#Dennis Baker fanfiction

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Sweet Redemption

Title: Sweet Redemption

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Female!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: You move into the neighborhood and meet Dennis Baker, a man in the middle of a divorce. Trying to keep yourself honest, you keep him at a distance. But you're drawn together after a mishap online. Will it end sweetly or on a sour note?

Warnings: ending of a marriage due to infidelity, nosy neighbors, slight social media stalking, alcohol consumption, premature ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, hyperspermia, mention of bodily fluids

Beta: @peyton-warren

A/N: This all started as a dream, and no it wasn’t like a Stephanie Meyer situation. More like, I dreamt of Dennis cumming in his pants from getting too excited and then 5,000+ words fell out of my fingers. So, enjoy!!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It’s been the talk of the neighborhood. Mrs. Baker was moving out of the house she shared with Mr. Baker, and it was quite a messy ordeal. It was the stuff of trashy romance novels, but here it was in real life. The worst part was trying to sympathize with Mr. Baker losing his marriage. Of course, this was a sad thing, and you understood that he was distraught. But, ever since last summer at the neighborhood block party, you had been falling for Mr. ‘Please, call me Dennis’ Baker. 

You had just moved in and were excited to get out and meet your new neighbors. You met most of the cul-de-sac the day you moved in. But the Bakers seemed to keep to themselves, for the most part. 

At the block party, you made baked goods for everyone to enjoy. The first person to come and try your lemon bars was Mr. Baker. He stormed out of his house a few moments prior, and you tried to keep your eyes to yourself, but you couldn’t help but watch as he charged to a cooler holding beer and pulled out a fresh bottle. 

Using his shirt to cover the cap before he twisted it, you got a sneak peek of his washboard abs and happy trail. Tossing the bottle cap back into the cooler, he took a long pull of the hoppy liquid, swiping the bottle across his forehead to cool himself down. He took off his glasses to wipe off the sweat on his brow and put them back on, surveying the cul-de-sac.

As soon as he saw you, he seemed to be transfixed. He walked over to your lawn, where you had set up a little table with your lemon bars and some fresh, ice-cold lemonade. He reached over the table, offering his large hand for a handshake, and you loved having your hand in his, even if only for a moment. His grip was firm, and his smile was wide.

“You just moved in, yeah? I’m Dennis Baker. Welcome to the neighborhood,” he bantered, his gemstone-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Thank you, Mr. Baker,” you mumbled, adding your name at the end.

“Nice to meet you. And please, call me Dennis,” he encouraged, looking down at the treats between you. “Lemon bars are my favorite.”

You lift the tray so he can take one. “Try one before Mrs. Johnson brings her grandkids over and there are none left,” you insisted, nodding to where the older woman was wrangling the kids.

He laughed, the sound tickling your eardrums. “I think you’re right, they look ravenous,” he joked, picking up one of the bars between his fingers and biting into the sweet yet tart delight. 

His eyes closed, a sinful moan escaping his lips as he finished. He sucked on his thumb and forefinger to get every last morsel of the delicacy, but a crumb stayed behind on his plump, pink lips.

You grabbed a napkin, and before you knew what you were doing, you dabbed at his lip to wipe away the offensive piece of shortbread crust. You froze, your hand gripping the napkin so close to his succulent mouth, ready to apologize for treating him like a messy child. But he saves you from your embarrassment.

“I swear, I am such a mess. My wife will tell you the same damn thing, I'm sure," he lamented, a nervous chuckle on his lips as he took the napkin from your hand and wiped his mouth.

“Dennis!” His wife stands outside their front door with her hands on her hips. Her ash blonde waves reflected the sunlight, but the fire in her eyes made you want to be swallowed up into the earth. 

“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear,” he mumbles lowly, just loud enough for you to catch what he said. “Um, thanks for the, uh, lemon bar. I’ll see you around, I guess.” He smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you immediately feel the urge to wrap your arms around him and tell him that everything will be ok.

Instead, you smile back politely and give a little wave. You watch him until he turns around to walk back to his house, busying yourself with pouring a cup of lemonade. You gulped the drink in one go, trying to soothe your suddenly dry mouth, when Mrs. Johnson walked over.

“Alright, kids. Take one lemon bar and go sit down in the shade, ok?” One by one, the three youngsters take a napkin and a lemon bar, and you pour each a glass of lemonade. Once they have their snacks, they walk back to sit under the shade of a tree. You almost forgot Mrs. Johnson was still there until she cleared her throat. “So, I see you met Mr. Baker. Easy with that one, honey.”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, knowing damn well what she meant.

“He’s married, child. Unhappily, but still very much married,” she began, shaking her head as she watched Dennis’ retreating form enter his front door. When she turned back around, she looked you right in the eyes and started to whisper. “Now, you didn’t hear this from me. But word on the street is they’re in the middle of a divorce because of infidelity. That hussy went and got mixed up with the pool boy, and poor Dennis was the last to know, of course. And I don’t mean to lecture you on who you should be drooling over, but I can’t help wanting to make sure you know what you are getting into, baby.”

“I’m not—I wasn’t drooling. We barely even spoke,” you stuttered, shaking your head.

“Mhm, okay. Just try your best to wait for the ink to dry on that divorce decree, alright?” She patted your hand that lay on the table, then walked back to her grandchildren.

‘Well, that was fun,’ you thought to yourself. You poured yourself another lemonade, took a sip, and peeked over the top of the cup to see the blinds closing quickly in the front window of the Baker house. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you packed up your small table to take everything back inside. 

Over the last year, you heeded Mrs. Johnson’s warning and managed to keep Dennis at arm’s length. You greeted each other when you happened to check the mailbox at the same time, exchanged recipes when you bumped into one another at the grocery store, and even commented on the other’s social media posts. 

Speaking of social media, you noticed when Dennis cropped his wife out of a few photos. You hated to admit it, but you stalked his page more than once. It became a habit of yours to scroll through his posts now and then. He usually reposted articles about creative writing workshops and local beer tastings. You watched the evolution of his life from a man divorcing his wife to a man who looked forward to the future.

One night, while enjoying a glass of wine, you open your laptop and begin scrolling through your feed. You find yourself clicking on an article about online dating and pushing past the fear of putting yourself out there. As you reach the end of the piece, you click the thumbs-up button and are shown other names of friends who also liked it. And that’s when you see it.

‘Dennis Baker also liked this.’ 

So, it looked like Dennis was ready to move on. You chew your lip, thinking a million things all at once. You click out of the article and resume scrolling for the night. 

After about a half hour, you get up to refresh your chardonnay. As you pour a healthy glass, you hear a ‘ding’ come from your laptop. Returning to the couch, you set down your glass and pick up the computer. 

You search the screen for what could have made that sound, and you spot a notification in the corner. Clicking it reveals a pop-up that says, ‘Dennis Baker liked your photo.’. Clicking it again, you are shown the photo in question. It’s a selfie you took about three weeks ago when you and a few friends went to the beach. You smile at the camera lens and show off your skimpy two-piece bathing suit as you lay on a lounger.

This man liked your thirst trap from three weeks ago, at 10:36 pm on a Thursday. It could be a fluke, but it could be that this man stalks your page as well. You don’t have the chance to ponder it in-depth because you are startled by another ‘ding’.

This time, there is an alert from the Messenger app. 

‘You have a new message from Dennis Baker.’

You waste no time clicking the notification and are brought to the web-based messenger. 

Hey, what are the chances that my liking your photo just now isn’t creepy??

Not creepy at all 😉

Just unexpected

Then again, it is a thirst trap, guess it worked lol

Oh, it definitely worked 😁

And by that, I mean you take great selfies

You looked beautiful, I mean

I am shit at this, I’m sorry

You wish you could reach through the computer screen and cradle his face in your hands and tell him that everything is fine. But instead, you gush over him calling you beautiful, and try to lighten the mood.

No apologies necessary

And thank you for the compliment 😉

What are you up to tonight?

Besides flattering me ☺️

I was just taking a break from writing

Have a deadline coming up and my mind is a mess

Saw you were online, so I figured ‘why not’

Still getting used to a quiet house

I’m sorry

You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart

That responsibility belongs to my ex-wife

But enough about her, what are you doing up so late?

Just enjoying some wine 😉

And I also don’t like the quiet all the time

Sometimes you just want a body next to you

The chardonnay gave you some liquid courage, allowing you to say what you think.

I doubt that was an invitation

But

If you wanted, I wouldn’t mind the company

You could relax and have some wine

And I could get some writing done

Totally up to you

I would love the company as well

I’m sure Mrs. Johnson and the other old bitties would talk about us though

Let them talk, doesn’t bother me one bit

Mrs. Johnson doesn’t scare me

And either way, it’s our business

Not hers

Not that we have business

I’m shutting up now

‘A man this wonderful should never have to feel like he isn’t allowed to express himself,’ you thought to yourself. Plus, you know you wouldn’t exactly mind it if you and he did have some ‘business’.

I know what you mean

You don’t have to shut up lol

But I think I might go to bed in a bit

Yeah it is getting late

Do you want to exchange numbers?

No pressure, of course

Just figured it would be easier than this

Yeah that sounds great

You exchange numbers and smile at your phone before saving his contact and returning to your online chat.

Well, good luck writing

And don’t stay up too late 😉

I’ll try my best

Good night, sweetheart 😁

Good night, Dennis

You close your laptop and gulp down the rest of your wine. Well, so much for keeping him at arm’s length.

Throughout the next week, you and Dennis send texts back and forth from morning to midnight. You find out you have similar interests in movies and humor, but you differ in music and food tastes. Both of you love horror films and John Mulaney stand-up. You enjoy any music you could dance to and trying interesting new foods, while he likes easy listening and “nothing too spicy”.

Good morning and good night texts sandwich your other messages that range from fascinating to mundane. If you were honest with yourself, there were moments where you wish the texts would get a bit spicier. You didn’t want to force him into a conversation he wasn’t ready to have. Also, you didn’t want to assume he would ever want to have a conversation like that.

You invited Dennis over on Friday night; neither of you had plans, and you were feeling a bit on the lonely side since your friends all had significant others to hang out with. You get home from work, take a shower, and change into some comfy loungewear. 

Just as you are finishing your dinner dishes, you get a text from Dennis asking if he can head over. After sending a quick text to the affirmative, you set your phone on the counter. You’re drying your wine glass from dinner when your doorbell rings. You hang up your dish towel and go to answer the door.

You check your appearance in the mirror in the foyer and are pleased with yourself. Opening the door, you are greeted by a smiling Dennis who holds his laptop case in one hand and a bottle of your favorite red blend in the other. More wine!You step aside to let him into your house and note that he looks relaxed for once.

“I picked this up for you. I remember you saying that you liked it,” he says, giving you the bottle once he is in your living room. The self-satisfied smile on his face does nothing to quell the fire between your legs.

“Thank you, Dennis,” you beam, taking the bottle in one hand while the other squeezes his bicep. You’re surprised when he flexes under your grip, biting your lip and rushing to the kitchen to open the bottle.

“No problem, sweetheart. Mind if I get set up here on the couch?” He inquires, already sitting down and taking out his laptop.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. There’s an outlet for your charger on the wall next to the—”

“I got it!” He interjects, cutting you off and plugging in his charger. He sits again and starts to boot up his laptop, looking over at you and noticing you are having trouble opening the wine. 

He walks over to you, taking the bottle and corkscrew from your hands after wordlessly offering help. Effortlessly, he pops the cork on the bottle and pours you a healthy glass. You accept the wine, take a sip, and thank him for his help.

“Next time, just say that you need help. I’m not gonna think any less of you, sweetheart,” he reassures, smiling and rubbing a hand down your arm. 

You stand there looking up at him, wishing you weren’t intimidated by this normally unassuming man. Clearing your throat, you find your voice. 

“Come on, you told me you were gonna read me some of what you’re writing,” you probe, nodding to the couch.

“That’s right, I did say that,” he snorts, running a hand through his hair and walking back to the living room. “But, remember, I’m no Shakespeare. So, don’t expect this to be—”

“Dennis?” You cut him off, your hand going to his solid shoulder.

“Yeah?” His soft, aquamarine orbs move to you.

“Shut up and show me your work,” you insist, dropping your hand from his arm so you don’t accidentally ruffle his hair. He’s so cute when he’s pathetic and down on himself, but you would never tell him that. 

That nervous laugh of his is your absolute favorite; it never disappoints. 

“Alright, um, this one I’m working on is about the new brewery that opened up on Main Street a few months ago. It’s owned by this guy who used to own another brewery with friends, but one day he just decided to open this place. Anyway, uh, I’ll start here,” he begins, adjusting his glasses on his face.

Dennis launches into a tale about a brewmaster who decides to follow his dream of being the sole owner of a brewery, leaving behind his skeptical friends and doubtful family. Against all odds, he was able to find a building that was available for purchase in his budget. Along with help from a friend who was an interior designer, he created an inviting space where people could not only come to have a drink but also learn about the brewing process.

The way he wrote about the owner’s friends and family not believing in him sounded like he knew what it was like to be doubted, to be second-guessed. You sip from your glass while Dennis reads aloud, and you study him. 

He fidgets while he speaks, fingers smoothing over the keys until he uses the trackpad to scroll down to the next paragraph. While he scrolls, his tongue pokes out of his mouth to moisten his bottom lip. Now and then, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

He ends the story with some flowery words about overcoming odds, trusting your gut, and being your own biggest motivator. Had those words come from anyone else, you wouldn’t have believed them. But because you know what Dennis has gone through and have seen with your own eyes how he has persevered, you are drawn in by the words like a moth to a flame.

“So, come on. What is your honest opinion? I promise I won’t be offended,” he sighs, expecting the worst.

You’re unsure if you are drunk from the good wine or moved by his words. But instead of trying to figure it out, you drain your glass and set it on the coffee table. You then turn to Dennis and move his laptop to the coffee table as well; all the while he furrows his brow and waits to see what you’re up to.

You get up on your knees, move Dennis' clammy hands away from nervously rubbing his thighs, and climb onto his lap. His eyes widen, and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do as you invade his space. When you settle in straddling his legs, your hands go to his chest. You’re not surprised when firm pecs greet your palms or when a bulge twitches under your ass.

“Dennis, you are an amazing writer. I was hooked from the first sentence. I can tell how passionate you are about writing. Makes me wonder if you’re passionate like that in other areas,” you confess, licking your wine-stained lips and sliding your hands from his chest to rest on his shoulders.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deeply before speaking. “Th—thank you, sweetheart. I mean, it’s just a puff piece I was working on. You should see what Nathan comes up with; he’s already a junior editor, and—”

“Dennis?” You cut him off, covering his mouth with your forefinger in a ‘shhh’ gesture. “With all due respect, I don’t care what Nathan does. I’m complimenting you, and you will accept it. When I move my finger from your lips, you will say, ‘Thank you’ and we will move on, ok?”

He nods quickly, his glasses sliding down his nose a bit. You remove your finger from his lips and adjust his glasses for him. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his hands at his sides and aching to touch you.

“Good boy,” you tease, biting your lip in a devilish grin. You notice his breathing quicken. And was that a whimper? A pink hue dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and you realize he’s very much turned on. You are so mesmerized by how hot he looks that you are rendered speechless, allowing Dennis to take it the wrong way.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

This time, you cut off his words with a kiss. As soon as your mouths touch, you feel a slight flutter in your chest. It’s just a brush of lips, a fleeting second where you throw caution to the wind. But you’re convinced this is just the beginning.

Leaning back, you look into Dennis’ eyes. Searching for what, you don’t know. He lets out a breath, saying nothing while his hands remain at his sides. The moment stretches long enough that you begin to think that you fucked up.

You tremble, afraid that you may have crossed a line. “Fuck, I’m so sor—”

Now, it’s your turn to get cut off. His large hand raises to touch your cheek, his thumb on your lips. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, since that day at the block party. I can’t believe that you want me, too.”

Instead of responding, your hand grips his wrist, and you open your mouth to take the tip of his thumb between your lips. You suck on his thumb sinfully, watching as his pupils dilate. Swirling your tongue around his digit, you close your eyes and savor the little noises he makes.

As you let his thumb slip from your lips, you adjust yourself in his lap. The hardening length in his pants brushes against your ass. He hisses, a mixture of pleasure and pain on his face. You gyrate your hips slowly, setting a rhythm of teasing him before you lean in to nip and kiss his neck. 

His hands go to your waist, guiding you as you grind into him. “Is this ok, sweetheart?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur between the kisses you leave on his neck. 

His grip on you tightens momentarily, and he lets out a breathy groan. You feel his arms wrap around you, and he pulls you close, effectively stopping you from moving your hips any longer. Your arms encircle him, your hand tangling in his dishwater-blonde hair. 

You sit there, enveloped in each other until you realize Dennis just came in his pants. Lifting yourself, you spot the wet spot on his jeans. In place of feeling grossed out by the offensive patch of cum, you are even more aroused than you were while you rode his lap. You just made this man cum in his pants; you couldn’t be prouder.

“Good going, Dennis. You just came in your pants like a horny teenager. Maybe you do have a bad penis,” he says to himself, just loud enough for you to hear.

You ignore his negative self-talk and remove yourself from his grip, standing up before him. He looks so small as he sits there, and all you want to do is cuddle him like a hurt puppy. But rather than cuddle, you determine it’s your turn to cum with his help.

“Dennis, get up and follow me,” you order, already walking away. You hear his soft footfalls behind you, doing as he’s told.

Once you get to your bedroom, you sit at the edge of the bed and move yourself to lie back on your pillows. You instruct him to take off his jeans and lay next to you. He takes off all of his clothing, leaving his boxer briefs on to cover his softening cock.

When he is on the bed, he silently asks for permission to undress you by tucking his fingers in your bottoms. You nod, lying on your back, and he gets to work. Pulling down your leggings, he peppers your legs with kisses. With your pants off, he can see the small damp patch in your underwear and lets out a whimper. 

“Dennis, do you want to eat my pussy?” you hint, widening your legs.

“Yes, please, can I?” he pleads, smoothing a hand up your thigh.

“Finish undressing me and then lay down so I can ride that pretty face of yours,” you direct, smiling up at him as he hovers above you.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he replies, carefully helping you undress fully. He lays down, his head supported by one of your pillows. You face away from him, throwing one leg over his torso, scooting up until your vagina is just above his lips. “Take everything you need. Use me, sweetheart.”

Lowering yourself, you are met with his hot, wet mouth. He licks a stripe between your folds, splitting you down the middle. Once he gets to your soaked entrance, he laps up what nectar has accumulated there, moaning all the while. Your hands go to his abdomen to hold yourself up, marveling at how sculpted he is.

His hands grip your ass, opening you up so he can dive in further. The sloppy sounds of him slurping up your juices only serve to make you whimper and call out his name. He eats you out like it’s his dream come true, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

His tongue swirls around your clit then flicks up and down on the sensitive bead until you’re a moaning mess. Your eyes lose focus for a second, and when you regain sight, you notice his hardening length. You watch his cock bob as you let out a particularly breathy whine.

When he changes tactics and sucks on your clit, you keen like a cat in heat. You can feel yourself reaching the point of no return quicker than you thought possible. He moans into your sex when you lean forward and palm him through his boxer briefs. Your hand can barely fit around it, and the sight alone has you pressing yourself further into Dennis’ mouth.

He begins to pump into your hand as you rub your soaked pussy up and down his face, taking what you need just like he said you could. With the way his mouth slides across your snatch, you’re getting beard burn, and you couldn’t give two shits. You fuck yourself on his tongue, your clit stimulated by his bottom lip. 

Within a handful of minutes, you’re gushing into his mouth, and he is drinking you down until you have nothing left to give. He lazily presses kisses to your outer labia as you catch your breath. When you can’t take anymore, he helps you lie down next to him.

He wraps his arms around you, soothing a hand down your arm as you come down from your high. You come back to yourself once you feel his hard dick slightly pressing into your hip. You say nothing at first until you realize he’s canting his hips and humping into you like a horny puppy.

You reach for his erection, slipping your hand into his underwear and stroking him. The tighter your grip, the louder he groans. You turn slightly to face him and help him remove his last article of clothing. His uncut cock is heavy as it hangs between you. It looks pretty, and you bet it tastes good, too. Licking your lips, you dip your head and lick the bead of precum that leaks from his shiny red tip.

The whimper that leaves his mouth is too precious. You can tell that if you use your mouth on him, he is bound to blow sooner rather than later. You take pity on him and lay on your back again, throwing your leg over his hip. 

“Need you to fuck me, Dennis. Need you so bad,��� you beg, teasing his tip while it sits just under your heat.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t want you to feel pressured just because we’re naked in bed together,” he counters, courteous to a fault.

“I’m sure, Dennis. I want you. I need you,” you stress, pressing your hips into him.

“It’s okay. I’m right here, sweetheart,” he consoles, turning your head to capture your lips in a kiss. While you kiss, he pushes his tip between your folds, teasing your hole. He slips into your tight entrance, ramming forward until you take him in completely.

Letting you get used to the intrusion, he stills for a beat until you break the kiss. You nod, mutely imploring him to move. He gets the hint, pulling out until only his thick mushroom head is inside you before pushing back in. His grip around your waist tenses as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

Dragging moan after groan from you, he revels in the different noises you make. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as his dick is squeezed by your cunt with every thrust. He pecks your cheek and neck, littering your warm skin with kisses.

As he continues to cuddlefuck you, you’ve never felt safer in a lover’s arms. He periodically asks if you’re okay as if he’s afraid that any false move will have you running for the hills. You hum in approval every time, unsure if your voice can articulate how amazing he makes you feel.

“So good for me, sweetheart. You were made for me. Hmm, I can’t get enough of you. You’re perfect. Every fucking inch of you, sweetheart. Even the parts of you that I don’t know about. I needed this. Needed you, sweetheart. Do you know how beautiful you are?” He babbles as he gets lost pumping inside you.

“Oh, Dennis. Dennis, I’m gonna cum. That’s it, right there,” you ramble, feeling your walls clamp down around his shaft. Your back arches, allowing him to go impossibly deeper. You realize no one has ever made you cum like this, and you bask in the afterglow for as long as you can as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hips stuttering as he chases his release. “Right behind you, sweetheart. Ugh, I’m gonna cum. Where-”

“Don’t you dare fucking pull out! Wanna feel you,” you insist, your hand going to his ass to stop him from withdrawing.

“Fuck! Fuck, here it comes,” he howls, stilling his hips as his dick twitches and releases rope after rope of cum inside you. He cums so much that it starts to leak out past his thick meat. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m still cumming, sweetheart. Just keeps going. Oh, God.” You can still feel him spurting cum inside you, and you’re sure that if you weren’t on birth control, he would be impregnating you right now.

As his cock finally softens, it slips free from you along with some of his thick load. Both of you are so tired from your coupling that instead of cleaning up, you remove the comforter from the bed and climb under the sheets. Dennis is the big spoon, attaching himself to you once you press your ass into him.

You sleep soundly that night, lulled by his heartbeat against your back.

After a few months, you make it official. Dennis is yours, and you are his. Neither of you can get enough of each other, and keeping this secret has had its struggles. But together, you could get through anything. Dennis was moving up in his career as a writer, and you were proud to say you made leaps and bounds in your job.

Attending the neighborhood’s Halloween party together, you are dressed as Gomez and Morticia Adams. The way Dennis dotes on you, kissing you every chance he can get, it is the perfect costume. Plus, he looked adorable in that pin-striped suit with his hair slicked back. You were no slouch in your floor-length black long-sleeved fitted dress.

You get some looks and a few smiles as well. But when Dennis makes a bathroom run, you are approached by Mrs. Johnson. She hugs you and chuckles to herself before stepping back and patting your growing tummy. Your eyes widen, and you wonder how she could tell when Dennis didn’t even know.

“So, when can we expect the pitter-patter of little feet?” She inquires, a soft smile on her face.

“I go to the doctor on Tuesday to find out. How the hell did you know?” You challenge, crossing your arms to cover your belly.

“You thought you two were slick, sneaking back and forth to each other’s houses since the summer. Me and the girls have been watching the way you two interact. That’s the look of people in love. Plus, your tits are so big right now they look like you’re smuggling two Christmas hams in that bra,” she laughs again, rubbing your arm when you frown slightly. “Don’t worry, child. That man loves you more than he ever loved that hussy he was married to. Keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll soon be calling you ‘Mrs. Baker’.”

Dennis appears next to you, whisking you away to the dance floor. He twirls you around and makes you laugh with his terrible dance moves and goofy faces. Nothing makes him happier than making you happy, and vice versa. You two were truly made for each other, and nothing could separate you. 

But the best part? When you are about six months pregnant, you go grocery shopping, running into Dennis's ex-wife in the bread aisle. It's priceless to see the look of shock on her face when she realizes he's the father and your new husband. Life doesn’t get much better than that. 

Dear Life,

Thanks for the lemons!

Sincerely,

The Bakers

A/N: First time writing for Dennis, and I don’t think this will be that last. Please let me know what you think!! I hope you all enjoyed this nutty little story. Sorry for the lemon puns!

**Tag List**

@cevansbaby-dove @startcarvingdarling @iwudbutnah @thezombieprostitute @thabiddie23

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[imyourbratzdoll]

thank you for writing my last request, babe. it was really hot ❤‍🔥

so, how about dennis trying glory hole for the first time after his divorce. take your time to write this. also, can't wait for The Whore's Fairytale 🥹🥹🥹 i bet they are gonna be soooo perfect, like how you are 💙💙

thank you for sending it! I love when you request things! I hope you like this one! ugh, neither can I! dark fairytales are the best, hehe. and awwww, you are so perfect and the best. I love you x

summary - dennis has been feeling sexually frustrated after his divorce (not like he was getting anything whilst married anyway), but he decided to try out a new place that he overheard his colleagues talking about.

warning - smut, glory hole, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Dennis was nervous. He’d never done this before and felt self-conscious, but he could no longer handle his horniness. He felt like he was going to explode. Dennis had heard one of his colleagues talking about this place and thought, why should he deprive himself of pleasure? 

He looked up, ‘The Strawberry Shack’ neon sign flashed before his eyes. He gulped, walking into the place and smiling slightly at the woman in the front. He slides money to her before she gestures to the room where the women lie, some for blowjobs and some for sex. It was his to choose. Dennis slowly walked through, looking at the many legs and holes before finding the one. You.

Your soft silky legs hang as you lie on the other side. Your glistening cunt was open for any man to use. The sight itself made Dennis’s mouth water. He slowly walks closer, hands hesitantly sliding up your calves to your thighs. Your legs fall open to his touch, a soft moan falling from your lips as your pussy jumps, juices beginning to leak out.

Dennis grunts softly as his pants tighten, his cock swelling until he’s pushing against the zipper. His hand slowly moves toward your sopping cunt, and moans fall from the both of you as his fingers brush against your slit, finding their way to your swollen clit and rubbing it. Your hips twitch, your head flies back, and your eyes roll.

Dennis unzips his pants with his other hand, taking out his thick throbbing member. A raspy groan falls from his lips as his thumb swipes across his leaking tip, gathering his precum before wrapping his hand tightly around his base, stroking his cock and moving closer to your awaiting cunt. His vision nearly goes white when he places his tip against your warm hole, rubbing himself through your folds as he gathers your juices and uses it as lube.

He grips your thighs, pushing slowly into your tight hole. A moan escapes the both of you, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as your walls pulsate around him, gripping his cock as you suck him in. “Fuck!” His gruff voice sends shivers down your spine, causing your cunt to grip him like a vice. Dennis thrusts in, grunting as he holds back from cumming instantly. 

His hands rub your thigh soothingly, and his hips move back before thrusting back into your soaking cunt. His pace begins to pick up, and grunts and groans leave him as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbs, pounding harder and faster. His sexual frustrations catch up to him as he gets lost in the pleasure of you. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good!” Dennis grunts, feeling you tighten around him. “Never felt anything this good. Fuck, keep squeezing me, honey!”

You squeal, nails digging into your palms beside you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. One hand moves to your breast, squeezing it and playing with your nipples. Your sweet moans fill the box, causing Dennis’s cock to twitch inside you. You begin to rock your hips, needing to feel him deeper inside you. You need to feel him forever, and your mind goes blank. Your walls squeeze and pulse around him as he continues to hit your g spot, his fingers rubbing your swollen clit. Your back arches as you cum. Your juices were squirting out of you and covering the mysterious man.

Dennis groans, jaw clenching as he grips you tighter, his hips moving faster and harder as he pounds into you. His balls tighten, cock pulsing and throbbing as he twitches wildly. A rough moan falls from his puffy lips as he spills inside you. “Shit! Shit! Fuckkkk!” His hips stutter, balls emptying before he pulls out slowly. His fingers gently push inside you, thrusting and curling his cum deeper into you, his thumb rubbing your clit as you pant. 

Dennis leans down and places a soft kiss on your hip before he tucks his cock back into his pants. “Thanks, honey. I’ll be back for more.” He gives your leg one last rub before walking off with a skip in his step.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

I... ahh...I'm speechless.

You've made me totally into Dennis? What is this word sorcery? Wow. I'm glad there are sooo many chapters ahead for me.

Take Me Home - Part 4

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 6.3K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis's Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car. 18+ only, no minors.

*TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that's cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Four

Dennis can’t breathe when he looks at you so he keeps his eyes on the road for the short drive to the restaurant. Occasionally, he sneaks a glance at your legs, so smooth and soft looking, as you fiddle with the hem of your dress and pull it down towards your knees where it’s riding up. He fills the silence with Jax updates, telling you everything they’ve been up to in the days since he took him home. He knows he’s repeating himself—that you’ve heard a lot of it already through his text updates—but Jax is the thing you have in common and he doesn’t quite know what else to talk about.

Because he hasn’t been on a first date in over a decade, and he was never much good at it to begin with. Dennis didn’t have many girlfriends before he met his ex-wife, and when he did meet her, he’d felt so grateful that she even gave him the time of day that he let her take the lead in their relationship (and that continued throughout their marriage). Dennis doesn’t know why she married him—not anymore. He’d thought that she loved him (because why would you marry someone who you don’t love) but he sees now that she was only ever using him as a means to an end.

Dennis has family money; his ex was pretty much broke when they met. But she wanted so much more out of life than she could provide for herself—the big fancy house, the nice cars, the expensive clothes—and Dennis was happy to give her all of that and more. She didn’t want to work, and Dennis was ok with that. All he asked in return was for her to love him and be faithful to him, but she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) give him even that much. Of course, she pretended at first—to hook him, Dennis sees now; their sex life had been just fine for while, or so Dennis thought until the day she told him she’d been faking it for years and she no longer wanted a physical relationship with him.

Still, Dennis stayed, because he loved her (or the person he thought she was). She got progressively more cruel over the years—constantly reminding him how unsatisfied she was and how resentful she was to be “stuck with him.” For many years, it only made him try harder, but the constant gifts and affirmations of his love for her did nothing to fix the problem. He should have left when she started cheating, but by that point he was so totally broken down that he didn’t believe there was anyone else out there who could love him.

Dennis didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, so he tolerated things that no one should have to tolerate: constant verbal abuse, infidelity, even the occasional slap or shove when she was drunk. He never retaliated, never laid a hand on her or said a mean word. He just took all of it and ate it and shrunk into himself, walking through life like a zombie, just waiting for the next incident of cruelty and rage.

He’s been lonely since the divorce, but he’d decided that he’d rather be alone than spend another moment with her. He had no plans to start dating; he just wanted a companion so his house didn’t feel so empty. It’s why he went looking for a dog, but he found so much more than Jax at that adoption fair. In you, he found hope, and it fucking terrifies him, but as nervous and afraid as he is, it’s better than feeling dead inside. Trying and failing is better than not trying at all—at least that’s what his therapist says. As Dennis parks the car and looks over at your smiling face, he hopes to god that it’s true.

He wants to open the car door for you but you’re out and up before he can get over to the passenger side so he settles for opening the front door of the restaurant. He wants to be a gentleman, to treat you right, to show you that he’s worth a shot (even though he’s not sure that he is). He wants to place his hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, like he always sees happy couples do, but he doesn’t dare for fear that you’ll freeze at his touch. It’s too soon for something like that, he thinks; he hasn’t earned the right to touch you at all, especially not in such an intimate way. The last thing he wants to do is scare you off before you’ve even sat down for dinner.

Dennis is able to make it to your chair before you and pull it out for you, and you smile at him and thank him as you take your seat. As he settles into his own chair, his nerves are at an 11 and he puts his hands in his lap so you don’t see them shaking. He tries to remember what his therapist told him during their emergency phone session a few days prior.

We know that projecting confidence is an issue for you, but just be open and honest. Stay positive. Don’t talk badly about yourself. Make eye contact. If you find yourself rambling or going to a dark place, stop and ask her questions about herself. Show her you’re a good listener and interested in her and what she has to say. If you feel real panic setting in, take a bathroom break.

Dennis told himself he would have one drink, just to calm his nerves. Not that he drinks so much—and he’s cut back a lot since those dark days post-divorce when he was going through a six-pack a night—but he doesn’t know if you even drink and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself or make you feel uncomfortable. 

“I heard the sangria here is really good,” you say. “Do you like sangria?”

“I’m more of a beer guy,” Dennis replies. “Bourbon sometimes, but mostly just beer. Not very classy of me, I know.”

Dennis looks down at the drink menu and curses himself for already having screwed up the “no self-deprecating talk” rule his therapist had given him.

“There’s nothing wrong with beer,” you say. “I just drank way too much cheap beer in college and I can’t touch the stuff anymore.”

Dennis decides to order a bourbon cocktail instead of his usual IPA; he doesn’t want to taste like beer if by some miracle you let him kiss you. He can’t think about that yet, though. He’s getting ahead of himself. After the waiter takes the drink orders, Dennis focuses on the menu and you do the same.

“I, um, I didn’t know what kind of food you like,” you say nervously. “So I thought, you know, tapas… there’s something for everyone. I hope this is ok.”

“It’s great,” Dennis replies. “I’ve heard good things about this place. Do you… um… do you wanna, like, share stuff or-”

“Sure, yeah, if you want to, yeah.”

“Cool. I mean, you’re supposed to share tapas, right? That’s kind of part of the whole thing?”

“It is. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to if you want to.”

Dennis looks at you looking at him and then you laugh and he does, too. “One of us has to make a decision,” you say.

“OK,” Dennis replies, channeling as much authority as he can manage. “We’re sharing.”

The two of you pore over the menu, going through each thing, and it’s a process because each time you pick something, you insist on making sure that Dennis would like it. Dennis isn’t a particularly adventurous eater, but he’s willing to try anything that you want. The grilled octopus that strikes your fancy is one of the more terrifying choices, but he doesn’t let on that he’s put off.

“I’ve never had octopus,” he says, committed to the “open and honest” rule.

“Oh! Well it’s really good, but we don’t have to get it.”

“No,” Dennis says. “I want to try it. I, uh, want to start trying new things more.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, concern in your eyes. “I feel like I’m pressuring you into it.”

“We’re getting it,” he says. “And whatever else you want. I’m trying new things tonight. I’ve decided. So you just order for us, ok? I’m sure it’ll all be great.”

“Ok,” you say, and you smile softly at him.

Dennis forces himself to hold eye contact with you even though every cell in his body is screaming at him to look away. It’s so easy for him to get lost in your eyes, and he’s scared of getting flustered and saying the wrong thing. Luckily, the waiter shows up with the drinks and to take the food order before Dennis has the chance to fuck things up.

It’s hard for you to focus sitting across from Dennis with his shirtsleeves rolled up, his large veiny forearms dusted with hair just sitting there mesmerizing you. You tell yourself just be cool, calm, collected but it’s hard when you feel anything but. Part of you wishes he hadn’t dressed up for the occasion, that if he’d been sitting there in his trademark polo-khaki combo you’d be able to keep your shit together. But he just looks so damn sexy in his new clothes, and the fact that he went out of his way to go shopping for your date is making you feel some type of way, too. 

You force yourself to make eye contact and realize that Dennis has asked you a question you didn’t hear.

“Sorry,” you say. “I, uh, what did you say?”

“I asked you how long you’ve been working at the shelter.”

“Oh! Um, about 2 years now.”

“And you like it there?”

“I love it. I mean, it’s hard sometimes. The shit we see… it’s just horrible the level of cruelty some people are capable of. But, you know, the good parts outweigh the bad. How about you? How long have you been at P&W?”

“Not long,” he says. “About a year. I worked as a paralegal for a private firm before that.”

“Do you like what you do?” you ask.

Dennis pauses, because the “open and honest” rule and the “no negativity” rule are at odds with one another when it comes to this particular question. He decides on honesty.

“Not really. I mean, it’s fine. It’s a job. It’s not particularly interesting or gratifying—not like what you do.”

“Well what do you want to do?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink. “I mean, if you could do anything, what would you do?”

Dennis takes a second to think about it, trying to come up with some answer that would make him sound cool and interesting, but he opts for the truth again. “I don’t know,” he says. “I never really thought about it.”

“Really?” you ask, squinting a bit at him.

“Yeah. I guess I just always felt like a job is a job. You go to work, you come home, you collect your paycheck.”

“That’s fair,” you say. “But, so, what do you like to do outside work?”

Dennis takes a sip of his drink and swallows deep. “I, uh, well… I like to work out and run and hike and stuff.”

“Clearly.” The word comes out before you can stop it and you look down at your hands. You look back up at him and you can feel your skin flaming. “I, uh, it’s just… I mean, it’s pretty obvious that you exercise. You’re very… fit.”

You can tell you’ve embarrassed him and you silently curse the fact that apparently you have no fucking filter when this man is around.

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “I, uh, I like the endorphins, and I like being out in nature. I, um, I like to… uh… I garden sometimes. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” you reply, because it’s not weird. It’s very sexy, and now you’re thinking about Dennis all dirty and sweaty on his knees tilling the soil and you have to stop thinking about that immediately or you’re going to explode. “So what do you grow?”

“I have a little vegetable garden in the backyard. Just basic stuff—tomatoes, lettuce, bell peppers, green beans. I’ve got some herbs, too and, uh, some flowers—tulips and peonies mostly. I’ve been wanting to get into roses, too.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say. “I’d love to see it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” he replies, not meeting your eyes.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. I can barely keep a succulent alive so I’m incredibly impressed. How did you get into that?”

“I’ve just always loved nature. It, uh… it calms me. And my mom used to garden a lot and I would help her when I was little. Our whole backyard was filled with flowers and she had this beautiful rose garden.”

“Well I’m sure she can help you get yours started then,” you say, and you immediately know you’ve said the wrong thing when you see the pained look on Dennis’s face.

“She, uh, she passed away a few years ago.”

“Shit,” you say. “I’m so sorry, Dennis.”

“It’s ok,” he assures you with a gentle smile.

Your food comes to break the tension of your fuck-up and it smells so incredibly good that you almost forget that you just made this very nice man very sad because you’re a complete idiot who can’t keep her mouth shut. At least he likes the octopus, or if he doesn’t, he’s doing a very convincing job of faking it. Conversation mostly comes to a halt as the both of you devour your food. You were much hungrier than you even thought and it takes a while for you to even come up for air, but when you do start to slow down, you try to think of something to say that isn’t totally idiotic.

“This was all so good,” Dennis says. “Of course, I’m basically living on garden salads and pizza these days.” He stops himself and shakes his head a bit. “That’s embarrassing. I, uh, I just don’t really know much about cooking. I want to learn, though.”

“My ex was a chef,” you say, and your whole body tenses up and freezes when you hear the words come out of your mouth. “Uh, sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up. Forget I said that.”

Dennis smiles at you and it contains so much kindness that it almost puts you at ease. “It’s ok,” he says. “I’ve had to stop myself from mentioning my ex-wife like five times since we started dinner. Not that I want to talk about her, it’s just that it’s been the last 12 years of my life, you know? So, um, yeah. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Still,” you say. “I feel bad. I don’t want to talk about him or think about him, like, ever again.”

“I know the feeling,” he replies. “Believe me.”

You so desperately want to know more about what happened in Dennis’s marriage and how this sweet sexy guy ended up getting dumped but you know better than to ask. It’s too soon. He doesn’t owe you any explanations. But still, you can’t help but wonder if the answers to your questions might reveal some red flags about Dennis that you can’t see. You need to change the subject and fast, so you decide to pivot back to Jax—the one topic you know will put you back on track. But before you get a chance, Dennis excuses himself to go to the men’s room.

Fuck. You fucked up. You really fucked up. And it was going so well. You just had to open your stupid fucking mouth and bring up fucking Brad. You want to curse him for continuing to ruin your life, but this one is solidly on you. You grab your phone out of your purse and see several texts from Mal.

M: Sending you good first date vibes!

M: Must be going well since I haven’t heard from you :)

M: Badger and I are just chillin on the couch waiting for all the gory details.

M: I’m watching The Notebook and I’ve decided you need to be kissed ;)

You shoot her a quick emergency text and she gets back to you immediately, almost like she’s been waiting for your inevitable screw up.

Y: I fucked up. I think I ruined everything.

M: Calm down. What happened?

Y: I brought Brad up out of nowhere for no fucking reason and I think it made him super uncomfortable because he left to go to the bathroom and it’s been like 5 minutes. Do you think he left?

M: He didn’t leave. And whatever. You said he’s talked a little about his ex before. People have exes. Shit comes up. It’s not a big deal. Don’t turn it into a whole thing. How was it going before that?

Y: Good. Really good. He looks so fucking hot I feel like I’m gonna die.

M: Ummm pics pls.

Y: I didn’t just randomly take a picture of him. That would be crazy.

M: Just fucking sneak one I need to see now.

Y: Fuck. He’s coming back. Gotta go.

You pretend to still be texting but you sneak a picture of Dennis and shoot it off to Mal before putting your phone away. You must look like hell because when Dennis gets back to the table, he takes one look at you and asks, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I, uh, I was just checking in with my roommate. You know… dating in the 21st century… gotta make sure someone knows you’re not dead in a ditch or chained up in a basement somewhere.”

“Wait, that’s a thing women do? Like, you have a dating buddy system when you go out with someone?”

“Yeah, it’s a thing. Unfortunately.”

“Well that’s terrifying. I’m sorry you have to do that. I, uh, I’m not… like that.”

“Oh my God! No! I know that! It’s just a habit. It’s not like I even date much anyway.”

Dennis looks perplexed. “Really?”

“Yeah, I just… I don’t know. The whole online dating thing is kind of a nightmare and it’s hard to meet people when you’re at work all the time.” You smile at him. “But that’s where I met you, so…”

“I’m really happy I met you,” he says, and you feel like you could cry but you hold it together. “And I feel really lucky, because this is my first date in 12 years and it could have been with someone terrible but instead it’s with you. And I really really like you.”

“I really like you, too, Dennis.”

He reaches his big hand across the table and places it gently on top of yours, and you feel it absolutely everywhere. Somehow it both relaxes your body and makes you tense up, but only in certain places—for example, your thighs, which you have to squeeze together because the simple act of a man’s warm hand sitting atop yours is enough to have you throbbing. God, it’s been so fucking long, and you find yourself wishing that you could put yourself into Mal’s body and mind and do what she would do: lean over the table, pushing up her cleavage in the most obvious way, and whisper, “Wanna get out of here?”

Instead, you gently pull your hand away and ask him if he wants dessert even though you’re stuffed.

“I can’t eat another bite,” he says, “but if you want it…”

“No,” you reply. “I’m stuffed, too. I just…”

You trail off, because you can’t bring yourself so say what you want to say, which is that you don’t want the night to end yet.

When the bill comes, you go for your wallet but Dennis snatches up the check and says, “Not a chance,” and you know it’s pointless to argue (and you don’t want to anyway) so you thank him kindly for dinner.

Dennis’s heart is pounding out of his chest when he signs the check. He can hear it in his ears and he thinks it’s so damn loud you must be able to hear it, too. He doesn’t want the night to end; he wants to ask you if you want to grab a drink—not that he wants another or wants you to keep drinking for any nefarious reason, but because he just wants to spend more time with you. Asking you to come over to his place is out of the question for several reasons, not just the Jax situation but the fact that he’s not trying to make any assumptions about what you may or may not be willing to do on the first date. Besides, even if you did want to go home with him, he’s not ready for that. He wants it, oh sweet Christ does he want it, but he knows there’s no faster way to put an end to things than for you to realize right away that he’ll never be able to satisfy you.

It’s unfair of him, he thinks, to lead you on like this—to make you think he’s somebody he’s not. As he walks with you to his car, he contemplates ending things right now, before he has a chance to disappoint you. He had an amazing time with you, and he doesn’t know where he found the courage to tell you how much he likes you, but apparently you feel the same way. In the moment, it had felt incredible—like one of his many dreams of you come true—but the closer he gets to dropping you off at your car, it’s somehow so much worse that you actually like him. If it had gone terribly, it would be easy for Dennis to walk away. You would make the choice for him, and he would carry on as he has been for months—learning how to be happy alone. But now he has a choice to make: does he keep seeing you, get more invested, fall even harder for you and let you fall for him, when he knows it’s bound to end in disaster, or does he just stop it now, when it will hurt less?

“Dennis?” you say, and he realizes that he’s been parked next to your car and staring off into space for who knows how long. “Are you ok?”

He doesn’t know what to do and he’s starting to panic again, just like he did in the restaurant when he had to take his bathroom breather to calm himself down. But now he has nowhere to run and hide; you’re right there, sitting in his passenger seat with your brow furrowed and he knows he has to say something. He takes a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to tell you that he’s sorry but he just can’t do this, but then you reach out and take his hand.

“Talk to me,” you plead, and Dennis lets out the breath he’d been holding.

“I, uh, I just… I had a really nice time.”

“Me too.”

Be open, Dennis. Be honest.

“I’m just nervous,” he says, turning to you. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You smile and give his hand a little squeeze. “It’s ok. Neither do I.”

The fact that Dennis is clearly as nervous (if not more so) than you puts your mind at ease. You’d spent the car ride back from the restaurant in silence, just the sounds of the Classic rock station in the background as you wondered what comes next. It didn’t help that, after receiving the picture of Dennis you’d sent, Mal had responded with a series of increasingly lewd and aggressive texts telling you all the things you need to let Dennis do to you. The texts had make you smile, but they did nothing to calm your nerves. Because you want him to kiss you. Hell, you want him to do more than kiss you, but the vibe on the ride to your car was decidedly different than the one you got at dinner. You didn’t know what you did in between then and now to make him so uncomfortable, but you needed to know, so you decided to just straight-up ask.

And it worked, because now Dennis is being honest with you about the way he feels—telling you that it’s nothing you did, that you’re amazing and perfect and so fucking pretty that it’s hard for him to believe that you’re actually interested in him. You don’t understand where all his insecurities are coming from; you’d thought you made it very clear that you’re attracted to him and that you very much like him, but you tell yourself that you’re really not one to talk when it comes to those type of feelings. After all, you can’t take a compliment. You have to hide your face behind your hands when he compliments you, force yourself not to argue with him that you are none of those nice things he says you are.

But while your mind is fighting him, your body is not. As he speaks, you find yourself leaning across the console to be closer to him. You feel the heat coming off is body and the woody scent of his cologne fills your nose. You want him to kiss you so desperately but you can’t make the first move, so you wait—your face just a few inches from his—and you hope he feels the same pull that you do.

His leg is bouncing and you can see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead and you think to yourself—I’m too close, I’ve crossed the line—but when he turns to face you, he swallows deep and asks, his voice shaky, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you whisper.

He brings his lips to yours slowly, and even though it’s a chaste kiss—all lips, no tongue—you feel it from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. You taste the smoky bourbon on his breath and the warmth of his palm sears your skin as he cradles your face and runs his thumb across the apple of your cheek, his other hand resting gently on your hip. The way he’s touching you so timidly—like you’re something he might break—has you ready to explode. You want to feel his big strong hands everywhere, and when you grab the back of his neck and deepen the kiss, he squeezes the flesh of your hip just enough to make you moan into his mouth.

He pulls away, concern in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, and you smile and shake your head no, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. 

You take a moment to drink in his face, pushing an errant piece of hair out of his eyes his cheeks flushed and pupils blown and that bottom lip of his so plump and pink you simply can’t help yourself. You grab him by the collar of his button down and kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and taking a little nibble, and that’s when he absolutely loses it. He pulls away just long enough to take his glasses off and toss them on top of the dashboard before he dives back into the kiss, moving his hand down to take a handful of your ass and squeezing it hard as he brings his other hand around the back of your neck and pulls you closer. You’re fisting his shirt so tight in both hands you start to feel guilty about wrecking it and you want to feel those biceps anyway so you bring one hand to the nape of his neck as you wrap your other hand around his massive arm. Of course, you can’t get it all the way around—not nearly— so you find the strongest meatiest part of it and grip it tight.

It feels heavenly to be kissed like this after so long. You can feel his desire for you in every swipe of his tongue and hear it in every sigh and moan you pull out of him. He’s got you going crazy—too crazy, because before you even know what you’re doing, you’re throwing a leg over him and climbing into his lap. Your dress has ridden all the way up to your hips and you know your panties are on full display but you don’t care, and when you adjust yourself to get a little more comfortable, you feel it—he’s rock hard underneath you and holy fuck it feels big but before you get a chance to absorb that information, he grabs your hips and pushes you down his thighs.

“Wait,” he says, and you instantly feel guilty for having pounced on him without his consent.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I just-”

“No,” he says, “don’t apologize. It’s just…” Dennis looks down at the bulge in his pants and back up to you. “It’s embarrassing.”

You cock your head to the side. “What’s embarassing?”

He squeezes his eyes closed and speaks through gritted teeth. “I… I’m, you know.”

“Hard?” you ask, and he nods.

You laugh because the fact that he thinks it’s anything shameful—that the fact that he could get hard just from kissing you is anything other than a total turn-on—is absolutely ridiculous.

“Dennis,” you say, taking his face in your hands. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s really fucking hot, actually. And I… I’m so…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it out loud, that you’re so wet your panties are practically glued to your body, so you decide to show instead of tell. You take his hand and gently guide it between your legs so that he can feel your slick leaking through the fabric, and when his fingers graze the cotton, he gasps and his whole body shudders,

“Oh fuck,” he says, looking up at you with eyes so innocent and sweet. “Is that because of me?” he asks and you don’t understand how he could possibly even need to ask that question.

You lean forward, ghosting his earlobe with your lips as you whisper, “Yes.”

You try to shimmy up his legs, to get closer to him, but still he resists.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, because you know he wants you. You can feel it and you can see it, but something is holding him back.

“Nothing,” he says, but you don’t believe him.

“Talk to me,” you plead. “Just tell me.”

“It’s just…” He trails off and looks down to where your bodies are connected as he huffs out a deep breath before looking back up at you. “You’re so… god, you’re so fucking gorgeous and you feel so good and I just… I don’t want to ruin it.”

You still don’t understand but you assure him that he’s not going to ruin anything, and this time when you move closer to him, he lets you.

“Please keep kissing me,” you beg. “You’re such a good kisser. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

“Really?” he asks. “It… it felt good?”

“So fucking good. I need more. Please, Dennis.”

He gives you a soft smile as you take his face in your hands and open your mouth to him, and when he wraps his arms around your back you can feel just how strong he is. You can’t help it; your absolutely throbbing for him and you need some contact to ease the ache between your thighs. You get close enough to grind on the bulge in his pants—now somehow even bigger than before, which you didn’t think was even possible. You moan into his mouth when you find the perfect angle, you start to roll your hip on top of him.

Suddenly he pulls out of this kiss. “Fuck fuck fuck wait I… I’m gonna…” 

You feel his hips jerk beneath you and he whimpers against your neck and you gasp when you feel feel the warm wet spot against your thigh.

“Goddammit,” he shouts, so loud that it startles you, and he won’t look at you, just hangs his head with his forehead resting against your breastbone. “I’m sorry.”

“Dennis,” you say, gently tugging on his hair to force him to look you in the eyes. “What are you sorry for?”

“I couldn’t… fuck… I couldn’t stop it. I tried not to but you just… you’re so… fuck.” He pushes you down his legs and tries to cover the wet spot with his hands. “I made a mess. I don’t want to get it on you.”

You have to giggle because you’re so fucking turned on that you’re about two second from taking his pants down and licking him clean, but you realize by the look on his face that he thinks you’re laughing at him.

“Oh my God, no. I’m not… it’s fine. It’s better than fine.”

“No it’s not,” he says, and he sounds so dejected that you just want to hug him and kiss him—anything to make him feel better.

“Dennis, look at me,” you demand. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot it is that I could make you cum just from kissing you and touching you? Do you know how good that makes me feel?”

“I… I made you feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” you say. “And you can make me feel even better if you just relax and let me make an even bigger mess.”

“I don’t-”

“Shh,” you say, pressing your finger to his lips.

You slide back up his legs and position yourself over his thigh, grabbing his hands and putting them on your hips before placing them on his shoulders to balance yourself. You can feel the hard muscle tense against your core as you grind yourself on him, and he stares at you with his mouth open.

“You feel so good,” you moan, and he grips your hips harder, panting as he pushes and pulls you in time with the pace you’ve set.

He says, “You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” and just that one little comment is almost enough to make you cum. “Can I touch you? Please let me touch you.”

“Yes,” you whine, “please.”

The second you give him permission, his big hands are kneading your breasts through the fabric of your dress. You don’t let yourself think about what happens if he pulls it down and sees one of the many parts of yourself that you want to hide from him. You can’t think about it, because you’re so fucking close and his thumbs circling your pebbled nipples are sending shockwaves through your body. God you want so badly to feel his skin on your skin, feel his mouth on you, but you’re afraid it’ll ruin things and you just want to cum—you need to cum. You’ve never needed to cum so bad in your life.

He leaves the fabric in place, though. He doesn’t try to expose you or push the fabric of your panties to the side as you ride his thigh. He just lets his hands roam all over your body, only daring to reach up under your skirt and grab your ass over the fabric as he watches you come undone on top of him. You feel him getting hard again and it sends you over the edge.

“Oh God. Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

And then you do and you dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders as you press your forehead to his. You feel yourself soaking his pants underneath you—his and hers wet spots staining the fabric of his brand new slacks—and he runs his hands up and down your back as you shudder through the last few aftershocks.

Neither of you speak for a while, the only sounds in the car your heavy breathing until you bring your lips to his and give him a gentle kiss. He’s still hard beneath you, and when you bring your lips to his neck and peppering it with kisses he shudders and moans and tells you to stop.

“Sweetheart, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna lose it again.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” you ask. “I mean, you’re still hard. I can… you know… take care of it… if you want.”

“No,” he says, but not unkindly. “You don’t have to do that. It’ll go away, I just… I might need you to get off me.”

You laugh and crawl back into the passenger seat. You would absolutely suck the soul out of this man if that’s what he wanted—and blowjobs are the one department where you feel 100% confident—but if he’s content to let it go away on its own, you don’t want to push him. Besides, you’ve gone far further already than you thought you would, but you don’t regret it. You feel fucking fantastic actually, and you hope he feels the same. You decide you need to ask him, to make sure you’re on the same page.

“Dennis?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you… uh… was that ok?”

He turns to you with a dopey smile on his face. “It was better than ok. Did… uh… did you think it was ok?”

You smile and grab his hand and give it a little squeeze. “It was amazing, and we should do it again very very soon.”

“Anytime you want,” he replies.

“How about this weekend?” you ask, pulling the skirt of your dress down. “I’d love to come over and see Jax and I think it’s been enough time that he should be ok.”

“He’d love that,” Dennis replies. “I would, too.” He pauses for a moment and swallows deep. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“This was the best night I’ve had in… I don’t even know… maybe ever.”

“Me too,” you say, and when you give him a final kiss goodnight, you know you truly mean it.

PART FIVE >>>

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Chris Evans Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Chris Evans works, arranged by character and type of work.

Series

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing) - Lloyd is a minor character.

Challenges

Pretty As A Picture - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader - What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Requests

Power Play: After Hours - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader - What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

A Duke and His Duchess - Explicit - Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader - The night takes a dark turn when you are harassed at the club, but Lloyd comes to your rescue.

Headcanons

Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

What happens when the reader starts dressing to match Lloyd?

Interesting quirk (an ask I submitted to stargazingfangirl18)

Events

Daddy Dearest | Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Oxytocin - Explicit - Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC - At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

One-Shots

Don’t Take Your Eyes Off It - Explicit - Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader - It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Requests

No Good Deeds - Explicit - Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader - Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Events

Do It For Daddy | Jake Jensen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Sweet Redemption - Explicit - Dennis Baker x Female!Reader - You move into the neighborhood and meet Dennis Baker, a man in the middle of a divorce. Trying to keep yourself honest, you keep him at a distance. But you’re drawn together after a mishap online. Will it end sweetly or on a sour note?

Headcanons

“Don’t run from me” Dennis x Wifey (facesitting)

Brunch with the family (slice of life)

Late night on the beach with Wifey

Ass worship

Nicknames and height

Panty sniffing?

Running into the ex-wife in the grocery store

Dennis comforting Wifey after a long, stressful day

how Dennis finds out that Wifey is pregnant

Dennis' zodiac sign

Does Dennis' wife like to be spanked during sex?

Is Dennis a horndog?

What are Dennis and Wifey's love languages?

Do Dennis and Wifey share nudes?

Drabbles

Dennis tells you about his and his ex-wife's fight on the day you met

Dennis comforts Wifey after her day doesn't go as planned (slice of life)

Dennis being the most capable father and husband (slice of life)

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

Dennis Baker (DENNIS)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

[littlelioncub-library]

Strong Connection Detected

Summary: You and Dennis have been friends for quite some time now. When you invite him over to help set up your new router, you can’t help but notice how hot your shy little friend is.

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Soft dom!Reader, sub!Dennis, pet names (Angel, sweetheart, Den, etc.), Dennis is touch starved, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, mentions of titty fucking, Reader likes Dennis with his glasses on, Dennis gets pussy whipped instantly.

Word count: 3,830

A/N: I am in a mood for Dennis, so I think the next few fics I write will be ones for him. Or Jefferson. Or Justin Capshaw. We’ll see! Hehe I feel pretty good about this one, I wasn’t while I was starting it, but after looking it over and editing it a bit, I really like it. The world needs more Dennis Baker smut. He’s pathetic and needs a good, solid fucking. I no longer do a tag list! If you want to be notified when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library and turn on the notifications. I love you all!

Kisses 💋

—K

“How’s it going, Den?” You ask from your spot on the couch.

“Almost done,” Dennis mumbles in concentration. He’d been saying the same thing for over half an hour.

You sigh and watch as Dennis pieces your new internet router together. The new machine was far too complex for you to figure out yourself, but when you told Dennis about it he insisted he set it up for you. “Those guys overcharge for installation anyway.” You’d been friends with Dennis for nearly 2 years now, you met at work shortly after his wife left him. He was friendly, a bit on the shy side but always had a nice thing to say, if he ever spoke at all. It took you about 6 months to get him to say more than 15 words to you at the office, but you were nothing if not a patient woman.

Dennis liked that about you; everyone was always trying to rush him; to speak, to get things done, to get out of their way, to sign the divorce papers—but not you. You let him take his time, hell, you even smiled at him when he took more than 40 seconds to stutter out a simple ‘good morning.’ Thankfully as the years rolled on, he got more comfortable with you. Sure, he still stutters like crazy when you stand a little too close or caress his arm while you talk, but, hey, it’s an improvement.

You watch as his large hands skillfully piece together the black box, and you can’t help but admire the thick arms he hides underneath gaudy polo shirts. Your eyes flicker up to his face, his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his eyes steely as he focuses, his tongue peeking out. It should be illegal to be this buff and this cute. You bite your lip softly as your thighs begin to rub together, your skin beginning to heat underneath your short floral dress (Dennis’ favorite). You let your eyes continue to wander his body, his thick, muscular thighs are spread as he sits comfortably next to you, and you can’t help but wonder what they would feel like against your naked pus—

“Are you ok?” His concerned words bring you out of your filthy thoughts.  

“Hm? Yeah, why?” You swallow thickly as the tingling between your legs gets stronger. He watches with a slightly nervous gaze as you slowly shift closer to him, your legs pressed against his.

“You were just…” he trails off when your hand curls around his bicep, your hands were always so soft, he swallows thickly.

“I was what, Den?” Your voice drops into a huskier tone almost on its own, the way he reacts to the lightest touches makes you want to tease him more—so you do. Your hand pulls away from his bicep to rest innocently on his inner thigh, the muscle jumping underneath the beige khakis he wore.

“A-Ah!” He squeaks, his eyes wide in shock, he didn’t know what you were doing but he was certain he was going to snap the plastic he held in his hands if you kept going. You smirk at his little noise and bring your other hand to rub his back soothingly.

“Are you ok?” You repeat his words in that sultry tone and Dennis is surprised he hasn’t cum in his pants yet. Your eyes catch sight of the sizable tent straining at his zipper and fight off a moan of your own. As soon as Dennis realizes you see his not-so-little problem, he immediately goes to cover himself with both hands, his face as red as a tomato.

“I-I, I’m sorry!” He rushes out, ready to hear you make fun of him or call him a pervert or kick him out, but instead he feels your gentle hand cover his own, tenderly rubbing backs of his hands and slowly peeling them away from his crotch.

“You don’t have to apologize, Den,” your voice is calm and soothing, as soon as you rest his hands on his knees, you gently hook your finger under his chin, turning him to face you. As frightened and embarrassed as he is, Dennis does as you want him to. The moment your eyes lock, his breathing begins to deepen; there was a lustful darkness taking over your gorgeous eyes, it made the fire in his belly burn even hotter.

“Is this ok?” You ask as your hand returns to his inner thigh, this time stroking the length of his knee, inching closer and closer to the aching bulge between his legs. He almost chokes on his words when he feels you rub his thigh, your question nearly going over his head completely.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he repeats breathlessly as he nods dumbly, his eyes stuck on yours. You smile softly at his consent and finally cup him through his pants, the hardness beneath your palm had you biting your lip. “O-Oh god!” He whimpers under his breath, his pretty eyes fluttering shut as you hold him in your hand.

Finally, your hand begins to move, the grind of your palm into his cock sends Dennis’ mind spinning. It’s been so long since someone touched him, he’s been single ever since his divorce and even before then his ex-wife hardly looked at him let alone touched him. He’d grown so accustomed to the feeling of his own hand that he forgot how good it felt to be touched by someone else.

“Dennis,” you repeat again softly, he let himself get so carried away in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear you call his name. He opens his eyes again, desperation and worry written all over his face. The way he got so caught up in the pleasure just your hand gave him made you hungry for more. Your nose brushes against his as you lean in closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“Fuck, p-please,” he whimpers again, his eyes sliding shut again as you kiss him. You sigh happily against his lips, the way he immediately submitted to you was everything you dreamed of. His lips were soft and shy, afraid to go too far but still hungry for any shred of kindness you offered. When your tongue licked at the seam of his lips, his hips surged forward into your hand on instinct. Your grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly, pulling a sharp gasp from the timid man next to you. Sliding your tongue into his parted mouth, you moaned at the taste of him; mint toothpaste and the chocolate muffin you gave him as a snack an hour before.

You both lose yourselves in the kiss, each one intensifying with each passing moment. You sink your teeth into his swollen bottom lip, drawing a shaky moan from the back of his throat. Suddenly you slide from your spot next to him, making him pout, his lips ready to begin pouring pleas and apologies. When you settle yourself on the floor in between his spread thighs, Dennis couldn’t help but curse. He wanted to commit the scene before him to memory: your beautiful eyes looking up at him while you kneel for him.

“Now, Den,” you speak softly, you were just as breathless as he was, except you were half drunk with power, you trail both hands up his inner thighs, sending shivers through his body, “tell me what you want me to do.”

“Fuck,” he curses again as he tries to find the words but his brain is damn near useless right now. You smirk as you watch him scramble to speak, you knew he was shy, so you relished in his reactions. “I want… I want you…”

“You want me to what, Dennis?” Your tone is encouraging and reassuring, that alone is enough to make Dennis’ heart beat erratically. He let out a frustrated noise as he tried to regain some composure. “Want me to touch you?”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers, “I want-want you to do whatever you want…”

His cute answer makes you smile at him, you bring your lips to his again, rewarding him for his good answer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, chasing your sweet lips.

“You wanna know what I wanna do to you, Dennis?” You ask slowly in between sweet kisses, “I wanna suck your cock,” he moans at your words, “and then ride you nice and hard, make you feel so fucking good, until you cum inside me… you want that?”

“Yes! Yes—fuck!—yes!” He gushes out as you begin to unbutton his pants, eager to get your mouth on him. The sound of his zipper being pulled down suddenly snapped him out of his desperate haze. “Wait!” He called, his hands holding your wrists still. You look up at him, your hands stopped in their tracks.

“Something wrong, Den?” You ask as he licks his lips, you could tell he was looking for the right words to say, “Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” you say sincerely with a sweet, soft smile. When he didn’t say anything for a few moments, you smiled a little wider and started to get up from your spot between his knees, “we could jus—“

“No!” He exclaims a little louder than he intended, a sheepish, apologetic smile gracing his lips, “sorry, no, please, I-I don’t want you to stop. It’s just,” He took a deep breath, his eyes looking down at the floor, “I haven’t been w-with anyone since my div-divorce and, uh, my ex-wife, she said that my, um, my penis was… was bad…” He waited for the cruel laughter, the mocking words, a scoff—something. But instead, you tilted his chin up to look at you, he found your gentle expression and a warmth in your eyes that he’s never seen before.

“I’m sure she said many other cruel, untrue things to you, Dennis,” you push a hand through his hair, caressing the side of his face as you speak, “things you didn’t deserve. Let me show you what you deserve, Angel. Hm?”

Dennis gives you a shy nod and you all but devour his lips, your movements are strong and determined, it leaves him scrambling to take it all yet yearning for more. This time he doesn’t stop you when you pull his zipper down, your hands pulling down his pants and boxers to his mid thigh in one go. With your tongue sliding sensually against his, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, your fingers hardly able to touch. Dennis whimpers loudly into the kiss, his mouth hanging open as you massage his shaft. You sigh at the weight of him in your palm and pull back to look at him. You drool when you see the monster between his thighs; a wide, angry red tip atop a long veiny shaft that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

“Holy shit, Den,” you moan in awe and give his cock a stroke, licking your lips as a bead of precum coats your fingers, “you’ve got such a big cock, can’t fucking wait to feel you splitting me open,” you ramble, your feral gaze locked on his tip, watching as more precum oozes from his hole. “Fucking hell…”

“Oh! Oh fuck!” He cries out, his head falling back against the couch as your lips wrap around his tip, your tongue greedily lapping up the salty precum as your hand jerks him off. You moan around him as you begin to move, taking more and more of him into your mouth with each eager bob of your head. Dennis’ thighs shake beside your head, his whole body strumming and thrashing with pleasure. He’s never had anyone go down on him before so this was a whole new experience to him. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Large hands grip the back of your head, guiding you lower and lower down his length each time. You take a deep breath through your nose, relax your throat and take him as deep as you possibly can. His toes curl in his socks when he feels himself breech your throat, his length suddenly disappearing into your hot, wet mouth. A confused but wanton moan flying from his mouth as you swallow him down, the grip in your hair tightening to the point of pain. You manage to fit most of him down your throat, your hand jerking the last inch or two that can’t fit in your throat yet.

The noises Dennis makes leaves you absolutely dripping, your hips grinding into nothing with need, your panties were definitely ruined. Your eyes sting with tears and drool coats your chin, but you love it too much to care. He looks the part of a debauched mess; his skin dewey with sweat, his lips parted and red from your sloppy kisses, and his face contorted as the painful bliss that he’s never known before overwhelms him. It’s doing wonders for your confidence.

“I-I, I’m gonna cum!” He sobs between the fat tears that roll down his face, your mouth suddenly pulling off of him with a wet pop. A heartbroken whine of your name leaves his lips but your spit covered mouth silences him with a sloppy kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue as you shut him up in the best way possible.

“I want you to cum in my pussy, Den, not my mouth,” you mumble against him lips, gripping the collar of his pink polo shirt, you tug him to his feet. He sways a bit, the edging making it hard for him to stand straight as you lead him to your bedroom. Wasting no time, you shut the door and push him to the neatly made bed and crawl up the length of his body, settling in his lap. “Undress me, Dennis, please?”

You didn’t need to ask him again. He sits up quickly, his shaky but eager hands are quick to unzip your dress and yank it over your head, tossing it to the floor behind you. Dennis never thought he would ever be here, laying on your bed with you in his lap, begging him to strip you naked. Yet here he was, staring at your bare breasts; he was positive he was drooling but he couldn’t think hard enough to care. “You’re so…beautiful…”

Your shy giggle made him smile softly. “Touch me, Den,” You guide his hands to the swell of your chest, and Dennis is sure that he’ll never be able to go a day without feeling your pillowy soft tits in his hand. He moans and massages the tender flesh passionately, leaning down to suck on your hard nipples, your hand gripping the back of his head.

“So soft,” he mutters in amazement against your sensitive nipple.

“O-Oh fuck, yes, that’s it, so fucking good…” Your soft moans and praises leave Dennis ravenous, he switches between your breasts, making sure to give each one equal attention. He feels your hand tug at his polo and he reluctantly pulls back to help you take it off, pushing his pants and boxers off completely too. You sit back and shimmy out of your ruined panties, giving Dennis a show as you slowly peel the wet fabric from the juncture of your thighs. He whimpers with need and a drooling mouth when he sees a string of your arousal cling to your underwear before breaking and coating your thighs. But before he could get his mouth on you, you push him on his back. A grin finds a way across your face, the sight had Dennis’ stomach doing flips and his own shy smile tugging at his lips. He’s about to take his glasses off but you’re not having it.

“No, leave them on,” You grin as he nods and lowers his hands, “you’re always so cute, Den,” you muse as you crawl over him once more, slowly lowering your naked pussy to his cock.

“Ah-haaaah!” He groans, his eyes open wide to watch as your lips drape around his girth. You moan at his noises and begin to rock back and forth, letting your slick leak down his shaft. “Please, please, Sweetheart, please,” he gasps, his hands on your hips to help you grind on him.

“Please, what, Den?” You smirk and run your hands across his chest teasingly. He shivers violently, his eyes falling shut for a moment before pleading up at you.

“Need to be inside you, please— o-or I’m gonna cum like this,” he begged. He sounded so sweet when he begged for you like this, you ‘ll have to be sure to make him do it more often. You listen to him chant ‘please’ under his breath as he fights off his high, your grinding was quickly unravelling him.

“You wanna be inside me, Den?” You lift up on your knees, rubbing his tip through your soft petals. He nods frantically, muttering ‘yes’ over and over, his eyes glued to the spot between your legs. “You’ve been so good for me, always been so good… I think you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Yes, please!” He sobs, his hands now balling up your bedsheets, he’d say anything to get you to sit on his cock right now. Thankfully, he said the magic words. You slowly let gravity pull you down, your tight little hole stretching around him perfectly. Inch by inch you take him in, the hot, wet feeling of your walls finally wrapped around his cock has Dennis speechless, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he’s certain that his heart stopped beating. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” He moans wantonly.

“Ohhh fuck, yes, Dennis!” You gasp as you finally take the last inch, your bodies finally connected. Another wave of pride washes over you when you see the fucked out expression on Dennis’ face. The way his eyes crossed before closing made you feel like a fucking Goddess. You give yourself a moment to relish the burning stretch of his cock nestled deep in your cunt. You’re about to start riding him when his large, surprisingly strong hands grip your waist in a bruising hold, keeping you still.

“Not yet, not yet, please, God, not yet,” he babbles on in a strained voice, his whole body tense and trembling with pleasure as he forces himself back from the edge. You pout but stay still until the rapid rise and fall of his chest calmed down a bit. This time when he tries to hold you in place, you swat his hands away and begin to bounce in his lap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Oh my God, Den, I can feel you in my fucking stomach,” you moan and speed up, the pleasure his cock provides was quickly becoming addictive and you were jonesing for more. At your words he lets out a high pitched whimper, his eyes wanting to fall shut but he fights to keep them open. He was mesmerized by your body, how his cock seemed to just barely fit inside you, and then your tits—he could watch them bounce in time with your filthy movements for the rest of his life and never get bored. You catch him staring and smirk, bringing his hands to your chest again. Dennis feels how the supple flesh jiggles each time you throw yourself down on his cock. “You like my tits, baby?” You moan when his thumbs rub circles over your nipples.

“Yes, holy fuck, I love them, they’re fucking perfect, so fucking perfect,” he whines as you lean into him, smothering his face in your chest. He’s quick to latch on to your nipple, his arms wound tightly around your middle and his mouth sinful and dirty, his body reacting on pure instinct now. Your pace quickens as he sucks harshly at your tit, his hips rising to meet yours.

“Next time, I’ll let you fuck them,” you whisper huskily in his ear, his body tensing and a loud sob leaving his swollen lips at the thought, “you like that? You imagining fucking my tits, Den? Putting your fat cock between ‘em, pushing them together, and fucking them until you’re coming all over me?”

You knew what your dirty talk was doing to him, each word pushed him closer and closer to his high, which he was desperately trying to postpone. He wanted this to last forever, he wasn’t sure if this was just a one time thing but at the mention of there being a ‘next time,’ Dennis can’t help but fuck into you faster and harder, his hands crawling at your skin with blunt nails. The feeling of your tight cunt milking him for all he’s worth is addictive, then your filthy words and sinful promises only bring him right to the edge. It was all building, and soon it was too much for him to stand.

“Ahh! Oh my God, I’m coming! I’m coming!” He suddenly cries, his eyes wide in shock as he empties himself inside you, those strong thigh muscles tense and shake in time with his short, panicked thrusts. You moan as you feel the heat of his seed fill your womb, the seemingly endless ropes of cum keep coming and coming until he drips out of you. The strangled cries and moans of the man beneath you tell you that you’ve done your job— Dennis Baker was completely ruined. You smirk as he comes down, his hips stalling out as he goes lax under you. “Holy fuuuuuck!” He groaned in a trembling voice, his chest heaving. You chuckle at his fucked out voice.

“How are you feeling, Den? Feelin’ good?” You ask while you catch your own breath, petting his messy hair. He hums and nods, his eyes heavy and he relaxes.

“I feel… God, I-I never felt this way before,” he slurs, and looks up at you with a dopey love-sick smile, one that you can’t help but return. His smile drops as his face twists in worry, “you didn’t finish,” you can see the disappointment in his eyes, “I’m sorry, you just—I just, I couldn’t stop it, I—“

“Shhh, it’s ok, Den,” you soothe with a mischievous smile and wink. Dennis looks up at you in awe, thanking whatever higher power made him the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet. When you started to grind on his hypersensitive cock, his whole body jolted at the sharp sting of sensitivity that shot through him, his back bowing off the bed as he groans, his hands trying to hold you still again.

“Aaaaah! Fuck!” He shouts as you give him gentle little bounces. You lower your mouth to his neck, softly kissing and biting the exposed skin there.

“You can make it up to me this round.”

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated 💖

I no longer have a taglist! If you want to be notified when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library and turn on the notifications!

Dividers made by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ellethespaceunicorn]

OMG DO I FUCKING LIKE DENNIS???

Yes, your honor. I love this man. Lol. Fantastic job. This was so hot.

Title: Baby Luv 

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Reader

Word Count: 5,436

Summary: After a divorce and many, many unsuccessful hook-ups, Dennis Baker has finally reached rock bottom. Out of options and desperate for connection, he creates an account on Searching Arrangement, where the only thing stopping women from spending time with him is his bank account.

 Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Fucking Dennis is it’s own warning quite frankly, Sub-Dennis, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, fluff

A/N: so uh, this is my entry for my own Triple D challenge, lmao. tagging @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ in my new Dennis the menace obsession lmao. i thought of a sweet, subby Dennis who probably hasn’t been having the best of luck since his divorce. i really hope everyone enjoys and doesn’t hate me too much for this haha. i think it ended up being pretty fun! divider by @whimsicalrogers​!

This is a work of FICTION, and there will be ADULT themes and content included therein, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!

💋

 Gorgeous.

 Dennis suddenly feels inadequate in his pink polo and khakis, and he grips the bouquet tighter as you approach. Your dress looks so lovely on you, and your eyes light up when you see him. You give a shy little wave as you stop in front of the table, and he scrambles to his feet. 

 “Dennis?” You ask, and he nods quickly. 

 “N-nice to meet you.” He holds out the flowers. Your smile is dazzling, and he’s star struck for a moment as you take the bouquet gingerly from his hands. 

  “These are lovely! Are they for me?” You say, holding the flowers up to your nose as you peek at him over the top of it. “You didn’t have to do that.” Your delight at the small gesture seems real, and you place them carefully down on the table so the rose petals won’t bruise.

 “I-I wanted to.” He says, and a beat of silence passes between you. 

 “Should we sit?” You ask, and he nods, dropping back down into his seat. You slide into the booth across from him, and you give him another sweet smile. It makes his chest ache. 

Keep reading

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐫𝐢 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

��𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐀𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭

𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐚

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐖𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐞

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[flannelfiction]

Remember Your Breathing

Chapter One Part Two

You can totes read this on my AO3 @ jenkinzram

"Owner of a green '99 neon?" Dean calls out. An alpha with a small rut scent like he just finished stands, he's immediately flaring his nose slightly. He's probably nineteen or twenty given his looks and has a black dress shirt with dark jeans and black tennis shoes on. This should be fun. Dean thinks as the guy approaches him. "You have an issue with your wheel bearing and tire rod on your back right tire and -"

"Get me someone who knows what they're doing," the man cuts Dean off. "How is an omega supposed to know how to fix anything. All I've seen you do is run around and talk to some other guy working on the Impala." He starts to get up in his face as Dean towers over him.

"Sir," the malice in Dean's voice makes the man back up a step and let out a fear scent as though a top alpha challenged him. "That man is being taught by me on how to properly take apart and clean every piece of an engine, he'd be nowhere without me there. Other than the owner, I'm the most qualified here to work on your car. I assure you, I know what I'm doing. I'm Dean Winchester from the article framed next to the service counter who won a country wide contest for people ages eighteen to thirty for classic car restoration last year. Back the fuck off.

"Now listen to me this time, alright?" Dean quit standing as tall so the guy would know he wouldn't be attacked just yet. "Wheel bearing and tie rod on your rear right tire are going, and you have a leak of oil somewhere in your car that I haven't looked that much into yet."

Bobby approaches the man from the door to the main entrance, "And I suggest you get that fixed some where after we finish your oil change. Don't you ever come back here."

"You guys won't fix it?" The man looked to Bobby now. "Y'all are the best mechanics this side of town." He looked genuinely worried now, realizing he picked a fight with someone he really shouldn't of. "You have to, I have money."

"And?" Bobby looked to Dean now. "Do you want to work on this fool's car?"

"He backed off," Dean shrugs. "Calm down, Bobby. Money is money, and he can come back tomorrow when we have time. Today is no good since there's other people who made appointments." He looks pointedly at the alpha, "I suggest you wise up and don't make a fool out of yourself anymore. Car will be down for you in ten, I have an opening to work on a car at one thirty and five tomorrow."

"Five works best for me," the defeated alpha answers, no longer scenting of anything as he controls himself. His gaze averted submissively from Dean.

"Cool, go wait outside for your car. I'll have Jo bring it around for you." Dean dismisses him with a wave of his hand while going back into the shop. Ash was at the door, looking worried. "Hey, you ain't done yet," Dean smirks, "Go back to work, everything's fine."

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Dean managed to hit all green lights on his way back and arrived at the house at the same time as the guy who lived next to him. They often talked out on the communal balcony while Dean ate something that the fella wanted him to try. "Hey Dean," the slightly shorter man waved as he hopped out of his old Jeep.

"Hey, uh, Benny?" Dean waves while hoping he got the nice guy's name right. By the smile the bulky alpha had, the name was right. Benny was different, most alphas in the house had already made a weird pass at him just to test Dean's waters. Benny never did that, just treated him like he was any other person. He figured the alpha in him made it so Dean was always Benny's taste tester. But maybe Benny was just that way; the man oozed southern hospitality.

"Doing anything tonight?" Benny yawns slightly. "I finally don't have to work tonight and wanted to see if you wanted to try the new rendition of seafood gumbo I made yesterday." His blue eyes are accented by sleep deprived bags under his eyes. Unusual for Dean, but something about Benny had him already worrying over him like a close friend.

"You got a night off, why don't you sleep and I try it in the morning before work? Or later on tonight after you at least take a nap?" Dean raises his eyebrows slightly in worry while he smiles at Benny. "Or if you want, you could nap at my apartment for an hour or two so I can wake you up?" They've done that before when Benny wanted to make dinner for Dean on one of his days off.

Somehow in the small amount of time that Dean has known Benny (only about three months) he's already comfortable around the southern man. "That sounds good." Benny smiles and yawns widely as he starts to follow Dean up the stairs along the side of the building to their communal balcony. The stairs were the private entrance to both of their apartments since the large balcony was really just the roof of the owner's sunroom. There was another balcony above theirs where the studio apartment residents shared a slightly smaller balcony. But it made the balcony Dean and Benny shared the perfect space to garden on. Perfect sun exposure but cover from heavy rains that could flood the pots.

Once in Dean's apartment, Benny sat down in his usual recliner. Almost instantly, he was out like a light. Inwardly laughing to himself as he grabbed the crochet blanket Ellen gave him off the back of the couch and covered Benny with it. Must've been a bakery day of work since Benny is this tired. Benny has two jobs, fitness trainer at a gym and working at a bakery. They work him like a slave at the bakery, making him lift all the heavy stuff and stock.

Deciding to take a shower, Dean walks over to his room and grabs a clean set of clothes before going into the shower. It works like a charm to soothe his muscles that were aching from working from seven in the morning to nine at night. Thankfully, he doesn't go into work until noon tomorrow. Which means he'll probably be entertaining Benny until he leaves for work.

As he works a small amount of conditioner into his hair, he debates asking Bobby for tomorrow off. He really hasn't taken a day off since January because he's been working on cars. Ash can catch the guy's appointment at five or Dean could just come in and do that one. He doesn't have any other appointments that day, just said it to piss the alpha off a bit. Plus, the owner of the '64 doesn't know his car could be ready by Friday. He still has until April first since its only the middle of March...

He decides to text Bobby after his shower for the day off.

[littlelioncub43]

I miss Dennis and being able to write.

Without a Doubt

Summary: You fuck Dennis’ brains out and he says something that he didn’t mean to say. 

Pairing: Sub!Dennis Baker x Soft dom!fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), unprotected sex, dumbification, Dennis slips deep into his sub space, dirty talk, Dennis is a screamer, creampie, slight breathplay(??? Dennis holds his breath to make himself cum harder), passing out, idiots in love, Reader being a wonderful dom and taking care of Dennis. 

Word count: 1,674

A/N: I am in love with this little AU I have created. They are sluts in love and jeepers are they the cutest. I hope you guys like this! Let me know what you think about it! Send me an ask about them— I literally think about them all day so I need to talk about them or I’m gonna burst. Anyhooters! I got some more little fics planned out for these two nymphos, but let me know who else I should write for! I’d love to hear back from you guys! Flight attendants prepare for cross check and all call. 

Kisses💋 

—K

“O-Ohmyyygoooooood,” Dennis slurred as you slowly lowered yourself back on to his aching cock for what felt like the millionth time. He lost track of how long you’d been fucking him, but he was certain that you’d been at this for hours (and you had). You smirked proudly at his dazed expression and moaned as your needy cunt was once again stretched out around him. Running your hands up his sides, you pressed them into his heaving chest. The action sent a chill up Dennis’ spine, his own hands moving to grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. 

“Oh, Angel, did I break you?” You tease softly while caressing his flushed cheek. He looked broken; his mouth was hung open as he gasped for air, a small line of drool slid down his cheek and into his scruff, those beautiful eyes that you love so much were unfocused as he stared up at the bedroom ceiling dumbly. You liked him like this; so blissed out that he can’t even think.

“Hm?” You prompt again gently and squeeze your walls around him, earning a strangled gasp. He blinks a few times to come back to himself, his head felt like it was spinning like a top so he had to work extra hard to think of an answer. The best he can do is a sloppy nod and a crooked smile, one that you can’t help but return. “Aw, can’t speak, Den? I fucked you stupid, didn’t I, baby?”

Keep reading

[ao3feed-13reasonswhy]

GOODBYE ▹ thirteen reasons why

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2P3ziYv

by fandomlover727

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀 | ❝ how the hell am i supposed to move on? i was barely dealing with jeff's death and now hannah's gone too! ❞

  𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

    【 thirteen reasons why seasons 1 - 3 】 【 format by @NASASTAN 】

Words: 804, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 13 Reasons Why (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Clay Jensen, Clay Jensen's Parents, Hannah Baker, Andy Baker, Olivia Baker (13 Reasons Why), Jessica Davis, Jeff Atkins, Justin Foley, Justin Foley's Parents, Bryce Walker, Nora Walker, Alex Standall, Alex Standall's Parents, Zach Dempsey, Tyler Down, Kevin Porter (13 Reasons Why), Montgomery de la Cruz, Lainie Jensen, Matt Jensen, Courtney Crimsen, Ryan Shaver, Sheri Holland, Marcus Cole (13 Reasons Why), Tony Padilla, Skye Miller, Gary Bolan, Kat (13 Reasons Why), Dennis Vasquez, Barry Walker, Chloe Rice, Cyrus (13 Reasons Why TV), Mackenzie (13 Reasons Why), Sonya Struhl, Caleb (13 Reasons Why TV), Scott Reed, Priya Singh, Amorowat "Ani" Achola, Charlie St. George, Casey Ford, Luke Holliday, Winston Williams, Sheriff Diaz

Relationships: Jeff Atkins/Original Female Character(s), The Jensens (13 Reasons Why) & Original Female Character(s), Hannah Baker & Original Female Character(s), Justin Foley & Original Female Character(s), Justin Foley & Clay Jensen & Original Female Character(s), Hannah Baker/Clay Jensen, Amorowat "Ani" Achola/Clay Jensen, Jessica Davis/Justin Foley, Jessica Davis/Alex Standall, Hannah Baker/Justin Foley, Hannah Baker/Zach Dempsey, Caleb/Tony Padilla, Justin Foley & The Jensens, Hannah Baker/Bryce Walker, Jessica Davis/Bryce Walker, Zach Dempsey/Chloe Rice, Chloe Rice/Bryce Walker, Tyler Down/Mackenzie, Montgomery de la Cruz/Winston Williams, Montgomery de la Cruz/Tyler Down, Clay Jensen/Skye Miller, Brad/Tony Padilla, Tony Padilla/Ryan Shaver

Additional Tags: Car Accidents, Abuse, Adoption, Drug Use, Rape, Rape Recovery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Angst, Suicide Attempt, Suicide, Suicide Notes, High School, Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Depression, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Murder, Bullying, Confessions, Secret Crush, Sad, Crimes & Criminals, Dreams and Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Education, Triggers, Warnings May Change, Family, Foster Care, Feels, Male-Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female Character of Color, Brother-Sister Relationships, Past Sexual Abuse, Attempted Sexual Assault, Past Abuse, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Mystery, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Weapons, LGBTQ Themes, Loss, Non-Consensual, Party, School Shootings, Protectiveness, Protective Clay Jensen, Clay Jensen Needs a Hug, Oblivious Clay Jensen, Hannah Baker is Dead, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Justin Foley Needs a Hug, Protective Justin Foley, Hurt Justin Foley, Creepy Bryce Walker, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Fanfiction, Wakes & Funerals, Teenagers, Teenage Drama, Protective Tony Padilla

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2P3ziYv

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Baby Luv 

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Reader

Word Count: 5,436

Summary: After a divorce and many, many unsuccessful hook-ups, Dennis Baker has finally reached rock bottom. Out of options and desperate for connection, he creates an account on Searching Arrangement, where the only thing stopping women from spending time with him is his bank account.

 Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Fucking Dennis is it’s own warning quite frankly, Sub-Dennis, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, fluff

A/N: so uh, this is my entry for my own Triple D challenge, lmao. tagging @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ in my new Dennis the menace obsession lmao. i thought of a sweet, subby Dennis who probably hasn’t been having the best of luck since his divorce. i really hope everyone enjoys and doesn’t hate me too much for this haha. i think it ended up being pretty fun! divider by @whimsicalrogers​!

This is a work of FICTION, and there will be ADULT themes and content included therein, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!

💋

 Gorgeous.

 Dennis suddenly feels inadequate in his pink polo and khakis, and he grips the bouquet tighter as you approach. Your dress looks so lovely on you, and your eyes light up when you see him. You give a shy little wave as you stop in front of the table, and he scrambles to his feet. 

 “Dennis?” You ask, and he nods quickly. 

 “N-nice to meet you.” He holds out the flowers. Your smile is dazzling, and he’s star struck for a moment as you take the bouquet gingerly from his hands. 

  “These are lovely! Are they for me?” You say, holding the flowers up to your nose as you peek at him over the top of it. “You didn’t have to do that.” Your delight at the small gesture seems real, and you place them carefully down on the table so the rose petals won’t bruise.

 “I-I wanted to.” He says, and a beat of silence passes between you. 

 “Should we sit?” You ask, and he nods, dropping back down into his seat. You slide into the booth across from him, and you give him another sweet smile. It makes his chest ache. 

 “You…you look just like your pictures.” He blurts the words out clumsily, and you raise a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound of your laughter. You do, though—the same beautiful face, and the curves of your body which your dress does little to hide. He’d liked your profile as soon as he’d come across it. You weren’t vapid and greedy like so many of the other women he’d spoken to, you took time to describe your interests as well as listen to his. 

 You were the whole package. 

 “Thanks,” you say, your eyes bright. “I’m not very good at photo editing,” You take a sip of your water, your perfectly manicured nails clinking against the glass. “You don’t look like yours.” Dennis’ stomach drops, and he opens his mouth to protest, but you speak again before he has the chance to. “You’re even  more handsome in person.” You wink at him. His chest tightens, and Dennis feels his face go hot. 

 “T-thank you.” He looks down at his hands. This is always where it goes wrong. He hadn’t had much trouble talking to you through a screen, but sitting in front of you in person was… intimidating. He gestures around a little awkwardly. “I, um. I remembered you liked sushi, so…” 

 “Thank you, I noticed that! I’ve been dying to come here and haven’t had the opportunity,” your voice turns a little mournful. “I’m so happy you invited me!” 

 On your profile, you’d listed several of your interests, your likes, your dislikes. Even that you wanted kids one day. He’d wanted to sigh at your perfection. He supposed the only real drawback was that he would have to pay you four thousand dollars a month to spend even a few minutes of your time with him. 

 “I’m sure you’ve been to way nicer places,” Dennis laments. “I hope it’s okay.” 

 “It’s wonderful.” You reach across the table to stroke the back of his hand comfortingly with your fingers, and it feels so genuine that his chest goes tight again. “Seriously, I’ve heard amazing things.” You lean back in your seat. “So… what kind of things do you like to do when you’re not programming robots?”

 His cheeks burn. “I d-don’t program robots, exactly. Just software, and—” The tinkle of your laughter makes him stop. 

 “I know you don’t program robots, silly.” 

 He adjusts his glasses nervously before continuing. “But I like, um. Video games, you know, we talked about that.” Your eyes light up in recognition. 

 “Oh yeah! You couldn’t pick your favorite.” You tease. “I stand firm in my opinion that Portal 2 is the best shooter ever made.” You cross your arms under your breasts and fix him with a coy smile. “And no, you can’t change my mind.” He laughs in spite of his nerves. 

 “I’m a, um, a DOOM fan,” he replies. “Love the, the classics.” A waiter comes by, and Dennis manages not to fumble the order. He can’t stop staring at you as you brush a perfectly coiled lock of hair behind your shoulder. His heart is practically beating out of his chest. You’re so funny and easy to talk to, but he keeps screwing up the words, overthinking them. 

 “You look beautiful,” the words come up like vomit, unstoppable as he tastes them on his tongue. “Your dress is really really pretty.” Your eyes brighten as you smile. The way you preen under his praise is cute, endearing. 

 “Thank you, Dennis. I bought it for tonight.” You don’t say you bought it for him, but the slight, saucy little lilt your voice takes on implies it. His neck prickles as he briefly wonders what you’re wearing underneath it, and if he’ll get to see. 

 How much it’ll cost. 

 “Y-you did?” 

 “Mmhmm.” You nod. “I wanted it to be…” you pause, as if looking for the right word. “Special.” Oh fuck.

 “It feels special. With you,” he adds. You giggle, and raise a hand to your cheek as you look away bashfully. He wants this to be real so badly.

 “You’re sweet.” 

 The appetizers come out along with the sake, and after a cup or two, he’s feeling a little more confident. He asks you about work, and you say you’re employed at a little mom and pop shop on the other side of town. The conversation peters out as the entrees come. 

 “So, um. I…” He gathers his courage as you expertly break apart your chopsticks. “I wanted to um, maybe talk business?” Dennis doesn’t mean to phrase it as a question, but that’s how it comes out. He almost apologizes for it, but your little laugh cuts him short. 

 “Of course,” you say, cocking your head at him as you fix him with a small smile. “Business before pleasure, right?” You clack your chopsticks together expertly before popping a piece of a roll into your mouth. 

 “R-right.” He looks down at his hands and then back up to your expectant face. “You’ve, um, you’ve done this, uh… before?” Dennis asks, leaning in a little conspiratorially. “Had a, um…” He trails off. Sugar daddy seems like such a crass thing to call himself, and unlike so many of the other men on the website, he’s not twenty years your senior.

 You nod, patting your lips with a napkin to catch any stray crumbs. “I’ve had patrons before, yes.” You answer honestly. “I think it would help if maybe you told me a little more about, you know, what you’re looking for.” Dennis must look as lost as he feels because you reach across the table to squeeze his hand with a comforting smile. “Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite.” You wink. “That costs extra.” 

 He chokes out a laugh. “I, well… my wife, I had a wife,” he corrects himself, his throat tightening at the memory. “But it ended, um. A year ago.” He only just stopped wearing his ring when he started talking to you—but he leaves that part out. Your eyes stray to the empty skin of his left ring finger anyway, and Dennis self-consciously covers the fading indent. 

 “I see. I’m really sorry to hear that, Dennis.”

 “A-and I’ve never done anything l-like this before,” he mumbles, twisting his napkin in his lap. “But I’m trying to, um, get back out there.” He peeks up at you, terrified he’ll see how bored you are, but instead you look… interested. You’re nodding and actively listening, and it isn’t like with Kate at all where he had to fight for every iota of attention she deigned to give him—no, you look like you actually want  to be there.

 Yeah, stupid, you’re paying her for it, Dennis thinks to himself hurriedly. 

 “Are you looking for something long term? Or do you just need a date to a few events?” You ask gently, and his face reddens. 

 “I, er, I mean, I had hoped long term,” he stammers, adjusting his glasses nervously. “U-unless that’s not something you, uh, offer?” 

 “Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I prefer it, actually. And exclusivity?” It seems like such a simple question, but it makes his head spin. “As in, would you like to be my only patron at this time?” 

 “Yes!” He knows he says it too fast, too harsh, but he doesn’t want to share, even if it means extra money. “Yes,” he repeats, his face hot with embarrassment. “I want it to be exclusive.” He doesn’t want to think about you leaving his apartment only to whisper the exact same sweet nothings in another man’s ear. At least if he has to pay for the privilege of your time, he doesn’t want to have to share it with someone else. 

 “Okay, then,” you say, nodding. “Then I guess all that’s left is the nitty gritty,” you toy with a strand of your hair. “In my past… relationships,” you emphasize the word, “I had a firm monthly allowance of five grand a month, but neither of those was exclusive,” you explain. “I think six thousand is fair, don’t you?” When you fix him with those wide, bright eyes, that small sweet little smile on your plump lips, Dennis nods without thinking, his lips slightly parted as he watches you place another bite of sushi into your pert mouth. 

 He makes good money at the IT company, probably a little more than his fair share—it’s not like he can’t afford it, right? 

 “O-okay,” he agrees, his heart leaping as you smile again. “So that, um, that means, we can go out? Like on dates, and stuff,” he fumbles the words again, looking down at his own untouched plates. Your laugh makes his already warm cheeks even hotter. 

 “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now, Dennis?” You tease, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. His palms are sweaty as he rubs them against the crisp, starched material of his khakis. “Going out on a date?” Your sweet smile turns a little sly as the tip of your pump grazes his calf. “And stuff?” He nearly chokes on his drink as he downs it in a single gulp, the alcohol burning warmly in his throat. 

 “Y-yes, I mean, m-more. Dates.”

 You giggle. “Of course, silly.” You take a sip of your own. “Have you been on many dates since…?” you take a sip of your martini, and gesture to the waiter to bring him another, too. 

 “N-no,” he shakes his head, his lips pressing into a grim, dissatisfied line. “I, uh…I don’t have good luck with um, with women.” The frames of his glasses click as he adjusts them again, fidgeting. 

 “What? That can’t be true,” you scoff. “I bet women are lining up around the block for you.” You squeeze his muscular bicep, and he gives you a furious shake of his head. Women have never lined up for anything he has to offer. 

 “No, not really…” Maybe it’s the alcohol making him brave—or stupid—but he bites his lip. “My wife, she said, well…” He leans closer, not wanting anyone to overhear his shame. “I have, um… you know, a bad penis.” 

 Your eyebrows rocket up your face, and you cover your mouth to try and stifle the ungainly snort that erupts from you. His head snaps up, and you give him an apologetic little grin.

 “Sorry, I… I’ve never heard that one before,” you admit. “A… bad penis?”  You look confused, your eyes narrowed and your pretty mouth drawn into a pout. Dennis nods, to embarrassed to say anything. “Dennis, I’m sorry she said that to you,” you say, but he only shakes his head again. “I’m sure nothing’s wrong with your equipment,” you add, flashing him a reassuring smile and a wink. 

 The server comes back to clear the table, and Dennis asks for the check. He wants to ask you back to his place for drinks—he won’t hope for more than that, not tonight. He places his card down into the little foldable book containing the bill while you watch, your chin resting daintily in the palm of your hand. He glances up at you, and you flutter thick lashes at him. 

 “Um, I was thinking, maybe you would like to get a, um, a drink. With me.” He almost drops the book as he places it face up on the table. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand—”

 “I would love to get a nightcap with you, Dennis.”

 Your heels click against the pavement as he walks you to his car, his hand shoved awkwardly into his pockets. He’s not sure if it’s too familiar to drape his arm across your shoulder or around your hips. When he offers you his hand to help you down into the passenger seat you accept it, and he can’t help but marvel at how butter soft your skin is.

 Dennis almost drops the keys as he tries to slide effortlessly into the driver’s seat but you don’t make fun of his nervousness or drop any snide comments, not the way Kate would have. He still lives in the house they shared, though most anything that reminds him of her is already gone. It’s fairly sparsely decorated, but you find something nice to say anyway as he takes your coat. 

 “I know it’s a lot of, um, you know, white walls,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 “That’s okay,” you reply brightly. “Lots of space for new things, right?” He leads you down the hall to the kitchen, and pauses in front of the liquor cabinet.  Dennis isn’t much of a drinker, and most of what’s there has been since before Kate left. He isn’t expecting the warm pass of your hand over his back as you lean in next to him. You’re so close, and you smell so good he has to stop himself from leaning in to get another lungful. 

 “Hmm,” you run your fingers lightly over the bottles, before selecting one, holding it up for him to see. “I love a good whiskey, myself,” you say, fixing him with a sly smile. “What about you?” 

 “Whiskey’s good,” he says quickly, nodding. “I have… ice? Do you want ice?” He fishes out a couple of glasses, and then goes to the fridge for ice. When he turns back around, you’ve already filled them halfway. You drop the ice carefully into both tumblers, swirling it around a little before handing it to him. “T-thank you.” You drink in silence for a few minutes, before you put your glass down with a sharp clink against the table. 

 “I um, I had a good time tonight,” Dennis says shyly, draining his own glass with a grimace. You’re sitting next to him at the island, so close he can feel the heat of your thigh against his own. 

 “I did too,” you say, reaching over to squeeze his hand. You trail your fingers up and down the exposed flesh of his forearm, and even that small touch is enough to send blood rushing down to his cock. Dennis drains the rest of his whiskey in a thirsty gulp. He doesn’t know what to do next, what to say. 

 “I can, um, I can take you home when you’re—when you’re ready,” he mumbles. You cock your head at him, raising an eyebrow.

 “Do you want me to go home, Dennis?” You ask innocently, and he almost drops the tumbler from his suddenly shaking fingers. He doesn’t, God, he really fucking doesn’t—“Because I’ll go home if you want.” 

 “What happens if you go home?” His question floats quietly in the air between you, and you smile. 

 “I call an uber. I text you when I get home. You pay my allowance, we set up another date, and we go from there.” You say simply. “if you choose not to pay it, we don’t see each other again.” Dennis likes how decisive you are, how you lay things out calmly, simply. “You want to know what happens if I stay?” He licks his lips. 

 “Yes.” The hand you’re resting on his arm drags up his chest and you cup his chin. 

 “I know you do.” Your thumb traces over his bottom lip. “If I stay, you pay my allowance…” you trail off, waiting for him to take the bait, which he does without hesitation. 

 “A-and?”

 “And then you get to see what your money pays for.” Your perfume is soft with a citrus-y, floral tint, and it fills his nostrils when you lean closer. Dennis is hypnotized, and he knows he couldn’t move even if his life depended on it as you brush your silk-soft lips against his own. He moans against your mouth, and you giggle, your hand softly stroking his chest through his polo. When you pull away his breath hitches as your fingers tickle beneath his chin.

 “Do you want me to stay?” 

 “God yes,” he breathes. “Yes please.” Dennis reaches clumsily for his phone, going straight to his banking app to initiate the transfer. All the while, he’s acutely aware of the heat of your palm through his khakis, and the little shapes you draw on the naked skin of his arm. He glances up at you nervously, and you give him a reassuring smile. 

 “C-can I see you, now?” He asks shyly, his half-hard cock throbbing in his pants as your smile turns lascivious. You don’t answer, instead you stand up straight, your hands plucking at the stringy bow holding the top of your dress shut. Slowly, teasingly, you pull the halves of your dress apart, exposing inch after luscious inch of smooth skin. He doesn’t realize he’s gripping the sides of his stool hard enough to bruise until the wood squeaks in his grasp and he releases it. 

 The fabric falls with a whisper to the tile floor, leaving you bare except for the lacy black thong adorning your hips, and the suede pumps on your feet. Dennis’ mouth goes dry as he watches you trace circles around your swelling nipples while you cup your breasts.

 “Is this what you wanted?” His mouth won’t cooperate to form an answer, so he just nods. He reaches a hesitant hand toward you, and when you don’t stop him, he cups your breast, running the rough pad of his thumb reverently over your nipple. Your teeth sink beautifully into the plump weight of your lower lip when he does it again. Your skin is so soft and supple beneath his hands, Dennis doesn’t want to stop touching you. 

 He lets out a surprised moan as you palm his cock though his pants, his hips bucking toward your hand. He squeezes the flesh of your hip, and you let out a breathy laugh. You hook a finger underneath the thin strap of your panties, snapping it against your skin. 

 “You want to take these off?” You ask, and Dennis nods hurriedly. You lift yourself onto the island behind you, and he stands between your thighs, watching as you inch the fabric down them. 

 “I want to touch you,” he says softly, his hands flexing on your thighs as he tries hard to wait for your permission. You reach up, carding your hand through his soft blond hair as you bring his face close to yours. Your breath ghosts gently across his face as you whisper—

 “Say please.” 

 “Please.” The plea leaves his lips, and for a moment he thinks you’re going to say no—

 “Good boy.” 

 Dennis presses himself between your thighs until the counter forces him to stop, his hands tracing greedily over every bit of you he can reach as he pushes his face into the side of your throat mumbling how gorgeous you are, how perfect, how much he wants you. He can feel your fingers deftly undoing the button on his pants, and Dennis moans raggedly as you wrap soft fingers around his cock, swiping your thumb across his leaking tip through the cotton of his underwear.

 “You want me, don’t you Dennis?” You coo, and he nods desperately. “Show me.” He wants to worship you—and maybe that’s too much too soon, but fuck it he does. Dennis trails reverent kisses down your throat, between the valley of your breasts. You lean back as he goes, resting on your elbows as his tongue dips into your belly button. 

 You’re spread out in front of him so deliciously, your soft thighs laying open to expose the soft, slick petals of your pussy. He runs an admiring finger up your damp slit, and your answering moan makes his cock throb hotly. He repeats the motion, before leaning down to lave his tongue against your folds. Your fingers tangle in his hair as your hips buck forward to meet his face. 

 Fuck, you taste good—peach sweet, warm and sticky. Dennis is lapping at you like a man possessed, and fuck, maybe he is, because he’s never felt like this before, wanted to please someone else so much. 

 “Mmm, fuck,” you hiss, tugging on his hair as you grind your pussy against his face. His tongue finds the swollen pearl of your clit, and you gasp. “You’re so good at this,” you praise, and Dennis feels pleasurable warmth gather in his chest. “Fuck, fuck, shit—” He presses at your tight entrance with one finger, circling it before sinking it in to the knuckle. You keen, your thighs trembling. 

 “M’so close,” your whiny little moan almost makes him bust right there in his khakis. “Fu-ck, good boy, Dennis, so good—ah—” He can feel the slick, velvet walls of your cunt squeezing around his finger like a vice as the evidence of your release coats his chin. You release his hair, your nails scratching pleasantly against his scalp.

 He’s so hard it hurts, his cock rock hard and leaking as it throbs against his stomach. Dennis wipes at his mouth as you sit up, drawing one finger down the side of his face. 

 “You made me feel so good, sweetheart,” you praise, and he finds it hard not to preen at your softly uttered words. With a gentle tug on his chin, you drag Dennis’ face back up to yours, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He whimpers into your mouth as your knee grazes his cock, and you giggle. “You want to cum, don’t you Dennis?” You ask innocently, reaching into his briefs to finally touch his cock. You drag your hand up and down his length, already soaked with precum. 

 “Fuck, yes, God, please,” he moans. He knows he should be embarrassed by his own neediness, but he can’t think about that now, not when you’re stroking his cock confidently in one hand, looking at him like you own him. Shit, maybe you do. 

 “Go sit down on the couch.” 

 He practically throws himself down onto the cushions, and watches from across the room as you slide down from the island, your heels clicking against the tile. He watches you gather up your dress, dust it off and lay it over the island, before you turn and slowly make your way over to him. Your stride is slow and confident, like you know he’d wait for you for as long as it takes—and you’re not wrong. 

 Your hips sway as you approach him, and the only sound louder than the echo of your footfalls has to be his heartbeat. You come to a full stop in front of him, and his breath hitches as you kneel between his legs. He fights the anxious urge to cover his cock, to hide it from you. 

 “You know, Dennis,” you say, dragging one finger up the throbbing vein that runs along his shaft. “I don’t see anything wrong with your penis.” 

 “I-it’s not bad?” He asks, his brows knitted together like he’s waiting for the bomb to drop. You wrap your fingers around him, pumping his cock a few times as he shudders. You lean forward to lave a wet, sloppy kiss against his head that leaves him shaking and moaning. Your mouth is so hot and wet, Dennis swears he’s seeing stars. 

 “No, baby,” you murmur, and he cries out as your lips close around the oversensitive head of his cock. “Not bad.” A hoarse whine escapes his throat when you pull away, a shiny string of your saliva still connecting your full lips to his cock. He reaches for you in a vain attempt to force your head back, but you frown, batting his hands away. 

 “No touching, Dennis.” You reply sternly, and he drops his hands to his thighs, his fingers digging into the taut muscle. You sigh as if disappointed and lean forward, your breasts rubbing sinfully sweet against his cock. “You want to cum, don’t you?” You repeat the question playfully. 

 “Yes, so bad—” his admission is cut off by another swipe of your tongue, his head falling back against the pillows as a harsh breath forces itself out between his lips. 

 You pull away, your grip on his cock loosening until you’re barely touching him as you stroke lazily up and down his shaft. “Beg, then.” Your delivery isn’t cruel or mocking—just matter of fact, like it’s a thing that simply has to happen for you to fulfill your end of the deal. It’s humiliating, having to plead with you to let him cum, but Dennis has never been this hard, or this willing. “Be a good boy and beg.”

 “P-please,” he breathes, unable to look away from your hand on his cock. “Please, please let me cum. I-I want you so much!” It all comes tumbling out, desperate pleas sounding more and more like a prayer every minute. You increase your pace, tightening your fist just a little, enough to make him pant. 

 “Why, Dennis?” You say, cocking your head at him. “Why do you want me?”

 “Y-you’re beautiful,” Dennis admits it without hesitation. “a-and you’re—fuck oh fuck—smart, and I w-wanna make you feel good, like you deserve.” You swipe your thumb across the head of his cock to smear the growing trickle of precum around it. He isn’t expecting you to let go, and he can’t help the pained expression that crosses his face when you do. 

 You stand up from the carpet only to swing one leg across his lap, resting your knee on the cushions. 

 “That was good, Dennis,” You say, fixing him with a sweet smile. “You really think I’m beautiful?” You rest your other knee on the opposite side, hovering over him. He can feel the heat from your pussy just over his cock, and he knows that if he just grabbed onto your hips and thrusts home, he could be inside you—but he also knows it isn’t allowed. That there’s a line there, one he can’t see but one who’s existence he’s explicitly sure of. And if he crosses it, he knows you’ll get up and walk out, and it won’t matter that he’s just deposited seven grand into your bank account. 

 “I do,” he answers honestly. The kiss you gift him with is honey sweet and so butter soft it makes his toes curl, and he knows he’d do anything to get another one just like it. 

 “You did so good, Dennis.” Your voice goes husky, and you drop your hips just low enough to graze the tip of his cock with your soaked cunt. He moans loudly, and barely manages to keep himself still. “So good I’m gonna let you fuck my pussy.” God, he could cry. “And,” you lean down to brush your lips against the shell of his ear. “I won’t even make you use a condom.”

 He doesn’t know what he would have said—his mind is blessedly blank—but any words that would have come out are lost in the strangled groan that he releases against your throat as you start to sink down. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you mewl. 

 “Oh fuck,” your voice comes out in a breathy whine. He wants to move, wants to force his cock into you with everything he has—but you haven’t told him he could, yet, haven’t told him it’s okay, so all he does is rest his hands on your hips, helping guide you down. You cup his chin with one hand and drag your tongue against his lips. “You’re so thick,” you murmur, and his cock throbs in response. 

 You draw up and then sink lower, drawing a hiss from him as you repeat it over and over again until you’re seated firmly in his lap, with Dennis’ cock fully inside you. You fit him like a glove—tighter, maybe. Fuck, it’s like he can feel you squeezing around him as you shift, moaning. 

 “Feel good?” You ask, rocking in his lap. It’s all he can do to stare at you openmouthed and nod. 

 “U-uh-huh.” 

 You lean up, your velvet walls dragging along his cock like a fist. He murmurs a curse and then a prayer—you feel so good. He doesn’t even really realize he’s spoken until you respond.

 “How good, Dennis?” Your teeth drag along his throat. “Tell me.”

 “So good, l-like wet velvet, a-and so tight—f-fuck!” His hands flex on your hips with the desire to move, and he throws his head back, almost sobbing. You  suck so hard on his pulse he knows there’ll be a mark there when you’re done. 

 “If you can make me cum again, Dennis I’ll let you finish in my pussy.” You say, smiling down at him when you lean away. It already feels like he’s about to fucking bust right then, but he holds off, trying to think of anything but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him right now. 

 Finally, finally he grasps your hips and drives up into you with a wheezy moan. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” He forces his cock in and out of you in a dizzying rhythm that has him pressing his face into your breasts as you tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s addictive—you’re addictive. 

 “Mm, so good,” your praise only makes him fuck up into you harder, which is apparently what you want because your pussy clamps down around him like a vice. “See, Dennis? Nothing wrong with your cock. You just need someone to tell you how to use it, don’t you babe?”

 “Yes—fuck—yes!” He snaps his hips into yours, and you let out a shuddering moan, throwing your head back. You’re close, he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls around him. You have to cum first, you have to cum first, fuck—he chants it like a mantra, his teeth sinking into his lip as he tries to hold off.

 You cum with a sharp keen, your back arching as you somehow tighten around him even further. The measured throbbing of your cunt and the murmured whispers of your praise send him careening over into bliss, and Dennis’ arms loop under your shoulders to hold you still and steady as he presses his hips to yours. He can’t see, can’t think, can’t do anything but pant against your chest and bask in the aftermath. 

 He doesn’t know how long it is that you two sit there on his couch, his cum leaking slowly out of you and back onto him, but it feels like it’s been a while when he can form a coherent thought again. You’re rubbing soothing circles on his back, telling him quietly what a good job he did, how good he made you feel, how much you liked it. 

 “Hey,” you say, kissing his cheek. “You okay?” 

 “Y-yeah.” Dennis reaches up to fix his glasses, knocked askew at some point.  You ease yourself off of him, and he shoots up to lend you a hand when your knees wobble a little. You giggle. 

 “Thanks. We should, um. You know, shower, probably.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And then I can get an uber home, if you like.” You say it nonchalantly, but Dennis shakes his head, his face heating. 

 “No, I, um. You should stay. It’s no trouble.” Your kiss reminds him of the one you gave him earlier, and he swoons. 

 “Okay.” You elbow him, winking. “But breakfast’s extra.” 

 Fin

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library​ for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

 ♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤 ❥♡

summary - dennis has been feeling sexually frustrated after his divorce (not like he was getting anything whilst married anyway), but he decided to try out a new place that he overheard his colleagues talking about.

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home Masterlist

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

TOTAL WORD COUNT: ???

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Explicit Sex (O&V), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 (IDK how many parts this is gonna be y'all don't hold me to any of this.)

*The taglist for this fic is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 10

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Ten

The drive back to your apartment is a quick one, but it feels eons long because Dennis is itching to get you in private. The kiss you gave him outside the restaurant was filled with promise and his body was already buzzing from the bit of PDA you’d engaged in during dinner. Dennis knows you want him and fuck does he want you, but the old insecurities are creeping back in the closer he gets to your door. He can’t help but wonder what exactly you’re expecting of him this night and while he knows what he wants to do, he still doesn’t know if he can.

He tries to hide it from you but the confidence he had throughout dinner has completely worn off by the time you unlock the door to your apartment and invite him inside. You walk in first so Badger sees you, and he gives Dennis a bit of side-eye from the couch where he was snoozing comfortably.

“I’m just gonna take him out real quick,” you say, slipping off your heels and sliding into a pair of flip-flops. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Dennis nods as he stands aside, allowing Badger some space as you put his harness and leash on. He’s so far from comfortable it’s almost laughable, though. He almost feels like he’s starting from scratch with you, and he doesn’t quite know why. Except that’s not entirely true; he does know why, but he doesn’t much care to think about it in detail. Seeing your ex was a reminder that there were men who came before him—men who could do things that he can’t do. Dennis tries to push away the thought of you being intimate with Brad but now that he’s seen him in the flesh, he’s got a mental picture playing in his head.

It’s not the fact that you’ve been with other people that bothers him—you’re a grown woman, of course you’ve slept with other people, and he doesn’t care how many there were or any of that shit. What’s really dragging Dennis down into that dark place again is that he’s terrified he won’t measure up. As much as he knows you despise Brad, he’s pretty sure that sex was never the problem in your relationship, and he feels like he’s entered a competition he can’t win. The last thing he wants is to disappoint you tonight, just after you’ve seen Brad, because maybe it will get you thinking your ex wasn’t so bad after all.

The whole time you’re out with Badger, Dennis is telling himself that he needs to talk to you about how he’s feeling but he doesn’t want to bring up your ex. He knows you probably just want to put him out of your mind and end the night on a good note, but he doesn’t know exactly what that means for you. When you come back with Badger you’ve got a sweet smile on your face, but your face changes when you see him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s just… fuck… I’m sorry… I don’t…”

Dennis trails off and droops his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a pointless attempt at self-soothing.

“It’s ok,” you say. “Whatever it is, it’s ok. Let me just put Badger in Mal’s room so we can have some space to talk, alright?” You grab Badger’s water bowl and take it with you into the bedroom next to the kitchen. “Come on, Badge. TV Time.”

Dennis hears you put on the TV for Badger and talk to him for a moment, though he can’t make out your words. He tries to put himself back in that headspace where he felt like he could tell you anything but it’s not working because he’s got horrible thoughts floating around his head, thoughts like maybe all that in the restaurant—the little touches and kisses and flirty little smiles—was just you trying to make Brad jealous. Maybe none of it had a thing to do with you wanting him. Maybe he could have been anyone.

Dennis doesn’t look at you when he hears you come back into the living room. He doesn’t look at you when he feels you sit next to him on the couch. He just stares at the ground, gripping his knee to ground himself as he pinches the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the anxiety headache he feels coming on. He feels your hand cup his cheek as you pull his face in your direction.

“Look at me,” you say softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Your pretty eyes are filled with concern as they lock onto his and he wants to tell you every single thing he feels but his words are caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His mouth is dry and his heart is beating so hard he feels it throbbing in his neck.

“Baby, please,” you beg. “You’re scaring me. Just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to scare you,” he croaks. “I’m just… I think I’m scaring myself.”

“Please tell me this isn’t about Brad,” you say.

“I don’t know. It is and it isn’t. I mean… it’s about me, really. It’s the same shit again, and I thought I was past it… that we were past it… but I guess not.”

He can see the confusion in your slight frown and he knows he needs to be more specific. He hears Dr. Porter’s voice in his head screaming “open, honest communication” but the words just won’t come tonight. But it’s like you know—somehow you always fucking know. You fold your legs under yourself on the couch next to him and wrap your arm around his waist and you start to ask the right questions.

“What are you afraid of, Dennis? I mean, what exactly happened tonight that has you feeling bad, because I thought… I don’t know… you seemed happy.”

“I was… I mean, I am happy. I’m just… I’m scared I can’t make you happy. I guess just seeing him…”

“He made me fucking miserable,” you say. “No one on earth has ever made me feel worse than he did. I thought you knew that.”

“I do. I do know that. It’s just… God, this is so fucking embarrassing and I really don’t want to make you talk about him. That’s the last thing you want, I’m sure. I just… I feel like I’m not gonna be good enough for you. You know… in that way… and now we’re here and we’re alone and I don’t know what you want, or maybe I do know what you want and I want the same thing but I just… can’t.”

Dennis lets his hand rest on your hip and closes his eyes as you play with the top button of his shirt.

“You said you don’t know what I want,” you say, “but you never asked me what I want.”

Dennis swallows the lump in his throat. “OK, what do you want?”

“I want you to feel safe with me and I want to feel safe with you. And maybe we’re not there yet, and that’s ok. I mean, I know I’m still holding stuff back. I don’t feel 100% confident either and that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

It’s like a knife in Dennis’s heart to hear you say that because all he wants is to make you feel every bit of his love for you, but he understands where you’re coming from because he’s coming from the same place.

“It shouldn’t have to be this hard,” he says. “I just want…”

“What?” you ask. “Tell me what you want.”

I just want to tell you I love you and make love to you and be with you every single day for the rest of my life.

“I just want to be normal,” he says, and you scoff. 

“I don’t even know what ‘normal’ is anymore, Dennis. I’m pretty sure I’m not normal. I can’t even be naked in front of my fucking boyfriend without having half a panic attack… you wanna talk about embarrassing. Christ.”

You hide your face in the crook of his arm and sigh as you hug him tighter, and Dennis is at a complete loss for words because he didn’t know it was that bad. He knew you were hesitant, sure, but he didn’t know that you felt that level of fear being with him. He hates that Brad did this to you—that you’re holding yourself back from him because of things that asshole made you believe about yourself. He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, and all he wants is to make you feel as beautiful as you are.

He runs his hand across your hair gently and says, “Listen, I don’t know what he said to you and I don’t ever need to know because what I already know is that you are absolutely perfect to me, inside and out, and I will do everything I can possibly do to prove it to you. I never want you to feel afraid around me. I mean… sweetheart, I think about seeing you naked like 90% of the day every day.”

You giggle into his chest and look up at him. “Do you really?” you ask.

“It’s probably more like 95%,” he replies.

“Perv.” You swat at his chest and he leans down and kisses your forehead, inhaling the spicy vanilla scent of your hair as you sigh. “I want to be normal, too, Dennis. I really do.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything but, I mean, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to get you naked.”

“Just kiss me,” you say, and Dennis happily obliges.

“Just kissing” quickly turns to you straddling Dennis with your dress hiked up to your waist, his big hands roaming up and down your thighs as you unbutton his dress shirt and pull it free from his pants.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs into your neck, which he peppers with soft, open-mouthed kisses, and when he finds that spot that drives you crazy, he drags his teeth across it gently and you moan his name.

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and dig your nails into the meat of them, drawing a hiss from him that you feel in your core.

“Too much?” you ask, concerned that you’ve hurt him, but he just chuckles.

“Not at all,” he replies. “Not even close.”

You can feel his cock straining in the confines of his pants as you roll your hips on top of him and fuck you want him inside of you. You feel so empty as you clench around nothing, positioning yourself to get the friction you need to ease the aching absence of him.

“I want you so bad, baby,” you say, looking into his lust-blown blue eyes. “I need you.”

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch cushion, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he grips the flesh of your thighs. “Need you, too, sweetheart,” he says, and when he opens his eyes again it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. “Need to taste you. Please let me taste you.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip as you lean forward and press your forehead to his, taking a deep, calming breath before you whisper, “OK.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Dennis has you up off the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands cradling your ass as he carries you into your bedroom. He sets you gently down on your bed and leans over you, cradling your face as he moves in for a deep, slow kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. He finally pulls away and stands up at the edge of your bed, and you’re gasping for air as you look up at him—shirtless and barefoot with a tent in his pants that’s testing the strength of the seams. You want him in your mouth, down your throat; you want him everywhere, but when you sit up and grab his belt buckle he stills your hands.

“Not me,” he says. “You.” He wraps his big hands around your forearms and pulls you to your feet. “Turn around.”

You do as he says, and the slightly commanding tone of his voice has you feeling almost dizzy as he slowly pulls the zipper of your dress down. The heat of his breath against the nape of your neck has you clenching your thighs together as he slides the straps off your shoulders, your dress pooling at your feet as he reaches around to cup your bare breasts. You hear the soft thunk of his knees hitting the rug and you shiver as kisses his way down your back, one of your hands finding the back of his head and sliding through his hair as his lips reach the small of your back. He places his hands on your hips gently and turns you around, and the sight of him on his knees for you, looking up at you through his glasses with an almost reverent desire, is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. “So fucking perfect.”

He kisses his way across your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. The small lace garment is the only scrap of clothing left on you—the only place left to hide. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass and pulls you into him, his nose poking at your covered mound as he takes a deep breath of you. 

His voice is muffled as he speaks against the lace, “You smell so goddamn good,” and when he starts to kiss your mound over the fabric, you let out a whimper and have to grab his shoulders to keep your balance. He looks up at you, and you think for a moment he’s going to laugh or smirk or something, but his face holds nothing but tenderness.

“Lay down on the bed, sweetheart. Spread your legs for me.”

“O- OK,” you stammer.

You can hear the hesitance in your own voice because somehow, even knowing how desperately this man wants to be with you, you’re still afraid. But fuck do you want to feel his mouth on your bare skin. Just that little tease through the fabric of your panties felt like absolute heaven and you know that, if you can just get over this one hurdle, it’ll be absolutely incredible.

Dennis rises up off the floor and walks you backwards until you hit the edge of the bed and take a seat. You slide up the bed and get yourself into position and he watches your every move, his broad chest heaving with each hungry breath he takes. When you plant your feet and spread open for him, he moans as he drinks in the sight of you.

“So pretty, baby,” he says, and he starts to move toward you.

“Wait,” you say, and the worry creases his brow for a moment before you tell him what you want. “Take your pants off.”

Dennis smiles his relief as he unbuckles and shoves his pants down his long legs, kicking them off to the side. You lick your lips as he stands before you in a pair of gray boxer-briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. You smile up at him, your eyes darting from his bulge to his eyes and back again.

“Just let me see it. Please?” you beg him as sweetly as you can but he just shakes his head, and when you whine out his name, he chuckles.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, getting on the bed and crawling up towards you. You feel the weight of his cock on your thigh as he cages you in underneath him, taking off his glasses and placing them on your nightstand. “You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, your lips ghosting his.

“I want to see all of you, sweetheart. I want to worship every inch of your beautiful body and I want to make you cum on my tongue. You gonna let me do that?”

You take a beat before you answer. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” he says, and then he kisses you deep, dragging his tongue across the roof of your mouth slowly, giving you a preview of what he’s about to do to you.

Dennis takes his time with you, kissing all across your face and down your neck and across each of your clavicles. When he reaches your breasts, he makes sure to tell you how much he loves them as his kisses get sloppier and wetter. Your nipples get special attention from him and he moans as he suckles and laps at you, even using his teeth a little when you start to writhe underneath him. His body is so broad and heavy that you’ve got nowhere to go but you like it—the feeling that you couldn’t get away from him even if you wanted to, that he’s totally in control and you still feel completely safe. You don’t want to get away from him, though. Not even a little bit. You just want more and you cry out to him asking for it.

You could have cum just from the careful attention he paid to your tits but you don’t. Instead, the pulsing ache between your legs is getting almost painful as he kisses across your tummy. You don’t even know if he notices the stretch marks around your hips as he licks them because he’s just devouring every inch of you with the same enthusiasm. He tells you over and over again how incredible you are, how beautiful, how sweet, and you almost almost believe him.

When he’s done with your abdomen, he sits up on his knees and you gasp when he pulls your legs up. One ankle rests on his shoulder as he kisses the other, working his way up your calf and stopping at the knee to give the other leg the same treatment. He lowers your legs and settles between your thighs, the backs of your knees propped up on his broad shoulders as he plants hot, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. He makes his way from the knee all the way up to the edge of your panties, skipping the place you need him most to do the same on the other side, and you start to lose it. He’s fucking teasing you now and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your skin and his teeth graze the softest, fleshiest part of your thigh. You think he must be able to see your pussy throbbing through the thin lace fabric its hiding behind and you beg him, “Please, Dennis,” because the ache is becoming unbearable.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Take them off.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hear a growl come loose from somewhere down deep in his chest as he pulls your pussy against his face and inhales through your soaked panties. “So fucking wet for me,” he says before kissing you over the fabric. It’s already enough to have you clutching the sheets and you beg him again to strip you bare. He pulls away, getting back on his knees as he hooks his fingers around the strings at your hips. When he peels the fabric from your flesh slowly and discards your last line of defense, you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hold it.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, holding your legs wide open at the knee. “Open your eyes. Look at me, sweetheart.”

You do as he asks, and when you see the way he’s looking at you, you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says, and then he drops to his stomach and wraps his arms around your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue up your bare pussy has you boath moaning loud—too loud, you realize, because the sounds he’s about to draw out of you are bound to disturb Badger in the other room.

“Fuck. Hold on,” you say, grabbing the TV remote from your nightstand and turning it on and all the way up.

“Badger?” he asks, and you nod. 

Before you have a chance to apologize for the interruption, he’s got his tongue all the way out and pressed flat against your flesh and he’s moving his head up and down slowly. His tongue is so fucking wide and long that you feel it everywhere, hot and wet against every part of you. He keeps his pace steady, looking up at you every now and again for reassurance, and you give it to him, telling him how fucking good he feels, when to speed up, when to apply more pressure. He listens to every instruction, but you don’t really need to tell him all that much because you’re almost braindead already from the way he’s working you with his tongue.

You’ve got your hands buried in his hair, gripping it tight but not too tight as you rock your hips against his face, and when he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to suck it into his mouth, your back arches off the bed and you feel yourself starting to lose control.

“Oh, fuck, Dennis. That’s perfect. Just like that. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck, please, baby. Don’t stop.”

Your praises have him moaning around your bud as he pulls your hood back, and when he does that you pull harder on his hair than you mean to. It doesn’t bother him, though; he doesn’t miss a beat. He just moans louder and you can feel the bed start to rock as he ruts into it, his moans keeping time with the thrust of his hips and Oh fuck is he gonna cum just from eating you out?

He pulls away for a moment and you let go of his head. He’s panting as his face and beard glisten with you, and he asks, “Do you want me to use my fingers?”

“Fuck yes,” you say. “Please.”

He pops his middle and forefinger in his mouth and runs them up and down your entrance, gathering the slick leaking from you before slowly pushing them inside and latching on to your clit again. When he crooks his fingers and finds your G-spot, you know you’re only moments away. You grab your breasts and play with your nipples, wishing Dennis had a few more hands so he could do it for you, the way he knows you like.

“Oh God, oh fuck. I’m gonna cum, Dennis. Don’t stop. You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He pops off you just long enough to tell you, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum all over my face. You can do it,” and his words of encouragement are enough to send you over the edge.

Your toes curl into the bedspread and your back arches as you cum hard and quivering into his mouth. You know you shouldn’t yell but you can’t help it, and as you cry out your pleasure, you pray that the TV is loud enough that Badger won’t hear you and mistake your cries of ecstasy for those of pain. The sex gods must be watching over you tonight, though, because you don’t hear a peep from him. All you hear is the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears and your ragged breaths as you try to recover from what this man has just done to you. You look down at Dennis, still trying to catch your breath and unable to speak yet, and you give him a lazy smile.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you cum, sweetheart” His eyes roll back a bit and you can see he’s still humping your bed for release. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” you ask, and all he can do is nod furiously with his eyes pinched shut.

“Give it to me,” you tell him. “I want it.”

Dennis scrambles up the bed and you sit up and yank down his boxer briefs, finally getting an eyefull of his glorious cock. He’s soaked with his own precum and you moan as you wrap your lips around his tip and the taste of him hits your tongue. He’s already so close you don’t have to do much of anything—a few twists of your wrist and bobs of your head are enough to have him falling forward and catching himself on the headboard behind you as he cums hard down your throat.

You would have sucked the soul out of him for hours after the way he’s just made you feel, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before he had you wrapped up in his arms and pressed to his chest, kissing you softly with the taste of each other on your lips. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and you can tell you’re beaming as he tells you things you’ve been dying to hear.

“I think I’m addicted to your pussy,” he says. “It’s so fucking pretty and perfect. I already want more.”

You giggle and swat his shoulder. “I can’t do that again,” you say. “I’m spent. But that was amazing.”

“Really?” he asks, and he’s got that tone in his voice that tells you that even though you came screaming on his face, he’s still somehow unsure of himself.

“Yes, really,” you reply. “How did you… I mean… you said you didn’t know what you were doing but… um… you definitely knew what you were doing.”

Dennis buries his face in the crook of your neck and sighs, his words muffled against your skin. “I, uh, might have done some research. You know… read some articles and watched some… videos.”

You grab his hair gently and tilt his head back up so you can look at him. “You studied? For me?”

“I wanted to be good for you.”

“You were. You were so good for me, baby. The best ever.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” he says, and you grab his face between your thumb and forefinger,

“I’m not lying,” you say, dead serious. “I would never lie to you. I promise you that.”

Dennis lets out a relieved sigh and a half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “The best ever?”

“The best ever.”

PART ELEVEN >>>

[superfckinglazy]

Aw poor dennis 😭 💕 I loved it, this was the first dennis fic I've read

Turn the Tables

FIRST, we give thanks to the OG @queenoftheworldisdead​ for the first ever Dennis fic I ever read (and still read from time to time). It is gold and it needs way more recognition.

I have no idea what the hell I did with this fic but it’s here and that’s what matters. I love reblogs and comments and I’m curious to see how you all react to this one…

Dennis Baker x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, a hint of angst, mentions of divorce and a bad penis, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of D/s.

Summary | A high school reunion puts you back into contact with the same loner you knew since eighth grade. As you come to realize, never judge a book by its cover.

Peeling off the adhesive sticker and applying it to the front upper part of your dress, the former cheerleader that sits in front of you gives you a curious stare as she chews on the end of her pen before pointing it at you.

“We took bio in eleventh grade, right?” she asks, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. “I think I used to cheat off your quizzes.”

You don’t think she used to cheat off of you - you know it as a fact, offering her a small, polite smile before she points a finger toward the hallway. It’s your high school reunion, something that you’d been talking yourself out of since you parked your car. It’s a morbid curiosity, you decide, heading down the hallway, music getting louder as you get closer. You never cared about most of these people and yet, you’re wondering what they’ve done with their lives, like some weird reality television spinoff.

All you want to do is watch people, grab a few drinks and catch up with a few others that you still keep in contact with and then leave. You were never the overly popular one, happy to fly under the radar when you were in high school. You got along with everyone, including the loners that didn’t make friends as easily as you did.

Loners like the one that leans on the bartop while he nurses a beer in his large hand and his tight polo shirt.

But not just any loner.

Dennis Baker.

Keep reading

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 11

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Eleven

This week is going to be absolute chaos. You’re working extra shifts to cover for Jack and Betsy, who are visiting her parents to give them the good news of their engagement in person, and you thought maybe you’d get at least one night with Dennis, but when he arrived at work this morning, he’d learned that one of his coworkers had quit and so his week has gone from normal to crazy as well. You’re more upset than you probably should be—after all, it’s only five days—but as Monday drags on, that feels like an eternity.

You try to focus on the fact that this weekend you’ll be having your first sleepover at Dennis’s place. You always take Badger out of town to your parents’ house over 4th of July weekend because fireworks give him horrible anxiety and your parents’ HOA strictly forbids them, so your plan is to drop him off with them on Friday, stay the night, and then head back bright and early Saturday to help Dennis get ready for the barbecue. You know he’s nervous about it—especially because he doesn’t really have close friends of his own to invite—but as he kissed you goodnight last night, he swore to you that he really does want to do something for the holiday.

“I can't remember the last time I even went to a party, nevermind had one of my own,” he’d said. “It’ll be fun. Everything is fun with you.”

If you can just get through this week, you know you’ll be rewarded handsomely, but you’re addicted to Dennis now and you don’t know how you’ll survive five whole days without him. You try to focus on work but you’ve been replaying last night in your head all day. You hadn’t expected that from him. You’d figured that Dennis’s first time going down on you would be awkward for both of you—you with your insecurities and him with his own, distracting the both of you and making it hard for you to finish. All that aside, he’d made it sound like you were going to have to teach him everything, and you absolutely would have (and done so with all the patience and kindness in the world), but turns out he didn’t need that much instruction at all. It makes you smile thinking about Dennis reading sex-tip articles, a look of deep concentration on his face as he committed everything to memory. Thinking about him watching videos, though… that makes you feel a different way entirely. The thought of Dennis watching porn and thinking about you—the things he wants to do to you, the way he wants to make you feel—has you clenching your legs under your desk.

Five fucking days. This is going to be hell.

You somehow manage to make it to your break in between your day and night shift, and you call Dennis to check in as you walk to the pizza place a few blocks away. He picks up on the second ring, like he’d been sitting there waiting for you to call.

“I was just thinking about you,” he says. 

“Oh yeah?” you reply. “And what exactly were you thinking about?”

“How good you taste.”

His voice is low and gravelly and your whole body is buzzing with yearning.

“Dennis, you can’t say shit like that when you know I can’t see you,” you say. “You’re being so mean right now.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” You can tell by the gleeful tone of his voice that he isn’t. “I could come by for lunch tomorrow…”

A brief mental picture of Dennis sweeping all the shit off your desk, laying you down on it, and burying his head between your thighs flashes through your brain but you shake your head to get rid of it.

“I have a lunch meeting with the ASPCA rep tomorrow. And you’ve got your appointment with Dr. Porter on Wednesday night, right?”

“I could cancel,” he says.

“No,” you insist. “That’s important. And besides, I think the Doc would probably have something not so nice to say about me if I let you cancel your therapy session for a date.”

“He definitely would. And you’re working Thursday night again and then off to your parents’ place Friday, right? Fuck. I just… I really want to see you this week.”

“I do, too.” You can hear the whine creep into your voice but you can’t help it. You want to stomp your feet and throw a tantrum like a toddler. “This sucks.”

“It really does,” he replies, “but we can talk and text and maybe even…”

He trails off but you think you know where he was going. “Maybe even what, Dennis?”

“Nothing,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “Nevermind. I gotta run. Boss just came by with another stack of Gary’s work for me to take home with me. Call me later?”

“Dennis…”

“Just… call me later, sweetheart. Bye.”

“OK, bye.”

You hang up and grab yourself two slices and a soda to bring back with you, and as you eat at your desk, all you can think about is that “maybe even…” and how much you want to hear him finish that sentence. You know exactly what he means, of course, and you’re completely down. After all, you and Dennis had exchanged a few racy texts before, and if you’re going to make it through five whole days, you’re going to need something to see you through.

By the time the overnight staff arrives, you’re practically asleep on your feet, and you shoot Dennis a text on your way out to your car.

Y: Leaving now. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t want to wake you if you’re sleeping.

You get a response almost immediately.

D: I’ll be up. Call me when you get in.

The apartment is quiet when you get home; the only sounds are Badger snoring from your bedroom and Mal’s white-noise machine indicating that she is actually home and in bed early for once. You toe your shoes off at the door and read the note she left for you telling you that Badger is all set with his walk and nightly business, and when you get to your room you give Badger a scratch behind the ear (ignoring his grumpy Bitch I’m Sleeping growl) before changing into a tank top and clean underwear. You should shower the day off you but you’re just too fucking exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed and call Dennis to say goodnight.

“Hey,” he says.

“You didn’t have to stay up,” you reply. “It’s after midnight.”

“I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, but I’m so fucking tired.”

“That’s a shame,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

You laugh. “I want to, but not tonight,” you say, and you hear him whine.

“Please?” he begs. “You’re gonna make me do this all by myself?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, a big yawn hitting you mid-sentence. “I just can’t even keep my eyes open.”

“Alright,” he says, his voice soft and sweet. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. Call me in the morning.”

“I will.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

You don’t get a chance to question him before he hangs up, and you’re too exhausted to even think clearly, so you just put the TV on low, hit the pillow, and pass out. When you wake, it’s almost 9:30—way later than you usually sleep even on days after you pull a double. Badger is standing over you looking miffed that his morning piss and breakfast have been delayed.

“Sorry, buddy,” you tell him. ���Mama was tired.” He nudges your arm with his snout and you laugh. “OK, OK, I’m up.”

You throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and take Badger for his morning stroll, and once he’s done with breakfast, you grab your phone to call Dennis. Before you have a chance to call, you see you have a text from him that wasn’t there before you left for Badger’s walk, and when you open your text chain, you see it’s not a message but a video; the thumbnail is R-rated and well on it’s way to X.

He didn’t. Oh my God… he did.

You throw the living room TV on for Badger and rush into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you, and then you hit play.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you hear Dennis say, but all you can focus on is the tented sheet in his lap. He pushes it down his thighs, revealing his massive cock in his hand as he strokes it slowly. “I wish you were here with me. Miss you so fucking much. Miss having your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

“Holy shit,” you say out loud to no one.

Even though Mal is at work, you grab your headphones so you can hear the deep timbre of his voice as loud as possible in your ear. You lay back on your bed and crank the volume all the way up, and the rumble of his low moans has you spreading your legs and shoving one hand down your sweats and underneath your panties.

“Been thinking about your perfect little pussy all day, baby. Got so fucking hard at work.” He squeezes his bulbous tip and you watch the precum drip out before he gathers it between his thumb and forefinger and smears it all over his head. “I want you so bad, sweetheart. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me again.”

He grabs a bottle of lube from somewhere off-camera and squirts a generous amount on the tip of his cock, letting it drip down the length of him before grabbing himself by the base and stroking it up and down. His hand is a blur on the screen and the schlick schlick schlick of his lubed-up strokes has you rubbing your clit in quick circles. You don’t even know where to look: his thick, muscular thighs, his abs tensing and relaxing as he moans and groans, his pecs bouncing just a tiny bit in time with his strokes. His body is absolutely sinful and—as you can hear him telling you—it’s all yours to do with whatever you’d like.

He tugs and massages his balls as he licks his lips, his neck veins straining so hard you think they’ll burst as he throws his head back and moans, “God, I can’t wait to fuck you. Just want to be inside you, sweetheart. So fucking deep inside. Oh, fuck.”

Just thinking about having that big, beautiful cock in your guts is enough to bring you to the edge, and as Dennis strokes himself to completion, your name on his lips as white ropes of cum paint his abs, you speed up your own ministrations and cry out through gritted teeth. Your chest is heaving along with Dennis’s as he comes down, rubbing his spend into his skin. You wish you could lick him clean, wait the .5 seconds it would take for him to get hard again, and then ride his cock until your body breaks in half but you can’t.

Four fucking days. 

“Talk to you in the morning, sweetheart,” he says, and then the video cuts.

As soon as you can get a grip on yourself, you call Dennis.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “Did you get my present?”

“I honestly don’t even know what to say,” you reply.

You can feel his vibe shift through the phone. “Shit… should I not have-”

“No, no,” you tell him. “You definitely should have. That was so fucking hot. Like… do you have a secret OnlyFans that I don’t know about?”

Dennis laughs. “No. That was just for you. I don’t know what got into me last night. I’m sorry if it was too much, I just-”

“Dennis, stop. I loved it. I just came so hard watching it and I’m probably gonna watch it, like, 100 more times this week until I get to see you again.”

“I can make you another one. I mean, if you want…”

“Yes,” you say. “I want. I very much want.”

Dennis chuckles and you know that he’s blushing and you just feel so lucky to have found this sweet, sexy guy that can go from being the biggest dork to the sexiest hunk of man you’ve ever seen in your life and back again in seconds.

“Hey, Dennis?” you ask.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care how tired I am after work tonight. You. Me. Facetime.”

***

Four days. Four more days before he can get his hands on you. Dennis had been a little nervous to send you that video, but if he can’t be with you, he wanted to show you exactly how much he wants to be with you. He’d never done anything like that before, but something about you just makes Dennis think things and do things he never would have dreamed about before you walked into his life and shattered the picture he’d had of himself. Dennis thought he knew who he was, and it was a person he didn’t particularly like: a weak man, afraid, powerless. Now, though, he isn’t so sure. It’s scary, this journey of discovering himself—at his age, a man should have a pretty good idea of who he is—but after meeting you, he realizes he has no idea who Dennis Baker actually is. He’s starting to see just how much outside influences have shaped his opinion of himself and the way he lives his life. It’s terrifying and exciting in equal measure to know that maybe he can be whoever he wants to be with you.

And he knows who he wants to be. He wants to be a strong, confident man who isn’t afraid to show you how much he wants you, who isn’t afraid to tell you how much he loves you—the type of man who would believe you if you say you love him, too. He wants to be the type of man you want to marry and start a family with, the type of man you would never get tired of loving. He wants to be the type of man who can tell you all these things—and he’s close now, he can feel it.

But this week isn’t the week. He isn’t about to tell you he loves you through a fucking text message or call or even FaceTime. No, he wants to tell you with your beautiful face just inches from his, because he knows you feel it, too. He knows you’ll say it back. He needed that bit of reassurance from Mal to fully know, but he knows now and it’s killing him to have to wait.

Four more days.

It’s about 5:30 and Dennis is wrapping up his day, packing up all of the extra work he’s got to take home with him since Gary’s abrupt departure. He liked Gary, too. He was one of only a few people at work he would consider anything close to a friend—not that they ever really hung out, but he was a nice guy, invited him into his Fantasy league (which for a long time has been his sole source of social interaction), and they could shoot the shit about baseball and the boss being a dick and all those surface, bullshit things that you talk about with a work friend. The extra work is just the icing on the cake of Gary leaving, but it isn’t anything he can’t handle. Putting in the extra hours this week wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest before he met you, but now every second he spends doing Gary’s job is a second away from you and it pisses Dennis off a little.

He’s about to text you to see how your lunch meeting went when his phone dings. He smiles because it’s you, but when he opens your text his smile fades and his mouth drops open as a deep guttural sound bubbles up from somewhere in his chest. You’ve sent him a series of pictures, each one more titillating than the last. He recognizes your office as the backdrop of all of them, and in the first, it’s you in just your bra and jeans. In the second one, the jeans are gone and you’ve got skimpy little panties on that match your bra. In the third one, the bra is gone, and the fourth… 

“Fuck me,” he moans under his breath, taking in the sight of you bent over your desk, your gorgeous ass on display with just a sliver of pussy to tease him.

Dennis grabs his things and practically sprints to his car, holding his backpack in front of him as he goes so that none of his colleagues notice the growing tent in his khakis. The second he gets the door closed, he grabs his phone and pulls up that fourth picture, zooming in to get the best look he can at that heavenly place between your legs. There’s about a million things he wants to say to you right now—all of them absolutely filthy—and he doesn’t even know where to begin.

D: Jesus Christ I almost just came in my pants in the middle of my office

Y: Poor baby. Just giving you a taste of your own medicine…

D: Why don’t you ditch work and come give me a taste of something else?

Y: Can’t. You’ll just have to make me another video…

D: You’re a real bad girl taking nudes at work

Y: Come punish me then

D: That why you bent yourself over the desk? You need a spanking?

Y: That’s exactly what I need. That and your big fat cock in my mouth.

D: How am I supposed to drive home like this, huh? You’re killing me, sweetheart. Please let me come see you.

Y: Can’t. FaceTime later. Gotta go xoxo

“Christ,” he says to himself. “Four more days. Four more days.”

He repeats it like a mantra, wiping his brow because he’s actually sweating now and he has no idea how he’s going to get home with the massive erection that’s threatening to tear through his pants. He’s trying to push all thoughts of you out of his head in the hopes it will settle down when he gets a call from the Boner Killer herself. In any other circumstance, he would have let it go to voicemail, but he decides to pick up, if only to rid himself of his increasingly painful erection.

“What do you want, Karen?”

“Listen,” she says, her faux-regretful tone an unpleasant reminder of just how many times this has played out before, “I want to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was just angry and I didn’t expect you to have… company. So, yeah, I’m sorry, but we need to talk about this alimony situation like adults, Dennis. I know you’re mad at me, but that doesn’t give you the right to cut me off.”

Dennis sighs: another fake apology after another drunken outburst in a bid to get what she wants from him. Same shit, different day—but it’s not the same now. Now Dennis has a reason to push back, to fight for his own happiness.

“Look, Karen, I appreciate the apology and all but I’m not doing this anymore. We’re going to court and the judge is going to decide. If the court says I have to pay, I will, but I’m going to fight like hell not to because you don’t deserve another goddamn cent from me. I want you out of my life. For good.”

“This is about her, isn’t it?” she spits, voice dripping with malevolence—there she is, the real Karen, it never takes long. “You don’t actually think she likes you, do you? Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“No, Karen, I don’t think she likes me. I think she loves me, and I love her, and I’ll see you in court.”

Dennis hangs up, more determined than ever to tell you how he feels. If he could say it to his demon of an ex-wife and believe it, he knows he can say it to you. He shoots an email to his lawyer, asking after the court date, and heads towards home. All he wants in the world (besides for you) is to take Jax for a nice long after-dinner walk around the neighborhood and think about how exactly he’s going to tell you.

Work clothes exchanged for his sweats and a t-shirt, Dennis walks Jax around the neighborhood, taking the longer route and letting his pup sniff leisurely as he has a good think. He knows he wants to tell you on Saturday, after the 4th of July party is over and everyone has gone home and he finally finally has you alone. Dennis knows you’re staying over that night but he tries not to put any pressure on himself about what that might mean. Of course he wants to have sex with you and he’s pretty sure you want to have sex with him, but he has to give himself some grace—leave room for the possibility that it might not feel right, or he might not be ready, or you might not be. He doesn’t want to force it; he wants it to happen organically, to feel as natural as waking up in the morning, but he knows that’s impossible—that of course there are incredibly high expectations on both sides and the first time probably won’t be some sort of magical, soul-stirring experience. He can hope, though, and he can be prepared.

Even though you were candid about the fact that you’re on birth control for your cramps, he’d bought some condoms anyway. He’d got himself tested after Karen told him she’d been fucking around on him and his results were all negative (and he hasn’t been with anyone since) but he doesn’t know about you and he can’t bring himself to ask. It wouldn’t matter to him, of course, and he knows that he should just have the conversation ahead of time like adults and go from there, but he’s just got so many other things going against him when it comes to sex that he can’t add one more awkward conversation to the mix. He’s operating under the assumption that, when and if the time comes, he will use protection, and he’s more than happy to wrap it up if it means he gets to be inside of you. It’s not what he thinks about when he thinks about fucking you, though. He thinks about fucking you raw and pumping you full and watching you drip with him. It’s what he thought even before he knew you were on the pill, and if you’d let him, he would do it even if you weren’t. But that’s another conversation—one he knows he has to have with you but that he’s not ready for. 

Because Dennis wants a family so desperately; he always has. Karen pretended to want the same thing but, like everything else, it was all bullshit. Once they got married, it was all “let’s wait a little while” and then a few years later it was “I never wanted kids—you knew that.” She actually managed to convince him that he’d misunderstood her, that she had always been honest with him about her lack of desire for motherhood. He understands now, thanks to Dr. Porter, that it was textbook gaslighting, but for a long time he thought it was his own fault he wasn’t a father.

Dennis doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t want to have children because it’s one of the few non-negotiable things he needs from a relationship. He doesn’t care in the slightest if he has a biological child or an adopted child; he just wants to be a dad. It’s one of the things he knows he needs to discuss with Dr. Porter tomorrow and he’s dreading it, but he feels in his heart that you want the same thing as he does. He’s never met someone with more love to give than you, never met someone so patient and kind and caring, but Dennis doesn’t want to make assumptions—not every woman wants to be a mom, and that’s perfectly ok. He just can’t put his heart and soul into one that doesn’t. Not again.

But he’s getting way ahead of himself—thinking about marriage and babies when he hasn’t even voiced his feelings for you. He has to tell you he loves you, but how? The over-the-top cheesy romantic in him thinks briefly about a fireworks display, but that would be a nightmare for Jax (who will probably already be freaked out by whatever the neighbors have going on) so Dennis quickly axes that idea. He wants to do something, though. He wants to make it special. He wants you to know that he’s felt it for a long time—that it’s not just something he spits out without thinking.

By the time he returns home with Jax, he’s still coming up empty, but if he has to wait four—well, basically three—more days to see you, at least that gives him time to come up with something perfect. Because it has to be perfect. It has to be, because you are and it’s what you deserve. He’s run out of time to focus on it now, though. He needs to get his/Gary’s work done so that he can cut out a little early for his appointment with Dr. Porter tomorrow. He fixes himself a little something to eat—the lemon spaghetti you’d taught him to make, which is his new favorite thing in the world because it’s delicious and reminds him of you—and then he gets to work with ESPN droning on in the background and Jax napping next to him on the couch.

He finishes up around 10 and takes Jax for a quick night walk before getting ready for bed. He knows he’s gonna have to wait for you a while—the overnight crew doesn’t start until 11:30 and you won’t be home before midnight—but even though he’s exhausted, all it takes is a few moments studying the pretty pictures you’d sent him earlier to have him wide awake. He lets Jax up on the bed and scrolls Netflix, deciding to start watching Schitt’s Creek because you’d told him it’s one of your comfort shows. He’s on the third episode when you finally call. 

“Hey, baby,” you say, and Dennis doesn’t know what to focus on—all he ever wants to do is look in your eyes, but you’ve got your phone tilted so that your tits take centerstage, and he can see your nipples through the sheer baby-pink bra you’re wearing. “You have a good night?”

All Dennis can say is “Fuck me.”

“I’m trying to,” you reply, panning your phone down so he can see your matching panties—if you could even call that miniscule scrap of fabric that. “You like?”

“Sweetheart, I love. But you know you don’t have to dress up for me.”

“You want me to take them off?” you ask, and Dennis doesn’t know what to say—because of course he does, there’s nothing better than you totally naked—but also you look so fucking cute in this pretty pink set you’ve chosen to wear for him: it’s somehow innocent and sinfully sexy at the same time, just like you.

“Keep them on,” he says. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby,” Dennis says.

The hand not holding his phone reaches down to pull his cock through the hole in his boxers, and you notice, because of course you do.

“Lemme see it,” you plead. “Please? You know how much I love it.”

“You really do, huh?” he responds, and you nod. “You really love my dick that much?”

“I’d do anything for your cock, baby. Anything. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Dennis takes a moment to think about it because there are various scenarios running through his mind right now and he doesn’t know which one to pick. He decides to have you recreate the position you were in earlier because oh did he like that.

“Turn around,” he says. “Shake your ass for me.”

“So you liked that last picture, huh?” Dennis watches as you get your phone into position on your nightstand before crawling back up on your bed and sitting back on your knees. “Thought you might.”

“It was a fucking tease is what it was.”

“You want more?” you ask, running your hands up your body.

“I want everything,” he replies. “Show me.”

You flash him a naughty little smile as you reach behind you and unclasp your bra, holding the cups (as if they really hid anything at all) before you slowly let the garment drop. Dennis groans as you roll your nipples between your fingers and take your bottom lip between your teeth. He’s got the base of his cock in a death grip and its already throbbing in his hand before you even turn around. When you do, you get on all fours and look over your shoulder as you wiggle your ass at the camera. Only the tiny fabric strip of your G-string is keeping Dennis from getting exactly what he wants.

“You like that, baby?” you ask.

“Fuck yes. Now take your panties off, sweetheart. Nice and slow for me.”

You rise up on your knees and slide them down slowly as requested, only it’s painfully slow and it seems like an eternity before you’ve got them down to your mid-thighs and you’re bent over again with your knees spread wide.

“God, I love your pussy. So fucking pretty. Spread it open for me.”

You press your face to the bed and reach around on either side of you, and Dennis moans as you spread your lips apart and start to throw it back and forth slowly. Dennis starts to stroke himself at the pace you’re setting, imagining himself behind you as you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“I’m so fucking wet for you Dennis,” you moan.

“I see it. Fuck. I just wanna taste you, baby.”

“Soon,” you say. “Tell me what else you want.”

“Wanna watch my dick slide in and out of that gorgeous fucking pussy, all soaked in you. God, I need to fuck you, sweetheart.”

“I need it, too, Dennis. I need your cock so bad. I feel so fucking empty.”

“Turn around,” he says. “On your back. Wanna watch you play with that pretty little pussy until you cum.”

You grab two pillows and place them at the end of the bed, laying back against them and spreading your legs for him again.

“Lemme see your cock, Dennis. Please.”

Between the sight of you splayed out so beautifully for him and the urgent need in your voice, Dennis’s skin feels like it’s on fire he angles his phone down to give you the look you’ve been begging for. He grips the base and pushes it forward a little, and you make a hungry little mmmph sound when it twitches and jumps back a bit in his hand.

“You’re so fucking big and thick, baby,” you say as you start to circle your clit. “What if I can’t handle you?”

Dennis knows you’re just dirty talking him but he can’t say it isn’t a concern of his. He knows his dick is big, even if he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, and you were so tight around just his fingers that he’s legitimately scared he might hurt you. But he’s done his research—the importance of foreplay and lube, the best positions to make you comfortable and put you in charge of how deep he can go. The last thing in the world Dennis wants is to hurt you in any way, in the bedroom or out of it, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep from doing so.

“I’m gonna take good care of you, sweetheart,” Dennis promises. “Gonna go nice and slow, stretch you out with my fingers first, make you cum on my tongue, get you nice and juicy and ready for me.”

“I’m ready for you now,” you say, working your clit harder and faster as your hips start to jerk a bit. “God, I wish you were here.” You grip your breast in one hand as you move your other hand from your clit to your entrance, slowly sliding two of your fingers inside. “My fingers are so fucking small compared to yours. Fuck, I need you, Dennis. Please.”

Dennis strokes his cock faster as he watches you fuck yourself on your fingers. “You’re so fucking sexy, sweetheart. Keep going.”

“I don’t know if I can cum without you,” you whine. “I need more.”

“You got any toys?” Dennis asks, desperately hoping that you do because he would kill to watch you fuck yourself with something bigger than your fingers.

“I have a vibrator,” you reply.

“Get it.”

Dennis watches your breasts sway up close as you pull your vibrator out of the drawer in your nightstand. He’s slightly disappointed to discover that it’s something small and egg-shaped and not something he can watch you fuck yourself on—he doesn’t know much about the different types of sex toys except that, according to Karen, they were all better than him—but he’s still absolutely salivating at the thought of watching you use this thing on yourself.

You turn it on and the sound is surprisingly low as you tease your entrace with it. When you bring it to your clit, you throw your head back and curl your toes and shout, “Fuck.”

“That good, huh?” Dennis asks, his eyes locked on your face as it twists up in pleasure.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Oh, God, Dennis. I’m gonna cum soon. Talk to me. Tell me how you wanna fuck me. Please.”

Dennis decides that, for the purpose of talking you through your orgasm and because he is almost ready to bust himself, he’s just going to let his inhibitions go and tell you exactly what he wants to do to you. None of it is realistic, of course; he doesn’t know if he can do any of these things (and he certainly can’t do them yet), but when he fantasizes about the ways he wants to fuck you, he doesn’t have to be realistic.

“I wanna fuck you from behind,” he begins, “hard, and I wanna watch your pretty ass bounce as I give you those long, deep strokes that have you clawing at the fucking sheets and screaming my name. I want to fuck you so good you can’t think, can’t fucking breathe, and then I wanna flip you over and throw your legs over my shoulders and bend you in half and fuck my cum so deep into you that you’ll be leaking me for days.”

“Oh, fuck. Oh my God. Yes. Yes. Keep going. I’m so fucking close.”

“I’m not gonna stop, either,” he continues. “You know I’ll get hard again when I’m still inside you and I’ll just keep fucking you and fucking you until you can’t cum anymore, and then I’ll make you cum one more time just because I can.”

“FUCK.”

Dennis watches your thighs tremble as you cum on your toy, your eyes staring straight at the camera—at him—and your mouth open wide with the sweetest sounds coming out of it. That’s all it takes to finish Dennis off, and as he shoots a load onto his stomach he thinks to himself that he’ll never get tired of looking in your eyes when you cum.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, chest heaving as you pull yourself up onto your knees and then flop down on your stomach, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. “You’re, like, really good at this, you know that?”

“I’m discovering new talents with you,” he replies, feeling a little smug, if he’s honest with himself, because he really is kinda good at this, huh?

“Three more days, baby,” you say.

“Three more days,” he replies.

PART TWELVE >>>