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cryptfile · 2 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader #ben x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fluff #cryptfile // bridgerton

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2kiran · 2 months

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hiii hihihi 🫶🏽 got two things

first off, your blog was like my whole reason. honestly. idek how to put it, your writing is immaculate and if i’m gonna be completely honest i joined tumblr cuz of you lol, i don’t think that there’s like any better top male reader blog than yours icl. ‘preciate your writings a lot 🩶

second, if you can i do have a request; harddom!m!reader is asleep but wakes up to sub!keegan weakly bouncing on and cockwarming the reader, with some overstim + a lottt of orgasm denial, so much that keegan passes out and they both fall back asleep together. oh yeah, and the amount of times he’s denied orgasm we carve tallies into him (knife kink omfffhg). pretty much it !

may i also be ⛓️‍💥 anon?

2knote. hello?? thank you so much. I’m very honored, you’re wayy too kind for this. and yeah, absolutely. ⌖ RATED XPLICIT 18+

Awakening to a familiar heat, snug and slick, it has blood rush south of your body and thicken your cock with veritable, unadulterated desire—Wait, what?

You jolt, the action met with a breathless whimper and calloused palms land on your chest. The veil of tranquil slumber lifted, rapidly clearing the murk which had formed in your brain. Your eyes snap wide open, a ragged gasp tearing itself from your throat.

“What the—” You inhale, gaze adjusting to the darkness and soon trailing to the area in between Keegan’s thighs. His hips never paused, lacking strength in his grinds that are too weak to be proper bounces, to be anything. “—fuck are you doing?”

The male in question, Keegan, shamefully mewled upon registering the scratchy rumble of your hoarse voice. He clenched, pornography-worthy in how he’s so fucking tight, and he knows it. He takes advantage of the sweet, promising grip of his hole to greedily take all of you in for his own pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” Keegan whines, rolling forward, your tip nudging his prostate. “Ngh, I n-need you, I–”

He’s interrupted by his own moan, husky and wanton. He breathes out, slowly, his hole peppering kisses along the bulging veins of your cock in abrupt, wet squeezes. His thighs tremble from having to keep himself upright, legs aching as he raises his ass to ride you, only for you to bottom out when his knees buckle.

“Stop.”

He stiffens, his puzzled brain glueing the missing scraps of his intellect together as he fumbled to submit. Keegan’s pupils dilated, pinkish hue dusting his cheeks pretty, and he anticipated with bated breath. His mouth fell agape, senses consumed by the primal function to take what you offer him.

The sensitive head of his cock sobbed with lust, the entire length glistening with arousal. “You’re not cumming ‘till I say you can,” you announce with a hum, shifting to reach for the knife by the nightstand. It was originally intended for precaution, though it wasn’t necessary when you’re entirely protected by the man drunk off your dick.

But with the newfound alternative, it’s used more than it should be. “You got it?”

Keegan had the urge to cry out in frustration. He’s been so good for you, so patient. You should—no, you have to give him what he wants. He doesn’t have an ounce of true brattiness left in him to tell you that, his response a simple nod.

His eyes catch onto the swift movement of you twisting the handle in your grip, the known material like daily clothing now. “Answer.”

He gasps in surprise, goosebumps lapping feverishly at his skin. The warning is immediate, a press of the side of the blade against his bare thigh, the steel freezing and sinister. “Y-yes.”

Yes, but, a train of thoughts driven by desperation begins to rule his mind, I’m so fucking close. I need you to fuck me, not this. Damn it. Outwardly, his eyebrows are drawn together in an angered line.

You hum a light tune, Keegan’s expressions—ones of filthy nature—are comprehensible notes you can play even if you aren’t a musician. Unceremoniously, the knife is angled to the inner side of his thigh and you plunge it in without further consideration. It eagerly breaks skin, his leg jerks and he yelps in surprise, causing the weapon to draw a blood-dotted slash.

“Ahhng- fuck! Wh..what?” Keegan cries out, the pain a suffocating bandage that seizes his form within a death-guaranteed clutch. It hurts, overriding the separator of agony and rapture. You thrust into him, effectively quieting him down to a gasp. “Shut up and fuck yourself on me, yeah?”

His bottom lip quivers, his hands cautiously roam your build until they curl around the framing of your shoulders. God, the emotions stirring in his marathon-beating heart makes it all too easy for him to obey, to have him move his hips like a mutt.

Keegan leans forward, and you tilt your head off the side to offer him access. He takes it, nuzzling his cheek against your neck. The puff of breath he releases is shaky, wobbly as though he was willing himself not to cry.

Mustering up the vitality, he rises until his entrance is swallowing the very tip of your dick. Something heated crimps in the depths of his guts, twisting in compressed knots that threaten to unwind.

It intensifies as he flings himself down, dragging out a raspy moan of “Hmmng-!” with letters of your name added in-between pathetic grunts. He greedily takes in your length, his sudden clenching earns him a long groan. “C’mon... do it. Ride my cock, Kee.”

That was a threat. He whimpers, his head swinging side to side, “I’m, I’m gonna cum. Please, fuck.”

Whick!

Beside the new wound, you swing the knife along the pure skin. The cut is deeper, and he nearly screams.

Thick, red fluid oozes out, gruesome beads sticking to the steel. Pre-cum drips from Keegan’s slit, his hips grinding forward to maintain the contact, the friction burning away the discomfort. “What did I tell you?” You wrench a hand into his hair, yanking him back. Your teeth descend into a particularly sensitive area on his throat, sucking in an angry marking.

His hole reacts to your borderline aggressiveness in rhythmical spasms, ones that tell you he’ll tip over the edge. It wasn’t his fault he was close to bursting any second. You’re too mean, never allotting him the time that’ll grant him recovery.

And he has too many blood that he’ll let you waste.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Hagh... nnmm...”

There’s a feeble ringing in Keegan’s head, the deprivation of flowing life pumping inside of him drowning out anything ever-rational. Your own legs were tainted with a rather disgusting combination.

Harsh lines were indented into the strong layer of his inner thigh, sticky fluid pooling beneath him. A barrier of haze was trapped in his brain, resulting in him losing track of the amount of cuts you’ve inflicted on him.

Has it been four? Six? Perhaps nine?

A mortified wave sweeps across his features. He feels like a cheap, good-for-two-dollars whore.

Yet it feels so fucking good. The risk, the hefty lust blanketing the both of you—all of it. Your release steadily leaked out, a creamy sheen surrounding the base of your length.

A weak moan is what he’s only able to free when the blade sinks into him again, inches dividing the weapon from his core. He’s aching to the point he’s past pleasure, tears streaming down his cheeks as he falls limp against you.

Keegan has been wrapped around your thick cock for longer than he ever has, and he hasn’t cum once - until your rough hand coils to squeeze his shaft, wrist working up and down into slow, calculated strokes that rush him to completion. “Fu-uck, thank you, nfghh shit, t-thank you.” He groans, long and almost a desperate growl. Arousal zaps up his muscled, scarred back lightning-quick.

Hot, blinding white clasps its iron-grip on his wet dick, pearly strands finally, finally shooting out and his rim clenches down tight around you. But you don’t relent. Not yet.

You tug and tug and tug him through his high, forcing him to choke on a split whimper. “Too...” he exhales, torn between rocking into your palm or shoving himself away, “t-too, hfmm, much.”

It aches. His body tightens, tension hinged at his joints and locks until he’s aching. This time, he doesn’t anticipate it when it arrives. He quakes violently against your form, eyes rolling back into his skull, soft sobs echoing throughout the space separating the two of you. “Take it. You can handle this much, can’t you?”

He whines, the sound weak in volume. Your palm is continuously coated with slickness, smearing the wetness each time your stroke reaches the narrow entrance, pressing on it firm enough to reward yourself with his almost-pained grunt. Keegan squirms, attempting to worm his way free from your intoxicating grasp.

God, fuck, his dick is so sore from your torture. Darkness dots the corners of his eyes, his vision beginning to swim. The sensation of your hand clenching around his length fades, disappearing into the void of his blank-state mind. He faintly senses himself twitching, cum splattering on his thighs and on you. With one last exhausted whimper, dreamless fog consumes him entirely.

You set aside the knife, the item in your hand replaced by a towel. Your thumb circles mindless patterns on his nape, rocking him to sleep. Wiping him off, he stirs slightly.

“Hmmm?” He mutters, consciousness slipping into him again.

“Go back to sleep.” You shush, cleaning yourself up before you toss the dirtied rag away and gently lay him next to you.

Keegan nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. A tired, gentle smile rests on his lips before he whispers; “G’night.”

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bookyeom · 3 months

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to care for you — lc

pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”

Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!

Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

He‘s exhausted.

It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.

He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you.

He feels like that a lot these days.

He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.

You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.

Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.

“Chan?”

Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.

There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks.

He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.

“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?

“Why…” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse.

Why are you here?

He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”

His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw.

“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down.

“Off.”

You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.

“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.

“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“

As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you.

“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“

Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this?

You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this.

Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.

“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to.

The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.

“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.

“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”

You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself.

It always hurts.

You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him.

His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over.

Huh?

Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t.

“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin.

You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together.

“You… okay?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.

You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.

Your head spins.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was.

Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.

You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited.

You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.

Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing.

He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over.

How?

When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.

“Hi.”

”You didn’t sleep.”

It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”

It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.

“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.

“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.

Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin.

“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”

It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.

“I mean, yeah? Why else—“

“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“

Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.

“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.

“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face.

“I understand.”

“And I… I probably need some time.”

He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.

“Y/N?”

Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.

”Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”

His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.”

You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you.

It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.

When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.

“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him.

“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”

Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”

You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”

Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”

“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”

You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.”

He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven.

It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut.

"Is that my sweater?"

Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back.

"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”

You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”

You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”

The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does.

“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”

All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”

You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”

Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?”

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it.

“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

“Wait, what?”

Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.

“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”

You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back.

“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.

“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him.

“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”

You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out.

Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.

“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”

You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless.

Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.

Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out.

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#Lee chan fluff #lee chan x reader #dino X reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt angst #svt x reader #dino angst #dino fluff #dino comfort #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt imagine #seventeen imagines #lcfic #my writing

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lizdive · 2 months

Note

hello! platonic aventurine, jing yuan, blade, sunday, boothill, dan heng and dr ratio with a teen!reader who is like lynette from genshin?

please do include lynette’s backstory as well :3

love my girlie lynette i remember when i first got her i maxed her out as quick as possible she’s so pretty <33 idk why tumblr wasn’t cooperating with me while i was trying to format this istg,,,, tysm for requesting !! sorry this took some time,, if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" used to refer to reader ,, reader is a teenager ,, reader is based off of "lynette" from the game genshin impact ,, platonic relationships ,, mentions of being sold, close to being 'used', creepy old men, and other things relating to lynette’s past ,, yanqing is referenced in jing yuan’s part ,, mention of silver wolf in blade’s part ,, mention of march in dan heng’s part ,, mention of screwllum in dr ratio’s part ,, this is not proofread pls ignore typos especially bcs this is so long i cannot proofread this all rn

⭑ AVENTURINE has worked with many people and therefore has seen it all when it comes to appearances and personalities, but you by far are the most interesting person he’s met.

⭑ He’s tried to interact with you before, and every time you give him a bizarre and odd response he only tries harder. Mostly because he wants to properly hold a conversation with you, but also because he wants to see how odd your replies can get.

⭑ He doesn’t blame you for not trusting him so easily. Many who have joined the IPC have done it out of force and therefore trust nobody. He actually feels a bit proud that you are not naive and stay guarded around the other workers so they don’t take advantage of you. Still, he’ll try his best to befriend you so you aren’t alone.

⭑ Finds your swordsmanship very impressive. Your agility and strength brings you praise from him and sometimes he’ll watch you train. You don’t say anything to him as usual. Whenever you spot him you just stare at him with that poker face of yours and continue as if he isn’t even there.

⭑ When he notices how much tea you drink on a daily basis, he’ll gift you the finest tea on the market as a 'good job' for completing missions successfully. You’ll know it’s from him because of it’s value and because he always leaves little notes on the boxes.

⭑ If you ever invite him to have some tea and sweets with you, trust that he will be there whether it be physically or using a hologram if he’s far away. He’ll prepare tea in his location and make it look like he’s actually present with you physically in the moment.

⭑ The longer AVENTURINE spends time with you, the more he finds himself subconsciously keeping a sweet treat with him at all times in case you’re craving something. If you’re off on a mission he’ll make sure to give you money for your tea and sweet treats alone and will ask you to send him pictures of what you got.

⭑ He’s is very interested in your feline features and traits. When you tell him about your rare case of atavism, he’s very intrigued. He may do his own little experiments like buying you cat toys to see your reaction which is up to interpretation. Also, he’ll bring you fish dishes during your lunch breaks whenever you forget to bring your food!

⭑ Loves watching your performances and would be honored if you asked him to assist you! If you ever want to hold something grand-scale he’ll be more than happy to rent you a full theatre to perform in. Best advertisements for your shows and everything.

⭑ When you open up to him about your past, he can only sit there is surprise and pity. You were so young yet already went through so much before joining the IPC. He can relate to you in some ways as well. He knows what it’s like to be sold off to men who only used instead of cared.

⭑ If you tell him that man may still be alive, he’ll do a bit of research. If he is, then AVENTURINE will have a lovely gambling match with him! No worries, it’s all for fun! Fun for you, at least, when you get to go shopping with all the money the man once had but now lost. Buy yourself some nice outfits and self-care products, you deserve it !!

⭑ If you ever have moments where you feel bad or icky from your past, or have nightmares, he’ll always be there to comfort you. Call him, text him, go up to him and ask for comfort, or if he’s near and notices he’ll come and ask you if you’re okay and if you wanna talk about it. He’s good at distractions. Why not have some snacks with him, It’s time for shopping, there’s this new restaurant that opened that serves purely seafood.

⭑ He’ll do the talking for you. If anyone tries to switch from him to you he’ll either let you give the weirdest response ever or steer them back to him. He also appreciates how you don’t beat around the bush and how frank you are.

⭑ You’re bad with machines and tech? AVENTURINE doesn’t think much of it until you wreck the fifth computer that month.. oh well, he’ll just buy you a new one. He’ll try his best to teach you and help you improve and fix your machinery clumsiness, but he’ll also tease you and joke about it.

"Tea is ready, now it's time for a short rest."

"Alright, just let me finish the last paper in this file and I’ll be right there. I have some new news about [+] from the genius society~"

⭑ The general of the Luofu attending your performances instead of working? More likely than you think! You various tricks and acts are a nice pass-time when he doesn’t feel like completing the mountain of paperwork stacked up on his desk. While you aren’t the most expressive person which may lead to some acts come off as dull, he finds amusement in how your personality contradicts your occupation.

⭑ A bit concerned when he spots you walking around the large ship without any supervision on multiple occasions, but it’s not his place to ask and you don’t look distressed or anything (not that you ever do.) However, he’ll order some cloud knights to keep a close eye on you just in case anyone were to try anything.

⭑ JING YUAN found out about your swordsmanship skills from Yanqing. It was when the young boy had returned from his training, utterly exhausted with his hair looking like had been attacked by a wind storm, that he is told about the teen with the feline features has some impressive swordsmanship.

⭑ That’s when his interest was piqued and he tries to interact with you. After performances he’ll give you some praise and ask how you’re doing. This, of course, makes you a bit nervous as this is the general of the luofu and here he his talking to you like you’re his kid,, so you do what you do best and hit him with one of your outlandish responses that makes him pause.

⭑ JING YUAN laughs thinking you’re pulling off one of your acts, but then you do it again and again and by the end of the interaction you have successfully made the general question if his age was getting to him.

⭑ Still, he will continue to praise you and ask how your day is after every performance, sometimes offering a game of starchess if you’re not too busy. His consistency is what gets you to trust him as he shows no ill-intent, especially after you grow closer to Yanqing behind the scenes as the boy constantly spars with you.

⭑ He doesn’t mind how frank and straightforward you can be. Like Aventurine, he’s worked with many different people and appreciates it. Your pokerface is also something he’ll praise you for as it’s very useful in combat and when playing against him.

⭑ When you open up about your past, JING YUAN can’t help the seed of anger that has been planted in him, and the more you share, the more that anger grows. He knows this world is cruel, but he had secretly hoped that it had been kinder to you. His relief is very evident on his features when you tell him that the man hadn’t been able to do anything relating to your body.

⭑ Will issue an order to a small group of cloud knights to find the man who had dared to put you through such a horrible experience. They won’t be the one to use him as a training target, however. That is for JING YUAN to enjoy. Oh, don’t mind him. Something important came up. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. You just enjoy your tea and sweets.

⭑ Speaking of tea and sweets, JING YUAN will always be down for tea time with youHe’ll try to clear at least a nice period in the afternoon to dedicate it to tea time with you. It becomes a tea party as Yanqing join you both sometimes. Takes tea time very seriously and will pause whatever he’s doing to attend. Clock strikes tea time? He’s leaving mid-conversation.

⭑ Cat naps!! It’s a big pile of you, him, mimi, and sometimes Yanqing, all curled up together and slumbering peacefully under the warm sun. He’ll use the excuse of keeping an eye on you when you’re napping just so he can nap as well. He indulges your cat instincts / traits a lot (sometimes you think he’s secretly a cat, too.)

⭑ Finds the fact that you’re very clumsy with machines very funny but also surprising. You’re so skilled with your blade and you perform such intricate acts and tricks that take years go master yet you struggle using a vacuum?? It’s a pretty bad case especially because the luofu is very mechanical-machinery reliant, so if anything randomly breaks, JING YUAN will just sigh as he knows it’s most likely you.

⭑ He won’t always be there to do the talking for you, but he’ll do his best. Plus, not many people will chat with you when the general is around. They’d either be too intimidated or just think it’s not in their place. If you ever wish to avoid social interaction, just stick next to him.

"Animals can also express their feelings. If you listen carefully, you can tell what state they are in. For a kitty, 'Meow~' means they are much happier than 'Meow meow meow!', and in that situation, you can pet them as much as you want and they won't run away."

"Hmm… is that so? Well, mimi makes more of a 'Meow… meow meow meow!' noise when I pet her. What emotion does that convey?"

⭑ This man does not interact with anyone, so how you two became close is still a mystery to the other stellaron hunters. Still, it’s clear that you both have some sort of bond that’s inseparable.

⭑ Missions with the both of you is just comfortable silence. The two of you are like the social outcasts of any setting. Well, at least the missions are completed swiftly. Most of the time, the third person of the mission doesn’t even have to do anything in the combat department. You both just slice and dice.

⭑ There is no doing the talking for each other because nobody talks to you both, anyways. People are too intimidated to talk to you both with how doll-esque you seem and how scary he is. You both are social interaction repellents and it can be a bit annoying for some, but people like Silver Wolf love it.

⭑ You both bond over not being the best with technology and machinery. You both never rarely use your phones and therefore are victims of having your phones used by other people. You both really couldn’t care less.

⭑ BLADE will watch your performances whenever he isn’t busy with missions. If you want him to help you, it’ll take a bit of convincing, especially if it involves you being in enclosures like being in a glass box with water or something. During dangerous tricks like those he’s very focused so nothing bad happens. Would prefer if he was the one at risk instead of you,,,

⭑ If you want to spar with him, he’ll be hesitant. Yes, you’re good with your sword, but he’s much much more skilled and he’s worried he’ll accidentally hurt you. He’l mentor you, however. Teaching is fine, but sparring is a big nono.

⭑ Doesn’t really care much for your feline features. BLADE has seen a lot of hybrids in his time so yours are not a shocker. He’ll be considerate of any boundaries and will make sure people don’t touch your ears or tail of course, but he won’t treat you any differently than any other person.

⭑ Will drink tea with you occasionally but he won’t eat the sweet treats. Likes tea himself, so he’ll enjoy your little tea times. He’ll bring back new types of teas you have yet to try during missions. If he’s going back to the planet or if it’s nearby and you liked a specific type, he’ll buy it again in larger portions so you can drink as much as you want.

⭑ Opening up to him is like talking to a wall. He looks stoic as always on the outside but trust that on the inside he has already thought of over 100 ways to make that man’s life a living hell. Like Jing Yuan, he knows the world is cruel. He will simply be crueler. Doesn’t take long for him to find the man who had bought you, and that day Blade’s bounty is soaring with how big the increase is.

⭑ Not the best with comforting others but if you’re having a bad day because of the memories or feel icky or something BLADE will make sure everyone gives you space and lets you have your you time. Will prepare tea and a snack for you, too.

"I used to think that the golden sun and dark shadows of the night could never understand one another. But in you, I see a kind of strange complexity that has needlessly piqued my curiosity..."

"…mmn.."

⭑ Another one that attends your shows! The news of a rising feline-featured performed piqued his interest, and so on opening night for your first show he could be seen seated in the spectator seats up top.

⭑ Really enjoys how your stoic demeanor balances your dramatic acts. While he knows your lack of enthusiasm isn’t the most encouraging for people to return or interact, he appreciates how different it is from the other over the top performers that litter penacony. SUNDAY soon becomes a regular at your shows.

⭑ It was you who came up to him first. You simply wanted to thank him for his consistent attendance and constant support, but he soon swept you int conversation and no matter how many odd and bizarre responses you gave him, he always managed to adjust to keep the conversation going. You cannot win with him.

⭑ These back-stage / after-show conversations soon become almost as frequent as his attendance to your performances. Also, his frequent attendance does not go unnoticed and when news of the head of the oak family being seen during almost every performance goes viral your popularity skyrockets.

⭑ Have you ever thought of security work as a side-occupation? It was when SUNDAY was escorting you to call a taxi that he saw your swordsmanship in action. Your theatre borders some dangerous territory, but memes were usually taken care of. He now knew who dealt with him as he watched you obliterate the ones that appeared. It reassures him knowing that you can take care of yourself.

⭑ Everyone in his residence knows how serious tea time is. Servants are rushing around in the kitchens trying to prepare the perfect sweets and snacks. To prepare the tea just the way you both like it, hot enough for SUNDAY but cool enough for you. The poor servants’ stress levels are always through the roof when it’s tea time preparation, and you are blissfully unaware of it all. By the time you’re in sunday’s office or lounge, everything has already been prepared.

⭑ Just like you are intrigued by SUNDAY’s halovian features, he is intrigued by your feline features. When you both are close enough, he’ll let you preen his wings and you’ll let him groom your ears and tail. He’s much more fussy with you, however. The second he spots a stray strand of fur in his office, he’s demanding your presence so he can get rid of the rest of the loose fur. He’ll get even more fussy before your performances and will always do last-minute checks before you’re out on stage.

⭑ Another one that appreciates your honesty and how you always cut straight to the point. Can always rely on you to tell him what he needs when he needs it. Also, your attention to detail is very useful and sometimes he’ll ask of you to focus on certain people during a show and report back to him.

⭑ The second you begin to open up about your past, SUNDAY is right beside you reassuring you to take it slow especially when you tell him about the man you were sold to. He’s pissed, rightfully so, but during the moment he’s supportive and makes sure to make it very clear that you are not anything negative you say about yourself should you do so.

⭑ SUNDAY is very good at interrogations, and with THEIR ability he’ll know if that wretched scum lies to him. There is no justifying, there is no 'the past is past' — there is no redemption. Once the man admits all he has done, he will be rid of. Vanished off the face of the cosmos. Nobody will know anything about him.

⭑ He’ll help you practice for performances, but he won’t go up on stage with you. He’d rather watch from afar as he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight from you. Your show nights are all about you, and he’ll make sure of it. There will be no disturbances and no casualties.

⭑ Funds all of your performances. Buys you any and all equipment you want and need. Want to expand your theatre? Done and without any charge. SUNDAY is your number one supporter and defender !!

⭑ He doesn’t mind doing the talking for you, but he’ll try and encourage you to talk for yourself. It would do you good to indulge in some small talk and conversation every once in a while! But if you insist you don’t want to and just want to be left alone without conversation, he’ll understand and drop it.

"After the sun goes down, the desires hidden in people's hearts will rise to the surface... I mean— evening shows are spectacular. Should I reserve a ticket for you?"

"Ahaha, yes, please do reserve a ticket."

⭑ Was creeped out the moment he met you. You were so still and expressionless that he thought you were a doll until you suddenly rushed forward and beat ass. If he had a heart it would’ve definitely stopped.

⭑ BOOTHILL couldn’t deny your swordsmanship was praiseworthy, however. Your agility, your sharp cuts, everything about it was impressive for someone your age. He tried to praise you but you gave him that stoic look and blurted out the most random sentence he’s heard and walked away leaving him dazed.

⭑ It doesn’t matter if your shows are expensive or not, BOOTHILL WILL get himself a ticket just to be able to figure out what it is with you. Also, because the idea of your dull expressionless self doing magic tricks had him doubling over in laughter. However, he was surprised at how professional you were with every act and trick.

⭑ Managed to sneak backstage and looked around for you only to find you gone. Was disappointed because he really did want to praise you for your skill— well, now skills. And maybe wanted to know who the hell trained you and how you were so good for a teenager. Oh well, there was always the next show.

⭑ Or, there was always that same night. Saving you from some creepy men who were trying to do Aeons know what was all it took for you to glue yourself to him and use him as your meat shield. Not that BOOTHILL minded, it was kinda of in his job description and his morals to protect innocent people, especially when they were on the younger side.

⭑ He’s still a bit creeped out by how you’re so.. doll. You follow him around like a reserved duckling. And it’s not just following him around until the end of his stay — no, he literally finds you grabbing onto his jacket as he makes his way to leave to complete another bounty. There’s no getting rid of you and he’s accepted that.

⭑ He’ll definitely tease you about your feline features and behaviors. Calls you a clingy cat and will buy you cat toys as jokes. If you get upset, he’ll quickly apologize and make it up to you by taking you to your favorite seafood restaurant and letting you get whatever you want. If you don’t mind the jokes, then you’ll have a pile of cat toys that grows with each month!

⭑ Didn’t understand why you’d always stand in the corner of his mechanic’s shop when he was getting upgrades or repaired. He though it was just some teenage shyness but then one night he watched you blow up a literal vacuum. Terrified of you messing with his wires while he’s asleep charging. He tried to help, but gave up and backed away when you proceeded to fry your phone because it overheated.

⭑ Finds it absolutely hilarious when you’re interacting with people. Whether it’s your brutal honesty when talking to others or just one of your flabbergasting sentences to get them to leave you alone, it’s all comedic gold to him. Until it’s targeted at him,,, then uhm,,, yeah,,, okay maybe it’s a bit funny but still,,,,,

⭑ BOOTHILL knows he can come off as intimidating, and he’ll use it to his advantage if you don’t want anyone to talk to you. If someone tries to push it, they’ll have a nice revolver in their face and a protective cyborg ready to shoot at any moment should they push it even more.

⭑ When you open up to him about your past, all he can feel is rage — so much so that his internal fans are whirring to cool him down. He immediately asks you if you remember his name, his appearance, anything. He’ll also comfort you if you feel bad or feel like it’s your fault, which it definitely isn’t.

⭑ Oh sorry, he just got a new bounty you can’t go on. It’s just too dangerous! Don’t worry, you stay and spend all his money like some spoiled teen if you want. He’ll be back soon, you just relax and have a little you time!!

⭑ Would love to take part in your performances. He’s cautious if he’s on stage, however, and will probably use a disguise so nobody notices him since he is a wanted man, after all. He doesn’t want to risk your safety because of his status. He has yet to find out you also have a rising bounty on your head because you’ve been spotted numerous times with him.

⭑ BOOTHILL doesn’t mind your little tea time as long as it doesn’t get in the way of important bounties and dangerous missions. Even if it does, he’ll just tell you to maybe change your schedule? He’ll take you to a nice tea shop to make up for it but please focus on the bounty so it can be over with and you’ll be safe,,,

⭑ Really wants to know how you do that teacup card trick,,,

"I'm not accustomed to expressing myself, but I consider myself a good listener. If you have any troubles, tell me. I'll guard your secrets."

"I don’t doubt ya, kid."

⭑ DAN HENG initially did not expect you to trust anyone quickly when you first joined the express. It takes one to know one, but he can tell rather quickly that you were cautious of everyone despite your poker face. He doesn’t talk too much with you, not that he gets the chance as you give your weird replies to everyone who tries to talk to you.

⭑ He doesn’t realize that you inviting him for tea time in your room is a privilege only he has until March complains about your 'favoritism'. He’ll ask you about it and you’ll confirm it. He won’t ask why but it’s nice to know you trust him more than anyone else.

⭑ You both are social outcasts 2.0. He’ll do most of the talking for you both, but if anyone else from the crew is present, especially March, then they’ll do the talking for you both. He’s also the only one to understand your random response and to this day nobody knows how he does it.

⭑ Just like he needs to tend to his vidyadhara traits, you need to tend to your feline ones. Doesn’t mind if you randomly start shedding but will get a bit bothered if you leave your shedded fur around in the archives. If it gets to much he’ll sit you down and comb through your tail and ears’ fur himself. Also, if you’re comfortable with it, please put in some data about your avatism in the archives.

⭑ DAN HENG doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic during your performances, but he does enjoy them. He’ll clap and give some words of encouragement, but he’s not full on beaming. He just doesn’t know how to properly show his support physically so he’ll show it with praise and giving you trinkets and things he thinks you would or could use.

⭑ Also doesn’t mind helping you with acts and performances, and it’s funny how the both of you have this deadpan poker face while doing the most dramatic over the top jaw dropping trick. You both have a bit of a reputation on some planets that you’ve publicly performed during free time on missions,,

⭑ DAN HENG, like Blade, isn’t the best at comforting people — he can barely comfort himself. He’s a bit emotionally awkward. Still, he’ll try his best to comfort you as you open up to him about your past. He’s upset, but never at you. He’ll pat your back comfortingly or let you hug him.

⭑ If there’s ever a mission where he lays eyes on that man should he still be alive, DAN HENG will act on your behalf. He just needs to keep his skills sharp, that’s all. WORLD CLEANSING DRAGON—

⭑ If you have nightmares, you’re always free to sleep next to him in the archives. He knows how bad nightmares can be as someone who has suffered from them, and if you get embarrassed because you think it’s childish due to your age, he’ll pretend to still be asleep when you enter his room late to snuggle next to him.

⭑ Your clumsiness with technology and machinery genuinely concerns him. He’ll try to keep as little tech in your room as possible and will supervise you whenever you do literally anything with objects of the sort so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone around.

⭑ There’s a lot of things DAN HENG doesn’t realize he’s doing unless someone points it out. How he orders dishes that have some fish in them so he can give them to you, how he always makes sure your tea is cool enough for your sensitive tongue, how he know when you’re upset or not just from your ears.

⭑ Doesn’t mind sparring with you, but he’ll go easy on you. If you want him to mentor you, he’ll take it very seriously. He wants to make sure that you’ll be able to defend yourself should anything happen. Yes, he knows your swordsmanship is impressive for your age, but he also knows that impressive does not equal safety every time. He may be a bit strict, but it’s for your wellbeing so please don’t get upset.

"Go to sleep, I still have some loose ends to tie up from work today... I still have to fix the vacuum cleaner I broke.."

"That’s the third one this month.."

⭑ Was a bit surprised when he entered his lecture to find a feline-featured teenager sitting front row staring at him with a dead look. Was a bit creeped out, but whatever. He was fully expecting you to drop out after the first class.

⭑ Was surprised once again when you showed up for the next lecture. And the one after and after and after. Not to mention you were diligent and observant. You noticed a lot of things and after you two grew close, he’s a bit intimidated by how much you know and notice.

⭑ Some of the other students hate you for it bcs you can easily snitch on them if he ever asked you to. They can never say anything about it because you either ignore them or VERITAS steps in and scolds them.

⭑ You’re like a therapy cat for him but not in a weird way. If you let him, VERITAS will study your case of avatism. With how cat-like you behave, he’ll do some tests like scratching your ears and petting you. Would also see your reaction to cat toys. Now, why do I say therapy cat? Because your purring calms him down always. Also you make him feel like a cat dad.

⭑ He’ll get annoyed if you freely shed all around. Will scold you every time and then expect you to groom yourself properly. If you don’t he’ll get all huffy and frustrated as he does it himself but he really doesn’t mind. He just puts up an act.

⭑ You both are a scary duo. Some people think you’ve gotten your frank and brutal tongue from VERITAS, but you were like that since young. Still, many firmly believe you got it from him. You needn’t worry about unecessary conversation — people are too scared either you or him will rip them a new one for even looking at you. (exaggeration)

⭑ And while many are intimidated and scared of you, getting easily offended at your lack of sugarcoated words, VERITAS appreciates how blunt you can be. Will tell other people to be like you and doesn’t care if they get offended LMFAO

⭑ Probably the one on this list that’s the biggest enjoyer of tea time. You’ll be working on your assignments and be’ll be grading others’ assignments while enjoying sweet snacks and tea. Either that, you both sit in comfortable silence, or you’re dropping all the latest gossip you’ve heard and things you’ve noticed about your classmates that he hasn’t.

⭑ Contrary to the popular belief of his students, VERITAS finds himself enjoying your magic tricks and performances. It takes skill to do what you do, and he has to give credit where it’s due. He won’t really help during your acts, but he’ll give his input and ideas on how to improve like a better angle or quicker actions.

⭑ Also, VERITAS would encourage you to better cultivate your swordsmanship! I’d like to think he has connections, so he’ll find you someone if you want a mentor. If not, then that’s fine too. He’ll remind you everyday to go train for at least an hour. He won’t force you if you don’t feel like it, of course. As long as you’re with him, he’ll be able to protect you anyways.

⭑ Also one of the not-so-good comforters on the list when you open up about your past. So instead, he’ll brutally degrade the man you were sold to until you feel better. He’s trying his best, please understand that. He’ll give you an awkward pet to the head to top it all off.

⭑ I feel like VERITAS wouldn’t do anything to the man physically. Instead, he’ll care for your skills and enhance them until you’re known across the cosmos. Be it as a scholar, a sword fighter, a performer, or something else. Because in his eyes, that’s the best revenge.

⭑ Should that man still be alive, he will see that the one he saw as nothing but a toy to use is now one of the brightest stars in the cosmos, known all throughout while he is rotting away like the scum bastard he is.

⭑ Now, VERITAS is very prideful with his favorite and best student and he supports you, but,,,, but what is this,,,,, how are you so horrible with technology and machinery???? Were you born yesterday??

⭑ Like Dan Heng, he’ll supervise you whenever you’re using anything that has tech and/or machinery in it. Almost got a heart attack when he saw you tinkering with something that piqued your interest on Herta’s space station — VERITAS genuinely thought you’d bring the end of the station by blowing it up.

⭑ Would implement things in divergent universe (domain based off of tea time, occurrence, etc.) that relates to you and he wouldn’t even realize it until Screwllum points it out to which he denies.

"Making tea looks simple on the surface, but it is actually quite complex. The quality of the tea leaves, the temperature of the water, the number of times to add water... Only when every variable is properly controlled can tea of the purest taste be brewed. Would you like a cup?"

"You truly are passionate in the art of tea making, hm? But, yes, I would like a cup."

#🪽 ☆ LIZDIVE #ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S STARS !!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine x reader #Jing Yuan x reader #Blade x reader #Sunday x reader #Boothill x reader #Dan Heng x reader #Dr Ratio x reader #platonic relationships #this took so long to do #ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S WRITING !!

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luvrxbunny · 11 months

Note

Hey lady can I request gynecologist Miguel? Tomorrow I’m going to the gynecologist I’m freaking out 😨🥲

fucckkk

i wrote like half of this and then it disappeared so i apologize if it seems lazy or weird it’s cus i hate tumblr

also this is closer to perv!gyno Miguel 😈

ANYWAY!! LETS GET HORNY

“hello. im miguel, i’ll be your doctor today. i know it can be uncomfortable for some women to have a male doctor but we’re understaffed at the moment.”

your nervousness is a part of your bloodstream at this point and the male presence is not helping. “s-so there’s no one else?” you ask timidly, still staring up at the ceiling as you speak, too embarrassed to see the look on his face. you hear a faint chuckle behind you and your nervous sweats start up, sending an uncomfortable shiver through you. “no, sweetheart, i’m sorry. it’s just me.” you nod silently.

his voice is soothing but more nerve wracking at the same time. it’s calming due to how smooth and deep it is but it’s also adding a new worry to your arsenal. he walks around your chair and comes into view. you can’t see his face due the light in your face but you can see how big he is. his broad shoulders almost take up your entire view as he looms over you. you pretend not to feel the way your pushy flutters at his sheer size.

however you’re unable to ignore the way your thighs tense once you can see his features. he has dark curls framing his face, high cheekbones, a defined jaw, dark crimson eyes, and pinkish lips. his eyebrows twitch with a subtle amused smile that makes you feel like he can tell but stays silent.

he turns to his desk, grabs his clipboard, a chair and pulls himself up to the side of your little bed/seat. “so this is just an annual checkup, yes?” you take a deep breath and nod silently before realizing he’s not looking at you. “mhm. yes, yes.” he nods while scribbling something down. he flips one page and his face twitches in confusion. “and—“ he checks another page before flipping back. “and this is your first checkup..?”

his eyes are wide with shock when he looks up at you and you have to avert your gaze to breathe. “uhm… yeah.” his eyes wide even further like he didn’t believe what he was seeing on the papers. “reall—? i mean i- okay.” he shakes his head and takes a deep breath before meeting your eyes again. “i hope you aren’t too nervous” you shrug silently as your stomach churns. he smiles softly and starts the appointment

meow meow meow mini time skip!!

he slides his gloves on and you jump at the snap of the latex. “legs on the stirrups please.” he phrases it like a question but it has the force of a command. you gasp quietly at the cold air on your pussy. he walks around and takes a seat at the edge of the chair, right between your legs. you hear him take a deep breath and fear shoots through you, waiting to be scolded or chastised for something. but he stays silent and just gets to work.

his fingers spread above your pussy, pressing down gently and his thumb covers your clit, immediately starting it’s circling movements. you tense and sit up, about to say something but his face is straight and focused, giving you no signs of foul play.

is this normal? it must be.

you sit back down and he gives a low hum of approval. you try not to squirm or moan as he toys with you. your pussy is suddenly flooding with your slick. you were worried about being too dry in the midst of your nerves and anxiety but now you’re definitely getting too wet.

in truth, miguel doesn’t know what’s come over him. he’s just obsessed with how pretty your pussy is. your soft, plump lips are basically calling to him, your pink nub, pulsing in his face. you’re teasing him. and now— the way your floodgates have opened for him? you’re leaking. so how is it his fault that he has to finger you now?

his gloved hand is prodding at your entrance and pushing in within the minute. you shoot up again but your eyes meet his this time. “is this okay?” he asks with a voice you swear should be in a bedroom setting. you’re breathless, chest is heaving as you stare at him. “w-what?” you ask, baffled by his question. his head tilts and his fingers crook up to press into your g-spot. you yelp and your knees cave in, almost touching as your orgasm builds in your stomach. “are you feeling any… discomfort?”

your eyes almost cross at his teasing tone but instead you shut them and shake your head rigorously. “m-mm. no discomfort.” you let out a whiny breath at the end of your sentence and hold back a beg as you reach the edge.

miguel can see your legs begin to shake, trembling at his sides before tensing and freezing. your eyes are shut tight as you cum on his fingers, squeezing around them rhythmically as your fingers dig into the leather of the seats, leaving little tears from your finger nails. he watches the way your hole clenches around his fingers and pushes out a new load of your essence, making his fingers glisten along with the trail a droplet is leaving on your skin, leading down to your ass and his cover sheet.

he’ll probably have to cut that part out and take it home with him

FUCK I HOPE I DIDN’T BURN MYSELF OUT AGAIN

IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS AT 12:38AM 😭

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

Text

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #no outbreak!joel miller

1K notes · View notes

aluciahaz · 6 months

Note

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

#hazbin hotel #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel dom reader #sub hazbin hotel #bottom vox #sub vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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theshitpostcalligrapher · 3 months

Text

OPENASKBOX TIME HERE ARE THE GROUND RULES

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and a roommate for retrieving things and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites

4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the proper inbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, but I will probably NOT see my tumblr dms until the event is OVER. If you need to flag me down RIGHT AWAY you're GOING to have to go over to twitch chat ask there.

the BEST CHANCE of getting it written live today is to send in your requests with 3 different asks within the first hour or so of the stream going live. after the first hour, it's not gonna matter if it's in one or three asks cuz I'll be scheduling them out in advance and everything that follows the rules above will get written eventually

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ miathecalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 2 o’clock EST.

twitch_live

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

If you would like to receive the card you buy/request for, physically in the mail, here is the shop link:

feel free to dm me first to discuss discounting if you'd like multiple of your cards in a bundle

if you subscribe to my channel on a regular basis, I'll keep your cards back and send them out periodically regardless

there'll be 2 donation goals - one as a forty dollar threshold for ordering food, and the other one will be set at $160 since that's ABOUT the equivalent of living wage for the amount of time I'll be streaming.

#calligraphy #twitch #openaskbox June 2024

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gatorbites-imagines · 8 months

Note

Hiya I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if we can get a Tim Drake x male reader

The reader is a bigger older guy, like not too older than Tim but reader does have a streak of gray hair due to the stress of taking care of Bruce's dumbass.

Reader is kinda sly and fox like.

Idk why but I can see Tim liking someone older than him

Tim Drake x older male reader

Headcanons

I feel like tumblr has been deleting requests from my inbox, I swear some go missing. This one didn’t though, so here you go.

It’s been a while huh? Who’d have thought getting ready to graduate would be so stressful.

Reader is about Dicks age, so around 26.

You didn’t meet through hero work or anything like that. You were actually the CEO of a larger company called Aces co. It had been in your family for many years, and your father and grandfather had worked with the Waynes.

So, when you took over at 18, you started working with Bruce Wayne, even though you thought him nothing much more than a himbo at the time. Later, when Tim took over, you’d work side by side with the younger man.

One way or another, you learn Bruces secret identity, and soon you end up mixed up in the vibrant and extremely stressful world that is heroes and vigilantes, you’ve lost count how many times you have had to cover for any of the batclan.

You almost burst into tears when you see the first grey hairs appear at your temples. Your father had gone grey much later in life, and here you were, 24 and greying, all because of the bats. Of course, it wasn’t all the bats, running a billion-dollar company was stressful too, but they sure didn’t help.

The media called you the fox prince, because of the sharp look in your eyes and how sly and underhanded you could be, insulting someone straight to their face and they would first realize days later. Or somehow tricking someone into revealing all their secrets to you.

None of the bats can ever seem to reach your level of mingling and information gathering, even Bruce who has been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.

You never become a hero, or a vigilante for that matter, but you do get involved every now and then if needed. You didn’t take over Aces co. for no reason at 18, you have always been a genius, but a sly and cruel one in the eyes of many.

Unlike Bruce, you don’t feel a soul deep duty to save the world and save as many people as possible. You simply do what you can, without putting yourself in too much danger. Which mainly resolves to you gathering too much information, and enough blackmail to have the entire congress of America and the EU buckling under for your whims.

You are an extremely cold and calculated businessman as well, to the point where underhanded companies like Lexcorps won’t work with you because they know you’ll rip them apart and leave them with nothing.

It was your cruel but very effective business methods that drew Tim to you, especially when it turned out you were a lot more friendly behind closed doors. He did get to hear you complain about him and his family a lot, and it gave him a good laugh to see Bruce open a bill for your hair treatments to get rid of your greys.

The alliance between Wayne enterprises and Aces Co. only grows stronger between you two, and you end up closer to Tim than you’ve been any other bat, even Dick, despite the fact that you two are the same age and have been around each other the longest.

It ends with you going out of your way to score the best deals for (Tim) Wayne Enterprises, and Tim finds ways to benefit (you) Aces Co. Its like flirting and foreplay at the same time between very powerful rich businessmen.

For some reason I can imagine most of the batfam is shocked when Tim and you started dating, whilst some of them aren’t surprised at all. Bruce is uncomfortable in the beginning that one of his former business partners is dating his son, until someone (most likely Jason) points out that you aren’t even 30 yet and took over your company the moment you turned 18.

Your relationship is kept a secret for the media, mainly to keep the drama and paparazzi away. You aren’t a very publicly affectionate person, and Tim doesn’t really like mingling with the media if he doesn’t have too, so it’s a win-win.

The two of you don’t go out of your way to be super secretive though, you just aren’t all lovey dovey all over each other. Some people may notice you getting a lot crueler and colder to those trying to cross Wayne Enterprises, and Tim striking down hard on anyone who tries Aces Co.

It’s assumed it’s just cuz you two are both young CEOs who are trying to strengthen the relationship between your companies. All your mutual friends and families knows its cuz you are both protective and a little possessive.

You are most likely the one in the relationship with the most experience since Tim has spent most of his time being a vigilante, so you’ll have to guide him in the beginning. He’s a great and enthusiastic learner though, so Tim probably ends up doing all kinds of research.

He lovingly calls you his old man, or jokingly calls you a cradle-snatcher, since you look older than you actually are cuz of your greys. It probably causes some drama online when your relationship finally gets out, until people are like “He’s literally only 26, he’s just greying early”.

Tim will comfort you when you end up with your face in your hands because of those comments, weeping for your once beautiful and not grey streaked hair. He loves it though, and always tells you.

You tell Tim he likes it cuz of his daddy issues, and he ends up being all “maybe so”. Doesn’t stop him from loving it though, or loving to see that foxlike glint appear in your eyes when you are about to strike on a deal.

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ponderingmoonlight · 11 months

Text

Gojo teasing the heck out of you after realizing you get flustered by his eyes

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: After working with smooth operator Gojo Satoru for years, he slowly but surely began to realize what your true weakness is: his bright blue orbs. And he wouldn't be Satoru Gojo if he wouldn't use that against you...

Warnings: none really, language maybe. Shout out to the anon who requested this! I know I already posted it yesterday, but my Tumblr completely broke down at some point and I had to write support multiple times so this got lost in translation somehow...Hope you still enjoy <3

Tag List: @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @dazaisdick @sanicsmut @arehzhera @mynahx3 (if you wanna get added to my permanent tag list leave a comment to let me know)

Urgh, why does this man have to look so shamelessly good? Your eyes dart towards him when his skilled fingers are about to take his blindfold off. You truly hate Satoru Gojo and the way he carries himself with so much self-consciousness. Yes, Satoru Gojo is one of those men who know exactly how good they look and how to use this power over weak people.

Weak people like yourself.

You aren’t even able to realize how blatantly you stare at him before his eyes meet yours, cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Enjoying the view, (y/n)?”

Oh, how much he loves the blush that immediately turns your cheeks red, whole face screwed up in pure embarrassment. You’re like an open book, so easy to read that he just can’t help himself. Over the last months of working together with you as teachers at Jujutsu High, he slowly but surely began to realize the power he has over you. How your gaze always wanders towards him, eyeing him up and down. How you seem to automatically walk his direction without even noticing. Yes, it is clear to everyone else that you are attracted to him.

And you are miserable at hiding it.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, you huff, shielding your eyes from his intense orbs.

Fuck, he caught you staring again. You swore to yourself to stop this madness. Yes, you are a grown woman, a truly skilled teacher at Jujutsu High. Seeing a good-looking man shouldn’t leave you all flustered. What about Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto? Why are you able to act professional around all these ridiculous gorgeous men?

Because they don’t have those eyes.

Oh, those striking blue orbs that seem to hold the entire oceans of earth, the eyes that shine like diamonds in sunlight. As soon as you catch a glimpse of him without his blindfold or even better sunglasses you are completely doomed.

And he knows. Satoru Gojo definitely knows. And that’s exactly why he uses every little bit against you whenever possible.

“You’re staring again”, he purrs.

You shake your head vehemently. Stop this madness, you are too old to act like that! With a swift motion you turn on your heels, walking away from him as fast as possible while sweat runs down your forehead. Why the hell did he have to catch you again? How embarrassing, why do you have to act like a horny teenager? Satoru Gojo is nothing more than a beautiful man with way too much charm. What is so special about him?

“You’re walking the wrong way. Your students are waiting over there.”

You stop in your tracks. Please, let the ground break open and swallow you whole.

“Screw you”, you hiss under your breath.

-at training-

“You’re doing quite well today, (y/n). I’m impressed.”

You swing around elegantly, avoiding his attacks under any condition. You narrow your eyes over his dumb comment, gazing at him just long enough to witness how he’s taking his blindfold off.

Oh.

What a gorgeous man. That bright blue orbs that elevate the delicate features of his face so well, how they seem to match the sky above so perfectly. Satoru’s eyes surely have something no men else has. Is it charm, is it the infinite power he holds in those eyes? You can’t put a finger on it.

In fact, you aren’t even able to react when he sweeps you off your feel, back clashing against the hard floor underneath.

Ouch. You groan in annoyance, gazing up at him in distress. This…this was on purpose. That fucking asshole.

“You have some nerve”, you hiss through gritted teeth, face going completely red in the split of a second.

You look so lovely to his feet, whole face screwed up in anger while a wave of embarrassment rolls over you without mercy. Yes, he caught you staring again. Why does it have to be so damn amusing to mess with you? But there’s something else…

Sure, he messes with Utahime and his students all the time just for the fun of it. Something about you is different, though. Yes, it’s not exclusively about laughing his ass off. He likes the way you blush under his gaze, how you react when he looks at you with his bare face. The way you aren’t able to control your emotions at all pulls on his heart strings in a way it shouldn’t.

“Need a hand?” he questions, stretching out his hand in front of you.

“Leave me alone”, you bark at him, smacking his arm away while standing up.

When will this madness finally end? Why can’t you just pull yourself together? You know Satoru Gojo for many years by now, you fought on his side so many times that you lost count. Why? Why on earth are you still not able to contain yourself? Why do you have to get all flustered when this jerk bats his eyelashes at you?

“It’s quite cute to be honest.”

“What?”, you mumble, turning away from his intense stare.

“The way I make your knees go weak just by taking my sunglasses or blindfold off.”

You swirl around, rage running through your veins. Did he really say that out loud? God, please let lighting hit and kill you right on the spot. Why…why did he have to say it like that? Your face feels hot like a thousand fires, it seems like you forgot how to talk.

“What, cat got your tongue (y/n)?”

He sneaks up on you, step by step nearer. Oh god, you feel like fainting. What the hell is happening here? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, eyes completely locked with his intense gaze.

“T-that’s…not true”, you stutter.

Within all the years you knew Satoru Gojo, it was never more than an innocent crush, never more than him teasing the heck out of you. But now he lingers above you, heat of his body so near that it feels like you’re burning alive. No, you never allowed your mind to wander this far, to imagine him this close. But now…

“Are you sure about that? Your body tells me differently. For example, the way your cheeks burn up…”

His fingertips brush against your cheek, gently caressing it.

“Or how your whole body trembles…”

He lets his other hand glide over your shivering arm.

“Oh, and the way your breath got stuck in your throat. What’s wrong, (y/n)? Did you forget how to breathe?”

His face draws closer, only inches away until…

You let out your shaky breath. He suddenly stops, only inches away from the heat of your lips.

“See, I told you I make you weak”, he purrs.

Oh god, lord have mercy. What are you supposed to do now? It seems like your mind went completely numbed, glossy eyes staring at him wide open. He is so close that you can smell him, so close that you can literally feel him. This isn’t about his eyes anymore, it’s about him. Satoru Gojo and the goddamn power he has over you, how you fold just by one glance of him.

“Well, I need to get going now. See ya, (y/n)!”

As fast as this sweet moment approached he is gone in the wind, already on his way back to Jujutsu High. You stay behind, glancing at his back completely bamboozled.

That asshole. He only played with you.

“I fucking hate you Satoru!”, you shout, running after him with your fist flying through the air.

“Nice try”, he comments, catching your hand mid-air.

“But I meant what I said, you really are cute. It’s just that I have a meeting in…oh, 30 minutes ago. Bye (y/n).”

With one last glimpse into his ocean blue eyes he’s gone. That jerk who sweeps you off your feet with his orbs only, the man that makes you feel like a child again.

You sign to yourself. Wow, you really are weak.

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fangweaver2099 · 2 months

Text

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 2

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

TAG: @slut4oscarissac23

PART 1 - PART 3

It’s been a week since you met Web. You’ve gotten into the routine he provided after you confirmed he expected you to start instantly. Thankfully, your summer job is walkable and makes the whole hour of exercise he’d demanded - so it isn’t much of a change in routine.

He isn’t pleased that your idea of meals is usually whatever frozen nuggets you have in the fridge or whatever you and your roommates decide to swing by to, but there’s only so much you can do on a college budget, and he begrudgingly accepts that fact after some discussion.

You wake with a groan, still entangled in your gray duvet. You had opted for a daybed for your tiny room and it means you often sleep with your nose touching the wall and your limbs curled close to you, fetal position.

For a long moment, you consider heading back to bed. Your hands search down your body and across your bed for the phone. You pull the damn thing out from under your hip and flip it over in your hand.

Web asks you to download something called ‘Telegram’ - it doesn’t log pictures or anything for that matter, according to him. You find you even have a few contacts saved that used it. You discover your cousin is a furry, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

Web’s icon is what you’d expect, really - a red web. His number is fake - surprising to exactly nobody. He was clearly more tech savvy than you. When you had visualized an ideal dominant - Web checked too many boxes. At first you considered ghosting him, anxiety ate you up.

But you also crave his attention - maybe you’re more lonely than you thought. You find yourself waiting for his messages and bouncing at the attention. You’ve developed a habit of staying up too late waiting to see if he’ll pop back online again.

So you click open your phone, ignoring Facebook, Instagram, whatever, and click open the small blue icon to Telegram.

9:13 AM - WebRigger2099 - “Good Morning.”

“ I slept in… Sorry. Just saw this. Morning. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:15 PM

1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Slept in until 1pm? Up late?”

“ Roommates were loud, so I watched netflix. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM

1:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Maybe when summer is over you’ll be able to get proper sleep at my place.”

“ That sounds nice. We’ll have to see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:19 PM

1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can set up a dog bed at the foot of mine. I’d make sure you were comfortable, but you’d have to wake me to go to the bathroom. The leash would keep you bound to bed.”

“ And here I thought we’d snuggle. :p ” - Fawnteeth - 1:20 PM

1:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but you have to earn the bed for sleeping at night. Incentives keep you from growing complacent.”

“ You really do know what you’re doing. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

“ Any free time today? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I work from home during the summer and practically make my own hours. It’s a quiet day.”

“ Can I ask what you do? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:21 PM

1:21 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes, but I won’t answer.”

“ Mysterious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If you guess correct you might earn a treat, pup.”

“ How many tries do I get? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “We’ll say three.”

“ Banker? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:22 PM

1:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. Every time you get it incorrect, you’ll answer a question of mine, how’s that sound?”

“ That's not very fair. :c ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said it would be.”

“ Fine. Ask away. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When was the last time you touched yourself, Fawn?”

“ Oh. These kind of questions. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Is that a complaint I hear?”

“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Well?”

“ The night after we spoke the first time. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:23 PM

1:23 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Excited you, did I?”

“ Yes, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. You remembered the rule. No ‘maybe’s, only ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“ I’m trying my best. It’s not like it’s fun being a brat at the start. I gotta learn your buttons. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You must be a glutton for punishment. Did you see the cane marks I left on some of the girls in my photo album?”

“ I did. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Did it excite you, Fawn?”

You huff, rolling onto your other side on the bed.

“ ...Yes. When do I get to guess again? >:c ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I never said you couldn’t. You’re just answering free questions.”

“ Mean. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Exceptionally. You have to earn ‘nice’.”

“ I don’t know why I find you so charming. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

“ Librarian? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:24 PM

1:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Wrong. And many submissives find comfort in pain and punishment.”

“ you seem like the librarian type. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Because you think I’d spank you with a ruler if you made too much noise?”

“ I don’t think a ruler would hurt very much. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You haven’t had one break on your skin then. I’ve left bruises with them before.”

“ I sure haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ll have to bring one someday, then. And a crop. Anything else you’d like me to mark you with?”

“ Let me think about it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

“ Personal trainer? You have the body for it. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:25 PM

1:25 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Isn’t that what I’m doing to you? It doesn’t pay very well, but I don’t have any complaints about the benefits so far.”

“ I mean. I guess? You haven’t asked me to work out, plus I hear the right clients means you could make bank. So you are a personal trainer? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I did tell you to exercise an hour a day. Did you forget?”

“ Not completely. I walk. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No, I’m not a personal trainer. Ready for my last two questions?”

“ Yes. :c I thought I was right… ” - Fawnteeth - 1:26 PM

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Afraid not.”

1:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “When you masturbated the night we first spoke, what did you imagine?”

“ A bit of what you could look like. Putting myself into one of your photos. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Do you like the idea of me showing you off for everyone to see? Your face covered of course, like the rest.”

“ I sure don’t mind the idea. Do most girls say no? I see you haven’t taken any photos in like 7 years. ” - Fawnteeth - 11:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’ve been busy. Started again recently.”

“ Ohhh. I see. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you like to practice?”

“ Practice? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Posing for my photos.”

“ Can I see you too? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fair is fair.”

“ Your profile pic leaves most to the imagination. Well. Below the belt, I guess. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “That’s what you want to see, is it? You’ll need to earn it.”

“ Call me curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:27 PM

1:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll need to follow my instructions for posing, Fawn. Listening?”

“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM

1:28 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ll take a picture of every step to prove you’re following along. Understood?”

“ Okay. Let me lock my door. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:28 PM

You need a gameplan. Checking for your roommates, you pop your head out of your door, listening hard. You can hear your roommate Kore’s music - some pop medley that she’s sewing to. Good.

You don’t hear anyone else, so everybody else must be out. You… try not to think about what Taylor or Aurora could be up to.

Sticking your head back in, you close the door. moving to click the lock shut. You check the door, only for it to open with the slightest tug. Glancing at the lock, you frown, flicking it on and off to see no little ‘lock’ mechanism come out.

Shit… You fucking hate your landlord.

You glance around your room - you are not doing this with your door unlocked. You grew up with half a dozen siblings and strict parents - you know how to improvise. Grabbing the circular chair piled with clothes, you push it to the door and force the metal under your door knob. Hands on your hips, you nod at the handiwork.

Good enough.

Snatching up your phone, you frown, kicking away most of your discarded clothes and random papers.You really need to clean your room, but you decide you’d do it later.

Right now, you have other priorities.

Said priority seems to know just when you sit down, the telegram notification lighting up your screen as if you’ve summoned him by pure thought alone. Think of the devil…

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Having trouble?”

“ No. All good now. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Get a marker.”

You frown, then glance at your backpack. You trot over and search through it, tossing a few pens and your pencil case in frustration.

In the end you find a single purple sharpie.

You click open your phone.

“ Does the color matter? ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No. It just needs to be visible on your skin.”

“ Kay. Got it then. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:46 PM

1:46 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take your clothes off. Bra and panties can stay on.”

You glance up at your phone and stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair is a bit of a mess - that’s fine.

You glance at your sleep shirt, it’s old and the hem is frayed on the sleeves, the little bunny screen printed onto it is mostly faded. You knew you weren’t wearing a bra, so you glanced around your room till you spotted one laying limply on the floor. Tossing off your top and discarding it wherever it landed.

Pulling the bra on, you take a deep breath, glancing at yourself again in the mirror. You feel yourself hesitating. You’ve taken nudes before, what about this makes it different?

Web makes it different. Him telling you to take these for him makes it different. You slip off your shorts and realize you’re wet. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Still, your phone is in your hand again, you flick it open and type away.

“Kay.” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM

1:50 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Where is my proof, Fawn? I told you to take pictures. Are you trying to get punished?”

You bite your lip.

“ No. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:50 PM

You need your face mask - the one you wore in all your photos is easy to find. You wrap the thing around your nose and mouth. You know you’re going to crop out your face anyway, but it makes you feel better.

Like you’re pretending to be someone else. You supposed you aren’t you anymore - you’re Fawn. Fawn doesn’t struggle with nudes. Fawn takes great nudes.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. You end up trying a few poses, trying to not put emphasis on your long legs or stomach rolls. You settle on your knees - back slightly arched, one hand splayed on your thigh. Not too lewd.

You snap the photo, shifting your body a bit as you take another. The routine continues a few more times before you pause to look at the photos.

You decide the second one is the best. You move to crop as much of the background out as you can, including your face. Wisps of your hair remain around your neck but that’s fine. Whatever. Good enough.

You hesitate for a moment, finger lingering on the send button.

What if he doesn’t like it? What if he decides he doesn’t like you? You cringe at the thought. You send the photo and close your phone instantly.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

You hear it ping and slowly click the screen back on.

1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good girl. Has anyone told you you’re beautiful today, Fawn?”

You blush.

“ Now someone has. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:52 PM

1:52 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Write it on yourself. We wouldn’t want you to forget if I’m busy and can’t tell you tomorrow morning.”

“ Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

You take a deep breath, grabbing the purple sharpie from beside your knee. Biting down on the cap, you frown, glancing over the expanse of skin thoughtfully.

How the hell do you write backwards…. You’ll flip the image before you send it.

It’s embarrassing how long you pause, you stare at the pen and your skin. You come to the sad realization this is the first time a man has called you beautiful like… ever.

You’re smart enough to realize he’s trying to build you up. God, he knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

You settle with scribbling the world carefully onto your right thigh. You don’t use the mirror for the photo this time, taking it directly.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:55 PM

1:55 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Again.”

You consider asking him where. After considering for a moment, you scribble ‘beautiful’ on your other thigh. It’s not huge and written towards your knee, but it’s readable.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:56 PM

1:56 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Keep going.”

You wonder where - not your thighs again you decide. After some effort you manage to scribble it carefully above your panty waistband, crawling from your hip and across your stomach.

This time you have to use the mirror. You settle back into that kneeling pose and take a few shots.

You pick the favorite, flipping it so the text can actually be read. You crop it again, cutting off your shoulders and part of your arm.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM

1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good. That’s enough.”

“ Here I expected something lewd. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:57 PM

1:57 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now pull your panties to the side and show me your pussy.”

Your cunt throbs, making your thighs snap together. He isn’t even talking, it it’s words on a fucking screen . It’s unfair how effortlessly arousing Web is.

You could say no. You don’t think he’d be upset if you said no. He had spoken a dozen times over about consent in the past week, reaffirming to you that if you thought it was too much that you were welcome to say so. All it took was you typing yellow or red.

You don’t.

“ Mkay. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM

You end up sitting back on your ass, legs apart. You see the dark mark on your panties in between your legs. You almost shutter pulling the cloth aside. You feel your slickness on your fingers and wipe it away with your inner thigh.

You see yourself through your phone, legs spread and the hints of the words written on your thighs make you freeze.

You settle with closing your eyes to take the picture. You don’t crop it this time - but your face is still missing from the shot regardless. Just a hint of the black cloth over your chin. Your face is warm both from your cheeks and your breath now.

You click send and wait patiently for his reply.

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 1:58 PM

It comes instantly.

1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Now shove the marker inside.”

Your eyes widen.

1:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Take a picture so I can see all the writing and the marker inside you.”

You grab the top of the marker and cap it, flipping it in your fingers.

“ I’ll try. ” - Fawnteeth - 1:59 PM

The marker is cold. You cringe as you press it against your overheated pussy, flinching as you run it along your opening. After a deep breath you slip it into your opening. You couldn’t exactly feel it - it was more like your fingers.

You’ve never bought a toy, knowing your roommates would rip the package open to see what you ordered, nosy as they are, and it’s not like you could order it to your childhood home. There are some things even you know better than to do.

Slowly, you kneel again, your hips up in the air as you see the small white and purple thing in between your thighs.

The last time you took a nude was before college. You chickened out of sending it to your boyfriend at the time. Now you’re just thankful you never got to second base with him.

You take the picture, eyes closed again. Like that somehow made what you were doing more modest and less slutty.

Is it slutty? It’s not like you’re sending it to anyone but Web. But also… who is Web?

[photo] - Fawnteeth - 2:02 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Good girl. I’m posting this as an album on my page for everyone to see. I’ll blur the background for your privacy, and you already have your mask on.”

“ I thought this was supposed to be practice? :’c ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

You slip the marker from yourself and put your panties back on correctly. You cringe at the cold wetness.

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I find it best to practice by doing.”

“ I guess that makes sense. It’s the first time I’ve sent that to anyone on here. Can you keep the one with my crotch in it private? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You did good. Lighting and the perfect background are nice, but it's not realistic. Not everyone has perfectly angled windows and lamps to make shots. This is raw. Vulnerable. And yes, I can keep those two private.”

“ Thanks. My room is kinda a mess… You’re nice, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Just respectful, and not that much. You have low bars, Fawn. Careful someone doesn’t take advantage of them.”

“ You haven’t. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:03 PM

2:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You just shoved a marker up your cunt for me without even questioning it.”

“ I think you’d be fine if I had said no. When do I get to see it? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:04 PM

2:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I suppose you earned it.”

His hands are huge, his chest is broad and clearly the same guy in the photo… and…

Your eyes widen at his dick. The sweatpants bulge in his profile pic is a fucking beast. You had asked him how long it was before, shyly, and he said eight inches. Sheepishly, you told yourself you’d fetch a ruler to see what that would be like in person.

You’d been too nervous to follow through.

He’s wide, too, his log-like member swollen with arousal. The dark brown skin fades to a milder tan as your eyes finally leave his bulge, trailing up the muscular torso. You swear you see a bead of sweat running down his abs, but you realize that it's yours .

You’re sweating, forehead moist, wiping away the rest with a glide of the back of your hand.

Like all the pictures he had of himself in his gallery, the picture cuts off at the beginning of his neck. This one also cuts off near the knees at the bottom.

“ Jesus christ. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

“ Did I do that?. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

2:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you be proud of yourself if you did?”

“ I’d feel special. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:07 PM

2:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re special, Fawn. Do you know what I would do if you were in front of me right now?”

You sink on your thighs as his words. ‘You’re special’ makes you almost tear up. You’re absolutely charmed by him.

Slowly, you lay on the floor, hovering your phone above your face. It’s hard not to grin, chewing your lip red as you think over your reply.

“ No, can you tell me? ” - Fawnteeth - 2:08 PM

You feel accomplished at that. You’re being so smooth and cool.

You wait patiently, crossing your legs and bouncing one of them in the air.

He doesn’t reply. You feel sweat gathering at the back of your neck. You move from lounging casually to sat cross legged before your mirror. You debate sending another message.

You do not send another message - that would make you look desperate, and you are definitely not desperate. That has to be a massive turnoff anyways - after all, he knows what he’s doing, he’s incredibly attractive and hung. He’s probably so sure of himself. Pestering him would just annoy him.

It isn’t even five minutes you wait before you decide to do anything but stare at your phone. You change into loose pajama pants and toss your shamefully wet panties into the laundry hamper.

You’re halfway through cleaning your room when you hear it.

Your phone pings and, embarrassingly, you drop the bra you were holding to rush for your bed. Feeling like a kid on christmas, your fingers shake as you punch in your passcode and pull up the notification.

2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m sorry. I have to go for a few hours.”

Your stomach sinks. You think you might be sick.

“ Oh. Okay. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM

2:15 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I can message you again tonight after 8.”

“ I’ll hold you to that. ” - Fawnteeth - 2:15 PM

Okay. It isn’t your fault, right? Something’s very clearly up with his life.

Frowning, you force yourself take a deep breath to calm yourself.

You investigate his picture, his bedroom is neat and simple. It’s clearly not a hotel room - it’s got some personal cozy touches and you can see some brick outside the window behind his shoulder. The sheets are messy and the blankets are mismatched. He’s probably just some normal guy, maybe he works in an office and just likes his body.

And… bondage.

Y’know - average weird secret pervert things. Hopefully he isn’t married . You didn’t see a ring on either of his hands or even an indent from one he might have taken off for the photos.

Your eyes eventually drift to the marker discarded on your floor, the end still slick. If he was some kind of weird pervert, what does that just make you?

You look down at your stomach and the small ‘beautiful’ written carefully on it. You need to take a shower and get this off.

You sneak through the house with a change of clothes and your nice shampoo you don’t share with anyone. Your house has one bathroom with a half decent shower, technically being a 2 ½ bath house.

You don’t like the other bathroom that Kore and Babette mostly use. It only has a bathtub - the shower head doesn’t work.

You hop in the shower and are horrified at your discovery. It’s not coming off. The writing doesn’t come off with the dove soap or Aurora’s washing puff. Not even scratching it with your nails does anything but vaguely fade it.

Great.

You try your best to not freak out. You’ll dress like it’s winter until you can wash it off your skin. You should have asked Web if you should use a sharpie.

You wash your hair and dry off the best you can. Thankfully, your loose shorts and loose t-shirt hide the marks as long as you don't let the shorts ride up your thighs too much.

You return to your room and move your chair back into its place. You don’t have work today and you can hear the movement that told you one of your roomies had just gotten home.

Your stomach growls.

You’re hungry - three meals, you remind yourself, Web always somewhere close to the front of your mind. Technically this would your first meal, you did just wake up and… fuck. Anxiously, you tug down your pajama shorts. Lesson learned, that shit doesn’t come off in the shower. You make a note to ask Web for a marker to get that does wash off.

You find yourself questioning why some random faceless man on the internet is the motivation you have to take care of yourself. Shaking away the thought, you explore the tiny freezer stuffed with mostly frozen chicken nuggets. You frown, debating ordering takeout again. You settle on boiling noodles and smothering them in pesto and salt.

You head out to the living room - the room is eternally cluttered like the rest of your college house. The ceiling light doesn’t work, so you and your roomies had hung fairy lights everywhere. The drapes are pulled back to let light in - the lesbian flag with markiplier’s face on it in full display to the whole neighborhood. Four couches meant you had plenty of space to sit, falling in the far corner from the only other person in the room - Aurora.

The bubbly blonde is chomping away at her food, phone propped up on the stained coffee table as some sort of video plays. You eat while listening to something about a person named ‘illuminaughty’.

Aurora looked up from her bowl of fruit loops from the couch, she smiled through a mouthful, cheeks as stuffed as a chipmunk. "Mornin'!" she grinned, never one for table manners.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, "You slept in late."

Her eyes looked you up and down, a perfectly tweezed eyebrow raising to look at your leg. "Were you drawing on yourself?"

You looked down, a purple "L" in sharpie just barely poking out of your shorts. You feel a chill go down your spine. You are fucking mortified.

"Uh...yeah," you say quickly, your brain scrambling for a moment to make up some lie. You couldn't just confess that you'd written on yourself and shoved the marker up your pussy just because a man you didn't even know the name of told you too. "Got bored last night, y'know."

Aurora shrugs, thankfully dropping the subject as she turns her attention back to her bowl of sugar cereal.

You promptly get, desperately pretending that she didn’t notice your sexy leg writing, and power walk to your bedroom. It takes effort to not slam the door.

You stay in your room for the rest of the day because you sure as fuck aren’t hanging around your roomies now. Aurora would question you again - it’s Aurora, and you can’t exactly explain away wearing long pants in June.

So you break out your laptop and watch Delicious in Dungeon. You always have a habit of marathoning random shows on Netflix and it passes the time better than staring at the wall, waiting for Web to message you.

You got popcorn as a snack, maybe you’d eat weird monster food too. Senshi does make it look delicious. You chuckle, realizing the name matches.

Hours passed and the sun is barely setting before you consider taking a nap.

8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello Fawn.”

You sit up and snatch your phone up at the ping.

“ Hey. Everything good? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:00 PM

8:00 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It’s fine, just a sudden schedule change. Things moved up quicker than I expected, but I should be done for the night.”

“ Okay. Well… You never answered my question, Web. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM

“ Also. How do I get sharpie off my skin. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:01 PM

8:01 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Oh Fawn…”

“ I thought I could scrub it off, if I’m honest. I figured… you.. might… know… ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM

8:02 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I do, but maybe I should let you keep it on until it fades normally. A lesson to be more careful. Better this than something more serious.”

“ I should have figured as much. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:02 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m just glad you didn’t shove it deeper. You can’t put things inside without a flare, it’ll get stuck. I didn’t realize I needed to explain things like that to you, but I know better now.”

“ I know that. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “But not that permanent markers are hard to remove.”

“ Yes. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Fawn you are delightfully foolish.”

“ I’m glad you enjoy my suffering. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I enjoy your happiness too.”

“ You’re good with words. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:03 PM

8:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Better with my hands, but you’ll learn that later.”

“ I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

“ Well. Now that I’ve made myself a fool, I hope I haven’t turned you off. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hardly. I believe we left off before at ‘what I would do to you if I was there’.”

“ Thank you for mentioning it so.. I didn’t have to bring it up again. I’m still quite curious. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You remember the picture I sent you?”

“ I do. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I want you to order something. I’ll pay, naturally, but I figure it would be more comfortable if I didn’t know your address so quickly.”

“ Yeah. I think that would take some time. A toy? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:04 PM

8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I have a list. Run away with the money and you won’t hear my answer.”

“ I won’t. But are you sure you want to invest anything in me yet? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM

8:05 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’ve invested at least 3 days in me with that marker.”

“ True enough. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:05 PM

8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I’m comfortable financially. This isn’t the hit it might be for a girl your age. You’ve earned some nice things.”

“ Oh. I see. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM

8:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “No using them without my permission, understood?”

“ Understood, sir. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:06 PM

He sends you the link to an adult website. Your cheeks flush as your screen is filled with all sorts of sex toys and other lewd imagery. Your eyes flicker to your door for a moment, anxiety simmering low in your belly as the thought of someone walking into your room and seeing what you were looking at flashes through your mind. You bite your lip, feeling like a nervous teenager under your father’s roof once again.

You notice that the cart has been pre filled with a number of items: A 6 inch silicone dildo; a Lovense egg vibrator; nipple clamps; a rabbit vibrator; a bottle of water-based lube; and a set of black lingerie that matches your face mask.

Your eyes linger on the cart total. That’s more than your paycheck .

“ You sure? ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM

8:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have sent you the link. There is a gift card code: HGJ-8734-KHW. It’ll cover the expenses and leave a little extra for you to browse and select one or two items that catch your interest.”

“ Okay. Thank you. ” - Fawnteeth - 8:09 PM

8:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re welcome, Fawn. I take care of my pets.”

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara smut

168 notes · View notes

allywthsr · 9 months

Text

CHARITY STREAM | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando stream 24h for charity! Lots of gaming and chatting

wordcount: 1.8k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: tumblr wouldn’t let me post anything?? It’s late again!🥲

advent calendar

Lando and you started a new tradition this year.

This year you wanted to do a little charity stream during the holidays, where people could donate, and in the end, the money would go into different organizations. Shelters for homeless people, women’s shelters, and on your request, some animal shelters as well.

You two also donated twenty thousand pounds to kick things off, and you hoped people would give some of their money to a good cause, no matter how much money someone donates, every penny counts and is helping someone to survive. Especially during Christmas and the winter, it was harder for people that do not have a stable home to survive, eat, shower, or even go to the toilet. That was something, they didn’t always have access to, and that is why you and Lando decided to do this charity stream.

The stream is twenty-four hours long, a full day of streaming, mostly it will be Lando in front of the camera because the people want to see him, but you would join him. It’s going to start with some cookie baking, and then you go straight to the PC to play games, Fortnite, CoD, the Truck simulator, and the Santa simulator were already planned, just as a lot of talking to the chats and every hour you would explain and introduce one more shelter, you donate to.

And that’s where you were sitting right now, in front of the computer, next to Lando and the ring light behind his PC was providing you with light. Lando clicked on the start button, and the stream loaded, the first few hello’s and comments started rolling in.

”Hey guys, Y/N and I decided to do something new this year. Today we’re raising money for charity, not everyone is privileged enough to have a roof over their head, so we want to donate money to different organizations. Y/N and I are gonna stream for twenty-four hours, we’re playing different games, but first, we start with some cookie baking, I‘m going to switch you to the kitchen cam, and then we‘re going to cut out cookies.“

You prepared the cookie dough two hours ago and it sat in the fridge, waiting for you two to roll it out. Lando switched to the kitchen cam, and you two appeared behind the kitchen island, on the island there were many cookie cutters, flour, baking paper, and multiple rolling pins scattered. You opened the fridge and took the cookie dough on the counter, taking a piece of it and rolling it out with a rolling pin.

Lando started to press different cookie cutters into the dough.

”Chat, what do you think about my Santa?“

After a few seconds, comments came in complementing him, ”It’s not that hard baby, you used a cookie cutter.“

”She‘s always negative, chat, I don’t know why she’s even here.“

Obviously, he was joking, squeezing your hips shortly after he said that. The next half hour was spent cutting out the dough into small shapes with the cookie cutters and taking out baked cookies from the oven.

”Alright chat, we‘ll go over to the PC and play some games, maybe later we will go back to the kitchen and decorate them.“

You two sat at the PC and looked at the chat, reading some comments, donations were already coming in and Lando was thanking every single one of them. The count was already at two thousand of just viewer donations, some crazy people are out there and it astonished you. Now Lando sat in his gaming chair, while you sat in your chair and with your MacBook in front of you, Fortnite open and ready to play. You two were playing in duos and when the first game started, you two were freaking out. Lando wasn’t a pro, just like you aren’t, you were dying before you even picked up a gun and Lando wasn’t any better, stream snipers were making your life hard and you tried to play it for two hours but after not getting a win, it was time to stop playing that frustrating game.

You switched to just talking to the chat, by now twenty thousand people were watching, and they had a lot of questions. It wasn’t like you were in a new relationship with Lando, most of his fans only knew him with you on his side, you‘ve been with him since he started his Formula One career, but you retold your whole getting-to-know-each-other story. Ditching questions that had anything to do with marriage or kids, you both wanted to focus on life and your careers and touch that topic later in life, a lot of people didn’t get that, and had to spam the comments. So you decided to play the next game, the Santa simulator.

Lando started off with collecting presents for different children, having to decide if they get something good or just a piece of coal. Lucas was not focusing on school but more on his hobby, no Lando had to decide what he would get, because of Lando’s own school history, Lucas got a big new bike like he wished. Marie was always a good girl, cleaning up behind herself, a good student, and always on her best behavior. Because Lando thought she needed to be more rebellious, she got some coal, but a new pair of slippers too, so she wouldn’t feel to... sad. Next, he had to take care of the reindeers, brushing their fur and feeding them before putting them in front of the sleigh, the last thing that needed to be done was to deliver the presents. Lando had to fly through the sky and ditch multiple obstacles, landing safely on houses without getting noticed by anyone. The sliding down the chimney and laying the presents underneath the tree was the hardest part, he had to do it as quietly as possible, so he wouldn’t wake up any of the kids. In the end, most of the kids weren’t happy with their presents and he wasn’t quiet enough, the mission was failed, but you two had fun.

Six hours in and eighteen more to go, next Lando wanted to play CoD, you had an important phone call, so you couldn’t join or watch him, but after two hours of discussing things with your and Lando’s management, Lando was still playing it.

”This is the last round, baby“, he said as you sat down next to him on your chair. You pulled out your phone to check some reactions to the stream, so far people were loving it. When the clock hit the next full hour, it was time to announce the next sponsor, this hour you talked about the Red Cross, what they did, and how people could help outside of the stream.

While chatting about that, Lando got touchy and placed his hand on your cross-legged thigh, caressing it gently. Immediately comments about that came in and people were swooning over Lando’s need of physical attention.

”Chat, what should we play?“

Comments were saying Fortnite or the truck simulator, so you two chose the truck simulator, Lando and you hadn’t played that game since lockdown ended and you even got a little excited. You linked your MacBook with Lando’s game and now you could play together, fulfilling quests and pushing each other off the street. The room was filled with laughter and screams, as the others always pushed the truck off or doing everything they weren’t supposed to do, like hitting different cars or turning the wrong way.

After Lando shut off the game, it was hour ten and you two got hungry, in between the games you‘d already prepared some snacks, but you needed an actual dinner, so quickly you boiled some pasta and made a quick sauce. You brought it to Lando and you two made an unplanned asmr session, most of the people loved how you weirdly slowly chewed your pasta and when Lando smushed around the sauce, you couldn’t contain your laughter in between bites.

Lando had a Lego piece he wanted to build for quite some time, but he never did, so he got the package out and poured out all the bags. What you thought would take an hour, turned out to take four hours, Lando got confused at some steps and had to redo them, as you were focused on a different step. But you never thought it would take you so long, stretching your knuckles and fingers after you finished.

After talking to the chat, you reminded Lando of the cookies that were still untouched in the kitchen and he quickly switched to the kitchen cam, where he sat and waited for you to prepare the chocolates and sprinkles. Lando wasn’t the most patient man, so mostly the cookies got dipped in the chocolate and maybe some sprinkles were put on the chocolate. But most of them were eaten before they could be decorated anyway.

Next, you did the gingerbread house challenge, if you were in the kitchen anyway.

With only six hours to go, and the struggle to stay awake, you drank multiple beverages with caffeine. You played another round of Fortnite, joined by Max F. and you even won one round, mostly because you got carried by someone, but the end result mattered.

Going in the last three hours, a lot of chatting and watching YouTube videos was done, compilations of Y/N and Lando being cute or the latest unboxed. In the end you raised over forty thousand pounds, saying goodbye to the chat when the twenty four hour mark was crossed. Lando ended the stream and you let out a big sigh, finally you didn’t have thousand of eyes on you anymore, with a stretch, you linked Lando’s and your hand together and pulled him to the bed, ready for a big nap.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine

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inuyashaluver · 10 months

Note

would you ever write a jessie fleming x reader fic??? love ur work you carry woso tumblr

something more - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which you’ve always wanted more out of your friendship with jessie, but maybe she’s willing to give that to you

warnings: kinda lonnggg

a/n: hiya! thanks for the request, also that’s the nicest thing ever, i did tear up at that literally thank you so much, the woso tumblr writers are truly phenomenal, enjoy!❤️

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you and your best friend, jessie fleming met during a friendly match between your national teams, canada and england. when you saw her for the first time, you have to admit, you thought she was beautiful. you were both midfielders, marking each other the whole game, you couldn’t help but flush a little red when she placed a hand on your lower back when you had the ball. good thing the air was cold.

england had won, you walked around to shake the hands of the canadian players when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey, (y/n) right?” you turn and face none other than jessie, your mouth slightly hangs open as she gives you a shy smile. “uh yeah! nice to meet you” she extends her hand for a handshake and you return it, her hands were so soft, you were star struck.

“well (y/n), good game, i hope to see you around” her smile never drops, her face is slightly red, she must be cold (nope). “yeah, you too, jessie” you smile at her and she waves goodbye at you. you watch her leave, her teammates teasing and shoving her. you tilt your head to the side, what was that reaction?

you turn to see majority of your team smiling at you, “what” you say, “nothing, nothing” leah says with a smirk, “alright girls, let’s get out of here” she comes up to you, putting a hand over her mouth as she whispers in your ear, “those pink cheeks aren’t fooling anyone, love” you shove her off you and run away, everyone laughing at your reaction.

—

you were signed to chelsea, you guys had training and were doing some light stretching for a warm up. you were doing partner stretches with your national teammate, niamh. you were helping her stretch when all of a sudden, a certain brunette walks through the door in a chelsea training kit, you drop niamh’s leg and she protests before following to where your eyes were.

your mouth was slightly agape, niamh hurriedly stood next to you and shut your mouth for you. “so she’s the new signing” niamh pointed out, looking at you worriedly because you hadn’t said anything. “how?” you breathe out, “well, my friend, she gets called by management and then comes here to sign a contract and boom! she’s here!” she mocks and laughs when you lightly slap her arm.

jessie was getting talked to by a member of staff when she makes eye contact with you. she smiles brightly and nods her head with a small wave. you smile back at her with a little wave, looking away when niamh was teasing you in the corner.

she quickly disperses when she sees jessie smiling and walking up to you.

“hey, (y/n)!” jessie pulls you into a tight hug, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her waist. “hey, jessie! nice to see you again” she pulls away from you, a bright smile spread on her face. “i didn’t know you were coming to chelsea” you say with a shy smile, “do you not want me here or something?” she remarks with a smirk.

“no no i do! i’m very happy you’re here!” you quickly grab her arm and she looks down at it, smiling, you let go thinking she was uncomfortable, missing her frown when you let go.

“i’m very happy you’re here too” she says shyly, you both smile at each other till you both get called for drills.

you partner up for drills, you can’t ignore the fact that jessie is extremely touchy with you. whether it was holding your arm, your hand or slinging an arm over your shoulder. you can’t help but lean into it every time, the affection feeling so natural and familiar to both of you.

the more you interacted with each other, the more you realised you had in common. she fit into the team well, but you couldn’t help but notice she didn’t interact with the others the way she did with you. sure she was extremely friendly, but she didn’t touch the others like she did with you, or talk to the others the way she did with you. you can’t help but wonder, maybe she felt somewhat the same? (obviously)

—

as the months turn into years, the two of you grow closer and closer. going out for lunches, buying each other little gifts, always partnering up during training, being the first to celebrate with on the pitch. you two had truly become best friends.

one day you were at training, absolutely exhausted, lying on the floor after a gruelling session. jessie comes and lies next to you, she places an arm under your head acting as a pillow, grinning when you lean into her more, sighing contemptly.

“what’s the plan now, (y/n/n)?” you move your head to look up at her to find she was already looking at you. “movie at mine?” you question, jessie immediately agreeing and pulling the both of you to stand up, slinging her arm over your shoulder while walking you to the change room.

niamh snickers when she sees you two sitting in your cubby, chatting. niamh sneaking a photo of the two of you and sending it to the lioness group chat - which you were in by the way!

“our little (y/n) is in love!” she texts under the photo, replies coming through quickly: “get it girlie!”, “holy shit”, “a canadian (y/n)? we could’ve gotten you a nice brit” you look at your phone and flush red, looking up at niamh across from you and flipping her off.

“you okay, babe?” jessie questions your frown, you nod your head at her with a smile, “yeah, let’s go now!” you quickly haul her up and shove her out the door, turning to niamh again, “you’re a little shit” you point your finger at her. she laughs brightly at you, waving at you and blowing you a kiss, “i love you!” niamh screams after you

—

you get to your house, jessie knew this place all too well, coming over nearly every day. you sat on one end of the couch while jessie lay her head in your lap. you were flicking through the movies trying to pick one to watch, jessie being no help, closing her eyes and sinking into your lap and couch.

you slot a hand through her hair and she hums at the contact, flipping over and nuzzling her head into your stomach, wrapping her arms around your torso and holding you close together. you embarrassingly let out a little squeak feeling her mouth graze your exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. you can feel her grin into your stomach and you freeze when you feel her hand dip into the back of your shirt to trace light shapes with her finger on your lower back.

you were about to say something when you hear jessie’s phone ping on the coffee table. “read that for me?” she mumbles into your skin, groaning when you slightly lean forward to grab her phone. you freeze again, her wallpaper sending shivers down your spine, your mouth went dry.

her wallpaper was a candid photo of you wearing one of jessie’s hoodies when you got cold, her name “fleming” plastered on the front emblem over your heart and the back. you had such a happy smile on your face, pink cheeks evident on your face.

“babe?” she slightly pulls away from you, looking up at your shocked face, “you okay?” she questions, now removing herself from you and sitting up properly, holding your hand tightly. she only looks at your face until she sees what you’re looking at, her wallpaper.

“oh!” she starts worriedly, “sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, it’s just such a cute picture” she smiles sheepishly, going to let go of your hand but you hold her hand tighter.

all you could do was shake your head and look at her with blown out pupils. you quickly take out your phone out of your pocket and show your own wallpaper, a picture of her lifting you up in celebration as you hug her tightly. she grabs your phone from you and blushes as she inspects the photo, finally picking up the courage to look you in the eye.

“hi” you breathe out and she laughs brightly, “hey, beautiful” she returns with a grin. placing a gentle hand on your knee and absentmindedly running her thumb over it. “what are you thinking about, baby?” she questions, smiling at you encouragingly. “um” you breathe out shakily, gripping onto her hand tighter. “you” you swallow. she smiles at you, “oh yeah? what about me?” she whispers lowly, smirking at your flustered expression. you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“come on, baby, you can say it” she was always the one making the first move, wanting you to take over this time. she squeezes your lower thigh, giggling when you tense up. you avert your eyes from her, looking down at the coffee table, she ducks her head to follow your eyes and you instantly burn up.

“jessie” you start, “yeah, baby” she moves closer to you, nodding her head. “i like you” her eyes brighten and she smiles excitedly, “i like you too, ever since the friendly match, baby girl” you lightly shove her, “i told the girls before that i thought you were beautiful and they told me to make a move”

you decide to make a bold move and straddle her lap, she happily welcomes you and holds onto your hips, you were both completely flushed. “i was crushing on you majorly, fleming” she lightly pinches your waist, “i was more” she mocks, you shake your head at her with a grin, you move to whisper in her ear, “the lioness group chat is full of me and you, baby, everyone has been waiting for this” your lips lightly graze her ear and she grips your hips tighter, “you should see the canada one, baby” you both let out a laugh together, looking into each other’s eyes softly.

jessie’s eyes flicker between your own, occasionally falling to your lips. “can i kiss you, (y/n)?” giggling when you nod your head eagerly, she places a hand on your cheek and smiles at you again, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your lips. suddenly feeling confident, you grab the back of her head and deepen the kiss by prodding your tongue on her bottom lip, your tongue moving with hers harmoniously. a small groan from the back of her throat comes out when you scratch her scalp with your nails, you whine into her mouth with a grin before pulling away from her.

you pull away breathlessly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear with a soft smile. you held the sides of her neck with both of your hands and place a soft peck on her lips. she smiles up at you and pulls the back of your head down to return the favour.

“you’re so pretty” she nuzzles her nose with yours. you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her into a hug. “you’re so pretty” you say, squirming when you feel her place a kiss on your neck.

—

when you come into training the next day holding each other’s hands, the girls cheer for you and jessie holds your hand up victoriously. niamh comes up and steals you away, lifting you up and running around the field. “hell yeah, (y/n/n)! proud of you!” you laugh brightly when she places you on the ground. “we’ve gotta find someone for you now, missy” you say cheekily and chase her around the field, you stop when she holds up a water bottle threateningly, you run and hop on jessie’s back.

“save me, baby!” she holds onto your thighs and runs from niamh, niamh seeing your matching smiles leaves you both alone when she sees you having so much fun.

you stay on jessie’s back during the team talk, your arms wrapped around her neck, occasionally whispering in her ear and joking around with each other. both of you were so happy, mainly both of your friends who had seen you pining over each other for so long.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: oh, we’re dating btw @/yourname

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yourname: my baby ❤️

↳ _jessflem: no MY baby

lionesses: finally!!

↳ canadasoccer: finally!!!!

niamhcharles17: finally

leahwilliamsonn: finally

yourname: i will block all of you

↳ _jessflem: ditto, baby

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader

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