sign of deceit, anything that might hint to him that you’re trying to set him up for…for something unpleasant.

A joke, you wonder, or maybe just to ridicule him in general?

You would never.

But he doesn’t know that.

Finally, he relaxes in the slightest, mirroring your form to slouch back in his seat.

“You’re aware that I’m adopted, yes?” he asks, and when you give a brief nod of confirmation, he continues. “I am the youngest of six, and I don’t share blood with any of my siblings. When my parents were no longer able to have children of their own, they plucked me out of an orphanage in an attempt to raise one last baby.”

You can feel the surprise stretch across your face, loud and prominent. Had he really been taken in so young? With how your father had spoken of him, and described him as a boy, you’d assumed that he’d been brought home around nine or ten.

But as an infant?

Where did he learn his mannerisms, then?

“We -meaning my siblings and myself- had all assumed that I wouldn’t end up with any kind of claim to the family fortune,” he explains, chewing on the edge of his thumb nail. “Even from a young age, they would not pass up a chance to remind me of my place - I was the outsider, and I had no business trying to continue our parents’ legacy.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table.

“But you share a surname, don’t you?” you wonder.

Viktor nods to your question.

“We do,” he confirms. “But that hardly matters. Not when the purity of the bloodline is in question.”

Your heart sinks slightly, knowing he must have felt incredibly lonely growing up. Having a family, and being loved by his parents, but otherwise ostracized by the people his own age. Never being allowed to expect the same treatment as his siblings, as if his background made him somehow less.

You watch as he reaches for a bottle of wine that’s been set out on the table, reading the label for a brief moment before uncorking it with a soft pop.

He fills his glass a little more than you would consider polite, but then, you couldn’t really fault him for it, could you? Especially not when he gestures towards your own goblet at the last minute, as if he’s just remembered that you might like some, too.

He’s trying.

You slide the glass towards him, and wave him off when you’ve got a sufficient amount of red nectar - a little more than you’d usually indulge in, but with dinner on the way and a heavy conversation in your midst, you feel as though you’re entitled to it.

“At least,” he finally resumes, swirling the wine around in his cup, “that was what I had thought.”

He takes a sip, and reclines back in his chair again.

“We were of the mind that my brothers would take over the business when my parents either passed or retired, and my sisters would run the estate once they were married,” he goes on. “We assumed that I would be permitted to stay in the manor as long as I pleased, as part of the inheritance conditions. All of us were happy with that outcome. The business has never been in any of my interests.”

He takes another mouthful of drink, his expression pulling into one of frustration.

“Imagine my surprise, upon finding out that my parents willed everything to me.”

He doesn’t sound angry about the situation he’d been given - not really. Fed up, perhaps, and like he had never expected his life could go the way it has.

It makes you sad, the more you think about it. Imagining your husband as a little boy, tormented by the people who he was meant to call family, never allowed to believe that he could be more than their words, or achieve anything. Not even allowed to dream.

And now, forced to marry someone he didn’t know - someone he probably had no desire to know.

“I’m…sure your brothers and sisters were not so pleased?” you suggest, earning dry laugh from your husband.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” he scoffs. “They were outraged. Even when I told them that I had no idea I was in the will - told them that I would be happy to hand over everything they’d been previously promised! All I wanted was a place I could continue working.”

You finally take a sip of the wine in your hand, listening intently to the sweet aftertaste of cherry.

“But there was no reasoning with them,” he laments, his tone growing somber. “They were scorned, and they blamed me. I knew that if I gave them anything, they…would have taken everything. I would have lost years of work - my home, any semblance of a future. Even now, they still…”

Your eyes remain trained on him, following as he stoops forward to lean his elbows on the table, pressing the tips of his fingers into his temples to rub slow circles.

A very well-practiced motion, you realize.

“My siblings have done everything in their power to drive my life into ruin. I have never been one to care for my social reputation, but…the rumours. Their threats, scaring away most of the staff employed by the estate.”

He finally looks over to you, his eyes wide with a forlorn sense of sadness.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the garden. There’s no one in town who is willing to risk their social life to care for it, so it’s fallen to ruin. I would do it myself, but…” He gestures down towards his leg - out of your line of sight, but you know that he’s pointing towards the shiny metal brace that you’ve never seen him out of.

Of course he’d love the place he’d grown up. Of course he’d want to take care of it. You’re furious with yourself for ever thinking he might have just been a careless man, unconcerned with what other people thought of him.

In truth, he cares quite a bit.

And how frustrating it must be, you think, to see something so beloved falling to ruin around you, unable to do anything to stop it. To have people actively working against you, counting and praying on your downfall.

You quietly drum your fingers on the table.

You can feel Viktor’s eyes on you, questioning and curious - and you can tell that he knows you’re thinking.

“Has your business been impacted by any of this?” you ask.

Suddenly enough that he hesitates a moment before replying.

“The family business has taken a loss-”

“No, no,” you interrupt with a wave, taking another sip of wine. “I mean your business. The deal you have with Mr. Talis. HexTech, if I’m correct?”

His jaw slackens when you reveal that you know about that. And in truth, it had required quite a bit of digging around and asking questions: you’d been far too curious about the mysterious man who’d appeared out of the darkness to ask for your hand.

He was difficult to find a trace of, you know, always careful to cover up his tracks and make sure no one saw his face or knew his name.

You would have thought him shady, were the HexTech company not so well-known.

“…not thus far, I don’t think,” Viktor finally replies.” My participation in our projects is not typically brought up when speaking to sponsors - Jayce does all the networking, and we do the rest together.”

You drum your fingers on the table some more.

“Your siblings will try, then,” you tell him, bluntly.

Worry falls over him when he figures out what you’re implying: that the people he once called family were ruthless in their endeavors, and would stop at nothing to see him brought to his knees. That they would be willing to ruin anyone’s lives to do it.

Even when they discovered his association and partnership with Mr.Talis, they would simply seek to tear him down, too.

“They have been successful in bringing you to ruin thus far,” you tell him, “No one wants to work for you, save the select few you have employed - but nowhere near enough people to keep up with the work that a house demands. Your estate is in shambles, and your name is so tarnished that the people I considered close friends didn’t show up to our wedding.”

He peers over at you, guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, and you cut him off with a wave.

“Don’t be,” you sigh, taking another sip of your drink. “I will admit that I was upset about it yesterday, but…knowing that very little of your reputation has been your choice has calmed me down a bit.”

You smile at him, sweet yet mischievous.

“I’ve a proposition for you, husband. Something that will benefit both of us.”

Viktor raises a brow, intrigued, and gestures for you to continue.

Your smirk widens.

“I suggest revenge.”

His face falls a fraction, but before he can say anything, you speak over him.

“I’m not suggesting bodily harm. I’m not suggesting any kind of like-minded retaliation, either,” you promise, easing some of his tension. “ I’m well versed in social politics. Quite frankly, I find it entertaining and invigorating - and I enjoy getting to dress up on special occasions. It wouldn’t take a lot of prodding among my typical circle to get your name bouncing around.”

You take the last mouthful of your wine, and set the goblet down on the table.

“ A couple of kind words here and there. Everyone knows that you…lack social prowess, so any word of mine would be considered an absolute truth. I’m your wife, after all - and I’m meant to know you in ways that are far more intimate than your siblings ever would.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets in his seat at your choice of words, nor the way pink begins to blossom across the tops of his cheeks. His awkwardness is honestly quite charming, in your opinion, if not slightly frustrating.

Frustrating, because how easily does he manage to catch your interest.

“All I’d have to do would be to let slip a few things that directly contradict the rumours spreading around, to the right people,” you finish, proudly knitting your fingers together to set them in your lap.

Unsurprisingly, though, Viktor seems unconvinced.

“Do you really think that all the damage done is so easy to fix?” he wonders, almost incredulous. “Talk to a couple of your friends and let them gossip?”

“No,” you admit. “I don’t. But we don’t need to convince anyone, Viktor. We just need to make them doubt. Doubt your siblings, doubt what they’ve heard. Once people start questioning, they’ll be willing to look a little closer, and be a little closer.”

Finally, finally, he seems to understand what you’re saying.

“What would make someone angrier than thriving, despite their attempts to assure otherwise?” you ask, of no one in particular.

Your husband smiles then, and not just a small quirk of the lip. A genuine smile, laden fully with the same sort of mischief that you have. A giddy, almost playful edge to it, and…something you can’t quite decipher. A sense of longing, perhaps - hope?

“You’ve thought this out very thoroughly,” he says, “and yet you’ve only been here a day.”

“Well, it’s not just your life anymore, now is it?” you tell him, matter-of-factly. “It’s our life. Our name, our home, our reputation. And neither of us deserve to be treated so poorly.”

There’s more you want to say to him - more conversation to be had about how to improve your lives and where to start, how to fix the garden. Your entire plan, really, as unfinished as it is.

Were it not for the servants’ door flinging open, startling the two of you away from each other.

The kitchen staff begin pouring in with dishes of food, setting them out around the table so you might choose what you’d like to eat - much of it which you’d never seen before, spices you’d never smelled, colours you’d never eaten.

Viktor promises you later that you’ll speak on the matter tomorrow, after you’ve both had some time to rest - claiming he still had some work he’d yet to finish that evening, and that he didn’t want to be late on its completion.

You’ve half a mind to ask him to stay with you: to ask him to spend the night with you, as a husband was meant to - even if it just meant sleeping together in the same bed. But with his beliefs and general awkwardness…you know even suggesting something like that would make him retreat back into his shell.

You’ll just have to work on refining your plans for the manor, and hope they would be enough to impress him.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #Springtime On The Moor

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beesincognito · 1 year

Text

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

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am-i-interrupting · 11 months

Note

please could you do something for arcane where reader comes home in a sling and is like "haha funny story" and it turns out they fractured their elbow? i fell off my bike at 8am yesterday morning and biked for idk how may miles and did farm work before going to the hospital roughly 7 hours later. turns out it wasn't a bad bruise like i thought lol. now im in a sling for 6 weeks and it was kinda sus that i was losing mobility in my arm throughout the day before i went to the hospital

Caitlyn

She will go into protective mode immediately.

She is by your side as much as you’ll allow her, getting you everything you need and more.

She will buy you sweets and get you your favorite drink every day during your recovery.

Will be giving you a lot of face kisses when she gives you something or does something you can’t do at the moment.

If anyone gives you the pity look and starts treating you differently she is glaring at them with a stare so hard and cold they stop immediately. Don’t say anything just half, turn around, and walk away.

Ekko

He will immediately check you over for any other bruising or cuts as soon as the news is broken.

He’s extra doting during your recovery, many kisses and cuddles, will fret over whether or not you’re actually comfortable laying with him.

He’s not the tallest individual so if he can’t get something for you, he is asking the other Firelights to get it for you.

On that topic, when he’s not around he has asked several of the Firelights to not smother you but stay near in case you need something.

Just super sweet and helpful during your recovery all around.

Jinx

She is immediately asking who hurt you and when you reveal that it was your own clumsiness, she takes a breath and jokes about it.

She will try to act like it’s no big deal but always has you in the peripheral of her vision.

She’s not as good as she thinks she is at hiding her hovering habits during this time.

She is making and stealing you so many pretty things during this time just to see you smile.

She will also do your hair for you if it’s long enough to style and she is joining you in the bath to wash and brush it.

Silco

When you explain what happened, he will act like he’s scolding you but in reality it’s simply a rouse to disguise his concern. It’s not easy at the best of times, much less when you’re injured.

He will be giving you the best medicine available for any pain.

He’s also making you teas that are supposed to help soothe pain as well. Where he got such high quality tea? He won’t tell you but it’s there.

It’s also like he can read your mind because if you even think of getting something it’s already on the table in front of you.

You’re also not going to work for the entirety of your recovery. It doesn’t matter if you work for him or someone else. If you work for someone else and they refuse to be accommodating, fine you’ve got a new job with Silco waiting for you when you’re better.

Viktor

He is absolutely worried for you but understands how annoying it can be to have people try to do things for you because you’re in pain.

He will only get things for you if you ask and he is happy to do so.

He will massage your shoulder if it starts to hurt from the sling.

Is giving you alternative pain meds to try if the ones you have aren’t working.

He will also hold ice to your elbow so you don’t have to since it can be a pain.

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fairy-writes · 10 months

Note

For the Event (congrats btw)! Viktor (Arcane) and Action Prompt #12 maybe (if it's still available)? It just sounds very sweet, for him to have someone looking after him in ways he might not have had before <3

THIMBLES AND BANDAGES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Reader

Prompt: Mending their lover’s clothes for them (Action Prompt #12)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes:

__________________________________________________________________________

Viktor opens the door to your lab and finds you hunched over at your desk. He frowns, shutting the door behind him. It shuts with a loud boom, but you don’t move, don’t turn, nothing. You are so focused that you don’t move until he sets a hand on your shoulder.

“Love? What are you working on?” He asks gently, and you jump, dropping a needle and thread onto your desk.

Wait…

Needle and thread?

You whirl around, effectively keeping his attention on you instead of what you were working on.

“Heeeeey Viktor! I didn’t think you’d be stopping by for another hour!” You say nervously, and his frown deepens.

What were you hiding?

He tries to peek around your shoulder, but you move just so so that he can’t.

“What are you hiding?” He asks hesitantly, and your embarrassment turns to panic.

“I’m not hiding anything! I’m just… well…” You trail off, and your shoulder slump. You turn to the side and allow him to see what you have been working on.

It’s his vest.

His favorite vest.

The one he had torn last week when working on a recent Hextech project. He had been underneath the machine, scooting out, when he caught his side and ripped it. It hadn’t helped that he immediately tried to salvage it with grease-stained fingers. The grease had ruined the fabric. He was sure of it.

Until… somehow… you got ahold of it.

It was clean, had no spots or stains, and was completely stitched up.

“You—”

“You said that was your favorite. And… well… I know I’m not that good at sewing, but I figured I’d give it a shot.” You say quickly, and he stares at you in wonder.

“But why?” He asks slowly, and you shrug with a warm smile,

“Because I like seeing you happy.”

Your smile widens as you watch as he slides the vest on in amazement, looking absolutely delighted at having one of his favorite articles of clothing back and hiding your hands behind your back.

Effectively hiding the thimbles on your fingertips and the little bandages littering your skin.

#viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x you #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane: leage of legends #fairy writes #fairy 1000 followers

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allora1233 · 11 months

Text

𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕊𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗

genre: fluff - drabble

pairing: Viktor x Reader

wc: >1k

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

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

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

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

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

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thehistoriangirl · 3 months

Text

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Masterlist]

Viktor x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature/Explicit

Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story.

Now: One -> SFW/ 2.9K

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daphnedirose · 2 years

Text

Precious Possession

Yandere!Viktor x f!Reader | NSFW +18 | wc: 2.4k | Viktor wasn't one to share what he feared losing, especially when it came to you, so he decided to take matters into his own hands when an unfortunate guy lays his eyes on you.

Warnings: Out-of-character-and-possessive!Viktor, hickeys, oral, fingering, scratching.

Requested by a lovely anon <3

A/N: I didn’t write the usual Yandere archetype since I felt it wouldn’t suit Viktor, so I made it a bit more implicit and calculated. Enjoy <3

Evolving is a fundamental part that ties everything around us: a tiny leaf on fire could easily transform into a forest fire if it's not taken care of before it burns its surroundings.

You didn't notice when Viktor's fire ignited in the first place: he managed to hide it so well you couldn't see the forest fire it turned into, not even when it consumed something more than trees.

No one could, and he would make sure no one would.

When Viktor first saw you, he thought you gorgeous, ethereal to say the least, but wasn't hooked to you until your mouth opened to participate in Heimerdingers's classes: you were intelligent, and every word you pronounced was so eloquent and assertive everyone in the room, including him, was gladly impressed by what you had to say.

His first thought was that maybe, just maybe, you two could share a similar view on what you wanted to achieve with your future projects.

He lightly shook his head and avoided that thought, considering he perhaps wouldn't even have the opportunity to talk to you, so better not to idealize the future. After all, he already felt the piercing disgust glances the other students gave him because of his disability and for coming from the Undercity.

The possibility of you making a similar remark if he approached was something he'd rather avoid.

Luckily for him, you made the first move and approached him between classes. He was sitting under a tree in the gardens, reading a book and taking mental notes on what could be important for future lectures.

"What are you reading?" You questioned him friendly, a subtle welcoming smile peeking through your lips.

You were also intrigued by him: his undeniable elegant looks mixed with conviction and persistence were rare to find. It was not a secret he was Zaunite, but that only meant he got to work harder than anyone from Piltover to get into The Academy, even more, to earn a scholarship, something you found worth admiring.

He didn't expect you to talk to him first, but he appreciated the gesture since he did want to make friends, something he wasn't able to in his time in the Undercity.

He answered your question and invited you to sit down next to him. You talked for hours, from academic stuff to personal ambitions. A warmth began to blossom inside Viktor's chest as he saw how attentively you were listening to what he had to say.

No judgment, no complaints or mistreatments like he used to receive.

You didn't know it then, and wouldn't have the chance to, but that spark of attention you gave him slowly became addictive for him, finally achieving something he craved for so long. Your warmth, your laugh, your eyes laid on his; what could seem insignificant for others turned into something necessary for him, almost mandatory, making his golden eyes glow brighter when he was around you.

But such a divine gem didn't remain unnoticed by others' eyes. Glances were thrown at you when you walked in the hallways or even discreetly in class, some wholesome and tender, others a bit hungry for a taste.

You weren't aware of them, just wondered the reason most people were so kind and attentive towards you. Viktor was conscious, more than he should have been for his own good. He noticed every stare, every comment made about you.

He hated it, all of it, but the tension in the smile he gave you was always well hidden.

He made subtle comments about how you always seemed to catch the crowd's eye, but you always replied none of those stares was meaningful to you.

"What about mine?" he asked you once, golden eyes shining in intrigue.

He saw you let out a sighed smile before your touch reached his cheeks and his grip let go of his cane. You kissed him, all strength leaving his body as his lips melted on yours.

The fire grounded down, but its flames became harder for Viktor to endure.

The tragedy's catalyzer came in the shape of a guy you became friends with, and the crush he developed on you hit Viktor harder than any other comment or stare.

For the first time, he felt threatened to lose you.

You didn't follow his flirting attempts: you weren't interested in him and brushed him off constantly. Yet Viktor's desire to get rid of him grew mercilessly big as time passed: he'd never despised someone so viscerally before. How dare he get close to what's rightfully his? His teeth clenched and knuckles often turned white from the serried grip on his cane whenever he saw him talking to you.

Regardless, he never let you get any glimpse of them. He wanted him gone but had to play his cards with care. Eyes were already on him for being from the Undercity; one wrong move and not only would he lose you, but his chance to achieve his dream.

It was okay, he could wait. And so he did as the fire scattered the grass underneath his feet, getting closer and closer to the trees where his target unknowingly hid.

Luckily, the opportunity struck at the right time. He met Jayce, and after the mess they both caused, you three started working on Hextech together: with Mel Medarda as their main patron, alongside the Kiramman family and some funding from other members of the Council; Viktor reached a considerable amount of power in comparison to his position as Heimerdinger's assistant, and the good thing about it is that his face was not the one in the spotlight, so both respect and hidden power were now things he had.

It all began after you finished creating the Hexgates, leaving the projects of the Atla's Gauntlets and the Hexclaw available to make.

Viktor and you focused on the Hexclaw: your equations were precise, and Viktor was quite handy at putting the mechanism together.

However, you were requested to begin an investigation on your own, which took away any possible time you could spend working with Viktor.

Although it made him mad, he considered it an opportunity.

He played his first card.

"Are you sure you want to ask him for help?" you questioned, hugging a pile of documents you were moving to your new lab.

Viktor's cane clanked on the floor with every step he took, precise, a bit impatient. "I thought you said he was quite smart," he teased.

"And I wasn't lying, but he's applying for an internship in Demacia." Your steps stop, facing him worried. "Do you think he can handle the Hexclaw when his mind is elsewhere?"

His hand flew to your chin, pulling you close enough to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Maybe I could teach him how to work under pressure."

His voice came out calm, a bit sweeter than you were used to hearing from him. His fingers curled into your hair as your head hid in the crook of his neck, relaxing to his fiery woody scent.

That devilish shadow his eyes transformed into went by unnoticed.

When he asked your unsuccessful suitor to work alongside him, the boy couldn't be happier, over the moon enough to turn a blind eye to the uneasy feeling growing in his gut whenever Viktor glanced at him. He told himself it was nothing but nervousness and the stress the future internship provided.

They both worked hard to finish the Hexclaw soon and efficiently, resulting in a long month where Viktor dealt with the unrequited feelings the boy had for you. Not a day passed by without his golden eyes staring at one of the hammers they worked with for longer than he should, contemplating the option of throwing it right to his face if he dared speak another word. The thought left his mind every time, remembering a good plan required to be followed by the book.

As the days went by, Viktor persuaded his new assistant to stay in Demacia after his internship, so he better start notifying his loved ones he won't be returning soon to Piltover.

It wasn't crazy advice given how isolationist Demacia was known to be. His words were calculated and precise, sugarcoated enough to dress up as genuine advice for the naive guy, making him follow the destructive suggestion thoroughly.

The day came when the Hexclaw was set and finished, making both men look satisfied and impressed with the hard work they put into it. It was past midnight by then, leaving the moon as the only witness of the successful tragedy that awaited.

Our little fool packed his things quickly, aware the ship, supposed to take him to another nation, would set sail soon.

"Care to stay a little longer?" Viktor's voice came from behind him, dark enough to give him the chills. "We still have one thing left unsolved."

"And what would that be?" He finished packing, grabbing his bag as he turned to face Viktor.

He didn't expect to see him wearing the Hexclaw's glove, freezing in his place when he realized his hand pointed directly at him.

Just like the Hexclaw behind him.

The unkind smirk on Viktor's lips sent the poor boy a warning signal, bag falling to the floor, as stiff as him before his executioner.

He didn't quite grasp if the slight purple shimmer in Viktor's eyes was caused by the lack of light in the lab or by something else.

"The lethality proof, of course." Viktor laughed.

The boy didn't have enough time to scream.

Your body turned when the sound of the bedroom door slamming behind you echoed through the walls, being greeted soon after by Viktor's lips smashing yours furiously. Such impulsiveness in intimacy was rare to find whit him, but you didn't mind it, nor the faint irony scent that seemed to adorn his hands.

You kissed back, gradually getting used to the hunger his kiss made you experiment. Your legs met the edge of your bed, leaving you no time to react before Viktor pinned you down against the mattress, impatient fingers almost ripping the clothes off your skin.

Your hands held his cheeks once he managed to have you entirely exposed, admiring the unfamiliar glow in his eyes. "Are we celebrating something?" you asked, gasping for the air he stole.

He smirked, tracing his fingers down your neck as his lips kindly brushed your ear.

"I made a great discovery."

You would have asked something else if your mind hadn't left your body as soon as his lips met the soft skin of your neck, devouring and licking the path down your collarbone as he left red bruises wherever he kissed. The burning sensation of his marks hazing your mind as he travelled lower, your hands tousling the soft waves of his hair as the sounds of your whimpers mixed in a melody he could never get tired of.

Viktor contemplated his work of art once he reached your inner thighs: the body that drove him insane, now visibly belonging to him without anyone worth questioning; your wetness covered the sheets, lips swollen from his greeting and the uneven breaths you let out, no part of you left untouched. He smiled to himself, lowering his face against your dripping cunt.

"You have no idea how much I adore this view," he murmured proudly, the smile never abandoning his face.

Your response took the form of a moan when his tongue took control of your insides, kindly swirling it around as your sweet taste numbed his senses.

He needed it, he needed you, along with the satisfaction of calling you 'his' without a soul interfering.

Your back arching to his mouth working wonders on you was more than enough reward, his name being the only coherent word you could pronounce as you begged him for more. Only his caresses could get you going.

Not anyone's but his.

Only his.

Only him.

He sucked your clit with pleasure as two slender fingers replaced his mouth, delighted by your agitated moans as his digits curled right into the spot he knew how to reach with ease. Your grinding against his face became faster, erratic, letting him know a little more attention would drive you over the edge. His eyes looked up to your tensing neck before his body followed, his thumb taking the place of his mouth and pressing in your clit as his fingers hit your sweet spot.

"I love you."

His words made you open your eyes to stare at him, contemplating something rather new about him. He seemed greater, somehow prouder and happier, seeing you contorting in pleasure under his touch.

You let out a heavy sight, watching him lower his body atop yours. "I love you too."

He dragged your moaning to a kiss, gently grabbing you by the neck as it deepened and his pace turned faster inside you.

Pure worship and adoration flooded his eyes when he pulled away, the grip on the sides of your neck unhurriedly tightening.

"Are you mine?" He whispered over your lips.

Your response was wrapped between whimpers when the caresses on your clit became indescribably delightful and faster.

"Fuck. I'm yours, Vik, only yours."

He smirked, deciding it was time to remind you how pleasurable his company could be. His tongue met yours as your mind couldn't do anything but focus on the sensations on every single part of your body, the hand on your neck travelling to your nipples, playing with them and scratching down your breast.

He couldn't help but moan when he felt your orgasm on his fingers, bringing his mouth back down to taste every bit left he could, both calming you down and making you want more from the new stimulation.

Your hands flew to his hair once again, making him come up to lay on your chest as your fingers twisted some of his chestnut locks.

"So," you began, barely catching your breath, "what was that for?"

His fingers drew abstract figures on your belly, tracing upwards.

"The Hexclaw is now ready to be used."

Any sigh of tiredness vanished from your body to the news, proceeding to sit on the mattress, hugging your boyfriend's body and showering him with praise and kisses on his cheeks and nape, well aware of the amount of time and effort he put into this project.

Once you calmed down, Viktor laid his head back on your shoulder, enjoying the sudden joyful ambience the room gained.

"And what was your great discovery?"

Viktor's subtle stiffness remained unnoticed when replaced shortly with a light giggle that left a smile on his lips. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, satisfied.

"The Hexclaw turned out more powerful than anticipated, a bit, uhm, lethal, if you may."

Your head slightly tilted to the side, allowing him to softly kiss the marks that covered it. "So the prototype was successful, I assume."

You felt his smirk on your neck, unable to see the lovely darkness it hid.

"More than successful, love."

_________

Taglist: @scorpio-echo @hpapyrus @senha-fraca @helloyellowsheeps @mischievous-piltovian @emprixnix

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