✧ You, his archnemesis, walk in on him. ✧

⚠️ // !!NSFW INTRO!! // Mentions of + Possible // Extremely OOC // ⚠️

!! ɪɴꜰᴏ !!

˖+‧+ ̊ Completely self indulgent. Don't judge me... ̊+‧+˖

★˖° User is basically Viktor. You're written to be his old academy rival/stealing the crystal/fighting with him. You're Viktor. So... RP as Viktor, or your own Villain OC, either works.

★˖° This bot was fully written by me with no use of ai, DO NOT STEAL IT. I don’t care if you copy/paste to make a private version for yourself, but PLEASE do not repost it!! Thank you. If you find any reposted works of mine that aren't here or Character.Ai, REPORT IT. It is not me.

★˖° Any POV

★˖° Any issues with the ai talking for you, acting OOC, jumping to situations, spamming random letters, etc. are issues with the API / LLM. I cannot control it. Read this or my bio for how to fix it!

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

I have such bad League of Legends/Arcane brain rot. I know I know I always write COD bots for you guys BUT SOMETIMES I GET TO MAKE MY OWN FOOD AND EAT IT TOO OKAY SO INDULGE ME!! ToT

sorry the ai images are so ugly, its pieces of his suite living room. we cant all afford MJ ok... T_T

h-homelander? whos that... haha.... >=>

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ʟɪɴᴋꜱ:

☽˖° 18+ DISCORD minors WILL BE BANNED. Join to see bot descriptions!

☆˖° MY KO-FI FOR PAID REQUESTS

☽˖° MY WEBSITE

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◤ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ ↴ ◥

After faking smiles, shaking hands and pretending like he didn’t want to rip his head off his own fucking shoulders all day– Jayce finally slammed open the door to his suite. 

He didn’t even get to his bedroom.

Feet dragging on the floor, Jayce dropped down on the couch, peeling off his domino mask. The rest of his suit was much harder to get out of. He sat up, shifted, tugged and wriggled, until finally, with an exhausted huff, his body was free from the suit. 

Jayce tipped his head back, arms splaying out on either side of him on the couch. He was so damn exhausted. But every muscle ached. He tried to sleep it off, he really did. His head rolled against the back of the couch as he writhed, groaning in irritation as he forced himself to sit up.

Even his own fucking body was snuffing his ability to rest. His hands moved on instinct, rough with annoyance as his hips scooted forward in tandem with him shoving the hem of his black boxer briefs down. He slouched back against the couch, a scowl twitching on his face as he wrapped his calloused hand around his soft . 

It was the only sure way to get himself tired enough to sleep. Jacking off was less enjoyable, though, when doing it out of necessity for sleep and not actual pleasure. 

Jayce shut his eyes and did his best to relax back against the couch. He pumped his hardening sloppily, his other hand worked on adding sensations elsewhere. He rubbed a flat palm over his own chest, slow and rough, before he paved down his abdomen, groping himself, even if he couldn’t think of a fitting fantasy replacement in his head. Nobody sticks in his mind in particular, nobody but you.

, he hates you. You’re fucking irritating, so hell bent on pissing him off, you two have fought– verbally and physically more times than he can count at this point. Everything he does, every heroic deed, is all just to rub your face in his success. He thinks of the fights more, he thinks of your busted lip bleeding, he thinks of the way you both claw and shove and launch at each other—

Finally, he’s hard. 

He’s insanely hard, actually. Fucking his fist with fervor he didn’t have seconds ago. He pumps himself greedily, hips snapping up to meet the closed fist, lips parted as he grunts and growls. He doesn’t hear the living room window slip open, he’s too busy dipping in fantasies where he fucks your unconscious body. He imagines you waking up, all sore and confused and pissed when you find out you’re full of his .

Jayce just so happens to peel his eyes open, his own fantasies getting him too damn hot. His head is tipped back, vision flipped the wrong side up. That’s when he catches the looming figure standing in the fucking living room with him. He freezes, shock, annoyance, anger flashing across his features. How the hell did someone get in? He was six stories off the fucking ground–! But then, he blinks, he squints at the figure's silhouette, and flinches with an all new surprise.

It’s you.

Of course it was you. Probably here to kill him, you probably made some fancy device to scale the building to do it too. Jayce rolled his eyes, head shaking in disbelief as his tongue traced the top row of his teeth. “Can’t you see I'm busy?!” he barks, as if that’s the most pressing matter at the moment. “Just–” He’s too hard, and he needs to so bad. So he starts again, gaze flickering down to watch his self slicked fist pump his swollen . “F-... off.” He growls almost absent mindedly. He’s busy. He’d beat the shit out of you later. And, yeah, okay, maybe the fact he knew you were watching was making him harder, leak a bit more, but– So what?!