FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED - JAYVIK X READER
synopsis: you've always been a good girl. You got amazing grades in school, participated in extra-curricular activities, you volunteered at the local food bank. You were everyone's dream daughter or potential daughter-in-law. You even wore a purity ring on a chain every day. You were allowed to do this since you were a nervous wreck when your parents first gifted you the ring and you were so scared you were going to lose it.
You were the perfect daughter. Until your church introduced two young, handsome priests. Father Viktor and Father Jayce.
warnings: religion (I'm roman catholic pls leave me alone with my dirty fantasies) power imbalance, age difference (reader is 19, J + V are early 30s), corruption kink, innocence kink (girly they go feral when they see the purity ring necklace), loss of virginity, voice kink, hand kink, inappropriate thoughts, mentions of masturbation, confessional, dirty talk, pussyjob, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, risky sex, squirting, semi-public sex (you're at the church but it’s not busy.) two smut scenes (VxR and JxR, the end suggests a threesome), J + V got big dicks, Grammarly is my beta
genre: m/f (m/m/f suggested at the end)
p.s. I know I don't want to seem like a horny degenerate but this was too good to pass up! If anyone wants fluff, angst, etc. shoot me a request and I'll write it as soon as I can!
PART 2
You've always been a good girl. You got amazing grades in school, participated in extra-curricular activities, you volunteered at the local food bank. You were everyone's dream daughter or potential daughter-in-law. You even wore a purity ring on a chain around your neck every day. You were allowed to do this since you were a nervous wreck when your parents first gifted you the ring; you were terrified you were going to lose it.
You wear modest clothes every day. A mixture of pants, long skirts (no shorter than just below the knee), button-ups, cardigans, sweaters, long-sleeve shirts, dresses, and the odd high-neck t-shirt. You have to have at least one option when the weather gets hot.
Luckily for you, you weren't picked on in school. But at the same time, you didn't have many friends. People liked you because you’re kind and helpful, but they didn't want to become friends because of how modest and prude you were. They were nervous you’d rat them out if they did something “immoral.”
Life went on as normal. The same old same old. You graduated top of your class two years ago, you just recently got a certificate to be a librarian in a little over a month of work, and you got a modest job at your local library due to glowing references, and the older ladies at the library love you. It's your home away from home.
And you still go to church every Sunday. This Sunday was different though. You knew from the service that was held two weeks ago that Father Paul was going to retire. He had gotten too old to do the necessary duties of a priest, and that he was going to find his replacement before he left.
And it looks like he did.
If you have anything to say about the two, young, handsome men standing behind the altar. Wearing the traditional black uniform and white collar.
You feel like your heart is in your throat as Father Paul introduces the two new priests to the congregation. The two men are… very handsome.
Father Paul gestures to one of the men. He's tall, with long hair, beautiful bone structure, and the most captivating eyes you've ever seen. He's holding a cane in one of his hands. Father Paul says his name is Father Viktor.
The elderly man then gestures on the other side of himself to the other man standing there. He's even taller than Father Viktor, bulkier too. His shoulders are broad, his hair is messy, and he has a beard. Father Paul introduces him as Father Jayce.
You subconsciously clench your thighs together as an unknown heat travels down your stomach and into your private bits.
Oh no, you can't help but think to yourself. This isn't going to end well.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Church on Sundays became very popular. Like… ridiculously popular. You saw people at church that you haven't seen since you graduated high school two years ago.
Father Viktor is leading the sermon. His voice was loud, clear, and captivating. His accent made every word sound like it was dripping honey. Before you know it, its time to take the holy communion and the blood of Christ. You rise up from kneeling on the pew and brush imaginary dust off your simple black skirt. You adjust your small black cardigan, and nervously look down at your white button up. Everytime you've ever worn white, you somehow dirty it and it always ruins your mood.
When it's your turn to reach the end of the pew, you curtsey and do the sign of the cross. Your skirt lightly touches the ground. As you follow in line to receive the body of Christ, you silently pray you don’t fall. Before you know it, it’s your turn; and you’re face to face with Father Viktor.
He holds up a small circular piece of bread and calmly states, “The Body of Christ.” You kneel and say, “Amen.” After that, you open your mouth and lightly stick your tongue out. Father Viktor’s hand goes under your chin as he raises your head, and he lightly places the Eucharist onto your tongue. You close your mouth and Father Viktor’s eyes darken as he swallows lightly.
You stand up and after a few steps, you stand in front of Father Jayce for the blood of Christ. The two priests share a look and it’s almost as if they sighed in relief. Only adults can obtain the blood of Christ.
Father Jayce holds up an ornate chalice, “The Blood of Christ.” You smile and repeat, “Amen.” Father Jayce then brings the chalice to your lips and you take a small swig of the wine. You then walk away doing the sign of the cross as you return to your pew.
Your undies are wet and you don’t know why.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It’s been weeks and you feel like you’re going insane. Every moment of every day, Father Viktor and Father Jayce are on your mind. They even plague your dreams.
Your undies get wet, your breathing gets heavy, and your body heats up. You’ve started touching yourself to the thought of them.
It feels so good.
It feels so wrong.
You need to speak to someone about this, but how can you? Your parents will have a meltdown, and you don’t have any friends. You sit in your room stumped before an idea comes to mind. Confessional.
You quickly get dressed into a neutral plaid skirt that just brushes your knees with black pantyhose, a plain black top, and your black loafers. You make sure your purity ring necklace is centred and protected under your shirt before exiting your house. You get into your car and drive to the church.
It’s not too late, just past dinner time. No one will be at the church, except for you and one of the Fathers.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The parking lot is empty, save for a few cars for the church workers. You park and exit the car, quickly making your way inside.
You appreciate the beauty of the church before finding an empty confessional and ringing a small bell, letting the priests know that someone was waiting for them.
After a few minutes of silence, the other end of the confessional opens up and a priest steps in. It’s hard to tell which priest it is. The lighting is too dark to see.
“Peace be with you.” The priest states. Damn. You can’t even tell which one it is due to their voice, the confessional muffles it too much.
You lightly sigh, “And also with your spirit. It’s been a month since my last confession, Father.”
“And what do you need to confess for?”
Your lips press together as you try to find a way to say this without sounding bad. You can’t. So you decide to be blunt.
“I’ve had lust in my heart, Father. For two men I cannot have. They’re constantly on my mind throughout the day, and plague my dreams when I sleep. I—“
You hesitate to say the next part. You can feel your face heat up as you stutter the next sin, “I touch myself… to— to the thought of them, Father.”
The other side of the confessional is quiet and you feel like crying. Eventually, the priest responds with, “And who are these two men? Are they someone you shall not covet? Such as someone who is married? Someone you’re related to?”
You gulp.
“Someone who is devoted to only one, and that one is God.”
The confessional becomes quiet at that. Before you know it, the door to your side of the confessional is opened. You gasp at the sight of a disheveled Father Viktor. His hair is messy, falling out of the small bun at the back of his head. His face is flushed and his pupils are huge. There’s a small snarl on his face.
“Is this some kind of joke? Do you wish to tempt me to defile you?”
Your eyes widen, “No Father! I speak the truth. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry for my thoughts and desires!”
Father Viktor enters your side of the confessional booth and closes the door behind him. The booth is just big enough to do small adjustments in; but you’re chest to chest with the beautiful priest.
“Say no, and we can pretend this never happened. You can go home and nothing will have changed.”
You nervously bite your lower lip and Father Viktor growls at that, “And… if I say yes?”
Father Viktor crowds you, until you have no room to move and whispers in your ear, “Then you shall become mine.”
A whimper escapes your lips and that’s all the answer Father Viktor needs. He turns your head and kisses you, it’s passionate, it’s frenzied. It’s a little messy.
It’s perfect.
You pant against his mouth as he touches your skirt, “May I?” You nod vigorously and he hikes the skirt up to your waist, ordering you to hold it there with one hand. You can’t help but comply.
Viktor groans when he sees you’re wearing pantyhose. He grabs the seem at your crotch and rips it, causing a gasp to escape your throat. Your undies get even more wet. A diligent finger taps lightly on the soaked fabric, so soaked you might as well not even be wearing it. The thin, white cotton has gone damn near translucent due to your arousal.
The gusset of your undies is pushed to the side as the handsome priest touches you in places you’ve only started to recently touch yourself.
He rubs your clit until it’s pulsing needily. He drags a finger down and teases your entrance, Father Viktor brings his face close to yours; so that as he speaks his lips brush against your own.
“Can I—”
Before he can even finish his sentence, you whine out a small yes.
Father Viktor chuckles and puts his middle finger into your pussy. It's so much longer and thicker than your own. It's reaching places you didn't even know existed.
“You need to learn patience, darling. What if I wanted to shove my cock into you instead, hmm? I'm not sure you can even handle two of my fingers.”
A whiny moan is what he gets in return to his scolding, “I can take two fingers. You heard me in confessional, I've been touching myself constantly now.”
Father Viktor growls at that and starts to finger your pussy faster, a schlick sound is heard throughout the confessional. Eventually, he adds a second finger and rubs your clit with his thumb. You’re gonna cum. You're gonna cum on the hand and fingers of one of the most handsome men you've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Every time you go to church and obtain the body of Christ you'll remember how fucking good those fingers felt inside you.
At your dirty thoughts, you cum. Trying to muffle your squeal into the palm of your hand not holding up your skirt. Father Viktor fingers you through your orgasm, and licks his fingers clean when he's done.
You feel a large bulge on your hip, “Do you want any help with that?”
Father Viktor chuckles, “You can't handle too much more, but there is one thing you can do.” he calmly states as he undoes his belt and lightly pulls down his pants and boxers; showing off an impressive dick.
Ok, no wonder he said you can't do much. His dick is massive and you're in a cramped confessional. Not much wiggle room.
Father Viktor slaps his cock against your clit and you gasp, “I'll just rut into your pussy until I cum. Is that okay with you?”
You bite your lip trying and failing to hide your smile, “Mmhm.”
He smiles and slowly starts to rock his dick into your folds. The head of his cock brushes against your clit in such a delicious manner, you won’t be surprised if you cum again.
“Hmm, what’s this?” Father Viktor asks as he notices the chain hidden beneath your shirt. The hand he used to finger you comes up and softly takes hold of the chain, pulling it out of your top to lay outside for once.
His eyes widen and his hips stutter once he realizes what he's looking at, “Is that a purity ring?”
You furrow your eyebrows, “Yes?” your tone questioning as it raises in pitch.
The older man groans in an almost feral way before resuming his rutting, going much faster and harder than he was before, “You’re a filthy fucking virgin. Letting a man over a decade older than you rut into your pussy like a common whore.”
You're feeling too much of everything right now. Everything comes to a standstill when the tip of Father Viktors cock catches on the entrance of your pussy. Father Viktor brings a hand down to rub vigorously at your clit and you yelp as you cum for a second time. This time a little dribble of arousal escapes you.
Father Viktor groans as he cums inside you, it’s so warm, and there's so much of it.
You both pant and Father Viktor gives you a final kiss before you both have to clean up to go, this one is much sweeter.
You readjust your underwear and cringe at the cold, wet sensation, you drop your skirt and you ironically thank god that your skirt is long enough that no one else can see the damaged pantyhose.
Viktor redoes his belt and fixes his hair. He exits the confessional and offers out a hand to you, you take it gladly.
You notice his cane is leaning against the outside of the confessional and gasp in worry, “Father, are you okay? I forgot you used a cane. Are you in any pain?”
Father Viktor just smiles at you, “The confessional booth was small enough that I didn't have to worry about moving too much or falling. But thank you for the concern. Also, after what we just did, you can call me Viktor.”
Father— Viktor’s smile turns into a smirk, “Drive safe darling. This Sundays mass shall be quite interesting, don’t you think?”
You giggle as you make your way to the door.
Your footsteps stop when you hear Viktor call out your name, “Shall I tell Father Jayce your confession, or will you do it yourself?”
You coyly look back over your shoulder as you open the churches doors, “You can tell him. I'm curious to see what his reaction will be.”
The last thing you hear before the church doors close is Viktor’s chuckles.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The next Sunday mass you go to, you feel as if you have eyes on you the entire few hours you’re there. Every time you look up from your prayer, your singing, your kneeling on the pew, you see Viktor and Father Jayce looking at you.
They’re being subtle. They have to be. If they get caught staring lecherously at a young woman who's over a decade their junior, they'll be the town paraiah.
Everything goes smoothly until the end of mass. When everyone is leaving, Father Jayce lightly calls your name. “Are you able to stay behind? Father Viktor has had a flare-up of pain and I require a second set of hands to clean up the altar and the pews.”
You lightly chew on the inside of your cheek and shuffle on your feet. You think on it for a few seconds before shyly nodding your head. Father Jayce smiles, he has dimples; and his crows feet deepen the slightest bit. He has a small gap between his two front teeth.
Not only is Father Jayce handsome, he's... Cute.
The two of you break apart, going pew to pew, row to row, cleaning up as you go.
You raise the kneelers, place the bibles back on their shelf, pick up little pieces of garbage and bring them to the garbage bin near the front doors of the church.
“Are you done? I need some assistance cleaning up the altar.”
You turn around and hum, slowly walking to the back of the church, going up the few steps to the altar where Father Jayce is waiting for you.
The altar honestly isn't too messy. You just need put away the candles, the candle holders, the wine, the bread, and the lectionary. The massive book the priest reads from during mass.
Before you know it, the altar is cleaned, except for the wine.
“How did you think of mass today?” Father Jayce asks, as he fondles his rosary. You lightly gulp, “It was good. I enjoyed it.”
Father Jayce hums, “I’m glad. You're a very… good person.”
You feel your brows furrow in subconscious confusion, “Thank… you?”
The handsome man purses his lips as he saunters towards you, wrapping his hand around the wine pitcher and dragging it alongside him on top of the altar, “But you're not purely good, are you? No. You sin. Your perfected image is so ingrained into this towns mind that they can't imagine you in any other way.”
Your breath hitches as you lean back onto the altar, trying to put some distance between you two. Father Jayce crowds you against the altar, he's much bigger than you. It’s startling.
It’s arousing.
“You know, Father Viktor told me all about the the little rendezvous you two had. I thought he was joking, maybe he had a dirty dream. Because there’s no way such an innocent, good girl did that within the church. Within a confessional.”
You bite your lip and look down, Father Jayce tilts your head back up with a single finger under your chin. He brings the wine pitcher up to his mouth and takes a large swig.
“But I know he was telling the truth.”
“How?”
“The way you look at us is how the Devil tries to tempt the innocent, and Father Viktor and I are not.”
You gasp when Father Jayce brings the pitcher to your mouth and taps your bottom lip a few times. The glass is cold, and the wine is sweet.
But it’s not as sweet as the way Father Jayce’s eyes darken as you take a gulp of wine.
The pitcher is slammed onto the altar and Father Jayce gives you a passionate kiss. You sigh and lightly open your mouth, and Father Jayce’s tongue caresses your own.
Your arms wrap around him, your hands carding into the hair at the base of his neck. He growls and grips your waist, hiking you up onto the altar.
A gasp escapes your lips, he's so strong. Father Jayce parts your legs at your knees, your dress riding up to an almost obscene level.
His hands drag up your thighs to your hips under your dress, his fingers curling into the sides of your underwear.
“May I?”
“Yes. Please.”
With that, Father Jayce pulls down your underwear, unhooking it from your feet and putting them into his black slacks. He drops down to his knees and you grab his hair in shock.
No way. He's not going to— is he…?
Yes he is, he brings his face close to your core and licks from your entrance to your clit. You jolt, gripping his hair harder as you moan out in pleasure.
He groans and the vibrations make you want to cry. He starts to focus all his attention onto your clit, as he slowly fingers you. The double combo is dangerous. Your pussy is drenched, your face is hot, and your back is curling. Your thighs clutch around Father Jayce’s head and he goes even harder.
Your vision whites out and you cum. Hard. Father Jayce kitten licks you through your orgasm and eventually you shove his head lightly away due to the oversensitivity.
Father Jayce stands up and kisses you, his lips and beard are lightly damp. You feel embarrassed and aroused at that knowledge.
“Take it off.” Father Jayce orders, gesturing to your sage green dress. You gulp, and slowly raise the hem over your head. Your flats have fallen off your feet during your pussy getting ate.
Now you're sitting on the church's altar, only in your basic white cotton bra. Father Jayce is still fully clothed. “All of it.” he demands.
You bring your hands behind you to your back and unhook your bra, your breasts now free for Father Jayce to appreciate.
He unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his slacks and lowers it just enough to free his cock. His cock is also massive.
Jesus Christ, your priests are hung.
Father Jayce lines up his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes in, you moan, your voice cracking at the immense feeling of pleasure. He’s stretching you so much, you’re so full. There’s a minuscule pinch but Father Jayce prepped you so well, there’s barely any pain.
Your parents made it sound like you’d die.
Father Jayce groans deep in his chest when he sees a few speckles of blood on his cock, your arousal making his entire dick shimmer in the lowlight of the church.
“Such a dirty girl. Getting fucked in public by a man who’s over a decade older than her, and giving her virginity to him. You’re a goddamn gem.”
You moan at his words, god you’re fucking soaked. His cock keeps hitting your g-spot, and you can’t help but lay back against the altar. Your tits jiggle as Father Jayce fucks you. He slowly starts to go harder and harder. Fucking you to the point where your skin slaps together.
The altar is shaking, you're moaning, and then Father Jayce grips your hair and turns you over. You plop your hands onto the altar as Father Jayce pulls your head back.
If someone were to enter the church now, they'd see Father Jayce fucking the shit out of a woman as her tits bounce and she moans out in pure pleasure.
Your purity ring necklace bounces with each thrust.
“Fuck. Father! You feel so— so fucking good!”
He chuckles, “I’m balls deep in you right now, sweetheart. You can call me Jayce.”
“Jayce! Fuck!”
Without you noticing, Jayce unhooks your purity ring necklace and it bounces down on to the altar, the metal making a small tinkling sound.
“W— what?”
“You don't need that anymore, sweetheart. You’re mine now, and Viktors.”
With that declaration, you shove your hand in between your thighs and viciously rub your clit. One circle, two, and then you're cumming again, and this time a gush of arousal escapes your pussy.
Jayce moans and pounds into you, before going as deep as he can as he cums inside you. You can feel each pulse of his cock as he dumps his cum into you.
You sigh at the feeling, fuck it feels so good.
Jayce sighs and drops his head down onto your shoulder, he sucks a few hickeys into your neck as he pulls out. You feel some of his cum drip down your thighs.
You pant as Jayce fixes himself and then helps you get re-dressed. You two look somewhat presentable when a very familiar accented voice echoes out into the church.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, V. You're right on time.”
“It was a good show.”
You freeze, “Wait… you could see us?”
Viktor nods, “The personal office has a perfect view.”
You laugh in disbelief.
“So,” Viktor continues, “Are we only ever able to see you within the house of god?”
Jayce chuckles as your face heats up, “No. I'm more than willing to see you two outside of the church.”
With that, Viktor smirks and hands you a small slip of paper with an address written on it, “This is where we live. Hopefully, the next time we see one another, it's within the privacy of our home. That way we can see how loud you can truly get.”
You smile at the two handsome men. They've truly ruined you for anyone else.
Hallelujah praise the lord! This was filthy and I hope y’all enjoy it! Priest Viktor and Jayce would be so hot, I’d start going to church if they were there LMAO
I started writing this when I was certain JayVik x Reader was going to win on my poll (I know cause I voted for other to see which the percentages, I was too impatient to wait 23hrs 💀)
Can you write what happens when a female reader teases Viktor, Jayce and Ekko too much?
What happens? All the good things, all the horny things.
Pairing: Viktor, Jayce Talis, Ekko x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, dry humping, teasing, blowjobs, sex against the wall, jealousy, sex toys, being dominated
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: Such a joy to be writing for Arcane again.
It was late at night when you finally managed to drag him out of the lab. He could stay in there until morning if you let him, frustrated with not being able to find a solution to the problem he was working on. Wasn't any easier when you kept kissing his neck and pulling his thoughts in other directions.
Really it was a miracle that you even made it to the door of his room before you found yourself pressed against it and Viktor's cock firm against your ass. Instead of his crutch he found balance against your hips, his hands grabbing at you as he rolled his hips in a nearly desperate stutter.
Might have been payback but you swear you felt him grin against your neck right before his lips pressed against that weak point, your pulse drumming in your ears and against his mouth. He couldn't wait, he didn't care about the routine patrols, all he wanted was to hear you moan his name in the, for now empty hallway.
"I do not care if we are caught. That wasn't a concern of yours when you were palming at my dick before, anyone could have walked into the lab. Now you protect when I press against you and pay you back for all that teasing? I'm afraid you pushed me a bit too far tonight, darling, tonight it won't be my fault if we don't get any sleep."
Fully intended on cleaning up after coming back from the forge but then he saw you on the bed, riding that huge as fuck dildo and he was jealous. Yes, jealous of a sex toy, because you were riding it instead of him while he had important work to do. It really wasn't fair if you ask him.
He pulled you against his body, still covered with sweat and soot and grime, his cock threatening to break through his pants. There was already a large stain forming on the front, proof of how horny, desperate and pissed off he was at you right now, but then again you were a lot more desperate, weren't you?
With his hands he made sure you stayed pressed up against him while he kept rutting against you. By now his pants were a soaked mess, not entirely from him either, from your pussy all but taunting him, urging him to fuck it raw and to not stop until you were both too sore to move.
"Know that I've been working a lot lately, babe, but I didn't think you'd go fuck a sex toy rather than wait for me. That hurts my feelings you know? Are you gonna be a good girl and make it up to me, are you gonna let me have what I want right now, what you also want? When I'm done you're gonna be too fucked out to even think about using any sex toys for a while."
The workshop he worked in wasn't soundproof. He should really look into getting that done because the amount of times he's had to keep quiet it getting out of hand. But he could also say the same for you, it was even more difficult for you, especially after you riled him up enough.
As the leader of the Firelights he had a certain image he needed to uphold, an image that crumbled under your touch so easily. Under your lips, the warm tightness of your throat, the teasing lick of your tongue, the slightly too firm grasp of your hand against the bottom of his cock, controlling his orgasm.
That smug cum-stained smile on your face had to go before he let you leave his workshop. Ekko wasn't embaressed by the fact that you sucked him off and made him come, he was determined to return the favor. Yes, he needed to make it discreet but he was too horny to wait.
"Voice down, okay firefly, and hold still until I get my dick in you. I know that it's a bit awkward while standing against the desk like this but I can't exactly get naked with you right now. That'll happen later, for now let me take my sweet time with you. Need to make you come at least once before we leave."
notes: the same prompt has also been written before by my beloved @moonlight-in-the-sea here!! observe it or perish.
VIKTOR, all scepticism and sharp edges, raised eyebrows and discontent twitches of his lip when it comes to interacting with most people, has long learned to be open and honest with you. It's been a bit of a work in progress, the two of you growing closer over time, a natural development, but it's certainly paid out — his open expression and warm smile whenever he's with you makes your chest feel tight with affection, as does the fact that he has let his guards down completely, discussing just about every topic with you, ranging from the kinks of new inventions he still had to figure out, to gossip about the councillors. His humour blooms around you and Jayce, becoming one of his most noticeable traits.
It's no secret that he's working more often than not, that he's eating and sleeping in the lab whenever you don't put a stop to it, but, as you grow closer, he makes sure to split his attention between his two greatest passions; you, and his work. It shows in multiple ways, either through him inviting you to come along and watch, proudly introducing the new hextech inventions to you, eyes shining brighter than blue stones, or him actually taking half a day off to spend with you instead, taking you out to explore Piltover's little shops or simply staying at home with you, all domestic bliss.
It's strikingly obvious to both you, and to everyone around you, that JAYCE is especially fond of you, given how much he's touching you. They're all innocent gestures, like his huge hand resting on your upper arm, or on the small of your back when the two of you walk next to each other, or the warm hug he pulls you into when seeing you for the first time that day, strong arms inescapable, but it happens too often to be a coincidence. Whether he himself knows he's doing it is debatable — your best guess is that it comes so naturally to him that he barely even notices.
He's surprisingly attentive when it comes to your wellbeing — it shows in him always having a blanket on hand, or him giving you his jacket, when you're cold, in him asking if you've eaten already and keeping foods you like around.
His family's work is forging, and even though he's not quite as used to working on something this delicate, he does extraordinarily well when it comes to making you jewellery, working every night until there's no flaws to be detected. He also asks Mel or Viktor — Mel, preferably; subtlety is more her strength — to figure out what kind of gemstones you prefer to use those in the design.
SILCO is a man who values privacy — and yet, he has no issue with you constantly hanging around his office. Really, he's weak enough for you that he might attempt to scold you when you sit on his desk, pushing important documents to the side, or even on his lap while he's working, claiming your rightful place, arms looped around his neck, but his words never come off as truly strict, tone exasperated, but he'd never do anything against it. At this point, his office is as much your space as it is his, given how your belongings lie around everywhere — your lipgloss on his desk, your spare jacket on his wall, your favourite snacks secretly stocked in his drawers.
He's strikingly loyal, never even looking twice at someone else, given how he can only see himself being with you. Silco's always thinking of you, which shows not only in the way he brings you small gifts and trinkets — not unlike a crow — whenever he has to traverse the Undercity, but also through him wanting to keep your relationship a secret. It's most likely a sensitive topic, because he doesn't want you to think he's ashamed of you, never, but he's an influential man, and he just cannot stand the idea of someone harming you because of your connection to him. He's terrified of losing you.
VANDER is caring by nature, it shows in the way he protects his children and friends, his loved ones, his people. Still, with you, it's all the more obvious. Whenever you make your way to the bar, spending nights and early mornings at The Last Drop, he has your favourite drink already poured for you, including any modifications and snacks you like. In his mind, there's a whole section of facts about you, including your favourite positions to sleep in, your most beloved outfits, and the food you always ask for at the street vendor the two of you usually visit, and he couldn't stop himself from constantly gaining more information about what you like and dislike if he tried.
He's fond of physical affection, both strong arms wrapped around your waist when the two of you are sleeping, or the large of his hand splayed out on your lower back when he's guiding you through the crowds gathering in the bar. Not only does he simply enjoy touching you, the person he loves so very close to him, but he also wants to know you're safe at all times — if any stranger approaches you, setting you on edge, he's right there by your side. At night, he might cling to you a bit more tightly than usual when he's had bad thoughts of losing you the day long.
SEVIKA is entirely smitten by you. It's obvious enough that some of her colleagues comment on it, laughing and jeering at the heart-eyes she gives you whenever you walk by, gaze lingering for way too long, roaming over the curves of your hip and the way your hair moves in the wind. She's not bothered by anyone poking fun at her; yeah, she's heads over heels for you. So what?
She also really enjoys listening to you talk. After a hard day of work, there's nothing more relaxing to her than simply focusing on you, on your voice, on the peculiar way you pronounce certain words, and when she rests her head in your lap, your fingers gently threading through her hair, she just wants you to ramble about whatever comes to your mind.
Compared to Vander, her protection of you is mostly verbal — though that does not mean she wouldn't punch a guy until he's coughing blood if he looked at you the wrong way. Still, she's influential, imposing enough with just a raised eyebrow and a warning word for almost anyone to turn, tail between their legs, when they're staring at you for even a moment too long.
⤠ loverboy texts you that he won't be done in the forge until late. you try to hide your disappointment. you're already dressed to the nines--a shimmery gold dress jayce bought for your for your anniversary last month sticks to your body like second skin. you were looking forward to partying it up with the kirammans. you move to take it off when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. heavily, you drag your feet to open it only to gasp in surprise when it's jayce. he stands in front of you, a sheepish smile on his face and pink dusting his cheeks and neck. he's in nothing but a simple white dress shirt, sleeves rucked up to his elbows. there's a hint of mechanic grease on his chin and you reach out to swipe it away, when he steps forward and pulls you close, apologising with a kiss. "what's that for?" you ask. he reveals what his other hand's hiding behind him: a bottle of champagne and a modest bag of fruits. "i thought we'd skip the party," he says, "stay here. watch the fireworks from over there." he nods at your balcony, the soft december breeze filtering through your room. "you said you'd be late," you accuse. he laughs. "i am. i wanted to come sooner, but i had meetings and then some and, well..." you don't know why you're still standing. you pull the man of progress in your room and the two of you steal kisses as you await the great clock to strike midnight.
VIKTOR
⤠ you've had plans since october. god knows viktor could never make enough time for himself to simply enjoy unless notified at least two months in advance. "nothing big," you promised him. with a roll of his eyes, he reaches forward with a free hand and kisses your forehead. "okay, láska." and exactly at eight pm on the dot, you show up at his flat, a bottle of wine and fresh sweetmilk rolls and grapes in tow. he lets you in, hair freshly damp from the shower. you make sure he's settled in before you set it up. you explain to him how your family rings in the new year: wishing on grapes and drunk. he laughs, wincing a little when the motion catches his back brace in a bad position. you reach over, brushing your thumb over his furrowed brows and he leans into your touch, kissing the insides of your wrist. "so," he says, accent thick and eyes heavy, "you brought the wine?" in the end, you didn't get to do your grapes until much, much later in the morning on new year's day after you wake up on viktor's bed, tangled in the sheets with him.
JINX
⤠ she swears to you that you'll get no better view of the piltie fireworks than above the cracks. she's waiting for you by the alley outside your workplace, gearing to go. you ask her if you need to bring anything yesterday and she grins, something mocking but rounded to sweet when she taps your nose. "just sturdy shoes and study old you," she sing-songs. as you climb up the treacherous cracks with her, you make good use of the shoes she told you to bring. you two finally make it up over the lanes and as you settle next to her, your breath leaves you forcefully. the view is beautiful. you can see the long stretch of roofs that make the end of zaun, the elevators, and the city of piltover. she nudges your shoulder and points with her arm to the councillor's building. "it'll be over there," she whispers. "colours like you've never seen!" the child-like wonder in her voice is what gets you. even if its minutes before midnight, you throw caution to the wind. what the hell, you thought as you turn and place your palm over her cheek. her blue eyes are wide, but she doesn't pull away as you lean in. when you kiss, you hear it behind you: the burst of fireworks, the cheer of children, and--best of all--jinx's relieved sigh against your lips.
Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader
Word Count; 4.9k
Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.
Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.
First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)
A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!
THIS IS NOT EDITED!
DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!
Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.
It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one.
The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it.
Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.
He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations.
Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed.
Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one.
He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried.
Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them.
Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?
Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Your voice.
His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him.
“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”
“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?
“Father?”
His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”
It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.
“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”
“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept.
Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one.
“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”
Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin.
Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch.
“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross.
You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”
Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”
“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”
Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”
“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”
“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”
There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly.
“How can I resist, Father?”
Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”
“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”
There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”
“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-
No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.
“So, you’ve confessed?”
Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”
“Liar.”
White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed.
“No-”
“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”
Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten.
His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his.
Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice
“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”
Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness.
Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing.
“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”
A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in.
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”
He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”
You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”
“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar.
“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?
“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”
Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-
“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid.
“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”
A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places.
“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”
“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”
Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat.
“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”
Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso.
He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading.
“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”
Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in.
He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.
“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence.
“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful.
“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”
“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip.
“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you.
“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”
“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat.
“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more.
“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”
Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side.
His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin.
Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside.
“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat.
He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat.
“Be quiet, Jayce.”
Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned.
“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”
You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”
“What?-”
“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front.
“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”
Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-
“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”
Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.
“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”
Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven-
Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?
You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”
Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”
“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”
Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place.
Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”
He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other.
You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”
He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice.
“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit.
“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”
His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening.
With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks.
It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.
His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs.
Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue.
“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-
“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin.
Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him.
“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit.
The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.
“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”
He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible.
“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace.
There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air.
“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers.
“Jayce-”
“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about?
His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders.
“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”
He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you.
“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”
“You can finish father, come on-”
“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer.
“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”
Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.
He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling.
Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him.
Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face.
Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak.
A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.
“Father?”
Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.
synopsis: where jayce becomes a teacher after the arcane exploded and you play around with his head <3
tw: not canon, jayce (and viktor obviously) live after the arcane explosion, he’s 32 and reader is 20, inspired by lana del rey idk if that makes sense, suggestive, power abuse if you squint, trauma mentions, etc.
teacher!jayce who you met in your first class of rune knowledge, finding his broad shoulders and tall frame attractive since minute one.
teacher!jayce who never bothered to cut his hair or even shave after the incident, too busy studying ways to understand what happened that day.
teacher!jayce who happens to be very messy when it comes to anything. his desk is covered in exams and projects ready to correct, coffee stains on the table.
teacher!jayce who gives you back your hextech project with one of said stains, giving you an apologetic look, almost resembling a stray puppy.
⠀ ⠀ “that’s okay, professor, don’t you worry.” you reassured the man with a manicured hand covering his shoulder, giving him a little squeeze that he ended up noticing.
⠀ ⠀ “you did an excellent job with this one, i’m proud of you.” he answered with a tender voice, smiling wide enough to see the gap between his teeth.
teacher!jayce who you’ve heard never been the same ever since the incident. he used to be always excited, bright as the sun itself, lighting up every room he stepped in. the man of progress, the golden boy.
teacher!jayce who’s a lot more mature now, more muted but still a warm presence. people attach this to some traumas he might’ve developed in the past.
teacher!jayce who’s not oblivious on how you manage to wear the stoic academy uniform in the cutest way possible, having it sewed so the skirt is way shorter and the shirt way tighter.
teacher!jayce who’s just a man, at the end of the day.
teacher!jayce who gives you an special treatment; you’re his favorite, teacher’s pet, and he’s not really good at hiding it.
⠀ ⠀ “but it’s pouring outside! can’t you just make an exception, professor?” a classmate yelled from the back of the room, you rolled your eyes at his tone.
⠀ ⠀ “i am really sorry, but the council made clear that the classrooms must be empty during breaks.” he stated, brushing his long hair back while siting on the edge of his desk. “you may leave now, you should get going to the cafeteria.” he ended with a tender smile as he pointed the big exit.
everyone left the classroom annoyed by the teacher’s orders, and you were no different. while packing your things and making your way to the big wooden doors he stopped you by holding your hand, still sat down.
⠀ ⠀ “I didn’t say anything about you, did I?” he inquires, gaining a small chuckle in response from you. he pulled your hand so you stood closer to him, almost feeling his breath fanning against your forehead.
you locked gazes with him, starring at his honey-like eyes before pulling away. he smirked at your actions, bending around to grab the back of his seat and pulling it close to you.
you took note on how his biceps flexed at the force he made and how his thighs became bigger against the wood, siting down when he looked at you again.
during brake, you would be siting on his chair while munching on your breakfast as he looked at you sipping on his coffee, rubbing momentarily his leg against your arm as you both talked about banal things.
teacher!jayce who doesn’t deny you anything, not a good grade, he doesn’t deny when you ask to do the group project alone or when you request his help after class.
a/n: first arcane writing yay! ( ੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭ I’ve been a victim of the jayvik brainroot since s2, I can’t get them out of my head lawrd.
hearing him laugh might have been the most melodious and joyful tone she had ever heard in her life. he lit up everything with this bright light that just seemed to make everything around him fade. a smile that big and a laugh that loud looked so at home in his body.
he was a north star. a guiding golden light, that caressed everything it came in contact with. she hated that he hid this glorious light so well. stowed it away, kept secret and protected. but she was one of the only ones who knew the secret now. she felt special. she knew now how his eyes crinkled close and his nose scrunched. how his smile stretched his cheeks and his hand held his chest and the laugh shook his whole body. how he gave so much of himself to joy at that moment that he was left out of breath and with tears in his eyes when he looked back at her.
the smile still lingering, the energy vibrating around them, pushing her feet up finding herself drawn to him, almost in a trance. gently announcing her closeness with a hand caressing his cheek, guiding him to look at her as she wrapped her other hand around the nape of his neck. she kissed him. hoping this electric joy could be transferred by touch. she wanted to be electrocuted.
