hi, i'm dexter, i'm in my 20s. i write gender neutral or male fics/blurbs. i'm painfully shy but i still like to post. from the states, he/they pronouns, secretly a fox with a computer. sorry for typing so straight, i promise i'm a gay man, i'm just shy and nervous.
i will sometimes write darker topics. those will be tagged accordingly. if i missed something, please shoot me a dm.
i'm mostly focused on the goslingverse right now, but i am multifandom. my watchlist is small right now, but i plan on seeing more films so i can write more.
asks are always open. if requests aren't, i am not opposed to just popping in to say hi. i promise i'm friendly ;;
who i write for (so far): driver, ryland grace, holland march, lars lindstrom, colt seavers
perv!driver !! perv!driver !! er hello i need him peeking and touching himself without anyone seeing him in his car AND also touching himself at home because what else would he do when his head is filled with you all the time <33
YES YES YES watching from his car… i think if ur someone to walk to places he would deffo follow from a distance w/lights off. would linger in the parking garage to watch you by the elevator. YUM yum yum yum.
mdni, 18+
sawry about the wait life has been insane lately
i'm picturing he's your neighbor. you both interact with each other in passing, but it's an obsessive crush that forms when driver's breath stutters when you smile at him. he never does that. he's typically composed. at first, the absurd thought of being poisoned flashes in his mind (he isn't one to get soft), then he realizes he's leaking in his jeans. he's hard. he's rock fucking solid, and you only looked at him. that's when it's part of his routine.
his car is his favorite place now. well—it's always been his favorite place, but now it's even better. sometimes he lingers there, across the parking tower with a perfect view of the elevator. he lingers, memorizing your schedule, knowing if you worked nights or not. when you did, he'd feel his pulse beneath his skin, rabbiting when his gloved hand dips beneath his waistband . his belt was long forgotten, unbuckled in haste to get his aching dick out upon first glance of you rounding the corner.
he tries to control himself. tries to still the ache in his bones, even as his cock leaks against the sliver of exposed stomach. he's already stroking himself, even if you haven't done anything notable. you're just waiting by the elevator, just pressing the button. mundane things. driver desperately wishes he could stand by you. hold your things, help you to your apartment. dote over you like normal couples do. though, the both of you aren't a couple, and he's sure you don't even know his name. the thought of being there someday makes his hips buck up into his fist.
sometimes he slips into your apartment. when you've picked locks your entire life, it becomes second nature.
his favorite room of all time is your bedroom, for obvious reasons. you sleep there. you spend your most vulnerable times there. he wishes you'd be a little more careless and leave your front door unlocked—he's proud that you aren't, really—so he could watch you sleep. to see you when you're bundled up and peaceful.
your laundry basket is possibly his second favorite thing in your place, though it's tied with your bathroom (he's used your toothbrush a couple of times, the indirect kiss having him blowing his load in his jeans right then and there). he's pilfered a pair of your underwear, stealing it for the night to breathe you in. to wrap it around his aching cock and jerk himself off into a bitten knuckle at the thought of you. he knows your laundry day. knows when to return the pair to your basket without a hitch. sometimes he considers not scrubbing them. considers leaving part of himself there for you to discover.
owner!driver thoughts w/obsessive mannerisms sprinkled in-between. gn!reader. this was supposed to just be headcanons but i got carried away.
mdni, 18+
he is the perfect owner. incredible patience with a silent yet demanding presence. he also devotes his entire being and soul to you, ensuring his little puppy is well taken care of.
depending on if you're bad or not, there's a crate by your bedside. if you've been misbehaving, bad dogs sleep in the crate. blanketed if you don't deserve his attention. seeing him, spending time with him, those are all privileges. however, he can be easily swayed if you flash your pretty eyes at him… woof.
the crate is somewhat comfortable. lined with blankets, pillows, plushies if you've got your own collection. he hopes you rarely have to use it, but bad behavior is inevitable. it's part of the training process. you can't seem to grasp that you aren't an outside dog. despite how much he reassures you it's okay, he's ushering you towards the crate by the time the sun goes down. despite the intentions of the crate being a punishment, he still keeps a portion of the blanket pulled back. far enough to see him atop your shared bed. he isn't able to help the fact that he misses his sweet little puppy, even if they've been bad.
BIG on training. definitely works on clicker training you, whether it be snaps or whistles, he prefers silent commands over words. he does speak whenever you've crossed a line, or you're being a bad dog. that's when you get his soft yet stern voice.. woof. before he realizes he's into it, he trains you subconsciously. snaps when he wants your attention, gestures for you to come closer, gives you scritches when you listen to him... each bout of obedience thrills him to no end.
it starts small; snaps to get your attention when you aren't focusing, gestures that evolve into incremented clicks when he requests your presence. he naturally doesn't prefer to use many words—talking is exhausting when he's already unsure of how to navigate social spaces—so gesturing and whistling is right up his alley. then he notices that you're responding far too well to such a thing. you perk up, attentive as ever, when he does something as simple as cracking open a can. that's when he realizes he's essentially trained you, and he's insatiable with it. it advances into ruffling your hair (little scritches behind your ears and at the nape of your neck), praising you with completing tasks, he's training you and you don't seem to realize it. the obliviousness is what gets him so fucking hard.
bringing up parallel play once again… he prefers if you curl up next to him while he's fixing something. just you in your pretty collar resting beside his boot while he keeps his hands busy.
he's got something on the table, his hands busy with fixing. always fixing. always this restless energy he's unable to dispel. your presence is what calms him. you're wearing your collar today—you picked it out along with the silver tag, your name engraved (something he got a thrill in when the two of you went to petco)—clad in nothing else. the warmth of your skin is something he is very aware of, curled up comfortably against the denim of his jeans. resting at his feet like a loyal puppy. occasionally, he'll offer scritches, a small smile gracing his face at how obedient and quiet you are.
i do think he enjoys testing you and/or pushing you with mixed signals. he loves seeing your confused expression when he encourages you to grind on his boot, then scolds you for getting the leather wet.
he's got you on your knees, thighs bracketing his pant leg as you grind up against his boot. his expression is unreadable as ever, one hand busy with carding through your hair. he'll offer a click, petting you as a reward, then scolding you when things get messy. he isn't able to help it. your confused expression, the subtle tilt of your head with your trusting eyes, it gets him far too hard to compose himself. he allows you to use his boot to indulge in yourself, prying you away when you get too close with a sharp whistle (something you've established as a warning). he knows he's being unfair, knows that he's sending mixed signals. it's okay, though. he knows you're nothing but a dumb puppy. knows that you're still learning.
huge on praise and rewards… he's generally a very giving owner, but he does have the capacity to be stern. i think if he's trying to get you to try something, he isn't past the thought of forcefeeding you and holding your maw shut. always praises you afterwards… deffo talks you through things…
you never favored the taste of kibble. possibly because it's socially unacceptable to eat dog treats, but driver wants you trying new things. wants you to learn tricks, learn to heel, and learn to obey. he has been trying to gently coax you with a treat for a few minutes, his patience dwindling with each time you shrink away and wrinkle your nose. he's decided he's had enough when you jerk away with a whine, his gloved hands gripping your jaw and forcing it open with a thumb pressing against your tongue. the dog treat is pushed in unceremoniously, the leather of driver's glove sealing over your lips with a sense of finality. he watches, rapt, as you squirm. he doesn't blame you. it's new, but you'll learn. you usually are such a good puppy for him. he exhales heavily through his nose when he realizes you're chewing. you're eating the dog treat, even if your humanity begs otherwise. he doesn't release your jaw until you swallow. until he feels the click of your throat. his grip relaxes, hands diverting up to card in your hair. there's a hint of a smile on his face when he praises, "always such a good puppy."
i NEED to know your thoughts on driver being selective mute and having some touch aversion. i feel like he finds talking to most ppl just takes more energy than it’s worth so he just doesn’t talk. some people find it weird but he doesn’t care
and he just doesn’t like the feeling of most things touching him so he wears his gloves to feel safer. one of the few things he can stand to touch is his car, he likes the feeling of the steering wheel
anyways it’s my biggest hc for him, autism be damned my boy can drive a car!!
YOU GET IT! oh my gosh, you get it.
as someone who is also touch adverse and selectively mute, this is so special to me. let me sit with him and read… let's be quiet together…………..
despite him not having the energy for speaking, i think he values people who stick by him. a lot of people are turned away by such a quiet and reserved man… this is also why he's a huge fan of parallel play. sometimes there will be dates where the both of you drive around, the only noise being the radio—possibly tuned in to a game or some talk show, useless background chatter—so he could focus on the road and you right beside him. being able to turn his brain off for a spell is very comforting.
methinks he is also touch adversed yes yes… hand holding is very important and tolerable because of his gloves. also, incredibly self indulgent, i think he wears layers + strictly wears pants. shorts are a sensory nightmare because everything is on bare skin…
(takes long drag of cigarette) thinking about holland whining and whimpering while fucking you from behind while you're laying on your side and he's sobbing into your hair because he wants to see your pretty face but he came home late and smelling of cheap booze for the third time that week so as punishment he can't look at you and he's actually considering going to AA meetings after that
Hi! I’ve been reading your fluffs and needless to say I love them!
I want to ask if you could write something with driver, maybe reader comforting him after a rough day, or maybe him just finding comfort in reader in the domestic moments etc? Thank you!
have you been in my drafts….? because as you sent this, i literally had a smutty version of this ready to post (aka rough day) 🫣
anyway,,, thank you so much! i love this idea and i loveeeeee writing domestic driver, pls that man deserves the world
also i’m sorry this has taken so longgggg!
comfort in you.
warning: soft driver, domestic driver, mention of kissing kink (but it’s all fluff, no smut)
word count: 1.3k
throughout his life, driver had found little comfort in other people. he left home when he could, he never had any long lasting, meaningful relationships. when he arrived in la, he was content to work his different jobs and go home to an empty apartment at the end of the day.
but when he met you, everything changed.
that first day he saw you in the elevator, taking it up to the same floor as him, he knew things would be different. he wanted to know you, wanted to be around you. you were so sweet, asking him to press the button for the fourth floor before giggling once you’d realised that he had already pressed it. you were on opposite sides of the elevator, but that didn’t stop you from glancing over at him. he had seen you, but that was only because he was looking first.
after that, you saw each other fairly regularly. driver had even gone out of his way to met you at the elevator, head out of his apartment at the same time as you, just to have a few minutes next to you. he helped you when you bought a new couch and needed it moving, and you thanked him with dinner.
little did he know, that you’d also been making an effort to see him more. since that first day you two had met, you couldn’t get your hot neighbour’s face out of your head. you would make more noise than necessary when leaving so he would hear and come out at the same time as you. you had even bought a couch that was way too big for your apartment just so he would help you.
after that dinner, you saw each other almost every day. either he would come over to yours, or you’d make the short walk to his just to be with him. do nothing but watch tv. sit and enjoy each other’s company with only a few words between you. you truly didn’t mind; you just wanted him.
and so, driver found comfort in you. he found himself craving your presence and needing to be around you just to get through the day.
neither of you knew when it turned into something more than just friends. the nights you would make dinner for him, he’d be around before you started prepping the ingredients. he’d hover close to you with either an arm around your waist as he stood next to you in the low light, or his front would be pressed against your neck, letting your voice reverberate against his chest and fill a hole he didn’t know he had.
he’d always help you clean up afterwards, washing and drying dishes and putting them away in exactly the right places. it felt like he knew your apartment better than he did his own. when the last plate was away, you’d curl up on your sofa and turn on the tv, finding something mindless and easy to watch.
driver would be leant against the back cushions, his legs spread out in front of him as you curled into his side. he had an arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you close, that hand tracing lines up and across your skin as his other fiddled with the hem of your jeans that were across his lap.
most nights you’d fall asleep like that. the warmth and the soft presence of driver was enough to let you drift into a peaceful dream. those nights, he’d fight so hard with himself, mentally deciding whether to stay with you like that all night, or gently lay you on your bed before slipping out quietly.
he’d always take you to your room and leave you in peace, but every night he wished he could stay with you.
when you first kissed him, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. he had been fixing a car part at his small dining table as you sat on the couch next to him, watching him silently as he worked. you asked a few questions about what he was doing which he answered without lifting his head to you.
you didn’t mind that. it gave you the perfect opportunity to cast your eyes over his body, moving from his soft blond hair down to his strong arms and powerful legs. when you first met him, you thought he was one of the prettiest people you’d ever met. now that you knew him even more, you’d confidently say that to anyone who asked.
the muscles in his arms twitched as he moved, his skin glistening under the harsh white light as he kept his sharp focus on the part. after five minutes of silence (and you just staring at him), driver turned to face you, pushing his chair slightly back from the table. the sound caught your attention, your gaze snapping up to meet his own.
neither of you said anything as you suddenly stood up, crossing the small gap between the two of you. your hands reached out for his shoulders, your thumbs rubbing back and forth over the slightly dirty white t-shirt. driver just stared up at you, his hands wanting to grab your hips, but not having the confidence yet.
you titled your head slightly to the right before straddling his thighs and quickly sitting down in his lap. his hands moved onto your body at the sheer shock of your actions, holding you tightly so that you didn’t fall. as he was internally panicking, your fingers traced up the sides of his neck, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your hands.
“you’re so pretty.” you finally whispered, leaning closer so that your noses were almost touching. he titled his head quizzingly.
“no one ever told you that?” you asked, your thumbs stroking the skin of his cheekbones. he just shook his head, a sad expression starting to paint his features.
“well,” your voice was lower, growing quieter the closer you got to his face. “i’m glad i got to be the first.” and before you finished your sentence, your lips were on his.
after that, driver felt addicted to kissing you. he’d do it at any chance he could get: when he woke up, when he left the apartment, when he came home, when you both went to bed. he’d kiss you different each time, sometimes soft, and sometimes a little harder depending on how he felt.
the days when he came home and wrapped himself around you, pushing his face into the crook of your neck, you knew he had had a rough day. on those days, you’d guide him to your shared bed (you ended up moving into his apartment after three months of living there anyway), lay on your back and bring him close to your side. he’d laid contentedly on your chest, letting your heartbeat calm him down and he revealed in your warmth.
you would place gentle kisses onto his hairline every so often, pulling him closer as he snuggled further into your side.
“bad day?” you asked after a while, not sure if he’d fallen asleep or not.
“yeh.” he sighed, lifting his head up to look at you. he sat up and rested on his elbow, leaning over you as he cupped your cheek in his hand. he gave you one of his soft smiles before moving closer, pressing his lips to yours and gave you a sweet kiss.
“better now.” his voice was soft, pressing another kiss onto your lips.
“good,” you smiled, running a hand down his chest. “i’m glad you’re home, too.”
