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malarkgirlypop · 8 months

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Warriors (Edward Tipper x F!Reader) Part 2

Hola! Here is part two! Feels weird to finish a story since my other one is going on forever ahaha. I hope you like it @lenabob! Special thanks to my ghost reader @brassknucklespeirs who gets to be read these fics like a bed time story. You're my bitch! Even now when she is violently hungover she gets to proof read my work. Thanks boo, you have officially created a monster. Based on the HBO series and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the men who served.

***

Y/N loads into the plane, struggling to climb the ladder due to the extra gear that had been given to all of the soldiers. Needing to be pushed from behind to get her into the plane. She takes a seat on the bench, her heart beating in her ears. Tipper sits beside her, he doesn’t say anything but takes her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She looks over to the man, his face covered in paint, but still the same handsome man as always. His eyes crinkle at the sides as he gives her a smile, she can’t help but smile back. They keep their hands locked together. As the reality settles in. Soon they would be jumping out of this plane and into war. Some of them would make it and some wouldn’t, there was no guarantee. The engine of the plane roared to life being the only thing you could hear.

“I’ll find you.” Tipper yells in her ear. Y/N nods. They had made a plan that they would find each other and stick together after they had landed. It was optimistic of them to think that would happen. The plane rattled, the men sitting in silence. Nervous looks on all of their faces. This was happening, everything they trained for was coming to fruition. The plane shuddered forward, taking off down the runway. After gaining enough speed the wheels left the ground as it soared into the air. It felt like the longest flight. Soon it was dark outside. Tipper and Y/N were still pressed together holding hands. They were savouring their last moments with each other before dropping into the mayhem that was war. The chaos soon found them though before they had even landed. The red light signalled on. Winters commanded everyone to their feet, readying them for the jump. Bomb blasts lit up the night sky. The bombs hit closer, sending the plane sideways, as the men got thrown off their feet. Scrambling to stand back up. Fire exploding around them, Y/N could feel the heat of the explosives as they blew. A gasp left her lips, from where she was standing she could see out the open door. A plane to their right took a direct hit. Splitting in half, the front of the plane nosedived towards the ground as the back of the plane followed suit. A blast close by sent shards of glass flying through the cabin hitting some of the men behind her. They cried out in pain. She begged the light to turn green, up here they were sitting ducks. She was ready to be out of the flying death trap. The plane flew up and down, swerving out of the way of other falling planes and debris making it hard for the men to stay on their feet. The light finally turned green, a sigh of relief leaving Y/N lips. The men jumped one by one. Tipper jumped ahead of her, sending her a tight smile. Soon she was falling out of the plane. She winced as bullets ripped past her, explosions blast nearby sending waves of heat in her direction. She couldn’t see anything in the dark of the night, disorientated from the scattered blasts of light from the explosions. Y/N looks to the ground where she was heading to land, finding a plane beneath her on fire. Yanking on her parachute straps she was able to dodge the fiery mess. She landed harshly on the ground, quickly removing her gear to get out of the open field she just landed in. Fumbling around she brought up the rope her leg bag was attached to. Only to find a frayed end, oh that’s just great. After walking in the dark for what felt like forever, Y/N finally stumbled across some of the other men, greeting them with the code word flash and their reply of thunder. They were a while away from their objective but they were able to locate where they were. They walked all night, strolling down the road the sun rose behind them leaving a beautiful burnt orange sky. They marched into the farm where the rest of the soldiers had gathered. Y/N eyes scanned the faces of the men who walked past, looking for a certain nose she had saved to memory. Y/N spotted Lieb who sat on a stone wall.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Lieb joked, giving Y/N a squeeze. She peered over the man’s shoulder as they embraced still searching. A helmet popped up from behind the wall, followed by a familiar face, Y/N almost pushed Lieb out of the way to reach the man.

“Tipper!” She yelled at the man who hadn’t noticed her yet. His eyes flicked to her recognising the voice.

“Y/N!” They rushed towards each other, Y/N jumped into his arms wrapping her legs around his sides, she could cry with happiness to see the man alive and uninjured. They sobered after hearing the other men fall into silence watching their intimate reunion. Y/N quickly unhooked her legs from Tip as he placed her back on the ground. Giving each other a sheepish smile. She looked over to Lieb who was grinning, she raised her eyebrows at him daring him to make a comment. Lieb made a face and shrugged his shoulders. As the rest of the men started chatting with each other again. Tipper and Y/N sat next to each other as they exchanged stories about how they had reached the farm. By nightfall the second battalion had secured Sainte-Marie-du-Mont, and elements of the 4th division were beginning to move men and material inland. They had given the soldiers an hour to rest and scrounge for any food they could find. Y/N and Tipper sat in the back of the truck with the other soldiers of Easy company. Malarkey was cooking some stew in a half cut gasoline tank. Y/N chuckled as Buck told them about poor Popeye being shot in the ass that day, when they were securing the guns. Malarkey started handing out his dish he had made. Tipper and Y/N stared eating, giving each other a surprised look of, wait this is actually kinda good.

“Don’t look at each other like that!” Malarkey said as they exchanged a glance.

“Look at each other like what?” Y/N laughed.

“Like you're surprised it’s good. Of course it’s good, I made it!” Malarkey puffed out his chest in pride, making the pair laugh harder.

“It’s very good, thank you Don.” Y/N thanked the chef as they grinned at each other. Tipper nudged her with his arm as they shared another chuckle between them.

Easy company sit around the monument in the middle of the town, waiting for instructions to move. Tipper and Y/N are stuck to each other.

“This is my first time in France.” Tipper says as he sips on his canteen looking around the town.

“Me too, is’t it nice we get to see France together.” Y/N jokes, Tipper elbows her.

“You know what I mean. Weird to think the only reason we are here is because of the war. I don’t think I would’ve travelled to France if it wasn’t for this.” Tipper ponders. Y/N nods her head.

“Well we wouldn’t have met if it wasn’t for the war.” Y/N thought out loud.

“Should we cheers to the war then, for letting us find each other?” Tipper held out his canteen, and Y/N clinked them together.

“To the war!” They mumbled together.

“Let’s go first platoon, Easy’s moving out! On your feet!” Welsh yells from in front of them. They help each other stand making their way in front of Welsh to listen to his command. Welsh tells the soldier’s they are on light and noise discipline, and that they are taking Carentan. The men move out following behind Welsh. Y/N nerves return, this will be the first time in combat.

Night falls quickly, as they march towards their next destination. Everyone followed orders keeping quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the crunching of ground underfoot and the distant echoes of gunfire. Everyone was on high alert as they walked. Due to the poor visibility of night Y/N eyes flitted from one thing to another. Her brain used to trick her when she was younger, when she would be lying in bed unable to get to sleep her mind would race. Thinking about monsters lurking in the shadows, her eyes would land on a darkness in her room which looked like a man standing in the corner. She would be quick to turn on her flashlight pointing it in the direction of the shadowy figure, only to find her coat hung over the back of her door. Her eyes did the same on this walk, any bush or tree that looked oddly human shaped would make her jump and point her gun in it’s direction, only for her eyes to adjust and see that her brain was showing her things that weren’t really there. The other men would continue their walk past her as she glared at the humanoid bush, cursing it for being so creepy. Tipper stayed close, walking behind Y/N. He would wait for her as she assessed her surroundings, not making any jokes or teasing her for thinking everything was alive, because he felt the same.

D-day plus 6, that was when they finally came upon Carentan. The small town was desolate, smoke rising from the centre, due to old fires finally burning out. There was an unmistakable air of kenopsia around the town. Crouching down just outside of the town the platoons waited for instructions. The signal went for the ambush to begin. In a group they charge down the entrance to the town, soon to be met with enemy fire. Y/N and Tipper dive into the ditch as men fall to the ground around them. Y/N ducks as she is pinned down by the rivals fire.

“GET MOVING!” Winters screams at the men. Y/N rises to her feet clambering out of the ditch, running into the field nearby to find another entrance into the town, other men follow her lead. Y/N barges through a side gate into a back road. Y/N pins herself to the side of a building. Peeking her head round the corner she spots gun fire from the top window of the nearby shops. Raising her rifle, she lines up the shot. Squeezing the trigger letting her round fire into her target. The shooting from the shops stops. The soldier across from her is shot as he collaspes to the floor.

“Sniper!” She yells to the men behind her, as she glances around trying to figure out where the shot came from. She spots a man lying down hidden in a stairway with his rifle propped up. That’s him. She turns her fire to the sniper, raising her rifle once again. Hitting him with precision, the man slumps down unmoving. Machine gun fire hits the building Y/N and the men cover behind. They duck back further behind the wall to ensure they aren’t hit. Y/N gives the men a signal telling them to wait, when the fire stops she knows they are reloading. Popping around the corner she takes out the machine gunners in the lower shop window. Now with the machine gun down they are able to move further into the town. They move forward as a group, keeping low. Some of the men split up to clear the other building close by to ensure all of the enemy were gone. Y/N glanced around at the men who were with her, faces all familiar but the one she desperately seeked was not there. Y/N turned her attention back to the task at hand, Tipper will be fine, stop worrying.

Tipper ran with Lieb, also scanning the faces for Y/N but he hadn’t seen her in a while. She had gotten out of the ditch so fast he couldn’t keep up. He knew she would be safe though.

“Tipper take Liebgott, start clearing these buildings.” Welsh ordered the men, as they took cover in a doorway.

Tipper got down on his knee propping the bazooka onto his shoulder aiming for the building across from them. The sound boomed from the weapon as the rocket soared into the structure blasting a hole through the front of it, sending debris flying into the street. Tipper was on his feet again moving to clear out the next house. A loud rumble shook the ground they ran on.

“They got us zeroed! Spread it out! Spread it out!” Lip yelled from a high point. The whistling sound piercing through the air signalling bombs were being dropped from the sky as they hit the town the men were in. Bombs rocked the town blowing the street and houses to pieces, the men fled from the street, trying to get out of the open. Tipper watched as a soldier standing in the street got torn to pieces from a shell landing next to him, his legs stayed planted to the ground while his body flew into the air landing on the ground next to his legs. Tipper looked away from the horrific scene, trying his best to not think about what he had just witnessed.

Running towards a pharmacy, Lieb and Tipper kick in the door, ensuring the building is clear. Guns at the ready, they sweep the inside. Tipper moves to the back of the building, opening the back door. A sheet flaps in the wind making the man gasp in fright, as he staggers back. Lifting his gun.

Tipper yells, “Hello?” to the green shed in the back garden. “Anybody there?” he calls again before firing a couple of shots into the structure.

Y/N sees Lieb leave the pharmacy. “Where’s Tipper?” She calls to the man, he motions behind him to the building. Her eyes fixed onto the window trying to see if she could spot the silhouette of the man. Moving towards the building she makes her way to the doorway. A whistling sound catches her attention. SHIT. Tipper stands just a couple of metres away. Everything slows as she runs forward towards him. Lunging forward she captures him in her arms tackling them to the floor as the shell hits, sending them flying further back into the building. They groan as they lie on the floor together. After getting her bearings again, Y/N crawls up to be closer to Tipper’s face. Y/N scans his head and torso looking for any injuries. Tipper does the same grabbing her face in his hands giving her a once over with his eyes.

“You ok?” He pants, too stunned to speak, Y/N nods her head. “You saved me!” he says shocked.

“Of course I saved you idiot.” She replies. He shakes his head in disbelief, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I love you, Y/N.” Tipper whispers into her ear. Y/N pulls back to see if he’s being genuine. His eyes shine as he looks at her.

“What?” Y/N asked, baffled by his confession, he loves me?

“To tell you the truth Y/N, I have loved you ever since we collided on Currahee. I had just been waiting for you to figure it out.” He confesses. She’s speechless, looking at the man that she has loved now for years. Their eyes looking from each other to their lips. They moved forward gently, finding each other in the middle. Their lips press together softly, as they hold each other close. Letting the world around them fall away for just a moment. They pull away, only to collide again. This time with more lust and need. Y/N gripping her fingers into the back of Tipper’s hair, needing him closer than they were currently. Tipper’s hand slipping under her jacket to grip her hips rocking her forward. They part once more, panting, “I love you.” Y/N whispers back.

#STAWP SHES DONE #I finishes a story and that is surprising #I never finish anything #My undiagnosed ADHD doesn't let me finish things #Anyway heres part 2 as promised #Sorry if it is bad I didn't really proof read it whoops #My ghost reader is hungover so blame her #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #donald malarkey #bill guarnere #joe toye #reading #band of brothers fluff #band of brothers x reader #Edward Tipper x F!reader

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vice-s-assistant · 3 months

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Last night I had a nightmare that I was trying to stop some lady from getting possessed by some demon and failed. I had to kill her. It broke me and my demon catching friend's heart. Unfornately, the demon possessed the next best thing...Patrick Star from Spongebob.

Patrick, who was on dry land for some reason, stepped into the grass yard. I had some sort of demon spell traps lying there which removed the demon out of him. Unfornately, it made him act like a dog and I had to chase him like the end of a Spongebob cartoon w/ matching OST. I guess this is just leading up to me saying that NASB2 is great game and its still free to try, if you want to try it. But beware of extremely strange nightmares that you might have after playing it.

#nick all star brawl 2 #NSAB 2 #bad humor #No joke #At the end of the dream I tried hailing a cab by saying I was incredibly rich and a extremely poor tipper.#That didn't work : (

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baronessblixen · 2 years

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In Rm9sbG93ZXJz (yes i wrote it lolz) I love how Mulder is willing to risk his life until the very end rather than give a 10% tip and then looks so pissed off when he finally does give it lmao

Mulder all like, "I'd rather be killed by robots than tip them." Glad he came to his senses in the end.

#lovely anons #the episode is a bit ridiculous #but i kinda like it #mulder is a bad tipper #that is simply cute

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goodgrammaritan · 2 years

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Concept: a store only patronized by current and former retail workers

#retail #bad customers #adventures in retail #like how the best tippers have worked in food service #the nicest customers have worked in customer service or retail

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eddiegirls · 2 years

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some ppl on here have vibes like they'd be bad tippers. like i just know some of you are tipping 12% bc you had to wait 10 mins for the check

#none of my mutuals have bad tipper vibes tho they're perfect

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xp999 · 1 year

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evil take but I can be convinced that waiters who don't write your orders down are worse than bad tippers

#I think that guy blocked me for talking about how bad tippers aren't THAT bad #but fair enough I was being annoying LMAO id block my ass too #ett

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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Sex Worker/Prostitute Reader X König,

Originally only slept with Konig because none of the other girls in the residence wanted to, but eventually he became a regular, and a pretty good tipper, besides the places he took her dates/dinner to were pretty nice, it probably be alright to keep him as a regular

Konig is the type to ask his mates whether or not a camgirl on his favorite website really likes him after he bought her 1000 Euros worth of sex toys and treats. He is the type to buy a whole night with you just to spend half of it not fucking, but sleeping on your lap instead and ask you to feed him grapes or something. The type to find a picture of you on the sex work website and fall in love immediately, making it his goal to get out of the employment unscathed so he could get to fuck you. You were really nervous about sleeping with a guy like him at first. Seriously, it is one of the worst mistakes of your life - they are usually cruel and rough and sometimes become violent if provoked. Your brothel provided protection, but you doubt that any of the security guys could tackle a man like Konig if he were to become violent. But, he paid for three hours upfront, and had the eyes of a really sad puppy. You don't want to crush a pup's dreams, so you just hold him while he fucks you like a man starved. He talks about his job - and you immediately want to press a distress button because fuck no, you are not sleeping with a mercenary. Then he leaves the tip. That is more than the three hours he even paid for. Sometimes you even consider going solo because of him. He pays you too much for the stuff that you do - even with the amount of poses you practice with him, as you push yourself onto him and hold like a snake, he is still soft. Scared, almost. He treats you like an actual girlfriend sometimes and you feel bad because fuck no, the guy is nice and he deserves to have an actual partner who will receive these expensive gifts. But Konig is dead set on treating you to dinner before every night together, and even when he disappears for his deployment for weeks on end, he still sends you money as long as you treat him to your nudes. You don't usually send your number to the clients, too much of a danger, but Konig seems...fine. Not too cruel, at least. Then he started to become weird. Money and compliments became long conversations. Then phone calls. You don't even want to ask for money anymore because, honestly, hearing this man mumbling about his parents is scaring you enough. You really, really don't want to witness this...yet you don't really have a choice on the matter.

#konig x reader #cod #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader

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cupid-styles · 5 months

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late night talking

in which harry’s quiet, shy, and always sends y/n tips during her cam streams. or: nerdrry x cam girl y/n

word count: 5.9k (wanted to get this out before christmas so it’s a bit on the shorter side than my other longer fics!!)

content warnings: sexual content (y/n is a cam girl soooooo voyeurism/exhibitionism is implied), smut (mutual masturbation, dirty talk/sexting, daddy kink, slight dom/sub dynamics)

please lmk if you’d want a part two for these cuties !

part two here

. . .

On a day-to-day, this is how Y/N typically spends her time:

She wakes up and throws herself in the shower with her eyes half shut. She eats some type of sustenance for breakfast, whether it be a granola bar or a warranted effort at some overnight chia seed concoction, and then heads to her main job, where her boss, Sam, has half her experience and somehow gets paid double her salary.

She does whatever's asked of her all day because she went to school for graphic design and she quite likes it, but only when Sam isn't up her ass, asking her to do tasks he's too lazy to do. At 5 pm on the dot, Sam is usually trying to get her to stay late but she's already on her way out the door. When she gets home, she forces down another quick meal — sometimes it's one of those frozen, premade things, other times she has the energy to make a veggie pasta or stir fry — pulls on a lingerie set, and sits on her cam site, where she strips and touches herself for money from strangers.

Her cam streams are her favorite part of her day.

She guesses she's some type of exhibitionist if she enjoys getting off in front of people she doesn't know, but it's a win-win considering they're voyeurs, too. Plus, when you put monetary tips on top of it — well, Y/N can't really complain.

She hides her face because her worst nightmare is her family finding out (that just sounds like a nightmare of a conversation to have with her parents), but she does have a few regular customers that come to most, if not all of her streams, are consistent tippers, and are always sweet to her. They ask about how she's doing and are polite in their requests, typically following them up with some sort of financial compensation so she has a reason to go through with it. It's not a bad deal at all — she enjoys her little community and the whole double life thing isn't the worst thing in the world.

Y/N's been doing this for about a year, so she's gotten pretty familiar with the types of customers that come through her stream, but there's one in particular — fleetwoodlondon — that somehow still has her stumped.

The thing is, this fleetwoodlondon person is far too nice. That's what confuses her the most. He (and she assumes it's a guy, because she doubts any woman would do this type of thing, but maybe she's just stereotyping) sends her tips for nothing in exchange, always tacking a bit more on when she's mentioned that she's had a rough day or she hasn't had a chance to eat dinner yet. She's messaged him privately, too, thanking him for his generosity and asking if he wants anything special in return, but he always says the same thing: No, that's alright. Thank you for the offer. Have a good night. x

There's a part of her that feels like it's bazaar, but there's a larger portion that's fascinated by him. She wants to know why he does what he does, why he feels that she's special enough to even do this in the first place.

It's a shame he's rarely willing to exchange more than 10 words with her.

. . .

Harry's days usually go like this:

Wake up, do some yoga or meditation, and log onto work. He works from home as a computer engineer for some large company that, if he's being honest, he doesn't really know a ton about, but they pay him extremely well and let him stay home all day, so it evens out. He's a diligent, hard worker on a small team of other shy, quiet people, so meetings are few and far between. On the occasion where he does have to present something a larger group, he'll stumble and stutter his way through a PowerPoint slideshow and take a puff of his asthma inhaler the second he's done.

When work is over, he hangs out with his cat, Beatrice, cooks them a yummy, healthy dinner, and watches TV with her. At the top of the 7 pm hour, he shuffles Beatrice off to his bedroom because he doesn't want her to see how her dad spends his free time: Watching a girl he doesn't know on a dodgy cam site, getting his rocks off, and sending her a large tip at the end of the night.

The first time he stumbled across her stream, he felt weird about it. It was semi-dystopian to watch someone in this way, knowing she was doing it live somewhere in the world. But she seemed to enjoy it and she had a decent crowd of subscribers and tippers in the chat, so it made him feel better when he eventually gave into his own temptation, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and fisting his cock the way she'd been encouraging her viewers to do. And the thing is, he never planned to attend another show — he assumed he'd just go on his merry way and that was the end of it.

But he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The softness of her skin, the lacy set that covered her most intimate parts, the giggles and teasing comments that fell from her plushy lips. He couldn't see any other parts of her face, but she had a pretty voice, and he just knew she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever see.

And, in complete honesty, he really loved when she shared small details about her life. It wasn't in a creepy way — he saw the way commenters replied in her chat and it made his stomach turn — but it was just... nice to get a peek into her life outside of this site, where Harry had to click out of porn pop-ups and erectile dysfunction ads every 5 minutes.

Hearing that she saw a cute dog on her way home from work or she got a free cookie with her lunch today was what reminded him that she was just another human, doing her best, the same way he was. And maybe it was true that he could never get her to pay attention to him in real life, but at least on this platform, he stood a chance.

Harry had more money than he knew what to do with. He lived a comfortable life, he didn't have a partner or kids, and his savings account was plentiful. If he sent moan-a-lisa (the first time he read her username, he did smirk at the playful pun) a decent tip at the end of the night, he wouldn't feel bad about it. His money could be going to worse places.

It was only when she started to message him privately that he started to panic.

About once a week, she would thank him profusely and ask if he wanted something in return — a custom video, pictures, even a phone call. But when he thought about it, he was just too anxious and scared — he felt like maybe he portrayed a slightly cool persona online, but if that wall got broken down, she'd see that he was lame. A computer nerd that stayed home all day and spent his money on a girl he'd never know in real life.

At least at a distance, she might at least think he's nice.

. . .

"Alright cuties, thank you so much for joining me tonight!"

Y/N watches as the chat floods with a variety of responses to her ending the stream: Some were kind (thank you for spending ur time w us!!!! have a good night!), others were sad and slightly parasocial (nooooo :( I'll miss u so much baby don't go), while the slight minority were just plain mean (stupid bitch u didn't even do anal 2nite).

"I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm eastern standard," she says with a toothy grin. She waves them a goodbye, clicks the "end live" button, and lets out a sigh of relief when her camera finally shuts off. Her show ended up being nearly four hours long tonight and she could feel a warm bubble bath calling her name.

As she begins her post-streaming routine of grabbing a snack, starting her bath, and peeling the lingerie set off her body, she hears her phone go off. Almost like clockwork.

She grabs it and glances down at the notification. Unsurprised, her eyes scan over the message: fleetwoodlondon sent you $300!

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she clicks on it and opens the app. Immediately, she thumbs over to their private conversation, where she types out a message.

moan-a-lisa: please tell me you've reconsidered and are willing to let me doing something in return for all these tips.

As she's tossing her peach-toned lace set in the hamper, her phone dings again. She already knows his response before she even reads it.

fleetwoodlondon: Nope. Have a good night. x

She smiles playfully at his reply and shakes her head, eyes still glued to her screen as she walks to her bathroom. She shuts the door, lights her favorite candle, and climbs into the porcelain tub, breathing out a deep sigh as the warm water and bubbles begin to soak her sore joints and muscles.

moan-a-lisa: please???? im in the bath rn and could give u a fun little peek:)

With the exception of customers that pay for phone sex or custom videos, Y/N never produces off-the-cuff content. But the mysterious air of this fleetwoodlondon user is enough to make her break some of her own rules.

She's surprised when she receives a near-immediate reply — she'd mentally prepared herself to wait 10 or so minutes before he typed back, like he usually does.

fleetwoodlondon: Cute.

fleetwoodlondon: I just don't want you to feel pressured to send me anything. I don't tip you for that reason.

With a confused expression, she sits up to shut the water off. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she lowers back into the water, contemplating the weight of his words. In the end, she decides to go with her gut.

moan-a-lisa: why do you tip me then?

She's not entirely shocked when she doesn't receive an instant response to her question. She sighs, dipping her head back into the warm water. It's annoying, the way this person she doesn't even know is sticking around in her brain. She's not big on dating or seeing people romantically, so it's pretty unusual for her to be so focused on someone.

She tosses her phone onto the plushy bath mat on the floor and decides to enjoy the comfort of her bath instead of worrying over it. She takes care to wash her body and face, and when she gets out she puts her favorite skincare products on before brushing her hair out. When she finally looks at her phone an hour later, she sees a notification from the user himself.

fleetwoodlondon: I just think you deserve it.

fleetwoodlondon: But again, I never want you to feel pressured into sending me something just because of the money..

She shakes her head as she walks back to her bedroom. Pulling a pair of comfortable sweats on, she's still confused by the angle he's playing at. And while most guys would maybe weird her out, she wonders if she's being naive by feeling some sort of kinship with this person.

As she's contemplating her response in the darkness of her bedroom, her phone buzzes again in her hand.

fleetwoodlondon: I just like hearing about you. Knowing that there's just another regular human behind the screen, I guess. I promise I'm not trying to be weird because I know you probably get a ton of odd messages from people all day.. but I suppose maybe I'm just sort of lonely? And I enjoy the consistency of knowing I can watch your stream every night.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm so sorry if that crosses a line. Reading that back, it's probably creepy.

She has to bite her lip to hold back the smile that curls onto her mouth from his words. It's not creepy, not coming from him, anyway. He seems... innocent, somehow, despite being a frequent viewer of her streams. And, in all honesty, she gets it — she's lonely, too. She doesn't have many people in her life besides her family and the people she works with. She understands why her viewers come to her daily streams because she shows up for the exact same reason.

moan-a-lisa: it's not weird. i get it

moan-a-lisa: but if you're not interested in receiving content from me in exchange for ur tips, can we do something else then?

fleetwoodlondon: What?

moan-a-lisa: tell me about your days too

fleetwoodlondon: Really?

moan-a-lisa: yeah. i think im lonely in the same way u are. it could be nice.

fleetwoodlondon: Okay. I can do that.

moan-a-lisa: good:)

. . .

Harry doesn't entirely realize what he's signed up for when she starts messaging him the next day.

In theory, he assumed that maybe she was just saying that stuff to be nice. He knows she has a habit of trying to relate to her viewers and make them feel special. It was kind of her, but he chalks it up to that — that is, until he receives a private message from her at 11 a.m. the following morning. He's never spoken to her during the day, only during or after her streams in the evening. His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when he reads her username on his phone — he's working on a big project with a few coworkers and they're on a meeting together (cameras off, of course), and he immediately chokes on his spit, excusing himself and turning his mic off.

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going so far?

He swallows nervously. What is he supposed to say? Isn't there some cardinal rule about not revealing private information to strangers on the internet? (Though he thinks maybe that went down the drain awhile ago, considering how they ended up in contact.) He nibbles on his bottom lip as he quickly types out a response, trying his best not to overthink it. She's just being nice, he reminds himself, she probably thinks you're some desperate loser who needs companionship.

fleetwoodlondon: It's been alright, just working. Nothing too exciting. How about you?

He attempts to redirect his focus back to the coworker that's currently asking him a question about the project when his phone instantly lights back up.

moan-a-lisa: boring:( im working too except i kind of hate my boss. he's a douche

moan-a-lisa: what do u do for work?

"Harry?"

He stutters, clicking the button to turn his mic back on, "Yeah, that sounds good, Mike," he rushes out nervously, "I trust you, you know what you're doing."

"Alright, we'll move forward with that, then."

"Great. I actually need to take a break for a bit, need to feed my cat," Harry says quickly. "Let's reconnect on this tomorrow."

His coworkers agree and the meeting ends, allowing him to focus all his brainpower on replying to her. Is it messed up that he ended a working session for this? Yes, potentially, and he feels guilty for it, too.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm a computer engineer. And I'm sorry to hear that you hate your boss... do you have another job outside of streaming?

moan-a-lisa: yea I do graphic design during the day

moan-a-lisa: computer engineering??? so in other words ur smart as fuck and that's how u afford to pay me ridiculous tips so often?

He snorts to himself. He's always felt his job title sounds more impressive than it actually is. In reality, tech stuff is all he's ever been good at, so it was a natural move to major in computer science in school. He never thought he was particularly intelligent, even if his professors and peers insisted that he was. To this day, he feels like he's just a computer nerd that got lucky.

fleetwoodlondon: I mean, I wouldn't say I'm 'smart as fuck' but I do have more money than I know what to do with. So yeah, I guess that would explain the tips.

moan-a-lisa: i feel like ur being wildly humble rn

fleetwoodlondon: Definitely not. I just happened to find the niche I'm good at.

fleetwoodlondon: Do you like graphic design?

moan-a-lisa: yeah but i think i would like it way more if i could do freelance work or go to another company. like i said my boss sucks, he's kind of a misogynist and has way less experience than me.. not saying i should have his job BUT

fleetwoodlondon: ...But you should have his job.

Harry's stomach tightens at the description of her boss. Thankfully, he's never been on the receiving end of such treatment, but he has friends that have — one of college peers was even told by a higher-up that she'd never get a managerial role at the company because of her sex. It makes him sick to think about, but especially when he imagines her being in that position. He doesn't know why he feels so protective over her (he knows she doesn't need that from a stranger online), but he does, and it's weird.

She doesn't reply after that and Harry forces himself to be okay with it. Now that he knows she has a day job, he reminds himself that she's busy and doesn't spend all of her time replying to private messages on her cam site. It's a bit of a struggle to focus on his job, but it's a welcomed distraction so he doesn't have to think about what she's doing or why she hasn't responded.

He ends up working late to make up for the meeting he cut short and the time he took to reply to her messages. But when he peers over the screen of his laptop and sees the digital clock in his living room tick towards 7 pm, it's almost as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response, the way he grows antsy and begins to thicken up in his pants. He takes his time logging off from work and heats up a leftover stir fry from the night prior, swallowing hot mouthfuls so he's ready in time for her show.

Just as he's done eating and he's bringing up a private tab on his phone, he gets a notification from their prior conversation. His stomach pings with anxiety, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he reads the words: will you be watching tn?

He thinks it's a stupid question — of course he'll be watching, but maybe she doesn't know she's part of his evening routine. He swallows, fingers trembling as he presses on the notification and quickly types back. Maybe he's over exhausted from staring at his computer screen all day, but the flirtatious response that comes from his end is even a surprise to him. Wouldn't miss it for the world, he sends back.

She responds with a few angel emojis, his heart doing a flip as he reads the words she sent: good. i like knowing ur in the audience:) message me after and let me know what u thought.

When her stream starts, he wants to bite his fist. She's wearing a beautiful navy blue set that serves as a gorgeous contrast to her smooth skin. The bralette and underwear are intricate with sweet lace detailings, providing peeks of her nipples and the small patch of pubic hair that decorates her mound.

"Hi everyone," she greets with a grin. Despite the usual angle that only reveals a bit of her mouth and chin, he somehow feels like he knows more of her now. Selfishly, he realizes that he hopes she doesn't talk to other viewers the way they've chatted. "How are we doing tonight?"

There's a lull in conversation and he knows it's because she's reading through the immediate uptick of responses in the chat. He recognizes a few of the usernames who are also regular viewers, while others likely found her on the homepage.

"I'm good, thanks for asking!" she replies, rolling her plush lips into her mouth, "I didn't have too bad of a day, actually. Had some nice entertainment to get me through work."

Harry's heart stalls slightly. She couldn't be talking about him, could she? It's probably wishful thinking, assuming that she would think that highly of their short conversation.

"You guys are so nosy," she giggles, the sound of it making him smile, "Since when do you care so much about my personal life? Thought you just wanted to watch me cum."

As if that serves as some sort of reminder for her viewers, tips begin to flow in, along with demands in the chat. He watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth as his eyes scan the messages too, stomach churning at what people ask of her. He wonders if it bothers her, but then again, he assumes she must have thick skin to do this. She doesn't need someone like Harry to defend her against horny strangers online.

"You're all silly," she murmurs as she rises onto her knees. Her thumbs find the thin fabric that hits at her hips, pulling the straps teasingly before letting them snap back against her skin. "Hold on, I have to do something."

For a moment, she cuts away from the screen, only leaving her legs in the view. Harry swallows as he lets himself examine her soft skin, fingers twitching at his sides as he imagines touching her — maybe even pressing kisses and dark marks into the surface of her thighs, too.

His eyes flicker up to a notification at the top of his screen and it reminds him to turn his phone on do not disturb. However, instead of finding an email from work or a text from a friend, it's her. She's messaging him while she streams, knowing he's watching. His stomach tightens almost instantly.

moan-a-lisa: are u watching?

fleetwoodlondon: Of course I am.

He watches as her lips curl into a small smile now that her body is back in frame. Her phone is in one hand while her other brushes up over her torso and chest and back down to her legs.

moan-a-lisa: what do you want me to do tonight?

He swallows harshly as she lowers her phone. She starts to reply to other messages in the chat, knowing it's important to engage with her viewers to keep them entertained.

"You guys know what my hard limits are, stop asking me to do that stuff," she says playfully, wiggling her hips slightly, "I promise, no amount of money will make me want to fist myself."

He snorts at that, momentarily forgetting that she's waiting on a response from him. Honestly, he doesn't know what's appropriate to ask of her — the last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable.

fleetwoodlondon: Do whatever you want. You should get to call the shots for once.

On screen, she hums, though it seems like it's mainly to herself. As she plucks at the straps of her bralette, slowly lowering them down her arms to reveal the valley of her breasts, her tongue peeks out to lick over her lips.

"I really just want someone to dominate me tonight," she says, her tone dropping seductively, "I wanna be told what to do and how to do it. My brain's so fuzzy from being so horny all day, I can barely make a decision for myself."

Harry swallows harshly at her words. The chat instantly goes wild as tips quickly flow in, volunteering to be the ones to do it. She smirks, winding her arm around to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"Sometimes I just think about you dominating me, you know that?" she murmurs, pursing her lips as her hands find her tits, gently squeezing at her nipples. "Today at work, it was all I could think about... made me so wet, I had a mess in my panties by the end of the day."

His eyes are bulging out of his head now — she couldn't possibly be talking directly to him, could she? It seemed silly and improbable, but also... they had spoken today while they both worked.

"Maybe someone from London, y'know? I've always had a soft spot for guys with British accents."

He almost comes in his pants on the spot.

At a surface level, Harry is kind and quiet. He's always been quite introverted, he prefers to be alone, and he thinks he could go days without seeing a single person, except for Beatrice. But somehow — and there's probably a psychological explanation for this, one that he's uninterested in finding out — he makes up for it in the bedroom. He doesn't know why, but when he's with someone intimately, he just becomes... dominant. He's aware that his tastes aren't vanilla, like many of his past sexual partners had assumed, as spanking, bondage, toys, edging, and overstimulation are all some of his favorite pastimes. And with the way she's teasing him right now, it's only pushing him further to the dominant threshold he typically keeps tucked away.

Pulling their conversation back up, he doesn't think much or read his message over before sending it.

fleetwoodlondon: If you wanted me to tell you how to touch your pretty little pussy, all you had to do is ask.

He sees the smirk that curls at her lips through the screen and he swallows, wishing he could taste them.

"Yeah? You wanna tell me what to do?" she asks breathily, wiggling a bit in her seat. His cock is already throbbing in his pants as he taps at the screen, eager to respond.

fleetwoodlondon: Spread your legs. Tease yourself.

It's not even 30 seconds before she's shifted onto her butt, knees to the sky as she opens her legs. Her underwear is still on, covering her modesty, but she uses gentle fingertips to trace over her mound and down to the crease of her thighs. He watches her shiver beneath her touch.

fleetwoodlondon: Move those pretty panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are for me.

"Fuck, 'm so wet for you," she moans, echoing the words from his message. She does as he requests, plucking the damp fabric from her center to reveal her glistening lips. Harry wants to verbally moan at how gorgeous she looks. "Can I touch myself, daddy? Please? Want it so bad— wanna be your good girl."

fleetwoodlondon: You are being good.

fleetwoodlondon: You can touch yourself, but only with your fingers.

She dives in almost instantly, fingertips ghosting over her clit as her head falls to the side, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure after waiting all day. She trails them down to her hole, where she's leaking steadily, and smears her arousal up to her clit, giving it a soft smack. She whimpers from the quick sting.

"Do you see how wet I get for you?"

fleetwoodlondon: Open yourself up. Pretend it's my fingers instead of yours.

She moans as she pushes a single finger inside, arching deeply from the sensation. With her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, she gasps as she nestles a second in.

"Not big enough," she whines, grinding her hips down against her fingers, "Can't— they're too small, daddy, need yours instead."

fleetwoodlondon: I'm sure you do, but I'm not there. So be good and keep fucking yourself open with your pathetic little fingers. I want to watch you cum and lick it all up.

Harry can barely take it, watching her take her fingers knuckle-deep as she falls apart on screen from things he commanded her to do. He can see her thighs beginning to tense, her jaw slack as whimpers fall from her lips, and he wants nothing more than to finish with her. Quickly, he frees his cock from his sweats. So much pre-cum is leaking from the tip that he's almost embarrassed by it — he doesn't need any extra lubrication, so he wraps his fist around the head, bringing the substance down to the base of his length. He groans lowly and sets his phone up on the coffee table, leaning it against a box of tissues so he can use his other hand to pull at his sorely full balls.

"Fuck, daddy, you're so filthy," she moans, fitting a third finger in. She gasps from the stretch and it makes his eyes roll back as he pumps himself, trying to match the beat of her own thrusts. "Are you— y'gonna cum with me? Please, I want it, wanna lick up every last bit of it—"

"Jesus fuck," he mutters to himself, pausing momentarily to squeeze his base. She normally makes him finish fast, but it's never been this quick before. He has to give himself a break before he bursts all over himself.

"I'm gonna cum," she bleats, almost as if it's a promise, "Fuck, it's coming, I'm gonna cum for you, daddy— shit, it's all for you—"

He watches with wide eyes as her pussy pulses around the trio of fingers deep inside of her, a slew of curses falling from her lips as she falls apart. It's so beautiful, even if he's not privy to seeing her facial expressions. Her whines and whimpers are music to his ears, and finally getting to watch her reach her peak is all the permission he needs to reach his.

When he does a few moments later, all he can imagine is her hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it quickly while she mouths at the tip to catch the warm spurts of cum. He feels himself, heavy and twitching and tensing beneath his grasp, involuntarily whispering out similar sentiments to hers: "it's all yours, fuck, it's yours, it's yours."

His eyes flicker open to see her sucking on her fingers, a smirk on her lips as she gags around them. Her mouth is drooly and messy with spit and Harry wants to fall over.

"Thank you, daddy," she breathes out, "And thank you for watching, cuties. I appreciate all the sweet tips. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm, eastern standard time."

In the blink of an eye, the screen is blank, she's gone, and Harry has cold cum resting on his stomach.

. . .

If Y/N's being honest, she's not sure what got into her last night.

She can't stop thinking about him — fleetwoodlondon — and how he became the dominant of her dreams. They didn't exchange any messages after she ended the stream, and she wonders if that made things worse. But he's all she can think about at work today as she pretends to work on a project for a minor client that Sam passed off to her this morning.

With a nervous swallow, she pulls her phone from her pocket. She keeps hoping that he'll message her first, but she's not entirely surprised when the only notifications she has are from her work calendar. Sighing, she brings up their private conversation, biting her lip at the last dirty text he'd sent her.

moan-a-lisa: hi

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going?

In an attempt to distract herself while she awaits his response, she redirects her focus to the project she’s working on. She can’t help glancing over at her phone every five seconds, wondering if maybe she took things too far last night and he doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. By the time an hour goes by and her stomach is growling with hunger, her spirits are crushed as she leaves her desk to head downstairs to the cafe for lunch.

She’s pouting over a panini and a blondie when her phone buzzes on the table. She thinks her mind is playing tricks on her when she sees his username, only to realize she actually had an unread message from him.

fleetwoodlondon: Boring, I’ve just been working all day. Was just thinking about you actually.

With raised eyebrows, Y/N’s curiosity is peaked. She assumes he’s referring to her the stream — to be fair, it had been incredibly hot for her, too, so she fully understands if that’s all he associates her with. (Even if she has to force herself to suppress any disappointment seeping from within.)

moan-a-lisa: yeah? what were u thinking about?

fleetwoodlondon: I picked up a book about graphic design and iconic advertising. It’s really interesting and I was thinking you might enjoy it.

fleetwoodlondon: Sorry. That’s probably the dorkiest message you’ve ever received on here.

Y/N doesn’t think she’s grinned this wide in weeks.

. . .

Y/N and Harry continue to text every day after that.

It’s weird. She’s never had this close of a relationship with a viewer before, and Harry has never found himself caring about someone he barely knows like this before. They don’t even know each other’s names and yet, they’ve been talking for a month, revealing tidbits of their lives that their closest loved ones don’t even know. In a sense, the consistent presence of the other on the phone is the most comforting thing either one has ever experienced.

Harry knows about her siblings, the time she broke her arm on a swing when she was five, and when she got so drunk in college she threw up in her friend’s lap. Y/N knows that he moved from London for graduate school, he has a cat named Beatrice that he adores (and feeds right before tuning into her stream every evening), and watches Titanic when he’s had a bad day.

So, he doesn’t really get why he’s so nervous to talk to her on the phone tonight.

It had started as a joke — they’d been messaging earlier today, making fun of the fact that they felt like teenagers the way they were glued to their phones to talk to each other. Y/N had brought up wanting to hear his voice so she could finally hear his accent. Harry noted that he didn’t even know her name. And so, they made plans to talk on the phone at 5:30 this evening.

He’s so anxious he feels like he might puke. As he watches the time slowly tick by, he grips his phone in his hand, waiting for it to start buzzing with an incoming call. He wonders if she feels nervous, too, or if this is no big deal for her. He feels silly for wondering if his infatuation has developed into a full blown crush, but he doesn’t think he can help it. He really, truly thinks he’s fallen for her just based off of chatting with her every day.

Beatrice feels the tension radiating off of Harry’s body so she wiggles herself into his lap, nuzzling her head against his thigh. He welcomes her comfort, giving her gentle pets at the clock finally ticks to 5:30. His phone begins to vibrate promptly.

He takes a long, deep breath.

And then he clicks ‘answer.’

And he hears the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard before.

part two

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4sturns · 5 months

Text

BREAK THE INTERNET

camboy!chris s. x fem!viewer!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: being chris' top tipper and most loyal viewer, you're gifted with a private one on one cyber call with your favorite camboy.

warnings: cyber sex, sub!chris (reader tells him what to do), whining and whimpering, use of vibrator, praise kink (4sturns knows what praise is ????? woah ...), orgasm denial, use of petnames (mamas, baby, etc.), not proofread!

wc: 1.822

a/n: sat there thinking about how kinky i am compared to others in the fandom and suddenly had the great idea of writing for camboy!chris because god he'd be such a pretty camboy .. thank you for 500 followers too this is for you guys ❤️‍🩹 also brace yourselves because this is probably the longest fic i have ever written in all my years of writing

you're sat at your desk, your laptop propped up at an angle which conceals your face, but shows off your breasts which are clad in a red lacy bra.

there's music playing lowly on a speaker somewhere on the other side of the room, something you put on to calm down your nerves.

you bounce your leg, waiting anxiously as you wait for chris' call notification to pop up on your screen.

you've been a viewer of chris' for a while. he was the first camboy you'd ever encountered and he was certainly your favorite. something about him and how he always gives in to his tippers made you cash in on his streams. he was just so good, so obedient, and so pretty.

unbeknownst to you, you had somehow became his top tipper in the span of a couple months. what you expected to be a cumulative amount of fifty dollars, maybe sixty, turned out to be close to ten times the price you assumed you had tipped him.

even with the initial shock, you still couldn't blame yourself for giving him so much money. he was just so good for you, giving you exactly what you wanted and asked of him every single time.

a sudden and loud tone rings from your laptop speakers making you jump from the unexpected noise. the screen flashes with chris' name and his provocative profile picture, your heart rate picking up at the sight. a shaky hand reaches up to the track pad to accept the call, not before a nervous breath leaves your body.

the call zooms in to show you a full view of chris' camera. his face is out of view, similar to you, but he's sporting a white tank top and plaid pajama pants in comparison to your red bra and black silk shorts.

through your little square screen in the corner, you can visibly see your chest heaving. your mouth feels dry, heart pounding uncontrollably. normally you'd feel fine, but that was when it was chris talking to his entire audience, not just you individually.

"hey mamas," chris greets you, he sounds just as breathless as you. "god, you look so good in that set."

you crack a faint smile although he can't see it. a hand goes up to play with the necklace around your neck, relieving some tension as you work up a response.

"not too bad yourself, chris." you can see him shift around, a muffled moan piercing through your speakers gains your attention.

"already worked up? is it because of my boobs on your screen or because you like my voice a little too much, baby?" you're almost shocked at your own words, you were just shaking a moment ago and now you're taunting the very guy you'd get off to almost nightly for the past three months.

"fuck, if you don't stop teasing me i might just cum in my pants." chris moves his camera back to reveal his face. you're stunned for a second, taking in his beauty. it's not the first time you've seen his face, but you swear he gets prettier every day.

based on chris' chuckle, you're sure he saw the way your chest spiked up with the silent gasp you let out when he showed his face.

"tell me what to do, mamas. you're in control of me tonight." his words are spoken quietly, but god do they do a number on you.

"can you— can you touch yourself, for me?" you stutter slightly. you're so used to giving him commands through his chat that giving him a verbal command one on one makes you lightheaded.

without a word, chris' hand inches towards the bulge in his pants. he starts palming himself through his pants as small whimpers leave his mouth. you're sitting back in your chair, your face from the nose down is now visible on the screen. your eyes are fixed to the screen as your entire body starts to heat up.

"can i take off my shirt? please, ma." he's still palming himself, but he stares right into the camera. you can't bring yourself to speak, so you nod your head, praying he gets the memo despite how little of your face is actually showing.

thankfully he does, his free hand gripping the bottom of his top before swiftly removing the garment. his soft, long hair bounces back into place, covering part of his eyes in a way that makes him look like an angel. a sinful angel.

suddenly, chris stops palming himself, his hand going to dip past the waistband of his pants. he quickly whips out his dick before hissing at the cold air which hits his tip.

you're in awe, no matter how many times you've seen his dick before, it'll never quite compare to how good it looks in this moment. but once the feeling subsides, you quickly remember something.

"i never told you you could take your dick out of your pants, did i?" you're now leaning forward, as if challenging chris through the screen. there's no battle however, as panic quickly flashes through chris' features.

his mouth springs open as floods of apologies and excuses leave his mouth, although you're not quite picking up what he's saying. your eyes are piercing your laptop screen as you notice his tip leaking a clear liquid. you watch as his entire cock twitches when you let out a low chuckle.

"i'm sorry, please, i'm a good boy! i swear i'm a good boy." chris pleads with you, causing a wave of heat to overtake your body. you say nothing as he continues to ramble. but you know you can't keep him waiting, you'd be torturing yourself more than him.

"show me how good you are and stroke yourself for me, hmm?" chris complies almost instantly, his head nodding frantically as he wraps a hand around his hard cock. whimpers and high pitched whines fill up your speakers as you instruct him to stroke himself faster. but just that isn't enough for you.

"can you do something for me, baby?" chris' eyes open, an eager smile crosses his face as he momentarily pauses his movements.

"anything for you, mamas." his hair flops around as he nods his head.

"grab that little black vibrator, the one you know i like." you remember the first time you stumbled onto chris' live broadcast. you remember how tightly he was gripping the base of his cock as he held a vibrator right under his angry, red tip. you remember how loud his whimpers were, how much he was begging for release. the image of his cum painting his stomach white as the buzzing continues in the back is something that will never fail to make you moan.

chris comes back into frame holding the toy, a devious smile makes it way onto your face. it's caught on your camera and you can tell chris knows your intentions aren't pure from the way he visibly gulps. regardless, he sits back down infront of his screen before positioning himself to face you again.

"use it on yourself, the same way you always do." the words leave your mouth sounding more like a command than you'd like, although it really is a command.

chris takes your words seriously as he quickly fumbled with the buttons on the little toy to turn it on. a breathy moan leaves his mouth as he finally lowers it down to circle around his tip. the sight is breathtaking. chris' head tipped back as his hand grips at the base of his cock so tightly you're surprised it's not turning a shade of purple. the vibrator soon finds home right under his tip, buzzing away at his sweet spot.

you bite your bottom lip to conceal your moans, a hand sneakily sliding into your silk bottoms as you feel your soaked folds. your fingers move quickly to collect your arousal before dipping into your throbbing cunt. a whine escapes your lips right as chris lets out a rather loud groan.

you know he's close, but you can't let him go yet. not before you do.

"you're such a good boy for me, so good." you lean back in your chair, propping a leg up on the table to get a better angle, maximizing your own pleasure.

chris' eyes flicker open to take a quick peak at his laptop screen. he nearly cums at the sight. your face is now fully in frame, except it's twisted in pleasure. your fingers moved fast, plunging in and out of your soaked cunt as strings of profanity leave your puffy lips. he thought your voice was pretty, but he never expected the voice to belong to a goddess like you.

"fuck, ma. i'm so close," your eyes open to watch chris' face as he turns the intensity of the vibrator up a level. his eyes are shut tight, but you can still see the tears pricking at his eyes as the pleasure builds up.

"hold it for me, baby. be my good boy and wait for me." an anguished cry leaves chris' throat, though he obeys you and holds himself back from his release.

on your end, you're working hard to reach your own release. you've long discarded your bottoms, having thrown them to the floor somewhere behind you. one hand works diligently to draw circles on your clit, while the other drills into your pussy relentlessly.

"i can't, please i need to come so badly. i've been a good boy, right? please, mamas. i need it." chris is in tears by now, the muscles in his stomach flexing with how much force he has put in so far to control himself for you.

you can feel yourself approaching your own climax, strained moans are pulled from your body as you find the energy in you to speak.

"go ahead, baby. paint your stomach white for me like the good boy you are." through your laptop speakers, you can hear chris' loud pants and whimpers as his orgasm washes over him, a cry of your name leaving his lips in such an erotic moan that you're sent over the edge.

your legs tremble and shake as you let your orgasm rip through your body. your body feels like it's on fire, little surges of electricity rage through your body even after the buzz of your orgasm fades.

you peer over at your laptop screen to see chris has discarded the vibrator, though his hand is still working to give his dick a few final strokes before going limp. his stomach is coated in thick ropes of cum, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"did i do good for you, mamas?" chris asks, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly spent from all his whining.

"you did so good for me, such a good boy. you're my baby boy."

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

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whorechives · 5 months

Text

satoru has an onlyfans?? well, he is pretty, why not capitalize on it?? „ ♡ “ he's always been a bit of an attention whore. — satoru gojo x dom!reader.

cw ,, [i don't know how OF works cuz i've never used it, so this may not be entirely accurate to the site.] edging. decided to take a break mid post. part two coming in the future. this is so bad ugh

“it'll start soon, so face the camera, satoru.” you purr, gently turning his face to the webcam atop his main monitor. bringing that hand down with the free one, you spread gojo's thighs, exposing his already half-hard cock covered only a pair of lacy underwear.

scrolling through the posts, you felt a mix of emotions stirring within you—anger, jealousy, betrayal—but every time one of satoru's provocative (damn near nude) pictures, or videos of him touching/using toys on himself, you couldn't help admiring your husband's beauty.

you knew gojo was photogenic, but damn.

it was hard to stay mad at him. it's his body. satoru is very pretty as well, why not capitalize on it? that would explain why his onlyfans was so expensive. one hundred dollars a month? and people actually pay for it? pretty privilege at it's finest. or maybe the subscribers are just down deplorable. you couldn't blame them, honestly. this filled you with a sense of pride, knowing that you were above them—having satoru all to yoursel–

wait.

thinking back on it, in nary a single post did satoru mention that he was in a relationship—let alone married. you tapped your fingers on the countertop in veiled anger. that anger almost came unveiled as gojo sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world (as usual). despite your feelings being well hidden, he noticed right away, not that it was surprising to you.

“i don't know what you're upset about, or if it has anything to do with me, but can i make it up to you?”

the corner of your mouth twitched at your husband's words—threatening a smirk, but you somehow forced it into a soft smile. “i'd appreciate that.”

satoru squirmed a bit on your lap. this sudden possessiveness and pettiness you seemed to have gained was a bit worrying, but the anticipation of what you might do aroused him more than anything.

the second monitor's screen lit up from standby mode, indicating that the stream had started. within seconds, the chat was flooded with comments, most of them asking about satoru's ‘guest’. “you gonna answer them, ‘toru?” you ask, your fingers playing at the man's inner thigh, drawing a quiet whimper from him. you chuckled softly at this. “did you all know? this little attention whore is married. not for a long time, but still married nonetheless.”

“honey, please..” gojo whispered almost inaudibly.

“don't worry, he'll continue being a camslut for you all.” you continue, taking hold of satoru's now fully erect cock through his lingerie. it twitched lightly in your hand, from the touch or your harsh words, you honestly didn't know. “but for today, i'm going do what you all could never.”

notathrowaway379 : bro stfu fraud ass

黄花闺女 : am i being cucked rn? kinda liking this

cxltlead3r [top fan ★] tipped $50! : edge him pls <3

seeing the last comment onscreen, you smirked slightly. for some reason, you felt like you had an idea of who the tipper was. “oh, i was just thinking about that. great minds really do think alike, huh? thanks for the donation, by the way.” you slowly pumped satoru's dick, holding him in place with your other arm. you held back a laugh as he pathetically tried bucking his hips up into your hand, only for it to be in vain.

gojo whined softly in defeat—the poor man couldn't help moving his hips. he couldn't get enough of your touch and being watched by god knows how many people somehow made him feel more sensitive under your treatment. “wai.. the underw—”

“i want you to make a mess of these pretty panties for me. not for your fans. for me.” you growl, working gojo's cock faster. his back arched slightly against you as he let out a surprised gasp at the sudden increase in pace. satoru probably didn't realize it, but he was leaking through the panties already. it didn't really matter if they got ruined, anyway—you could always buy him a new set. as you continued, your voice took on a gentler tone. “but not until i say so, doll. be a good boy and hold out for me, okay?” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head. again, satoru cried out quietly as he struggled under your hold.

user474367 : he'd look better in my lap fr

ur_mum69 : ngl im more jealous of gojo here

🎐 ! : @eccedentesiast-sapphic , @gaynesspersonified , @ksoj , @sinfuldxlight , @theirbf , @supernova07 , @5starr-staciii , @ambro-season , @sensivs , @demovamp ✦

interested in a certain whore? sign here to be notified of new releases!

#✦. addition from king.#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sub jjk #dom!reader #top!reader #sub character #top male reader #dom male reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut

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moonlightsdream · 7 months

Text

The bad date, the bad sport, the bad citizen, The bad tipper!

SEINFELD (1989–1998) — 8.04 | the little kicks

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jeonlicious · 1 year

Text

UNHOLY ; jeongguk

pairing: jeongguk x camgirl!reader

synopsis: ‘my pretty angel you sound so sweet for me.’

genre: smut

warnings: nipple piercings, overstimulation

word count: 750

author’s note: i had this in my drafts for FOREVER. anyways, i finally managed to finish this so if the end is bad im sorry. btw TYSM FOR 505 FOLLOWERS ILYSM I HOPE YOU HAVE/HAD A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!! english is not my first language.

series masterlist | part two

outfit? done.

hair? done.

sex toys? prepared.

camera? set.

Okay, let’s go. You said to yourself before starting the live stream, immediately people started joining, most of them were old perverts and some other people but there was a young man who always caught your attention.

His username was Jeon97 and lately he's been the best tipper. Sending you hundreds of dollars every time you started streaming, and he always left you a sweet massage like ‘you look so beautiful baby.’ or ‘my pretty angel you sound so sweet for me’

Sometimes you wish he was the only one watching so you could give him more of what you have to offer. But now you have to focus on your fans whoe were desparately waiting for you.

“Hey my loves, I missed you!” You cheered and your chat was filled with praises and heart emojis. Your eyes searched for the familiar name but they couldn't see it. He never missed your streams, maybe he was busy? A little disappointed you started to interact with the people in the chat.

You felt pleased with the compliments you got, especially on your outfit. You were wearing the new victorias secret valentines set which you received in your mail not so long ago. As much as you were surprised you also were a little scared, the thought that one of your fans knows where you live left an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

There were a lot of requests and suggestions for what you could do. But you felt a little tired so you chose one of your favorites. Your beloved vibrator. That small thing had so much energy that it had you cumming in seconds leaving you sensitive and overstimulated.

Hmm, how would Gukkies fingers feel li- No! Y/n focus!

While you were interacting with your fans and responding to the sweet praises Jeongguk’s phone rang with the familiar notification, if he wasn’t showering right now he would immediately open the app to see what you're up to. He quickly got out of the shower and dried himself with a towel.

He didn't bother to put on any clothes since they would be off in seconds anyway. When he came to his bedroom he opened the top shelf of his nightstand at took out the lube, he splattered a fat amount on his hand and started to pump himself, his other hand went to his laptop and turned on the live stream as quickly as possible.

When he saw you, in the set he sent you he almost came right there. You look so pretty in it, so fuckable, your pretty tits on display, the little silver bars decorating your erected nipples. Oh, how he wished he could suck on them, make you feel so so good, hear your whiny voice begging for him.

His hands pumped his cock while he looked at you. Your pretty eyes, lips, tits. Oh how he loved them, he always wished he could just bury his face in them and never come back for air.

“Oh fuck! Ah! Ah! Feels so good.”

His eyes focused on the way your pussy clenched around the pink bullet. Making you so fucking wet. Wet enough for him to slide his cock into you and fuck you till the sunrise.

• user Jeon97 sent 200 dollars!

“Aww, thank you Jeon,” You whined for the camera teasing your clit more. Jeongguks hand gripped his cock tightly as he fucked his fist. Your moans got louder as your pinched your nipples, revealing them to your fans.

Jeongguk threw his head back, whining and moaning your name. Only if you could hear him, take care of him, let him fuck you.

Soon he came, hard.

His stomach was covered in the sticky liquid, his abs glistening with sweat. He was breathless, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes fucked out but still. He had his eyes on you.

The whole time you were cumming he didn't dare to take them off of you, taking in the beautiful sight.

“That’s it for today my loves! See you next time!” You blew a kiss to the camera and turned off the stream. Jungkook lay in his bed staring at the ceiling when suddenly he heard the notification again. Another stream? No. Maybe a photo!

He quickly went for his laptop and opened the app, he expected everything but not this.

• SweetAngel sent a message!

‘thank you for being my supporter! here’s a little something ;)’

(open attachment)

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elsweetheart · 1 year

Note

Random…but I have this stupid scenario with Dealer Ellie having reader count all her money…lots and lots of money. reader in her undies looking all cute and confident heheheh or something idk why it’s so specific but I’m thinking about it after listening to “the morning” by the weeknd

oh my …… god …… i’m obsessed with this

countin’ up

🎀 reader being hot, ellie bein a sexy dealer, mentions of drugs and money

you’re a little high yourself, just a smidge from taking a few tokes off ellie’s joint on the walk home — enough for you to feel warm and hazy and confident in ellie’s dorm. the two of you had been to a party that night, and it was a great business night for ellie, coming home with her black backpack practically empty of weed— instead filled with hundreds of notes. not only were people clumsy, overpaying her or accidentally handing over more money than they meant to — but people round those sides were huge tippers, just thrilled to have a big bad dealer show up at daddies pool house. she’d been victorious, and you couldn’t help but grin watching it all unfold.

you’d pulled off the tight dress as soon as you’d made it back to her dorm, warm from the humid summer air outside and wanting to just be comfortable. ellie wolf whistled, distracted by her phone ringing— one of her usual clients calling in to make orders for him and his friends. you tipped the contents of the bag out on the bed, the strong stench of cannabis falling out with all the paper bills. “damn.” you breathed out with a grin, taking a handful of the money and letting it slide out your palm falling into your lap where you’d sat on the bed. the money smelled like weed when you sniffed it and you giggled, envisioning yourself sheepishly handing it over to a shop clerk, their brow lifting at the smell. oops.

you got comfortable, laying down on your elbow on your side and pushing some money to the side, starting to count them up. you’d always count up for ellie, as she told you that she repeatedly would fuck it up. your stomach warmed at the thought of being helpful to her, glancing up to see her writing down her clients order in her notebook sat at her desk. “uh—huh. nah, we don’t sell that one anymore. instead i can offer you…” she opens her drawer, fumbling around with her stock. you smiled, turning back to counting the money setting them in neat piles.

she got off the phone, standing up with a stretch as you continued counting before turning to look at you, eyes scanning over your position and your lack of clothes. “now isn’t this a sight for sore eyes.” she smirked, stepping towards the bed and placing her hand on your thigh, settling herself to sit down on it. you giggled, eyes focused on neatening one of the makeshift piles you’d made. “how many dealers do you know that can say they have a hot girl in her underwear counting money on their bed. that’s like… pimp level shit, man.” she grinned, taking in the scene before her.

“i don’t know any other dealers. only have eyes for one.” you shrugged, finishing up counting. “510 dollars.” you told her, still in disbelief at the sheer quantity from one nights sales. you thought it was risky for ellie to show up with her backpack stuffed to the brim with weed, heavy and pungent — but clearly she knew this would be a jackpot.

“damn.” ellie’s eyebrows jumped before she began sorting the piles herself. “this is the suppliers cut.” she spoke mainly to herself, separating two piles away from the rest. “this is your cut.” she pushed a few piles towards you casually, making you laugh.

“my cut? i don’t work for you, els it’s your money.” you pushed yourself to sit up slightly and didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to your tits in your lacy bra at the movement.

“nah, come on. you’re my girl. you get the money.” she shrugged you off casually, making you swell and dampen slightly in your underwear.

“really?” you fluttered your lashes up at her and she nodded, starting to pick up her money to transfer it to her desk.

“all yours, babe.”

#anon #dealer!ellie #ellie williams prompt #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams drabble

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rip-quizilla · 11 months

Text

The Naughty Wench

Summary: You work as a barmaid at the raunchiest booth at the Renaissance Faire, and Eddie purchases a beer from you. He gets a little more than a "huzzah for the tipper" when he throws a fiver in the jar labeled "Thank you, Mistress". (Read: you talk dirty to Eddie while you pour beer down his throat) Based on this Tik Tok posted by @joyful_aura: https://www.tiktok.com/@joyful_aura/video/7244964514561543470

Word Count: 4.7k

Content Warnings: light degradation, dirty talk, sexual themes

Working the faire circuit was in one word… an experience.

Just last week you had been in Texas at Scarborough Faire, where it had been hot as balls underneath your layers of linen, lace and leather. The earlier months hadn’t been too bad, but there was one thing you’d learned about the southern states in your years of renaissance faire experience- when summer hits in the south, it hits hard. The moment you’d driven your van past the Indiana state line, you could have sworn the temperature dropped ten degrees on the spot.

Now here you were- all trussed up in your wench getup, tits pushed up high enough that they rested like two fleshy pillows right below your collarbones. The corset you’d chosen today wasn’t your most comfortable, but you looked damn good in it- milk chocolate brown with pale gold ribbons that laced up the front. The straps that ran over your shoulders provided some extra support, which you were grateful for with all of the movement your job required. Your skirts today were a warm shade of mustard yellow with a few mismatched patches sewn over holes and stains that had refused to come out over the years. Short sleeved blouses were a must, unless you wanted to pass out from heat stroke or have beer-soaked sleeves clinging to your forearms. Today yours was a pale cream color, with little puffed cap sleeves to cover your shoulders and a neckline that plunged below your corset, so the girls were front and center, ready to earn plenty of “huzzah for the tipper!”s.

Today was Sunday, and since this faire was weekends only, Sundays were basically Fridays as far as faire folk were concerned. As was tradition, you would all be going out for libations once the day was done, followed by a blissful night of sleeping late in your Volkswagen Westfalia.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you’d quit your job and joined the faire circuit, but every day you got to meet new people, play dress-up, and speak in a funny accent- which accent? You switched it up day to day. And the fact that you got paid to do that made it even better.

You loved your little renfaire life.

You stood with your hands on your hips inside the little wooden booth that served as your place of work for the next month’s worth of weekends. Every plastic cup was stacked in place, you had a fresh cleaning rag stuck into your apron, and patrons were already beginning to file into the fairgrounds. A pleasant breeze brought a smile to your face.

“Morning, love!” You turned to see your fellow barmaid, Ingrid, wiping her hands on her own apron after wringing out her own rag into a small bucket of soapy water. Her outfit today was- like most days- the polar opposite of yours. She looked more like a pirate wench while your color palette was more akin to what one might picture in a countryside tavern. Burgundy skirts and off-white petticoats swished around her black lace-up boots, and her black leather waist cincher showcased the smallest part of Ingrid’s middle. You gasped, acting scandalized by the bits of black lace from her bra that peeked over the neckline of her red blouse.

“Ingrid, what kind of place do you think we’re running here?” you tutted, smiling cheekily all the while. “This is a respectable establishment! People might start thinking we sell more than just the drinks here, you know.”

Ingrid cackled, hopping up to sit on the wooden counter behind her. “My dear, I have absolutely no clue what you could be talking about.” She shrugged, smirking behind a shared secret. “We do sell more than just the drinks.” You both giggled knowingly, continuing to complete all of the morning to-do’s around the bar.

Ingrid was right- drinks weren’t the only thing your bar was known for.

There were plenty of booths around the faire where patrons could purchase a drink, but only one where the barmaids would pour beer directly into their mouths while talking dirty to them- and The Naughty Wench just happened to be that booth.

Originally, the idea had been Ingrid’s- the two of you had been friends for a year now, meeting last year in this exact same spot at Indie Faire and working at what was then a run-of-the-mill beer booth. It was customary at any renaissance faire for bar wenches to proclaim “Huzzah for the tipper!” when presented with a tip of any kind, so neither of you was a stranger to putting on the theatrics when money was dropped into your tip jar. One day, however, Ingrid had put out not one, but two tip jars- one labeled ‘Thank You’, the other labeled ‘Thank You Mistress’. You had laughed at it at first. Then Ingrid started…changing the script.

A patron would chuckle to themselves, throwing a dollar into the Mistress jar, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing when Ingrid would smile and tell them they were “such a good boy.”

After a few more, she’d gotten even more creative. “Oh, you thought I only wanted money?” she would croon, holding the beer tauntingly out of their reach. “I want to hear you beg for it, say ‘please, mistress’,” When you’d heard it you’d been appalled, mouth opened wide in shock. You had already prepared yourself for the patron to yell in her face and demand their money back when you’d heard a shy, stuttering “P-please, mistress, can I have my beer?”

Throughout the day, Ingrid’s “Mistress” character only continued to amp up with every hour. At some point, you had joined in, repeating the sultry tones you’d been listening to Ingrid spout easily to strangers and even making up a few responses of your own.

“Only good boys get to drink at the faire, have you been a good boy?”

“You need to say please before you drink- good girl, you’re so very welcome.”

“Hands behind your back and open wide.”

Word about Ingrid’s sultry tipping strategy circulated quickly. Soon, more and more patrons were lining up at your booth ready to be degraded by pretty girls in tight corsets, and when you started pouring the beer into their mouths, tits pressed up higher on your chest while you leaned seductively over the bartop? People couldn’t get enough.

The success you’d both had with Ingrid’s brilliant idea had now landed you here- a booth that was dedicated to serving delicious beverages garnished with a splash of degradation.

Your first patron of the day- a young woman who looked ready to play a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream- stepped up to Ingrid, gazing up at her with a flutter of eyelashes as she ordered a can of beer and shyly dropped a one dollar bill into the jar labeled ‘Thank You, Mistress’. Ingrid smiled, asking “Do you know what that jar is for?” to which the fairy blushed and nodded, giggling.

“Mm-hm.”

Ingrid grinned flirtatiously, popped open the beer, and addressed the fairy, “Such tiny little hands you have, they’ll make my can look so huge…”

***

Eddie Munson was vibrating.

At least, he felt like he was. He could barely contain his enthusiasm as he looked around at every sword, every pair of elf ears, every corset- to his left, there was a booth selling handmade leather journals. To his right, a stage where a crowd had begun to gather to watch a group of bagpipe players. In front of him and behind him, a seemingly endless number of nerds who, like him, had found a place where being a weirdo was not mocked, not simply tolerated- but celebrated.

“I fucking love it here.” Eddie sighed.

Steve Harrington, whom Eddie was still a little astounded had been convinced to actually go to a renaissance faire, looked overwhelmed already. “I can’t believe there are this many grown adults who wanted to spend the last day of their weekend playing dress-up.”

“Playing dress-up and getting drunk.” Robin corrected. Unlike Harrington, she had thrown herself into the renfaire spirit completely, showing up in a tasteful pirate outfit that Eddie had a feeling was comprised mostly of oversized pieces she’d found in the men’s section of the thrift store, but she pulled it off. All she was missing were some real swords, which she had already announced she was on the hunt for today.

“I feel bad for people who are so out of touch with their inner child that they have to get drunk just to put on a costume.” Dustin said matter-of-factly, shooting Steve a judgemental look. Steve balked when he caught it, yapping at Dustin about growing up or the ridiculousness of how much quality costumes cost- something along those lines. Eddie wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking mental note of which booths he needed to come back to before they left; he knew if he ducked inside them now, he would blow all of his money on the first stall they saw, and he was determined to stretch his budget for the day as far as he could.

“Well I for one think we all look amazing, costume or no.” Robin said decisively. Eddie had to agree. He had spent weeks working on his own costume, digging through his and his friends’ closets to create an ensemble fit for a tiefling bard such as himself. He had fashioned himself a pair of red horns using one of Erica’s old headbands, toilet paper rolls, tin foil, paper mache and black paint. Now, they sat nestled securely among his brown mane of curls. The rest of his outfit had been easy- a blousy-looking shirt from Nancy’s closet that he’d rolled up around the elbows, one of Wayne’s old waistcoats from a suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since Eddie’s parents’ wedding, apparently, a pair of black pants that he’d tucked into his combat boots, and a plethora of accessories. Rings on every finger, every belt he owned slung over his waist or across his torso, one even looped twice around his thigh. Eddie had even gone the extra mile this morning and smudged some of Robin’s red lipstick (he was still amazed that Buckley owned lipstick) around his eyes as a nod to the fact that tieflings’ skin is normally red or blue. To finish off the look, he had even brought along his old acoustic guitar, which was slung over his back to mark him undeniably as a bard.

Eddie thought he looked pretty damn cool.

The rest of their party had also decked themselves out for the day, Robin with her pirate outfit, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will had done a fantastic job of transforming themselves into hobbits for the day. Max, Erica and El hadn’t been able to decide whether they wanted to dress as pirates or fairies- so they’d all chosen both. Now they looked happy as could be, skipping down the dirt path with fairy wings on their backs and plastic swords on their hips. That left Steve as the only normal-looking person in a sea of geeks.

Eddie chuckled to himself- for once in his life, Steve Harrington was the odd one out while Eddie Munson was effortlessly fitting in.

“First order of business is turkey legs.” Robin announced, eyes already darting in every direction in search of lunch as she wandered ahead.

Steve mumbled in agreement, along with something about finding something to drink so that he’ll survive the day. Just then, a trio of pretty young women in corsets caught his eye, immediately brightening his mood. He ran a hand through his hair, ready to say something undoubtedly Steve-y to them, when they beat him to the punch.

“Hi! Um, would you mind taking our picture?” One of them said, shoving a camera in his direction.

Steve, surprised but not altogether deterred, smiled and took the camera. “I’d be happy to, ladies.” However, he couldn’t hold back his shock when the girls all turned to the four teenage boys.

“You guys look like you came straight out of Lord of the Rings!” one of them exclaimed. “Best costumes I’ve seen all weekend, honestly.” The girls situated themselves between the blushing boys as they muttered different ‘thank you’s and complimented the girls’ outfits in turn.

Steve snapped the picture begrudgingly while Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders. “Looks like you’re losing your charm there, Harrington.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Steve in turn.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Dante’s Inferno.”

“How have you read Dante but not Tolkien?”

Their bickering was cut short by corset girl retrieving the camera from Steve, then giving Eddie a shy, “I like your horns.”

Eddie turned his full attention to her with a toothy grin. “‘Preciate it, sweetheart.”

The girls waved goodbye with a thank you, erupting into giggles as they walked away. Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What world did I accidentally cross into where Munson has game and I have none?”

Eddie cackled maniacally, hopping onto a nearby picnic table and swinging his guitar to his front, strumming it a couple of times with a flourish of his hand.

“You’re in my kingdom now, King Steve!” Eddie plucked the strings of his instrument jauntily, unable to contain his glee. “Here, it pays to be a freak.”

Strum-strum-strum.

Eddie threw a fist in the air. “Huzzah!”

To his surprise, his call was echoed by several patrons and vendors, erupting in a hearty “Huzzah!” from all around him.

Accepted. Celebrated. Eddie felt at home.

That’s when Robin came bounding up from behind him, two turkey legs in hand. “Okay, I know where we’re going next.” She sounded excited.

Steve took one of the turkey legs from her hand, eager to get something in his stomach. “And where is that, Robin?”

She grinned largely, immediately launching into a retelling of a conversation she had had with another patron while waiting in line for the turkey legs, going on several tangents about how surprised she was that the line was short, how the patron had been dressed like a viking and actually had viking tattoos all up and down his arm, how she wasn’t sure how accurate they were but they sure looked cool-

“Robin!” Steve interjected impatiently.

“Right! Sorry! Basically one of the bars has wenches that talk dirty if you give them a tip, and I want to see that in action.”

Steve and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. Steve, hilariously, started to check behind him for the kids as if they were still too young and innocent to be talking about such things even though they were all about to graduate high school already. To his relief, they had all wandered into a booth selling leather goods.

Eddie responded before Steve could. His lips had curled into a mischievous smile, “Buckley,” he crooned, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’m gonna need you to tell me more about these wenches.”

***

By noon, the line for your booth was easily at least ten people long and stayed that way no matter how many beers you’d poured. Luckily for the two of you, not every patron at the faire was seeking you out just for the bonus content. Most of them just wanted a drink, which you couldn’t fault them for. After all, nothing went with a summer day quite like a cold, bubbly beverage.

“Hey,” Ingrid’s voice caught your attention as you took a brief moment to wipe down the drain under the tap while the line had gone briefly shorter. “Remember that conversation we had where I called you out on having a type?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yes, I think I do. Why?”

“Tell me what that type was again?”

You sighed, tucking your rag back into your apron and patting your hands dry at your sides. “Let’s see, I think I remember you said long hair was involved-”

“Long dark hair, specifically.”

“-long dark hair, right.” you remedied. You busied yourself with fixing the next patrons’ drink orders as the discussion proceeded. “Tattoos were mentioned, and I think you said something about makeup?”

“You always get all swoony around men wearing eyeliner or some kind of eye makeup. Always. Without fail.”

“Yeah, yeah okay…” you rolled your eyes. She was right, but you hated that you were apparently so obvious about it.

“I would like to make an educated guess about another thing I think belongs on that list.” Finally turning to face Ingrid, you cocked your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, I’ll bite- what else do you think belongs on that list?”

Ingrid grinned, looking pointedly at something over your shoulder. “I think you’re into guys who play guitar.”

You blanched- damn. That had been true since high school, how did she-

You spun around to see whatever Ingrid was focused on behind you, and felt your knees get weak when you found it. There was a man- in his twenties, from the looks of it- dressed as a tiefling bard with a guitar slung over his shoulder. It was true, from looks alone he checked all of your boxes. The long curly hair, the red makeup around his eyes, the tattoos that showed on his forearms…

“You okay over there, or did my business partner go brain dead for a second?” You heard Ingrid’s smirk before you saw it. She laughed at you good-naturedly when you faintly swatted at her with your cleaning rag. “It looks like they’re headed this way, you take him and I’ll take his blonde pirate friend.”

You took another look at the man- trying not to be obvious about the fact that you were looking- and noticed this time that he was traveling with two others: the aforementioned blonde pirate and a normal-looking guy who, admittedly, had very nice hair. They did seem to be headed your way; you quickly took a moment to turn around and top off the canteen that hung from the leather belt at your waist with some cold water. You quickly took a sip before turning around to face the counter, and when you did, there he was.

“Hi, uh-” his eyes were downcast, hands digging into his pockets for cash. “-can you break a twenty?” Pulling a crumpled bill from a money clip, his gaze met yours under an apologetic brow. Big brown eyes, framed with blood-red smudges- he pulled it off. Tremendously.

You didn’t have to force your service industry smile- it came naturally for him. “With pleasure, noble bard.” You propped your forearms on the wooden bartop, hoping your cleavage was looking particularly stunning at the angle from which he was gazing up at you. “And what sort of beverage might you be craving on this fine day?”

“That’s right, wrap your lips around my tip and drink me down, beautiful-”

Before he could answer, the two of you were both more than a little distracted by Ingrid’s filthy monologue. She held a freshly opened can of beer to the blonde pirate girl’s lips, and you were very impressed with how easily the girl was able to obey the instructions that Ingrid gave every customer who tossed a tip into the Mistress jar- hands behind your back, mouth open, chin up, eyes on me. You and the dark-haired tiefling were both entranced by the sight before you: Ingrid, with the endless stream of dirty words that tumbled from her mouth as she poured bubbly, golden brew down the throat of the tall blonde pirate.

“-keep that pretty mouth open you little minx, and look up at me as i finish down your throat. Yes, that’s a good girl, and swallow.” Ingrid pulled the can away from her lips with a smile, gazing proudly down at the pirate who sputtered out a soft cough after breathing down some much-needed oxygen. “Good job, darling.” Ingrid crooned.

The regularly-dressed guy standing behind her stared with wide eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Oh…my god, Robin!” he guffawed.

“I’ll.. aha, um-” You refocused your attention to the bard standing before you, a natural blush now creeping into his cheeks beneath the red makeup on his temples. “-I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He nodded to his friend- Robin, apparently.

You smiled knowingly, taking the twenty from his hands and ignoring the rush you felt when your fingertips brushed his. You made his change, handing him a few fives and ones before giving the Mistress jar a gentle tap. You finished opening his beer just in time to see him toss a five into the jar- a generous tip, since the beer only cost $3.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him appreciatively. “Huzzah for the tipper.” you purred, opting to make the phrase just for him instead of yelling it obnoxiously for all to hear. After all, you were about to be plenty obnoxious already.

You nodded flirtatiously to direct his attention above you. “See those shackles up there, love?”

His eyes, shining with anticipation and the best kind of nerves, flicked up to what you were referring to- dangling from the wood above the bartop were a pair of metal handles that hung by black-painted chains. They were similar to an actual shackle, but it was obvious that they were there to hold, not imprison. The bard looked back down to you, returning your flirting gaze.

“I do.” he smirked.

You narrowed your eyes on him playfully. “I’m going to need you to reach up and take hold of them-” He did as he was told, and you admired how his blousy sleeves fell further down to his biceps, showcasing the way his ink stretched over lean muscles. “-oh good boy, you look so good stretched out for me like that. Hold tight now, darling.”

You had to hold back a chuckle at how quickly his flirty eye contact and smirk turned to a pure deer-in-the-headlights expression when you’d called him a good boy. You had an inkling that this guy wasn’t used to being told what to do in this particular way.

Leaning forward until your cleavage was practically up against his nose, you nodded at him sweetly. “Open that pretty pink mouth for me darling- yes, that’s right, lips around my hole and suck-” Once the can was to his lips, you began pouring a steady stream down his throat. His big doe eyes didn’t know where to look, torn between your eyes and your tits that looked just about ready to pop out of your corset. The rest of the words that tumbled from your mouth were less spoken and more so moaned while you gazed down at this gorgeous little tiefling who- for the next few moments- was completely at your mercy.

“-take it, yes, good boy, take me deep into your throat as you look up at me with those pretty brown eyes. Oh my goodness, you’re so obedient! I love it when a big strong man lets himself be this pretty and stretched out for me as he suckles on my little hole. No, don’t look away, my eyes are up here you wretched little thing- yes, that’s right, oh I only wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make when you take me down deep like this. Yes, you’re going to finish me, aren’t you? Oh yes, you’re going to finish me using that dirty little mouth-” Nearing the end of the can, you poured the last drop down his throat. “-yes, oh that’s a good boy, swallow every drop of me, good job love.”

He sputtered a final swallow, red-faced and breathing deep after chugging an entire can of beer. His eyes were still wide, but now there was also the way he looked at you- like he would do pretty much anything you ever told him to do at the drop of a hat.

Letting go of the shackles above your head, he managed to catch his breath before checking behind him to make sure he didn’t have a long line of waiting customers. No line had formed, but his blush had deepened when he saw his friends both watching him with smirks that said they were never going to let him live this down.

“Shit,” he chuckled looking up at you, his personality taking on a slightly more devil-may-care sort of attitude now. “I-uh- I think I blacked out, you might have to say all that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.”

You laughed, easily shirking the domineering attitude that you exuded for the job and relaxing into what felt natural- soft, sweet, and flirty- with this guy, at least. “Tell you what,” you said, coyly. You weren’t normally one to invite strangers out for drinks, but Ingrid had been right about one thing- this guy was definitely your type. “When the faire closes today, I’ll be at a bar called The Honeybee about ten minutes from here. If I happen to see you there,” you shrugged, and you didn’t miss how his eyes immediately flicked down to your cleavage as the motion made you bounce. “-then we can say all kinds of things to each other.”

The facial expression on the bard changed in an instant, his expression shifting from innocent and eager to knowing and darkly tempting. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “Are you always as demanding as you were just now, or was that just an act?”

You knew what he was asking, and part of you wanted to tell him that he’ll have to show up at The Honeybee if he wants to find out, but something in you also wanted him to know the answer to that question- wanted him to know so many things about you it made your head spin.

“I can go either way and have a great time regardless.” you replied, smiling sweet as a spoonful of honey, and the devilish grin that he gave you in return took the breath from your lungs.

“Perfect.” he practically growled, “What’s your name?”

You told him, and the way he repeated it on his lips had you pressing your thighs tightly together. “And your name is?”

“Eddie.” he smiled.

You grinned in return. “Eddie.” you repeated. His name tasted like whiskey and cinnamon on your tongue. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

To your surprise, Eddie laughed raucously, hopping back a few paces. “Oh, on the contrary, fair barmaid!” With a flourish, he swung his guitar from his back to his front, strumming a few chords in rapid succession and plucking them in a melody that showed a level of skill that you hadn’t been expecting. After a moment of music, he stopped short and looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mark my words, my love- you’ll see me again before tonight and you will- without a doubt- hear me before you see me.”

You let out a surprised laugh, fingers flying up to your mouth to block an obnoxious guffaw from escaping your lips. That only spurred Eddie on more. He made a sort of swatting motion with his hand, gesturing toward your own hand at your mouth. “Away, thou evil hand! How dare ye venture to hide the sweetest of smiles that does bloom on a flower such as this?” He plucked away at his instrument dramatically, as if doing so were a declaration of war. You couldn’t help but humor him, grabbing the offending hand with your other one and firmly clasping both in your lap.

Eddie smiled, still strumming his guitar. “Aye, and stay away! For there are far better things for pretty hands to do than hide even prettier faces.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down as he began to walk away with his friends.

Your jaw dropped as you let out a good natured scoff. “And what would the noble bard suggest I do with my pretty hands?” you knew that you practically yelled it, and it caused a few other guests to glance your way questioningly; you didn’t care, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing you’d said today.

Eddie’s cackle rang out through the air like electricity during a storm, and your heart did a little backflip when he spun around once before facing you one last time before he was out of your line of sight. “Oh, my lady-” he called, smiling unabashedly, “-I humbly suggest you find the biggest can you have, think of me-” and then the motherfucker winked, “-and use your imagination.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #renaissance faire #naughty wench #rip-quizilla

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