Sleeping Beside Toji Means That Your Head Will Always Be Touching Some Part Of His Body. It's Intentional.

So if i said..... Rejecting shaunas advances because shes in her scary cave woman era and you like natalie, what then?

(DONT MAKE HER KILL ME PRETTY PLEASE)

ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ | ɴ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1034

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴇʟʟ. ɴᴀᴛ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴀᴛᴀʟɪᴇ ꜱᴄᴀᴛᴏʀᴄᴄɪᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ).

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ.

Shauna cornered you just as you stepped away from the firepit, cutting you off near the edge of the trees. Her arms crossed tight over her chest like she was trying to hold herself back, like if she didn’t, she might say or do something she couldn’t take back. Her eyes burned into yours, sharp and steady.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Natalie lately,” she said, voice low, like it was a threat.

You shifted uncomfortably, brushing a pine needle off your sleeve. “We’ve been trading cigarettes. Talking.”

Shauna scoffed. “Right. Talking.”

There was a silence that stretched too long. The kind that made your skin crawl. You tried to step around her, but she mirrored you, blocking the path again, closer this time. Her eyes flicked down your face, lingering like she was memorizing your features or cataloging everything she thought belonged to her.

“You don’t have to play games,” she said. “Not with me.”

“I’m not,” you replied carefully, not sure what she thought was happening here, but you could feel it building, that thing she did when she got too still, too serious, like a storm winding up inside her. “Shauna, I think you’re—”

“I see how you look at me,” she interrupted. “How you don’t look away when I stare at you. How you let me touch your stuff. You don’t let anyone else do that.”

You swallowed. “That doesn’t mean I want—”

Shauna stepped in, just a breath away now, her voice low and tight. “I want you.”

It stunned you, not because it was a surprise, Shauna didn’t exactly hide the way she acted around you, but because she said it so plainly, like it was a fact.

You blinked. Took a breath. Then shook your head, gentle but firm. “Shauna, I like Nat.”

Her face didn’t change at first. Not even a flicker. But then something in her eyes shifted like someone had slammed a door shut behind them.

She let out a bitter little laugh, dry and mean. “Of course you do.”

“I’m sorry—“

She didn’t answer; she just tilted her head like she was trying to see through you. “You should be sorry. You think she’s safer? You think she’s better for you?”

“Shauna, It’s not about that.”

“No,” she said, “it’s not. Because if it was, you’d want me.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know what to say. You’d never seen her like this, vulnerable, but too angry to admit it. She stepped back finally, just enough space for you to breathe.

“Go ahead,” she said coldly. “Be with Nat, but don’t come crawling into my bed when she gets bored of you.”

“Shauna…”

She turned on her heel, walking out towards the woods, away from camp, stiff and silent. She didn’t say another word. But you could feel her fury burning behind you, even when she disappeared into the trees.

⸻

It takes a while for your hands to stop shaking.

Shauna’s words echo long after she’s gone. Her voice, sharp and bitter, sticks under your skin like a splinter. Not because she was wrong. Because she wasn’t. You had looked back at her. Let her in closer than you probably should have. But you never meant it like that.

You wrap your arms around yourself and sit on a log near the edge of camp, just out of reach of the fire. There’s a dull ache in your shoulders from being tensed up too long, and your breath still feels uneven.

That’s when you hear boots crunching under the leaves just outside of camp.

You tense, thinking maybe Shauna had come back. But your worries are eased with you look up.

It’s Natalie.

Her silhouette’s a little lazy in the dim light, relaxed, hands in her pockets like she wasn’t looking for anything, just wandering. But her eyes catch on you, and you know instantly that she was looking for you.

“You okay?” she asks, crouching beside you. Her voice is rough like always, but not unkind.

You blink quickly and look away. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Bullshit.”

You let out a weak laugh and shake your head.

She sits beside you now, resting her arms on her knees. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You glance toward the tree line, where Shauna had disappeared earlier. “It’s… nothing.”

Natalie hums low in her throat. “So ‘nothing’ has you shaking and looking over your shoulder every five minutes?”

You don’t answer right away.

She shifts closer, shoulder to shoulder now. Not in a pushy way. Just there. Solid. Warm.

You exhale slowly. “Shauna was… mad.”

“Shauna’s always mad.”

You snort. “Yeah, but this was different.”

She tilts her head slightly. “What’d she say?”

You hesitate. You could tell her. About Shauna’s crush. About the way she cornered you like you belonged to her. About how intense it was, and how you didn’t hate it but you couldn’t say yes either, not when the only person you’ve been thinking about lately is her.

You glance at Natalie, really looking at her. Her face is soft in the orange hue of the firelight. There’s a small cut healing just under her cheekbone and a bit of dirt smudged near her jaw, but she’s still the prettiest thing out here. She’s got that calm-under-pressure vibe that makes you want to lean into her, just to feel steady again.

You swallow. “She got the wrong idea about something. I told her I didn’t feel the same.”

Natalie raises a brow but doesn’t push. “And?”

“She didn’t take it well.”

“Shocker.”

There’s silence between you for a moment. Then Nat nudges your knee with hers. “You alright?”

You nod slowly and lean against her shoulder. “Yeah. Now I am.”

She doesn’t move away. Just lets you rest your head on her, breathing slow and steady.

After a few seconds of silence, she speaks.“You know, for what it’s worth… if she gives you shit again, I’ve got your back.”

You smile against her sleeve. “Thanks.”

She shrugs. “Least I can do.”

You stay there for a while, enjoying the quiet warmth. What’s going on between you and Nat doesn’t have a name yet. But you both know it’s something.

THE DAD WHO STEPPED UP! jjk smau

in which you're not home to send your kid off to their dads house for the weekend so your husband has to.

gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso, and takuma

content: sfw, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex), multi-character, they're all step pappies :0 and do NOT like your ex.

a/n: requests open! don't forget to like and reblog (･ω･´)

₊˚ʚ 🌱 little sunshines au. masterlist

a jjk au where domestic fluff and parenthood are the main tropes.

fluff‐parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ non sorcerer/curse au, domesticity, use of nicknames for the babies (nugget, mochi, squirt), mom!reader, mentions of pregnancy

all kids remain unnamed, apart from the already existing ones

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ɢᴏᴊᴏ sᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

head of the gojo clan. after marrying his wife, he locked her in his estate with him. she ended up popping three healthy babies in the span of five years.

notes:

his precious mochi consist of two boys, aged 5 and 2 years old, and an eight month old baby girl—the three of them look like satoru

your two boys are huge fans of 'fishies'

kiss it better

something's fishy

mama's day

crybaby

—

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ɢᴇᴛᴏ sᴜɢᴜʀᴜ

the geto residence had been nothing but a girly sanctuary for the past few years. suguru, as the only man, faced a harsh reality check when the latest addition to his family, a baby boy, stole the hearts of every girl in his home.

notes:

suguru is so used to handling girls that he's still a bit lost with his little boy

the baby wants you all the time, and suguru is a little sad that he's not being favored

joyride

—

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴛᴏᴊɪ

his biggest nightmare came true once his baby girl began to talk. she keeps him on his toes, a little princess that easily empties her daddy's wallet by asking for toys—expensive ones.

notes:

your baby girl wants to do everything you do: hair, makeup, nails. toji grows a gray hair each time she demands to get her tiny toes painted like mama

tsumiki (6) likes to say that the baby (2) is her doll, and little megumi (4) makes sure his puppies watch over his baby sister while she naps

!! technically speaking, toji's still a zenin + megumi and tsumiki are yours. so they'll be referenced as the zenin's/zenin kids !!

strawberry shortcake

copycat

—

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ sᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ

his home has not known peace ever since his wife gave birth to their twins, a boy and a girl. he barely made it out of the 'terrible twos' unscathed, but now that they're three and way more talkative, he's starting to reconsider his life decisions.

notes:

the boy is a menace, always play fighting with his dad, while the girl is shy and cries around him

both toddlers get pretty calm and soft around you. sukuna says you hexed them

!! for the sake of the plot, sukuna is jin's brother, making him an itadori. choso and yuuji are step brothers (choso is kaori's son) !!

uncle yuuji

ugly mornings

mall santa

—

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ

preschool teacher with a concerning amount of patience. all of the kids know him because he's their art and crafts teacher, a very popular class among the children.

notes:

first grade (2-3 year olds): itadori twins, gojo's youngest son, and zenin's youngest daughter.

second grade (4-5 year olds): gojo's eldest son, megumi, and yuuji.

third grade (6 year olds): tsumiki, nanako, and mimiko.

first day

Clan head!Gojo

♡ — Gojo is drunk and he misses you. He doesn’t seem to understand that you are sitting right in front of him.

“. . . and sh-she’s so talented and pretty . . . my pretty girl . . . you gotta meet her.” SATORU GOJO cocked his head to the side, grinning; his flushed cheeks and ears were a deep shade of red.

The tall man’s legs were outstretched. He was slumped over the arm of your couch, and though he looked like he was on the brink of falling asleep, he continued to ramble on, on, and on.

“Who’s pretty?” You questioned your drunk boyfriend with worry, folding your arms across your chest.

“My girl . . . my baby . . . she’s so . . . I love her. I’m in love. I miss her. I need her.” Satoru’s grin fell into a frown.

Clumsily, he fumbled around until his hand found his phone in his pocket.

“Gonna call her,” he mumbled.

His bright phone screen illuminated his glossy eyes, and it didn’t take long for him to groan in frustration over not being sober enough to find his pretty girl’s contact.

Satoru reached across the coffee table, handing his phone to you.

“Can you call her? I love her so much,” Satoru was on the verge of tears. “I wanna marry my pretty girl.”

“Who am I calling?” Your voice was shaky. As you held his phone in your hands, you tried your hardest to prepare yourself for the worst — hearing Satoru slur out another name.

Satoru’s head snapped in your direction. Strands of his messy white hair fell every which way across his face, but you could still make out his eyebrows, which were pinched in confusion.

“Hmm,” Satoru paused, giving you a slow blink, “you’re not that bright. Everyone knows . . . everyone knows Y/N is mine . . . don’t you know that? She’s my baby.”

You couldn’t fight the urge to grin, nor did you want to.

“Can you hurry?” With a whine, Satoru started to sink down until he was laid out across the couch cushions. “I’m gonna die if you don’t hurry and call her, please. Call her-call Y/N.”

“I’m right here, Satoru,” you said.

He looked at you again, processing your face for a moment. He rolled his eyes.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No . . . you’re not.”

“Okay, you know what?” With a sigh, you dialed your own number and handed the phone back to Satoru. “Here.”

Satoru eagerly grabbed his phone, smiling ear to ear at the sheer anticipation of getting to talk to you.

Naturally, your phone started to ring, and you answered it, staring at your drunk boyfriend.

“Hello?” You mumbled.

“Y/N? I miss you . . . where are you?”

“I’m right here-”

“Hold on, baby.” Satoru suddenly pulled the phone away from his ear, and he shot you a tired glare. “Can you be quiet, please? I’m trying to . . . to talk to my girlfriend.”

Satoru rolled over onto his side, his back now facing you. He put the phone back up to his ear, whispering, “This woman’s so rude, Y/N. No manners . . . where are you?”

“Satoru, sweetheart, that woman is me. I’m right behind you.” You couldn’t help but laugh just a bit.

Slowly, Satoru rolled back around, his eyes locking with yours as his lips parted to, once again, tell you to be quiet, but his annoyed gaze faded away. It changed into a blank expression. Then, as he studied your face further, there was a brief frown of confusion, but suddenly, his lips broke out into a wide smile. Satoru sat upright, unintentionally sending his phone tumbling to the rug below the couch.

“Y/N?” He motioned you towards his lap. “C’mere, sweetheart. Where’ve you been? I missed you so much . . . so much, baby.”

After tapping the red button on your phone to end the call, you then got up and made your way over. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap without wasting a second, his hands finding your hips as you straddled him, and he continued to ramble on, on, and on.

“Baby, there was this other woman here. She was awful . . . wouldn’t be quiet. Told her I was trying to talk to you, not her.” Satoru pulled you closer. He kissed your neck. “I missed you s-so much. Don’t leave again, okay? I don’t wanna talk to no one ‘cept you, okay, baby?”

“Okay, I promise,” you ran your fingers through his messy white hair. “I also promise to throw out all the alcohol in this house, because clearly, you can’t handle it, can you?”

“I can handle you just fine, baby. Will you kiss me now?” Satoru pulled away from your neck, those lips of his falling into a small pout.

You couldn’t help but sigh and smile over him misunderstanding everything right now.

Your needy, drunk boyfriend placed his large hand on the back of your head, guiding your lips towards his, kissing you deeply. All the while, you couldn’t help but wonder if your boyfriend was this needy when he was sober, but kept it a secret.

He certainly was.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @preciousamethyst @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @koikohib

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader part 2

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader part 3

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 4

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 5

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 6

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 7

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 8

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 9

Invincible!Dad x pregnant Reader (Bonus scene)

Invincible!Dad x pregnant Reader (Bonus scene 2)

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 10

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 11

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 12

Invincible Dad x pregnant reader 13

Invincible!Mark x reader imagine

dating a civilian

The meeting had been dragging on for too long, and Mark was already exhausted. Missions, responsibilities, the weight of being Invincible—it was all piling up. But when Eve made her comment, all of that faded into the background.

"Mark, I just don’t get it," Eve said, crossing her arms. "You’re risking too much by being with a civilian. You know that, right? She can’t keep up with you. She can’t fight. She’s vulnerable."

Mark’s jaw clenched. He slowly turned to face her, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unreadable.

"You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quieter than usual, but firm. The room went still.

Eve hesitated. "I just mean… You live in different worlds. What happens if she gets hurt because of you? Or worse? You should be with someone who understands what it means to be a hero."

Mark let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Eve. I love her. And yeah, she doesn’t have powers, but that doesn’t mean she’s weak. She’s stronger than you think."

"Mark—"

"No," he cut her off. "She takes care of me. After every fight, every mission, every time I come home half-dead, she’s the one who patches me up. She’s the one who holds me when I feel like I’m falling apart. She makes me want to be better, not just as Invincible, but as a person. And you think she’s not enough just because she doesn’t have powers? That’s bullshit."

Eve frowned, clearly taken aback by the force behind his words. "I just… I worry about you."

"Then trust me to make my own choices," Mark said, his voice softer but no less determined. "I know what I’m doing. And I’m not going to let anyone make me doubt that."

The room was silent. No one else dared to speak. Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head before turning away, ready to leave. "I’m done here."

When he got home that night, he didn’t say anything at first—he just wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, breathing you in. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the conversation still lingering on his shoulders.

"Mark? What’s wrong?"

He buried his face in your neck, his voice a little rough. "Nothing. Just… I love you."

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you too. Always."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze full of determination and something fiercer—something protective. "No one gets to tell me that I shouldn’t be with you. No one."

And you knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, and his friends always tease him about it.

Eren and his boys—Jean, Connie, and Armin—spent four days together in Miami, Florida. It was a much needed trip, and each of them wanted to focus solely on spending money, having fun, and meeting beautiful women.

Except Eren.

He enjoyed ziplining over pools, drinking at clubs, going to the beach, and eating nearly all of the complimentary hotel breakfast food with Connie by his side, who started stuffing fruits and cups of cereal—with no milk, as he forgot, of course—into his clothes once the staff told him breakfast would end in ten minutes.

Even so, as he sat in the hotel’s dining area that had a light aroma of stale coffee and sunscreen, he missed you desperately.

Armin, who sat down at the little table across from Eren with his muffin, fruit, and eggs, could tell that his best friend was upset by the way he stirred his own scrambled eggs around on his plate, but not actually eating them.

“Don’t worry,” Armin looked up at his friend after taking a sip of his orange juice—Armin loved hotel orange juice, and Eren hated it—and the blue-eyed boy flashed a reassuring smile. “We’re going home tomorrow, so you’ll get to see her soon.”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled.

“Maybe you could FaceTime her before we leave for the day,” Armin suggested. After all, jet skiing and scuba diving were on the agenda, and he truly wanted Eren to enjoy it.

“I already talked to her twenty minutes ago,” Eren sighed, slouching back in his chair. “It only made me miss her even more. She has a new hairstyle and everything.”

“Eren,” Armin slowly chewed on a strawberry as he blinked. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eren pinched the bridge of his nose, and that’s when Connie and Jean joined them at their table.

“Guess what,” Connie grinned, placing two packed plates of food on the table. “They said we can sit here and eat as long as we want even after they stop serving breakfast, but we just can’t go back for seconds.”

“Connie grabbed every fucking thing he saw,” Jean frowned, grabbing a seat next to Armin.

“Hell yeah,” Connie picked up a grape, tossing it at Jean’s head. “So don’t be shy, grab whatever you want and eat up!”

“Don’t throw the grapes,” Armin said. “They’re delicious, so try not to waste them.”

“Loosen up, will you?” Jean frowned, breaking his hash brown into pieces before diving right in.

“I’ll loosen up once I know everything’s going according to plan,” Armin paused. “I mean, someone has to make sure we’re on schedule. It’s our last day here, so if we miss something, we won’t get another chance to do it.”

“The hell does that have to do with throwing grapes?” Connie said, earning a laugh from Jean.

Jean ruffled Armin’s blonde hair. “Don’t worry, we know you love the beach. We’re not gonna miss anything, alright? So just relax.”

“Right,” Armin smiled softly, “sorry.”

For a moment, everyone ate their food and engaged in somewhat polite chatter about today’s planned events.

“Alright, so we have our entire morning and afternoon planned,” Jean paused. “What are we doing tonight?”

Armin took that opportunity to bring the one silent member at their table into the conversation.

“Eren, is there anything you wanna do?”

“Yeah. Pack.”

And with that, Eren left the table, tossing his uneaten food in the garbage before heading back to the hotel room.

“Damn it, Connie,” Jean frowned. “I told you to let the guy bring his girlfriend.”

Connie tossed his arms up defensively, swallowing his food before he said, “go to Hell.”

—

As the day went on, Eren managed to have a bit of fun with his friends. Even so, as he swam with colorful fish and zoomed across the sea, a tingle of pain would shoot through his heart whenever he remembered that you weren’t with him, experiencing all of the bucket-list worthy adventures by his side.

As the group headed home in Jean’s SUV, Eren sat in the backseat besides Connie. He pressed his head against the foggy window, looking out at the orange streetlights passing by.

“Eren,” Connie fought back a laugh, pulling his phone out to record the pouting man. “Why are you acting like you’re in a R&B music video right now?”

“Shut up, Constance.” Eren effortlessly tossed his hand out and smacked Connie’s tattooed arm.

Connie quickly ended the recording.

“I’m gonna drop Eren off first,” Jean said, gripping the steering wheel as he made a left turn, “I really think he might die if he doesn’t get to Y/N soon.”

“Turn left again,” Armin said, directing Jean from the passenger seat. “But guys, leave him alone. Y/N’s lovely. None of us can understand what he’s going through because the three of us are single.”

“Thank you, Armin,” Eren said.

Eren folded his arms across his chest, continuing to sulk like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.

But, once Jean turned down a familiar street, the depressed man instantly perked up.

“You’re grinning like a toddler, dude,” Connie teased, but Eren ignored him, gripping the door handle tightly.

Jean tugged on his hat, slowing down as he pulled up in front of your home. However, before Jean could come to a complete stop, Eren started to jump out of the car.

“Eren! Be careful!” Armin warned as Jean slammed on the brakes. His warning was utterly useless, as Eren was already halfway through your front yard by the time the words fell from Armin’s lips.

“You forgot your bags!” Jean shouted, rolling down his window. “Didn’t shut my damn door, either.”

Suddenly, you opened your front door, having heard all of the commotion outside. And when you smiled, all of Eren’s friends could easily see why he was so in love with you.

Eren nearly knocked you over once he finally made it into your arms, a big smile spreading across that beautiful face of his. He showered your forehead and cheek with kisses as he inhaled your comforting scent.

“I missed you so much,” he said.

“I can tell,” you teased, hugging the tall man back. “I missed you too.”

He pulled away from the hug only to cup your face with his large hands. He kissed your lips softly, melting over the touch he had craved for days.

“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again. I don’t care if it’s the grocery store or to the living room,” Eren mumbled against your lips, and you giggled softly.

“Hey!” Jean suddenly honked his horn. “You’ve seen her, now come get your stuff!”

“In a minute,” Eren shouted back, flipping the driver off.

He just had to stare at that gorgeous face of yours for a few more minutes, and who could blame him? He was madly in love with you.

At the Emperor’s Word -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: Sneaking around the academy after hours sounds like a good idea right up until you get caught; then, it becomes a great idea.

Pairing: Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Threesome, Kissing, Handjob, Voyeurism, Obedience Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Cuckolding, Edging, Degradation, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Lap Sex, Light Punishment Kink, Big Dick Viktor, Pet Names, Begging, Slight Choking, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Rough Sex

Notes: A little fashionably late, but here is my absolutely filthy piece in celebration of Viktor’s birthday 🎉!! Viktor, my dearest, thank you for being my beloved husband and the devoted father of our many children. Glorious ovulation everyone ✌️💕.

You try to stifle a chuckle.

“Jayce, we can't-”

He's warm, so warm. You always feel yourself melt under his touch.

“C'mon, just a minute…” he insists.

You can't help but giggle breathlessly as he brings your hand into his pants, a large hand wrapping your fingers around his already half-hard cock. His body presses yours against the workbench, the firm wood digging into your lower back. His other hand slides against the fabric of your skirt, cushioning the strain, and not so subtly placing his palm over your ass.

He nuzzles his face against the top of your head, letting out a pleased groan when your fist starts moving. You suppress another laugh, trying your best to remain quiet, but you're positively enamoured of those sounds he makes when you touch him. Without even seeing his face, you know the content smile hasn't left his lips; he's so easy to please.

He's twitching under your grip, gripping your cheeks to the rhythm of the strokes. You quicken the pace, and he lets out a low moan that echoes through the empty lab.

This wing of the academy is always empty at this time of night, but there's something exciting about having to stay quiet. You can feel how close he's getting, the slight rutting of his hips a now familiar sign. His breath hitches, he's almost there, just a little more-

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

You yelp in surprise, pulling out your hand from Jayce's pants so fast your arm hits the wooden desk behind you. Jayce lets out a confused, frustrated shout at the sudden loss of friction as you wince in pain.

There, at the entrance of the lab, stands a looming figure, holding one of the large doors partially open. The light from the corridor obscures his face from the darkness of the lab; but there is no mistaking who this silhouette belongs to.

Viktor makes a single step forward, the metallic sound of his crutch against the tiled floor making you wince, as he lets the door close behind him. The room falls into obscurity again, the pale glow of the moon and the distant city lights only faintly shining through the windows.

“Ah, Viktor!” Jayce almost bellows in an overly cheery tone, walking backwards to put some distance between the two of you. “I- We were waiting for you! Got a bunch of interesting notes about today's experiments to show you !”

Viktor's face is blank, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in cold annoyance. He is neither amused nor does he seem the believe Jayce's jovial act. He nods curtly at the other man's pants, which are obviously, painfully unbuttoned. Jayce cringes as he quickly stumbles to reattach them, sliding the buttons in the wrong slits. You're frozen in place, eyes wide in fear, incapable of looking away from Viktor's frigid expression. But his focus is not on you; it's on Jayce.

“So,” he starts loudly, not bothering with whispers, “You barely spend any time working in the lab anymore. You have not even checked any of the upgrades I have suggested for the hexgates in the last month.” His voice is apathetic and dry, and his eyes narrow when he says the next words:

“And this is what you've been up to?”

Jayce opens his mouth like he's ready to argue, but the glare from his work partner seems to change his mind. He lowers his head silently, like a puppy being scolded. Viktor's golden pupils slide to you, and you now understand exactly why Jayce prefers looking at the floor.

“From Jayce I could expect,” Viktor remarks, the weight of his stare making you shrink, “but from you? I'll admit I'm disappointed.”

You bow your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks are burning, and you know there's no way to pretend like this is only a misunderstanding. You wish you could vanish on the spot.

Jayce, always the hero, comes to your defence quickly: “Viktor, it wasn't her idea-”

“I'm so sorry sir,” you interrupt him, stepping forward. You know Viktor well enough to recognize he's not a fan of poor excuses or avoiding accountability. “I swear this internship means the world to me. I know how many other students dream of working on hextech. It won't ever happen again.”

He seems pleased by your answer, although his expression stays perfectly stoic.

“That's good to hear,” he hums, walking closer to the both of you. He stops a few feet away, a ray of moonlight passing through a coloured beaker catching in his auburn hair. It illuminates him in an eerie, reddish glow, like he's not quite human, almost a phantom. “Well then, do not let me stop the both of you. Keep going, as you were.”

You have to assume he's joking, even if his tone sounds anything but, and you let out a confused, nervous giggle. But he isn't laughing, and neither is Jayce.

“Viktor…” there's uncertainty in the taller man's voice. It's not fear, or alarm, but he's apprehensive about something.

Viktor lets out a small sigh of lassitude, discontent evident. He looks at you again, with these amber eyes that make you feel like the world around you vanishes. Like there's nothing but him, and the words about to leave his lips.

“It would appear my partner is suddenly hard of hearing. Were my instructions unclear to you as well?”

You swallow. Your lips feel dry. Jayce is still unmoving next to you, still as a board, watching your interaction with his lab partner with an uneasy look.

“…No sir,” you mutter, just loudly enough for both men to hear. Viktor gives you the shadow of a smile.

“C'mon Viktor, you've humiliated her enough,” Jayce argues softly, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. But the other man has clearly decided Jayce hasn't gained his favour for the night, barely sparing him an icy glare.

“I do not believe I was talking to you,” he states matter-of-factly. The man of progress makes a strangled sound of protest, clearly insulted, but Viktor seems to have all but forgotten about him, now. It's back to only you and him, and the teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“He's always like this. Begging for attention,” Viktor tells you in a tone of confidence, like the topic of the conversation isn't standing less than a foot away from you with a baffled look on his face. “One has to wonder if he is compensating for something, but I figure you are in a good position to tell, right?”

You can’t prevent the corners of your mouth from lifting at the underhanded jab; Viktor seems emboldened by your reaction, voice louder when he continues:

“I certainly hope he's been more of a gentleman to you than this. Or does he only bend you over in our lab like an animal?”

The comment is enough to pull Jayce out of his stupor, and he raises his arms in protest.

“Hey, I'm not that-” he starts heatedly.

“Jayce.”

It's just his name; nothing else. You've said it to him hundreds of times. But there's something different in the way Viktor says it, the slow pronunciation of the syllables, the hardness of the accent, the deepness of the voice. Whatever it is, Jayce is compelled by it just as much as an order. He stops right in his tracks, his arms falling uselessly back to his side, like a dog listening to a command.

Viktor hums in approval, but his stare is no less punishing.

“I was not talking to you. When it is your turn to speak, you will know.”

Jayce's mouth is slightly agape, his eyes wide, an expression you can't quite read on his face; but he obeys. He stands there like a puppet, unmoving, drinking Viktor's words. You can't help but notice the still present strain in his badly buttoned pants.

The thinner man's gaze softens once more as it falls on you. He makes another step forward; close enough that you could reach him with your hand if you tried. He looks at you encouragingly: “Answer the question, sweet thing.”

The room feels like it's shrunk to barely a tenth of its size. Your breath has become shallow without you noticing. But isn't quite from fear anymore.

“T-twice in the lab before,” you stutter, the embarrassment of recounting your adventures to your direct supervisor burning your cheeks. The arousal in the air is undeniable now, and he's visibly aware of it. “And in the library. Once in my bedroom.”

Viktor hums pensively, studying your answer. It almost feels like you're passing some kind of final exam; the world's most sexually charged exam, undoubtedly.

“So he is aware of the basic notion of privacy behind closed doors, then,” Viktor concludes, the thin smirk now fully on display. “Who would have thought.”

He doesn't look away from your eyes when he finally speaks to the other man again.

“Jayce. How close are you?”

You glance at the taller engineer; he's started palming himself through his pants, his breathing irregular. His hair is dishevelled from your previous activities, and his cheeks are a bright crimson against his caramel skin. He's usually so dominating, on top of things, handling you like a chiffon doll up and down his dick with that cocky smile of his. You've never seen him like this; flustered, desperate, seeming so small despite all of his stature.

“Pretty close,” Jayce almost moans out, voice raspy for exertion. He's biting his own bottom lip so tightly it might start bleeding. “Just a little more.”

Viktor finally gives him a slight smile, though it's dripping with self-satisfaction. He's close enough to you that you can smell him now, that you could brush away the wayward strands of hair on his forehead. His face has been marked by the passage of time and countless hours of work, heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks almost gaudy. And yet, there is no sign of him ever losing control of this moment. Nothing could change the hypnotic power of his eyes, the controlling tone of his voice, or the subjugating effect of his slightly crooked smile.

“I suppose we should oblige,” he suggests lightly, his free hand brushing your cheek. His fingers are thin and lithe, cold against your skin, and you lean into the touch. He gives you a moment to pull away, if you want to; but you don't.

The kiss is slow at first, gentle, just the way little girls dream their prince charming might one day give them. He lets you decide when to pick up the speed, and you initiate after a few seconds by slipping your tongue in his mouth. It's messier, now, teeth clashing every now and then, saliva pooling where your lips meet. He tastes nothing like Jayce, his flavour of dark coffee and fresh mint; Viktor is sweet, like milk and honey, like a slice of lemon cake in the summer heat.

When he pulls away for air, you feel like time has started to move once again, as if you've just emerged from a dream. He's smirking confidently, still, but not entirely unfazed; his pale cheeks have turned pink, his breathing is slightly laboured, and there are traces of smudged saliva on the corners of his mouth.

A foreign whine makes you both turn towards Jayce, who is clearly on the edge of orgasm. He's abandoned any pretence of innocence, his cock fully pulled out of his pants as he rubs it furiously, eyes locked on the two of you.

“Stop,” Viktor only says.

Jayce groans in frantic frustration, slowing his rhythm but incapable of removing his hand. He's harder than you've ever seen him, his tip almost a painful red.

“No, no, c'mon V, don't do this. Please keep going,” he begs, looking at you with pitiful eyes, pleading silently. You want to touch him, to let him touch himself. But you know it's not your decision; it's Viktor's. And he's made his ruling, so you're not about to get on your research director's bad side again.

The head engineer offers a proud smile at your lack of answer to Jayce, the kind he usually reserves for reports submitted in advance or ingenious schematics. You recognize him more like this, strict, but never unappreciative of your efforts. He never forgets to slip a word of encouragement when you're stuck, never hesitates to reread your notes with you when the math isn't quite adding up. The cold anger seems to have fully passed, and now only the teasing, taunting satisfaction remains.

“I believe you may have forgotten that as per her contract, she is my assistant. Meaning she is under my direct command.”

He's looking at Jayce now, whose hand is still wrapped around his length, but unmoving. His cock is twitching in his grasp, desperate as the rest of him. His whole body shifts to the rhythm of his respiration, large shoulders slumped in defeat. Viktor doesn't turn to you when he asks you the following question, choosing instead to stare deeply into Jayce's citrine eyes.

“Is that not correct?”

You don't hesitate with your answer this time.

“Yes sir.”

His focus is still on the other man, but he strokes your cheek again with his left hand. He rests his weight comfortably on his crutch, like he doesn't have a single worry in the world in this moment.

“Good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten at that. That voice could tell you to find a way to harness the power of the goddamn stars before figuring out the hexcore, and you would comply.

“Jayce, could you bring the chair over here? The larger one.”

Viktor points with his chin towards a wooden chair with a flat backing, in a corner of the lab. Jayce looks back and forth between the chair and his partner, like he's unsure if he's joking or testing him. When no additional directions come from Viktor, he sighs in discomfort, clearly disgruntled, unceremoniously shoving himself back in his pants to go fetch the chair. The thinner man hums in appreciation when he brings it back and places it next to him.

“Thank you, Jayce.”

He sits, using his crutch for balance as he shifts slightly to find a comfortable position. His hand leaves the burgundy handgrip, instead settling on the metallic upper section. He looks like the king of a forgotten kingdom, resting on his wooden throne, sceptre in hand. You and Jayce, his obedient consorts, can't do anything but await his next command.

It comes in the form of a simple motion of his hand, beckoning you closer. You only stop when your legs bump against his, standing above him. His fingers caress the fabric of your skirt studyingly, like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually catch on the waistband, tugging it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of the sunrise etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and he lowers the skirt down until it reaches your knees, letting it fall to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you dressed up this morning knowing you would see Jayce.

The design is simple, a line of flowery lace hugging your hips, and curving to the shape of your ass. It's the kind of thing Jayce loves; he'll even make you keep your panties on sometimes as he fucks you, just pushing the bottom of the fabric to the side to fit himself inside you. It's the lace he can’t resist, you think, the way it barely covers anything and rests against your skin like a present for him to unwrap.

It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Viktor, but you can tell he’s still appreciative, cold hand sneaking under the lace to squeeze a cheek firmly.

“This is fucking torture,” Jayce groans in complaint, standing still just barely a few feet away. He's obviously aware he's not supposed to interfere with the two of you, or to touch himself for relief, but the glistening sweat on his forehead and down the prominent vein on his neck indicates how difficult this is for him.

“And you should know better than to have sex next to a table covered in explosive materials and one-of-a-kind prototypes,” Viktor retorts, sparing him a slightly displeased glance. “What if you had broken something irreplaceable?”

Jayce seems genuinely embarrassed by that; he may not show it as often these days with how busy he is, but you know he still cares about the academy's research and the state of hextech.

“I'm sorry Viktor. I wasn't thinking…”

“I am aware you were not thinking. And that is exactly the issue. You forget how much of our profession relies on thinking, not talking.”

It's crystal clear that's going to be the end of the conversation, for now. Viktor's fingers slide to your hip, following the shape of the panties until your inner thigh. A small tap with a single digit tells him everything he needs to know.

“Look at this,” he smiles, taunting but affectionate, “Already so wet just from a kiss. Or was it the sound of my voice that did it, I wonder.”

Both, it's both, and every single thing that has happened in this lab since he entered it. You tremble when his finger moves slowly against the damp fabric, not quite oversensitive, but a little on edge.

“I, um-” Jayce hesitantly speaks up from the side. “I fingered her a bit earlier. I… think she should be alright?”

This time, Viktor doesn't reprimand him for talking; he seems surprisingly pleased, eyes boring into yours for confirmation.

“Is that so?” he exhales softly.

You nod breathlessly. Why is it always so difficult to talk when he's studying you like this?

The teasing finger slips under the fabric, gently making its way into you. You let out an involuntary sound of eagerness as he verifies if you've been loosened up, analyzing you with the precision of a machine. He removes the digit with a crooked grin when he judges you've passed, and you whine at the loss; it was barely anything in the first place, but it soothed the feeling of total emptiness in your core.

“Color me impressed,” Viktor declares, half genuine, half mocking. “I do not think I have ever seen Jayce do his work in advance.”

Said man groans in defeated complaint:

“You're turning her against me.”

Viktor lets out a wry snort:

“You do that well enough on your own. You touched her without even making her cum?”

He pats your pussy comfortingly, and you almost sing to the feeling. Your panties get lowered swiftly, and you discard them with little decorum. Viktor's assertive expression has softened enough that you feel emboldened enough to try to join in the banter:

“Jayce thinks foreplay is watching him get undressed. He's not exactly an expert.”

Viktor laughs at that, a charming and genuine sound, and you feel yourself glow with pride. The topic of mockery doesn't seem as pleased, his cheeks red, his lips thin:

“See? Told you. You've already worked your fucking magic on her.”

Viktor starts unbuttoning his pants, the teasing smile still etched on his angular features. His fingers work nimbly, swiftly, with the precision only the best engineer in Runeterra could muster in such circumstances.

“It is not magic, Jayce. Simply talent and practice.”

He does quick work of lowering his pants, just enough to expose his underwear. The confirmation that he is indeed not as unbothered as he still may seem is poking through the fabric. Judging by the defined outline and the sizeable tent, you can instantly confirm a hypothesis you've had since the start of your internship: the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy is packing.

He's not unaware of it either; his golden eyes follow the movement of your own, playfully examining your reaction. It's different from Jayce's endearing ego and constant need for praise; Viktor knows his worth, but he revels in the admiration, the stares filled with awe and devotion.

If Jayce needs to feel worthy, then Viktor needs to feel wanted.

He finally frees his cock from the restrive fabric, letting the member bob slightly. He's not even fully hard, and he's huge, the length imposing, the bulbous tip a pleasant shade of pink. The skin is as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins marking it like porcelain; only a few well-trimmed auburn curls at the base remind you he's not sculpted from actual marble.

Jayce lets out a low, tentatively playful whistle as the other man’s slender fingers wrap around the shaft.

“Flattery will not get you far, Jayce,” Viktor comments absentmindedly. “You and I both know this is nothing you have not seen before.”

He moves his hand in an open, loose fist, evidently without any real intent to finish himself off; not with the way he's made you stand right above him, not with how he's looking right at you. You swallow with difficulty, licking your lips for moisture. The energy between the two of you is tangible, electric, as he keeps working himself tantalizingly slow.

“Darling. Sweet thing. Do you want this?”

You nod vigorously, the words stuck in your throat again.

“Tell me, then. Please. Tell me how much you want this,” he requests, and it's hard to tell whether that's an order or a plea with the way his voice lowers, just barely louder than a whisper.

You feel like you're high, your mind a jumbled mess of adrenaline and lust. There are no sentences that could possibly express how he's got you under his spell. How many times have you imagined a scene like this, in only a year of being his assistant? The stolen glances, the passing touches, you had no reason to believe they were anything more than figments of your lustful imagination. The very idea that he could be the one doubting your interest in him is laughable, and yet his gaze is probing you for a response, his lips parted with bated breath.

“I want this. I want you,” you swear to him, staring back so deeply into the amber irises there could not be a single question left. “Please, sir.”

You bring a hand to the crook of his neck; the coolness of the skin under your palm, the sharpness of his collarbone against your fingertips, the beating of his heart below your thumb. He has to know this is real.

Viktor smiles slightly, the little mole above his lips shifting alongside his dimples.

“I would ask you to be weary of my right leg, then. It is not quite as strong as it used to be, although that is not saying much.”

You've never seen the emotion that crosses Viktor's face in that moment, gone in under a second. It's so subtle one might have missed it; bitterness, regret, defeat. The tragedy of a man brilliant enough to change the whole world, but who wouldn't live long enough to see it. If Janna truly watches over the lost children of Zaun, then she is turning a blind eye to the brightest of them all.

You could say something, try and comfort him, but you choose not to. There's nothing that can be said to change things; there’s only the present, and there are only actions.

You sink down on him slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. You can't help the array of whines escaping your pinched lips. The heat from where your bodies meet is overwhelming, the stretch delightful and filling. He's not fully inside you and you're already wondering how much more you can take. It's dizzying, the pain making you grit your teeth, but you persist, fingers clenching on the back of the chair. When you've fully bottomed out, you let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Viktor soothingly pats your back, and you hang on to him for dear life, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers softly, worry evident in his voice. You want to answer, but you're quite certain if you open your mouth you'll only get confused gibberish out, because fuck, he's filling you so much it's hard to even think. You shift your grip to his shoulder blades, trying to anchor yourself, absentmindedly noticing the cool feeling of metal under his uniform. You trace the intricate patterns with your fingers to ground yourself, recognizing the shapes of bolts and screws, as you feel your breathing slowly even out

“I’m ok,” you eventually manage to exhale. “I just- need a second“

Viktor makes an understanding hum, his hand caressing the valley of your back like you're doing with his, his strokes mellow. He moves his head slightly to look at Jayce behind you, throwing him an irritated glare.

“So much for your preparations,” he points out with irony.

Without needing to see him, you know exactly the kind of disgruntled face Jayce is making: “She only needs three to fit me, you're just stupid big.”

“I can move,” you interrupt them, the pain now only a vague tingle; all that remains is the yearning for him.

You place both hands on the back of the chair to balance your weight, being careful of Viktor's weaker leg. You bring yourself up slowly, tantalizingly, before letting yourself fall back on his length. There's no other way to describe the broken moan you release than dirty.

“Eh,” Viktor remarks slyly, groaning when you start moving again. “S-she does not seem to think it’s stupid.”

You fuck yourself on him with abandon, fast, rough, not caring of how debauched you may look. If anything, Jayce seems very appreciative if his moans and curses are any indication.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants somewhere behind you, too far to feel his warmth, but close enough to hear he's pumping himself to the same rhythm you're riding Viktor. “You're doing such a good job taking him, princess…”

He's truly begging when he calls the other man's name again, delirious from the unending edging:

“V, please, make her turn to my side, I have to see her face.”

Viktor's hooded eyes bare into yours, his raspy pants echoing through your head as you thrust up and down his length.

“Do you think he is truly sorry, now?” he asks, the ever-teasing glimmer in his pupils shining despite the clear physical effort from his body.

You can't even remember what Jayce has to be sorry for; you whimper a positive ‘huh-uh’. Viktor nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck for a moment, gently bitting the sweaty skin in a surprising hint of possessiveness, but he does finally agree to free Jayce of his torture.

“I will trust your good judgment. You can come here, Jayce.”

You yelp in surprise when two strong but familiar hands suddenly grab you at the waist and turn you around, almost pulling you off Viktor's cock and into a messy kiss. The slight tickle of Jayce's stubble is pleasantly itchy, his tongue desperately searching for more of your taste. You moan wantonly against his mouth when you feel Viktor twitch inside you, but the man under you doesn't seem fully pleased: a thinner but firm hand brings you back against his chest, and he throws Jayce an irritated glare.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Typical,” the older man accuses him with a bitter tone, his accent more pronounced, rigid. “You do not get to touch, and you are only allowed to cum on her.”

His lips come to your ear in the ghost of a kiss, velvety smooth:

“Would that be agreeable to you, sweet thing?”

You just know you want to keep going, really; so you do exactly that as a reply.

This position is harder for movement, since without the support of the chair’s back, you would have to rely on putting pressure on Viktor's knees. Thankfully, with Jayce’s proximity, you can use his muscled chest for balance. He certainly doesn't mind being used like this if the expression he’s wearing is any sign: his entire face is crimson, his eyes heavy, laboured breaths escaping his abused lips. He's still following your pace, pumping up and down every time your ass meets Viktor's hip bones. It has to be painful by now, with the way he's been rubbing himself raw for so long without release, but he's either too entranced to care or getting off the burning friction

“So obedient,” Viktor praises you, his free hand moving to your lower stomach, long fingers digging gently into your skin; you wonder if he’s trying to feel himself move inside you. “We might still be able to make a top student out of you. What do you think, Jayce?”

Much like yourself, Jayce seems beyond the capacity for words. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you, like he wants to take you off Viktor's lap and fuck you right on the floor. But you both know he wouldn't do that without Viktor's approval, at the risk of getting on the other man’s bad side again.

Viktor's cock hits a peculiarly sensitive spot inside you and you cry out from the sudden shock, loling out your tongue involuntarily. Jayc makes a strangled sound at the sight, and it visibly takes all his self-control to not shove himself into the warmth of your throat.

“For once, I cannot get you to talk when I actually want you to,” Viktor tsks in disapproval, but it's clear he's not frustrated; rather, he seems to enjoy the trance-like silence Jayce has been reduced to.

“F-fuck, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” the younger man sputters, delirious, his fist moving with a frenzied pace. “I can see your cock in and out of her every time she bounces like that. Her tits look so good…”

You recognize that slight pitch in his voice, the rumbling in his throat; he's close again.

“What else?” Viktor hums, not letting him have a moment of respite. You can hear ragged gasps next to your ear, parts of heaved curses indicating he too is nearing his end, but he's still firmly insistent on being the one in control of it all.

Jayce whines in struggle, but it's hard to hear with how loud the sound of your own moans echo in the room. You've been using Viktor's cock to hit that one spot over and over, chasing your high without restraint, the familiar clenching of your walls maddening.

“She looks all fucked out. Like she -fuck- like she's so close to cumming around you…”

The other man seems pleased by that if the way you feel him twitch inside you is evidence. “Good observations,” he replies in playful irony. “Perhaps there is still a scientist in there.”

The hand on your stomach leaves its comfortable position to wrap around your neck, the pressure light, just barely restricting airflow.

“Sweet thing,” he calls out to you once more. “You can pick up the pace a little. I want you to never look away from Mr Talis's eyes.”

It's a hard request to fulfill considering how badly you want to squint your eyes shut in the agonizing pleasure; but you try your very best, unshed tears of exhaustion starting to pool and blurying your vision.

The sight of you so desperately trying to obey Viktor's order to focus on nothing but him is what finally undoes Jayce, who lets out one final loud curse:

“Shit-!”

He cums all over your academy blouse with a shout, little droplets reaching as high as your chin. It barely takes three more thrusts against Viktor for you to join him, crying tears of relief as an intense wave of bliss rocks your entire body. With your limbs reduced to nothing but putty, your head falls forward in exhaustion, thankfully stopped by Jayce's strong torso; the fabric of his dress shirt feels like satin against your face, burying your sobs.

Viktor takes a moment longer to reach his peak, fucking into your exhausted body with concentration, thick eyebrows furrowed. It's too much, too rough, and you throw your head back to whine against his neck pitifully. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath before he finally unloads into you with a long groan.

“Shh, good girl,” he compliments you soothingly as his warmth settles into your core, kissing your neck leisurely in praise. “You have done so well.”

He bends your head back slightly more to catch your mouth in an open-mouth kiss, slow and tired, sloppy from your mutual exhaustion. Jayce groans, his hand somehow still on his softened cock, pumping it lazily; his stamina is utterly unbelievable.

“Okay, actually, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he comments hoarsely, absorbing the way your tongue dances with Viktor's with every inch of his capacities.

Viktor concludes the wet kiss with a small peck on your lips, smiling as your head falls back on his shoulder in fatigue, your eyes shut close.

“Because you managed to get yourself all over her?” he throws back at Jayce, as calm and confident as if he hadn't just made you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. “Your ego will never cease to impress me.”

The stars behind your eyelids are still spinning; you weakly try to move an arm, finding it almost completely unresponsive.

“Sir?” you ask, and you almost don't recognize your voice with how rough and broken it resonates in the empty lab.

“I think we have reached the point where you are allowed to call me by my name in private,” Viktor amusedly hums close to you.

“Viktor, I…”

You want to open your eyes, to look into his golden eyes again and see the way he looks right after sex, but they're sealed shut from how worn out you are. “…I don't think I can move right away.”

That earns you a content chuckle from one man and a disbelieving laugh from the other.

“Jayce,” Viktor asks, now with a tone of request rather than command, “be a gentleman for once and carry her to her bedroom. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Jayce snorts, for once tonight the one hitting back with irony:

“And whose fault is that?”

Viktor’s fingers, still loosely wrapped around your throat as lightly as feathers, slide down to massage the tender muscles at the base of your nape. You moan brokenly into the touch. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

“Undeniably yours. I am not the one sneaking around in the academy for nefarious purposes,” Viktor retorts playfully, tiredness noticeable but skillfully hidden in his voice. “But if you were to have a bad idea like this once more… I believe I can offer you my services as her supervisor. For both your sakes.”

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 2: The Dead Ones

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You and Bruce were in his office, you let out a puff of smoke as you stood by the window. Taking in the view.

"You know, in Arkham, there wasn't any bars on the windows. More like, plastic glass, so blurry I couldn't even see the moon clearly." The cigarette shortened even more as you took a long drag from the cigarette.

Bruce watched you from his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. You look so. . . it's hard for him to see you as who you are right now. Deep down Bruce knew you'd change some way after Arkham. Which was his sorry excuse for not visiting you. Only reading three of your letters, and stopped, he felt shame when it came to you. For which one of you, he doesn't know.

There are times, he did feel shame of being your father. Horrible, he knows. He's the worst father alive. And that's when he feels shameful of himself.

You let out a small sigh before turning to Bruce, you see the complex expression he had.

". . . You know Daddy, I don't think I ever seen you smile."

You walked closer to his desk and took a seat on one of the chairs. Bruce just silently stared at you. You still call him Daddy. He wanted to feel happy at the fact one thing stayed the same with you. But the way you said it. You said it in such a mocking way. Like it was a joke. Him being your father was a joke to you. It hurt. He rather you call him Bruce in the most hateful way you could.

"Y/n, I'm sorry-" Bruce tries to apologize, but you cut him off with the wave of your hand.

"I'm not here to fish out any apology from you."

Silence fills the room. You sighed again, putting out the cigarette by dropping it into a glass of water. You stood up and approached the vinyl player, you start it up as Bruce raised his brow in confusion. You turn around to face him

"Come on daddy, let's dance." You approached the older man, grabbing his arm and tugged him to stand. Even with how random your request was, Bruce complied, and you two began to slow dance together, the feeling was foreign to both.

The slow music continued as you two danced. You let your head rest on your father's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing. Bruce squeezed your hand. You began to realize. You have never been this close to Bruce. Always 4 feet away.

"When I was a little girl, there was this daddy daughter dance at school. . . I always wanted to dance with you like this. But you were busy. I understood, but it still hurt" Your statement caused Bruce to hold you a little tighter. Before he could attempt to apologize. You spoke up to shut him down.

"Don't you dare apologize."

The two of you continue to slow dance. You closed your eyes as Bruce rests his chin on your head. Closing his eyes. The two of you swaying to the music.

This moment should be a peaceful, loving moment between a father and daughter. But it felt more like an ending to a story that was going nowhere.

"Daddy, I have a question for you."

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, still holding you tight.

Your eyes slowly open. "Have you seen Mommy recently?" Your question caught your father off guard. Visibly frozen. You lift your head up and see his expression turn a little sour.

"Why?" He spoke, slightly offended. Your spending time with him, why not focus on him?

"She's been missing. For a month. Not even her own family knows where she is. . ."

"Well, I don't where she is. I haven't had contact with her for years."

You sighed and pulled away, turning your back to him. A sign to show you were upset with his answer. Bruce frowns a little at you pulling away, his arms stayed up, almost to reach back for you.

"She visited me, every week, for several years. So please, understand I need to find her." You really were hoping to see if Bruce knew anything. But of course, he disappoints you with nothing. Again.

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You got a text from Rex; your grandfather needed you back at the manor. You didn't have enough time to get your things from your old room, so you left Bruce in his office, walking to the front doors, where Alfred waited for you with your coat, along with Dick, Tim and.. . someone else you didn't recognize. But you focused on Alfred, and gently smile to the older man.

"Thank you for the food, Alfred, probably the one thing I missed the most while locked up." You spoke in a joking manner as you turned to let Alfred put your coat on for you. Alfred smiled a little.

"Thank you, miss."

You look up and give the three men a small nod "Dick, Tim . . . And?" You gave the third man a small look of confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I got your name." You adjusted your coat as you stared up at the man and gave him your hand to shake. But the man just stared at you, Dick had to nudge him to snap him out of it.

The man snapped out of it and quickly took your hand and held it as gently as possible. You took notice of the scars on his calloused hand. He spoke in a nervous tone

"Jason, Jason Todd"

You instantly come to a pause.

"I- Uh, Jason Todd?" You know the name. Very well. But the name doesn't fit the face you remember.

But the look on everyone's face says it all, you know this family would not lie about this. You stepped closer to Jason, your hands hovering over his face, Jason could see your eyes glossed over with incoming tears that never fell.

" How. . .I thought you were dead. . ." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Jason lets out a weak chuckle.

"I thought you were dead too."

No words could express how much he missed you. When he came back from the dead, back into the family. No one dared to mention you. Even when he asked about you. They acted as if you were dead. But you were only a few miles away. Locked up. The thought alone angers him, he could have saved you sooner.

"Heh, I seem to get that a lot." You coil back and felt your phone buzz. Your ride was here.

"Do you have to leave Miss? It's late, why not stay for the night." Alfred tries to have you stay for at least a night.

"You just got here" - Dick

"The crime has gotten worse lately"- Tim

"Please. . .?"- Jason

You sighed as you opened the door,

"Sorry boys, no can do. Maybe another time." You gave them a small smile and turned to the car that was here to pick you up, but when you took a few steps down the staircase, you turn around where the entrance door was still open with Alfred and the boys stood.

"Oh, and Jason" Hearing you speak his name, Jason immediately perked up

"It was good seeing you. . . alive and all." You gave him a small toothy grin, before finally getting into the car.

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Do you understand, how angry Jason was right now? After all this time thinking you were dead, his sweet little sister gone, you were alive, in a cage full of crazy's. He doesn't care if you took a few lives. You didn't mean too, it was an accident.

He was furious with Bruce for letting you get locked up for so long. Because you're staying with the Falcone's, a bunch of criminals that resort to anything if kept on the top.

"She was alive this whole time, and you knew."

Not only was it Bruce, but Dick knew to. Of all people to keep this away from him, Jason wouldn't think Dick of all people would lie.

"No one said she was dead Jay." Dick tried to calm Jason in some way.

"No one said she was alive!" Jason was quick to snap at Dick who just frowned at Jason's tone.

Your reappearance was indeed a shock to everyone and a lot of them are still trying to process it. As for the ones who never knew of your existence, they were trying to find out more about you. Your name has never been uttered, no pictures of you. Nothing. It was like you never really existed.

Thank Tim for that. Who had to remove you completely, so the Wayne name had less pressure on them. But now Tim is trying to gather what kind of rehabilitation you were in. He felt suspicious of your return. The way your eyes would bare into everyone in a sort of creepy way. As if analyzing them, Tim knew if he brought it up to either Bruce or Dick they would not listen to him. Especially by the way they reacted to your return.

So he was lucky Cassandra and Duke came to him first.

"The way she stared at me, I don't know man it gave me the creeps." Duke wasn't saying this out of meanness. You were genuinely making him uneasy every time you glanced at him, even more nervous when you gave him a smile.

Cassandra felt threatened by you. No one but her noticed how you stared at her the most.

"Something isn't right with her." Was all Cassandra said. Something was indeed wrong with you.

". . . Well, she just got out of Arkham, maybe she's a little. . . ?" Duke trailed off. Not wanting to say the word crazy just yet.

Tim silently listened to Duke and Cassandra's concern about you.

"Haven't you known her longer Tim?" Duke questioned.

Tim sat back in his chair as he let out a small sigh. You might have not noticed much, but he was always watching you. From the moment Bruce took him under his wing. You were small. Quiet, and simple. Not like that was a bad thing. At that time Tim wanted excitement, thrill. And you were none of those things, due to the fact you were practically a toddler.

But now, your different. Of course. It's a no-brainer Arkham would change you, he saw it coming. But your change was, unsettling. He hoped you would stay for him to find out more. But it seems your occupied with the Falcone's at the moment. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

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"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎?"