#i hope you guys enjoy this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheeriecherrymain · 10 months

Text

Your Room [Viktor x fem!Reader] [2/2]

[Part 1]

---

The walk back to Viktor’s room seems longer than it actually is.

Punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes, the two of you meander forward, hand in hand. The pad of his thumb is soft, affectionately stroking over the curve of your knuckles.

Neither of you say anything: there’s not much to be said, anyways. You both know what’s going to happen the moment you’re behind closed doors. You both know that your relationship is going to change forever.

The thought alone sends little thrills coursing through your veins - not only the fact that you’re probably about to have the best sex in your entire life, but also the fact that you’ll get to keep him afterwards. The fact that you’ll get to take him on dates, and learn new things about him, and have all kinds of experiences that you otherwise wouldn’t.

His steps falter then, startling you out of your thoughts as the two of you come to a stop, smack in the middle of a wide, empty hallway.

“You okay?” you ask, concerned.

Strangely enough, though, he only tightens his hand around yours, giving you a gentle smile. “I was going to ask the same of you,” he admits. “You stopped breathing for a moment - I wanted to make sure you were…you know. Okay.”

You bite back a grin, and nudge him a little to make him walk again.

“I was just thinking,” you explain quietly, once you find your pace together. “I’m excited for tonight.”

You don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks.

“But I’m also excited for tomorrow night. And the night after that. After the night after that. I’m looking forward to making a future with you - I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m glad you’ll be a part of it.”

The air hangs heavy between the two of you, so thick that you can almost feel it every time you draw a breath. Viktor has, much to your amusement, quickened his steps. He tugs you down the hall, possibly faster than you’ve ever seen him amble, and you’re unable to resist the delighted little giggle that bubbles past your lips.

—

His room is thankfully not too far.

It still takes forever for him to dig out his keys and fumble around with them, though. You almost expect him to drop them, with the way he haphazardly leafs around the ring, but he doesn’t. He all but shoves the door open once it’s unlocked, stepping aside to let you in.

The front hallway is remarkably narrow, but he appears to have thought ahead and left a light on that morning. You’re grateful, really - with the amount of clutter he’s got piled up along one wall, you’re certain that you would have tripped or broken something.

Either way, you don’t get much time to look around.

The door clicks shut behind you, and in an instant, Viktor’s hands are on your waist. Spinning you around so he can oh so sweetly press you against the open wall, bringing your lips together in a searing kiss.

He wastes no time reaching around to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your skirt, shoving the offending material away from your body. You briefly wonder how he even knows where all your buttons and clasps are located, but the more you think about it, the less surprised you are.

He’s always been detail-oriented. Why would this be any different?

You, on the other hand, have a more difficult time divesting him of his clothing. Not for the complicated design, or a ridiculous amount of ties and folds - rather, every time you try to remove something, he squirms around and drags you closer to his bedroom.

“Viktor…” you whine, when you finally arrive at your destination.

Your clothes have been discarded and dropped along your pathway, leaving you mostly bare to the slightly chilled air of his apartment. He, on the other hand, is still entirely dressed, much to your dismay.

You recline comfortably across his bed, shyly peeking up at him where he stands at the end, shamelessly leering at you. Worry wiggles in the back of your mind for a moment, wondering briefly if you looked alright, if he was pleased with what he saw.

Until he starts pulling at his own garments in earnest.

Gaze never leaving your body, he loosens his tie and tosses it aside. Pops the buttons of his vest apart, letting it fall off his shoulders. Unclips the cuffs of his shirt, and pulls it over his head.

You can see the way his face darkens as each article plops to the floor. Flushed the most delectable shade of pink, from the tops of his cheekbones out to the tips of his ears. Most notably, you can see the way he avoids meeting your eyes, despite the fact that he’s still looking at you.

You push yourself up, rising to your knees.

“C’mere,” you murmur, eagerly reaching towards him. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the usual bone-deep chill of his hands - dotted with little freckles and moles, speckled across the expanse of his pale flesh.

“You’re perfect,” you tell him honestly, before pulling him down into a kiss. Slower than your previous one, deeper and more insistent. His lips easily part when you nip at them, allowing you to slide your tongue hot against his - a soft groan tumbling out.

This time, when you move to the waist of his trousers, he doesn’t try to redirect or deter you. You can feel him tense slightly, but he ultimately allows you to remove the last of his clothes. You, of course, have always been efficient: you shove his slacks down alongside his underwear, keeping your grip on him steady while he kicks the pile aside.

And then you pull him forwards.

Entirely ungraceful, he tumbles onto the bed with you, allowing you to take advantage of his momentary loss of balance to flip him over onto his back. He fights you a little bit, snorts and giggles rising up between the two of you while you squirm around and bat at each other.

A squeal, erupting from you when he pinches the soft fat of your ass.

A debauched gasp, when you dig your nails into his hips.

Until you’re able to settle finally, dispelling some of the nervous tension that had accumulated on the walk over. Smiling warmly at each other, hopeful for the future you’ll be making together, excited about what adventures you might go on.

Excited for the rest of the evening.

You lean towards him and draw him into another kiss, slow and intimate. Your breath mingling together as you bring your bodies impossibly closer. You can feel where he presses against your tummy, his cock already hard and leaking with desire.

Never parting from him, you bring your hand down to wrap around him, reveling in the way his breath catches in his throat when you squeeze your fingers around velvety flesh. He’s thick, you think, your mind trailing back to earlier, when he’d been four fingers deep in your desperate cunt.

He’d told you that it would still be a tight squeeze, and god, you’re more than thrilled that he’d been telling the truth.

“Fuck, you’re going to fill me up so good,” you sigh dreamily, parting your lips for the briefest moment. “If I didn’t want to tease you so much, I’d be begging you to fuck me right now.”

Since leaving the lab, he’d been calm. Easygoing and pliant, reciprocating your touches with his own tentative ones: a contradiction to how he’d treated you when he’d had half his hand inside you, whispering filth in your ear, promising you the most delicious things.

But now, as you murmur those same dirty little things to him?

It’s like a switch flips inside him.

He swiftly bullies you onto your back, all but ripping your panties down your legs, tossing them carelessly aside. Your bra follows suit, and then his mouth is on you - sucking little bruises into your skin, leaving behind the tender imprints of his teeth. You’re going to be feeling him for hours.

“I should fuck you,” he growls, rolling one of your nipples around before pinching hard. “You were so desperate earlier - I bet your sweet little cunt is still loose and wet from my fingers. I could just slide right in.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slides the blunt head of his cock through your folds, applying the barest hint of pressure when he catches on your hole. Teasing you, taunting you, not quite pushing hard enough as to sink in and give you what you want.

You whine impatiently, trying in vain to roll your hips, hoping that he might have mercy and fill you.

“I’m not going to,” he tells you, plainly. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to shush you with an open-mouthed kiss, mostly tongue.

“I want to taste you first,” he hums, kissing a path down the column of your throat. “I want to fuck you with my tongue, and make sure you’re nice and open for me.”

From your neck, to your collarbone, to the center of your chest, he leaves a scalding wet trail. Pausing briefly to find his entertainment with your breasts, laving his tongue over one nipple before closing his lips around it to deliver a harsh suck. Giving attention to both of them, until they’re sore and puffy and drawn into stiff peaks.

Only once he’s satisfied does he continue his journey down your body, leaving more bites in his wake.

Even once he’s inches from your weeping pussy, he still teases you. Nipping and sucking at the insides of your thighs, your legs held open by his dextrous hands. His breath tickles the soft hairs littering your skin, making you squirm beneath his ministrations.

“Viktor, please,” you whimper, trailing your own hand down towards your drenched cunt, desperately searching for any kind of pleasure, even just to take the edge off.

As expected, he bats you away.

“Keep your hands by your head,” he orders lowly, glaring up at you with beautiful honeyed eyes. The familiar amber now almost totally eclipsed by the black of his pupils. “You’ll have your pleasure from me, or you’ll not have it at all - understood?”

You whine.

He smacks the inside of your thigh, not an inch from your dripping core.

“Understood?” he repeats, and this time, you nod.

After that, he gives you what you would truly describe as the most blissful kind of torture you’ve ever experience. Keeping you waiting, wanting, thirsting for move of him.

His tongue plunged deep into your hole, while he flicks his thumb over your puffy clit. Working fast designs onto your slick bud, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Only to change his tactics on a whim, removing his mouth from you entirely so he can fuck three fingers into you without so much as a warning.

Crooking them perfectly within you to find that delicious little spot, sending a dull ache of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Relentless in his movements, he keeps his eyes on your face so he can watch you writhe and cry.

“Look at you,” he coos, pulling his fingers out right as you’re about to come. You whine in frustration at the loss of sensation, tightening your grip on the headboard, but he only grins up at your mercilessly.

“Pretty thing, getting all worked up like that,” slowly, almost tenderly, he spreads your pussy open, watching enthralled as you tremble and clench around nothing, so close to your orgasm and yet so painfully far. “As if I would let you come so soon. You can sob and beg and cry as much as you want to, you can make a mess: it doesn’t matter. You’ll come when I allow it.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit again, bemusement sparkling in his eyes when the smallest spatter of fluid squirts out of your cunt, dribbling down his chin. “Though,” he hums, “I might have to make you do that again.”

And just like that, he continues his beautiful torment.

Bringing you to the edge again and again, almost gleeful when you whine like he’d predicted, sobbing, begging, crying.

Until you’re unable to do much more than quiver at his touch, your voice hoarse and broken, throat dry. You don’t understand how he’s able to reduce you to such a state, tears tracked down your cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, eyes lidded and glazed over with desire.

You’re so dazed and out of it, you barely even notice the press if his lips on your tummy. Slowly, gently, kissing his way back up your body, leaving a pathway of warmth as he goes.

“Oh, milý,” he whispers, when he finally reaches your face. Littlering your cheeks with little smooches, his previously joyous expression falters slightly.

“I didn’t break you, did I?” he asks, the genuine concern obvious in his tone. “If it’s too much for you, we can stop for tonight - no questions asked. We can-”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, and immediately you begin squirming. A flurry of movement, gripping weakly at whatever parts of his body you can reach, all in an attempt to dissuade him from the idea.

“No, no no no,” you beg, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Please- please- I want to come- Viktor I’ve been good, I’ve been good for you-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his hand finding your jaw so he can guide you into a sweet kiss. “You’ve been so good for me, letting me have my fun with your perfect cunt, giving me whatever I so desire. You didn’t even come, just as I told you to.”

He grips your hip and rolls you onto your side, where you both lay facing each other. His expression infinitely softer than it had been, all the warmth and affection he feels for you seeping forth from him, comforting you with each delicate press of his fingers.

“Would you take me now, milý?” he asks quietly, hooking a hand behind your knee so he can hike your leg up over his hip. “Would you let me fill you up? With my cock, with my come?”

You sniffle wetly, overwhelmed from the sudden onslaught of emotion. But still, you muster a nod.

“Please,” you whimper.

Your lips meet again, slow and unhurried as you mesh together, parting and gasping and crying out, tongues sliding against each other.

The dull pressure of his cock nudging your entrance, already slick with your wetness.

And then, slowly.

Slowly,

He spreads you open. His blunt head sliding into you, inch by inch, deeper and deeper, impossibly deep, you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. The stretch burns so perfectly, despite the way he’d fucked you with his fingers, nothing could have truly prepared you for the all-encompassing feeling of him finally sheathing himself within you.

The two of you stay like that for several moments, wrapped up tightly in one another, your breaths catching in your throats and mingling. His voice, as cracked and debauched as yours is, rumbling forth from his throat.

“You’re incredible,” he groans, his brows pulling together as he fights to not lose himself in the sensations. “Perfect- můj krásný miláčku.”

Once he starts fucking you, his pace is relentless.

His thrusts are short and quick, just barely pulling out of your ruined cunt before fucking hard back in, finding a rhythm in mere moments, holding you close while he uses your drenched hole.

You can tell he’s lost to the pleasure, his movements sloppy and bordering on unhinged, though no less delectable - and after everything he’s put you through, it doesn’t take much for your orgasm to approach once again. Every muscle in his body is strung taut, holding you so close, keeping your sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he huffs, his pace never faltering. “You squeeze around me so good - I never imagined you’d feel like this. All my nights alone in the lab couldn’t compare to how you feel- fuck!”

In his desperation to see you come, he manages to slip a hand between your bodies, to rub fast little shapes against your oversensitive and swollen clit. You practically wail the moment he makes contact, digging your nails into his skin.

“Come for me,” he demands, begs. “Come for me, and I’ll fill you up-”

Your breath catches in your throat.

And your orgasm crests over you. White-hot and violent, sending tremors down each of your limbs as the world around you is drowned out and all you can feel is Viktor.

Inside you.

His breath, tickling your face.

His hips, stilling against you.

Filling you, hot.

Impossibly full, dripping out of you.

Time is lost to you, with nothing but the flutter of your heart to alert you to the passing minutes. You’re boneless, untethered, floating aimlessly in an unknown place of unimaginable bliss.

Until slowly, tenderly, lovingly, you’re brought back to yourself.

The warmth of a damp cloth, cleaning you up, followed by another to softly pat you dry. The feeling of lips, gentle against your skin, and the pads of fingers, drawing patterns over your sides. Leaving goosebumps behind.

You take a deep breath.

Sigh in contentment.

Open your eyes.

And there is Viktor, staring at you with the utmost affection, and dare you say, love. His cheek smushed into a pillow, he watches you as he touches you, innocently, waiting patiently while you gather your wits and come back to him.

“Are you well?” he wonders, bringing a hand up to your face, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek.

You huff a quiet laugh.

“I think I love you, Viktor.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #the ace writes naughty stuff #i hope you guys enjoy this

277 notes · View notes

hailsatanacab · 5 months

Text

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #batpham #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #look. this has been in my mind for so long guys so long - and idk if its canon that the batfam have codes for time travel situations or what #but i feel like ive seen it before and if its not canon it should be #so here - how i think that would be funny to go down #i have so many thoughts about TUE and its place in a dpxdc crossover like holy shit there's so many ways it can go!!#i have another wip in the works thats kinda similar to this but with superman and i cannot wait to work on it again #there are so many ways i wanted this to go but i just couldnt get there - i wanted to keep it on the shorter side but like #perhaps ill have to expand #i just love the idea that like. theres a stranger at your table who knows you and knows you well. who knows the secret that youd die to keep #there's a stranger at your table and he says something and you know he's family. you know you're strangers but now...#now you have to be something more #oh man theres so many juicy ways it can go and I KNOW I DID NONE OF THEM #i want to write this whole plot again and make it angstier #(me with everything)#anyway! sorry love you all hope you enjoy it!!

6K notes · View notes