#jayce x you

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  having a secret enemies to lovers relationship with them 𝆬 𓏸

feat.: Jayce Talis, Vi, Ambessa Medarda, Mel Medarda, Ekko

content: f!reader, nsfw content, mild violence mentions

notes: this was commissioned by the most lovely @angelltheninth !! thank you so much again!! 💜

Honestly, JAYCE refuses to admit just how much he finds himself drawn to you. You're everything he's not, working in the shadows for Silco while he's Piltover's golden boy, the Man of the Future, and yet there's some odd tension between the two of you that he can't deny. He aches to label it as natural hate, though that couldn't be further from the truth. The catalyst for your eventual growing fondness of each other is when he's got you pinned down, imposing hammer so close to obliterating you and, God, he can't do it. You're his enemy, certainly, and yet he finds himself absentmindedly brushing some dirt off your cheek, touch gentle despite those huge hands.

After that, things go all too fast. One moment you're kissing, you softly moaning into his mouth, the next you try and sneak into the Academy, trying your hardest not to appear suspicious and, well — if you end up making out on one of the tables he usually does science stuff on, who can blame you? It feels all too nice to wrap your legs around his wide waist, pulling him closer while his dick pushes into you, calloused fingers roaming over your skin as if he's desperate to feel as much of you at the same time as somehow possible. It's all too good, until the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by the rhythmic thumping noise of a cane, makes both of you flinch, and you're forced to hide in an empty storage room, still dripping with need.

“Fuck, talk about horrible timing—, quick, in here, in here. God. Hopefully he'll leave real quick again, I'm stil hard; don't you worry, we'll continue just where we left off in but a moment. We just can't get caught.”

There is no word for what VI feels for you other than 'hate'. How could she not? As an Enforcer, you're her complete opposite, you're used to the riches and comfortable life of Piltover and, well, she would've never thought she could ever grow fond of you, but it turns out you look awfully pretty underneath her, pinned to the ground of Zaun. There's mud caked to the side of your face and a stray trail of blood runs down your forehead and, oh — for some reason, you don't do anything but moan softly when she leans down to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, her thick thigh spreading your own apart.

It's adorable how your cheeks flush when she calls you a teasing nickname; it's downright sweet when you whimper and press your body against her own. Your very reactions make you so very human, so very much like her. You're not that different from her at all, it appears, and that realisation itself makes things complicated. Vi swears she despises you, hates you with all her heart, but when she sneaks away to your usual meeting place, the sixth time this week, rough touches having turned into loving embraces along the way, she can't say she's being entirely truthful.

“Hey, sugar! You made it. Fuck, I'm always so happy to see ya, it's ridiculous. My heart's beatin' all fast. Oh—, hey, you're eager today, hm? Wanna continue that badly where we were interrupted last time? Fine by me. You gotta spread those cute legs of yours then, darl.”

It comes as no surprise that a powerful woman such as AMBESSA has quite a lot of enemies. There's all too many people who wish her death or worse for the countries she's conquered or the people she's slayed — and yet you're the only one who has ever caught her eye. It's all too easy to have you brought to her luxurious chambers, and even when you're glaring at her, eyes narrowed with nothing short of hatred, she doesn't care, really. Her fingers come up to grab your chin, keeping your head in place as her gaze rakes over your face, taking every feature of your face in.

You're not sure whether to be enraged or relieved that, apparently, she's satisfied with what she sees, though it's a lot preferable when, minutes later, she seats you on one thick thigh of hers rather than having you beheaded. Really, you couldn't stifle your mewls and moans even if you tried when she grinds said leg up against your already dripping folds. Over time, you grow fond of her — something you hadn't thought possible —; your relationship stays a secret, but your smile at her praise is honest, your laughter joining her boisterous one is not an act at all. She's surprisingly sweet for such a bold woman and, well; the fact that she leaves you unable to walk for a day or two whenever she's between your legs is a pretty convincing factor to stay with her, too.

“Aren't you just the sweetest little one? C'mon, now, no need to be shy. You've been grinding against my thigh like a bitch in heat before, haven't you? Surely you can do it again. Though, if my leg isn't good enough for you, maybe you're just not as desperate to cum as I thought.”

There's always been tension between you and MEL; how could there not be when you were anything she didn't stand for, being her political enemy and everything? Really, the amount of bickering you two did was close to ridiculous, and yet neither of you seemed to mind it all too much. Even though you don't make a pretty picture up on a stage or behind the council roundtable, you look all too ethereal on her bed, legs spread wide and arching your back while slender fingers alternate between gently rubbing and meanly pinching your throbbing clit.

Really, you'd worry about it being all too obvious how often you search up her quarters, though she's quick to distract you with soft kisses and the occasional cruel graze of teeth against your neck. There's no need to worry about anything, truly; when Mel wants your relationship to stay between the two of us, it will remain a secret at all costs.

“My, my. You're quite adorable today, hm? So very needy for my touch, and yet I remember quite clearly how you've challenged me in front of the rest of the Council. Love, it almost looks like you were aching to be punished by me. Is that not the case? I might go easier on you if you at least admit it.”

EKKO despises you. There's no way around it. Ekko despises you and, if needed, fights you with all his might, and yet his expression, Firelight mask long knocked off his face, softens oh so visibly when he, one day, meets you at random, your injuries awfully bad. He's not sure what he's thinking when he takes you in and cares for your wounds, nursing you back to health; you're his enemy, damn it, and he should act like it, but the only explanation he has for how he's acting is that empathy is an all too human trait he can't seem to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries. He can't just leave you in the Undercity to rot.

By the time you're back to full health, you can't deny that, even though you're supposed to be enemies, you've bonded quite a bit. He's funny and loving, protective of you, even; and even though your relationship has to stay secret at all costs, given how he'd otherwise lose credibility with the Firelights and you'd be called a traitor, you both can't help but sneak away at night to see each other, you embracing him in a loving hug and his lips pressing against yours all too eagerly. With Ekko, it takes a while until it gets to making out and getting even more intimate, but that's quite alright. There's no need to rush it; you're both more than happy to lose track of time while cuddling and kissing.

“Would've never thought that, one day, I'd be kissin' someone like you like this. Hey—, in a positive way. Don't get me wrong on purpose. Y'know I love everything about you. Yeah? Good. It's almost sunrise, though. 'm afraid you'll have to go back soon.”

tags: @vislovelywife @Mamanaga @vaemadz @cicada-teeth @jinxsslut @silcosnumber1 @coochie-intervention @inertiacreams @shinwifexx @rhaeena @bumbookitten @greeniegreengreen @my-awakened-ghost @afidiofobia @helloyellowsheeps @yuuotosaka3 @sccarymonster @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @artsyxabbyx @ cyan-skulls @arboranimus @marina-and-the-memes @holysmokesblog @twilightdollie @kaaylvst @definitely-not-v @innerstrawberrypolice @misty-q @perylinsus @pleasemakeitgayer @imaginesbymk @meimayooo @doxmino @smolbeandrabbles @darknessbyme @darthkenobii @mars738 @cupcakkesinflatedwetbussy @illicittete @lemzhargreeves @festivalthrash

@savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @user4837 @Nervousartisanheart @mikariell95 @mechmoucha

@silcobrainrot @Medeaa5 @nocturnal-onlooker @modernamilf @catsaiem @t0r @beyondblissxoxo @zillahvathek @brainrottingrn @klaudia7 @okura-s

@666abby6666 @ironnieincarn8 @watercolourdreams @scturne19 @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @cowboykiri @soullessbody @thottywizard @celebrity-crushes27 @ygrworld @sevikasslvtt @chaoticevilbakugo @trashbod @MiloMalaise @berywritesstuff @alice0blog @gooseberries88 @s1t1n0ny0url4p @black-rose-29

[mistiell]

Arcane Masterlist

Angst - 🖤

Fluff - 💜

Smut - ❤️‍🔥

Viktor

Headcanons

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Random Viktor x Reader Relationship Headcanons

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜❤️‍🔥More Viktor Headcanons

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜Drunk Viktor Headcanons

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜Viktor x Reader who Loves his Accent and Hands

💜Viktor and Jayce x TransMasc! Reader

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Viktor with and S/O with Joint Problems

💜Viktor with an S/O with Asthma

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Viktor x Fem! Councillor! Reader

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

🖤💜Viktor with and S/O Struggling with Depression

💜Viktor and Jayce with an S/O that Struggles with sleep

Fics

❤️‍🔥Mornings like This - Viktor x Fem! Reader (Cringe warning, this was literally the very first smut fic I had ever posted)

🖤💜Emotions are Great, aren’t They? - Viktor x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Viktor have been Dancing around each other’s feelings for years, both convinced the other doesn’t feel the same way. When Sky enters the picture, clearly head over heels for the man, you can’t help but feel jealous. Viktor notices and finally decides to take matters into his own hands.

Shitposts/Textposts

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said

Arcane Memes

Marshmallow Shenanigans

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said Pt.2

Sleep Deprivation is Wack

Jayce

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

💜Sleepy Jayce Headcanons

💜Prince! Jayce x Royal! Reader (kinda angsty if you squint)

💜Jayce with an Affectionate S/O

Fics

💜Flustered - Jayce x GN! Reader

💜Comfort - Jayce x GN! Reader

💜A less than Romantic Proposal - Jayce x GN! Reader

Shitposts/Textposts

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said

Arcane Memes

Marshmallow Shenanigans

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said Pt.2

Sleep Deprivation is Wack

Silco

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

Shitposts/Textposts

Ew, Affection

Vi

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

Fics

💜Piltover Parties - Vi x Fem! Reader

Shitposts/Textposts

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said

Arcane Memes

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said Pt.2

Jinx

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

Fics

💜Jinx x GN! Reader

Summary: Jinx asks you to braid her hair because you’re the only of that does it right.

Shitposts/Textposts

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said

Arcane Memes

Arcane Characters as Shit my Friends and I have said Pt.2

Mel

💜Mel x Artist! Reader (sort of angsty if you squint)

💜Dates Arcane Characters would like to Go on

💜Nicknames Arcane Characters would Call You

💜Quirks Arcane Characters Have

💜How to (Lovingly) Annoy your Arcane S/O

💜How your Arcane S/O (Lovingly) Annoys you

💜Quirks Arcane Characters have pt.2

💜Rating Arcane Characters based on how Easy it would be to Sleep with Them

💜Would Arcane Characters Throw Hands and Why?

💜How Arcane Characters would take Care of You while You’re Sick

💜 Arcane Characters React to you Wearing their Clothes

💜Your Arcane S/O’s Favourite part of your Body

💜How Arcane Characters Flirt

💜Arcane characters with and S/O that get Angry Easily

💜Arcane Characters with an S/O who likes to give Forehead/Hand Kisses

💜Arcane Characters Cuddling With an Awkward S/O

💜How Arcane Characters would Dance with You

💜Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting you

💜Who would be the Prankster in the Relationship

💜Arcane Characters in a Zombie Apocolypse

💜What Genre of Films would Arcane Characters watch

Shitposts/Textposts

Arcane Memes

[angelltheninth]

Little Distractions Make Miracles

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, teasing, late night work, co-workers, kissing, straddling, neck kissing, slight muscle kink

Word count: 0.5k

A/N: Its a real shame there's so little content for Jayce.

It was already a miracle that Jayce managed to convince Viktor to go home early, his friend looked beyond tired today, and with right reason, both he and Jayce have been working day in and day out trying to come out with a way to make Hextech safer for the general public, as it was still deemed too dangerous by many.

Jayce stared at that board, then at his papers, knowing the answers were close, and yet out of reach.

"You're banging your head against your hands again." You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind, using him to support yourself. You'd see that same look on both him and Viktor a lot in the past few days and you knew what it meant. It meant that Jayce's brain was no longer working, "Jayce, you need to go home and sleep. If you keep frowning like that you're gonna age yourself."

"I thought you said you were gonna love me even when I'm old and wrinkled." Jayce took your hand and turned his head to kiss your fingers.

"Yeah, but I figured that we're gonna get to that point together." As you moved to face him you closed the book he was holding his papers in, electing a sound of protect from your husband. "Do you really wanna spend the rest of your days looking at papers and equations when you could be looking at me?" You leaned in, lips grazing against the collar of his coat, your fingers pulling the tie apart as you melted on top of him. Jayce let his head fall back, giving you more room to kiss.

The more you kissed him the more his hands went up your dress, to the zipped and pulled it down, your back now naked for him to explore and caress, "You're distracting me babe. How am I gonna have a break through with you in my lap?"

"The same way you had it when I was sucking you off." You chuckled as you rolled against him, already starting to feel your teasing take effect.

"You always tease me about that but you seemed pretty happy too. However," Jayce pushed on your shoulders, "I'm trying to keep the lab separate from out sex life. Otherwise I'll be in here, constantly reminded of how much sex we had, and I can't give Viktor any more material to make fun of me."

"So you admit you think about that moment a lot." The grin on your face was the smuggest you've ever had.

"Of course I do, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know. You haven't eaten me out at work yet." Jayce bit his lower lip, his arms wrapping around you, muscles bulging and straining under his clothes. How many times have you left your marks on his back, his abs, bitten into his forearm while you were in the thorns of pleasure and ecstasy together? "I know its on your bucket list Jayce."

He mumbled a quick 'fuck' against your neck, almost folding and pushing his research aside and you on the desk instead. "We're going home. Now."

Point for you. Teasing to this extent might be a little too much but it did get his pretty ass back home and into the bed and... eventually to sleep. Which was your goal. No other motive whatsoever.

[littlebeesart]

"I was hoping you might like it." The way Jayce's eyes seem ready to pop out his head feels encouraging.

Snippet from @roguequartz 's fic: Fortunate Fools, please give it a read!💛 It's so beautiful written🤌

[thedreamlessnights]

No more keeping score

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader || NSFW || Word Count: 5.3k

Synopsis: Jayce lost in the Undercity (gone wrong) (gone sexual) AKA Jayce stumbles into a brothel.

Warnings: General NSFW content, mentions of prostitution and brothels, mutual masturbation, some dirty talk, a brief blowjob, multiple orgasms, reader riding Jayce, catching feelings, sad ending.

The room is a fiery form of frigid tonight, and, as usual, your clothes are doing nothing to shield you. 

You’d told Maris over and over to get the roofing fixed, because what started as drafty was now dangerous - cold enough to kill, in the right conditions. 

Bad for business if someone died, you’d said. Better to fix it now.

She’d brushed you off, of course, waving withered fingers at you, red polish chipping off at the edges. 

“The rooms are warm. If you want heat, get a client.”

If only it were that easy. Besides, the rooms were barely warmer than the main room, and the approaching winter was making that fact more and more noticeable.

Not that it mattered to Maris. No amount of nagging, begging, or pleading had swayed her. She’d simply told you to get to work, or else, and not to bother her again.

When weeks passed and snow had started falling in through the various holes in the ceiling, she’d finally taken to fixing the roof herself - her skeletal form swaying on a rickety ladder as various curses rained down on the brothel. 

You’d been so sure she’d fall at the time - so hopeful. Unfortunately, the old hag seemed to have superhuman levels of balance. Three hours later, she’d emerged alive and angry as a cat in a bath; red lips uncharacteristically smeared, hair the uninviting shade of rotten hay plastered to her forehead. 

Now? The snow is gone, but the chill remains. Maris won’t be swayed to have someone else fix the roof. And of course, no one has looked at you all night. 

Not that you can blame any of them - after all, who wants a teeth-chattering whore? 

The other workers, curse them, seem to have built superhuman cold protection. They don’t shiver. They don’t complain. They flutter their eyelashes when people walk past, a casual smugness fixing to their lips when chosen. Well, screw ‘em. You’re not in the mood for sex anyhow. 

Or at least, you aren’t until you see him walk in. 

Tall. Good-looking - the kind of guy you’d expect to see on posters around the city. You don’t recognize his face, though. You’re sure of that because this face is one you’d remember. As the man looks around, you take some time getting acquainted with the features.

Honeyed green eyes, shining bright even in the sick yellow lighting of the room. Shimmering snowflakes caught in his hair - soft, black hair with a sharp widow’s peak, buzzed down near the neck. Clean-shaven, but a five o’clock shadow is present on his jaw.

Then there’s a scar on his right brow. An endearing gap between his teeth, visible when he nervously grins at one of the other customers. Strong, polite posture. 

You want him so much that you can barely think. You don’t feel the cold anymore and you don’t even know his name.

Whoever he is, he’s lost. Judging by his expression, he hadn’t known what this building was, either. His eyes widen at a couple in the corner before his gaze turns to his shoes, then helplessly, pleadingly lifts to a few of the other workers. 

Written in his expression is a clear, single word. 

Help.

By Janna’s grace, no one notices him. No one but you.

You’re at his side before anyone else can see him, heart pounding in your chest. Cold be damned, if he’s going to end up in any bed, you’re determined that it’ll be yours. Besides, he looks like he could warm you up.

It takes you a moment to decide how to appeal to him. Mysterious? Sensual? Touchy? And when you run your fingers up his arm and he flushes, you find your answer. 

To your utmost delight, he’s practically radiating heat. Your personal furnace for the night, if he’ll have you. Time to turn on the charm.

“You look lost,” you hum pityingly, gently squeezing at his bicep. “Need some help?”

His eyes dart to you for a moment, then away as he rubs his neck with his free hand.

“Hi,” he says meekly. “Uh… y-yeah, help would be great.”

You flash him a smile.

“What can I do for you?”

He hesitates for a moment, lips parted, then shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know this was - I was just…. I was looking for the bridge. Back to Piltover? Somehow I got mixed up, and it got dark and - and I went to the first place I saw open.”

“Piltover?” Surprise hits you strong enough to crack the sweetness of your tone. “You want to go back to Piltover? At this hour, in this temperature?”

Seeing his expression, you quickly catch yourself - moving your hand to his back and flashing an apologetic smile. 

“I… I hate to say this,” you continue, a little gentler, “but you’ll arrive frozen or in pieces. Maybe both.”

He slumps for just a moment, burying his face in his hand.

“Look,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I just… I just want to get out of here. I know I should’ve been more careful. I know that. But I don’t have anywhere else to go, and it’s late. Fuck, I just… need to get home.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re actually pleased to hear that.

Most Pilties are too stubborn to realize they’re not untouchable; that the Undercity could hurt them just as much as it might hurt anyone else. 

Too caught up in their own lives to ever hold themselves comparable with the muck of Zaun, yet amply willing to use it in the moments where it benefits them. Too full of themselves to know what might happen to them until it’s too late. 

Those same people would have marched out into the night regardless of what you’d told them. People that would soon end up dead.

This one is smart. Maybe not street smart, but not stupid enough to think he’s blessing people with his presence. And you like that. 

You study him a moment longer, noting the trembling in his hand. Then you drop your arm and the rest of your act. 

“Okay,” you say gently, giving him some space. “I get it, you just want to go home.”

Your words seem to relax him, but you can tell he’s still a little wary.

“So… are you going to help me?” he asks.

Giving a shake of your head, you gesture towards the window. Toward the blistering winds and the swirling snow.

“I wasn’t kidding about arriving in pieces,” you tell him. “The Undercity is a dangerous place, and it’s much worse at night - especially in this weather. If the frost doesn’t get you, something else will.” 

When he closes his eyes, giving a deep sigh, you cautiously lay a hand on his arm again - a reassuring movement, this time.

“I’d love to help you,” you say, “and I will, tomorrow morning - but you should at least stay here for the night. Use one of the rooms. No charge.”

He quirks an eyebrow. 

“No charge?” With a shake of his head, he pulls away from your touch. “I may be from Piltover, but even I know there’s always a cost,” he says, wary. “What’s the catch?”

You give a light shrug, trying once again to ignore how cold it is. 

“Well… it would be my room. Is that alright?”

He immediately flushes down to his collar, hesitating for a moment before he’s able to put his words together.

“Uh, I don’t - I,” he stammers. “You’re - you’re really pretty, and - it’s not that I don’t want to - it’s just, I don’t think I’m what you want. I’ve never -”

He quickly cuts himself off, somehow blushing even more, then clears his throat.

“Is it really that bad out there?” he asks.

Your expression solemns. 

“Tell me your name,” you request.

“What?”

“Your name. What is it?”

He stalls, but apparently can’t find a good enough reason not to tell you.

“Jayce,” he says. “Jayce Talis.”

Finally. A name to put to the handsome face.

“Listen, Jayce,” you say, “I get it. It sucks to stay for the night in a place you don’t know. But so many people from this city haven’t come back on nights like this. Much less a visitor.” 

With a sigh, you shake your head, hands fiddling with the soft fabric of your clothes before shutting into loose fists.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you want an empty room, it’s yours. Or you could stay with me. I’d make it worth your time. I promise.”

“I already told you,” he says, softer this time. “I’m - I’m not what you want.”

“What makes you think that?”

When he doesn’t answer, you try again.

“Do you want it?”

“I - yes, but -”

“Well then. Do you think I don’t know how to read people in this job, Jayce?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest. “Or that I don’t know what I’m getting myself into? I’ve had you pinned from the moment you walked in, pretty boy. Shall I take a guess? You’ve never been with anyone. You want something… intimate. Something gentle.”

You pause for a moment, taking a step closer, leaving him room to step away if he wants. 

He doesn’t. His pupils are blown wide, his hands are clenched, and his breathing is strained. Seeing him like this makes you want to do unspeakable things, but you keep your cool if only at the risk of scaring him off.

“I know a part of you wants to go into that room with me,” you continue. I know you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes off me. Convinced I know what I want now?”

Jayce shuts down for a moment, stuttering and laughing a little and taking in a breath, all while avoiding your gaze.

Ever so gently, you take his hand, trailing your fingers up his palm before you lean up on your tiptoes to his ear.

“Let me take care of you, Jayce,” you whisper. “I’ll make it good for you.”

When you cradle his cheek, he leans into your touch - a fact that only makes you want him more. He’s so damn desperate, and at this point, you’re nearly there with him.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”

You lace your hand into his, and he follows. 

Into the empty room, where he can stay if he wants to - a room he barely looks at. Into the building behind the brothel where you live, immediately shivering in the ten seconds of chill. And then, into your bedroom. His grip tightens when his eyes focus on the bed. 

“You still want to do this?” you confirm, turning to face him. He’s close here, breath warm on your cheek, scented of wood and vanilla and a musky, sweet spice that lingers underneath.  

Then your hand rests gently against his chest. Underneath it sits Jayce’s heart, fluttering like a bird under your touch. Eyes dilated wide, almost black.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I want it.”

Intimate, you’d said. With real intimacy, your experience is rare, but you know enough to start. You know that with intimacy comes vulnerability, but also familiarity. A familiarity you have yet to achieve with him - not yet, at least. 

“Can I touch you?” you ask. “Get some of these clothes off you?”

When he nods, you spend some time like that, slowly unbuttoning his vest, trailing fingers up his clavicle, pulling him down to the bed with his now undone tie.

Growing familiar with him in the way you know how.

It’s clear he similarly wants to touch you, but all he does is shift - hands uncertain, hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them. You remedy that by bringing them around your waist, noting how his eyes widen as you lean in.

Your breath warm against his cheek, Jayce’s breath hitches, his gaze going half-lidded as you straddle his thigh.

“What do you want?” you murmur. 

“Kiss me,” he requests, sliding his hands up to your waist, settling at your ribs.

His lips are soft against yours when you close the distance, warm and gentle. It’s a sweet, over-eager kiss that soon deepens, his hands moving up to cradle both sides of your jaw before they trail down, unsure, and land on your hips again. Those hands, huge and warm, apply the lightest pressure when the kiss opens up, and it piques your curiosity.

When your hand fixes into his hair and lightly tugs, he lets out a soft groan into your mouth and fully squeezes - a motion and sound that have you reeling yourself in before you go too far.

If you had more time with him - more guarantees than just tonight, you’d stay there for hours, milking sounds out of him. Learning what drives him crazy; what makes him desperate. But you don’t have that time. You only have suspicions, and you confirm one of them by biting on his ear.

It’s only a soft nibble at the lobe, but with the way he shivers, you’d think you were doing something much more involved.

“I want to learn what you like, Jayce,” you hum, pressing soft kisses down his neck. When you pull away, he’s flushed down to the collar, half-hard in his trousers already.

“What I like?” he asks breathlessly.

“What you think about when you touch yourself,” you clarify. “What you picture. Do you think of someone? Something in particular?”

He laughs a little, nervously, shifting under you. The friction of his thigh moving beneath where you’re sitting, well… does things to you. You nearly lose yourself for a moment, tempted to grind against him. Your resolve holds, but it’s significantly weakened.

“I… yeah,” he says, gripping your hips tighter again. “I mean - I’m with someone. Um. But not anyone specific, just… someone. They never have a face.”

“Yeah?” you ask. 

Your voice is winded. Hopefully, Jayce won’t notice - especially if you’re distracting him. Shaky fingers find his shirt, and your lips return to his jaw

“And when you picture them, what are they doing?” you press.

You’ve started to pull his shirt off, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin of his inner elbow. His whole body twitches, then he swallows hard.

“They’re, ah - k-kissing me,” he answers, sounding similarly short-winded.

It’s not typical for you to get affected by other people being turned on. After all these years, you shouldn’t be this wet over Jayce’s reactions to your movements, the way he shivers under your touch, or the way he stutters. This is nowhere near typical, and you’re very, very affected. 

After all, this is your room, your space - not a part of your profession, but a part of you. Jayce is reacting to your words, not the distant, memorized lines Maris had fed you to spiel time and time again. He’s in your bed. This is real. 

With realness, comes the heat you’d almost forgotten about. It sits in your pelvis, spreads through your core. Makes the slowness agonizing, but all the more appealing.

“Kissing you where?” you manage.

Jayce huffs, squirming a little, but not against your touch. Almost into it. 

“My… lips. My neck.”

“And? What else do they do?” 

The soft red flush against Jayce’s cheeks suits him. It draws out the golden hue in his eyes, making them shine a little brighter. You wonder what other hidden expressions compliment him. You’d very much like to find out.

He takes in a sigh, words soft and tentative as he speaks.

“I think about, uh - the person I’m with. They’re… going down on me. Touching me. Or… I’m inside them.”

He flushes deeper, his gaze darting toward your nightstand. 

“Do they say anything to you when that’s happening?”

The laugh Jayce lets out is nervous - breathy and light.

“They. They tell me I’m… fuck.” He tilts his head back onto the headboard, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know. All kinds of things. What would you say?”

Oh. A misdirection to avoid answering, but you’re happy to take that route.

“Depends on the situation.”

You slide a little closer, nosing against his skin. 

“If I was sucking you off?” you drawl, walking your fingers up his chest. “I’d probably tell you that you’re really fucking big in my mouth.”

Judging by the growing bulge in his pants, it doesn’t seem like that would be a lie. Jayce swallows hard, eyes still shut tight.

“Then… I’d tell you to finish in my mouth. That I want to taste you.”

“Fuck,” Jayce whispers. 

“Do you want that?” you murmur. “My mouth on you?”

Jayce finally opens his eyes, lips parted.

“I, uh. Yes. And no?” he says, his gaze trailing over your mouth. “I want - I want to know what you like, first. What things you think about.”

“Well,” you say, settling down further onto his thigh. “If I were touching myself tonight, I’d think about you.”

He raises his brows.

“Yeah.” 

Your voice is a murmur against his ear, your hands gentle up his shoulders. 

“You,” you continue, your voice a smooth purr. “What you’d look like, getting yourself off. The noises you might make. If you’d wish your hand was mine.”

He makes a quiet, strangled sound. 

“Would you?” you ask. “Would you wish it was me?”

“Yes,” he chokes out. “I’d - I’d wish it was you.”

“Show me, then,” you request, tucking a strand of hair away from his forehead. “What that’d look like. I want to know how you look when you want me.”

Jayce gapes at you. Then, slowly, he recovers, eventually flashing a grin. That damned gap in his teeth. It shoots warmth into you.

“You could take a look at that any time,” he jokes, his hands falling to his trousers, tugging at the buttons. “I sure as hell want you right now.”

That almost breaks you. The sight of him hard in his underwear distracts you just enough. 

“Can - can I take off your shirt, first?” he asks. “I want to see you. It’d be added material for me… wanting you.”

“Go ahead.”

You almost tell him to rip it off, but his hands are still shaking, and that might be a bit too far. The strings of your shirt are pulled away first, and then your shirt comes up over your head. No bra, of course. You wouldn’t need one.

It takes Jayce off guard, though. 

“Fuck,” he says. One of his hands slides up your ribs, flush with the bare skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Enough material for you?” 

With a tilt of your head, you mirror his movements. A hand up his chest. Settling at the ribs.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “More than enough.”

You have to move from his leg for him to get his pants off, which you have to admit you’re grateful for. You may pull a tough act, but Jayce is damn good at breaking it. If you’d stayed there long enough, you don’t doubt that he’d have physical evidence of that fact sooner or later.

When he’s stripped down to his boxers, you simply sit next to him, eager as he slowly removes those, too. And you’d been right. He’s big. 

His cock, maroon-flushed at the tip, is already dripping for you - a thick pearl of precum at the top. You’re tempted to swipe it away, but your hands only rest at his knee, applying a little pressure as Jayce thumbs over it then begins stroking himself almost entirely dry.

“Oh,” you say, turning toward your dresser. “Here.”

He takes the bottle of lube from you a little too eagerly - spreading it on his fingers and letting out a soft sigh when he touches himself again. 

Hesitant. Slow. Shivering when he strokes the right spot. Checking every few seconds to see if you’re watching. You are. Embarrassment and anxiety are slowly replaced by something else - something hungry behind his eyes as he holds your gaze.

Something you want to see more of.

He shudders when you start rubbing circles up his thigh. Bites his lip when you grab one of your tits, stroking a circle around a nipple until it hardens. 

That seems to give him a little more confidence. Or it makes him so horny that he doesn’t care anymore. Either way, his grip tightens on himself and he lets out a sharp, quick moan that has you leaning toward him to nip at his ear.

“F-fuck,” he breathes. Then he groans again, hips canting upward, toward his hand. “I wish it were your mouth.”

If self-restraint is a cliff, you’re teetering over the edge. One foot is placed at the ready. Waiting to jump.

But instead of moving to him, you move to yourself - shoving off your final layer of clothes as fast as you can. And Jayce - seemingly past the point of shame - watches the entire time. 

When your hand moves between your legs, he shivers. Then he shuts his eyes - almost as if he’s overwhelmed. His diaphragm heaves and his pace quickens and, with his other hand, he grips the sheets.

It’s only a moment later that he opens his eyes to see if you’re still touching yourself. You are, of course - your pace is getting you closer by the second.

“Holy fuck,” he says. 

It’s broken, soft, almost in disbelief. It’s like he’s debating himself on whether to keep going or to stop and touch you. Really, you’d take either of those options.

“I - I wish it were you,” he repeats, gritting the words out from between clenched teeth. “Fuck. Wanna - wanna be inside you.”

Another step toward your metaphorical cliff, and frankly, toward your climax. You let out a soft, wanting moan and grip his thigh with your free hand, squeezing at the warm, glistening skin. 

“Close,” he manages, “I’m close.”

That does it. Fuck the cliff. You’re grasping at his hand and pulling him away from himself, watching as he shudders and pants, brows pinched together.

“Still want my mouth on you?” you question. “I still want to know how you’d taste.”

“Yes, fuck, please.”

Salty is your answer. Not exactly uncommon, but there’s a subtle sweetness to it that has you wanting more. And those noises he’s making? Practically addictive. You can’t stop wanting to draw more of them out of him. 

He’s leaking when you run your tongue up a vein, whimpering as you suck against his tip, groaning when you run your tongue over his frenulum. He cants his hips just slightly up - once, twice, and then his hand is in your hair and he’s cumming in your mouth.

He lets out a single, “Oh, fuck,” and then he’s shaking and groaning.

In response, you let out a small moan, letting him spill onto your tongue - salty and sweet and thick - until he’s finished.

When he’s finally done, he lets out a soft laugh, grinning down at you.

“Wow,” he says. “That was. Wow.”

And he leans back, head resting against the headboard again.

You make yourself busy by moving your mouth to his balls, not wanting to stop just yet. You’re still throbbing, and that heat has not quite faded enough to sit still. He twitches at your movement, whining as you tongue over the soft sensitive skin.

You’re mostly waiting for him to get soft, but he doesn’t. He stays hard and warm and, after a moment, he starts leaking again.

“Jayce?” you ask, using your fingers to replace what your mouth has just been doing. “Can you cum again?”

“Yeah,” Jayce replies. “I can uh, usually go for two. Maybe more.”

Holy fuck.

Kissing up the softness of his stomach, you trail your lips up his sternum then move up his neck, over his jaw, and to his mouth.

Jayce immediately fists a hand in your hair, eager, tongue molding against yours. 

When you pull away, you start stroking him again - gentle, barely-there movements that have him shivering.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

“Please,” he says immediately.

You’ve never reached for a condom faster. It takes you no time at all to grab one from your bedside, open it, and slide it onto him. 

Propping your hands on his shoulders, you straddle him, reaching down with one hand to secure him underneath you. He lets out a soft whimper but says nothing else. Then you’re sinking down on his cock, so wet that you’re surprised he’s not mentioned it. Maybe he’s preoccupied with his moaning. After all, you’ve started grinding down on him. 

To give Jayce credit, he’s a fast learner. He places a hand on your thigh and moves his hips with you, stretching you open as he hisses out various curses with the movement. And once you’ve found that rhythm, it’s good, it’s really fucking good - it’s just that something is missing, and it’s nudging at you like a bad itch. Your mind won’t shut down enough to ignore it. 

Especially as his hand snakes further up your thigh and grips, digging into your ass. When you intentionally slow down, he follows. Seems to study you. Then his other hand, which had been set on your waist, albeit hesitantly, moves exactly where you want it to.

“Here?” he asks. 

His thumb is pressed soft to your clit, rubbing gentle circles around the sensitive skin. He’s still inside you, stretching you, thick, fucking perfect and sweet and maybe the most handsome man you’ve ever met, and if Maris could see you, she’d probably fire you, because all you can do in response is moan.

“Yeah?” Jayce encourages. “You like that, baby?”

And, as much as you may detest that pet name, it’s surprisingly endearing coming from him. Maybe because it’s genuine. Maybe because he’s rubbing your clit and rolling his hips up into you, and - 

Fuck. 

“I’m close,” you murmur. “R-Really fucking close, Jayce.”

“Me too,” he pants. 

Then he kisses you. It’s a light peck placed almost sloppily to your lips, but you don’t think twice before pulling him in for another one, rolling up and down on him as heat spreads through you like a wildfire, roaring up to consume you until the only thing you can think of is his name.

“Jayce,” you breathe, the word muted against his lips.

Then you lose all ability to speak.

Pleasure hits you in white-hot, ambrosial flashes that only break for brief moments. You know that Jayce cums with you, gripping your hips so tight that you hope it’ll bruise. You know that you’re being loud enough that everyone tomorrow will talk. You know that you really don’t fucking care about anything else in this building but the two of you, right here, right now.

And you know that, after it’s done, you sigh and rest your head against his chest, heart beating like a drum. He wraps his arms around you like a cocoon, sighing contently and tucking his chin over the top of your head.

Eventually, he softens inside you. His breathing evens out, and yours does too. You don’t want to move. You don’t want to think. Because, despite all the times you’ve been warned, you’ve just broken the cardinal rule of your profession: don’t catch feelings.

You’d like to pretend you don’t care about him, but that’s deluding yourself. You do. You want him to get home safe tomorrow. You want to see that grin again. You want him to call you more stupid pet names and continue to actually care about you, not just use you like everyone else.

Essentially, you’re fucked: both physically and metaphorically. You almost protest when he shifts, pulling himself out of you and settling beside your bed. Telling him not to almost seems worse, though. Then you muster the effort to clean the two of you up and change your sheets.

As you lay down, Jayce looks at you like he doesn’t know where to go, hesitant as he sits next to you.

“Come here,” you instruct. “Hold me.”

And he does. He settles on the bed, lays behind you, and tucks the two of you into the blanket. His arms wrap around you again, keeping you warm as he closes his eyes. Apparently, sex is also somnific for him, because he knocks out immediately. He snores a little, but it’s soft enough that it doesn’t even bother you. 

He’s not even gone yet, and you’re already missing him.

By the time you fall asleep, the sun is peeking through the curtains. The light seems much greyer than usual. It must be dark clouds and sludge out there and it’s only making you dread leaving even more. If only you had a little more time.

Once you’ve shut your eyes, it seems only seconds later that Jayce wakes, drawing you from your nap immediately. He presses a soft kiss to your neck, smooths your hair from your face, then gets up to dress.

You watch him pull on his clothes - wrinkled trousers and half-hazard buttoning. Wild hair that he attempts to smooth on his head. It makes your chest ache. You try to memorize every part of him for safekeeping, but your brain can only remember so much.

If you only had a little more time.

Not that you could ever fully have him, but you’d be happy with just one more day. One more day you won’t get. If only you could keep your mind off dangerous what if’s. They’re always a bad idea, but similarly so enticing. 

Eventually, you can’t delay leaving any longer. Both of you know it’s time to go.

The two of you walk to the bridge in silence, though you can tell Jayce wants to speak. He keeps opening his mouth to say something, then closes it, shaking his fist at himself - a small movement that he doesn’t think you’ll see.

And what can you do? Ask him to come to visit you in the brothel? Ask him to put himself in danger to see you? Suggest writing letters? They all feel incredibly flat in your mind. Empty. Who knows how far the Undercity is from his home. Who knows what his friends and family would think of you. Nothing good.

But when you get to the bridge, Jayce pulls you in for a kiss, holding your hand in his. Then he presses his forehead to yours.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you tell him. Underneath that are a thousand other things you wish you could say, but you can’t. It’d only hurt you more.

“Right,” Jayce says, because both of you know that’s a leap. He’d only made it into the brothel by accident, and you can’t exactly stop working.

“Thank you,” he eventually adds, squeezing your hand before stepping away and letting go. “Uh, for your help. Showing me here and… for last night. I’m glad it was with you.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur, drawing your hands up to cradle your arms at the loss of his warmth.

He gives you a nod, swallows hard, and exits down the bridge.

Tall silhouette, strong posture. It fades away into the distance faster than you’d expect. In its absence, it leaves an emptiness like nothing you’ve ever experienced. One that seems to suck all the color out of the world. 

For a brief, foolish moment in time, you stand there wondering if he’ll turn back. Maybe he’ll come back, and everything will seem right.

Ten minutes you stay like that, arms drawn around yourself. He never comes back, though. Of course he doesn’t.

The next time you see Jayce is three years later. His face is on a poster, washed out from the rain, but still recognizable. 

Man of Progress, it reads. 

You have to wonder if he even remembers you.

[mischievous-piltovan]

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[cinewhore]

Envy

Pairing: Mel Medarda x fem!reader x Jayce

Rating: Explicit 

warnings: heavy smut. penetration, fingering, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, cumshot, 

Summary: you enjoy a morning in bed with your lover and her paramour. 

A/N: a repost. forgot how much I loved this one. credit to the gif makers. 

The sounds of Piltover hum at low frequency as you slumber. The city of progress, they call it. It was the bane of your existence and the source of all of your headaches. The only thing that kept you here was laying right beside you, providing you with enough warmth and comfort you were afraid that you would burst.

Except it wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

Mel.

You were reluctant to accept the position of an advisor to a member of the council but as soon as Mel stepped into view, you accepted the job and whatever else came with it. As time drew on, you learned that being an advisor was not as important to Mel, she needed a friend. You became her confidant, shoulder to cry on, her shadow. And you loved it.

The spot where she lay was ruffled, small indents of her footprints still molded into the sheets. Jayce was still sleeping on the far edge of the bed, body radiating heat like an inferno. You weren’t particularly fond of the man but he grew on you. Mel still likes to tease you about it.

“You taste like him again.” you sigh, straightening Mel’s dress after you popped your head out from underneath.

“Jealousy doesn't suit you.” Mel smirks, closing her eyes briefly as you peck her lips.

“Really? I think the color green looks rather dashing on me.”

Mel rolls her eyes, the role of the politician coming into play. “He’s a great asset and… I really like him.”

You shrug, not wanting to be bothered with the feelings Mel had with someone who nearly leveled an entire street. “Are you sure this is the type of project you want to be focusing on? He could be dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous, he’s passionate.”

And passionate he was.

You creep out of the bed and tiptoe towards Mel’s studio, finding her observing the large canvas in front of her. It was slowly starting to take shape, remnants of her home life seeping out.

“Mel?”

She doesn’t turn as you call out her name and instead tilts her head at an angle to further inspect her work.

“You should come back to bed darling.” you mutter, rubbing at your eyes. The day was filled with meetings and appointments. She couldn’t afford to miss them and you didn't have enough energy to cover for her at the moment.

Enveloping your arms around her waist, tensions roll off of your shoulders as Mel relaxes in your hold. You lean your head in the junction of her neck, taking the time to breath her in. She always smelled of lavender and citrus, a scent that would grace your senses and create a home there. Her own hands find yours, intertwining them.

“You’re not like her, you know.” you whisper, gazing back up at the canvas.

You knew these moments all too well, the late hours in the night where Mel refused to sleep. She was thinking of home, the anxious feeling of not belonging creating a turmoil inside of her. Mel knows war and she knows what people will sacrifice to make sure they are on the righteous side. She just didn’t know she would be the one being sacrificed.

You had never met Mel’s mother but if she was anything like how Mel describes her, you knew you’d have her heart in your hands the second she stepped foot in Piltover. While she galvanted around the world and proclaimed glories of being a warrior, you were left to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair.

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.” Mel responds, a slight waver in her voice. You turn her so that she is facing you, eyes cast downward. Tipping her chin with your fingers, you brush your nose against hers.

“You are the wisest and most caring person I have ever met. You are the heart of the council. Without you, I can’t imagine what this city would look like. Wherever you forget that, I am always here to remind you.”

You pull back to leave little kisses along her jaw, eyelids, nose. “Do you need help going back to sleep, hm?”

Mel chases after your lips, a miniscule frown clouding her features when you deny her. “Please.”

Nodding, you lead Mel back to the bed, making sure she is comfortable before you climb in behind her. All of your motions are purposeful, drawn out and calculated to provide maximum pleasure. Mel did her job during the day, making sure the citizens of Piltover were taken care of and now it was your job to make sure she had adequate care.

“You’re already wet.” you purr, licking tiny stripes along her clit. Mel whimpers, doing her best to follow your tongue. You rub a hand up and down her inner thigh to settle her. “Don’t worry, I will take care of you.” She was never the kind to be patient.

You resume your teasing, sucking gently on her pearl before taking your tongue and entering her warm cunt. Mel throws her head back and gasps loudly, hands clutching whatever was in reach. Her moans and pants vibrated through you, causing you to slip a finger inside of your own pussy to fulfill your desires.

Jayce first believes that the sounds he was currently hearing was coming from his own mind and was rather astonished to find you devouring Mel. The three of you having sex together wasn’t something that occurred frequently but when it does, Jayce has to remind himself constantly that he wasn’t dreaming.

Being an only child, Jayce had a slight difficulty with sharing what was his. He knew, though, the first time he met you and Mel that she would never be completely his. Mel belonged to no one and you had solidified your spot in her life.

“I was here before you came and I’ll be here after you’re long gone.”

That was the first thing you had ever said to Jayce and the one thing that stayed with him all these years later. He didn’t mind sharing Mel with you though, there was enough love and flesh to go around.

“You weren’t going to wake me?” Jayce grumbles, adjusting himself in his briefs.

“You snooze, you lose.” your muffled voice sounds out.

“Is that so? I like to think of it as the early bird getting the worm.”

Jayce crouches over Mel’s squirming figure, digesting her cries as you work your fingers into her attentively. He slides a hand over your ass, pinching at the tender skin. Jayce doesn’t warn you as he stuffs his face into your cheeks, fawning over you and your puckered hole. You break away from Mel for a second, too distracted to continue.

Jayce shifts your legs so that you are on display for him, tugging down his briefs to spring himself free. He grabs his cock tightly, working his shift up and down as he spits onto your pussy. You hated how much you craved his touch, arching back against the tip of his cock and whining when he inserted himself momentarily before withdrawing.

“If you want it, you know what to do.” he coos, guiding your hand to cup his low hanging members. You steer his cock back inside of you, sighing contently at the feeling of Jayce’s thickness stretching you out. You spur yourself until he’s fully entrenched, the wisps of his pubic hair gracing your ass. Jayce’s thrusts are steady, he had all morning to drive into you if he so pleases. This time he just wanted to be in the moment, never in a rush to leave the warmness of your center.

“Fuckin’ sweetest pussy in Piltover.” he hum croons, settling both hands on your hips.

He continues to fuck into you sweetly, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until your legs quivered beneath him. Mel opens her mouth wide, tongue sticking out as Jayce slips his cock around it, gagging her a few times.

You lay on your side, stroking Mel’s hair and toy with her breasts as Jayce comes on both of your faces, leaving a trail down Mel’s stomach. She swipes a finger along a path and tastes it, gathering up more to feed to you.

“You taste like her.” she observes. You smile, enclosing a hand around her throat so that you could bite at her lips.

“Envious, much?”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hi! Thank you for opening a request :D

May I request a Jayce x reader (romantic, preferbly male, but if not that's okay!) where the reader is his security/bodyguard of some sort? And some angst would be interesting, but please do what you feel the most comfortable with!

Thank you so much again and have a great day :]

(Hey, I can do that! But not the angst, you didn't say anything for the angst, just "some angst" and I can't work with just that. Sorry, anyways, Enjoy!)

Jayce x Bodygaurd Male Reader

At first, he didn’t think he needed a bodyguard after Caitlyn suggested it

She bickered at him about it, councilors were higher ups and usually had targets on their backs

A lot of people didn’t like them, she knew from experience with her mom as a councilor

There were the people who liked you

And the people who didn’t

He told her not to worry, that it was all good

But he noticed how she kept worrying after she saw reports of councilors being targeted by some group of goons

So, he finally decided to interview some bodyguards with her, her mom and her father

That’s where you came in

Jayce liked you

It was also a bonus you were a familiar face

You were smart, you knew how to deal with high stress situations, you thought quick on your feet and you knew how to handle yourself

You had quite a few letters of recommendation

You had done quite a few high jobs

One of the letters of recommendation was from Caitlyn’s mom

You at one point, had also been a bodyguard for Caitlyn when she was younger

And let me tell you, you had done a good ass job

Jayce and you back then were sort of friends, not really talking much unless Caitlyn was there for you to watch over her

Until you left to another job of some sorts

So he hired you and some of your friends who were on your team with you as the main one

Nothing ever really happened, you followed him around and made sure he was safe

He got sorta close to you

He liked talking to you since you guys spent so much time together

And one day, first time he actually saw you in action, was when you tackled a guy

The man was coming after Jayce, after he was a new councilor

The man had come to attack him, he had some sort of vendetta against Jayce and the council

Yeah, he’s stuck to you like glue after that

He’s not gonna be hiding behind you though when out somewhere

What he WILL do is be right by your side

Trusts you so freakin’ much

Especially after you guys get together

Thinks its kinda hot how you order people around when he has to attend an event

Feels special because its all for him

He will 100% try and distract you on the job

At an event?

He’s right by you flirting with you as he watches you try not to kill him for his horrible timing

And the boy just WALKS AWAY 

This smug mf

After a while Caitlyn gets assigned to his team randomly

He begged her parents

Caitlyn loves you 

Please don’t get distracted to much on the job though by him

He may be an idiot but he would like to keep his head

And he would love to see you tackle someone for him again

[honeydazai]

since i'm currently busy and still working on a new post, it's a great time to promote my fics!

— Pretty Savage, in which a fight against Scaramouche suddenly turns sexual. 18+, fem!reader, warning for violence and for Scaramouche being a sadistic jerk.

— Birthday Wish, in which Ranpo wants you to wear a maid dress for his birthday. 18+, fem!reader, praise kink, dominant Ranpo.

— Heavenly Principles, in which Fyodor fucks you in public after you let Nikolai choose your Halloween costume. 18+, fem!reader, Fyodor is a jerk and Nikolai watches you fuck, some humiliation

— Lovely, Lovely, in which Viktor feels insecure and you show him just how much you love him. 18+, fem!reader, body worship, pretty fluffy.

— Warm Wisps, in which Viktor forgets about Valentine's Day and makes it up to you through fucking you in a library. Little do you know, however, that you're not as alone as you had thought. 18+, fem!reader, semi public sex

— (almost) like a prayer, in which priest!Jayce fucks a succubus reader in a church and makes her atone for her sins. 18+, fem!reader, religious imagery, breeding, size difference

[mistiell]

Arcane characters (cough cough ....silco ..... and .....viktor ...cough cough please) listening to someone talking bad about you, why are you wearing an outfit that looks nice on you but you don't have the default body for them, please if you feel comfortable writing.

Arcane Characters React to Someone Insulting You

Viktor

- When you walked into the lab to ask him to go for lunch wearing the outfit, he legit had to do a double take

- You’re just?? So gorgeous???

- You guys would be walking through the halls when he overhears a negative comment as you guys pass

- Stops him dead in his tracks

- He looks to you to see if you heard

- and when he sees the look on your face and how you’re curling in on yourself?

-He

- Is

- Livid

- Looks at the person who spoke and goes off

- Roasts the shit out of them

- He uses adjectives you didn’t even know existed

- By the time he finishes, the person looks like their self esteem has been torn to absolute shreds

- Which, like, it kinda has-

- Once you two are a little ways away, he’ll stop to ask if you’re alright and apologize for losing his cool

Jayce

- You’re walking through the park and it’s hot outside

- So, naturally, you’re wearing something suited to the weather that’s also a little snazzier than usual

- And Jayce is absolutely loving it, of course

- Which is why he’s confused for a sec when he hears some asshole make some really outta pocket comment about your appearance

- But after a split second of processing, anger replaces the confusion

- Immediately confronts the person

- Uses his height and big buff stature to intimidate them into apologizing

- Asks if you’re okay and buys you your favourite food to cheer you up

Silco

- God help the poor soul who’s ever caught shit talking you

- You’d be sitting in the last drop, Silco sitting across from you, and somebody just had to say something about the outfit you’re wearing

- They thought they were whispering quietly enough but your dear sweet Silco overhears

- And he is not pleased

- Stands from the table with a quick, “I’ll be right back, my dear.”

- You watch him drag them off to some abandoned back room himself and know that that person is not leaving without a broken bone

- And 20 minutes later, you’re proven right when Sevika drops a now very battered and bruised stranger onto the pavement outside the building

- Silco returns to the table looking a little frazzled but otherwise normal, acting as if nothing happened

- Asks you if you want to talk about what happened when you’re alone later that night

Vi

- Y’all were out running some errands when some jerk off comments on your outfit

- Which she thinks is stunning, btw

- Immediately defensive

Vi: tHE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT MY S/O??? 🤬🤬

- You’re gonna have to hold her back and tell her to chill

- Otherwise, somebody’s gettin’ their ass beat

- Definitely cusses them out

- Once you’ve managed to pull her away, she’ll apologize for causing a scene and compliment you, telling you how stupid that person is

Jinx

- Good god

- If you thought Vi got violent, you’ve got another thing coming with Jinx

- You guys are just hanging out in The Last Drop when somebody insults you as they pass

- Gets up from her seat and immediately tackles the person to the ground

- People around you are like “wtf is happening??” And honestly, you’re just as confused as they are.

- Calls them all sorts of names and forces them to apologize right then and there

- Asks if you’re okay once she lets them go

- Once she’s sure you’re good, she takes you back to her room for cuddles

- Gets Silco to ban the person from The Last Drop as soon as she can

Mel

- Y’all are at a fancy restaurant, enjoying a romantic night together when someone makes an offhanded comment about your outfit

- An outfit she picked out, might I add

- They aren’t even quiet about it either. It’s like they wanted you two to overhear

- She looks them up and down and picks out all of the flaws in their own fashion choices

- as well as the ones in their personality-

- Absolutely wrecks their shit

- Once she’s finished, she returns to her conversation with you and leaves the person in shock and with a severely wounded ego

- Quietly tells you to ignore them and that you’re the most stunning person she’s ever met

[thehistoriangirl]

Testing One’s Love Luck to Win You Over

I... uh, this was supposed to be shorter 😅, but I didn’t know how much I missed to write for the one and only Golden Boy sooo yeah [I promise to write more about you, Jayce, *mwah* <333]

Jayce x fem!Reader-----3.1K-------SFW

Synopsis: With adulthood came different responsibilities. For Jayce, it was enrolling at the Academy and becoming a revolutionary inventor; for you, it was securing your family’s position inside the high-end of Piltover’s more influential and powerful clans. However, Jayce isn’t willing to lose you without playing all his cards.

Tags: Childhood Sweethearts| Arranged Marriage (derogatory)| Light Angst (at the beginning), mostly Fluff (the rest)| Love Confession| Eloping| Happy Ending|

Jayce had always lived two houses away from you ever since you had a memory, so when he moved to the Academic District to one of the Kiramman's ateliers, you felt a strange hole being carved in your chest as you stood on your porch, watching the carriage marked with the keys from the Kiramman family crest riding up the hill.

He promised to visit, and he did. Jayce even invited you to his new atelier, showing you his current projects, and the magnificent view he had of the whole city from his balcony.

You tried to enter the Academy—following the example of the most intelligent person you'd ever met—but of course, you couldn't get in. Your whole life had been drafted for you before you could have a rebuttal in the matter.

Just like your older sister, you've been raised to conquer the spotlight in the soirées held by clans more powerful than your own, charming any potential suitor that could raise your family influence after a marriage deal.

While Jayce spent hours researching engineering and physics in the Academy’s library, you learned different techniques of dance, how to play the piano and to walk while keeping your chin up, without looking at the ground.

Even if you thought you were drifting apart, every time Jayce knocked at your door to invite you to a walk around the fanciest district in Piltover, conversation flew naturally, as if the time had retreated, and you were still the kids that played with marbles on the soft grass in the front yard of his home. You still laughed at Jayce's silly jokes, and he still found your laugh contagious enough to end up both cackling until your bellies hurt.

In those moments, you tried to deny it, but the reality was that no matter how hard you wished, your heart wouldn't stop beating as if it wanted to escape your ribcage.

Good thing that Jayce would only see you once in a while because otherwise, he would pick your lie about how your forehead always felt like it was on fire when he patted your head because you were sick.

You felt guilty when he showed up with ointment his mom recommended to you when having a cold.

But soon enough time run thin, and he graduated and started to spend more time enclosed in the atelier. Jayce wouldn't let you come in when you showed up unannounced, preferring to eat the food you had prepared outside.

Some weeks after it, your parent broke the long-expectedly, but no less frightening, of your engagement.

By that time, you had already identified the pressing sensation residing on your chest—the same you felt when you said goodbye to Jayce every time, but not quite as overwhelming as this time. The pressure, the hollow, was just as when he left for the Academy years ago.

You nodded at your mother, smiling softly as you asked when you were about to meet your future husband. Even if the most visceral part of you wanted to scream until your jaw hurt from opening your mouth too widely, to run away up the hill and slam your fists in Jayce’s atelier.

But what he could do? Not even you were allowed to command the ways your life should develop. Jayce couldn’t help you. Nobody could.

It was funny how time seemed to pass by quicker when your family gave you a date for the wedding; contrary to when Jayce could only come back for the holidays. You were looking at his house, lonely and sad now that his mother spent her time with friends, without her son around.

Each night occurred, and the wedding got closer and closer. Insomnia lets you wander through all your thoughts—even those that you shouldn't suppose to have. If only you were born into another family, would you be happier? Would you don't mind being surrounded by luxuries in exchange for freedom? For love?

You smiled, a sour expression that curled your top lip in disgust. There was pointless to wish for things you couldn’t have.

And yet, Jayce’s image conjured in your mind as you tried to push it away, tucked in the pressure-based door at the back of your mind.

You wished you at least could have him.

*~*~*~*

The smell of the variety of flowers filling the bride's room made you want to throw up. Sunlight flooded the white room, and you felt as if you were blurring with it, becoming a piece of decoration for your almost new husband.

If you weren't on the third floor, you'd probably jump out the window.

Someone knocked at the door, and when you said, tired: “Come in.” You saw another gigantic bouquet, this one decorated with both white jasmines and red carnations. Upon seeing them, you frowned, gesturing with one hand toward the back of the room. “Let them when you can.”

The person closed the door behind him.

“Were you going to tell me you’re getting married?” His voice made you jump, and you saw his serious face from your mirror, accompanied by your widened eyes, mouth agape.

Turning so quickly you almost fell off the stool, you said, in a voice full of so many feelings you got surprised by how all of them bleed out with just one word. "Jayce?” From longing to terror, shame, and confusion. But above all, a sadness so deep your eyes started to itch with trapped tears. “What are you doing here?”

That made him pace angrily around the little space of the room that wasn’t covered with your puffy dress, gifts still unopen, and flower bouquets. His right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I… I don’t know.” He sighed, collapsing over one corner of the bed. “I don’t know what to do.” He hid his face between his palms as you pinched your eyebrows with both confusion and worry.

“Jayce?” You stood up, your hand hovering over his slumped shoulders, afraid that if you touched him, you would crumble. So you only curled your fingers away, nails scrapping the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You had wished for him to look at you all dressed in a wedding gown for him, so he could get all happy and excited while seeing you walking inside the courtroom.

He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I left and in the end, I couldn’t—" he sighed, and he sounded just as tired as your feet. "I wasn't quick enough… I couldn’t become…” Jayce looked at you, between his messy dark hair and deeply saddened eyes. For all those times you thought you’d be capable of drowning in them was just an exaggeration, today he proved you wrong. “Please don’t get married.”

You blinked, a quick sequence of blurring images of Jayce’s gaze locked in yours as your eyes got blurry with tears. “Jayce—”

His hands held your arms at each side of your body, and you saw his Academy uniform wrinkled and covered with oil stains. Even his fingers were covered in a fine black powder that stained the white arm gloves that covered his skin. As you leaned in closer, you took in the smell of paper, coffee, and burned coal. The same essence lingered inside his atelier.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. You felt your lip quiver.

You hugged him, feeling a tug in your chest as you passed one of your hands through his hair. He leaned into your gentle touch, eyelids fluttering when he closed his eyes. The words got stuck in your throat, and so they got out in an almost inaudible whisper. "I need to get married, Jayce."

He opened his eyes, and his gaze burned into your chest, where your heart was beating madly, so loud it must be the reason why you didn’t pick up his words correctly.

“Then marry me.”

The gasp that got out of your lips felt as if someone had punched you in the chest. "What?”

His cheeks were deep red, and they felt hot when you cradled his cheek so Jayce could see you as he tried to divert his eyes away.

"You heard me," Jayce muttered, looking toward the window. Sky was already filled with orange hues that made the bedroom look as if it were almost caught on fire. "You can marry me if you want."

You blinked, but no matter how much you tried to clear your view, confusion still impregnated it. “Do you want to marry me?”

He pulled you away, so he could take in the puffy, lavishing dress you were supposed to use in the ceremony. Your hair was pulled away from your face, making your head pulse in a settled, hurtful rhythm.

“I thought once I created Hextech, I would’ve been able to ask your family if I could court you without them family denying it, but…”

Your heart throbbed painfully. Of course, they'd said no. Jayce being behind Hextech's creation was marvelous, a dream come true to any aspiring inventor. But not so for aristocratic families, for them, he was still the heir of a lower house. "Oh, Jayce…"

“I mean—I was planning on telling you; to ask if you, uh… if you reciprocate my feelings. But then your family said no and I… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.” He was fidgeting his fingers over his lap, too afraid of looking at you that now he was scanning every corner of the room. “Do you… do you feel the same?”

Your mind ran toward the myriad of memories you two had shared over the years, the permanent feeling of wanting. "Do you remember when we were kids? When we played house and I told you that I was your wife? I still abide by those words."

The littlest of smiles appear in the corners of Jayce's lips. "I think we should kiss now.”

You chuckled, leaning toward him, you were pulling your skirts off the way so you could fit between his legs- Your hands trembled as you cupped his cheeks, eyes fluttering closer when you brushed your lips against his. You heard him sigh, finally relieved. However, it was only a peck. “Not yet. I’m afraid we need to leave before people start to suspect why the door’s closed,” you said while biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jayce looked at the room. It was all white, adorned with silk and lace around the bed filled with boxes of clothes and shoes. "Do you think you can get out of the window?"

“It’s three stores high, Jayce.” You looked at the bed he was sitting at. “But maybe we can improvise a rope.” Your finger pointed at the mattress.

Jayce jumped out of it and started to throw the gifts on the ground, taking the bedsheets off the mattress. "Just as when we were younger, huh?"

You smiled, dexterous hands already making knots with the fabric to use as holders. You used to escape to Jayce’s house when your parents grounded you. You had to escape from your room, which was easier once you memorize the patrols and the paths of the service toward the rooms. Then, you had to run across the street and climb up the Talis’ house front gate, to where Jayce already expected you with a rope made with his bedsheets and curtains.

Now instead of climbing, you were descending.

He knotted the rope in one of the bed’s legs. “Now, take off your dress and come down.”

You looked at him, cheeks hot, eyebrows raised in perplexion. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Jayce’s hazel eyes widened, with one of his hands covering his mouth. “Not like that! I meant—it’s for… it’s so you can move comfortably!”

Despite the stress building like a tight knot in your belly, you found yourself laughing, trying to conceal the noise between your hands. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

“You don’t sorry in the slightest.”

“You know too well. Turn around and close your eyes, I’ll change into something comfy.”

Jayce snickered. “Afraid I’ll peek?" You hit him in the shoulder and quickly knelt to find the clothes your maid pushed down the mattress while helping you dress up. "Let me know if you need any help.”

You stopped him from turning, your body came too close to him so the back of your knees brushed his pants as you turned around, showing him the back of your dress, a succession of little buttons lost between a sea of lace and silk. “Jayce, unbutton the back of my dress, please.”

You thought he’d said no, but you were running thin on time. When night fall your ceremony would arrive, and the sky was already getting dimmer.

He brushed his fingers through your spine, pulling you closer so he could see the little buttons better, causing you to feel his breath sending warm huffs in the back of your neck and around your shoulders as the fabric of the dress opened more with each turn of his wrist.

When he was done, you kept the dress in place with a firm hand pressed against your chest. You felt his hand hovering in the small of your back, irradiating warmth as you held your breath.

“I should’ve said you look beautiful before you take off the dress,” he said, and your breath got caught in a shaky huff as you let it out. “I love you, so, so much. Ever since I left for the Academy—no, even long before it.”

You chortled, only to hide how flustered you really felt. “I feel like an overly saturated chandelier.” You turned, and his smile made your heart melt. “Thank you, Jayce.”

You quickly changed into your pajamas, still white, but at least they were decorated with baby blue knitting motifs. Jayce held part of the rope as you threw the rest down the window, scanning the lateral courtyard to thankfully find it empty from both guests and the workers.

“Come down and wait for me at the entrance, in the tree near the ugly fountain. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

You looked at Jayce. “The one that looks like an egg with a hole in the middle?” He nodded as you squatted on the window sill, feet pressed under the protuberance in the rock. “Are you going to stay behind?”

“I’ll untie the rope so people can’t know how you escaped, okay?”

Your heartbeat rushed through your ears, drowning any logical thought, any fear you could start to feel as gravity pulled you down and the only thing keeping you safe was a thin silk rope.

Jayce was peeking through the window, a reassuring smile on his face all the time. You focused on it, in the feeling of his soft lips against yours and the way he leaned to your touch. In the future ahead, one when you became a Talis, leaving behind your own—or better say, the one your parents choose you to have after the wedding.

The grass felt soft, cold, and humid against your naked feet. You shivered, eyes darting toward each corner as you dashed toward the fountain, kneeling to tuck your body under it in case someone walked in this lonely path to arrive at the back courtyard, where the ceremony would take place.

From your crouched position, you couldn't see his silhouette moving in the window. The shadows became sharper, the air colder as the sun hide.

Your heart was so loud you were afraid people would hear it. You couldn’t bring yourself to think what your parents—and your ex-fiancé—would do to you, or much worse, to Jayce, if you two got caught.

Time extended too long, and dread made me feel dizzy. You were imagining all the ways Jayce was found; someone saw him get out of your room, your mother caught him descending the stairs…

“I'm here…" Jayce's voice startled you, and you hit your head on the edge of the fountain. He knelt and held you in his arms, one of his hands quickly massaging your scalp. "Are you alright, my sunshine? I'm sorry I startled you."

You tried to ignore the way his nickname made your stomach flutter. “Let’s go! The ceremony should start at any minute.”

It had always been hard to keep up with Jayce's long strides. Today was no different, you felt your legs cramped, but you ran as if you were chased after—and you had to admit, it was half-true. As you were crossing the entrance gate, you heard commotion growing from inside the house. They must have noticed you weren't there already.

Jayce squeezed your hand, fingers interlaced as you ran down the wide avenues, around the boulevards, until the streets narrowed, descending in hills. You thought he was guiding you toward the Talis family house, but no. This part of Piltover was new to you.

“Where… where are… we going?” you said between pants. Your feet hurt from running so much.

“To my new apartment. We’ll spend the night there, and tomorrow—” You had stopped, walking much calmer now that you were a couple of kilometers away from where your wedding was supposed to be held.  “Tomorrow… If you want, tomorrow we’ll get married.”

You smiled, looking at his insecure pose, with shoulders dropped and hands tucked against his belly. He was gigantic, even if he tried to shrink. You stepped over his boots, on your tiptoes to tangle your arms around his wide shoulders.

“Do you promise?” you whispered, the movement making your lips brush against his. He embraced you by the waist.

“I promise, my little sunshine,” he replied, nodding and dipping his head toward you so he could capture your lips fully, wanting to melt in your touch as much as you wanted to get lost in it.

“I love you, Jayce. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He quickly shifted his hold, with one hand on the small of your back, and the other embracing your thighs as he carried you, bride style, toward his apartment. Your feet wiggled in the air, your voice wavering with laughter. "What are you doing?!"

"Practicing," Jayce simply stated, walking steadily up the street. He looked at you, brushing your noses together as he paused to accommodate you, with your hands still embracing his shoulders. “Because I feel like I’m going to this quite a lot from this day onwards.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

⤝Writober - Week ⤞

[NdA]

Okay, small change! In order to not create excessive spam, I decided to manage the writober in a more orderly way. On ao3 I will post the stories day by day, then report them in a single post the whole week on Tumblr!

Day 1: Silco x f!reader Day 2: Ekko x f!reader, Day 3: Jayce x gn!reader, Day 4: Viktor x gn!reader, Day 5: Marcus x gn!reader, Day 6: Vander x gn!reader Day 7: Sevika x gn!reader

▶Writober Day 1 “This is the sign you’ve been looking for” [Silco]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", fem reader ↠TW: SFW, implied violence, implied romantic relationship ↠Character/s: fem reader, Silco, Sevika, Finn, chem barons ↠wc: 1.1k

The devil smiles, ruthless, letting the lips marked by time and hate barely uncover the chipped teeth.

You remain motionless, impassive, while the chem barons swallow loudly to that unexpected and out-of-place reaction from the man: Sevika quickly looks at you moving her gaze only, taking advantage of their distraction to check on you, and you don’t know exactly if she fears that you can do something inappropriate or if she’s simply uncomfortable since she usually acts alone, but you try to don’t give it too much importance. You know you have to be docile.

"So I wonder, why do you insist on wasting my time?" Silco places his palms on the table surface, leaning slightly forward, letting his voice warm as a caress and sharp as a blade reach everyone in a clear way, in a veiled threat.

His two-tone eyes scrutinize one by one the faces of the twelve present sitting at the table, with the security and superiority worthy of a king without a crown, aware that in that haughty room of power-hungry cowards no one will dare answer. 

Yet, despite the tension has saturated the air, you cannot help but feel on the skin the icy and judgemental gaze of some who sits at the table; someone who despite the drastic situation finds time to wonder about who you are: they probably think they’re gonna get out of that room alive, which is why they’re mentally preparing to take you as an hostage or as a blackmail source.

And it’s a probability that you took into account when you agreed to be an accomplice in that meeting, certain that if you really are a weakness for Zaun’s Kingpin then presenting yourself to them meant being the face of the conviction.

No one speaks, only the man sitting at the head of the table on the opposite side of the room seems to exempt himself from the air of fear that the mere presence of Silco brings to the room: he plays carelessly with a lighter, turning it between his fingers, following it with his eyes, covering and uncovering the flame with its golden lid.

If hubris had a face, its irises would be green and its skin covered with ink.

"You know, the girl behind you is really pretty, Silco." His voice breaks the silence like a bolt from the blue, making your heart jump in your chest. Insolent. Self-centered. Devoid of common sense. You’re pretty sure that the one who just opened his mouth is Finn.

"Yet, she seems rather delicate to be a henchman. Is she your collaborator? Your secretary? Or maybe..." He goes on, his voice takes on a mocking note, slightly sharper as if he had to hold a laugh.

Sevika stiffens while the man involved seems not to be disturbed by his arrogance, nor by the transparent provocation. Rather, he straightens his back and raises an arm, inviting you to approach with a gesture of his hand.

"Oh, I see. Are you interested in her?"

"I can’t believe how a sick old man like you has so many pretty faces around"

You get closer to Silco, the sense of nausea grows more and more.

You wouldn’t know exactly if it’s the anxiety, the awareness of how slimy every single rat in that room is, or the absolutely disgusting way the raven-haired man looks at you, but you decide not to investigate more.

Silco puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it imperceptibly as if to reassure you that that pitiful show is about to come to an end.

And you will never admit it aloud but it’s not describable in words how attractive is the way he doesn’t waver even to so stupid but objective provocations: it’s not the wrinkles around the eyes nor the scarring that disfigures the face to make him feel at fault; he certainly knows there are younger and more attractive people out there than an old man who’s irretrievably disfigured, but that’s not his problem. 

Probably Finn himself knows that it’s useless to try to attack the physical appearance of a man who grew up in the Sump, but you’re almost sure that he intends to use something so irrelevant to make him not only feel insecure but even humiliated. 

And God alone is a witness to how pathetic he is as he shrugs lightly as if his foolish words had to trigger who knows what reaction.

Silco lets go of your shoulder and lightly runs two fingers along your spine and Finn makes his gaze dart towards a woman sitting on his right. 

This is the sign you’ve been looking for.

You were warned by Sevika that at the table sat the one who wanted to betray the Kingpin, but there was no certainty if Iscariot was alone or in league with someone. For that reason, as a total outsider, you were asked to attend that meeting that was requested with a little too much urgency.

Your rule, as a hunter, wasn’t only to find out who would betray him, but also with them who, in search of power, would turn their back on the man.

You approach the man with the golden jaw and drop a bag on the table that, when it hits the wood, lets out gold coins.

He looks up perplexed, first at you, then at Silco.

"What does it mean"

"That’s 30 gold coins." You try not to let out any emotion as you speak, and it’s almost ridiculous how your heart does somersaults in your chest when you notice it out of the corner of your eye in Silco’s small grin.

Finn snaps to his feet and slams his hands on the table, stupid and embarrassing exactly as he were described to you: the moment he’s unable to understand something he screams and wiggles like an toddler.

He screams words that you ignore, intent on accomplishing your only task. With one hand you reach for his face to turn it towards you, and before he can grab your wrist to break contact you leave him a quick kiss; then, you place a nail in front of the woman, looking into her eyes without hiding the sadistic vein that accompanies your action.

You have exactly fourteen seconds to get back behind Silco, fourteen seconds before the ruckus breaks out and that room, that until a few moments before was shrouded in silence, turns into hell on earth.

Some understand your signal and get up, others blink their eyes in confusion, others still turn looking for an escape or shelter, while Silco offers you a hand, closing your fingers between his and the palm, leaving a light kiss on the knuckles in a gesture that finally breaks the mask of coldness and tears you a smile.

"You did so good" is just a whisper, but you can’t help but giggle as you squeeze yourself between your shoulders as you leave the door behind.

The devil smiles, ruthless, letting the lips marked by time and hate barely uncover the chipped teeth.

You remain motionless, impassive, while the chem barons swallow loudly to that unexpected and out-of-place reaction from the man: Sevika quickly looks at you moving her gaze only, taking advantage of their distraction to check on you, and you don’t know exactly if she fears that you can do something inappropriate or if she’s simply uncomfortable since she usually acts alone, but you try to don’t give it too much importance. You know you have to be docile.

"So I wonder, why do you insist on wasting my time?" Silco places his palms on the table surface, leaning slightly forward, letting his voice warm as a caress and sharp as a blade reach everyone in a clear way, in a veiled threat.

His two-tone eyes scrutinize one by one the faces of the twelve present sitting at the table, with the security and superiority worthy of a king without a crown, aware that in that haughty room of power-hungry cowards no one will dare answer. 

Yet, despite the tension has saturated the air, you cannot help but feel on the skin the icy and judgemental gaze of some who sits at the table; someone who despite the drastic situation finds time to wonder about who you are: they probably think they’re gonna get out of that room alive, which is why they’re mentally preparing to take you as an hostage or as a blackmail source.

And it’s a probability that you took into account when you agreed to be an accomplice in that meeting, certain that if you really are a weakness for Zaun’s Kingpin then presenting yourself to them meant being the face of the conviction.

No one speaks, only the man sitting at the head of the table on the opposite side of the room seems to exempt himself from the air of fear that the mere presence of Silco brings to the room: he plays carelessly with a lighter, turning it between his fingers, following it with his eyes, covering and uncovering the flame with its golden lid.

If hubris had a face, its irises would be green and its skin covered with ink.

"You know, the girl behind you is really pretty, Silco." His voice breaks the silence like a bolt from the blue, making your heart jump in your chest. Insolent. Self-centered. Devoid of common sense. You’re pretty sure that the one who just opened his mouth is Finn.

"Yet, she seems rather delicate to be a henchman. Is she your collaborator? Your secretary? Or maybe..." He goes on, his voice takes on a mocking note, slightly sharper as if he had to hold a laugh.

Sevika stiffens while the man involved seems not to be disturbed by his arrogance, nor by the transparent provocation. Rather, he straightens his back and raises an arm, inviting you to approach with a gesture of his hand.

"Oh, I see. Are you interested in her?"

"I can’t believe how a sick old man like you has so many pretty faces around"

You get closer to Silco, the sense of nausea grows more and more.

You wouldn’t know exactly if it’s the anxiety, the awareness of how slimy every single rat in that room is, or the absolutely disgusting way the raven-haired man looks at you, but you decide not to investigate more.

Silco puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it imperceptibly as if to reassure you that that pitiful show is about to come to an end.

And you will never admit it aloud but it’s not describable in words how attractive is the way he doesn’t waver even to so stupid but objective provocations: it’s not the wrinkles around the eyes nor the scarring that disfigures the face to make him feel at fault; he certainly knows there are younger and more attractive people out there than an old man who’s irretrievably disfigured, but that’s not his problem. 

Probably Finn himself knows that it’s useless to try to attack the physical appearance of a man who grew up in the Sump, but you’re almost sure that he intends to use something so irrelevant to make him not only feel insecure but even humiliated. 

And God alone is a witness to how pathetic he is as he shrugs lightly as if his foolish words had to trigger who knows what reaction.

Silco lets go of your shoulder and lightly runs two fingers along your spine and Finn makes his gaze dart towards a woman sitting on his right. 

This is the sign you’ve been looking for.

You were warned by Sevika that at the table sat the one who wanted to betray the Kingpin, but there was no certainty if Iscariot was alone or in league with someone. For that reason, as a total outsider, you were asked to attend that meeting that was requested with a little too much urgency.

Your rule, as a hunter, wasn’t only to find out who would betray him, but also with them who, in search of power, would turn their back on the man.

You approach the man with the golden jaw and drop a bag on the table that, when it hits the wood, lets out gold coins.

He looks up perplexed, first at you, then at Silco.

"What does it mean"

"That’s 30 gold coins." You try not to let out any emotion as you speak, and it’s almost ridiculous how your heart does somersaults in your chest when you notice it out of the corner of your eye in Silco’s small grin.

Finn snaps to his feet and slams his hands on the table, stupid and embarrassing exactly as he were described to you: the moment he’s unable to understand something he screams and wiggles like an toddler.

He screams words that you ignore, intent on accomplishing your only task. With one hand you reach for his face to turn it towards you, and before he can grab your wrist to break contact you leave him a quick kiss; then, you place a nail in front of the woman, looking into her eyes without hiding the sadistic vein that accompanies your action.

You have exactly fourteen seconds to get back behind Silco, fourteen seconds before the ruckus breaks out and that room, that until a few moments before was shrouded in silence, turns into hell on earth.

Some understand your signal and get up, others blink their eyes in confusion, others still turn looking for an escape or shelter, while Silco offers you a hand, closing your fingers between his and the palm, leaving a light kiss on the knuckles in a gesture that finally breaks the mask of coldness and tears you a smile.

"You did so good" is just a whisper, but you can’t help but giggle as you squeeze yourself between your shoulders as you leave the door behind.

▶Writober Day 2 “We wanted to be the sky” [Ekko]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", fem reader ↠TW: SFW, kinda fluff, romantic, a bit angst ↠Character/s: fem reader,Ekko, Scar ↠wc: 1.1k

Your eyes struggle to stay open, sleep makes eyelids heavy, and staying awake is suddenly the most difficult task in the world. It was undoubtedly a heavy week: there were toxic spills in the Sump, a couple of raids by the enforces in the Entresol, and even three firelights seriously injured which you had to rescue. I mean, you giggle between you and you, you’ve definitely earned a little rest.

You feel Ekko’s strong arms pick you up and make you do a little hop so he can grab you better, more firmly, and it’s absurd how all the noises are muffled except for his heartbeat: the boy’s heart is wriggling in his chest like a dragonfly in a cage, it seems ready to break his ribs to get out, you can almost feel it hit against your cheek, furious.

You know how much he loves to carry you in his arms like that, he does it often, and every single time he adds that remark that never fails to make you laugh: "I train for the day I marry you".

You hide your face against his chest, squeezing what little you can to gather a minimum of heat while the temperatures of the underground city suddenly drop. You can’t even imagine how cold he’s since he even took off his coat to wrap you with it. God, you always believed that being born in that sewer of the underground city was a curse before knowing him. 

But to this day, if you had to choose between seeing the sun every day or having to crawl in the Sump for the rest of your life, you would always choose the dirty air of your native land if it meant being with him, with the firelights, with your people.

"We’re almost there, hold still." his voice is broken, perhaps from the wind that slams in his face, so strong that his eyes are filled with tears.

"Are you going to marry me?" you speak softly, your voice is feeble but you know he hears it because he squeezes you even more to himself in response, nodding with his eyes tightened. You giggle, but you have to stop immediately when you feel a shooting pain in the belly.

But you’re kinda used to it, it’s quite inevitable for the place you live: you’re all full of bruises and scars, it always hurts everywhere for how many times you fall from overboard, buildings, or roll on the ground during fights and training. You just have to follow the procedure, breathe slowly to get the pain over, and he keeps running as much as possible.

"I’ll marry you now, I swear."

And you find yourself wringing your lips slightly in a smile, closing your eyes, and squeezing even closer to him.

"We get to the lair and I’ll marry you, and I'm gonna carry you in my arms..." his voice stops, and you don’t quite understand the verse that follows, maybe he slammed? A muffled sigh, before he keeps talking "...like a princess, and I’ll show everyone how beautiful my wife is." his wife. You may already be getting used to it.

"Say it again..."

"My wife"

"Once again..."

"My wife. My wife. My wife" his wife.

"I like how it sounds. From today I’ll officially be your wife. And you… you’ll be my husband."

Your neck hurts, as so does your head, and the cold is always sharper, but opening your eyes you begin to recognize the ‘sky’ above your head, now close to that place you call home. You can’t believe it, who knows if he was serious. You wonder if once you get there he really is going to marry you, I mean, it was an odd way to propose, but his voice didn’t sound like a joking person's.

But when you finally get there, instead of smiling, he screams at the top of his lungs.

Scream so loud and desperate you get goosebumps.

He asks for help, yelling so much that he loses his voice. He falls to his knees, but you don’t get hurt, no, even blinded by despair his first thought goes to you, he covers you with his body as if he wanted to protect you from everything. And he cries.

He’s so happy to finally marry you that he cries as his life depends on it.

You don’t really understand what people are saying, and in all honesty, you find it hard to distinguish their faces because of sleep; someone pushes Ekko away and you try to get up but the limbs don’t respond, probably numb from the cold. Damn, and to think that this morning you were even sweating!

"It’s all right, hold on" Scar whispers caressing your face, someone rips your shirt off, and you feel warm water soaking your chest in an unexpectedly relaxing sensation. Thinking becomes more and more difficult, everything turns, everything is confused, but you trust them. It must be a strange custom of firelights, you think. Some kind of preparation for the bride.

"you know..." your voice is hoarse, the taste that reminds you of iron is getting stronger and stronger in your throat, and it’s disgusting. "Ekko and I are getting married."

Scar grits his teeth, probably he wanted to hear it from his best friend, but you need to say it out loud to feel it more real.

"We are getting married, and he promised me..." your chest hurts "that he will carry me all over the lair, to show everyone how beautiful his wife is." Just laugh, your head spins.

"When we were younger we wanted to be the sky. I know, it doesn’t seem to make sense, but the sky was huge, it was beautiful, it was boundless. And we wanted to be like that. We ran to Piltover to look at the clouds. But as I got older, I realized that if the sky equals freedom, my sky is here. I don’t have to climb the rooftops to reach it." You smile weakly at Scar, sleep is becoming really unbearable but you’re embarrassed to admit that despite how excited you are your eyes are struggling to stay open. You are tired, your eyes are tired, your voice is tired.

You just want to sleep.

"I can’t believe it" you see them moving their mouths, they seem to talk but you can’t hear any sound, just annoying static noise. You don’t even know if you’re just thinking or talking out loud at this point. "We’re getting married. We’re finally getting married".

Your eyes close.

And everything fades black.

▶Writober Day 3 “I can't explain and I won't even try” [Jayce]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader(no pronouns used) ↠TW: SFW, fluff, romantic,domestic, babygirl Jayce ↠Character/s: gn reader, Jayce Talis ↠wc: about 1 k

Working for the Kirammans has its pros and cons, no doubt. 

Sure, you come home late, maybe drenched to the bone, but it pays well -and Tobias is such a sweetheart, he feels guilty when you finish your shift too late, so he always makes sure to give you some delicacies and often he offers to give you a ride home. 

And your home, in turn, has its undeniable charm: it isn’t too excessive but it’s warm enough to allow you to breathe a sigh of relief when you enter. When outside it is particularly dark and cold, the main rooms are scattered with candles: a couple on the fireplace, at least five in the bathroom, three more in the kitchen… and the first to come back from their shift usually turn on both the heating and a stove, ready to boil milk for a cappuccino or a hot chocolate.

You get out of the car quickly and greet the man with your hand, he smiles in response and waits for you to enter the gate before starting the car and leaving. You know it’s an automatic gesture, probably dictated by fatherly instinct, but every single time it makes you feel an unexplained warm feeling in your chest, like safety.

But now you have no time for sentimentality, no, you’re finally at home. You can finally relax.

The last drops of rain, you think, then you’ll finally be warm.

The last drops of rain, you think as you press your finger on the doorbell.

The last drops of rain, you think when the latch snaps.

But when the door opens, you understand that that desire is as far as you can imagine: Jayce looks at you, seriously, the gray shirt he usually wears when he is at home is scorched, the soot dirty on his face and arms, in one hand he holds what appears to be the corpse of a cloth. You stare at him, and he looks back, in prolonged eye contact.

"I can’t explain and I don’t even try."

You nod. Excellent argument, no doubt. 

You squeeze your eyes hard, filling your lungs with air until they almost burst into your chest. You put a hand on your temple, trying to assess how serious the situation in the house can be: it’s like a game between you and you, if you think about the worst possible scenarios you almost automatically will think 'I thought worse' when you actually see the disaster. 

"So, what happened this time?" you sigh, closing the door behind you, and before the boy can talk, you clean a speck of soot from under his eye and take advantage of the situation to leave him a quick kiss, accompanied by a 'good evening anyway'.

"I was studying and..." the boy just gestures and shrugs.

"You got distracted?" he snorts in response, addressing his classic pout. 

The living room isn’t that bad at the end of the day, just a little bit of soot on the curtains, some residue of burnt sheets on the ground, and fragments of what you imagine were glass vials on the tables and chairs.

You get the broom in the closet, and in the meantime give the boy instructions to open the windows and remove the curtains. In a few moments the air in the house becomes breathable again, but at the same time so cold to give you goosebumps: it doesn’t happen too often, but it is also not so rare that the carpets get dirty, the tablecloth burns, the walls blacken a little or the paintings fall off. You just got used to it, without getting angry or annoyed too much.

The carpets are taken to the laundry, the tablecloth is mended, the stains on the walls are cleaned, the paintings hung again and the windows reopened to make the room liveable again. You take a quick look out of the corner of your eye at Jayce, who’s obviously in a very bad mood, and you can’t help it but giggle.

"Oh, c'mon big boy. Nothing happened. Now let’s fix the living room and then take a nice warm bath" You approach him and put your hands on his chest, slowly sliding under the shirt. He whispers something incomprehensible about how he’s not angry at all, how he’s just annoyed by how a stupid distraction caused the accident this time and not an experiment, how he’s mortified because it’s cold and he knows it’s late and you’re tired, and so, so much more bullshits.

"I’m not angry, Jayce"

"I know, but I also know that-"

"Jayce"

"I know… but…"

"Let’s do this now: while I close the windows and change the tablecloth you go and prepare the hot water and towels. We deserved that. Okay?"

He nods but his expression doesn’t change, obviously consumed by guilt.

"Oh Jayce! Just one more thing!" he turns to look at you, putting his hand against the door frame.

"I love you." 

He gasps loudly, opening his eyes wide, bites his lower lip embarrassed while his cheeks are get a bit hotter, and squeezes between his shoulders like a child who, on Christmas morning, doesn’t know how to react to the gift he was waiting for from a lifetime, even though you repeat those words every single day.

"I love you too"

And you giggle as you watch his mood suddenly improve, as he can’t help but smile as he goes back and forth between rooms.

▶Writober Day 4 “This is where the magic happens” [Viktor]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: SFW, fluff, implied romanticism, during the timeskip ↠Character/s: gn reader, Viktor ↠wc: 550 words

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You stare at the guy in front of you, busy fiddling with a heavy brass padlock. He doesn’t respond immediately, intent on nibbling on the inside of the cheek concentrated: he slides his fingers on the metal surface rhythmically to understand the arrangement of the small weights inside the lock, in a gesture so natural that you’re almost ashamed when you feel the blood rising to your face.

"Absolutely..." a firm wrist movement. "...not." 

Click.

The padlock opens with a small snap and the guy turns to look at you, the satisfied smile of those who haven't feared for a moment to fail in his intent. Viktor quickly stows the trinkets in a metal box -probably an old candy container- and opens the door of the workshop, turning a little friendly bow. You hesitate a few moments before stepping in, the dark room is illuminated only at some points by dim blue lights, such as clumsily fireflies hidden behind furniture and machinery of dubious nature.

The heavy door closes behind you and, in an almost mechanical gesture, the boy heads towards one of the light sources, lifting a rough, blue, small sphere that beats between the tapered fingers as if it was alive. 

"This is where the magic happens."

He sticks the gem in a small hole covered with circuits and the whole room lights up with a strong, blue light. Immediately you feel the skin hit by a static feeling, the hair of the arms go straight and your hair, suddenly light, follows your movements with slowness. Viktor chuckles with a hand in his pocket, noddin at you when finally his hand meets the object he was looking for. 

“Heads or tails?” He shows you a silver coin, then he flips it in the air, enjoying your expression the moment you realize it won’t come back in his hand.

"Is... isn’t there gravity?"

"It is not correct, gravity is still present. But it acts with such a meager force that it doesn’t affect bodies." He can’t help but smile, proud of that little workshop that for a year has turned into his second home. One by one he takes his fingers off the handle of the cane, giving himself a small push to rise in the air, with the nonchalance of those who have already done it a thousand times and another thousand will do it again.

"Aren’t you coming?"

"How?"

"Jump. Just jump."

And you do it. Your stomach tightens, your clothes lag behind your movements, your body suddenly seems to be swallowed by the void, and even if you try to move you can’t really do anything, soon finding yourself spinning without any dignity or control. The boy approaches and offers you a hand, holding onto a tube with the other one.

"This is embarrassing"

"It just takes some practice, c’mon. Hold onto me." And suddenly you feel like a child, desperately holding with both hands on Viktor’s arms, terrified that if he leaves you, you’ll get hurt.

But he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he puts his hands on your hips, and closes his eyes, enjoying the almost total absence of weight. You’re light. You’re alone.

Isolated from everything and everyone, in that small laboratory where magic is consumed.

▶Writober Day 5 “Sinners” [Marcus]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: Slightly NSFW, "dancer"!reader, slightly degradation kink, spit kink, Last drop? Brothel? Who knows ↠Character/s: gn reader, Marcus ↠wc: 578 words

The glass sprints in a single fluid movement through the entire counter, dressing with the colored lights of the room before finishing its short run in the gloved hand of the policeman, who, without any hesitation or delay, brings it to his lips.

The music is so loud that the bass resonates in the diaphragm and makes the liquids vibrate rhythmically in the bottles carefully arranged behind the counter, as in a collective and hypnotic dance able to overcome the fourth dimension. Everything in that place seems to transcend the human as if someone had managed to scratch a slice of hell inside a closed building.

The moans and sighs accompany the notes, coming from every corner of the room, where shameless lustful don’t deprive themselves of a macabre dance, hungry for the body and soul of each other. On the stage and the counter several figures move ambiguous and sensual, without any gender and race, as if they lived only for that moment, and you with them. 

You make your hands run on your skin uncovered, the lips hatched ready to give lascivious smiles to those sinners who despairing crowd at your feet, praying for one moment of your attention.

Keep your eyes glued to that of the man, intent on enjoying the only time when you, a dirty little animal of the underground city, can look down from above not only some piltover but even a public official. You kneel before him without stopping to dance, fluid as a snake, only to observe him better in those eyes so dark that they seem to swallow every single glimmer of light. 

He sweats.

Swallows.

And you wonder if he feels dirty, if he feels like he’s in a cage, if he realizes that he’s just your prey.

And he, like a good obedient child, doesn't say a word. You grab his jaw between your thumb and pointer, slightly moving his face as you would with a precious gem, arching your back instinctively when he, instead of resisting, remains soft in your hands.

Docile, that man who the next morning would be ready to shoot a bullet directly between your eyes to keep his business clean, is now totally submissive to the touch of a mere prostitute.

You want to kill him.

At least threaten him, make him feel small, but you know you can’t.

You limit yourself to make a slight pressure on the just dug cheeks of the man to force him to open his mouth, then, with one hand, you lift his glass stealing a sip of his stupid and predictable gin. 

Rich people have no taste nor imagination.

And when he raises his eyebrows confused, you recline your head, his lips a few millimeters from yours while you spit out the clear liquid in his mouth, rippling in a smile of pure pleasure when the man’s eyelids close slightly and his back stiffens.

Pathetic. 

The red of the lights doesn’t stop you from clearly seeing the coins and bills that from time to time he slips at your feet, like a drug addict willing to do anything for a dose. And you, magnanimously, every time kneel down before him, letting him once touch a leg to worship your body, once feel your mouth so close to his skin that you can whisper against it every single sin you committed.

And he, second after second, falls more and more in the arms of a demon.

▶Writober Day 6 “If we ever stop talking send me a song” [Vander]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: SFW, angst, takes place during the time skip, I had to change a bit the prompt, the song is "our love" from Arcane ↠Character/s: gn reader, Vander, implied Mylo, Claggor, Jinx and Vi ↠wc: 605 words

“Ooh, like Sunday I'll pray our love will always stay pure… Ooh, while the world turns around, he holds me down for sure”

The voice mixes with the wind, the distant squeak of the gears of the elevator that connects Piltover to that place that has now taken the name of Zaun, the roar of the water of the port, the ticking of the rigid soles of the merchants who move back and forth while talking to each other, the noise of puddles that are hit by the feet of some bandit intent on diverting enforcers.

The underground city is breathing.

It seems almost intolerable in your eyes the audacity with which the city is getting back on its feet, as if time had continued to flow undaunted while, for you, the entire universe remained frozen at that night. Your voice cracks slightly, permeated with melancholy.

He promised you that he would always be there, that he would be your shield, that you would grow old together in that filthy world, making each other’s days less miserable. He promised you that you would work together at the inn, where you would dance every night as soon as the heavy door closed. He promised you that you would raise the children he picked up from the street together, like a real family. The same children he had brought with him as if he had not limited himself to death but had erased every single trace of his passage.

And the worst part is that you have no one to blame, not a single scapegoat to whom you can direct all your hatred, your malaise, your frustration. One part of your brain is angry with him, with the great Vander, the underground hound, who was so intent on saving everyone that he failed to save himself, while another part of you screams that you should have been with him that night, That you knew something was wrong, that maybe you couldn’t prevent it, but you could die there, in peace, next to your family.

The throat knot prevents you from finishing the song.

God, you’re so ungrateful.

You should just be happy that you’re still alive, that you’re okay, that they’re in a place that doesn’t smell like a sewer. But you’re selfish.

You miss them, you miss them in such a heartbreaking way that your heart seems to rip in two every single morning when you wake up in a bed suddenly too big, too empty.

You try to suffocate a cry, squeeze yourself between your own arms, squint with so much strength to see the residual image of that place even with your eyes closed, tighten your jaw feeling every single muscle in your neck in tension.

You can’t cry in front of him. He hates to see you cry.

It takes you a bit before trying to recompose, then you clear your voice with your eyelashes still damp, a deep breath, and start singing again with a stony tone your song, the one that you used to keep away from the jukebox because nobody, except you two, could play it.

"Do you remember, Vander? You said that to me. 'If we ever stop talking, I will sing you a song'. And every day..." the words die in your throat. You see your own reflection in the water at the foot of the statue: your eyes are reddened and dug, your lips are pale and chapped. Who knows if he’d be able to love you even now, even seeing you like this. "...every day for 251 days, I’ve come to sing you a song."

▶Writober Day 7 “Drunk enough to say I love you?” [Sevika]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", gn reader ↠TW: NSFW, implied prostitute!reader, ↠Character/s: gn reader, Sevika ↠wc: 658 words

The synthetic light filters through the fabric of the lamps, caressing with certain malice the furniture that decorates the room and, with it, your skin. It is a kind of ritual, the Mass on Saturday evening: every week the woman -a henchman of the most powerful man of Zaun- finishes her shift and religiously comes to the place of worship. She bows her head as soon as she comes in, out of respect, and kisses your knuckles modestly. It’s almost a prayer, she addresses you with the admiration with which you turn to a prominent figure, and thanks you when you accept her invitation.

Every week that amber-skinned woman turns to you, and even if she knows you’ll never deny her anything, -that you’re willing to serve her your body and soul on a silver platter if she asks,- she thanks you for your availability as if she didn’t expect it. You don’t understand if it’s some kind of game, a premise, an introduction that she doesn’t want to change, or if she really believes that one day you will say no to her, but it doesn’t matter. Not now.

Now there are no questions, the mass has begun.

You let your fingers run gently over the woman’s collarbones, in a rhythmic movement that occasionally varies in a slightly longer or shorter path, in a curious, intimate contact. She looks at you from time to time as you sit meekly on her thigh, leaning her chin to the back of your neck to rest a little and allowing a smile to surface on her lips only when she is sure you can’t notice it.

You are alone, two bodies abandoned to lust in a brothel room, accomplices the countless bottles of alcohol now abandoned empty on the floor, a gramophone that wearily continues to moan its notes, the night particularly suitable to be spent basking in melancholy and a few butts off in an ashtray, so full to sob grayish clouds whenever something moves in its vicinity. 

You remain in silence almost religiously, the breaths still labored, and the smell of sex fills the air giving it a forbidden aroma, sometimes delicious.

Sevika reaches out to a bottle of Jack Daniel’s left on the bedside table and takes a deep sip before letting a much-suffered "shit" slip away.

"the head hurts" she adds. "I’m fucking drunk"

"How drunk?" you ask, looking at her with an amused look, gently caressing her face as you enjoy her reddened eyes.

"Too drunk" she replies with a face that makes you laugh. You lean forward to kiss her, and she, damned predator, immediately brings a hand to the base of your back, clutching at yourself, eager.

"drunk enough to say I love you?"

She stares at you for a few seconds which seems like an eternity, forbidden, and only after several moments the corners of her lips lift slightly. She kisses you this time, descending to your neck in a ravenous wake, letting the dark lips indulge on your skin, torturing it with the tip of her tongue and teeth. You cling to her, sinking your fingers into her scarred back, overcome by the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Sevika" you call her name, eyes closed as the woman lays you on the bed, continuing that impetuous run along your body.

"Sevika" her name comes out like a lament as her black hair disappears between your legs. She keeps you by the thighs while calmly letting her tongue, moist and warm, impact your cold skin. She eats you with the grace of a nobleman at a banquet, taking all the time necessary to enjoy your taste thoroughly, to enjoy every inch of you.

And you don’t know exactly how much time she spends with her cheeks clenched between your knees, but when she finally lifts her head, her wet lips shine, making her as beautiful as ever.

"What do you think, does that count?"

[buttermyother]

Ding, Ding | Jayce x Fem!Reader Smut

Masc!Reader version here Summary: Bakery AU - Jayce stays to close up after Heimerdinger leaves early one night, giving him ideas that he doesn't expect to face again the next morning. Warnings: Semi-public sex, improvised fleshlight, penetration, oral sex, choking, dom/sub undertones, fingering, cockwarming, yeah, you get it

━━━━━━

Ding, ding.

The chimes above the door rang for the last time of the day as Jayce watched Heimerdinger disappear from view, his gloves still caked with flour. He couldn't help but smile at the small waddle in the Yordle's walk before locking the front entrance himself with a sigh.

It wasn't often that he would volunteer to close up shop, but today had put him in a particularly good mood. Heimerdinger had finally let him work with the dough, there wasn't a single customer that snapped at him, and most importantly, you had finally returned to Piltover after your week-long trip. It had been too long since he had seen you, and even longer since you had leaned over the counter close enough for him to smell you, your delicate scent still hanging over him like a fog. 

Jayce blushed at merely the memory, idly kneading then plastic-wrapping portions of dough that were to be chilled overnight. 

Although you were a daily visitor, he could never get over his bashfulness as soon as he saw you sweep into the bakery, your smile of greeting burned into his mind. 

He could recall it as easily as he could the flashes of your midriff when reaching for a product on a taller shelf, or the nimble motions of your fingers as you unwrapped confections that he had just rung you up for. Jayce desperately hoped that you didn't notice him staring at your mouth each time your delicate lips parted to place the candy on your tongue, or how much he wished he could take its place. 

"God, not now," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. In his stupor, Jayce didn't even realize he had been kneading the same ball of dough for so long it was noticeably warm. Praying he didn't overwork it, he carefully wrapped it, trying to ignore the stirring in his core that the thought of you provoked. 

As he looked down at the dough, an idea flitted through his head, albeit not its first time. But, this instance was different. It lingered as he bit his lip and stared down at the counter, his pants tightening as he took the notion into consideration. 

Though Jayce knew there couldn't possibly be anybody watching, he still furtively cast his eyes about before unbuttoning his trousers with fumbling fingers, his heart pounding in his ears. 

Delicately, he pulled down the waistband to his boxers, his already throbbing cock bobbing up and down upon its release. He was aware his idea couldn't possibly end well, but he had gone far too long enduring the subtle brush of your fingers against his during transactions or the distinct sway of your hips to think of anything else in the moment. 

With only a second of hesitation, Jayce anchored the back of the dough with one hand to the surface of the counter, his breaths heavy, almost strained. 

Cautiously, he pressed his tip into the dough with a muffled grunt; the sensation was far from perfect, but he had to admit it was indefinitely more pleasant than thrusting into his own calloused fist. He closed his eyes as he pushed his hips forward, trying to envision you squirming beneath him, tightening around him as you begged for his touch. God, what he would give to know if you spent as many nights as he did with his hand stirring beneath his bedsheets, gasping your name out loud like he was afraid he'd forget it otherwise. 

The plastic wrap chafed his shaft slightly as he continued but he paid no mind to it until thrusting one final time, the energy and lust rapidly draining from his body. 

Jayce looked down at the mess and winced, the plastic wrap evidently torn in some places. Suddenly ashamed of himself, he threw it into the discard bin and wiped himself clean with a paper towel, trying not to think of what had just transpired. 

As quickly as he could, he wrapped up the rest of the batch and made his way home, hoping that his self-disgust would be left behind with the dough.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Ding, ding.

The pleasant smell of warm bread greeted you, wafting over you as your daily welcome. You waved at Heimerdinger as peered over the counter at you with a smile, his face barely visible over the surface. 

"Anything new today?" you called, surveying the shelves. 

"Believe it or not, yes," he squeaked, scurrying over to you. "Here!"

He presented you a tray with a rather large loaf, especially compared to the usual personal portions you would buy. 

"Heimerdinger, you know me," you said with an apologetic smile. "What would I do with so much bread?" 

"I suppose you're right," he replied, sighing. "It's so large that I've had to bake it on its own tray — Jayce must've been a bit distracted when portioning them."

"Jayce?" you asked, suddenly interested. "Since when did you let him do more than sweep the floors?"

"Since not anymore," he huffed. "That boy will be the end of me." 

"I'll take it off your hands then," you said with a smile. Sure, you felt intrigued by something Jayce made, but it couldn't hurt you to do Heimerdinger a favor either. 

"Oh, bless you," the yordle tittered, returning behind the cash register. 

"Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Most likely still in bed; it wouldn't be the first time."

You shared a laugh and left with a distinctly large bag — as well a head swimming with thoughts of what Jayce's arms looked like while working the dough, your only regret that you didn't get to see it.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Ding, ding.

Jayce rushed into the bakery, almost barreling into a display of pastries, Heimerdinger's yelling barely audible over his panting.

"What's gotten into you?" he shouted, prodding him on the shoulder. "Just because you're late doesn't mean you also have to knock the place down! And that's without mentioning your careless job last night, thank goodness I had managed to hand off the glob of dough you so carelessly tossed aside."

"Glob of dough?" Jayce breathed, a blanket of dread settling over him. If he wasn't lightheaded before, he most definitely was now. "Larger than the rest? Torn wrapping? I thought I threw it into the discard bin."

"No," Heimerdinger said while drawing out the word, raising an eyebrow. "It was hanging over the bin onto the counter, so I assumed you were just being sloppy. Why? Is something wrong with it?"

"Of course not," he answered hastily, cursing himself inwardly. "Who purchased it?"

The blanket of dread became a cage as soon as your name reached his ears, causing him to stiffen. 

"Speaking of which," Heimerdinger said, motioning to the door. 

Jayce could've fainted in that moment as he saw your figure stride down the street to the shop, clearly in a hurry.

"I have a feeling we won't be too busy today so I'm going to purchase some ingredients," the yordle said, wagging a finger. "Which you will not be able to work with."

He mumbled an absentminded apology as he watched you pass by Heimerdinger in the doorway with a small nod, hoping his fear didn't viscerally show. 

"Hey," you said, just one word enough to accelerate his heartbeat. "I was just here but I realized I forgot to get something for some family in town." 

Just as he was about to speak, you continued, "Plus, I didn't get to see you." The line made him shut his mouth instantly, feeling the flush creep up his cheeks. 

"Was the bread okay?" he sputtered, wincing at his own fumbling. 

"The bread? Oh!" you laughed, coaxing him to blush further. "I haven't tried it yet, it's a bit intimidating, actually. But I'm sure you did a good job with it.

The panic settled in again before he remembered there was no way you could've possibly known what he did, leading him to awkwardly respond, "I just kneaded it, it was nothing."

You were struggling to keep a straight face as you watched Jayce unwind in front of you, becoming more flustered by the second. It was true you enjoyed his embarrassment each morning, but for whatever reason, he seemed particularly easy to disconcert this morning.

"Actually," he said, the waver suddenly gone from his voice, causing you to perk up. "I was thinking of you during it." 

"Really?" you exclaimed, surprised in more ways than one. It wasn't often he would flirt back, but you had to say that you were pleased. "While kneading dough?"

Could he grow any more red? you thought as he diverted his eyes, fiddling with a pen. 

"Sorry, is that weird? I didn't mean it in a weird way, in fact, I think about you a lot which is probably why-"

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, more amused than anything as you leaned forward on the counter, laying a hand on his.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, you felt his lips press against yours before quickly withdrawing, a horrified expression on his face as his eyes swung every which way besides your face. 

"Were you- Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I thought you were trying to... I should just dunk myself in a bag of flour, I apologize," he said, scrambling until you firmly grabbed his chin, forcing your gazes to meet.

"It's okay," you replied decisively, trying to keep your voice low while ignoring the heat building in your core. "I've actually been trying to do that for a while."

His eyes widened so dramatically you had to bite back a laugh, choosing instead to pull his face towards you to plant a kiss on his lips, letting it linger for only a moment before retracting your head. 

To your surprise, Jayce immediately pulled you back in, both hands cupping your cheeks as you felt his mouth part slightly, wetting yours just enough to give your heart a small jolt. 

"We probably shouldn't do this over the counter," you mumbled into the kiss, feeling him nod against you.

He pulled you into the back room with more purpose than you had ever seen him act with, making you smile as you pushed him against the brick wall. 

"What're you grinning about?" he asked almost sheepishly, wrapping one hand around your waist as the other crept behind your neck.

"Nothing," you whispered between kisses up his neck, pressing the last one to the corner of his mouth. "Just how much I've been dreaming of this."

"That makes two of us," he growled as you tugged on his waistband with a questioning look, only to be met with an eager nod. 

You immediately dropped to your knees while he fumbled with his belt, hastily sidling down his pants to expose an extremely distinct bulge, the sight alone enough to make your mouth water. Tentatively, he lowered his boxers as well, his cock already leaking at the tip as it swung in front of you, the tip an aggressive red. 

Jayce watched with an attentive stare as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, responding to his sharp intake of breath with a smirk. Making sure to maintain your eye contact, you slowly brought your lips to the tip, sucking gently as he lay a hand on your head, though he didn't move any further. You licked up the slit as the head was still in your mouth, the salty taste lingering on your taste buds as you pushed yourself onto him deeper, dragging your tongue alongside the bottom of his shaft as you did. 

You only bobbed up and down a few times before he hissed, causing you to release him from your mouth, afraid that something had gone wrong; but, he simply bent down to grab you by the hips, swinging you onto a nearby table. 

"Need more," he simply said, the both of you ignoring the clatter of a multitude of pans and trays falling to the ground as you slid off your bottoms, sighing slightly as your warm cunt was exposed to the air, so wet that it glistened even in the faint morning light. 

"Never thought I'd see this side of-"

The words were whisked from your mouth as he inserted two of his fingers into your hole without warning, admiring how you were already soaking for him. 

"Never thought you'd see this side of what?" he asked with a smirk, causing you to tighten around his digits. 

You didn't expect him to have such confidence, even at this stage, but you had to say that you were enjoying it immensely. 

"Are you sure you're alright with this?" he said, a bit of his previous demeanor returning. 

"Jayce," you replied firmly, giving him a dumbfounded expression. "I did not suck your cock just for you to tuck it back into your pants and ring me up some pastries." 

He laughed and the tension dissipated, withdrawing his fingers only to stroke himself for a moment, running his other hand up the inside of your legs.

Marvelling at the way his tip glistened as he ran it over your folds, he gently slid inside of you, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. At its absence, he hooked a hand under each of your thighs, thrusting slowly as you revelled in the sensation of him stretching you, a dire improvement from teasing yourself with your fingers as you merely dreamt of such a situation. 

Grunting, he quickened the pace as he moved his arms to plant them beside you, only for you to grab his wrist, earning a questioning expression. 

You lifted it to place it on your throat instead, and the expression turned to understanding as he dug his fingers into the side of your neck, practically elevating you to another realm. 

The warmth building in your core let you know that your climax was mounting slowly, though it escalated abruptly as Jayce brought his other hand down to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb in firm yet lazy circles. The feeling only grew exponentially as he breathed between thrusts, "God, I just love how you throb under me, it's like I was made to pound you right through this table."

Nodding numbly, you began to jerk your hips in succession with his, clenching even tighter around him as you felt your high closely approaching. 

"I'm going to cum," you managed to utter, your mouth dry and mind hazy. 

"Me too," he said under his breath, the sound of his skin slapping into yours mounting in volume. "Finish for me."

You came almost exactly as he commanded it, mindlessly repeating his name as your walls squeezed around his cock, Jayce following quickly as you felt his hot cum spill inside of you.

He groaned loudly as he leaned over to meet your lips with his, the grip on your neck loosening as your tongue slid into his mouth, gliding across his teeth. You could feel him pulsating inside of you as he stayed pressed against your body, his climax squeezing the last of the cum out of him in a thin trickle. 

"You're perfect," he mumbled against your mouth, one hand brushing behind your ear. 

"Save it for a date," you laughed, revelling in his hot breath fanning across your face. "That is, if you're up for one?"

"Of course," he said. He paused, the usual hesistance in his tone returning as he asked, "Is it uncomfortable if I don't pull out yet? It's just that I feel like I'd be okay with being stuck in this position forever."

"That's something I can get behind," you said with a smile which only grew as he returned it. "Maybe I should swing by here more often."

"More than you already do?" he responded with a chuckle, sidling his arms under your back to lift you into a sitting position, his cock sliding out of you leaving with a sudden empty feeling; you couldn't believe that you were already craving more, not that the sheen that his sweat behind and his still-taut muscles helped. "At this rate, I'd swear you come just to see me."

"I hate to say it, but that's not completely wrong." Your voice dropped as you continued, somehow more ashamed of your next words more than anything you had done during the day, Jayce's mock-offended expression mirroring them.

"Don't tell Heimerdinger this, but I actually don't like bread that much."

[thedreamlessnights]

Roommates

Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader || NSFW || Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mention of sex toys, getting caught masturbating, oral sex (fem receiving), overstimulation, mentions of edging, P in V sex, cumming inside.

Synopsis: Jayce (your super hot roommate) doesn't know how to knock.

You’ve wanted Jayce since the moment you first saw him. 

Back then, you’d been in need of a roommate, but hardly anyone had responded to your advertisement. It’d gotten to the point where you were ready to give up and starve, desperate to find a solution. Anyone that had the money to split the rent, and wasn’t a creep. 

Like a saving grace, Jayce had answered your advertisement, the two of you had met up, and you’d figured out that he was essentially perfect within the first two minutes.

Jayce wasn’t a creep. Not even remotely. 

He was likable, tall, polite. A natural at creating conversation in the awkward pauses where you tried not to stare at him; tried not to notice how he smelled of bergamot and vetiver. 

He was single, too. 

You never really understood that. People flocked over him in every situation, fawning over him, batting their eyelashes as they eye-fucked him through conversations. How on earth was he not taken, when he could have his picking of anyone? When he could have you even, though you never truly had the courage to offer yourself to him?

How could you, though, when he was the perfect roommate? When it risked you losing everything you’d grown so accustomed to as a year and a half stretched on?

Jayce was tidy. He never ate your food from the fridge, or left the toilet seat up, or kept you up into the night blasting music. You liked the arrangement the two of you shared over quiet nights in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket and poring over a book. 

 Sometimes he’d even bring you back your favorite snack from the grocery store, grinning down at you, reminding you of the endearing gap between his teeth. 

When you got stuck on an assignment, he always seemed to know the answer. So damn smart. And, admittedly, he had pretty good taste in movies. 

Yes, some of them may have been cheesy, but they always left you smiling. Feel-good, as he liked to call it, sprawled out over the couch, long legs and warm, callused hands, and the shirt that hugged him just right.

You’d often spend your nights daydreaming of ways to tell him how you felt - tell him that you were his for the taking, if he ever wanted you. Unfortunately, daydreams were much easier to manipulate than real life. You could manipulate the lines, the settings, the feelings to be whatever you wanted to be. 

In life, you couldn’t do that. Confession was miserable, and you never found the courage to tell him.

As you find out one dreadful day, you don’t have to confess anything.

Instead, Jayce comes bursting through your bedroom door at the worst possible time - when you’re blissfully close to your climax, favorite vibrator fixed in hand, other hand gripping the sheets. When you’d forgotten to lock the door, thinking that he wouldn’t be home for another hour. 

You just barely have the time to shut the vibrator off and throw your sheets over yourself when you hear him, a flurry of cotton and your heart thrumming violently in your chest and thanking the heavens that you’d kept your shirt on. 

“Hey,” he says, seemingly not noticing anything amiss, “have you seen my, uh…”

And then he trails off, eyes fixed on your face, taking you in. Then, his gaze slowly trails downward. It fixes on two things: the vibrator that you’d neglected to cover, and your obvious bottle of lube. Very, very slowly, his cheeks go pink.

“I - I’m so sorry,” follows next. He covers his eyes, like that’ll somehow help the situation, then backs out of the room, feeling around at the doorway to help him. “Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Sorry.” With a bump, he bangs into the doorway, nursing the side of his head. “Ouch,” he hisses. “Sorry!”

In all his embarrassment, he leaves the door open.

Considering what just happened, you’re not exactly about to get up, ass bare, and shut it. Now when it risks him seeing you again, but this time even more exposed.

“It’d help you to learn how to knock,” you call, shaking like a leaf from the leftover adrenaline. “And to shut the door!”

“Right!” 

Except he hesitates at the doorway when he sees you again, hovering around like he’s trying to decide on something. 

Your face is burning like the fucking sun. What the hell is he doing?

“Well?” you ask. “Are you planning to join in, or are you going to close the door?”

You don’t mean your question literally, but that changes as soon as you see his face. Flushed, yes, but his pupils are blown wide, lips parted, eyes darting over you and then away as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“D-Do you want me to join in?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I?”

He can’t be serious, can he?

“If you want,” you say, voice shakier than you want it to be. “Then… yeah, I want that.”

He nods.

“I want it, too.”

The look in his eyes is giving you some new form of confidence that has you raising your chin and meeting his gaze.

“Then close the door and come here,” you instruct. 

He’s quick to follow your instructions, shutting the door behind him with a soft click before he hesitantly approaches, halting at the foot of the bed.

It’s strange - it’s almost like he hasn’t ever done this before, but then again he hasn’t fucked anyone in the last year and a half (at least, not to your knowledge). He might just be ridiculously horny.

“Jayce,” you say, “what do you want?”

His eyes, which had been focused on the bottle of lube near you quickly flit back up to yours.

“I want to eat you out,” he says, swallowing hard. “I want to make you cum.”

In all your years, never once has a man told you he wants to eat you out. Most times, you’ve had to ask for it, and they’d complained the entire time and still hadn’t managed to make you cum.

The desperation Jayce clearly has for you is almost unbearable - it almost has you jumping him, tearing his clothes off, begging him to fuck you. Eating you out is a close second to that. You nod and slowly slide the sheets down your right thigh, and Jayce takes the opportunity to sit on the bed next to you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“You can do anything you want,” you tell him, and he doesn’t waste a moment before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is hungry - his hands find your waist immediately, slowly tugging your shirt up, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin of your stomach, tongue molding against yours. You fist a hand in his hair and he moans into your mouth, already getting hard in his jeans.

As the kiss deepens, he pulls the shirt up and off you, trailing his mouth, hot and wanting, down your neck. He presses feather-light kisses, gentle bites, soft nuzzles to the skin, trailing down to your bra.

“Fuck,” he says when he sees it - as if he hadn’t noticed it there before. As if the plain fabric is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re so… fuck,” he groans. “Sexy. Jesus.” 

And with that, he unhooks your bra and tosses it off the bed, undoubtedly landing somewhere on your floor.

You were dripping before he’d come in. Now, well… if someone opened the dictionary to the word wet it’d probably be a picture of you. 

“Don’t stop,” you manage, practically panting as he makes his way down your stomach, stopping at your hips to nip near the bone and draw shuddering gasps out of you.

Your hand reaches down to grab his hair again but you find his hand instead, his grip steady on yours. Of course he’d hold hands during sex. Still, you can’t say that you mind. It has you flustered, soft. Pliable for him.

The warmth of his breath on your thigh already has you shivering, twitching at the feeling. He takes his time leaving hickeys up their expanse, kissing the soft flesh.

Then he slides lower.

The first breath on your clit has you jerking away from his touch. He presses his mouth to you ever so softly, then with more pressure, and you moan and grab the sheets with your free hand, absentmindedly grinding into his face.

“Fuck, Jayce,” you manage, mouth suddenly dry. You swallow hard, shutting your eyes and sinking into the feeling of his tongue slowly tracing circles around your clit, running long strokes against you with his mouth until you nearly cum then and there.

In response to your words, Jayce only groans. Never pulling away, never letting up. He’s like a man starved, arm hooked around your thigh to keep you still, other hand gripped in yours, firm but not painful, making you shudder and shake and whine for him until you almost can’t take it anymore.

You’d been so close before he came in that it doesn’t take you long to get there again - letting out a quick gasp and squeezing his hand.

“I’m close,” you manage.

He pauses for the briefest moment, sinks into you a little more, and promptly sucks on your clit.

The orgasm hits you like a fucking hammer - knocking the wind out of you, forcing your soul out of your body. You lose all sense of where you are as white-hot waves of pleasure sweep over you. You’re just barely aware that you’re moaning.

As you come down a little more, you realize that Jayce hasn’t stopped eating you out. Your breath hits your lungs in a sharp, desperate sound as you start to squirm from overstimulation.

“Jayce,” you breathe, “holy shit.”

He pauses for a moment, fingers trailing over your thigh. 

“Want me to stop?”

You pause for a moment.

“No,” you decide. “Keep going.”

More than happy to oblige, Jayce hooks your right thigh over his shoulder and goes back to work. Considering your sensitivity, his tongue is softer this time - light, gentle strokes, giving you a little space to recover as he slowly builds you up. 

It feels fucking amazing. When you jerk away, his hand tightens on your hip - essentially holding you down, and you've never had anything like this before. You’re making sounds that are wildly inappropriate, and you’re thanking everything possible that you don’t live in a shitty apartment building with paper-thin walls. 

As heat floods you and your back begins to arch, Jayce takes the opportunity to add in his fingers - much longer than yours, warm, thick. He starts with one, finding zero resistance, and immediately adds another. 

Fuck, you think, and then you’re gone.

As your second orgasm crashes over you - faster than you could ever get yourself there - your soul seems to leave your body. The world fuzzes and blurs, pleasure hums through your veins, and you clench around Jayce’s fingers.

It takes you a long moment to come down, panting. It’s then you realize that your hand is still tangled up in Jayce’s. He’s taken to pressing soft kisses everywhere he can - your thighs, your hips.

“Come up here,” you request. 

He’s still fully dressed, his shirt hugging his arms as he pushes up to you, leaving one final kiss on your thigh. Then he kisses your lips, still tasting of you. Post-climax, your brain is fogged over and your actions are clumsy. All you know is that you want him inside you, and that you can’t wait for it much longer.

Hooking your fingers under his shirt, you tug at it until he gets the picture and pulls it up over his head. Then you freeze.

You’ve seen Jayce shirtless before - after morning runs, standing bright-eyed in the kitchen, sweat shimmering on his skin, chest still heaving from the exercise. You’d had to leave the room every time, trying desperately not to think of that image when your hand found its way under the waistband of your pants and between your legs.

But now he’s on top of you - available to run your hands over, and you can’t resist the opportunity to do just that.

He whines when you touch him, burying his face in your neck as you map your way over his shoulder-blades, over his biceps and forearm, everywhere you can reach.

 “You’re gorgeous,” you murmur. “You know that, pretty boy?”

He lets out a whimper.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

That sentence, in addition to the fact that you can feel how hard he is against you - aching to be relieved - has you fucking desperate for him. You’re ready to start grinding against his leg.

“I want you inside me, Jayce,” you request. “Please - fuck me.”

He lifts up from your neck, sitting up to undo his jeans with shaking hands, shuddering as you touch his shoulders, kissing up his neck from behind.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” you hum, nipping at his ear. “So fucking… smart, and… sexy, and nice? How the hell has no one snatched you up yet?”

“I wanted you,” he confesses. “I’ve been trying to ask you out to dinner for months, but… I got nervous, I guess.”

You bite him a little harder and he winces, lifting his hips from the bed to pull his jeans down his legs. In apology, you leave a soft kiss on the mark you’ve just left, one that will undoubtedly bloom purple against his skin.

“Well, I guess we skipped dinner,” you say with a light laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Unless you still want that, in which case… I’m free on Thursday?”

Jayce, still in his boxers, twists to face you in a single fluid motion, pushing you onto your back again, hands fixing on your wrists as he pins you down. His knees end up framing your waist as he grins down at you, loosening his grip.

“Thursday sounds like a plan,” he says, giving you another kiss. Then he moves downward, tugging his underwear off, propping your legs apart with his knee and lining himself up with your entrance.

He groans as he pushes into you, so wet for him that he slides all the way inside you with one motion. 

You choke out a moan and grab against his back, nails clawing into the skin.

“Holy fuck,” he pants. “Feel so… fucking good for me. Fuck.”

After all the time he’d been hard and leaking for you, it doesn’t take him very long to get close - but each time he gets to the edge, he slows down, pressing his forehead to yours, brows creasing.

He’s edging himself, essentially. That, combined with the way he’s whining, the way he’s rambling on about how good you feel, how perfect you are - the way his cock is stretching you, lengthy and thick - it all has you approaching yet another climax.

“Christ,” you manage. “Jayce, I’m going to cum again.”

Jayce whimpers, his pace halting for a moment.

“Tell - tell me where to cum,” he clenches out. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Inside,” you breathe. “I- It’s safe. Cum inside me.”

He thrusts harder into you - thrusts that have you clenching around him - and groans, biting your shoulder and cums inside you.

You’re quick to follow him into your third orgasm, legs tightening around his waist, one hand fisting in his hair, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you. 

It goes quiet for a moment after that as the two of you recover, shaking, coming down from your respective climaxes.

Your mouth is incredibly dry, and you find yourself swallowing hard, trying to catch your breath. Pushing loose strands of hair out of Jayce’s face, you laugh a little, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“That was pretty fucking good,” you tell him. “Want to go another round?”

Jayce laughs with you, burying his face in your neck.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just… give me five minutes.”

[mischievous-piltovan]

Bright and Glorious

Story type: CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure) Pairing: Jayce x Reader (they/them) x Viktor Rating: SFW Synopsis: You receive a note under your apartment door. It's from Jayce: "I would like to speak to you privately tonight. See you at the party. - Jayce." A/N: See below the cut for the rest of the story. ----------

Prologue

"I would like to speak to you privately tonight. See you at the party. - Jayce."

Taking a sip of coffee from your mug, you re-read the note you found at your dormitory's doorstep. You mindlessly turned the paper around, even though you had already concluded there was no more information you could have missed - the slip of paper was far too small for that.

You sighed, it was very unusual for Jayce to be this secretive. The last two years of working alongside HexTech had proven that the Golden-boy of boyish charm was very open and honest, not missing a beat when it came to letting himself and his ideas known - a trait that, although a bit obnoxious at first, proved to be quite efficient once you learned how to navigate it. Much like a big dog that believed he was still a puppy, Jayce was boisterous and made his presence known - the reason why he chose this method of silent, even delicate, communication eluded you.

Choose Your Own Adventure Story Otome Game/Visual Novel Version Google Doc raw version