Prompt Post 1

[makkachin]

Notes: This post might contain adult contents. Proceed at your own discretion.

This is the place where you can request fics and fill requests

Rules (May change later):
1.Anon not necessary but recommended.
2.Put pairings/kinks/tropes/warnings on the comment title.
3.Any kink is fine. Fic or art fills is fine. Multi fills is encouraged.
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5.For the ease of prompt finding and email tracking please use full names from the official site in the comment title, except please write Yuri Katsuki as Yuuri Katsuki to differentiate him from Yuri Plisetsky.
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<sub>Names:
-Yuuri Katsuki
-Victor Nikiforov
-Yuri Plisetsky
-Seung Gil Lee
-Emil Nekola
-Otabek Altin
-Georgi Popovich
-Cristophe Giacometti
-Guang-Hong Il
-Jean-Jacques Leroy
-Phichit Chulanont
-Michele Crispino
-Kenjiro Minami
-Leo De La Iglesia

-Toshiya Katsuki, Hiroko Katsuki, Mari Katsuki
-Takeshi Nishigori, Yuko Nishigori, Axel / Lutz / Loop Nishigori
-Minako
-Hisashi Morooka
-Yakov Feltsman
-Celestino Cialdini
-Mira Babicheva
-Lilia Baranovskaya
-Sara Crispino
-Kolya Plisetsky</sub>


Ao3 collection:
https://archiveofourown.org/collections/YuriOnIceKink

Comments

FILL part 1: Victor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki, objectification, rape fantasy of a sort

[(Anonymous)]

NOTES and WARNINGS: Please be mindful that this fic does not include negotiated play. It is meant to be fully consensual, but if you require explicitly defined rules to feel comfortable with the themes of objectification and powerlessness then this is not the fill for you. I'd love for people to consider the prompt above as open to other interpretations, and if anyone wanted to try their hand at the idea (with any level of negotiation included) I'd be the first one to read it.

With that being said, content notes for bondage, rape-play and/or rape-fantasy, overstimulation, dirty talk, objectification, comeplay, bareback, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, prostate milking. If I missed anything, let me know. ^_^

---

Viktor runs his fingers through the dense, silky shift of Yuuri’s hair. It’s a little damp near his scalp, sweat clumping the strands. Next to him, Yuuri hums and shifts a bit until he finds a comfortable spot on Viktor’s chest, his own hand thumbing idly at Viktor’s nipple. Each brush sends a pleasant after-tingle of pleasure through Viktor’s groin.

Yuuri looks up at him, face smooth and open and just a little pink. “Kind of hard to get me pregnant when you’re wearing a condom,” he says, deadpan.

Viktor snorts laughter, feeling himself color as he kisses Yuuri’s forehead. “Heat of the moment malysh.”

Yuuri grins, returning the kiss with one to Viktor’s neck, and then his jaw.

“You know,” he says, “I had a similar thought when you first showed us the Eros choreography. I’d never been so… so turned on.”

“Really?” Viktor says, pleased. “Yet you wouldn’t sleep with me, how curious.”

Yuuri gives a little half shrug, yawning into Viktor’s clavicle. “I um. Needed more time to prepare before I could be that close to you. Or I would have embarrassed myself.” His face is so hot Viktor can feel it against his chest.

“Yuuuuuri,” he coos, delighted. “How many times did you touch yourself, thinking of me?”

“Shut up,” Yuuri grumbles.

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor sings into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri bites him. “Ow!”

There’s a beat of contrite silence, and then: “At least once a day since I was about fourteen.”

“Darling,” Viktor says, snaking his arm around Yuuri’s back to better pull him in tight. He spends several moments trailing his fingers down the dip of Yuuri’s spine, then adds, “After the grand prix I masturbated for the first time in years.”

“Years?” Yuuri says. Viktor shrugs this time.

“You were inspiring. I thought of kissing you and made a mess of the hotel chair’s upholstery. It didn’t clean up very well.”

Yuuri laughs and Viktor grins, thinking warmly of the memory. His cock goes a little heavy against his thigh.

“I used to daydream we’d meet,” Yuuri says. “You’d take me to some beautiful house, somewhere remote, and no one would know I was with you. It’d be the last place anyone would guess I would be, knowing how much I wanted you.” He squirms a little, tucking his face against Viktor’s side. “Everyone would think I was missing.”

“Would you be hiding from something?” Viktor asks.

“No,” Yuuri mumbles. “You’d keep me tied up. Wherever you wanted me. You’d go to competition and act very concerned if someone talked about me, but then you’d come back, and…” he trails off.

Viktor is hard. It’s a little sensitive, so soon after their last round, but he’s picturing the drive up to Chris’ family chalet, snow whipping fitfully as he lets himself inside. There’s nothing but the silence of the house, and deep in the warmth of the master bedroom, Yuuri bound to the bed - flushed and waiting.

“Yuuri,” he says, rough. He rolls to his side and palms Yuuri’s hip, helping him turn over. He’s easy and smooth, pulling one leg up so Viktor can fit himself in, sliding deep without resistance. Yuuri gasps, pliant as Viktor gets some leverage and starts to fuck him again.

They breathe together harshly, Yuuri’s hand beneath them kneading his half-hard cock. Viktor wants to come, indecision making his rhythm falter as he pinches Yuuri’s nipple. “What do you need?” he says instead.

“Harder,” Yuuri blurts, half hiding under a pillow. Viktor knows what he wants, posting up on both knees and getting a hand on the back of Yuuri’s neck to hold him down. His hips slap at Yuuri’s ass, building on the soft bleats of need coming muffled through their mattress. It’s so good - Viktor’s balls contract and he pulls out, aiming his come down the slope of Yuuri’s back. Yuuri goes taut as a bowstring, shoulder jostling furiously with the rapid shuffle between his legs.

Viktor catches his breath and puts more weight into his hand, pushing Yuuri’s face deeper into the mattress. In response, Yuuri cries out, his hips hitching, the soft patter of his come hitting the bed. He collapses seconds later, uncaring of the wet spot beneath him. Viktor slumps half across his back, eyes heavy.

He sucks a messy kiss against Yuuri’s nape, does a haphazard cleanup job with the sheet and follows Yuuri quickly into sleep.

***

Yuuri isn’t expecting it because it’s weeks later, long enough for him to have forgotten. He opens his sleep-sticky eyes to a soft click, his arms above him and Viktor peering down at him. It takes a moment to realize there are cuffs around his wrists and he can’t pull his arms down. Confused, he focuses on Viktor, who’s holding a length of soft fabric in his hands.

“Viktor, wha—?” he starts, more baffled than anything. Viktor interrupts him by placing the cloth against his mouth. It’s twisted into a firm, rope-like shape, and Viktor gives him a solid minute to protest before carefully sliding it past Yuuri’s lips and between his teeth. Yuuri’s eyes go wide, fully awake when Viktor ties the fabric off behind his head. It’s a gag.

Viktor sits back on his heels, smiling, his palm making a proprietary slide down Yuuri’s chest. “Pretty kotyenok,” Viktor says. “Right where I want you.”

Yuuri’s pulse kicks up. He looks up at his wrists, tied to the headboard in soft leather shackles with a metal chain connecting them. They clack against the wood as he tugs. The gag is thick enough that words are unintelligible, but he makes a little noise of question, and then of surprise as Viktor rolls him over like a piece of furniture. The chain twists, drawing his hands tighter together.

“Beautiful,” Viktor says, squeezing and parting Yuuri’s ass. A familiar squirt of cold hits Yuuri’s crack and he jerks, suddenly aware of how ragged his breathing has become as Viktor sinks a finger inside him. “I canceled our plans today,” Viktor says, conversational as he quickly adds a second finger. “I told everyone you weren’t feeling well and that we’ll be taking the weekend to help you recover. I hope you don’t mind.” Both fingers scissor and Yuuri jerks, panicked anticipation ballooning inside his chest. “Come darling, open up for me,” Viktor says, removing his hand for more lube before screwing back in, three fingers ignoring the pitiful resistance of Yuuri’s muscle.

Yuuri is frozen, swallowing air as Viktor expertly stretches him. It’s unfamiliar in its ruthless efficiency, and then Viktor shifts and Yuuri chokes, eyes rolling back as his whole world narrows to thick and hot and hard buried inside him.

Viktor purrs, slapping at Yuuri’s ass to make the muscle shake. “Beautiful,” he says again, grabbing Yuuri’s hips to hold him steady for a few lazy thrusts. “Sweet Yuuri. You feel so good, I’m not going to last long,” Viktor grunts, pulling Yuuri’s hips up until he gets his knees under him.

It’s a humiliating position, chest flat to the bed with his ass presented and his arms useless above his head. Yuuri can hardly breathe, every heaving inhale spreading the heat of Viktor’s inescapable touch straight to the nerve endings in his toes and the roots of his hair and the base of his spine. It’s a perfect position for Viktor to stand behind him and pump, his movements quick and artless, selfish.

Yuuri moans around the spit-damp cotton in his mouth, cock swaying heavily as Viktor’s pace picks up and his panting goes thin and rapid.

“I’m going to come,” Viktor warns, hooking a hand over Yuuri’s shoulder to shove in hard. “You’re going to make me come, Yuuri, oh fuck,” Viktor gasps, not pulling out but touching deep. Yuuri whimpers, overwhelmed and clenching desperately in a grab for satisfaction.

Viktor moans appreciatively against his back, grinding down before pulling out with a wet sucking noise that makes all the hair on Yuuri’s body stand on end. Viktor slaps his ass again before squeezing it. There’s a kiss to Yuuri’s tailbone and a happy sigh before Viktor stands, stretches, and leaves the room.