NO NEED TO FIGHT

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝/𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝- 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

His hips slap against yours in a frantic, desperate rhythm, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress with every thrust. Viktor’s thin frame trembles above you, his arms braced on either side of your head, shaking from the effort of holding himself up. His damp curls cling to his forehead, sweat dripping from his temple onto your skin, but he doesn’t slow down—not even for a second.

His breath is ragged, broken between whimpers and gasps as he buries himself inside you over and over again. The pace is wild, messy, almost frenzied, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops even for a moment. He lets out a high, choked sob when your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in deeper, forcing him to grind against you with each thrust.

“Please, please, please—” The word tumbles from his lips in a breathless chant, his voice cracking on every syllable. He’s shaking so much, completely lost in it, his forehead pressing against yours as he whimpers, needy and overwhelmed.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur, reaching up to cup his flushed face. His skin is burning, his pupils blown wide, tears clinging to his lashes. “You’re such a good boy for me.”

Viktor keens at your words, his whole body shuddering violently. He gasps, rutting into you harder, his hips stuttering against yours. “Mommy—” His voice breaks completely, raw and pleading. “I— I c-can’t—”

“You can,” you soothe, threading your fingers through his damp curls, pulling him close. His breath stutters, his lips parting with a desperate moan as you cradle his face, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. “You’re taking me so well. So deep. You’re being so good for me.”

His back arches, his hips slamming into you erratically as he lets out a wrecked, sobbing moan. “Mommy—f-fuck—!” His voice is so thin, so desperate, it makes your chest ache. “Too much, too much, I—”

“Shh, you can take it,” you whisper, running your hands down his trembling back, feeling every ridge of his spine, every taut muscle trembling beneath his feverish skin. You squeeze his waist, guiding his frantic movements, keeping him buried inside you. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

Viktor whimpers helplessly, nodding, his nails digging into the sheets beside your head. He’s completely at your mercy, his mind drowning in the pleasure, his entire body wound so tightly you can feel him teetering on the edge.

“Tell me, baby,” you coax, tightening your legs around his waist. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You—!” he sobs, burying his face in your neck, his voice breaking into something shattered and breathless. “You, Mommy—oh, fuck, you—”

His thrusts grow erratic, frenzied, his breath coming in ragged, desperate pants. He’s trembling so badly now, his whole body rocking against you, pressing you deeper into the bed.

And then—

His hips stutter, his breath catching in his throat, and he comes with a long, wrecked cry, burying himself as deep as he can go. His whole body locks up, a strangled sob leaving his lips as he spills inside you, warmth flooding your core as he shakes apart in your arms.

He clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to reality, his body collapsing against yours as he rides out the aftershocks, twitching and gasping with every pulse.

You hold him through it, stroking his hair, whispering soft praise against his temple. “That’s it, baby. You did so well for me. Such a good boy.”

Viktor shudders, pressing his face into your neck, his breath hitching. “D-don’t—don’t stop saying that,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, still trembling in your arms.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his damp curls. “I won’t, baby,” you promise, holding him close. “I’ll take care of you.”

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘the theatrics of a sick girl.’