Unfit dress

My first Viktor x f!reader. Hope y'all enjoy

word count: 1.738

warnings: angst, prejudice against people from Zaun, NO happy ending.

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

You know exactly what to expect from someone like Professor Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda. 

You’ve done your homework on the man: interviewed colleagues who’d taken his lectures as undergrads (scary — but great at his job had been the general consensus), and checked his ratemyprofessor profile. Which, by the way, had been a terrific read. 

Dr Sidorov-Svoboda is a very polarizing man, it seems. Reviews were either raving about his cogency, or saying they’d drive to his lecture without wearing a seatbelt in the hopes that death would take them before Sidorov did. There seemed to be no in-between, other than one review calling him a total DILF and rating him five out of five for that alone.

Cool down Genos 😉

My first Viktor x f!reader. Hope y'all enjoy, English is not my first language so verbs might be crazy in this one. (Do me a favor and point it out so I can fix the text).

"This one is too modern, the other families will scrutinize us if you walk down the aisle wearing it" of course they would, the elite of Piltover can't fathom the idea of a bride not wearing a gold threaded dress, my mother is no exception.

"My dear child, go on and try the one I have picked for you" The one I hated the most. Something in the air  tells me this 'dress fitting' is happening just out of tradition. The outfit of the dreaded day has likely already been chosen by her.

"Of course, mother" In other circumstances I would've started a fight, souring her day with my 'unbecoming behavior' and 'subversive ideas'. Today though, I don't have the strength for our bickerings, I would've been more lively choosing my burial garments than I am currently, picking my wedding one.

This dress is too small for me, surely meant to be worn with a tighter corset.

"Mother, call Myrah and ask her to bring a finer corset, the one I'm wearing now is not at all adequate for the dress you picked" She doesn't reply, but I know inside her head she said  something in the lines of 'well you should always use a tight corset, it's only proper!'.

Corsets, I still remember the first day I wore it as a dress code, and not as a deliberate fashion choice, 12 years ago.

"The Academy is strict with its dress code, child, so stop fussing and put on your garments correctly" Myrah snapped, her face held a severe expression, this is not like her.

"Myrah, are you alright? You seem upset" hearing my words, her face visibly softened, letting out a sigh she walked towards me, and embracing in a warm hug she muttered softly

"I'm sorry for that, it's not correct of me to let out my feelings on you" her weathered hands cupped my face, and touching her forehead against mine she said, more firmly this time " You're staying the semester away, I won't be there to help you, I need you to be responsible" she bit her lips and her eyes showed great concern and sadness " You are the kid here, and I'm the one that is moody and fearing separation, it's not fair"

Myrah has consoled me countless times in this house, my heart aches seeing her like this, so I try to emulate her tactics: cup her face with my hands, and with the sweetest voice I can muster I whisper to her "You're the only person I'll miss in this house, I too fear my future days without you, but the Academy our way out of this place, I'm sorry for being stubborn, I'll wear my corset every day in there" my words were meant to comfort her, instead they made her cry. "Don't cry, Myrah, I love you too much to see you cry" at that she laughs

" I love you too, my dear child, now go on and put on your uniform!".

Years later the reflection I see in the mirror is no longer a bratty kid on her first day at school. I see a woman, naked, outside and inside. My body, unprotected against the weather, and my soul exposed by my eyes. That was the day I met him. Chocolate hair, honey eyes and cream colored skin. The kid was like a dessert, physically and personality wise. Our first interaction is marked in my head, it's one of my dearest memories.

The classroom is smaller than I imagined, 12 desks are uniformly distributed in the room, but only 8 students are seated. Myrah was right, not many people can afford  school. Looking at the faces here I recognize 2 girls, the Hoskel twins - lucky me, only 2 more girls in the class and both of them hate me. Just 1 month ago my father had a heated discussion with theirs, in the higher classes, arguments between singular individuals become family contentions. At my side there is a boy, wearing a uniform that is too big for him and crutches leaning on his desk. His eyes shine with anticipation, and what pretty eyes he has, yellow, how unique. Oh, I think I'm staring I really hope he doesn't mind, because I can't seem to stop. The brown locks frame his face so well, not too short, not too long, perfect for him.

"Good Morning, class" the teacher's voice cuts through my transe " I'll be your teacher for the next 2 years, you may call me Mr. Asco"

The lecture of the day was about function limits, the applications seemed fascinating and the definition was intuitive, but the resolution of exercises? I'm frustrated to say the least. Whilst I'm here, looking at my simple function, with no clue on how to start all I can hear is pencils gliding through paper. Am I the only one that didn't find the list trivial? I can feel myself sulk in the chair. And it seems the kid besides me, the one with pretty eyes notices.

"Are you okay? Having problems with the exercises? I can help you" He has an accent, is he a foreigner? Must be. Before I can reply to him, Mr. Asco interjects

" Is Viktor bothering you, miss?" Viktor - what a fitting name - recoils, startled with our teacher's volume and tone.

"No Mr. Asco, Mr. ..." I wait for Viktor to fill in his family name,  but he quickly adds

"just Viktor is fine"

"Well, uhm, Viktor here was offering help, it seems calculus won't be an easy subject for me" I offer him a sheepish smile, but he doesn't notice, his eyes are drawing holes in the brunette boy.

" Very well, do not divert to silly conversations" As he leaves, Viktor looks at me, and thanks me for explaining the situation. " He would not have believed me if I was the one explaining"

"Why not?" A deeply confused expression emerges on his face, it's borderline funny the way his eyebrows arch and his head tilts

"Because I'm a zaunite, of course" Oh, that explains the accent, he is in fact a foreigner

"I did not know that" I mutter

" Is it a problem to you?"

"NO" escapes my mouth way too quickly, he smiles. What a pretty smile, I hope I get to see more of those.

One year went by quickly, I wasn't wrong in my assumption that calculus was going to be challenging, but Viktor helped in the best way he could, we became good friends, best friends even. We shared stories, laughs and secrets. He explained to me that he can study in the academy for free because of a settlement between professor Heimedinger and the principal. I told him about Myrah, that for the rest of the family she was my maid, but for me, she was my big sister. He refuted my hypothesis for the crutches, it was not an injury, rather it was a congenital condition. I detailed my plan of becoming a great scientist, making enough money to sustain me and Myrah and leave the family state for good. He shared his desire to become a great scientist too, and change the world for the better.

"What are you thinking about?" He startles me

"I've been thinking about what a great duo we are, a dumb  rich kid and a bright zaunite" he looks at me for a solid minute, lips closed in a straight line, no trace of humor in his face

"you're not dumb, the amount of time a person takes to understand a topic doesn't define one's intelligence" a pausem he seems to be picking the right words " but I do agree we're a great duo" his words made me shiver, and the smile that crept on my face was just inevitable. He smiles back, and I wanted to make this moment last forever.  Myrah used to tell stories about a genie inside the lamp, that grants you 3 desires, I'd ask to keep this smile in a little jar.

"Release the air, my girl, I'll tighten the corset for you" her sad expression is reflected in the mirror, I know she wanted me to marry him, to fight my mother and run away if necessary. God knows I would. I would give up on everything, live in the deepest helms of Zaun, he would be my oxygen and light. He would do even greater sacrifices, not for me, no. I'm not naive. His true love glimmer in blue inside his lab.

"You like the dress, Myrah?" She doesn't look up

" I think there's something better out there for you" we're not talking about a piece of fabric.

"The one I picked only fits in my head"

"Have you tried loosening it?"

"I was told if it was meant to be it would fit perfectly"

"That's an absurd statement"

"You told me that"

"Well I must've been out of my mind"

"You must think I'm so"

She stopped. Looked at me through the mirror, the kind eyes that raised me não held deep concern.

"It's not like you, give up without trying" oh but I tried. I've been trying for the last 11 years. I've been showing him my love all this time, it reached a point where I think he's just too kind to turn me down.

"I did all I could..."

"Have you told him about your feelings?" She interrupted me.

"It is not proper!"

"And since when you care for suchs? You've been glued by the hip with him ever since you met! And now out of the blue you're gonna marry the first preppy boy your mother proposes?" She knows it's not so simple. Viktor needs funding for his research. Aldo has the money, and promised me if I play nice he'll play for every single sheet of paper used to uncover the mystery of Hex tech.

"I've accepted I won't have him, why can't you?" If I can't be happy the way I pictured, let me at least have the solace of knowing he will.

"Because I love you too much to see you cry" she says wiping my tears, I didn't notice them rolling out of my eyes up until now.

"Myrah..." And more tears leave my eyes, now accompanied by sobs and ragged breaths. Breathing in her clean scent I calm down, enough to ask her to inform my mother I don't feel well and we should postpone the dress fitting.

I have to write a letter. 

'My Dearest Friend, Viktor

I'm sure you have already noticed, you are after all a very perceptive person, one of the traits that made you such a superb scientist . But I'll write it to let it out of my chest.

I do not love Aldo, never have. Our marriage is happening out of convenience. For the past 11 years my romantic feelings have been exclusively yours.

I've linked the dots of my affection on the day we agreed to make a good pair and you gifted me the most memorable smile I've ever had the honour of witnessing. I'm well aware you don't reciprocate, my intention with this letter is not to make you feel pressured or guilty. I just want to come out clean.

Please don't leave me, I know keeping it a secret all of those years was a mistake and you have all the right to be upset. I've always been scared of exposing my feelings and sabotaging our relationship along the way.

Tomorrow I have the day free, if you desire to talk to me, or maybe run away hahaha... I'll be at the central station from 13 to 17 pm.

Love, your pair'

It's 19 pm. I'm still waiting. It was silly, honestly. What did I have in my head when I sent that letter? That he would read it suddenly realize he was head over heel for me?

I guess i did. For a moment I thought that maybe... Every now and then I would catch him looking at me too, maybe... Maybe he helped me every time not just because he was a dotting friend, but because he liked spending those long hours next to me, occasionally touching hands, I sure did.

I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about today. I skipped breakfast and even though in the letter I said '13 to 17 pm' I've been sitting on this bench since 9 am.

It has rained, the wind is relentless, the sun is now fully set. I can't gather enough strength to get up. My body feels heavy, the little hope I had grew more and more each minute that passed, until 17 pm. After that, every minute felt like a dagger. People are living walking fast towards me, the movement makes me dizzy, the rejection causes me nausea.Am I about to throw up my heart? It feels like it.

I'll wait just a bit more, maybe he got caught in a long experiment, or his leg is acting up and that's why he's taking so long to get here, yeah that must be it... Just 20 more minutes and I'll leave.

He didn't show up.

I waited until 22 pm. I left only because the Batista from the station's coffee came to me and asked if I was alright. I was so embarrassed I just ran. My marriage is today. Viktor' s words from 11 years ago replay in my head:

"you're not dumb, the amount of time a person takes to understand a topic doesn't define one's intelligence"

Took me long enough to understand you.

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader x Jayce

CW: P in V, oral (fem receiving), cuckolding, threesome (sort of?), pet names, masturbation, fingering, smut, Viktor being a sad boi, Jayce being voyeuristic

Synopsis: Viktor is concerned about his performance in the bedroom. He’s worried he isn’t leaving you satisfied enough. So he calls in a favor from Jayce.

Word Count: 7k

Author’s Note: This was written on a whim. I have also never written for Viktor or Jayce before. But I tried my best.

Remember to like and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

Viktor had been agitated all week. He would pace back and forth across your room while he got ready. He distractedly ate before limping out the door, a chaste kiss pressed to your lips. If you could call the hastily given contact a kiss.

It continued when you went early in the afternoon to the lab, ensuring he took a break as you always did. His left foot tapped impatiently as he stared down at the papers on his desk. Viktor hardly said a word when you came in. Normally he’d push away from his desk, smiling up at you gently, asking before you could if you wanted to go on a short stroll. Nothing all week, just a mutter that he was busy and nothing would be taking him away from his work.

Even Jayce seemed odd. Avoiding your eyes. You weren’t getting the usual cheery greeting. Viktor and Jayce hardly looked at each other. You wondered if they’d gotten into another fight. Hit a roadblock they couldn’t seem to figure out a way around.

Is it bad I’m brainstorming a sequel? 😖

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader x Jayce

CW: P in V, oral (fem receiving), creampie, cuckolding, threesome (sort of?), pet names, praise, masturbation, hair pulling, fingering, smut, angst, Viktor being a sad boi, Jayce being voyeuristic, competitive, and a little jealous.

Synopsis: Viktor is concerned about his performance in the bedroom. He’s worried he isn’t leaving you satisfied enough. So he calls in a favor from Jayce.

Word Count: 12k

Author’s Note: This was written on a whim. I have also never written for Viktor or Jayce before. But I tried my best.

Edit 4/2/25 - I was not pleased with the quality of my work. So I wrote a second draft. I think the landing stuck better. It's a bit more angsty, and little more smutty. It went from 7k to 12k words, if that says anything.

Remember to like and reblog your favorite fics , and follow your favorite authors❤️

~*~*~

There was something wrong with Viktor. 

All week he’d been acting distant, almost agitated. Mumbling to himself when he thought you couldn’t hear. Giving you the saddest eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. Flinching away from your touch like it burned him. He insisted he was fine when you asked him about it. He picked at his food, laid rolled away from you - even sleeping in the lab twice. Which he hadn’t done in a long time. When he was home, he’d pace back and forth across your small apartment. Each clink of his crutch went right through your head. Before he left in the mornings, he’d press a chaste kiss to your mouth - if there hastily given contact could even be considered that. You couldn’t figure out just what had changed.

Viktor had even begun to talk in his sleep. The first night he muttered too low to understand. He restlessly tossed and turned, wincing sometimes. A hand going to paw at his bad leg. The second night was more fervent, his body shaking. In the faint light from the window, you caught tears rolling down his face. You could only wonder what happened when he slept away from you. One thing was certain - his voice whining out your name like a prayer over and over was never going to leave your head. 

Updated on 4/2/25 - now includes more angst, a little more smut, and an ending that I actually like. Also, it's generally better written than the original first draft.

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader x Jayce

CW: P in V, oral (fem receiving), cuckolding, threesome (sort of?), pet names, masturbation, fingering, smut, Viktor being a sad boi, Jayce being voyeuristic

Synopsis: Viktor is concerned about his performance in the bedroom. He’s worried he isn’t leaving you satisfied enough. So he calls in a favor from Jayce.

Word Count: 7k

Author’s Note: This was written on a whim. I have also never written for Viktor or Jayce before. But I tried my best.

Remember to like and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

Viktor had been agitated all week. He would pace back and forth across your room while he got ready. He distractedly ate before limping out the door, a chaste kiss pressed to your lips. If you could call the hastily given contact a kiss.

It continued when you went early in the afternoon to the lab, ensuring he took a break as you always did. His left foot tapped impatiently as he stared down at the papers on his desk. Viktor hardly said a word when you came in. Normally he’d push away from his desk, smiling up at you gently, asking before you could if you wanted to go on a short stroll. Nothing all week, just a mutter that he was busy and nothing would be taking him away from his work.

Even Jayce seemed odd. Avoiding your eyes. You weren’t getting the usual cheery greeting. Viktor and Jayce hardly looked at each other. You wondered if they’d gotten into another fight. Hit a roadblock they couldn’t seem to figure out a way around.

Is it bad I’m brainstorming a sequel? 😖

The.. lack of OPM fanfics is actually appalling. One would assume that this anime would be piling with fanfics, the men (and women) in this show are quite honestly (in my opinion) some of the most attractive/majestic anime characters I've come across. Their characters are intriguing too when you look into their lore. I am not seeing enough variety y'all... what are we doing, These beautiful ahh characters are literally being thrown your way. I should be seeing weekly updates. Why am i having to re-read fics...🗿

CAN I BE SO FR WITH YALL, VIKTOR IS CONSUMING MY THOUGHTS EVERYDAY, I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. SOMEONE TRANQUILISE ME BUT EVEN THEN ID BE THINKING OF VIKTOR AHHHHH

Unironically love logging onto Tumblr dot com to see a beloved mutual has discovered a new batch of sad old men to sink their teeth into and shake vigorously like a dog that caught a squirrel and following the dash backwards to the post that made them pick up the scent. Truly unparalleled social media experience.

@lavshaze :v

Nothing has ever described how I feel about silco so perfectly

Berserk and Souls

some images I've gathered comparing long-known Berserk inspirations behind Hidetaka Miyazaki's souls-games

eclipse vs. dark sun

Griffith vs. Dark Sun Gwyndolin

beherit vs. Miquella's egg

saint albion vs. anor londo

guts' swords vs. DS greatsword

bazuso vs. Siegmeyer of Catarina

gut's prosthesis + conceprt art for 97' anime

Malenia by Redgonist

sekiro prosthetic arm

Berserk Armour

Blaidd, The Half Wolf by TheSnakeBitchArt

reblogging this because I just remembered my obsession

need someone as violently fucked up as me

shit I’d worship viktor too that man is FINE

They made having blue hair and pronouns illegal in piltover

Angsty little one shot but might have a continuation

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

Life in Zaun was merciless. The air was thick with smog, pressing down on your lungs like a weight that never lifted. The world around you felt jagged and cruel, every moment a battle to find something worth holding onto. But then there was Viktor. In all that bleakness, he was the one thing that felt soft, gentle– something that made you believe there was still warmth in the world.

From the very first moment, he felt like something rare, a flicker of light in a place that seemed to swallow it whole. Viktor was an outsider, even here, his quiet resolve and sharp mind setting him apart. While others scoffed at his strange ideas and whispered about his limp, you saw brilliance. You saw him. He looked at the world not as it was, but as it could be. And when you were with him, it was impossible not to believe in that vision too.

The two of you were inseparable, bound together by the kind of friendship that felt like it could survive anything. Viktor had a way of caring that was subtle but profound. He would notice the smallest things. When you were too tired to climb the junk heaps, when your hands were scraped raw from searching for parts. Without a word, he would hand you his gloves or offer to help, his touch light and deliberate, as if he feared adding to your burden.

When you brought him scraps for his inventions, his face would light up, and he’d thank you as though you’d just handed him the key to a better world. And when you succeeded together, when a little machine sputtered to life or a contraption clicked into place, Viktor’s joy wasn’t just his own, it was yours too. He would smile at you, soft and unguarded, his golden eyes filled with a warmth that melted the edges of the harsh world around you. “I couldn’t do this without you,” he’d say, and you knew he meant it.

Even on the hardest days, Viktor made Zaun feel less suffocating. He had a way of turning silence into comfort, of making the smallest moments feel significant. You remember him waiting for you as you climbed through the ruins, his voice steady as he called out encouragement. “Careful, don’t rush,” he’d say, his accent wrapping around the words like a lullaby. And when you’d finally join him, exhausted and triumphant, he’d brush the dirt from your hands with a faint smile, his touch lingering just a moment longer than it needed to. “You’re always too reckless,” he’d murmur, but there was no scolding in his voice– only affection.

As you both grew older, Viktor became your safe haven, the one person who could make you feel seen and cared for in a world that tried to grind you down. Together, you dreamed of something better, something bigger than the narrow streets of Zaun. But then Piltover called.

Heimerdinger had seen what you already knew. That Viktor was extraordinary, someone who could change the world. When the offer came, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted. You should have been happy for him, but all you could feel was the looming loss, the cold dread of what his absence would mean.

The fight was inevitable, though neither of you wanted it. “You’re not holding me back,” he said softly at first, his voice almost pleading. “But I have to go, I can’t let this chance slip away.” His words weren’t cruel, but you heard them as a goodbye. And when he accused you of being selfish, of wanting to keep him trapped in a place that stifled him, it broke something inside you.

You lashed out, not because you didn’t want him to succeed, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of a life without him. “I thought we were in this together,” you shouted, the words cracking under the weight of your fear. Viktor’s face fell, his golden eyes dimming with a hurt that mirrored your own. “We are,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “but I can’t stay. I need to do this. For you, for everyone.”

And then he was gone.

The memory of him lingers like a ghost, bittersweet and ever-present. You still see him in your mind, sitting on the ledge of your old hideout, his rare smile lighting up the darkness. You hear his voice, soft and steady, telling you that you were more than the world ever let you believe. Even now, you wonder if he ever truly knew what he meant to you. Because in a world that gave you nothing, Viktor was everything. And you never found the words to tell him.

— i’m in love with a dying man

rating: mature. or explicit? i’m not sure. angsty study on grief in unconventional forms. (mild) smut purely for poetic reasons

word count: 4,1k

pairing: viktor x gn!reader

cw: terminal illness. several mentions of death. everyone is horny in a heartbroken way, so grab a napkin—but not for the reasons you think. and yes, you may dox me for making you even sadder after whatever happened in ep 6.

—

He licks a tear off your cheek, and it seeps in between the bumps on his tongue, all prickly salt running down your face in two glossy trails of sorrow. Stinging, when his calloused thumb swipes over a puffy eyelid, only to inevitably fall to your lip and tug, nudging your mouth agape. His desperate grip softens when you oblige and arch, letting him grunt over the slope of your throat; wheezier than you remember, raw, rhotic and ravenous. The hard shift of his lungs is palpable under your hand, ruckling heavily in his sternum. It almost breaks down to a cough when he cants his hips into you, slanting one last slow, weak slam. Spilling all his pent-up frustration deep inside you through that bitter orgasm, leaving a clumsy mess of stickiness to dry on your inner thigh. Stilling for you to hold him through that collapse, grateful for the shaky hand that you firmly fist into his hair. Not receding until at least a few kisses are strewn upon your shoulder. 

It’s always like this now. Viktor clings to you, and you cling to him, nails digging into handfuls of him hard enough to draw blood, each embrace so tight your ribs might just break if he doesn’t retreat in time. And god does he wish to let it linger, to drag it out until eternity tumbles in—even if his eternity is reduced to a question of mere months at best, even if he must crawl out of a casket to have your touch back. 

this has been gnawing at me slowly and it hurts so bad… i hardly cry over fics but GOD this one is exactly how i imagine losing the love of your life would feel. i don’t even know what i would do with myself