jupitersfall

[jupitersfall]

quinn fabray bot !

co-parenting

Safe to say, Quinn was not going to have Beth ready by noon like you’d agreed on. First, she couldn’t find her toothbrush. Then, Beth refused to eat her pancakes so Quinn had no choice but fix up something else. She was already frustrated, but the knock that echoed through her apartment was just the cherry on top.

God, you were too punctual. It was incredibly aggravating.

She opened the door, and there you were in all your annoyingly attractive glory. Quinn, on the other hand, was the opposite. Stained sweats and a too-big t-shirt.

“Hey, ‘m here for Beth,” you said, tone casual with that familiar smile, the one she’d fallen in love with sophomore year. Dumb, stupid smile. If the butterflies in her stomach don’t piss her off enough, you strut inside her apartment like you own the place.

She lets you in and practically forces you to sit and wait on the couch, trying not give your dumb grin even a glance while she rushes through her apartment for spare clothes, snacks, and Beth’s favorite unicorn plushie.

Speaking of Beth, the five year-old runs through the hallway with a bright expression, climbing onto the couch beside you and latching onto your side. “I missed you!” she exclaims, “are we still gonna see that disney movie?”

“We are,” you replied, pulling Beth onto your lap with a fond expression. Your hand gently rubbed the girl’s back, and she leaned into you, rambling about her park adventures from the day before.

Quinn watched the two of you with several complex feelings. She missed you, she knew that. Sometimes she wanted to talk to you and beg for something more than just shared custody. She missed her old life with you, the family breakfast’s and the movie nights.

Ugh. She missed you so bad.

“Here,” Quinn said as she approached the two of you on the couch, holding out a pink and white backpack. You took the bag from her, holding it with one hand and holding Beth’s hand from the other. You made it to the front door, then paused to look back at Quinn.

You smiled again, and it gave her that familiar tingly feeling her gut. Your voice was a little quieter now when you spoke, like you didn’t want to spook her.

“Hey, y’know, you’re always welcome to join us. You should come, it could be fun. I mean, Beth would like it.”

The girl perked up a little at her name, and she smiled brightly at Quinn, nodding. “I would like that, mama!”

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SUPER RANDOM but how do you do those really small fonts on your fics? been wanting to write but the regular font size bothers me😭😭

so like when you’ve typed something, just double tap it so that the blue thingy shows up and then the small font looks sort of like <s> 😭😭

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Come back to bed | L. Matthews oneshot

summary: The others may have pushed lottie away, but you had always stayed. Through the hunger, and the rituals, and everyone else talking about how crazy she was. She appreciated you more than you knew.

She thinks you’re sleeping.

You can feel it in the way she moves. Slow, careful, like she doesn’t want to wake you, or doesn’t want you to know that she’s still awake. She’d been having trouble sleeping lately, plagued with nightmares and visions and you’d always be the one to comfort her. She didn’t like that. Felt like she was a burden, almost. It didn’t help that she could see the toll it was taking on you. The eyebags, and the red in the whites of your eyes.

But she also didn’t realize that you were so worried about her, you couldn’t sleep yourself. All you wanted to do was be there for her. She only needed to let you in.

The mattress of bundled blankets shifts as she sits up. You crack an eye open just enough to watch her silhouette in the dark. She’s pulling on her boots with shaky fingers, the laces knotting unevenly. She doesn’t make a sound, but knowing Lottie is as easy as breathing. There’s tension in her shoulders that only shows up when something’s crawling under her skin.

She stands. Moves toward the cabin door. The floorboards creak and she freezes.

You say her name before she can open it. “…Lottie?”

She turns, startled. Wide eyes find yours through the dark, and she takes a few steps closer to you. “Shit. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you say, pushing up on one elbow. Your blanket pools around your waist and you shudder a little at the sudden cold. “Where are you going?”

She hesitates like she’s deciding whether to lie. “Just needed some air,” she says finally. “Couldn’t sleep.”

You reach a hand out to her, shifting to sit on your knees. “Hey, c’mere. Lay back down with me.”

She doesn’t answer right away. But then she sighs, soft and tired, and crosses back to you like she knows she doesn’t really want to refuse. Her weight settles beside yours and you lift the blanket over her and pull her close. She curls into you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, arm draping over your waist.

Her hands are cold, they always are. You slide yours under her sleeves to warm her wrists, and she exhales against your collarbone, breath shaking a little.

“Everything okay?” You murmur.

She nods, but the movement is small. She shifts until her forehead rests against yours. Her breath fans over your face in little puffs of air, eyes fluttering closed.

“I just feel… off. Like something’s gonna happen.”

“You’ve been feeling that way a lot lately.”

“I know.” She closes her eyes, grumbling a little. “I hate it.”

Her fingers curl around the hem of your shirt. It’s such a small thing, but she holds on like she needs it, like she needs you.

You don’t talk much when she gets like this. You’ve learned how to exist in silence. Sometimes words just make it worse, bring it too close to the surface. But you rub her back in slow circles, and she presses closer, and eventually her breathing starts to sync with yours.

“I can’t always tell what’s real anymore,” she says suddenly, “Sometimes I think i’m dreaming all of this. Like, I died in the crash and this is a hallucination, or something.”

The wind groans outside, and you both glance out the window to watch the snow fall.

“You didn’t die,” you say a moment later, fingers moving to gently card through her hair, “you’re here.”

She manages a bitter, soft laugh. She looks back up at you then, and you finally notice the tears that threaten to leave her eyes. “I know…just doesn’t feel like it.”

You don’t respond to that. You don’t even know what you’d respond with. So instead you settle for rubbing her back, mumbling a ‘get some sleep.’

She tries to settles beside you, eyes closing and hair gently tickling your temple. Her heartbeat slow a little, just enough to where you know she isn’t upset anymore.

“Love you,” she mumbles to you, “you know that? You’re too good.”

“Yeah,” you replied with a fond smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “yeah, I know. I love you too. Now c’mon, just relax, i’ve got you.”

With that, she lets out a deep, heavy sigh, and it doesn’t take long for her to melt against you, her expression peaceful and no longer bearing that furrow between her brows or the frown of her lips. When you were certain that she wouldn’t wake back up, you pressed a kiss to the scar on her forehead, murmured a ‘love you,’ and then finally, finally tried to get some rest.

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jackie taylor bot !

co-workers

Working with Jackie Taylor was two things. Hilariously entertaining, and also exhausting. You could picture her first day at the theater very well. Introducing herself to her colleagues, trying to make some friends. You’d been working there for about a year, and you’d taken her under your wing. Showed her the ropes, taught her all the rules.

And embarrassingly, Jackie had gotten a little attached. Like, she started looking forward to work, and it wasn’t just because of the money. She’s pretty sure she’s covered about two or three of your shifts every month just because you ask nicely.

When the two of you slowly evolved to hanging out outside of work, Jackie was so excited. The first time, she’d spent an hour trying to pick a good outfit. She just wanted to look her best for you!

There was only one bad thing about having a crush on your coworker. If you broke up, it would be awkward. Like, quit your job and move states type of awkward.

“God, these people are animals,” Jackie grumbled to you as she swept up stray popcorn from off the floor, “like, they realize people have to clean up after them, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied with an amused smile as you watched her, “they just don’t care.”

Jackie lets out another groan as she prods a sticky spot on the floor with the tip of her shoe. She sends you a disgusted look, which begins to shift into a slight grin.

“Why aren’t you helping?”

“I’m enjoying the show!” You defended yourself with a laugh. But, you grabbed your own broom and moved down a few rows to begin sweeping up trash.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, only broken by the sound of the broom sweeping over the floor. But then Jackie interrupted it by clearing her throat.

“Hey, what’re you doing after this?” Jackie questioned, pausing her cleaning to lean against one of the theater chairs, “cause, like, i’m kinda hungry. Maybe we could, like, get dinner. You know, only if you’re not busy though.”

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added lottie to my tomodachi world on my 3ds and now we’re married with kids 🙂‍↕️

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who i write for !

dcu - barbara gordon, cassandra cain, harley quinn, lois lane, mera, poison ivy, raven, selina kyle, starfire, wonder woman

glee - brittany s. pierce, quinn fabray, rachel berry, santana lopez

mcu - agatha harkness, ava starr, carol danvers, felicia hardy, gamora, gwen stacy (tasm and spider-verse), hela, jane foster, kate bishop, mantis, melina vostokoff, mj watson, natasha romanoff, nebula, rio vidal, sue storm, valkyrie, wanda maximoff, yelena belova

the boys/gen v - annie january, cate dunlap, emma meyer, indira sherry, marie moreau, queen maeve, victoria neuman

yellowjackets - akliah, gen, jackie taylor, laura lee, lottie matthews, mari ibarra, melissa, misty quigley, natalie scatorccio, shauna shipman, taissa turner, van palmer

misc - anora, cairo sweet, dina woodward, dorcas meadowes, ellie williams, ginny weasley, hermione granger, iris, rhiannon lewis, riley hart, robin buckley, nancy wheeler, lily evans, love quinn, lucy gray baird, lucy maclean, luna lovegood, marlene mckinnon, sam carpenter, sister barnes, tara carpenter, wednesday addams

i’ll probably add to this later on but these were only people i could actually think of right now 😭 if you have questions about who i write for, send an ask!

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vanillamace is genuinely hilarious I LOVE HER SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭 she’s so charming idk

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bro texted me again 😔

ex situationship just confirmed she’s in a relationship with a MAN 💔💔💔 on her ig notes at that 💔💔💔 we haven’t talked since february 💔💔💔 but i still miss her 💔💔💔 she likes all my reposts on tiktok 💔💔💔 does that mean nothing to her? 💔💔💔

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the gen v trailer 🤩🤩

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single-mom blurb | J. Taylor

Jackie Taylor is the soccer mom. She shows up to every game in her son’s team colors, and cheers the loudest out of all the moms.

She had seen you before, but never spoken to you. All she knew, you were the assistant coach. But, you had started to catch her eye a little more with each game. She found herself showing up to practice to watch rather than just drop her son off.

She was a little hesitant when it came to her love life because, even though she was still relatively young, there were certain stigmas about single mothers. She wanted someone who understood that her biggest priority was her son.

But, things started slowly. Eye contact that would last a second too long, subtle compliments about how you were so good with the kids. Although, Jackie did have her guard up. Not out of fear, but out of caution. She had a life carefully built around her son, routines solid as stone: weekday practices, saturday pancakes, movie nights with popcorn and mismatched socks on the couch.

At first, it was easy to pretend nothing serious was happening. A few dinners. Some long conversations in the parking lot when the rest of the kids had already gone home and her son was in the car, complaining about needing a shower. Jackie told herself it was casual. She had too much going on to fall for someone. Too many responsibilities. Too many nights of worrying if she’d remembered to sign the permission slip or schedule the dentist appointment. But she couldn’t ignore how her chest fluttered every time your name popped up on her phone.

You didn’t press. You gave her space to feel safe. You made things light when they needed to be, but never shallow. She tried to show you her appreciation: showing up early to help set up cones before practice, bringing extra water bottles when the weather spiked and snacks for when the kids got hungry.

She let you in inch by inch. First, it was the casual dinners after games. Then it was you coming by on a sunday morning with donuts and staying to help build a new bookshelf that had been sitting in a box in the corner of the living room for three weeks. The early mornings before the school rush, when her son watched cartoons in mismatched pajamas and she sipped lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug. You started showing up with bagels and that cinnamon-honey spread she liked, which was only served at a bakery across town. It wasn’t every day. Just enough to make it feel like something to look forward to.

There were also the in-between moments. You’d help haul groceries into the house. You stayed for dinner more often, first out of convenience, then out of habit. Then out of want. You’d watch cheesy family movies on friday nights, with hot chocolate and candy. When she was feeling stressed, you’d wash the dishes, take out the garbage, vacuum around the house.

She didn’t just like being around you anymore, she had started to miss you when you weren’t there. She found herself leaning into you without meaning to—calling you when the car battery died, when her son came home with a scraped knee, when she had a bad day at work and needed someone to talk to. And when you showed up, you didn’t ask for anything in return. You just made space for her, for all of it.

Still, there were moments when the weight of it hit her. Once, she watched the two of you from the kitchen window—you and her son in the backyard, kicking a ball around like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she froze. Not from fear, but from the sheer magnitude of how much she was beginning to trust you. How much she wanted this to last.

That scared her, made her feel a weird twisting sensation deep in her gut.

She had her moments. Days when balancing everything felt like too much. Being a mom, a partner, a woman who still had her own dreams. But you never made her feel like she had to choose between it all. You just made space. Held it for her when she couldn’t hold it for herself. The night she pulled back, saying she needed time, that maybe things were getting too serious. You didn’t argue. You just nodded, said you understood, and reminded her that you weren’t going anywhere unless she asked you to.

But she never did. She really didn’t want you to go anywhere.

So she started leaving a toothbrush for you in the bathroom drawer. You started keeping a spare hoodie at her place. Her son started asking if you’d stay for dinner. You always said yes. And the first time her son fell asleep on your shoulder during movie night, Jackie just stared for a second, heart in her throat, throat in her stomach. You didn’t even move. You just shifted a little so he’d be more comfortable, rested your cheek on his head, and kept watching the movie like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It stopped being a question of if you were part of her family and started feeling like you always had been. The love between you didn’t ask to be center stage. It existed in the background hum of the everyday: grocery store runs, the occasional forgotten lunchbox, the routine of bedtime stories and alarm clocks and coffee brewing just the way she liked it.

It wasn’t flashy, but it was full of trust and comfort, which is what Jackie craved most.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for something to fall apart. She didn’t feel like she was making space for someone who wouldn’t stay. She didn’t feel like she needed to be smaller, less of a burden. Really, she didn’t feel like a burden at all. Not when it came to you. You two weren’t just dating, anymore. You were building something. Slow, and steady, brick by brick.

[jupitersfall]

THIS is what Travis Martinez fumbled, by the way.

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ex situationship just confirmed she’s in a relationship with a MAN 💔💔💔 on her ig notes at that 💔💔💔 we haven’t talked since february 💔💔💔 but i still miss her 💔💔💔 she likes all my reposts on tiktok 💔💔💔 does that mean nothing to her? 💔💔💔

[jupitersfall]

post-crash blurb | N. Scatorccio

Nat was so different, it was unnerving. When you finally saw her, after all those months, it was like seeing a stranger. Frail, and skinny, cheeks hollowed. And when you hugged her, holding her tight and mumbling about how you missed her so much, thought she had died, she didn’t speak. No matter how much you begged for her to talk to you, it was only nod’s and only shakes.

She was distant, tried to push you away. And maybe you shouldn’t have pushed so hard to be there for her, maybe given her time to adjust and process, but you had pushed because you had missed her so fucking bad. You couldn’t lose her, not when you’d just gotten her back. And eventually she had let herself melt into your hugs, the familiar embrace serving to comfort her so. She was still quiet, but she’d progressed to tugs on your shirt, and hand squeezing.

The nightmares came first. Nat would wake up in a pool of sweat with tears in her eyes. Curled into a ball with arms wrapped around her legs, choked sobs clawing their way out of her mouth until she was crying, not because of her nightmares, but because of the rawness of her throat.

She’d call you, asking for you to come over. You didn’t even stop to brush your teeth. You climbed out your window and onto your bike and pedaled across town like your life depended on it. When you got there, her bedroom window was already cracked open. You climbed in like you used to when you were kids sneaking out to ride your bikes. But this time, she was waiting for you curled up on the edge of the bed, knees pulled to her chest, a hoodie that was three sizes too big and swallowed her frame. She looked like she was vanishing into herself.

She didn’t speak. Just reached for you with trembling hands.

You laid down behind her and let her pull your arm around her waist. Her spine was sharp under your touch—she’d lost so much weight. You could feel her heartbeat thudding through her back, like a small and terrified animal was trapped beneath her ribs.

You learned to stop asking what the dreams were about. Every time you tried, her whole body would go tense. Her eyes would dart, unfocused, like she was back there—wherever “there” was—and not in your room, not safe. So you stopped asking. You just held her when she needed it. Let her curl into your side, breath shaking, fists clenched in your shirt. You let her sleep with the light on. You left your window unlatched every night, just in case.

It was weeks before she gave you more than nods and shrugs. You learned to translate her silences, what each tug on your sleeve meant, how the way she held her breath meant she needed grounding, how to hold her without crowding her. Her grief had its own language, and slowly, you learned to speak it.

The first time she spoke again, really spoke, was nearly two months after she came back.

It was 2:47 a.m., and she had fallen asleep in your arms, breath evening out at last. But then she stirred, not from a nightmare this time—just quietly, like something inside her had shifted. She turned her face into your shoulder and whispered , so soft you barely caught it, “I missed you.”

It was a simple sentence, but it made your chest ache.

You didn’t know what to say. Not because you were angry, though maybe in some fucked-up, buried part of you, you were angry. angry that she had been given such a shitty life, angry that you weren’t there with her in the wilderness, angry that whatever happened in those 19 months had changed your girlfriend’s entire perspective on life. But because it was the first time in a long time that you’d heard so many words leave her mouth, you tried to relax. So you just said, “I know. Missed you too.”

After that, her silence grew less sharp, less like a blade and more like a fog that drifted between the two of you. She didn’t offer answers, and you stopped chasing them. But you saw the way she flinched when the phone rang. The way she kept her bedside lamp on all night, and the way she’d stare at her reflection in the mirror like she didn’t recognize herself.

And the day she laughed again—really laughed—you cried. It was sudden and small and it almost startled you. You were burning pancakes and cursing under your breath, and she just... cracked up. Giggling like she used to back in sophomore year when the two of you first met, when you’d do stupid, embarrassing shit to try and impress her. And in that sound, for just a second, you could see the girl she’d been before the wilderness. Before the crash.

You didn’t cry in front of her. No, you waited until you were in the bathroom. Turned the shower on, and let yourself fall apart.

One night in August, you were lying in the grass behind her house, heads tilted toward the stars. She hadn’t said much all evening, but it felt weirdly comfortable. She turned to you suddenly, face lit by moonlight, and said, “I thought I’d never be touched again. Not like this, and not by you. Not…gently.”

You looked at her then, really looked. Her cheeks were fuller. Her eyebags were lighter. She looked healthy, and so beautiful. “You don’t have to be afraid of that anymore.”

She shook her head, turned her eyes back to the sky. “I still am.”

You reached out, slow and careful, and took her hand. Her fingers wrapped around yours like they always did, like they had a thousand times before this. “Yeah,” you replied, “but you’re not alone.”

You listened. You stayed. Through the nightmares, the silence, the slow, inching recovery until you could see pieces of the girl you once knew, the one you fell in love with.

It wasn’t over. There were still bad nights. Still days where she didn’t speak, where her eyes were far away. But she came back to you, again and again. Smiled when you rubbed her back while watching television, laughed when you’d turn on old music and make her slow dance in the living room. You loved her. Each and every part of her, good and bad, and you swore to never lose her again. And maybe she knew that, deep down. She knew she wasn’t lost anymore, not entirely.

She certainly wasn’t the same girl who left, but you weren’t the same either. And whatever this was—this careful, aching thing you were building—it was yours. Honest. Quiet. Real. You both enjoyed it and it something you could both grasp on to, even in the worst of days.

[jupitersfall]

Hey! I wanna request something but would like to know your rules!

just made some rules!

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request rules !

18+ blog !

obviously i can’t totally decide who interacts or reads with my posts and i probably won’t be scrolling through every single like but i’d prefer if you are a minor or an ageless blog to at least try not to interact with any of my nsfw work.

what i write !

female reader, gn reader, praise, degradation, mommy kink, cnc, somnophilia, knife play, blood play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cheating/infidelity, consensual drunk/high (weed) sex, threesomes, cuckolding, period sex, supernatural stuff (vampires, werewolves, etc.)

i’m actively still figuring out what i’ll write/wont write so if there’s something that isn’t up here but you’re curious if i write for it, feel free to ask! also the list of characters that i write for is over here.

what i don’t write !

male reader, male characters (i’m a lesbian so yk), age play, race play, pet play, noncon, piss/scat, food play, incest, stepcest, real people, SA

bot/fic requesting !

if you’re gonna send me a request, try to specify a little. its the worst when someone sends me something that’s 1-2 sentences 😭 it doesn’t need to be super detailed, but at least give me something to work with cause i’ll feel pretty bad if i write something that’s wayyy different than what you were expecting or hoping for

make sure to specify the character & reader gender (if you don’t specify, i’ll write it as gender neutral) and of course the plot

PLEASEEE read these rules before you request 😭😭 i always feel bad having to ignore somebody’s request or reject it if they didn’t read these beforehand

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two more weeks of classes until my summer 😝 send requests guys 🙏🏻

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JUST THE TWO OF US | N. SCATORCCIO

summary: part 2 to cam-girl. Nat goes live for the second time, but now she’s brought along a partner. Only, said partner doesn’t realize that they’ve watched her before.

a/n: WHEWWW i finally got this out. i genuinely changed the plot of this like 5 times so this is what you guys get. its also been like a month since i posted the first one…whoops.

warning: smut. strap-on sex (n!receiving)

Nat didn’t want to get too dependent on her body for cash. She liked working. She liked being around music. Honestly, if she could work at the record store for the rest of her life, she would. The only con was when some kid’s would wander in, touch all the vinyl’s without buying one, and then leave. Fuckin’ loiterers.

Anyway, she hadn’t done another live yet. She’d posted a few pictures, sure. But only when she was getting low on cash. Like, if she needed an extra five bucks to pay for her booze. A quick pic of her tits would do. The first notification she’d see every time would be from the one and only ‘okcomputer11’. Fifty bucks with a ‘looking gorgeous,” or something along those lines.

Nice boost to her ego, at least.

But she figured if she was going to do a second live, it had to be a little more entertaining than the first. Nobody wanted to see her touching herself again. She needed new material. So, she asked a good friend of hers to help.

Safe to say, you were completely taken aback when you’d read her texts. Being so casually told that Natalie fucking Scatorccio wanted to film you two having sex. You were co-workers, for christ’s sake.

But then again, Nat was gorgeous. What were you supposed to say? No?

So the following night Nat was leading you into her bedroom, rambling about ‘if i make you uncomfortable, just tell me to stop’ and ‘i think i might have a mask around here if you want to cover your face.’

Just casual friend talk.

You were busy with the buttons of your shirt when Nat hunched over her computer to turn it on. Only, when she saw you in the reflection, she swatted your hands away.

“Let me do it,” she murmured to you, already replacing your hands. She turned to look at her camera, trying to read some of the comments that sped by. You busied yourself with taking a look around her room as she worked on your shirt.

Man, you swear you’ve seen those bedsheets somewhere. And that painting…

Your shirt was tossed to the ground, and then Nat was tugging off her own shirt. Your hands immediately found her tits, fingers groping her through her bra. She let out a little ‘mmh’, bringing a hand to the back of your neck and then tugging you into for a kiss.

Wow! ‘Softbastard69’ has donated $100: fuck her already

Nat let out a little laugh as the robotic voice sounded out, muffled by your lips against hers and your tongue in her mouth. She pulled away from the kiss only to tug down her jeans, kicking them away so she was left just in her underwear. Then, much to your disappointment, she was walking off and shuffling through one of her bedside drawers.

“What’re you doing?” you groaned out, moving to sit at the edge of her bed. you leaned back, resting on your elbows as you watched her. she pulled out a purple-looking item and your eyes widened a little as she approached you with a strap-on.

“Relax,” Nat said as she took in your sheepish expression, “you don’t have to do too much. just sit back.”

With a nod and a deep breath, you allowed her to shimmy the harnesses onto your lap. You tightened the straps just enough to where you were sure it would stay put, and then, to your surprise, Natalie sunk to her knees in front of you. Her hands nudged your legs apart and then her lips were finding the tip of the purple silicone, tongue darting out to wet it. She took it into her mouth, cheeks hollowing a little as she slowly bobbed her head ho and down the strap-on.

“God,” you mumbled breathlessly, eyes dazed as you watched, almost entranced. You brought a hand up to gently card your fingers through her hair, pushing some of it out of her face. She let out a pleased hum, watching your face with hooded eyes. After a minute or so, she pulled away and stood back up.

“Getting it wet,” she murmured to you as she placed her hands on your shoulders and carefully moved to hover overtop of your lap. You reached between her thighs, fingertips pressing against her clit through her panties. Nat moaned softly, nails gently digging into your shoulders. She lowered a little, eyes closing as she gently grinded against your hand.

“you’re so hot,” you said to her, watching her with a little grin. The camera was out of your mind—replaced by the way Nat looked as she pushed her panties to the side and dragged the tip of the strap-on through her folds.

“Yeah?” she replied with a quiet chuckle. Her eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a quiet sigh as she slowly sunk down a little, “mmh…yeah. So are you.”

She moved slowly at first, both of you exhaling in sync as if you'd rehearsed it. But nothing about this felt rehearsed. Nat’s hips rolled in a slow, steady rhythm. The light from her laptop cast a faint glow against her back, and you could still hear the faint ping-ping of donations, of people watching — but it all blurred into white noise.

She sank down slowly, the tip nudging against her as she let our a breathy little “mmh,” her hands braced on your shoulders. Her thighs trembled just a bit — not from nerves, but anticipation. You weren’t sure where to look. Her face, twisted in soft pleasure, or the way her hips rolled forward, careful but insistent. The camera, all blinking red light and scrolling comments, had become a background character.

Still there, though. Still watching.

"Still good?" she asked, her voice low and a little breathless.

You nodded, unable to keep your grin from spreading. "Better than good."

That earned you a real laugh from her. Not one of those quick, forced laughs she sometimes gave when someone tried to flirt with her at the record store. This one was warm, real, right from the gut.

“This is what they like to watch,” she murmured to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But you’re the one living it, aren’t you?”

You managed only a weak nod. She leaned down and kissed you again — slower this time. Deeper. You forgot where you were for a moment. Forgot about the camera. Forgot about everything except the soft sounds she made when you slid your hands down her back and she arched into your touch, to the way her body moved like she was riding a wave she didn’t want to end. It felt like just the two of you. You didn’t care about the camera anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was Nat and you, just taking care of each other.

Her rhythm faltered. Just for a second, barely noticeable. But then her forehead dropped against yours, sweat causing her hair to her stick to her temple.

“Fuck,” she muttered, “You’re gonna make me—“ she didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to.

Her body stuttered hard against yours, legs trembling as she came. Not loud, but raw. A gasp, choked-off moan, nails digging into your shoulders like they were her only lifeline. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and her eyes squeezed shut. For several long seconds, she didn’t move. The only sounds were the sounds of your mixed pants for air.

But then the robotic voice broke the silence.

Wow! ‘Monstermeat290’ has donated $250: i think i just saw god

Nat let out a laugh. One of those fucked-up, post-orgasmic laughs that sounded almost like crying. Then she slowly pulled away, cheeks all flushed and eyes hooded as she carefully climbed off of your lap—whimpering a little as the strap-on slid out of her.

She made her way over to her computer, and then she slammed the lid shut.

No outro, no thank you.

She turned to you with an amused expression, still naked and still trying to catch her breath.

“That was something,” she hummed after a moment of silence, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You took that as your cue to leave.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” you replied, standing up from your spot on her bed and then shimmying out of the harnesses, “yeah, i should probably head home. But, uh, call me again?”

“Mhm,” Nat replied, nodding. She watched as you left, and then she grabbed a fresh pair of clothes.

Later that night, when Nat was in bed and scrolling through her activity feed, she noticed her usual donator hadn’t been in the stream.

Which, honestly, was a little confusing. And a bit of a sting, too. Okcomputer11 hadn’t missed a single post of hers, now all of a sudden they weren’t interested in her or something? Whatever. Nat didn’t even care.

She was just about to set her phone down, when she got a text from you.

‘that was fun :) maybe we could do it again sometime.’

Yeah, it was fun.

So, Nat replied.

‘yeah, maybe.’