this is a blog that is friendly to NSFW content! keep that in mind.
i thrive off of the prompts and requests i receive, so donât be afraid to send a request or two. i might not be able to draft up a response immediately, but i will try to get to most requests :)!!
âThe outside world is sick, killing itself like a snake swallowing its tail. Let Daddy be your medicine. Let me take care of you the way no one else can.â
OR:
Dr. Easterman catches a private moment on the cameras.
tags: THIS IS SMUT. Daddy kink, pseudo-incest (kinda??? he does his father/daddy shtick lol), NON-CON voyeurism (but reader would be into it if they knew), AFAB reader-insert, no pronouns, just a vagina mention lolol
wc: 1.3k ⊠short :(
A face among the crowd: that's all you were at the start. Dr. Easterman recalls reading the report of your first trial: a massive failure, it was evident why society discarded you. You weren't entirely a lost cause, though. You had passion, albeit misplaced, which you used to protest the therapy, the facility, the personnel. He could redirect this quality of yours. All you needed was a father's love.
Not that you harnessed your potential. Rather, you pouted in your cell day in and out, much like a petulant child, refusing to participate anymore. Couldn't you see the good he wanted to do? Couldn't you see that volunteering to be part of this facility was for your benefit? Have it your way then, for ungrateful children deserve no privileges.
The scientists recommended re-purposing you as they do with the failures, the discards, to be nothing more than a body in a trial. The idea did nothing but irritate himâfor them to act like they know better than him, to doubt him. He waved them away and ordered the personnel to strip you of what little your cell owned, to reduce your food portions to the bare minimum, so you could learn to be thankful.
Your behavior fixed itself shortly thereafter.
In the months since your arrival, your seed has sprouted. Only a little longer nourished in the fertilizer will your petals come into full bloom, pristine against this sadistic grime. Youâre not perfect, not yet. Your recordâs tarnished by the occasional stumble into a trap, or a stab in the backâexcept for todayâs exemplary performance. He's become familiar with your nameâpurposefully scanning through the endless list of namesâwhenever a day's progress report graces his desk. He made sure to leave a message of personal praise on your cell's radio.
It's later when heâs perusing through various files, progress reports, financial expenses, that he decides can wait when he tosses them aside, rather choosing to idle through the camera feed. A large station sits against an empty wall in his office that he situates himself at. There's only a few cameras across the facility; the surveillance system was costly, but the sacrifice is worth it when he grows increasingly paranoid by the day. He can't afford for anything to be amiss.
There's hardly anything interesting. A few lingering faces in the dining hall that he recognizes, ones who don't serve much of a purpose. He'll rectify that. The other few cameras produce similar, or no, results.
He switches the camera a final time and it reveals you, your personal cell. You've shut the curtains in an attempt to block out the hall lightâyou'll lay down to rest soon, he knows your routineâonly the combined visibility of the desk lamp and a few ambient candles illuminate you.
Even with the diminished quality of the cameras, he can see the items in your cell. It's certainly upgraded from what you started with; there's a bookshelf, filled end-to-end with books he himself picked out for you. Media on topics such as modern art and familial dynamics⊠he's sure you've read them all by now. Many of the items and trinkets that decorate your room are unique to only you.
You're a parallel to him; sitting at your personal station. Your profile shines bright from where you rest your cheek in your hand, sitting idly at your desk. You fiddle with the radio, visibly bored with what little there is to do. After a moment, he sees interest seeping into your spine, posture straightening. You must be listening to the message he recorded for you today. It's longer than his usual recordingsâyou adjust the machine and he figures you must be replaying the audio, attentive as you first were.
For a moment heâs unsure of your intentions when your eyes check the door and your hand drifts into your lap. Quickly, he realizes that your handâs slipped beneath your underwear, moving in quick circles beneath the rigid barrier. The blood rushes to his cock so quick that heâs almost nauseatingly lightheaded.
He takes a heavy drag from his now limply held cigarette to stabilize himself, letting the nicotine wash over him and coat his lungs as he recalls the recording youâre reverently masturbating to:
âThe outside world is sick, killing itself like a snake swallowing its tail. Let Daddy be your medicine. Let me take care of you the way no one else can.â
Your hand circles your clit even quicker. The camera angleâs poor but he can see the tight pinch of your brow, are you pushing yourself? Are you basking in the masochism, reveling in the sharp edge of too soon, too fast?
Hands shaking, he knows the only course of action is to relieve himself. He pushes his pants aside only enough to free his aching cock, grip weak with exhilaration that he manages to wrap around himself. Thereâs enough pre cum that itâs nearly too slickâintoxicating.
In the haze of lust, he sees your mouth slacken and face twist in pleasure. He so desperately wishes for the cameras to have audio, to hear your whimpering and submission to the onslaught of overstimulation you force upon yourself.
"I'll make you perfect. You are a canvas, waiting for your final masterpiece of masochism and perversion to mark your skin."
Youâve already become so obedient and pliant; yet he aches to break and build you back up, to mold you on his cock.
His mind reels with images of you, how he want to take you. You'd be gorgeous beneath his desk, on your knees like some common whore, waiting to suck his cock like it's the only thing that matters in the world. The painting in his head shifts: you're on your knees, pussy presented like an animal in heat, sultry eye behind your shoulder pulling him in. Only he can satisfy you. You need his cock; you need Daddy.
Cock throbbing, he chokes himself on nicotine as to not lose himself so soon. You writhe on the footage, bordering on humping your hand as your thighs clamp around your wrist, desperate to cum. Bite marks litter across your finger from where you bite down, like you're strung so tight from your arousal that you can hardly control your noises without it. His eyes laser focus on your covered hand, rapidly pumping his cock in time with you.
His heartbeat's in his throat. He's unsure if he's even breathing anymore, floating on the high.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel my gentle caress on you, painting our crimson future? The world will be perfectly colorful and obedient with you in it."
Your finger drops from your once-again slack mouth and your eyes screw shut. He's so close, he can feel the waves of pleasure licking his spine, water against the rocks. Sudden as it started your back bows, quivering chest pointed towards the camera as your head falls back. He can practically hear it now, your unashamed moans as you fall over the edge. He falls with you, coating his hand with his cum as he tries his hardest to not whimper.
You've yet to stop. You continue fucking yourself well past your crest, body twitching in jolts of pain because you can't, won't stop, not yet. His cock twitches in sadistic glee.
"My muse. I have great things planned for you."
As he watches you come down, exhausted and fingers slick, he thinks he'll have to gift you something grand.
hope u enjoyed. i tried to keep his mannerisms and behavior accurate but iâm only human đđđ
You and Jayce Talis are friends â good friends, even â and itâs no surprise for the two of you to be found drinking. Youâre young, free from the shackles of true responsibility, and the bar is the perfect place to go.
What does surprise you, however it came to be, is what falls into your hands when you invite him into your apartment after a night out.
tags: smut, mutual pining, AU!modern setting but itâs not explicitly stated, sub!jayce, WHO SAID THAT(!!!), loss of virginity because HELLO JAYCE ARCANE. NOT beta read. forgive me
wc: 4.5k
Golden eyes â happy sun-yellow, warm and bubbling companionably with tipsy indulgence â meet yours.
Your gaze falters for a moment as you take him in; the unsteady lean against the bar which he tries to play off as a suave stance, the slight shine on his lips from his drink.
âYouâre such a lightweight,â Jayce says, small smile curling his lips â which are only slightly asymmetrical, youâve stared at them often enough to recognize it.
The recognition you have has been built over the past months. Two academy students; oriented together in the same lectures seats apart, till the courses increased and the distance dimmed, sat side-by-side.
Your connection had grown in the class setting, though it thrived outside of itâ blooming like a flower exposed to the sun. Conversations started with work, class, then shifted into something more boisterous, entertaining, to nights in the bar more than was healthy.
âBull,â you retort, making move to stand from your chair. Youâd meant to leave ages ago, when you saw how depressing the bar life had been. It was a weekday, and you and Jayce were mixed along with divorced singles and depressed fathers. Jayceâs company, however, kept you idle.
Heâs kind enough to not mention your slight sway when you rise from your seat. You pull your coat on, closing it under your chin, and he does the same.
âTake me home,â you say, joke lacing your tone, and he complies. He holds his arm out for you to grasp onto, which you gratefully take as he leads the two of you into the chilly night.
âDo we have a drinking problem?â You ask, recalling your frequency at the bar. You pull yourself closer to his side, leeching the warm heat that emulated from him as easy as breathing.
The night streets are dimmed, shrouding the intricate architecture and well-loved streets from your eyes. It meant little, not when the both of you knew the way like muscle memory. Your feet carry you easily, shuffling softly against the streets.
In the dark, you canât see his features when he turns to look at you, making his voice more clear in the position. âMaybe you do,â he says, and you know he has a smug look on his face, one eyebrow raised â the right one, with the knick in it. Part of you wishes to see it.
You scoff, playfully swatting his padded arm as you accuse him of being beside you all those drunken nights. Youthful laughter echoes through the street, quieting down as you turn once, twice onto your street.
He departs from you, keeping an eye as you reach your apartment door. You stand there silently for a moment, contemplating, then turn towards him. You know you must look odd, fondling the doorknob and standing still like you donât know how to open your door.
âDo you want to come in?â You ask, surprising yourself with the question as you do. You arenât sure what your intentions are; helping a friend get out of the climate, or help him take his pants off. Either would be fine.
Fortunately the weather has long turned cold, winter swirling around the corner, and the wind is the perfect explanation for the heat in your cheeks â just nipped numb and warm from the weather, nothing more.
His brows raise in surprise, like he isnât sure either of your intent either. âYeah, yes.âHe nods quickly, taking a moment to bury his face in his coat as you turn away.
Your home is dark, quiet, with midnight-moon light painting a cool glow over the belongings within. Flicking on one light, a lamp near the couch, you move with a one-track mind.
Shucking off your coat, then hobbling over to rip your shoes off, which Jayce laughs at when you stumble, though he denies this. You ask yourself why you invited him in as you move about, though you arenât opposed to the idea â you enjoy his company, his refreshing intelligence, the kindness he possessed to do good and share it.
You plop yourself on the couch, your lack of full sobriety existing as a slight tingle behind your eyes, giving you the kick you need. âCome hither,â you joke, motioning with your finger as you rest your head against one cushion.
Jayce has been in your home often enough to recognize where his belongings go, how you want him to kick his shoes off at the door, before moving to join you. He laughs quietly and sits down next to you, eyes swimming with subdued mirth.
Itâs comfortable, sitting together and letting companionable silence come and go like the wind. Easy conversation flows between you, speaking on projects and things processed in the academy, papers to be done and stamped.
Eventually, your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background, a warm sound that reminds you of blankets and drinks together, although it means little in the moment.
Openly, you watch his lips. You wonder if theyâre soft, if you can taste the drink on his breath and lick the remnants from his mouth. Typically youâd reel these thoughts in, slap a big shame sticker atop them, though you have little care in your happy state.
You begin to scoot closer, inch by inch. Jayce doesnât notice till he does, eyebrows silently furrowed as he tries to deduce if youâve moved closer, or if heâs had too much to drink.
Youâre not quite sure what your plan is, what your means are. Distracted by the premise of your feelings, Jayce could ask you if you were an idiot, and in your otherworldly state youâd probably say yeah, sure, without processing the question.
One inch, then another, and youâre sat beside him. You can feel his legs shift beside you, always having to move, to fidget. Heâs long been quiet, watching you with open curiosity and, perhaps wariness, as you gaze upon him.
Your head comes to rest upon his shoulders, and you know the angle looks good on you â coy smile pulling at your lips, long lashes fluttering around your open, speaking eyes â and he stares at you in surprise.
Slipping slowly, your hand trails up his bicep â youâre unsure what your plan is, but it feels good to exist here, here in the moment, and maybe your past self was wrong for withholding you â and settles on the curve of his chest.
Thereâs a clear shift in the means of his visit by now, and heâs caught on. Heâs watching, waiting expectantly, seeing if this is a prank or something more, something real and curling around his heart.
Yellow eyes turned sunset-sky dark, overshadowed by the slight of his dilated pupils, watch you. Thereâs a question lingering in his open eyes, one of uncertainty and for the knowledge of more.
âJayce,â you sigh, unable to articulate your want and your certainty through nothing more than a whisper. Your hands are at his chest â not quite pawing at the softness like youâd like â fingers drawing impatient lines.
A breath, two, then you will yourself to move in. You feel air pass between you, still shifting into electric sparks as your lips near one another. You can envision the curve of his lips as your lids shut, how itâll feel licking into his mouth. Just before they do, Jayce stops you.
âIâmâŠâ his voice is low, face pinched in a grimace. âIâve never, IâmâŠâ
Never⊠what? And oh, surprise hits you like a truck when the realization settles. Jayce Talis, a virgin? Your thoughts must show on your face because he starts to scoot away from you, shutting himself out.
Quickly, you grab his bicep. âThatâs okay.â You squeeze reassuringly, hoping and praying you havenât scared him off. Jayce was, above all else and the lust in your brain, once of your closest friends. âSeriously. And Iâm fine going as fast or⊠or as slow as you want.â
He looks at you disbelievingly, though a hesitant smile plays on his face. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you confirm. Shamefully, part of you revels in this. Heat licks at your groin at the thought of being the only one to see him so, to have his hands on your skin and voice in your ear.
Heâs not saying no to you, heâs warning you, between the lines saying he wants you to be the first. You should take this revelation slow, have a first date and build up the promise of the good he could have. Your mouth moves before you can decide. âLet me⊠show you a good time?â
He nods, both of you lost for words as the gap diminishes. The ache inside you â thumping heavily in your chest and urging your hands to move, feel â burns brighter, gasoline of his lips exciting it so.
The moment your lips connect, you canât help but sigh. The sparks you felt are burning, urging you to slip closer, to shut your eyes snd let the waves wash over you.
Jayce is enthusiastic, lips clumsily pressing against yours in a rhythm thatâs hard to follow. You donât find fault in that, not when you know youâre shaking with just as much need as he is. In the interval, where your breaths are one and your skin is hot, his need slips and he begins to follow your lead.
You push him against the couch, eyes still shut and unwilling to depart from him more than necessary. He gasps into your mouth when you settle in his lap, fists clenched painfully at his sides as heâs uncertain of what to do, how to do it.
Unrelenting, you push further into him. He loves this, it seems, as he arches in response, curling himself into the warmth and smell of you. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, memorizing the dips and curves of his body on the chance youâll never experience this again. Ever the multitasker, your hands begin to fumble the buttons on his shirt, painstakingly slipping them free till his torso is bare to you.
Your lips separate from his, dragging a slick trail of kisses of want across his cheek, jaw, the thin skin by his ear. Oh, you know youâre doing something right when his head falls to your shoulder, pitched sigh of his gracing your ear as you suck the skin.
Flushed, the mark left behind blooms. Thereâs a tenseness in his shoulders as you draw back to review your work, and for a breath you worry that youâve done something wrong. It dawns on you when you see the shift of his hips, the slight press into the seat below, that heâs resisting the urge to grind.
Heat blooms in your core when you realize heâs trying to be good, to follow your unspoken instructions to follow your lead. You take incentive and grind your clothed cunt against his tented trousers, the grind wonderfully heavy as the seam of your pants press against your clit.
His hips rut upwards sharply, surprised moan warm against your collarbones. Open-mouthed breaths pass between you, swirling in the air and suffocating in your ears, as the two of you curve together. His upwards grinds are inconsistent and fueled by his natural instinct to move, but lack of experience simmers alongside it.
You whisper Jayceâs name with a soft hand on his chest, which he takes as sign to stop. He doesnât seem to process that his hips are still shifting an inch, like heâll explode if he ceases his movements, but he watches you painfully expectantly.
The room is dim as you hadnât bothered to flick on the light, though an adjacent lamp beams behind your head, haloing a soft glow around your head that blocks the light from kissing along his frame. For a moment you wish you withheld till you got to your bedroom or at least flicked on more light.
That worry passes by quickly when you take in what you can see â the soft parting of his reddened lips, the pleased furrow of his brows â heâs looking at you like youâre the lit candle in a shrouded room, like youâre the illuminated masterpiece of art in a room of lackluster beauties.
You can feel his clothed cock against your core, impatiently pressing close enough as though he could break out of his pants and yours. Grasping the back of the couch, you lean forward. You lift your hips by a few inches, punctuating your lifted dance with a hearty grind.
Curling and warming; youâd been tipsy when you entered your apartment, drink pulsing in your blood and inebriating your veins. Arousal and want for more pulsed instead, shaking your hands and holding your breath, and you werenât sure you could live with the unresolved tension.
âHow do you want me?â You ask breathlessly, though you arenât sure he could answer. Heâs been panting against your skin, wet lips dragging along the unmarred canvas. His grip on you, once shy and courteous, now hold you with such strength that he could fuck up into you however.
A whine. âMy hands? Mouth? âŠâ thereâs a question that hangs in the silence. Do you want to fuck me? It asks. You swallow thickly imagining it, of him bending you over the couch or you in his lap, whispering in his ear as he whimpered in yours. He must be imagining the same because he presses into your heat, jumpy for you.
âYouâ well, hah,â Jayce babbles, sentence accentuated by his soft moan. You can hear the click of his throat as he swallows, voice almost hoarse as he speaks, âanywhere, anything. Just you, please.â
Your breath stutters for a moment, unsure how to respond appropriately. You lean forward and press your lips to his â sharing your unspoken want through unrelenting kisses, your shared pining in your teeth as you nip at his lip.
After a breath and slick kisses, you part from him and he lifts himself trying to chase your lips. He looks almost pained to be separated from you, the heat of your body. You shimmy down his frame, nudging his legs apart to kneel between them.
âYouâre going toâ you want toâ?â He asks, shocked at the motion youâve set. You give him a look, one of disbelief and certainty. He nods, understanding, more than excited to let the waves pass over him.
Your hands settle first at his knees, then slowly dance up the covered skin, fingers twirling and leaving a trail of promises as they near where he must be aching. Every drag upwards seems to hurt him with the way his muscles dramatically tense, brow pinching inch and inch further.
With you gripping his thighs for support, you lean in. You press your mouth against his groin, cheek petting the fabric as you kiss where his cock rests. He jumps like heâs been burned, then curls in towards you like he isnât sure if he wants to run away or into the feeling.
You take a breath to look up at Jayce, though you donât separate yourself from him. You imagine that the sensation is dimmed through all the fabric, but his mouth hangs open like youâre already sucking him off. His arm sits on the backrest, curling to press the back of his hand against his open lips.
It must be an erotic sight, you realize. Your frame, small when compared to his in this scenario, pressed against his long, long legs, like youâre trapped there. His eyes â golden sun, marigold circle around his blown pupils â wonât leave yours as you blink hazily up at him, nuzzling against his cock like youâre worshipping it, him.
Pressing your cheek against his thigh, you lift your free hand up. Your fingers dance along the seam of his pants, curling excitedly along where the button rests. One of the two layers that separates you from the heat of him, youâre glad to be rid of it.
You look up to him, silent question gracing him as your nimble digits circle the button. This is his first time â you donât want to push him, overwhelm him, but you want him â and you can see heâs nervous in the stiffness of his frame.
âWe donât have to do anything.â You softly remind him, fingers smoothing away an invisible wrinkle in his pants. Your hands are antsy.
âNo, noâ Gods, pleaseââ he closes his eyes, legs spreading further in an invitation, âI want you.â I want you if you want me, he means.
Jayceâs hands slip to his pants before you can, pushing the button through the eyelet and hold your breath in your chest till it hurts, and you aid him the rest of the way. He moans unashamedly as the heaviest restriction on his cock is freed, leaving him nearly skin clad.
His boxers are still on, too shy and riddled with nerves to expose himself just yet. Heâs watching you carefully, waiting to see your reaction as if youâd ever react negatively. You halt his worries by returning to your spot, lashes tickling your cheeks as you mouth along the clear shape of him.
âFuuuuuuck,â Jayce whines as you suck on the covered tip of his cock. He canât sit still while your tongue laves the precum-dampened spot on his boxers, wetting the fabric till it plastered to his cock within. His thighs are shaking next to your dipped head, like heâs fighting the urge to clamp them against your skull.
Youâve hardly done anything and heâs already falling apart. You peek up at him to the best of your ability, unwilling to pull away your mouth; his head is tipped back, only leaving his heaving chest for you to see, in and out.
Such open and honest responses have you sighing against him, focusing on the feel of him against you and the heavy pulsing in your cunt. You feel like youâre about to explode, like a bubbling kettle bursting with steam at the edges. Your lid is about to pop.
The pressure has long gone past aching, so you decide to relieve yourself with your free hand. You pop open the button on your pants with a quiet jingle, fingers slipping between your folds. You huff, warm breath wrapping around Jayceâs cock and it jumps against your skin.
Thereâs a sharp intake of air above you, and you open your eyes to find Jayce watching you. Your gaze meets just as the meat of your palm grinds against your clit, mouth dropping open as pleasure shoots up your spine.
You whimper his name, face shifting momentarily away as you forget what you were occupied with, and he chokes on air. His hand comes down quickly to grasp himself, breathing through the motions, like he was about to cum. âYou⊠oh,â he whispers, starstruck. Heâs getting off on this, seeing you lose yourself with his name in your mouth.
He canât help himself, it seems, as he takes himself fully in hand and his boxers start to fall away. Thereâs a soft shlick sound that fills the air, wet head of his cock sliding his hands smoothly. His open-mouthed panting shows how overwhelmed he is, how one squeeze too many could have his cum painting his knuckles.
You wonder what heâs thinking about, if heâs imagining fucking you or painting your face. Watching him, you ache. You have to have him now, you decide as his thick hands squeeze himself indulgently.
You bat away his hand and he easily complies, nails poking under the band of his shifting boxers as you look up to him with the unspoken question. He nods enthusiastically, no longer shy and embarrassed, and lifts his hips to assist you.
He pops completely free from his boxers and exhales thankfully. You, on the same level, are incredibly thankful to be here. The tip of his cock shines with precum, twitching something fierce when you reach forward and use your still-slick hand to pull the foreskin down and expose him to the cool air.
Your hand slips, inching down the length of his shaft till your thumb rests on the sensitive circle of skin just by his sack, thumb circling softly. Jayce squirms under the pressure, though unwilling to voice his needs without your say-so or inquiry â always looking to please.
Lips trailing, you kiss up his exposed thigh, biting back a pleased smile when the muscle twitches beneath your touch. Trailing further and further up⊠you pass by his cock, much to his dismay.
The soft fuzz of his abdomen tickles your face where you press against him, stomach twitching beside you. As you lean more into the couch, his cock presses against your chest. He squirms, as if burdened by the uncomfortable pressure.
âPlease,â Jayce says, never having been burdened by his open emotions and desires. You love that about him. He begins to murmur nearly inaudibly, âplease, please, pleaseâŠâ
You draw back, looking inquisitively at him. You know youâre playing mean, though you canât bring yourself to feel guilt. âPlease what?â
âI wantâŠâ he swallows, thinking about how he should respond. âI want your mouth on me. Please.â
âMy mouth was just on you.â You remind him, head tilted to the side.
âMyâ my cock.â He relents. His ears must be burning with a shocked flush, but you arenât paying enough attention to actually check. âI want you to suck me off,â he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, âI feel like Iâm about to explode.â
Laughing softly, you move to fulfill his request. The air in your living room has shifted multiple times throughout the evening â once electric and stifling, now shifting into something slower, more memorable.
Your mouth falls open and you lick up the side of his cock, lips plump around his shaft. You can tell heâs shaking from the anticipation, and you wonder how long heâll last.
You breathe in once and then wrap your lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly as to not overwhelm him.
âYesâ oh, yes,â Jayce is loud with it, his gratitude and pleasure. Heâs trying not to move too much underneath you, to let you work as you please, but he canât resist his back from arching dramatically. You pray the neighbors donât hear his cries. âHah, ohâŠâ
Bobbing slightly, you let yourself be lost to the sensation. You urge yourself to take him in further, to press your tongue against his sensitive underside as the head glides smoothly into your waiting mouth. With each slip down, you catch a whiff of him â woodsy like charcoal, mixed in with the natural scent of him that embodies him so well.
You know heâs not going to last longer when his cock twitches in your mouth, gasps of his filling your ears and traveling straight to your clit.
âOh, youââ heâs mewling now, unable to resist the slight curve of his hips into your mouth. His hand comes to curl in your hair, not demanding, but rather grounding himself as the world slips away. âFuck, yesâ yesyesyesyesââ
You pull your mouth up as spurts of him start to coat your tongue. Heâs fighting to keep his lids open, to watch as you open yourself so readily for him. Lips parting, your tongue cradles the underside of his cock as his cum paints your tastebuds â salty, enticing you for more â and his jumping tip.
He sits still for a moment, recalibrating his sensors as you let the sense wash over you. With one final suck and kiss, which Jayce gasps and jolts with as the sensitivity burns him, you pull off him.
âThat wasâŠâ Jayce wheezes, dopey smile pulling at his uneven lips. You laugh in agreement, taking in his wrecked form as you do, the sheen on his bare skin. âHoly shit. Get up here,â he leans over and pulls you up onto his lap with a strength you forgot he possessed.
He breathes against you for a moment, arching into your touch as your hands glide across his skin. If he could, you imagine heâd be purring. He pulls back from you to meet your eyes, a powerful glint in his own; the same one he possesses when he has an excellent, exciting plan.
âCan I⊠return the favor?â His fingers curl at your open waistband, still unbuttoned from your earlier pursuits. At the mention, your arousal floods back overwhelmingly fast, knocking your knees weak. You nod quickly, afraid words would fail you.
Your pants are gone in an instant â albeit with an awkward dance as neither of you want to separate, chests heaving and dragging together in the tight spot youâve dug â leaving you bare at the waist down. Wet, damp, you press against his open thigh and the slight pressure has your back curling.
âShow me how,â Jayce says, unashamed and eager with a boyish giddiness.
âTake your hand⊠here likeâ uhn,â you hold his wrist in your hand, curling his longest fingers forward before his palm kisses your oversensitive clit. His chest puffs out a smidge at your moan, though you make no move to comment on this.
His fingers are stiff in your cunt as they separate your folds, curling in that âcome hitherâ motion you directed to earlier. Youâre going to love teaching him, you realize, as he soaks up every lesson you grace him with, responding back as a student more enthusiastic than you.
Overwhelming gratitude falls over you in heavy bursts, trickling down your spine like a thick rainfall. Grinding softly, you lean forward and swallow his fingers in your heat.
Youâre not sure if heâs trying to be subtle or doing it subconsciously, though you donât have the energy to ponder; his cock, not hard, rubs against your leg as your whines and huffs kiss his ears.
âGods, youâre better than I imagined.â He says against your temple as you lean forward for support, fingers curling in a mind-numbing race that leaves you unable to respond. You moan loudly at the image this paints; him, fucking his fist or his pillow, stifling his whines as he imagines you bent over, mouth open and saying his name. Jayce, Jayce.
You find yourself hurrying, grinding your clit as hard as possible till it hurts. Youâve been on the edge for ages, and now you find yourself overwhelmed by the sense of all around you. Each push of his fingers into you follows the grind of his hips, and you hope heâs imagining taking you, how the warmth of you would envelop his cock.
One proper twist has your legs buckling, clenching as deep as possible around his fingers as your hips stutter. Youâre huffing in his ear and he whimpers in yours, dragging his oversensitive cock against the curve of your thigh, and oh, Jayceâ
Your head falls against his shoulder. You feel as though youâve been beaten, dragged, and wrung outâ but in a good way, akin to the soreness that follows a massage.
Kissing up his neck when you find yourself, you peck at the spot you left before. He sighs happily, readjusting you in his arms.
âSo,â he says, and you can feel his voice vibrate against your lips. You imagine his neck words are partnered with an excited grin, masking the uncertainty he showcased earlier, âhowâd I do?â
my inbox is open! feel free to leave comments/ requests, or maybe suggestions for a part two�
 iâve been seeing a lot of posts to the effect of âi wish i could talk to more writers on tumblr, but iâm too shy.â and a lot of the replies are âyou can talk to me, i donât bite!â which is great, honestly. but these interactions, at least in my experience, rarely lead to anything more.Â
so this is my attempt to compile a list of how to be friends with writeblrs thatâs a little more than just âtalk to people.â i donât know if itâs just common sense for the rest of you, but this is all stuff i had to learn through almost a year on tumblr. im fuckign old omg.
so without further ado, i present: Conversation Starters For Writeblrs.
do they reblog ask games? send asks, off anon. reply to their answers.
see something in common? you both have dragons in your wip? youâre both the same age? tell them!
tag them in things! who actually cares if youâre following the rules of the tag games or not?
if theyâre asking for something, like book recs or advice, answer them.
compliments. literally anything, as long as itâs genuine. send them off anon so people know who you are.Â
reply to their fuckign writing!! pleAse!! and not just âooh this is goodâ (though thatâs nice too), but tell them what you liked! tell them what you were confused about! tell them where you want more detail! weâre all on here because of writing, might as well actually talk about it sometimes!
just. like. ask how their day went.
Also, some thoughts:
youâre not a bother. and even if you are, whoâs going to be rude enough to say it?
someone has to make the first move, it might as well be you.
theyâre just people. weâre all literally just people.
friendship â one interaction. keep trying. keep talking.
hello hello! iâve been gone for a bit working on my career, but i want to say my requests are still open (which iâm still actively working on)! iâm open to writing full-fledged fics or short HC posts. here are the fandoms i write for:
hi, anon. yesâi am currently taking requests! thatâs why i have a list of fandoms on my pinned post (navigation post)!! if youâd like to request me, thank you, and go ahead
Can I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to shy gn crush confessing to him?
confessions
â·Ë àŒÂ * the BG3 boys/reserved!reader * àŒË·â
MILD game spoilers/references to mid-game story progression. youâve been warned!!
someone whoâs reserved isnât typically what astarion looks for. heâs reserved in a senseâkeeping his secrets: conditions and history, close to his chest; but he holds himself up with self-confidence and independence. your quiet and reserved nature is off puttingâuntil he began, reluctantly, talking to you in the hopes of gaining your protection. as time went on, he found out that you werenât that horribleâmaybe he didnât mind you too much. when you confess to him, he doesnât find it surprisingâit is him, after all. heâll lightly make fun of you, but he wonât turn you down.
sweet, sweet gale. if you manage to confess before he does, heâs pleasantly surprisedâconsidering how quickly he gets attached to someone. when you confess to gale and youâre unable to meet his eye, heâs not the type to affectionately tease youâheâs preoccupied by the fact that you are actually interested in him. gale is a confident lover when time passes between you, but he spent ages under mystraâs hand and a year locked in his towerâheâs a little rusty. gale and a reserved partner go hand in hand; gale likes to lead in a conversation and in a relationship, and youâre more than happy to put your trust in him.
wyll is graceful and chivalrous. when you come to him in camp one day, obviously nervous, he softly holds one of your hands and soothingly runs his fingers over your knuckles. if youâre hesitant about love and PDAâdonât worry, wyll is the man for you. wyll likes traditionalism, he likes to take it slow. youâll have time to ease into the relationship because heâs courteousâchaste kisses, fleeting touches.
halsin is someone easy to chat with. his nature is kind and open, relatableâfrom one leader to another, and itâs easy to fall into a conversation with him time and time again by the fire. halsin says he can sense the good in you, and itâs only natural to fall by your side. when you do manage to confess to him, itâs no surprise. he was simply waiting for you, and itâs only right to slip into this dynamic with him.
you never quite had the opportunity to confess to dammon when he still occupied the grove, so itâs a welcoming surprise when you find him in the grim scenery of the last light inn. dammon always appreciated that you were kind to him as the tieflings were never looked upon favorably, so heâs just as happy to see you. dammon is sweet and soft spoken, willing to take the initiative when you canât. when you come to him at the inn, visibly nervous and preoccupied with yourself, he indulges you in small talk about his trade until youâre able to speak whatever it is youâre thinking of. itâs easy for him to reciprocate, and he promises you a private date in the city.
itâs obvious rolan saw you in a less than favorable light at first. to enabling his siblingsâ wishes to stay at the grove and failing to save them in the shadowlands, rolan wasnât pleased with youâno matter how pretty he thought you were at first. to his surprise, you save his siblings, and he maybe starts to feel a bit guilty. rolan reeks of self confidence, but finds himself struggling to apologize to you and admit that maybe youâre not that bad. he later laughs when he realizes that he was just as timid as you were during the whole ordeal, entirely standoffishâit completely eases the worries of your confession.
zevlor isnât someone who looks for romance. he isnât a terrible bachelorânot unattractive or generally unlikableâheâs just preoccupied with handling himself and the people he looks after. when you came to the grove, zevlor found that he admired youâone leader to another. you advocated for his people, you made sure they were well, and he liked that you were dependable and trustworthy. when you confess to him that you find him just a bit more than admirable a day before the tieflings are set to leave the grove, heâs shocked. the feelings are easily reciprocated, and he wishes to see you again sometimeâmaybe in the city.
thank u for the prompt. astarion was the most difficult to write for. feel free to send me requests on my page!
Would you accept requests for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor? Would you mind if we request 7 characters for headcanons? Thanks!
absolutely! just send me another request asking for a specific prompt (assuming itâs for a specific situation or relationship headcanons) for all the characters youâre asking for and iâll get to work đ«Ą.
Do you do scenarios or headcanons? If so, how many characters can we request for scenarios or headcanons? Would you do the same prompt with different characters? Can we request for male reader, female reader, gender neutral reader, etc? Are there any characters you won't do in each fandom? Would you accept requests that briefly mentions suicide? Do you do poly ships x reader? Would you mind if we request for Alternate Universes or Aus like AU where the character lives happily? Would you mind if the request is suggestive, implied sex, or mentioned sex but no explicit sex? Would you do NSFW requests? For Baldur's Gate 3 requests, would you mind if we don't specify the race/class to leave it ambiguous or if we ask specify the race/class like human/healer? What kinks would you accept for requests? Thank you in advance!
guidelines
scenarios and/or headcanons? yes! these types of prompts are big on tumblr and i want to cater to the people. theyâre fun, too. any number of characters is okay to request as long as itâs realistic. will i do 50 characters at once? no, but iâll do a bigger group like all six of the BG3 companions. this means iâll do the same prompt for all six of those characters as well.
how much content in requests? i appreciate specific requests with a lot of content for me to go off of (though i might not use it all), but general requests are fine too. BG3 requests donât have to be specific to the race and class, but iâm not upset if they are. go crazy.
what kind of content? iâll write just about anything. iâll write something entirely based in canon, or an AU where they have completely different lives (with the same personality). iâm okay with writing violent content, graphic content is a big in most of the fandoms i write for.
excluded content? i will not write explicit rape, necrophilia, rapeplay, explicit sexual assault, and this applies to the love interest as well. iâm not writing something about ascended astarion beating you up and iâm not writing about the reader being abusive either. am i okay with someone mentioning suicide or a past traumatic incident? generally, yes, but itâll depend on the type of request i receive.
NSFW? yes, iâll write NSFW content! iâm fine with writing a brief mention of sex or a full, explicit sex scene. also, i wonât turn away a request if itâs entirely NSFW-based.
kinks? any kink is fine with me except rapeplay, something around age regression, fecal fetishes, pee kinks, vomit kinks, and daddy kinks (i shudder at the mention of âdaddyâ and âkittenâ). i should mention that i AM okay with bodily fluids with things like cum eating or a sweat kink, i just canât do the ones i mentioned before.
any excluded characters? i love evil and morally gray characters, but i wonât write a sappy scenario for a character whoâs known for hitting their partner or being abusive in general. realistically, theyâll beat you up too⊠and not in a fun way. this is a general warning. ascended astarion comes to mind, tbh. heâs too funky for me.
relationships? iâll write any relationship besides something thatâs incestuous. iâll write something x reader, two characters shipped together, or a whole polycule. any size relationship is fine, really. you can ask for a queer relationship. you can also ask for a gn!reader scenario or a specific-identity prompt. generally, if itâs not important, iâll just make the reader gn. i noticed thereâs not a lot of m!reader content in general, so feel free to ask for that in any fandom.
thank u 4 sending this in! i needed to get my guidelines done and this was a good opportunity
thinner lines because Iâm experimenting ! I kinda dig it; I might change the rest of my line dividers to thinner lines. anyway, more post dividers and other patterns coming soon. :3
patterns : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004 / 005
feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credită
can i have a little fic of legolas x elf reader braiding each otherâa hair? can be in any setting đ«¶
i guessâŠ. đđ
braid my hair (if i braid yours)
legolas/gn!reader
a short and sweet drabble, nothing but a nice conversation with soothing hands. about .7k words! iâm a little evil and i changed the prompt a wee bit.
Itâd been a simple day of travel, eased by echoed chatter among your fellows and the comforting allure of nature. Your party came to a halt when exhaustion and being famished began to gnaw at the edge of everyoneâs attentionâurged, by the constant complaints of two hobbits.
Uncaringly, you drop your belongings somewhere, generally, in the clearing of your makeshift camp. Your mind begins to wander as the voices of your companions fadeâ you hear Gimliâs boisterous voice as he pars with someone or another, informing them on how to properly hunt for dinner.
You huff in amusement before the wind begins to whip your hair against your face like a punishment. You curse to yourself, dragging remnants of your hair our of your mouth before a voice drags your irritation away from the front of your mind.
âYou should tie your hair back.â Legolas, the sneak, says, not even announced by the crunch of the forest floor. Youâd become accustomed to his quick yet silent nature, after instances one too many of you nearly tumbling off a cliffside from being startled.
âIs that so?â You reply almost absentmindedly, watching as he gingerly sits on an upturned tree. You flick your heft of hair over your shoulder as you sit besides him, ignoring the uncomfortable pricks of the bark. This position wasnât unfamiliar to youâyouâd found him intriguing, his nature was silent yet occupied with quips of wisdomâyou spent nights beside him conversing as though you were old acquaintances. âI donât care to braid my hair, honestly.â
He corrects you, a small smile gracing his features. You drop your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the softness to his face as he spoke. âYou have no patience for it, you mean. I do.â
You raise an eyebrow. âAnd you said nothing to me the entire day?â
âI was waiting to see if you came to a conclusion yourself.â He says with a twinge of tease, lacing his tone as a parallel to the sweet smile on his face. He urges you forward with a flick of his fingers, âCome. Iâll aid you this once.â
You turn your back to him, presenting your entanglement of hair. You fall comfortable in the companionable silence that follows his focus. His hands glide through your hair, separating the chunks to rhythmically tend toâover, under. You resist the urge to sigh as his hands deftly massage your head as well, focusing on your thoughts instead. You wonder if his face is pinched in concentration, or smoothed from peacefulness as his hands traveled.
âDo you regret volunteering for the fellowship?â You ask, ignoring the urge to turn and face him as you spoke. None of those whoâd volunteered to join the journey had planned to do so, those that came had arrived with the precipice of another task on their mind.
You suppose the answer is simple, because he answers without faltering. âNo. To be courageous is to be spontaneous.â He adds, âThis is a⊠very tasking trip, though.â
You laugh, and a surge of confidence spurs you, perhaps from the protection that comes with facing awayâthereâs no confusion or irritation to be presented with and sink your hopes. You lick your lips, fiddling with the cloth that lines your thighs as you ponder your question. You add on, knowing your innuendo is clear, âThen do you like the company you keep on this long, terrible journey?â
You feel his hands falter in their pattern through your hairâsurprising, considering the courage and display of assurance you often saw. Disappointing, you think, and left an itch of anxiety in the core of your chest from his silenceâassumingely disapproving.
âYes,â His voice is soft, akin to the sweet melody he spoke when he whispered of the wonders of nature. Youâre surprised, and hold back the urge to perk up from your seated spot. âI do.â
You hum in response, knowing youâre lost for words.
You peer over your shoulder just the once, seeing from the edge of your gaze that a piece of cloth was being wrapped around the tip of your braid by Legolasâ swift hands.
The braid is efficient, and not a single stray hair pokes from its confines. You run your hair over it and nod approvingly, before turning fully to him. You smile, âThank you.â
