it's just reblog of "Viktor x Reader"

[fishblade-koi]

BEHOLD my very first video montage 🎉🎉🎉 (i can finally rest in peace after 5 days of understanding how the hell this thing works) I was tired toward the end so I could probably have polished and modified some things but for a first time, I'm quite happy with it (•`ᴗ´•)୨ ✨

[youonlythinkaboutmeyouradiodemon]

Smoke and Sin behind the curtain.

ᴰᵉᵐᵒⁿᵎᴬˡᵃˢᵗᵒʳ ˣ ᴰᵉᵐᵒⁿᵎᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ᶠ⁾, ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ⁻ᵒᵘᵗˢ, ᵖᵘᵇˡᶦᶜ ʳᶦˢᵏ, ˢᵉᵐᶦ⁻ᵖᵘᵇˡᶦᶜ ˢᵉˣ, ʳᶦˢᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ, ʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ˢᵉˣ, ʷᵃˡˡ ˢᵉˣ, ᶜʰᵒᵏᶦⁿᵍ, ʰᵃⁿᵈ⁻ᵒᵛᵉʳ⁻ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ, ᵒʳᵃˡ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉˢ ⁽ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ⁾, ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐᵖᶦᵉ, ᴬˡᵃˢᵗᵒʳ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ᴬˡᵃˢᵗᵒʳ.

You lead Alastor through the swirling crimson gates of Hell, the air thick with sulfur and distant screams that fade into the haze of neon-lit streets. His grin is ever-present, sharp teeth glinting under the flickering lights of a dingy pool hall tucked away in the Pride Ring. The place reeks of stale smoke and spilled booze, demons hunched over tables, chalking cues with clawed hands.

Alastor follows with that signature swagger, his cane tapping rhythmically against the cracked floor. "My dear, what a delightful detour! Pool in the pits of damnation—how positively infernal," he croons, his voice crackling like an old radio broadcast. You grab a couple of cues from the rack, the wood worn smooth from countless games, and rack up the balls on the felt table, their colors vivid against the green.

A bartender demon slides over two glasses of something amber and potent—Hellfire whiskey, burning like liquid sin down your throat. You light up cigarettes, the flame from your lighter dancing in Alastor's wide, shadowed eyes. He inhales deeply, exhaling a plume that curls like demonic horns, his antlers casting jagged shadows on the wall. "Please, do the honors," he hisses with his trademark flirtatious expression, opening his arm towards the table as encouragement.

You break first, the crack echoing sharp as the white ball scatters the others. Alastor leans in close for his turn, his body brushing yours—tailored suit against your side, a hint of static electricity sparking where you touch. "Care to wager, darling? Loser buys the next round… or perhaps something more entertaining?" His claw traces the edge of the table, voice dropping to a sultry static hum, his eyes gliming on yours.

Shots flow freely now, the whiskey warming your veins, blurring the edges of the room. You sink a solid, laughing as Alastor misses his stripe on purpose, or so it seems, his eyes locked on you instead of the table. Cigarette smoke hangs heavy, mixing with the scent of his cologne—something vintage and spiced. Another drink, and your aim falters; he circles behind you, guiding your hand on the cue, his chest pressing firm against your back.

"Like this," he murmurs, breathing hot on your neck, his free hand sliding to your hip. The touch lingers, fingers digging in just enough to send a jolt through you. The game's forgotten as the alcohol hits hard—world spinning, inhibitions dissolving like ash. You turn in his grasp, cue clattering to the floor, and crush your mouth to his. He tastes like smoke and eternity, tongue flicking out with a growl, pulling you deeper into the haze. Bodies press together against the table, his claws raking down your sides as you fumble with his jacket, the fabric whispering open. The hall's noise fades; it's just the two of you, drunk on liquor.

The kiss deepens, Alastor's tongue thrusting into your mouth with a possessive hunger, his sharp teeth grazing your lip just enough to draw a thin bead of blood that he laps up greedily. His claws tighten on your hip, pulling you flush against him, the hard length of his cock pressing insistent through the thin fabric of his pants against your thigh. You gasp into the kiss, hands shoving his coat off his shoulders, the material pooling at his elbows as you claw at his vest next, buttons straining under your fingers.

He breaks away with a low, static-laced chuckle, eyes glowing red in the dim light, pupils dilated from the whiskey and the heat building between you. "Eager, aren't we? The night's young, my sinful companion," he purrs, voice distorting like a warped record, his breath ragged against your ear. But he doesn't pull back—instead, he grinds his hips forward, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your own arousal throbbing in response, pussy clenching with need.

The pool hall's murmurs and clinks of glasses feel distant now, drowned out by the pounding in your ears and the wet sounds of your mouths colliding again. You hook a leg around his, yanking him closer, feeling the taut muscle of his thigh press between yours. His free hand roams up your shirt, claws scraping lightly over your skin, tracing the curve of your ribs before cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens into a peak. A moan escapes you, muffled against his lips, and he pinches it sharply, drawing out a sharper cry that makes his grin widen.

Smoke from forgotten cigarettes lingers in the air, acrid and intoxicating, mixing with the sharp tang of spilled whiskey on the table edge where your hip digs in. Alastor's antlers seem to grow shadowier in the haze, his body a cage of heat and restraint as he nips at your jaw, then your throat, sucking hard enough to leave marks that will bruise purple by morning. "Tell me," he whispers, voice a velvet rasp edged with radio static, "how far do you want to push this game? Right here, with all these wretched souls watching? Or shall we find a darker corner?"

His words hang heavy, tension coiling tighter in your gut, every brush of his fingers promising more—his cock twitching against you, your body aching to feel him bare and thrusting deep. You shove a hand down, palming him through his pants, feeling the thick ridge pulse under your touch, but he catches your wrist, holding it there, eyes locking with yours in a challenge that dares you to beg.

Your eyes meet his, that challenge igniting something feral inside you, and you nod toward the shadowed alcove at the far end of the pool hall—a cramped booth half-hidden by a tattered curtain, where the neon flickers just enough to cast erratic glows but leaves plenty of darkness for sins like yours. Alastor's grin splits wider, all teeth and promise, as he releases your wrist only to snag your hand, tugging you through the throng of demons with a possessive grip. Laughter and the crack of pool balls echo around you, a burly imp glancing your way with a leer, but Alastor shoots him a glare that crackles with static, and the demon averts his eyes quick.

He shoves the curtain aside, pulling you into the booth's dim confines, the air thicker here with stale sweat and the faint buzz of faulty wiring. It's private enough—barely a table and bench squeezed against the wall, the curtain swaying like a flimsy barrier against prying eyes—but risky, oh so risky, with voices murmuring just beyond, footsteps scraping the floor nearby. Alastor wastes no time, spinning you to face the wall and pressing his body against your back, his cock grinding hard into the cleft of your ass through your clothes. "Here," he growls low, lips brushing your ear, "where the thrill bites just right. One wrong move, and every soul in this pit knows what we're doing."

His hands yank at your pants, shoving them down your thighs with rough urgency, the fabric bunching at your knees as cool air hits your exposed skin. You arch back against him, feeling the heat of his erection straining free now—he's undone his fly with one claw, the thick shaft slapping hot against your bare ass before he notches it at your entrance. No teasing, no mercy; he thrusts in deep with one brutal snap of his hips, stretching your pussy wide around his girth, filling you to the hilt in a burn that makes your vision blur. You gasp loud, the sound sharp and involuntary echoing off the thin walls, and immediately his palm clamps over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks to muffle it into a desperate whine.

"Quiet, darling," he hisses, voice a distorted purr against your neck, his other arm banding around your waist to hold you steady as he starts pounding into you, each drive of his cock pulling slick sounds from your joined bodies. The bench creaks under the force, and you bite at his hand, tasting the faint metallic tang of his skin, but it only spurs him faster—hips slamming forward, balls slapping against your clit with every plunge. Tension coils in the air, thick as the smoke drifting under the curtain; a demon's laugh booms too close, boots thudding past the booth, pausing for a heartbeat that has your heart hammering. Alastor's thrusts falter for a split second, his body tensing over yours, but he doesn't stop—instead, he grinds deeper, cock throbbing inside you as the footsteps move on, the almost-caught rush making your walls clench tighter around him.

You push back, meeting his rhythm, the friction building that sweet ache low in your belly, but when his angle shifts and he hits that spot inside you just right, a scream builds in your throat—raw and unrestrained. It rips out anyway, high and piercing, and Alastor's hands fly from your mouth to your neck, claws wrapping around your throat in a firm, choking grip. He squeezes just enough to cut off the sound, turning it into a strangled moan that vibrates through you both, his thumb pressing the pulse point under your jaw as he fucks you harder, the booth shaking with the intensity. "That's it," he rasps, breath hot and ragged, antlers casting jagged shadows on the wall from the neon bleed. "Scream for me silently—let me feel it."

The risk amps everything; another voice calls out nearby, slurred and curious, the curtain twitching like someone might peek, and Alastor's pace turns punishing, cock pistoning in and out of your dripping pussy, the wet squelch barely masked by the hall's din. Your hands brace against the wall, nails scraping the peeling paint, body trembling as orgasm crashes over you—waves of pleasure seizing your muscles, milking his shaft until he follows with a guttural snarl, burying deep and flooding you with hot spurts of cum. He holds you there, pinned and choking lightly on his grip, until the aftershocks fade, the voices outside none the wiser, but the thrill lingers like a live wire between you.

[lara635kookie]

Look at this cutie patootie lil baby, he's so silly, I love him

Oh... Okay... 🥵

[primadonnabish]

Okay, with the new KDH Jinu art out it’s time to do a bit of a closer look:

Firstly, 100% an absolute cat dad

Second, LOOK At This Absolute Fckin DORK (lovingly) his goofy lil faces and his sassy lil face at the end is giving me the cuteness aggression. I just wanna cup his face in my hands and call him “pookie” & “my little princess” repeatedly. 🥹

Finally, THESE faces, the 1st looks like he’s still goofing around probably in a fight with Rumi while also flirting with her. But the 2nd & 3rd faces that boy is MAD. Like I’m thinking in the final fight the Big Bad injuries/ attacks Rumi making everyone else think she was k*lled and Jinu just loses it. Or maybe in a calm before the final fight we get a bit of angst and backstory between Jinu & Rumi. After Rumi goes to fight the big bad leaving Jinu alone, later during the middle of the final battle Rumi is about to get sneak attacked when, wouldn’t ya know, Jinu shows up with the rest of the boys and fights alongside the girls.

[roz-ani]

THE (almost?) KISS SCENE EXISTS 🥹 Just one of many ideas for the Jinumi date, but I sense that sb is already making a fanfic out of this XD

They say they have more stuff too 👀

Source

Edit: Oh my God there's more

Release ALL the kiss cuts!!!

By @/charleshiltonart

[flyingdidii]

Backflips into your asks again hey this is the same anon that gave you that btas Jaydick request, mayhaps WFA jaydick? Only when you have time of course I don’t wanna overwhelm you or anything!

Hi anon, enjoy this kiss

[hoshinasblade]

hoshina soshiro boyfriend nsfw headcanons

having a hard time completing my fic so distracting myself with thinking of hoshina headcanons. this man is in my head 24/7, good lord. everything under the cut is nsfw, minors please do not interact.

sfw part one is here

a certified yapper during the entire thing - he never shuts up. hoshina does not have qualms about being loud; he enjoys feeling good, and letting you know that he does feel good. his moans are hot, and he dirty talks SO much especially if you're into it. you would know when he's close because he will let out a whole sentence with the nastiest swear words.

hoshina enjoys receiving more than giving oral. he also prefers sloppy blowjob more than any other foreplay methods. this does not mean that he hates taking care of you - quite the opposite, it's just that if he's given the choice, he would choose to have his cock in your mouth more than anything else.

when it's his turn though, hoshina does not disappoint in eating you out. he'll definitely make you cum more than once just to prove a point sometimes.

this won't require elaboration but hoshina is a fan of love marks and hickies on their significant other. it doesn't have to be on exposed skin, he cares more about the fact that he's marked you and you would be reminded that you are his.

KING OF AFTERCARE. hoshina never disappoints after sex too. he engages in pillowtalk, and will talk your ear off until you guys fall asleep. if you need him to fetch you something - water, snacks, a towel - let him know and he'll do it, no questions asked. when you have to put on clothes already, it does something to him if you wear his shirt.

again, his love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch and this translates to the bedroom too. hoshina has a huge praise kink which goes both ways - he would praise you for being such a good girl, and he would definitely get more turned on if you praise him for fucking you so well. physical touch is self-explanatory - hoshina has to be touching a part of your body all the time. if you guys are making out, his hands are roaming upward your thighs. when you guys are having sex, his hands are on your hips or playing with your tits.

hoshina is very visual so he appreciates nudes very much. the more candid and innocent you look, the better. he definitely has a folder in his phone that's password protected containing all the pictures you have sent him. for safe-keeping, he told you.

very good with sexting and although he has not outright sent a nude picture back - he would send you topless photos at most - he compensates by sending audio files of him being naughty. when he's feeling more generous, he would send a video recording of him stroking himself while he's moaning and saying your name.

having said that, hoshina is also very good at phone sex. his instructions will be very clear and he would sound very bossy - take your undies off, spread your legs farther apart. he would also always make sure you finish first before him. he may be horny, but he's also a gentleman.

[heyoogabi-deactivated20221111]

could make one imagine where viktor is so busy that reader brings him food and gives him food while his hands are busy, in one of those bites, viktor is not looking and reader steals a kiss from him. please it's so cute I wouldn't mind feeding you.

aaaw this is so cute!!!!

Viktor x reader

"Vik, I'm here!" You shouted as you entered the lab, looking around for the scientist, "I brought us dinner. It's from that fancy restaurant Jayce mentioned"

"The one with the weird lobster?" He inquired as he left the storage room, and you laughed in response, "Yes, that one, but I brought us that soup you liked it" he smiled and walked up to his desk. "You're an angel." he chuckled.

You gave him one of the cups with soup as you started eating yours. "Vik, you're not eating," you said, picking up his cup and offering it to him. "I know, but I can't stop right now." You sighed and sat beside him, your legs touching; he tensed a little.

You opened his meal and filled the spoon with the soup inside of it, bringing it close to his lips. He stared at you with a weird look on his face while you smiled wide at him. "I'm not a baby." you shook your head in denial sarcastically, and he sighed.

He soon opened his mouth and let you feed him while he worked. His hands were busy fixing the prototype for the hex-arm.

You've never seen him so concentrated. He was biting the tip of his tongue as he readjusted the wires; he looked perfect. You let the dinner rest on top of his table as you get closer to him, one hand on his thigh and the other reaching for his chin "Vik", you whispered, and he mumbled in response.

He didn't turn to face you. You moved closer and stole a kiss from him; it was a quick move but enough to make him stop working. His cheeks burning and his eyes lost.

He looked at you after he recomposed himself, wide eyes and a contained smile. "Did you just-" he pointed to his lips, and you caressed his thigh as you shrugged your shoulders.

Viktor let out a chuckled and reached to touch your chin, pulling you for another kiss, a real one this time, filled with confusion and adrenaline. "We're actually doing this", you mumbled. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." He cupped your face and closed your eyes, enjoying the moment you thought it would only happen in your dreams.

[inkinflux]

Don’t Ask For Permission

Viktor x gn!Reader | 2.3K | 18+

You and Viktor have a flirtatious relationship, since you have a fair bit of experience in the art of seduction. Viktor never thought it would lead anywhere, until one day he finds you on your knees before him.

A/n: A little face fucking. A little edging. You know, the usual for a fine friday afternoon. 

You knew exactly how to push Viktor’s buttons, and quite frankly, you were driving him mad.

It had started with teasing flirting. That, Viktor was good at. He had a quippy wit and enough humour to keep the interactions light, never falling into the realm of possibility. That was, until you starting touching him.

Feather light brushes against his shoulders that set him on fire, longing for you in a way he’d never felt before. Tucking his hair back when his hands were occupied moving a volatile hexcrystal to a safe antechamber. Pressing your palm to his back whenever you helped him rise from his chair, as if you hadn’t seen he was perfectly capable of doing that by himself.

There was always an excuse for your hands being on him, so he let it go every time. He stewed hopelessly in his pining, and late at night, wallowed in the sensations he could only unsatisfyingly replicate with his own big, rough hands. He wanted your soft ones on him, paired with that brazen smirk you gave him whenever he became visibly affected by you.

Viktor went through the motions in his room in the dark, his fingers touching the flesh you’d caressed that day, like a prayer for more to come. Such invocations were quickly answered as you became more confident, responding to his positive reactions.

You’d touch his arm, and he’d make a sound reminiscent of a purring cat. So, you’d touch his face, and he’d lean into your hand. All these good signs lured you into the assumption that Viktor enjoyed your hands on him, though you wanted to be sure it was specific to you and not just a touch-starved man desperate for any sort of contact.

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