~viktor x fem!reader
~ tags/cw: established relationship, smut kinda/maybe, religious illusions, idk bro there's something hot about fucking and alluding to god idk (religious trauma? perhaps)
~ w/c: 1.1k
~a/n: not proofread. i am once again writing in the middle fo the night cause why the fuck not, this orginally started as another idea but turned into this cause I started listening to hozier and got a lil carried away
Meticulous as Viktor might be when it comes to his work, that does not extend to other aspects of his life. Before each experiment, he is diligent in his preparation: a clear space, organised tools, a notebook open and ready with pen uncapped, and a sheet thrown on the floor in case of any spills or marks that may mar the marble floor. Not a single aspect of preparation is overlooked, if only he had that same attention to detail when it came to you.
There is no towel laid down, no locked doors, hell, the fucking window is open (not that anyone could peek in so high up but, it’s the lack of awareness and carefulness that had you panicking even as you rolled your hips against his face. Half laying on the desk, legs thrown over his shoulders, skirt shoved up around your waist, upper body being held up by your elbows as you stare down at your partner who is two fingers deep in your sopping pussy. Viktor is a man of few words when exhausted, the late nights and fast-approaching deadline draining him of his energy. Still, within the last ten minutes since you slipped into his workspace, you’d heard maybe seven words beyond his mumbled acknowledgement as you closed the door.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart.” The pet name barely left his tongue before he all but began to pant the second he set his sight on you, pushing the papers on his desk aside and patting the free space.
“Up,” he instructed as he began to loosen his tie.
His name was a warning on your tongue as you shifted on your feet, worried about what his intentions were, but you are not one to deny your beautiful genius, so even as you fiddled with the sleeve of your jumper, you crossed the space to slide onto the table.
“Skirt.” Cold hands slid up your stocking-clad thighs, slipping beneath the skirt that fell to your knees. It wasn’t particularly alluring, something you wore to the office on the days your usual uniform was at the cleaners. If anything, your other choice of skirt would have been more enticing. Knee length and tight, clinging to your waist and thighs exactly how you hoped, but there was something about the flowy one you wore today that had Viktor salivating.
Hands wrap around each of your calves. “May I?” index finger finding a small hole in your stockings.
It’s more of a warning that it’ll happen rather than a request for permission, but you nod regardless, too focused on the way Viktor lifted your legs to sling them over his shoulders, settling between them like it’s where he was meant to be.
Viktor stops himself with a bashful smirk, removing one of his hands to reach down and lift the lever of his stools, adjusting the height until he was level with your core. It was silly, watching the way he slowly shrank down, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you.
The rest of pretty self-explanatory. His mouth was on your cunt, tongue working you open as one of his hands held you down, rubbing circles on your clit smirking into you each time you jolted into his mouth. Your stockings had been torn, not completely, just enough for Viktor to have access to what he wanted most at that moment, free hand kneading the plush flesh of your thigh. Viktor, like everything else he sets out to do, is successful in his endeavour. he has you coming on his tongue in minutes, his name a sharp whine that has you slapping your hand over your mouth to silence any more unnecessarily loud gasps and moans.
“You’re getting too good at that.” you pant, pushing at his shoulders to create distance as he continues to lap at your too-sensitive clit.
Viktor hums into you, pressing one last kiss against your flesh before he pulls away and slides your underwear back into place. “eh, could be better.”
“Better? Do you want to kill me?”
“Yes.” Despite the space, your thighs still lay slung over his shoulders. “But only because I plan on dying right here, and I do not want anyone else to take my place,” he squeezes the fat in his hands.
“I don’t particularly want anyone else there either.” You shift yourself higher, eager to kiss him.
"Well then, we seem to be in agreement,” his lips quirk up into a smirk, the hold on your limbs unrelenting. "I did not think that such a thing was possible within this room."
"A rarity, I'm sure won't happen again." You tease, and even though you and Viktor rarely do agree on anything within a scientific setting, your personal beliefs and boundaries within life align a little too well for it to not be fate that you have found one another.
"I'm certain it won't," Viktor uses your thighs as leverage to stand, his footing a little uneven as his body adjusts to the new position, your hands coming up to rest on his hips, offering support as he leans over you. "Should we celebrate this momentous occasion?"
Your fingers begin to trail over the waistband of his trousers, slipping beneath to fish for the hem of his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours.
“Are you suggesting we desecrate your workspace further?" Your head flicks to the door, a sudden bang from the hall stealing your attention, but Viktor's fingers on your chin pull it back.
"I wouldn't call it desecration," his thumb pushes against your lower lip, prodding and waiting for permission. "sanctification, perhaps." his thumb slides against your tongue, his breath a sharp inhale as you begin to suck on the digit.
"It is a privilege to have you spread out on my desk," Viktor's eyes flutter closed as your own fingers trace the outline of his cock, contained behind the buttons of his slacks. "to have your voice echo throughout the room, the feel your mouth on mine, to know you deem me worthy of your time,"
“Viktor," your words are muffled, the reprimand swiped from your tongue as he pressed deeper.
"It would be blasphemous of me to think of you before me as anything but a divine blessing, and if I were to not worship you for all you were, then that would be the real desecration."
You blink up at him, eyes watering as he continues to press down on your tongue. Viktor leans closer, the scent of him engulfing you in a familiar warmth and slips his thumb from your mouth. Spit is smeared across your cheek as he cups your face and leans in, mouth slotting over yours in a searing kiss. You are quick to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to crush your body to his, to feel the planes of his chest flush against yours.
"I need you to fuck me right now," you grunt against his mouth, too tired of feeling the empty aching warmth between your thighs.
Viktor can't help but laugh. "You really do have such a way with words."
