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click, play, stay. d.w. °˖➴

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: you walk in on dean watching porn, and the girl? looks just like you. one thing leads to another, and it gets way too real.

⤿ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, best friends to lovers?, oral sex, p in v, breeding kink, swearing, porn watching, dub-consent (you did walk in on him), spoiler alert: dean is NOT your average best friend, accidental discovery, intentional fucking, you wanted slowburn? lol, no. welcome to chaos.

⤿ notes: new format?? mhm! also, i’m pretty sure this is the exact moment i crossed all boundaries. but hey, it’s dean. enjoy… or don’t. but you will. you’ll definitely enjoy.

You were supposed to be asleep.

The bunker was dead quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of overhead lights and the occasional creak of ancient pipes. You tiptoed out of your room in nothing but your usual sleep fit— those stupid little pink shorts and that baggy tee with a faded band logo, barely awake, just craving something cold to drink.

What you didn’t expect to find was him.

Dean. Lying on his bed, legs sprawled out like he owned the place — which, to be fair, he kinda did; laptop propped open on his thighs, the soft slap of skin echoing off the walls, low moans slipping from his lips like sin.

Your brain didn’t catch up right away. You blinked, thinking maybe it was just some dumb movie. Something graphic on late-night cable. But then he shifted. Jaw tight, chest heaving, one hand moving under the thin gray waistband of his sweats, and the sound from his laptop speakers made your stomach drop straight to hell.

Wet. Rhythmic. Desperate.

You froze in the doorway.

It was porn.

Very, very intense porn.

You were about to turn and bolt when you actually looked at the screen— and saw her.

Saw you.

Or, okay, not you exactly. But enough like you that your breath caught in your throat. Same hair. Same curves. Same little whimpering gasp when the guy in the video; who had messy hair, broad shoulders, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean’s, gripped her thighs and pushed in deeper.

Your eyes went wide.

And that’s when Dean looked up.

He didn’t panic. Didn’t scramble to close the laptop or hide what he was doing.

Instead, he smirked.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice gravelly from arousal. “Didn’t think you were the sneaky type.”

Your whole body went numb. Your knees locked in place and your voice came out squeaky and stunned:

“I—I didn’t mean to— Dean, I didn’t know you were— what the fuck!”

“Mhm,” he said, not even flinching. So casual. One hand finally moving away from his waistband, resting on his stomach like he wasn’t still hard as hell beneath the fabric. “Didn’t know I had an audience tonight. You like what you saw?”

“That girl looked like me,” you whispered.

He arched a brow.

“Did she?”

“Dean.” Your voice trembled, shame twisting in your chest. “Why would you… why would you watch that?”

He clicked the laptop shut like it was nothing.

“Why d’you think?” he said, standing up slow, that cocky saunter in his step, towering over you before you could even think of moving. “I’ve had to sit around for months watchin’ you prance around here in those tiny fuckin’ shorts, crawlin’ into my bed when you get nightmares, sleepin’ next to me like you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. Your brain had shut down.

“You ever think about me like that?” he asked, voice dropping an octave. “You ever get curious what I sound like when I’m inside you?”

You choked on your own breath.

“Jesus, Dean—”

He stepped even closer. Barely a foot between your bodies now.

“Don’t get all shy now, sweetheart. You walked in. You stayed. You looked at that screen and kept watching.” His eyes dragged over your body, slow and hot and possessive. “So if you’re gonna act like a good girl, tell me the truth.”

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, heart racing.

“…Was it really about me?”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and full of sin,

“Every fuckin’ time.”

You swallow.

His breath brushes your skin.

You hate the part of you that wants more.

“So what happens now?” you whisper, voice barely there.

He grins, but it’s not playful anymore. It’s dark. Focused. Hungry.

“Now,” he murmurs, “you tell me if you want this. ‘Cause once we start, baby, I’m not gonna pretend I don’t wanna know how you sound when you moan anymore.”

Your whole body lights up like a goddamn fire alarm.

You nod— slow, shy, unsure, and Dean’s hands find your hips, big and hot and grounding you before you can float away from the sheer weight of this moment.

“Fuck,” he mutters, like it’s physically painful. “You’re actually sayin’ yes to this.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He lets out a sharp laugh— shocked. His grip tightens, and his mouth brushes your cheek before he growls into your ear,

“You’re my best fuckin’ friend, sweetheart. The girl I’ve been tryin’ not to fuck for years. But now? You’re standing here all pretty and wet for me after catching me jerk off to a video of someone who looks just like you.”

He steps back just long enough to grab the laptop. “So we’re gonna watch it again. Together.”

You blink.

“Dean—what?”

“No no,” he says, pulling you into his room, sitting down on the bed and tugging you into his lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world. His hard length presses up against your ass as you straddle him. “You’re gonna watch what I was watching. And you’re gonna feel exactly what I felt.”

The video starts again.

The moans fill the room.

Your cheeks burn.

His hands start roaming, slow at first. Just resting on your thighs. Then sliding up under your shirt, thumbs grazing over your hips. “See that?” he murmurs, mouth brushing your neck. “How he’s got her pinned down? How deep he’s fucking her?”

You nod, breath stuttering.

“That’s what I was thinkin’ about,” he says, pressing a kiss to your pulse. “Pushing you back on this bed, spreading those pretty legs, and just ruining you.”

You let out a shaky little gasp.

“You always get this wet just from watchin’?” he teases, fingers sliding under the waistband of your shorts. “Or is it me?”

You can’t speak. He doesn’t need you to.

One thick finger dips into your panties and he groans— low and deep, like he’s just tasted something addictive.

“Ohh, fuck, sweetheart…” He nips at your jaw. “This pussy was made for me.”

You whimper.

“You want me to fill you up like that?” he asks, gaze flicking from the screen to you. “You want me to make you so full of me, you’ll be feelin’ it for days?”

You nod helplessly.

And then he’s flipping you beneath him, pushing your shirt up, yanking your shorts down— his mouth hot and hungry as he kisses down your belly, his voice ragged,

“You better be fuckin’ sure, baby. ‘Cause once I start… I’m not stopping ‘til I’m all the way in and you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”

You don’t even get a chance to breathe before Dean’s dragging your panties down your thighs, slow but greedy, like he wants to savor it, wants to remember what you look like like this forever. Laying on his bed, flushed and wide-eyed, already soaked for him.

And he hasn’t even touched you properly yet.

The video’s still playing on the laptop beside you. Your own soft moans mixing with hers, the sound of skin against skin driving Dean insane.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he mutters, dragging his mouth across your inner thigh, leaving open-mouthed kisses. “Shakin’ like a virgin on prom night.”

You let out a breathy little whimper, thighs twitching.

“I’m not—”

“No, but this pussy’s mine,” he cuts you off, voice all grit and possession. “And I’m gonna treat her like she’s never been touched before.”

And then his tongue’s on you.

Oh. My. God.

No teasing. No slow warmup. Dean dives in like he’s starved— like he’s been dreaming about this for years and now that he has you, he’s gonna take his fucking time.

His tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, then circles your clit until your hips buck against his mouth. “Dean—Dean, holy shit—”

He groans into you like he can’t help it. Like you taste like heaven and he wants to drown in it.

One thick finger slides into you, curling just right, his mouth never stopping. You’re shaking. Moaning. Whimpering his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growls, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin slick with you. “You’re squeezin’ me so good, baby. So fuckin’ tight for me.”

He slides a second finger in. Pumps slow. Deep. Crooks them just enough to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You gasp, fisting the sheets.

And then he leans up, hovering over you, eyes dark as sin.

“Wanna know somethin’ sick?” he rasps, rubbing slow circles on your clit. “When I came earlier? I imagined this pussy. You— on your back, beggin’ me to put a baby in you.”

You let out a choked moan.

“Dean—”

“You gonna let me, sweetheart?” He kisses your neck, your collarbone, your lips—hot, messy kisses between every filthy word. “Gonna let me fuck you raw? Fill you up so deep it sticks?”

You nod like you’re drunk on him.

“Please.”

He groans—feral now; like that one word snapped the leash clean off.

He yanks his sweats down, and his cock springs free. Thick, flushed, leaking. You’ve never seen anything so hot. He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, just for a breath.

“You sure?” he asks, voice tight.

You reach up, grab his face, and whisper, “Dean, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

That’s all it takes.

He slams into you— slow but deep, dragging it out, like he wants you to feel every inch.

You cry out, nails digging into his back. He groans like he’s dying.

“Fuuuck,” he hisses, burying himself to the hilt. “So fuckin’ tight, baby. You were made for me.”

His hips start to move. Slow at first, grinding into you, heavy and rough and intentional. He kisses you like he owns you. He fucks you like he’s claiming you.

And the whole time?

He doesn’t stop talking.

“You feel that?” he pants. “That’s my cock stretchin’ you open, fillin’ you where no one else ever will again.”

“I’m gonna fuck you full, sweetheart. Breed you so good you’ll feel me for days.”

Your body’s writhing under him— shaking, trembling, your orgasm building like a tidal wave.

“You close?” he growls, thrusting harder, snapping his hips against yours. “C’mon, baby. Cream on my cock. Show me how bad you want it.”

And when you fall apart?

It’s a wreck.

You clench around him like a vice, crying out his name, and he loses it— slamming into you once, twice more before burying himself deep and groaning, “Fuck—take it—take all of it, baby—fuckin’ take my cum—”

He holds you tight, grinding into you as he empties himself inside, thick and hot and endless. You’re both panting, covered in sweat, trembling from the aftershocks.

He doesn’t pull out.

Just collapses on top of you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Told you we’d make a better video,” he mumbles against your skin.

You laugh, breathless. “Holy shit.”

He grins.

“Round two?”

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @twelveyearsofit @tinas111 @riteofpassage77 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

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₊˚⊹♡ body swap 👥

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: what’s the first thing dean does when he wakes up in your body? the clear obvious.

cw: 18+ smut, pwp , exploration of the female body, female masterbation, dean’s a bit of a perv, dean flicks the bean while being in your body, mention of nipple piercings.

word count: 1k

julia yaps: i was watching a misha and jensen convention clip where they answer a question about how their characters would react to waking up in a female body. and i got this wicked but fun idea hehe <3

inspo: this vid (thirteen minutes ten seconds)

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

dean’s eyes slowly open at the sound of the alarm coming from the nightstand clock, an unfamiliar tune playing, this definitely wasn’t a song he would choose to wake up to. it’s too.. cunty as some would say. must have been another prank of yours, he thought.

he groans and reaches out to smack the clock to switch it off, noticing his arm much smaller and lacking his usual muscle. he squints his eyes for a second. “what the-?” he mumbles as he sits up in the bed rubbing his eyes, noticing that this wasn’t his room.

it was yours. and you were nowhere to be seen.

he looked down at his body, realising that he owns a pair of breasts. at first he was highly confused whether he was having a weird wet dream or something, but as the wheels in his brain started to slowly turn he remembered what happened yesterday.

you and him were hunting down a witch that casted a spell before she got away and cursed the both of you with some latin chant none of you understood.

little did the both of you know it was a body swap curse, which explains why dean is in your body now. wearing a cute lil tank top, pj shorts and all.

his hands cup the breasts, a smirk growing on his face. “boobs, awesome” his hands feeling them out, there was a foreign feeling underneath his fingertips other than the breasts themself though, something that seemed to trigger small sparks throughout the body. the curiosity getting the best of him, he lifts up the tank top to reveal the piercings decorating his nipples. his eyes widen for a sec.

“well aren’t you full of surprises” he whistles to himself, impressed by how nicely the piercings look. “so hot” he murmurs to himself.

a lightbulb lights up in his head, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. he lays down with a little thud against the pillows, long hair flying in his face.

he wonders what else you can surprise him with, but a tiny voice inside his head tells him to be respectful, after all it is your body, originally, and maybe you didn’t wish for him to intrude on your privacy like this.

but there was a bigger voice telling him to explore, he fought with his thoughts for a long second before he let out a “ah fuck it”

letting his hand slowly sneak down the soft skin of the abdomen, his touch teasing, making his breath hitch slightly. his hand wonders lower and lower until his fingertips meet the waistband of the pj shorts.

without much thought he slides his hand under the material expecting to be met with another layer of some lace panties or something, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing stopping him from continuing his exploration.

“clever girl” dean chuckles. she probably doesn’t wear panties to sleep so it’s easier to play with herself whenever she wants, he thought.

he bites his lip as his hand wonders curiously lower, sliding the middle and ring finger between the slit, finding the bundle of nerves called the clit.

his legs spreading automatically as he presses down on the little button, trying to feel it out. “oh? oh..” dean’s eyes widening a bit at how sensitive that part is. “oh wow” his mind constantly wondering back to the thought of you touch yourself, how you would probably cover your mouth so no one in the hallway hears your little whimpers and gasps.

“dammit…” he mumbled to himself, not being able to stop himself, he knew this was wrong, so wrong, he swapped bodies with his friend and now he leaves no room for privacy for god’s sake. but as he starts circling his finger around the clit his thoughts of guilt vanish.

“w-wow this feels… so good” dean whispered to himself as he quickens the pace of his fingers, he’s slightly intrigued with how much pleasure such a small thing can produce. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling more educated now on the female body, despite the amount of women that came thanks to him.

his other hand slides under the tank top and cups the breast, realising how much smaller your hands are that your breast can’t fit like it would in his calloused ones.

he runs his thumb over the hardened nipple and piercing, his mouth flying agape as he finds the jackpot of pleasure. the feeling of nipple and clit play mixed together sending sparks throughout the whole body, from head to toe.

his back arching and breathing quickening. small curses and moans flying out his mouth as he feels an odd feeling in the pit of the stomach, a bit different from what he would be feeling while jerking off. the pace of his fingers speeding up to the point he starts seeing stars, his eyes closed and toes curled, mouth flying agape.

and then a huge wave crashes over him, whimpers leaving his mouth. probably being the first man to know personally how a female orgasm feels like.

his finger stopping, his chest heaving up and down, legs slightly shaking.

he takes his hand out of the shorts and looks into the top drawer of your nightstand for some tissues or anything he can clean up with. after all he made a mess between his legs.

his eyes widening as he sees a bottle of lube and a bunny vibrator just casually sitting there in your drawer. top drawer to be exact, you weren’t afraid of anyone finding it because you never expected to find yourself in this type of scenario, but here you were.

his lips curve into a devilish smirk, “ooo naughty” he says before taking it out and looking at it. a wicked idea coming to mind, making his smirk widen even more.

“guess she won’t mind waiting 10 more minutes” he says to himself before sliding down the pj shorts.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @figthoughts @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @pinksatinpanties

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© reserved for photo/gif owners!

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give you something to cry about, ft. SOLDIER BOY

SYNOPSIS: you disobeyed soldier boy during a mission, so he’s going to remind you just how compliant you can be.

WORD COUNT: 1350 WARNINGS: NSFW (18+) / fem!reader / dacryphilia / toxic secret relationship / age gap / humiliation / face fucking (f receiving) / oral (m receiving) / power play / orgasm denial / slight exhibitionism (they can be heard through the walls) / daddy kink

“You’re careless,” SOLDIER BOY was laying into you, his words sharp as a dagger while his finger waved in your face only an inch from your nose. Ben, unfortunately, was like a ticking time bomb, and you never knew what was going to set him off until he was already at his breaking point. “I don’t know what it is with your generation, but you’re a bunch of fuckin’ idiots. If I tell you something, you do it. That fuckin’ easy, sweetheart.”

The pet name rolled off his tongue sourly, the nickname doused in a bucket of evident distaste. Flinching at the tone of his voice and level in which he was speaking was your natural reaction to the situation. Hughie was always so sweet with you— same thing with Frenchie, M.M, Kimiko… Well, Butcher had his moments, but the point was that you had never been yelled at before. At least not until Ben emerged from that god forbidden cyro-chamber. To your humiliation, and your sensitive nature, tears accumulated at your waterline, causing a blur in your vision. The worst part about the whole thing? Ben was right, you were being careless by defying his orders, but who could blame you when he was so hard to trust.

“Say something,” Ben backed away, dropping his shield to the tiled floor, creating an echo of titanium to bounce between the walls and hone in on you. It was all so overstimulating; the sound of the shield dropping, the anger in his tone, the way you could feel your clothes against your skin. If the overstimulation of your current environment wasn’t enough fuel to the fire, Ben snorted at the sight of your tears, followed by a mock, “You’re crying?”

With as much discretion as possible, your sleeve found its way to your eyes in an attempt to sop up some of the tears threatening to spill over. Clearing your throat, you tried to gain as much courage as you could, but your voice cracked and your words fell flat. “No, I’m not.”

“C’mere,” Ben wrapped his arm around your bicep, his grip a little too tight for comfort and pulled you closer to him. Now standing directly in front of him, chests square with one another, you chewed on the inside of your cheek to combat the quivering of your lip. “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

One of Ben’s fingers pointed at the ground and you knew exactly where he was going with this. No one knew what happened between you and Ben behind closed doors— they didn’t know how you ran to him when you were needy and desperate, or how he would sometimes make you get off by humping his boot. It was a dynamic you couldn’t even fully grasp, and you definitely didn’t need anyone else weighing in on it. With a compliance that came naturally, you sank to your knees, opening your mouth for him as the tears spilled over. Ben was quick to release his shaft from his supe suit, using the tip of his cock to wipe off the droplets streaming down your cheeks. Instead of tears drying on your cheeks, it was now a trail of precum. 

“You’re careless in the field, but when I have you alone, you always listen.” Ben traced the outline of your lips with the tip of his dick, slowly feeding his cock into your mouth. Bit by bit, he pushed against your tongue and grasped his hand behind your head to steady your movements. “Say it. Say you’re gonna listen.”

Moving back, you tried to release him from your mouth to offer a repetition of his words, but he stabilized your head with his hand. Signaling with one flick of his eyebrow that he wanted you to talk around his dick, your words came out muffled, only adding to the humiliation of the situation but the warmth that grew in your lower abdomen didn’t go unnoticed. “G’na listen. Swear.”

“I was so mad at you, but then you started crying… Fuck, it got me so hard.” Ben said, but you weren’t sure the statement was meant for you or if it was his internal monologue slipping out. 

With the kind of meanness only someone like Soldier Boy could possess, he gripped his fingers in your hair, tugging on the roots enough to make you yelp. Using the yelp to his advantage, he filtered more of his cock into your mouth, until his tip was poking the back of your throat. Dry heaving around him, you lurched forward as he gave you a proper face-fucking, and with the growing arousal in your underwear and the unadulterated noises you were making, you realized that this was a power move. It was Ben’s way of telling the team, he had you under his thumb— obedient and desperate for him. Thin walls separated the two of you from the rest of the team, where Hughie, Annie, Kimiko, M.M., Frenchie, and Butcher all sat outside, and with wide eyes, you made the connection.

Ben’s climax was almost immediate when he saw you piece two and two together; he had successfully embarrassed you after you had embarrassed him in the field. The realization flashing in your teary gaze was hard to miss, and exactly what he wanted. Pulling himself almost all the way out, he rocked his hips back into your mouth and shot his climax down your throat. Sputtering around him, you swallowed his seed and removed his shaft from your mouth, feeling like the length of it was never ending as you pulled it out. Watching it bob up, slapping his suit, you wondered if he was going to give you what you needed. It’s not like he needed a refractory period.

Ben grabbed your elbows, hoisting you up to your feet. With a sympathetic gaze, he gently toyed with the button of your jeans, peeling them down just enough for him to place his hand against your slit and collect some of your arousal on his fingers. A breathy-whine sounded from you as he pulled away. Ben looked at his fingers, observing the arousal he had collected in just a few seconds from it pooling in your underwear, he commented, “So wet, baby. It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

Nodding your head in response, you began to loop your fingers around the waistband, getting ready to shimmy out of your pants and offer Ben full access to your body. Clicking his tongue, disapproval coating his facial expression, he offered a demand. “Use your words.”

“It is uncomfortable,” you confirmed, wiping away the semi-dry tears on your face. Part of you didn’t even want to look in the mirror to see how disheveled you must be after that— dried tears crusting to your face, precum present on the apples of your cheeks, swollen lips, and messy hair was expected after that. “Please help me?”

The sympathy etched on his face disappeared in an alarming fashion. Transitioning between a sympathetic look to a devious glare happened in such a manner, you almost didn’t even place the change. Ben’s mouth curved into a smirk, his eyes mischievous as he buttoned the front of your jeans and zipped them back up. 

“That’s real tough, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll remember this next time. Why don’t you go tell the team that dad took care of your mistake? You don’t need to be scolded twice.” Ben swatted you on the butt as you headed toward the door, knowing the thin walls already alerted everyone of what was going on. Eyes clouded with the shame of disappointing Ben, you only nodded in response, realizing that whining and complaining about his denial was only going to get you into a bigger predicament.

“Hey,” Ben grabbed your hand, twirling you around before you had to go face the rest of the team. His lips grazed the top of your ear, the heat of his whisper making your stomach turn, “Don’t look so sad, this is a teaching moment. If you take it like a champ, I’ll give you a reward later.”

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

meet jensen ackles, your regular hollywood washup who weaseled his way back into your father's life after ghosting him for twenty years. to be fair, he had a career he was trying to pursue! a man with many dreams and wasted talent, jensen has a handful of bad habits keeping from reaching the potential that everyone in his life reminded him that he was abandoning. this comes as no surprise, though, considering he's only ever existed in your mind as a warning story; never a face or presence to connect the name to, just the foreboding tales of his mistakes in college. don't be like jensen, your father would warn . . . but he never warned you about liking jensen.

trigger warnings for : hefty age gap ( 20s & 40s ) | sexual content ¹ | alcohol usage & ab/se | drug usage & ab/se ² | addiction ³ | emotional manipulation & unavailability | unhealthy coping mechanisms | (updated frequently!) + lmk if i need to add anything! ¹ ㅤ unprotected p in v | oral f & m receiving | choking kink | daddy kink | spit kink | semi - public sex | public sex | manhandling | creampie | (updated frequently!) THIS WORK IS NOT SAFE FOR MINORS. ² ㅤ only scenes with weed are going to be described in detail | harder drugs are eluded to or mentioned by name | not romanticized | please read with caution / don't read if these are triggers for you! your mental health & general health matters <3 ³ ㅤ not romanticized | discussions of addiction struggle / relapse | please read with caution / don't read if these are triggers for you! your mental health & general health matters <3

sneak into his room? YES | NO

navigate the trigger warnings by which title has the aforementioned number by it !

part one - friend from college ¹ your dad's estranged best friend from college, jensen, comes back into his life to find you, his daughter, as an unexpected factor in it.

part two - swallow the smoke ² it wasn't supposed to be more than a one-time thing. a little slip in your judgment. but jensen seems to have taken more of a liking to you than he thought.

part three - bite the pillow ¹ the last two days with jensen are going to be torturous if he keeps giving you those eyes across the room, right under your dad's nose.

reply with ☠ if you want added to the taglist ! <3

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I was wondering if you could please do a bsf colbyxreader where the reader’s depression has been awful and he takes care of her, leading to more than friends?

🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Taking Care of You - Colby Brock

Summary: Colby worries about reader after not hearing from them for a few days

Warnings: depression [please read with care], mostly fluff

Word Count: 1065

・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・

You were in bed, half asleep when you hear your bedroom door creep open, “Go away.” You mumble from under the covers.

“Glad to know you’re still alive.” Colby’s voice is soft, “I was gonna ask if you’re good, but from the looks of it, you’re not.”

“What gave that away?” You shoot back, your tone plain, “the fact that I haven’t talked to you in three days or the fact that I didn’t care who was coming into my room?”

You feel the weight of Colby sink down on the side of your bed, “All of it.”

It’s silent for a second before he sighs, moving to lay next to you, “Come here.” He lays his arm over your waist, “How long has it been bad, y/n?”

You don’t fight him, you move back next to him, tears instantly filling your eyes because you can hear the genuine concern in his voice.

“Few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” Colby’s voice break quietly, “Sweetheart..” he tightens his grip on you, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You sniffle, “You’ve been filming, that’s more important than-“

He cuts you off, “I swear to god if you say that anything is more important than you I’m going to be pissed.” He slides his hand up, brushing hair from your face before swiping a tear away with his thumb, “Nothing, to me, is more important than you.”

You don’t say anything.

“Your head.. it’s a dangerous place right now, sweetheart.” His thumb gently drags over the skin of your arm, “But I mean it, when I told you call me, text me, show up at my house, whatever, I meant it. I’m here for you. I don’t care if I’m getting my ass handed to me by a spirit on the other side of the world, if you need me, I’m answering that call or catching the first flight back to you.”

His hold tightens on you as he places a kiss to your forehead, “You’re important. So, so important to me.”

You roll over, shifting around so your cheek is pressed to his chest, “I just..” you sniffle, “it’s just been bad thought after bad thought.” You shrug, “I’m in a rut, a deep, rut. I don’t know how to pull myself out of it.”

“That’s why I’m here, sweetheart. I’m going to help. I want to help.” Colby rubs your back, “We’ll go at your pace, whatever you need, I’m here.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead, “I told Sam not to schedule anything for a few days because I just had a feeling you were gonna need me.” He chuckles and you smile, “Yeah, even if I don’t admit it, I always need you.”

“That’s okay, you’re just stubborn. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“I love you.” You whisper back, “So much more than I probably should.”

There’s a silent pause, both of you taking in each other’s words and Colby nods, “You can love me all you want, you’re who I always think about first.” He glances down at you, “Just didn’t want to push you, you know?”

You shift around, looking up at him, “You really mean that?”

He nods, “‘Course I do.” He smiles, “You’re who I want, but I was waiting for you, guess I should have pushed just a little bit, huh?”

“Couldn’t have hurt anything.” You laugh slightly, giving him a smile and Colby smiles, “There she is.” He reaches up, his hand brushing along your cheek, “I really do love you, you’ve been there for everything for me, how can it not be you, you know?”

You nod in agreement, “exactly how I feel about you, Colby.”

His eyes search your face, taking in the moment, “You know if something were to ever happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do, but I know it wouldn’t be good.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Colby.” You run your hand down his arm, “I’m right here.”

“I know, I just..” he sighs, “I know.” He pulls you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your head, “I got you, if anything happens to you, it’ll have to happen to me first.”

You smile, wrapping your arm around his waist. You lay there with him for a little bit, just taking in the moment which is helping pull you from the trenches.

“I need a shower. I don’t know how you’re this close to me.” You admit, “I haven’t showered in three days.”

“Doesn’t bother me.” Colby shoots back, “But, if I must let you go, you can go shower.” He loosens his arms and watches as you sit up, “I’ll be here. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

After your shower, you walk back into your room to see Colby has changed your bedsheets and he’s finding something on the tv, “How do you feel now?” He glances up at you.

You nod, walking over to sit on the bed next to him, “Better, actually. A lot better.” You glance down, “Thank you for doing this.” You motion to the bed and he shrugs, “You don’t have to thank me, I like taking care of you.”

He extends his arm out and you move down to lay against his body.

“I didn’t know if you were hungry or not, but I ordered pizza anyway. I’ll be here in twenty or so.”

You nod, “Thank you.” You look up at him, reaching up to slowly turn his chin towards you and you gently press your lips to his.

His hand presses firm against your back, pulling you closer as his lips press to yours. He smiles within the kiss, “Sealing the deal, huh?”

“Something like that.” You laugh quietly, moving to rest your head on his shoulder, “I’m just.. really grateful for you, Colby.”

He nods, smiling as he looks back at the tv, “You’re literally everything to me, y/n. I know what you mean.”

・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・

Going to try and push out some shortish one shots to makeup for lost time. I still feel like absolutely shit, but I miss you guys and I miss writing! 🖤 thank you so much for reading! I love you all so much. Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

tw. choking. mentions of hate fucking. please proceed with caution.

☆. . . YOU HATE CHRIS. you hate him with a burning passion. he's loud, annoying, and too overly confident and cocky that it makes you sick to your stomach. he lives and breathes to tease you, to rile you up and cause a reaction only to have the satisfaction of calling you dramatic.

you loathe him. chris knows this, and of course, he thrives off of it—making it his own personal mission to make you angry at least three three times a day. he makes small comments here and there, he steals your shit and refuses to give it back until you beg him for it, he mocks you when you talk, and he tries to teasingly trip you up whenever you walk by.

it's a game for him—a sick and twisted game that makes you want to strangle him.

you've never laid your hands on chris—minus a few arm punches and elbow nudges in the stomach to get him to shut the fuck up. but the first time you actually snapped with the intent of putting him in his place was when chris took his teasing a step too far.

your hands were around his throat before you fully could comprehend what was happening, squeezing a little as you curse and shout at the top of your lungs while straddling his lap for a better grip, threatening the little punk for making your life a living hell.

chris is cackling, finding amusement in your anger as he tries to peel you off him, digging his hands under your armpits to tickle you, pinching your sides to throw you off and bucking his legs to jerk you around, but his attempts come to a halt when he feels the way you're moving on top of him—your hips accidentally grinding down on his own to keep yourself stable above him.

he swallows thickly, his eyes blown out wide as he stares up at you, his hands unmoving on your waist. you go to make a comment, to demand who the fuck he was staring at until you feel it—his cock straining against your inner thigh.

you immediately reel back in surprise, but chris' grip tightens, keeping you trapped in his hold which makes you unable to move off his lap without struggling, causing you to rub yourself on his cock that continues to chub up in his pants.

you call him a sick fuck, chiding him—degrading him—for enjoying what's happening, but he's not listening, too busy panting with each movement of your hips.

you raise your hand to hit his arm for his attention, but he's quick to grab it, pressing the palm of your hand back around his throat tightly as he begs you to squeeze again.

you're dumbfounded, unable to form a coherent sentence as you stare at him incredulously, wondering if this was just another trick of his.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the position you're in, and you finally allow yourself to wrap your fingers around his throat for a quick experimental squeeze as you grind your clothed cunt down on his cock.

chris is gasping and grunting through strained curses, his own fingers digging into your waist to urge you to move faster, and it doesn't take long for him to remove both of your clothes in a messy and awkward rush, begging to be touched and pleased.

it's exciting—exhilarating—to have sex with someone you despise so much, feeling their cock pound into your slick heat with vigour, using teeth to bite at any available skin you both can reach.

but that's what makes it so fun, especially when you're fucking each other with so much pent up frustrations and hatred.

divider credits. @/fleurwy

© STURNIOZ

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

Fb!Chris being so high and wanting to just lazily play with Bun so he’s sitting behind her just teasing her and playing with her nipples and rubbing her clit and she’s going crazy 🫢

you're trying to sleep—keyword: trying.

but you can't, not with chris constantly shifting behind you with sluggish movements, causing the mattress to creak and the sheets to rustle. you're tired, exhausted even, especially after helping clean up after a raging frat party that left the house a complete disaster.

you usually help clean up the next day—always waking up early to start. but one of the frat brothers, who is a major clean freak, couldn't handle the state it was left in without having to do something about it.

it was funny, see him so wide-eyed, drunk, out of his mind on whatever drug he took and whizzing around the floorboards with a vacuum and trash bag. but helping him means you joined chris in bed a little later than planned, and because you're so tired, you weren't really in the mood to use up little energy you had left to have sex.

chris, despite being so high and lazily, seems to still be in the mood.

you're a little surprised when you feel his arm slip around your waist from behind—shocked and fully believing that he's about to cuddle you.

but of course, that never happens, that's not the norm.

the normal is him fumbling to shove his hand up your shirt, palming at your breast, thumbing your nipple. you make a soft noise, trying to arch away from him even though you already feel the ache beginning to spread in your lower tummy, the arousal building up.

he's not saying a word—maybe because he's too high to even make a coherent sentence.

you don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

he continues to grope you, and you shiver when you feel the warmth of his breath fan across the back of your neck as he shifts closer, rolling your nipple between his fingers one last time before his hand slides down your stomach, heading toward the waistband of your sleep shorts.

you open your mouth to say something—you don't know what you're going to say, but it doesn't even matter anyway, not when his hand slips beneath to cup your pussy, rubbing at your clit.

curling your fingers around the pillows in a tight grip to keep yourself grounded, you squeeze your eyes shut, making quiet, airy sounds as he lazily plays with you—rubbing your clit in circular motions, dipping his middle finger between your puffy folds to stroke around your hole.

a gasp fleets past your lips and your head tilts back, almost knocking his chin as he slides two fingers in side, pumping him in and out slightly as his thumb massages your clit in lazy motions.

your thighs jerk and squeeze around his hand instinctively, only to wince and whimper as you feel his teeth snag at your shoulder in warning—creating indents in your skin.

"stop it.." he drawls sluggishly, his words barely audible, muffled against you. "open 'em. lemme play w'you..."

© STURNIOZ

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

I’ve paused uploading this one for now. The first three chapters can be found below, but the completed story is currently only on AO3 and Wattpad.

PART 1: THE MARK OF CAIN

Main Masterlist || On AO3 || On Wattpad

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Aussie!Reader

Summary: You knew you were screwed. Everything had been off since the moment you’d woken up in that hospital after your night out. But it wasn’t until you were accused of international fraud and taken to the local police station that it became clear, you were well and truly fucked. At least Agent Smith seemed to believe you and had an inkling as to what the wounds were on your body. You had been given fresh hope and the end was in sight. Or was it?

Word Count: 283k words

Tags: strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual SMUT, ret-gone, mystery, language, Aussie slang and references (to the point it’s crack sometimes), Dean bears the Mark of Cain

A/N: As requested, welcome to the world of Glowworm. This was my very first fic. She’s a little rough around the edges, and to quote Dean in 11x04 - “Mistakes were made, mm-hmm,” but that just makes her even more Hard-Yakka.

The story follows a timeline made by hells_half_acre on Livejournal, and starts off mid Season nine, weaving in and out of canon. It is currently on hiatus, but with 60 chapters spread over two parts to catch up on, who knows, maybe it will be completed by the time we get there.

I’m tossing up whether to post this weekly or twice a week because I’m also still uploading To You I Belong. Let me know what you’d prefer. Enjoy! - Beth ❤️

*uploading paused for now, you can find the full story on AO3 and Watrpad using the links above

1. You Don't Exist

2. The Fugitive and Her Keeper

3. It's All in the Details

4. What's the Time Mr Wolf

5. The Bunker

6. Home Alone (with Kevin Tran)

7. Get Inked

8. Always Feels Like Tuesday

9. Little Koala

10. Location, Location, Location

11. We're Both Fine

12. Room 7B

13. The Demon and the Glowworm

14. Why My Foot?

15. The Wizard and Her Wand

16. Ask Jeeves

17. It Was Dean Winchester, at the Impala, with the Handcuffs

18. Hex Bags and Girly Girls Don't Mix

19. Ageless

20. Teenagers Aren't Monsters

21. The Blood on His Hands

22. Tell Me Your Story

23. One Whole Year

24. A Slice of Apple Pie

25. Was it Bach, or Simpson?

26. Two Redheads Aren't Better Than One

27. Honey and Babe

28. Tonight I'm Getting Over You

29. The Deal

30. My Door is Always Open

31. Waiting With the Enemy

32. When Later Becomes Now

33. A Few Days of Snow

34. How to Play Nice and Influence Hunters

35. Cruel Jokes

36. Sheriffs and Angels

37. Keeping It Happy

38. What's Your Number Winchester?

39. There has to be Another Way

40. The Truth Hurts (but so can Withholding It)

41. Whoever Said Romance is Dead, was Wrong

42. Honey and Babe 2.0

43. Doors That Open and Close

44. The Not So Calm Before the Storm

45. It Started and Ended with Charlie

46. Removing the Mark

47. The Exact Time and Place

48. Part Two Teaser

RELATED

Blowtorches, Boots & Bugspray (timestamp)

What Happened Last Night? (this two parter was inspired by a scene that happens in chapter 40)

If you’d like to be tagged in this series or any of my other works, you can let me know in a comment/ask, or you can add yourself HERE. If you’re in my Dean TAGLIST and don’t want to be tagged in this one, please also let me know. This is super niche and I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with two series going at once.

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

Oblivious Boyfriends | D. Winchester

Summary - Dean had been neglecting his boyfriend bedroom duties and you were getting frustrated [set in season 10ish, they’re fully moved into the bunker]

Pairings - SoftDom!Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Dom Dean, daddy kink, if you squint there’s angst before the blinding smut, spanking, choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, hot angry Dean, sexual tension, talk about love and marriage??? Kinda??? It was done tastefully though I promise!!!

Cherry’s notes: Whew! That was spicy—in honor of my new phone I decided I’d post this as a thanks to people who’ve supported me throughout my writing journey <3. I’m still getting used to this writing format that tumblr has so pls be nice!!!

P.S ~ This may have been sorter than intended due to tumblr deleting half of this while I wasn’t looking. Still upset about that. Also sorry for the time delay because of said tumblr issues, had to rewrite most of it + an ending -_-.

Word count: about 1.2k

You were kind of being a bitch today. But in your defense, your boyfriend Dean had been so busy with work that he hardly had time to satisfy your in the bedroom needs. When you’d try and communicate that this was becoming an issue you’d been brushed off every. single. time. So naturally you started to get frustrated and decided to take control into your own hands for the time being.

“Y/n, have you seen my gun?” Dean announced himself as he stumbled into the library. You just continued to sit there and do your research without so much as a morsel of acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Y/n have you seen my gun?” only this time he got a small clench of the jaw and a silent flare of the nostrils. Still with no response he decided to try a third time when you suddenly just got up and left leaving him completely alone in the library.

Wondering what he did he promptly followed you, but once he realized he wasn’t getting far by just following in your footsteps he bravely spoke, “Okay, seriously, is this how we’re acting today?”.

This immediately caught your attention but you showed no signs of making a huge scene so you quickly and calmly stopped while turning around to face him while replying with, “I don’t know Dean, is it?”.

He really didn’t like the passive aggressiveness in your tone. It hadn’t helped that you’d quickly spun around and once again resumed ignoring him. Being ignored was one of his top ten pet peeves and you knew it. That’s exactly why you chose this method to piss him off. Get him all worked up, he’d have to take his frustrations out on you then.

“What the hells’ that supposed to mean?” He countered, following you into the kitchen.

“It means that if you don’t know then it’s not worth talking about.” You said truthfully. Suddenly Dean found himself recalling the days to see if he’d missed a birthday, a dinner, an anniversary, anything that would constitute this type of treatment and he came up empty.

As you noticed Dean sitting there dumbfounded you took it upon yourself to grab one of his beers from the fridge and march back out successfully initiating phase one.

You’d been toying with the idea for quite some time but never had the means or justification until now, you were going to go around the house and dump all of the alcohol.

This was seemingly easy considering after your and deans little spat, he’d decided to give you some space to cool off seeing that you were angry with him. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do what you needed to do. This was phase two.

Phase three was to just sit back and watch the anger seep from deep within Dean Winchesters veins until he couldn’t see anything but red.

Sam had been on a hunting trip for the last couple of days and you were thankful because the things he would’ve heard…

“Y/N! Where is all the beer?!” Dean hollered as you passed him in the kitchen.

“I dumped it.” You simply said. Deans face went slate.

“You-you…dumped it.” He said as both a statement and a question. You could see the vein on the side of his neck start to pop and you knew he was close to blowing a gasket at how he had been treated.

“Yup. I dumped it. Decided that we’re now alcohol free. Have fun with your green juices and detox tea.” You were beginning to walk away when he grabbed you and spun you back around so that your chests were touching and he was holding your wrists on both sides of your head.

“Is there something that needs to be sorted out? Cause’ I’m getting’ real tired of the way things have been going around here.” He seethed. He probably just wanted a nice cold beer after working a long hard case all day but you weren’t about to let that happen. You were horny and determined to do something about it.

You got closer to his face and begun to look into his eyes while simultaneously brushing your lips together with his. Nudging your nose against his you whispered, “if there was a problem you’d know.” And you ripped yourself away from him and swiftly dropped out of the room beginning to feel yourself getting wetter by the instant.

Not even ten seconds later Dean came marching out of the kitchen behind you demanding that you work this out by pushing you against the hallway wall. You responded by grabbing him by his belt loops and smashing his hips against yours. He’d finally gotten the hint.

“Is this what you wanted? Was my pretty baby just horny and desperate for her daddies attention?” He said as he grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. You whimpered at the gruffness of his touch, desperate and craving more.

“I need you to answer me, y/n. You know daddy doesn’t like it when you go silent.” Dean enforced. You let out the tiniest little ‘yes’ lost in your own world of pleasure and fulfillment.

“Louder, y/n.” He commanded putting slightly harder pressure onto the sides of your throat that were sure to bruise later but you didn’t care. The feeling of his body on your body was enough to drive you wild.

“Yes!” You deeply moaned wrapping your hands around his hips and flushing your pelvis’s together. Dean leaned down and planted an earth shattering kiss on your lips, tongue swirling around with your own while he still held the position of holding your neck firmly in place without making you dizzy from the lack of air.

“Up.” Dean forced. Slipping his hand under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his torso. When you were situated your hands found their way to his hair to gently tug at the roots.

Hiking you up by your ass you were looming over him with every adjustment. Your hands made their way to either side of his face while you ferociously kissed him. He started to stumble his way down the hallway, careful not to drop you. You moaned as his grip on your ass got tighter the more aroused he was getting.

The warm smell of cinnamon from your hair, the combined scent your vanilla bourbon perfume and your honey body lotion, it reminded him of home. Although you’d been getting in spats and arguments all day you’d still somehow made him feel loved and cared for by the way you’d responded to his touch.

It was at this very moment he decided that he wanted to marry you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or hell— maybe not even next week, but someday If you’d let him.

Finally stumbling into your shared room dominant Dean was back in action. He gently put you down and then shoved you back onto the bed signifying the fact that he was done playing the game you’d been playing all day.

When you adjusted yourself on the bed he immediately ripped your pants off annoyed at the extra fabric keeping the two of you apart. Dipping down he gently put his right hand to your jaw and repeated what you had to him earlier. Brushing your lips together your noses tenderly touched and he gave you one last affectionate kiss before looking down at your tank top and ripping it in two.

Your eyes widened with desire, you’d never seen Dean like this and it was extremely sexy. The mix of softhearted kissing and rough manhandling was driving you insane. Kissing down your stomach the torn shirt was quickly discarded never to be seen again.

Only in your bralette and underwear you start to feel cold with Dean still fully clothed. Grabbing him by his hair you pull his head up from your panty line. Giving him a single peck on the lips you start to peel off the layers of flannel and cotton until his top half was fully nude.

Reaching down to undo his belt buckle he stops you with a questioning glare. He shoves your hands away and moved away from the bed and to the closet where a medium sized black box was laying on the top shelf. Getting that box down you knew that something freaky was about to happen.

Pulling out four long black ropes he looks back at you with a smirk. You gulp and back away slowly, however he was faster and started tying your left wrist tightly to the headboard. Positioning you in the middle of the bed he ties your right to the other side of the headboard.

Deciding to discard the last two ropes, he resumes your playful foreplay now teasing you at the fact that you can no longer touch him in the way you wanted to.

“M’ gonna fuck you in this pretty little bra. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Been walking around all day getting on my nerves so I’d have no choice but to fuck the aggression out. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.” He says menacingly pulling off your underwear.

Leaving your bare pussy in the cold Dean jumps off the bed and begins to slowly undress. And I mean slowly. You thought you were about to combust when you finally saw Dean unbuckle his pants and slowly drop them.

Getting back on the bed Dean slides his hands up and down your curves on your sides, trailing down to your hip bones and finally your throbbing heat. It really was no surprise that you’d gotten worked up so easy considering you and Dean hadn’t had really any sex in almost four months. Orgasms, yes. Sex, no.

It was killing you not being intimate with Dean like you used to. So when he finally put his cold hands on your warm aching pussy you could’ve cried in relief even though it was only through your panties you could feel his fingertips rubbing up against your clit causing you to softly moan in delight.

Gripping the tightly tied ropes Dean tormented you by pulling off your panties and just sat there. Staring. It would’ve made you insecure had you not known that Dean would’ve loved you no matter what you perceived your vagina to look like.

“Would you let me put a baby in you?” Dean asks out of the blue. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched, “In the future of course. Your still on birth control, right?” He thought out loud. You were speechless so all you could do was nod and let out a small ‘uh-huh’.

Dean could tell you were now really tense after that question so he took his hands and smoothed them over your stomach and said, “Don’t worry. Not until your ready. But until then, I’d like to practice.”

Your muscles were slowly untensing as Dean assured you there would be no baby making until your ready. “If we’re practicing, do you mind going in raw? I’d like to be closer with you.”

Dean was now blushing but tried to hide it through dominance. He spread your knees apart and quickly dove in licking and sucking your clit. Pulling at the ropes, you moaned and groaned until you were so close to cumming that you could cry.

Dean could tell how close you were so he sped up his tongue motions and hooked his arms around the base of your thighs so you couldn’t move anywhere.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as your first orgasm took over you. Dean wasted no time in sliding his manhood into you with great force.

Putting his hands at your hips he began roughly thrusting into you at an angle that kept hitting your g-spot over an over again. As you were getting louder and louder with your moans Dean reached down in between your legs and rubbed your clit. He was fucking you so hard at this point you were seeing spots.

“Yeah. Your such a good girl. Taking it so good for me. Gonna be doing this to make a baby one day, huh sweetheart. Look at me.” He said as your eyes were starting to droop. Your eyes tiredly opened and you seen Dean look at you like your the queen of the world. His world. With adoration and love.

“Gonna let me fill you up, hmm? Gonna let me take care of you while your carrying our child? Gonna let me go out at three am to fill some ridiculous request of bread and butter pickles from that grocery store half an hour away?” Dean asks with a fond smirk on his face. Like he’d be so excited to be able to do those things for you.

Just hearing how happy it would make Dean to be your caretaker in your time of need makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not just because he’s still fucking the life out of you.

Once you get close enough to the edge Dean starts to get greedy. He wants you to cum and he wants it now. “Give it to me y/n. Now.” He says wrapping his hand around your throat and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Seconds later it felt like fireworks had been let off in your stomach with how hard you were orgasming. At one point you were certain that you were seeing stars.

“Fuck! Dean!” You moaned as you made other noises that you had no idea you could even make. Before you could even come down Dean slipped out of you and was undoing the ropes.

“All fours. Now.” Was the command. Still a little dizzy, you comply wanting to see where this was going.

Upon getting on all fours dean was already behind you thrusting upwards at a new angle. Letting out a deep groan you dropped to your elbows and grabbed the sheets.

“Having that attitude all day really drove me nuts all day, y’know that? Now I get to fuck it out of you and I couldn’t be happier.” He said slapping your ass hard. You yelped and tried to go forward but his hands at the crease of your hip and thigh bone wouldn’t let you.

“Your not going nowhere. Your gonna sit here and let me breed you like a good little slut.” You couldn’t deny hearing those words made the sex ten times hotter. When you leaned your head back to moan deans hand was there to grab you by your hair and continue fucking your pussy until you exploded.

Pulling your hair was the final step in your third and final orgasm. Pulling away slightly at the overstimulation Dean speeds up, chasing his own climax. With one last grunt Dean came spilling into you with force.

“Oh God,” you shuddered, suddenly very cold. Goosebumps lining your skin, you get off the bed leaving Dean to fend for himself.

After you cleaned up you got back in bed with Dean. “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want kids with me?” You asked as you lifted up the covers where Dean currently resided.

“Well yeah, I’d also like to put a ring on your finger too whenever you’ll let me.” Dean said shyly playing with the edging on the covers.

You quietly smiled and kissed Dean as you settled down. “I love you, and I want to marry you. But kids are out for a while. At least until I’m sure one of us isn’t going to end up dead with the shit we deal with on the daily. I won’t put another generation of kids what we went through. I just won’t.”

Although Dean was disappointed, he understood. His childhood sucked and he’d do anything to make sure that his kid didn’t live the same life.

“But we can still practice though, right?” Dean asked cheekily. You laughed, “yes Dean we can still practice.”

You both chuckled when you heard a voice booming from the kitchen, “Dean, where is all the beer?!” It was Sam.

“You were kidding though about the beer weren’t you?” He asked and you laughed harder.

“No, I wasn’t. I was committed. I really dumped all the alcohol in the house. Sam will understand given his healthy lifestyle.” Dean groaned and sunk into the mattress. You were still cracking up at the whole situation now that you felt better after your release.

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

Old Faces

Summary: At seventeen, Dean fell hard for the girl in his high school English class. He never got a chance to make a move before he was on the road again. When he bumps into her working the same case as himself, he wants to know how her apple pie life got flipped upside down…

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!…

________________

Keep reading

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

「 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 ➤ ✪ 」 「 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ➤ ᡣ𐭩 」 「 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 ➤ ⟡ 」 「 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 ➤ 𖦹」

𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙡𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙢 ✪

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ᡣ𐭩

𝙛𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙣𝙖𝙥 𖦹

𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙞𝙛 ✪

𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙞𝙗𝙚 ✪

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝘼𝘽𝘾'𝙎 ✪

𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙡 ⟡

𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩, 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 ✪

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩 ✪

𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 ✪

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙨 𝙜𝙛'𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡 𖦹

𝙗𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙞 ᡣ𐭩

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙨 𝙜𝙛'𝙨 𝙨𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 ᡣ𐭩

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 ᡣ𐭩

𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠-𝙘𝙖𝙩!𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𖦹

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙩 ✪

𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 ✪

𝙥𝙚𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙧𝙡 ✪

𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮-𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙮 ✪

𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙣'𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢 ✪

𝐒𝐡𝐲 & 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 ✪

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 ᡣ𐭩

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 ᡣ𐭩

𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐬✪

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐟𖦹

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳 ᡣ𐭩

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞ᡣ𐭩

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 ✪

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 ✪

𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐠 ✪

𝐨𝐱𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐧 ✪

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 ⟡

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 ᡣ𐭩

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

✯𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰✯

IN WHICH... Y/n is cheating on her boyfriend with Matt

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!!! cheating, smut, unprotected sex, lying.

this was for a request i had gotten. I hope anon likes it.

Y/n had a secret.

Every Sunday Y/n would tell her boyfriend Scott she was going to church, worshiping the god that gave her life and thanking him. She would dress up in the most prettiest dress, pairing it with her knee socks and Mary Janes.

She would leave the house and walk down to the town church, counting down the steps before she arrived. She would greet the familiar faces of the churchgoers and wait patiently for her friend to come.

Once her friend arrived, she would leave the church and they would drive to a parking lot. It wasn't like she really lied to her boyfriend, technically she still went to church, she just didn't stay. She technically did get down on her knees, pray, and worship...it just wasn't to the same god as everyone else.

She was cheating.

The so-called god she was worshipping, was a guy named Matt. She doesn't even remember how they met, but what she did remember was how good he made her feel. She loved the way he touched her, his fingers feeling like a ball of a thousand suns as they slipped inside of her. The way he ate her out as if it was his favorite meal...She craved it.

But Scotty doesn't know.

He doesn't know that the two adulterers decided to see each other on other days as well as Sundays. Y/n would make up excuses on top of excuses just to see Matt.

Her favorite excuse was telling Scott she was going shopping. Scott thought nothing of it considering the girl was a shopping addict, always buying clothes, purses, makeup, and even hair clips.

Once again it technically wasn't a lie, she did get to go shopping. Matt paid for everything and she repaid him by letting him fuck her in the dressing room. They almost got caught, an associate knocked on the door and asked if everything was ok. She was too fucked out to answer and Matt didn't want to stop, so he spurted out a quick "yeah".

It was a rush of adrenaline for them. the idea of being caught by Scott and or others only making them do it more.

Matt couldn't believe how stupid Scott was. there's no way he believes Y/n is so busy shopping or doing whatever excuse she tells him. He was too trusting of the promiscuous girl.

The same girl that he's always thrusting into at any chance he gets.

There was a certain instance when the two were having sex in his car, and Scott called. Y/n had declined the call about three times before Matt demanded her to answer. She tried to tell him no, but with a quick thrust of his hips, she listened.

Matt didn't slow down, in fact, he sped up. The whole car was shaking and Y/n was doing her best not to moan out.

"Did you want to come over tonight? I was thinking we could fool around."

Matt grips her hips tighter and slams his hips even harder, a loud screech slipping out of Y/n's mouth.

"Y/n? You ok?"

Somehow Y/n managed to say yes, hoping Scott would just get off the phone, but it seemed like the world hated her. Scott stayed on the phone for another twenty minutes talking and rambling about stuff Y/n could care less about. Matt made it impossibly hard for her to stay sane during the conversation.

Maybe this was her karma for cheating.

The two managed to get away with the phone call, Y/n quickly hanging up without saying goodbye to Scott.

"You gonna fuck him? Hm? You gonna be a whore and fuck your boyfriend after fucking me?"

She shook her head no, a wide grin coating Matt's face.

"Atta girl, he can't fuck you like I can."

It seemed like after that the adulterers were on a high, they had sex in multiple parking lots in broad daylight, Y/n being on top with her top down, her breast bouncing as Matt''s bucks his hips.

They even did it on Scott's front lawn in the snow. It was uncomfortable, but the adrenaline rush they got was almost better than their orgasms.

There was an instance on Scott's birthday where the two ended up having sex in Scott's own bed. y/n knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. She loved the excitement Matt brought into her life...She loved him.

And the feelings were mutual.

When Matt walked down the stairs a few moments after Y/n, he had watched his girl waltz right into Scott's arms, the male kissing her on the cheek. He could see the look of annoyance on Y/n's face and that was enough for him to decide.

Scotty had to go, and Matt was going to tell him himself.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie @sturnstvr

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

TAKE IT OUT ON ME

bf!nick x male!reader

summary: in which Nick takes his frustrations out on reader

type: fic ✩ genre: smut ✩ pov: reader’s ✩ word count: 2.1K

warnings: use of y/n, use of 👀…the d word, swearing, oral and anal sex, degradation, hair pulling, rimming, fingering, spitting, edging if you squint, choking, slapping (DNI if you’re uncomfortable), top!nick x bottom!reader

a/n: good evening, whores (affectionate)! saurrr if you know me, then you know that i’m a bottom nick stan for life. the simple thought of him riding a nice big dick is what brings me joy every day lmao. that being said, top nick is so foreign to me, but i wanted to take a risk for all my nick boys that i love so much. i have to give a huge shoutout to queen ki, @nickssidewitch, she knows why 😉. y’all this fr had me clenching my thighs so tight, god men are so fucking lucky ffs. i’m so nervous about this, i really hope you all enjoy it. i’ll be having a very cold shower now, byeeee 👋🏾. happy reading! ✩

‘Sometimes I don’t mind you

havin’ the worst day’

“Fucking BITCH!” You hear Nick yell from upstairs as you enter your home, along with things being slammed on the floor. You sigh, leaving your shoes by the door, before coming up the steps. You place your bag down on the couch as you make your way to the bedroom. You stood by the door, leaning your shoulder against the frame, watching him.

Nick was swearing under his breath, picking up the items he’d thrown across the room, not even noticing your presence. You take in his appearance; his shirt almost cropped from how small it was, his hair completely disheveled from tugging at it in frustration, the way his tattooed arms flexed as he clenched his fists, all while his blue fresh love sweats hung dangerously low on his hips. You bit your lip, the sight of him turning you on so much, you could feel yourself growing harder by the second as your eyes continue to scan his body.

“What are you looking at?” he gripes, snapping you out of your apparent trance. His piercing blue eyes lock with yours, eyebrows furrowing, and suddenly you feel a warmth in your cheeks.

“H-Huh?” you stutter in defeat, unable to form a full sentence at that moment.

“Are you deaf?” he replies sternly, stepping closer to you.

“Bad day, huh?” you ask nervously, biting the inside of your cheek, not really wanting to set him off more than he already is.

“Something like that,” he starts, rubbing his eyes before pacing the floor in front of me.

“There’s no fucking audio on the video, and we have nothing else to post for tomorrow. I have to decide on the new flavors for the next drop, but I don't like any of them, and I can’t think of any new ones for the life of me. I can’t find either of my fucking glasses, and you know I can’t see for shit. I’m so frustrated, I don’t know what to do” he lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

You honestly felt bad for the brunette man in front of you, he’s overworked and certainly under appreciated. Yet, you couldn’t help finding him so god damn sexy in this disgruntled state. You open your mouth to speak before closing it, biting on your lip as you think of what you’re about to say next. You wanted nothing more than to be supportive, but all you could think about right now was being under him.

“I’m so sorry, baby, that sounds like an awful day,” you pout, pulling him closer by the waistband of his sweats.

“Why don’t you let out some of that frustration on me, hm?” you grin, looking up at him with lust in your eyes.

Nick licks his lips as his eyes darken at your proposition, “Oh yeah, gonna let me take it out on you, pretty boy? Be my little fucktoy tonight?” he smirks, grabbing you by the waist, your bodies flushed against each other, and you gasp. You can feel how hard he’s getting already.

“Use me however you want,” you offer, a submissive smile playing on your lips.

“Such an eager little slut for me, I think I'll take you up on that offer,” his voice dripped with lust.

He leans down, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “On your knees. Now.” He commands, and you drop to your knees without hesitation.

“So pretty, but…” he trails off, running his thumb across your bottom lip, and you wrap your lips around it, sucking gently, “You’ll look even better when you’re gagging on this dick,” he continues, smirking.

He pulls his thumb away with a pop, before hooking his fingers inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling them and his underwear off in one swift motion. His hard cock springs free, and you let out a stifled moan, your mouth watering at the sight of it. It was so big, you became lost in thought, you could hardly wait to have it buried inside you.

“It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he says, before grabbing a fistful of your hair, pushing your face towards his length.

“Suck it, and don’t even fucking think about teasing, or you’ll regret it” he threatens, as you reach to grab his cock in your hand, but it gets smacked away.

“No hands,” he demands, and you nod, looking up at him before taking him in your mouth.

He groans at the warm feeling of your mouth around him. You began moving your head back and forth, sucking hard on his shaft. “Shit,” he moans, biting hard on his bottom lip, and your eyes locked with his. The way he was reacting to you made your cock twitch. He pushes your head down further, and you relax your throat. He bucks his hips, his fist still tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat.

“God, I love your fucking mouth,” Nick moans, as he continues. You start to gag around him, and his body trembles at the sound. He can feel his release starting to build.

“Not yet,” he says, as he pulls you off of him. You gasp, inhaling deeply, as you finally catch your breath.

He helps you up, grabbing you by the waist before crashing his lips against yours. He grabs the hem of your shirt, lifting it up, and you break the kiss to help him pull it off. He removes his own shirt quickly, and before you knew it, your back was being pressed against the mattress, as his broad frame hovered over you. He starts kissing your neck, sucking, and biting at your skin. His tongue smoothing over each mark he creates, and you whine.

“Nick…” you moan softly, squirming beneath him.

“So fucking needy,” he chuckles. He kisses along your chest, his warm tongue flicking one of your nipples as he rolls the other in between his fingers. You moan, your back arching into his touch. His lips trail down to your abdomen, leaving wet kisses until he reaches the waistband of your pants. He palms you through your jeans, before undoing them, pulling them down along with your boxers. You lift your hips to help him take them off, and your cock springs free.

“This all for me?” Nick teases.

He flips you over onto your stomach, grabbing you by the hips, and lifting you up onto your knees so you’re bent over in front of him, and he lets out a low groan. He smacks your ass, then squeezes it, and you let out a soft moan.

“Please…” you whimper, pushing your ass against him.

“Begging will get you everywhere, darling,” Nick says smirking, as his large hands spread your cheeks. He leans down, licking a strip from your balls to your hole, and you gasp at feeling. His tongue laps at your entrance, his hands rubbing, and massaging your ass cheeks.

“Mmph fuck,” you moan, biting hard on your lip. His tongue draws circles around your hole, before sliding in. “Ohh my god,” you moan out, your back arching even more as you bury your face in the sheets. He continues to eat you out, licking and sucking at your hole, his tongue darting in and out rapidly.

He pulls back after a few minutes, smacking your ass once more before reaching over towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube. He squeezes some out on his fingers, then applies it. He slides one finger inside you, pumping in and out slowly. His aching cock throbs at the squelching sound. He slides in another, this time pumping faster, and you moan, pushing back against his hand.

“You’re so fucking pathetic,” He teases, smacking your ass again before sliding in a third finger. He pumps his digits in and out, spreading them every so often, stretching you, as you moan over and over.

“I need you so bad, daddy, please…” you whine desperately, sending chills down his spine, and he groans. He pulls his fingers from you, before lining himself at your entrance. Before you can even say another word, he slams his length into you. Not even giving you time to adjust, his hips snap against you at a steady pace.

“So tight,” he whispers, both hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts into you. Your moans fill the room as your fingers tangle in the sheets. He starts fucking you harder, grabbing you by your hair, pulling it as he pounds into you over and over.

“God, y/n, you feel fucking amazing,” he moans, as he continues to drill into you. The head of his cock repeatedly hits your prostate, and your body shudders. You reach down, taking your length in your hand, stroking it. The pleasure intensifies as you teeter closer to the edge.

“Ohh fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach, and suddenly he pulls out. You open your mouth to protest, until you’re being flipped onto your back once again, and you gasp at the sudden change in position.

“I wanna see your face when you cum for me,” he says, before slamming into you again. Taking one of your legs, and placing it over his shoulder, giving him deeper access. You moan, as he gains a steady rhythm. His fingers play with your nipples, the immense pleasure making your back arch into his touch.

“Nick Nick Nick,” you moan his name over and over, as he fucks you senseless.

“That’s it, baby,” he smirks, “You’re taking me so well, like a good little slut,” he praises, degradingly. He trails one of his hands to your throat, squeezing lightly as he deepens his strokes.

“Nghhh fuck, it feels so good,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets once again.

“You love it when I get angry, don’t you? It turns you on to see me so frustrated? ‘Cause you know you’ll get fucked like this?” Nick asks, his hand still wrapped around your throat, as he’s balls deep inside you. You whimper in response, his length hitting your sweet spot so perfectly, making your brain foggy.

“Aw, so drunk on my cock he can’t speak,” he starts, “Answer me.” He demands, as the palm of his hand connects with your cheek, and you let out a small gasp, biting hard on your lip from how aroused it made you.

“Y-yes, it turns me on s-so much, daddy. Love when you f-fuck me like this,” you whimper, looking at him, your eyes locking with his. You open your mouth, your tongue sticking out, and he spits in it. You moan, swallowing it down, and a lustful growl escapes his lips.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he groans, taking your leg down from his shoulder before he leans in, kissing you hungrily. You moan in between the kiss, and he slides his tongue into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck, sucking at your skin, as hips continue to snap against you, each thrust deeper than the last.

“Mm fuck, don’t stop. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you let out a desperate whimper, your eyes rolling back, as he continues his movements, picking up his pace. You feel your release start to build again, your body trembling.

“You’re shaking, baby. You gonna cum for me?” Nick whispered in your ear, before biting it.

“Y-Yes, I’m so close,” you moan, the knot in your stomach seconds from coming undone.

“I don’t remember you asking,” he teases, slowing down his pace, and you whine, your hips bucking up trying to gain more friction.

“I need to cum so bad, please. Please, I wanna cum for you,” you plead, rolling your hips against him. He takes his hand, and wraps it around your throbbing cock, stroking slowly.

“Make a mess, baby,” he encourages, his hand moving rapidly on your cock, as he starts to thrust into you again.

“Ohh, oh fuck,” you let out a stifled moan, as you cum all over your abdomen. Nick continues to fuck you through your orgasm, as he chases his own.

“Shit y/n,” he moans your name, his body stuttering as he cums inside you.

He collapses on top of you, panting, and you chuckle, running your fingers through his now damp hair. He pecks at your shoulder softly, before pulling out, and rolling off of you. Instinctively, he pulls you to his side, and you rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you, baby, for ‘helping’ me out,” he jokes, his fingers doing air quotes, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m always happy to help. Especially, if it’s gonna turn out that good,” you tease, and you both laugh.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” he suggests, before sitting up, and getting out of bed.

“And can you pleaseee help find my glasses?” he asks, helping you out of bed, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Babe, they’re on the living room table,” you say, giggling.

Nick’s eyes widened, “WHAT?!”

—

✎ signed,

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ✩

a/n: ahhhh! i hope you enjoyed this. it was such a challenge for me, i’d been working on it for literal months, not kidding. saurrr, it’ll probably be a minute before top!nick makes another appearance, hope this helps! 💋

dividers by: @/cafekitsune @/adornedwithlight

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

So I was looking at Supernatural books in Barnes and Nobel today and this is the first thing I read

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

‘ESPRESSO’ — MATT STURNIOLO

pairing. matt sturniolo x fem!reader genre. coffee shop au, first time au, fluff, smut

word count. 11.5k

❝I'm just happy I finally know your name... we've been calling you Espresso since your first few days of coming in❞

content warnings. explicit content, porn with heavy plot, loss of virginity (female), protected sex, soft sex, light nipple sucking, oral (female receiving), fingering, lots of kissing, mentions of nerves and anxiety, mentions of big dicks, mentions of stretching out.

"...And then he told me that he's not ready for a relationship, can you believe that? He's been treating me like his girlfriend for the past three months, we cuddle in the same bed almost every night, and he takes me out to dinner. I swear, men are just—"

You tune out the rest of the customers rant, letting the noise blur into the background as you focus on the task at hand, turning the nozzle on the coffee machine and carefully guiding the milk-filled pitcher under the steam wand. Your hand rests lightly on the cool metallic surface, waiting for the milk to warm to the perfect temperature.

Maya, your co-worker, stands beside you, leaning casually against the counter as she checks her watch for the third time in the past minute, her expression filled with boredom. When she catches your gaze, she quirks a small, kind smile your way, and you return it—brief but warm—before refocusing on your task.

Days like this are all too familiar, blending in together into an endless loop: wake up at 6am, clock in at the café around 7, overhear customers sharing their personal dramas (completely oblivious to how loud they're actually being), clean up after them, lock up at closing, and head back to your apartment to do it all over again the next morning.

You can't decide if it's comforting in a way, or just another reminder that you live what feels like a really fucking boring life. But the decent pay and the co-workers—Maya especially—make it hard to complain too much.

You detach the steam wand from the pitcher and reach for a cup, pumping three shots of vanilla syrup. You're just about to pour the heated milk when a sharp snap of fingers and an irritatingly loud whistle cuts through the air.

"Excuse me," you slowly turn to face the customer, resisting the urge to react to her dog-like call as she waves a manicured hand in your direction, her freshly painted French tips pointing at the cup in your hand. "I asked for five pumps of vanilla syrup—Five. And don't forget the extra caramel drizzle this time."

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. Instead, you force a tight-lipped smile, nodding as you turn your back, adding the extra vanilla syrup and making a show of counting to five.

You proceed to pour the steamed milk into the cup, followed by the needed espresso shots, and you finish it off with an extra drizzle of caramel sauce. Once the lid is secured and the cup sleeve is slid into place, you push the drink across the counter toward her.

She doesn't so much as glance at you as she places her card on the reader, snatches the drink, and strides out the door. You exhale sharply through your nose, shaking your head as a scowl tugs at your lips, but nonetheless, you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek and clean your station, wiping down the counter and preparing for the next customer.

Another day, another latte, another fucking difficult customer.

"If she whistled at me like a dog, I would've leaped over the counter and bitten her like one," Maya mutters beside you, and a genuine smile spreads across your face as you feel her arm wrap snugly around your middle, giving you a comforting squeeze. "I'll spit in her drink next time. Really. Just say the word, and I will do it."

You stifle a quiet laugh, amused by her threat. "As much as I would love that..." you turn your head to meet her gaze. "...I'd rather you not get fired."

Maya grins, her arms slipping away from your waist as she teases, "Who says I'd get caught? Nobody has to know."

You nudge her shoulder playfully, and she chuckles before turning her attention to the next customer. Meanwhile, you shift your focus to your own customer standing at the counter, greeting them with a warm smile as you take their order and punch the details into the tablet screen.

You're in the middle of plating up the cinnamon bun they ordered when the soft chime of the door bell catches your attention, and out of habit, you glance toward the door, your eyes landing on someone fairly new: a guy with tousled brown hair, partially hidden beneath a low baseball cap.

The brim of the cap and the hood of his oversized black jacket obscure his face, but you can still make out a few details—sharp cheekbones, and a hint of stubble along his jaw.

His outfit is simple: a white shirt and baggy denim jeans, paired with black boots that match his oversized jacket.

It's the kind of comfortable look you envy... you wish you could trade your uniform for something like that right now.

Not wanting to linger on him for too long, you finish up the order for the paying customer with a polite nod, and she thanks you kindly which prompts you into wishing her a wonderful day, earning a sweet smile in return.

As she walks away, your gaze instinctively shifts back to the guy, now standing in front of the counter. He's too preoccupied with his phone to notice he's next in line, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen.

"Can I take your order?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah, m'sorry," he mumbles, coughing lightly to clear his throat. His eyes stay fixed on his phone as he continues typing something, his voice distracted. "Can I have three iced americanos please?"

"Coming right up." you reply quietly, turning away to start the drinks. Maya steps in beside you, having finished her previous orders to offer a lending hand, and within moments, the iced drinks are ready.

Just as you place them on the counter and prepare to give him the total, he suddenly mutters under his breath, "You've got to be fuckin' playin' with me."

The irritation in his voice makes you freeze for a second, assuming his comment was directed at you. You hesitate before asking cautiously, "What?"

He looks up, startled by your response, and once he realises his mistake, he scrambles to explain. "Wait—no, shit. I uh... I wasn't talkin' to you, I was just..."

For the first time, he raises his head fully, and you can't help but try to get a better look at him. But even now, the brim of his cap and the hood of his jacket cast shadows over most of his face.

Still, you know he's staring at you—silent, unmoving—just by the weight of his gaze.

Feeling a bit shy under his gaze, you blink and glance away, fumbling to fill the silence as you press gently, "Just...?" 

He snaps out of his trance, the words tumbling out in an awkward ramble. "I uh—I lost a bet with my brothers, and now I have to buy 'em drinks. I thought they'd just want whatever, but um... they're makin' it difficult 'cos they both want different drinks..."

"Oh," you respond, blinking awkwardly as you glance down at the iced americanos you've already prepared. "Well, alright... I can just make you the new—"

"No!" he interrupts, his voice sharp enough to make you pause. "Fuck—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout—these drinks are fine. Really. I'll take them. They're just idiots, probably doin' this shit on purpose or somethin', I don't know."

His exasperation pulls a light laugh out of you before you can stop yourself, and the sound seems to catch him off guard, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

After a moment, he cracks a breathy laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as though he's embarrassed to have made you laugh.

When you finally give him the price, he retrieves a sleek black card from his wallet and taps it on the reader, and for a second, your professional demeanour falters. He looks you, definitely younger than you'd expect from someone carrying a black card.

A flicker of curiosity passes through your mind, but you push it aside.

It's not your business, after all.

As he adjusts his hold on the cup holders, he hesitates before looking at you again. "Thanks..." his voice trails off as his gaze drops to your nametag. He reads your name softly, so quietly you almost miss it. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And he does.

In fact, the days blur into weeks as he becomes a familiar presence at the café. Almost every day, he walks in and orders three drinks—sometimes iced americanos, sometimes a mix of different flavours.

With each visit, he greets you with a warm hello and dives into his usual ramblings about his brothers. His stories are always laced with fond adoration as he recounts whatever they all get up to, and through him, you've become a bit familiar with their personalities, even if you don't know exactly what it is they do.

Despite his frequent visits, he remains a mystery. You still haven't caught a proper glimpse of his full face, obscured by the cap and hood, nor have you learned his name yet.

On some days, after picking up his drinks, he settles at a specific table near the back of the café, close to the window. From his chosen spot, he seems to watch you, though he tries to appear nonchalant about it.

When you glance over, you occasionally catch the subtle twitch of his lips—like he’s trying not to smile but can’t quite help himself.

Normally, this type of odd behaviour from a customer might alarm you. But there's something about him that keeps you from feeling uneasy. If anything, you find yourself always looking forward to seeing him and wondering if he's watching you.

And, though you hate to admit it, you enjoy the attention from this stranger a lot.

"Espresso's late today," Maya remarks, her tone light as she wipes down the counter, frowning slightly at the coffee she spilled earlier.

Espresso—the nickname Maya came up with for the mystery guy—immediately grabs your attention, and you pause mid-swipe with your mop, glancing over your shoulder to survey the café.

It's quiet today, and only a few tables are occupied: a couple engrossed in their conversation, a college student hunched over a textbook, and an older woman savouring her coffee and cake.

"Maybe he's not coming," you suggest, turning back to the floor as you scrub the stubborn coffee stains. "He could be busy."

Maya straightens, tossing the damp cloth into the sink before crossing her arms, deep in thought. Her lips purse briefly before she turns her gaze to you. "Do you think he's famous or something?"

You raise an eyebrow at her out of nowhere assumption. "What makes you think that?"

She rolls her eyes, as if the answer is painfully obvious, and begins counting her reasons on her fingers. "He covers his face constantly, he won't tell you his name, he always pulls up in a blacked-out windowed car—"

"Wait, how do you know about the car?" Maya shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm attentive, okay? I notice these things. Anyways, he never says what he does, and he owns a black card. All these clued add up. Celebrity."

As she finishes her mini-investigation, you hum thoughtfully and set the mop aside, washing your hands at the sink before returning. "Do you actually care if he's famous?"

"Not really. I'm just nosy. Uncovering the secrets of suspicious people makes me feel like I'm in some kind of mystery film. It's fun."

Her words make you smile, and soon she’s off on a rant, proudly sharing her latest theories about some crime show she’s been currently recently. She tells you her predictions, and she even brags about guessing the culprit before the reveal, and you listen, amused.

But your attention is abruptly pulled elsewhere when the familiar chime of the doorbell echoes through the café.

Your gaze instinctively shifts to the entrance, and there he is—Espresso.

He steps inside, dressed in his usual style: a black hoodie, baggy denim jeans, and the black balenciaga cap pulled low over his face. Tufts of dark hair peek out from beneath the cap, and, as always, the brim and hood keeps his identity hidden.

A smile slides across your lips as he approaches, and you greet him warmly. "Hey, you're late today."

But your smile falters when you don't get the same warmth in return.

“Yeah, sorry.” he murmurs softly, his voice drawling with weariness. He doesn't raise his head to look at you, instead he shifts his focus to his wallet which he pulls out of his pocket. “Can I just get a hot chocolate, please?” 

“Getting bored of the other drinks already?” you tease lightly, trying your best to engage him in conversation. But the attempt fails. He doesn't respond the way you had hoped, he just quietly taps his card against the machine and walks toward his usual table without another word.

You watch him go, a faint uneasy feeling settling in your chest. Maya catches your eye, and her puzzled expression mirrors your own. You shrug, unsure what to say as you turn to prepare the drink.

Once his hot chocolate is ready, you hesitate for a moment before deciding to do something small to—hopefully—brighten his day. Grabbing a plate, you carefully add a slice of cake, promising Maya with a quick whisper that you'll cover the cost later.

She raises an eyebrow at you but doesn't argue, and you can feel her gaze on your back as you make your way over to his table.

"Here you go," you say softly, setting the drink and plate down in front of him.

He reaches for the hot chocolate but pauses, his hand hovering mid-air as his eyes land on the slice of cake. "I... I didn't order—"

"I know," you interrupt, your tone gentle. "It's on me. You seem like you're having an off day, so..."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He just stares at the cake, as if he's trying to decide how to respond. Then, he slowly tilts his head back to look up at you, and you catch the slight parting of his lips before they curve into a sheepish smile.

"That's really sweet of you... thank you." his voice is softer than you expected, and it makes your heart do an unexpected little flip.

"No worries," you reply, shaking your head lightly to brush off his gratitude. "I hope you enjoy—"

"Do you, uh, think you can sit down with me?" his question catches you completely off guard, and your words falter mid sentence. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you process his request, and he quickly adds. "If you can, obviously. If you're busy, I get it. That's fine... but if you're not... that would be fine too."

You glance around at the café, taking in the calm and quiet atmosphere. It's not busy at all—just a handful of customers scattered at their tables. When your gaze shifts to Maya, you find her already watching you, gesturing animatedly as she encourages you to take the invitation.

She even redirects your boss, who's just emerged from the back, sending them back into the office with a distraction.

Collecting your thoughts, you respond. "I can sit with you for a couple of minutes."

His shoulders visibly relax at your answer as you grab a chair and slide into the seat across from him, tucking yourself beneath the small table. You're about to ask if he's okay, if he'd like to talk about his clearly hard day, when his next action leaves you completely speechless.

Without a word, he pulls down his hood and tugs off his cap, running his fingers through his hair. and all you can do is stare, your breath catching in your throat.

His face is... gorgeous.

Messy strands of slightly grown-out hair frame his features. Strong cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and those eyes—bright and piercing. He's even more attractive than you imagined, and the realisation sends your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, warmth spreading across your face.

"My name is Matt, by the way," he says, breaking the silence as he picks up the mug of hot chocolate and takes a small sip. Matt. The name repeats in your mind, and you can't help but think how fitting it feels for him. "M'sorry for not introducin' myself before. I wasn't trying to be, like, rude or anythin'... I just can't do that sometimes."

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but it's hard to form a coherent response when all you can think about is how his voice fits him as well as his name. But then, his last words replay in your head, tugging at your curiosity.

Your eyebrows knit together as confusion settles in, "You can't do that?"

Matt's expression shifts, surprise flicking around his face as his gaze meets yours. "Do... do you not know me?" You stare at him, unsure of what he means, your silence prompting him to quickly clarify. "I'm not being narcissistic, I swear. I'm a youtuber—content creator, whatever you wanna call it. I just... I get nervous about being recognised, s'all."

"Oh." you hum softly in understanding. Maya's earlier theory about him being someone famous suddenly clicks into place, and you can't help but mentally applaud her for her observational skills. Slowly, you nod before continuing, "That makes sense. But it's fine—you're fine. I'm just happy I finally know your name... we've been calling you Espresso since your first few days of coming in."

Matt's expression softens, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "You talk about me?"

The question catches you off guard, and you swallow thickly, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn't say that."

His smile grows and hums in response, staring at you over the rim of his cup as he takes another sip of his drink, the action slow and deliberate. The weight of his gaze makes your heart stutter, and you quickly avert your eyes, shifting your focus elsewhere in an attempt to push away the flustered feeling rising in your chest.

Don't act like this, you scold yourself silently. You need to stop being weird. He's just a regular guy.

But deep down, you know that's not entirely true. There's something about Matt—his easy smile, the way he seems both shy and confident at the same time—that makes you feel things you can't quite name.

Your fingers fidget against the edge of the table, and a quiet thought sneaks its way into your mind, one you try desperately to ignore.

You don't have a crush on Matt already.

Of course you don't.

There's no way.

Right?

You decide to steer the conversation in a different direction, leaning back in your chair in an attempt to appear as casual as possible. "So, what's wrong? Why do you seem so tired today?"

"Just constantly busy, and I, uh... got into an argument with my brothers. It was over something so stupid, but I think it got to me 'cos I'm so tired," Matt explains to you, and you instantly feel a pang of sympathy for him. "But it's fine. I know everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

"You should've stayed home and gotten some rest instead of coming here," you chastise lightly, your tone soft enough to show you're not actually upset with his decision.

"I like it here too much," Matt counters, shaking his head as he picks up the fork provided with the cake. He cuts a piece from the corner, bringing it to his mouth, and his next works are barely audible—almost as if he didn't mean for you to hear them. "I like seein' you."

Oh.

The quiet confession catches you by surprise, and you feel the familiar warmth of flusteredness creeping up your neck. Your hand instinctively rises to rub your jaw, a weak attempt to hide the shy smile tugging at your lips.

You can't help but feel baffled by how easily Matt seems to jump between awkwardness and boldness, leaving you unsure how to respond in moments like this. Does he have any idea what his words do to you?

You glance at him briefly, watching as he nonchalantly cuts another piece of cake. He hums softly in approval of the taste, seemingly enjoying it, and you shake your head with an airy laugh, catching his attention.

His gaze shifts toward you, gesturing to the cake. "Have you tried it before?"

"Not yet," you admit, a smile gracing your lips. "It's a homemade recipe. One of my co-workers made it," The image of the little old lady in her flour-covered apron and frosting-smeared cheeks comes to mind. "She loves to bake."

Matt nods thoughtfully, and then cuts another piece of cake. Instead of handing you the fork though, he keeps it in his grip, extending his arm toward you. "Here, try it."

Your eyes widen at the gesture, surprise and hesitance flooding through you. Time feels like it pauses for a moment as you process what's happening, and your gaze meets his across the table, noticing the way his teeth nibble on his bottom lip.

His expression is genuine though, and there's a slight vulnerability in the offer that makes your heart skip a beat.

After a moment, you decide to give in. Leaning forward, your hand gently wraps around his to steady the fork, and you feel him freeze at the contact, but he doesn't pull away. Slowly, you open your mouth to accept the bite, ready to taste the flavour.

But before you can indulge, the moment is abruptly shattered by the loud call of your name.

Startled, you pull back, breaking the connection before the two of you, and Matt lowers the fork quickly, his hand retreating as if the interruption had startled him just as much.

Standing at the counter, your boss watches with his arms folded over his chest, a look of amusement dancing across his features. Maya stands just behind him, her expression apologetic for ruining your moment.

"What're you doing?" your boss asks, one eyebrow raised. His tone is teasing, though it's firm enough to remind you you're on the clock. "Stop flirting with your boyfriend, kid. You're on work hours."

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to come up with a response, but nothing comes out. Embarrassment washes over you like a tidal wave, and you completely forget you're with Matt as you stand up abruptly, rushing over to your boss and all but shove him into the backroom.

"Hey—what—" he starts, but you cut him off with a rapid string of apologies for pushing him, laced with muttered curse words for his earlier assumption about yours and Matt's relationship.

"I wasn't flirting—and he's not my boyfriend! Why would you say that?!" you hiss under your breath, mortification burning hot. You groan, pressing your palms to your face as you spiral into a ramble. "Oh my god. That was embarrassing. I can't believe you said that. What do I do now? I can't—"

Your anxious rambling is cut off by your boss' deep, amused laugh. "He was feedin' you. What else was I supposed to think?"

From the side, Maya nods with an exaggerated agreement. "That was such a boyfriend move..."

Your boss places a hand on your shoulder, his expression softening slightly. "Look, I am sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But maybe next time, don't let it happen during work hours, yeah? I already let you two get away with too much—"

"Well that's a fucking lie," Maya cuts in, her brows knitting together as she glares at him. Your boss snorts but doesn't respond, walking back out to the front with a shake of his head. Once he's gone, Maya steps closer to you with an apologetic look. "I tried to distract him for as long as I could, but he caught on pretty quick. At least it seemed like you and Espresso were getting along well?"

"His name is Matt," you tell her as you lower your hands from your cheeks. Her eyebrows shoot up, but before she can say anything, you groan again, pressing your fingers to your temples and rubbing in slow circles. "I'm so embarrassed. I'm gonna have to quit and, like, move away or something."

"Hey, being dramatic is my job," Maya teases as she pinches your arm lightly. "But you got his name though, that's progress."

You hesitate for a moment before adding, "I.. saw his face too."

Maya's eyes widen, her curiosity peaked. "You did? I couldn't see—he looked away and pulled up his hood right after your name was called..." she pauses, narrowing her eyes at you with a knowing smirk. "So? Was he hot?"

You meet her gaze, dead serious. "You have no idea."

After a few minutes of calming yourself down, you finally gather the courage to return to the front of the café, but when you glance toward Matt's table, your heart sinks.

It's empty.

The sight of the vacant chair and cleared space stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You assume he must've left after your boss' comment, feeling awkward and embarrassed. And really, you can't blame him. If the roles were reserved, you'd probably book it out of here as fast as you could too.

You try to shake it off, forcing yourself to focus on work. You clean up the tables, preparing the café for closing, but you deliberately leave Matt's table for last. You know it's silly—prolonging it won't change anything—but you can't help it.

When you finally approach the table, you swallow thickly, frowning as you take in the empty cup and plate. You pick them up and place them on your tray, but as you move, something catches your eye.

A napkin, crumpled slightly from hiding beneath the plate.

You set the tray down and reach for it, your heart starting to race as you unfold it. Scrawled across the napkin in slightly messy handwriting are the words that instantly bring a smile to your face:

𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (555) 555-555 - 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍/𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈/’𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽’

You ended up calling him when you got home from work that day. At first, you were nervous, your thumb hovering over the call button for longer than you'd like to ever admit.

And before you knew it, those phone calls became an important part of your routine. Almost every night, you'd find yourself laughing until your sides hurt, smiling until your cheeks were sore, and discovering little pieces of Matt you'd never known before.

He told you even more about his family—especially his brothers with their inside jokes—and he shared stories about his Youtube career: his struggles with burnout, and the moments that made it all worth it.

And in turn, you opened up to him too.

You told him everything.

To avoid causing any more trouble with your boss, Matt started visiting you during your breaks instead of sitting at a table on your shift, keeping you company whenever you both had a free moment in your schedules.

It didn't take long for him to become a familiar face around the café either. Your co-workers grew fond of him quite quickly, and the old lady baker immediately adored him when he kindly complimented her on her delicious recipes—and she even allowed him to taste-test her newest ones before anyone else.

You started to notice how comfortable Matt was becoming with you over time, especially when it came to physical touch.

At first, it was subtle—the way his shoulder would brush against yours when he sat close, or how his leg would press lightly to yours under the table.

Then, those small touches grew bolder.

His fingers would linger on your arm as he talked, tracing patterns on your skin, and occasionally his hand would graze yours, but neither of you would pull away.

It took you a while to get used to it, but something about Matt made it so easy to accept. His touches felt natural, like they belonged there, and a part of you started to crave them in ways you didn't fully understand.

Then, one afternoon, everything changed.

Matt had offered to drive you home after your shift, something he'd started doing more often as your 'friendship' deepened. This time though, it felt different. So different. There was tension, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken.

When he pulled up in front of your house and walked you to your doorstep, he made the first move. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks as his lips pressed against yours, soft and warm.

It happened sooner than you expected, but it felt so right—so natural.

From that moment on, kisses became a regular part of your time together. Whether it was when he drove you home from work or when you sneaked away for 'fresh air' during your breaks, his lips always seemed to find yours.

Sometimes it was quick—a stolen kiss.

Other times, it was slower—lingering, like he wanted to savour the moment just as much as you did.

And you found yourself falling for him, bit by bit, with every laugh, every touch, and every kiss.

"So, he's not your boyfriend?" Maya's voice cuts through the whirring of the coffee machine, her tone filled with disbelief as she looks over at you.

"No, he's not," you shake your head as you carefully pour the espresso into a cup.

"But you kiss all the time, and he comes to visit you here almost every single day," Maya points out, her brows knitting together as she watches you add steamed milk and froth to finish the cappuccino.

It's a valid point, one that you've thought over many—many—times.

"Yeah," you hum, steadying the cup. "But he hasn't asked me out officially, y'know?"

Maya blinks, clearly perplexed. "Why can't you ask him then?"

You pause, staring at her like she's just suggested something completely outrageous. "Me?"

"Yeah, you."

The idea of taking the initiative and asking Matt to be your boyfriend sends a wave of panic rolling through you, and you shake your head quickly. "No. No way. I can't do that. I don't even know how to do that."

Maya blinks slower, processing your response. "You just... ask."

You scoff, incredulous. "Absolutely not. I've never done anything like that before, and I'm way too awkward to start now. What if it makes me look desperate? Or what if the timing is all wrong?" you spin around to face her, completely mortified as you mutter, "What if he rejects me?"

"Okay, now you're just overthinking everything," Maya sighs, grabbing a cup and lazily filling it with ice cubes. "Look, you just need to—"

"Excuse me!"

The sharp screech of an impatient customer cuts through the air, making both of you flinch. You quickly turn around, guilt already bubbling in your chest.

"I understand you have boy problems," the woman snaps, glaring at you, "but I'm in a rush. Can you hurry it up?"

Your eyes widen as the realisation starts to hit—you've turned into one of those people. The ones who talk too loudly about their personal problems, oblivious to the world around them.

Oh fuck.

You apologise profusely as you rush to finish the customers order, handing it over with a sheepish grin. She huffs, pays, and storms off, leaving you to groan and press the heel of your palm into your eyes.

"Don't worry about it too much." Maya says, trying to reassure you, and you appreciate the attempt to calm your spiralling thoughts of the day.

You sigh, nodding slowly, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as you grab a rag to clean the counter, trying to refocus.

Maya, however, isn't done. "Matt's supposed to be visiting you on break, right? Just talk to him then. See where his head's at with all this... it's clear that he likes you as much as you like him."

You nod again, this time a little more solemnly. Deep down, you know she's right, but the thought of having that conversation still makes you stomach churn with nerves.

Forcing a polite smile onto your face, you get back to serving your customers. You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling brewing, but it lingers, making your shift stretch on longer than usual.

It doesn't help that it seems to be one of those days either—the kind where couples seem to flood the café, all smiley and giggly, holding hands and sharing kisses.

Internally, you scowl. You know it's not fair to be so bitter about their happiness, but it's hard to stop yourself from feeling like the universe is rubbing it so carelessly in your face.

You grit your teeth as another couple approaches the counter, all lovey dovey as they order matching drinks. Seriously? .... For real? You can't help but think they're all doing this on purpose.

You know they aren't though. It's not their fault you're so frustrated and insecure. It's not their fault you're stuck in this weird position with Matt, unsure of where you stand.

They're in love—and they have every right to show it off to the world.

As the day drags on and on, you try your best to push aside the negatives thoughts swirling in your mind by focussing on your job, moving from task to task, hoping to make time fly by.

The wait isn't easy—you hate it—but you keep reassuring yourself that everything will be alright.

But, as your break finally arrives, that too familiar feeling of unease settles in your chest once again.

You find yourself sitting alone in the backroom, ten minutes into your fifteen-minute break. Your phone is sandwiched between your cheek and shoulder as you listen to Matt's voice on the other end of the call.

Your thumb instinctively finds its way to your mouth, and you bite down on your nail—a habit you've been trying to get a hold on.

“There’s been a change of plans," Matt says, his words filled with regret. "I don’t think I can come visit you right now—everythin’ is, like, super crazy and…” his voice trails off as he continues explaining, but the words blend together in the background of your mind.

He's not coming.

That feeling in your chest intensifies, and the uncomfortable churning in your stomach grows worse.

“I’m really sorry.” he says, soft and sincere.

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” you whisper, your tone a little on the vulnerable side. You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone, and you quickly add. “Seriously, it’s fine. I promise. It just… sucks, I guess.”

“I know, baby,” Matt mutters quietly, his own sadness seeping through.

The unexpected affectionate name catches you off guard, but it brings you slight comfort. Warmth spreads across your face, and despite everything, you smile to yourself shyly.

There’s some rustling on his end, and you hear him adjust the phone before his voice comes through more clearly. “I can see you later, though. I can… come over to your place, if you want.”

"My place?" you repeat, your eyes widening slightly as you sit up straighter. "You want to come over to my place?"

"Well, yeah, I mean—" he clears his throat, trying to sound more casual than he feels. "I have to film a video with my brothers and we won't be done until late, and I still really want to see you. We can have a date at yours or somethin'? I'll bring food or whatever on my way there. I'd offer you to come to mine, but—"

"My place is good," you cut him off, nodding to yourself as if to confirm it. "That's great, actually."

"Yeah?" you hear the smile in his voice, and it brings one to your own face as you hum softly in agreement. "Alright... I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay." you reply giddily.

You'd be completely lying to yourself if you said you didn't want the clock obsessively for the rest of your shift—counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could finally head home.

Spoiler: it didn't magically speed up. The numbers on the clock barely moved every time you checked.

But thankfully, after spilling the details of your plans to Maya, she offered to handle the closing-up duties so you could leave early.

At first, you protested. You didn't want to leave her to do everything alone, but her reassurance—and her reminded that she owed you for covering one of her shifts last week—finally convinced you to accept.

You couldn't say no after that.

As soon as you step out of the café, your mind starts racing with thoughts about Matt's visit. You pick up the pace, practically speed walking to the nearest store to grab some last minute treats—a box of desserts and a pack of beers—and the grocery bag bumps against your leg with each hurried step.

When you finally make it home, you waste no time in kicking off your shoes and heading straight to the kitchen to stash the desserts and beers into the fridge before taking a moment to take in your apartment.

It's not messy, but it's... definitely lived in.

The couch cushions are out of place, a throw blanket is draped over an armchair. There's a few books stacked on the side table, and your empty coffee mug still sits on the corner of the counter where you left it this morning.

You sigh, rolling up your sleeves as you get to work tidying up. You fluff the cushions, fold the blanket neatly, and wash your coffee mug and place it back in the cupboard.

Once everything looks presentable, you dart off to the bathroom to shower, eager to scrub away the sweat and lingering smell of coffee from your shift. You stand beneath the spray and lather up with vanilla scented soap before giving your hair a thorough wash—you even exfoliate—mentally checking off every step as you go.

But when you're back in your room, standing in front of your closet with a towel wrapped around your body, you freeze.

What the fuck are you supposed to wear?

Your eyes scan the rows of clothes, but nothing seems right. Is this a proper date, or just a casual hangout? You've never been in this situation before, and it's impossible to guess the right vibe to match. You don't want to be overdressed and make it awkward, but you also don't want to look like you didn't try.

"I need your help," you blurt into the phone urgently and desperately, deciding to call the best person you know that can handle this type of situation. "Bad. I need your help bad."

There's a pause before Maya's laughter comes through the line, "What are you freaking out about now?"

"I—" you hesitate, gripping the phone tighter as your eyes dart back to your closet, pushing through the hangers for the tenth time. "I have no idea what to wear. I don't know if this is a date. I've never been on a date, so I don't know what people even wear to one."

You let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back onto your heels.

"I don't want it to look like I tried too hard, but I also don't want it to look like I just rolled out of bed and don't give a fuck—"

"Hey," Maya interrupts sharply, calling out your name. "Chill out."

You immediately fall silent, clutching the phone to your ear as you wait for her words of wisdom.

"Let me break it down for you," she begins, "Matt's coming over to your place after hanging out with his brothers, right?"

"Yeah..." you reply cautiously, narrowing your eyes at a skirt in your closet that suddenly feels too much.

"So," she continues. "Do you really think he's going to show up wearing, like, a suit and tie? A button-up and chinos? No. At best, he's showing up in sweatpants and a sweater. Maybe jeans."

You purse your lips, thinking that over. "So... what do I wear then?"

"God. You're hopeless." Maya teases with a loud, dramatic sigh. "Wear something comfortable. Something cute and casual. You have clothes like that, okay? I've seen them."

You nod as if she can see you. "Cute and casual," you repeat. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. That's fine. Thank yo—"

"Wait," Maya cuts in before you can hang up. "One more thing: wear matching lingerie. That red lacy set we bought last weekend? That one."

You freeze, eyebrows furrowing as her words settle in. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you glare at it for a second before returning it to your face. "Why the hell would I need to wear that?"

"Just in case," Maya responds matter-of-factly. "You know... just in case."

"Oh," you say dumbly, blinking as the realisation hits you. "I mean... doesn't have to happen right away, does it? Like—it's not expected or anything, right?"

"Of course not" Maya answers instantly to reassure you. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. But if the mood is right, at least you'll be prepared. Trust me."

After hanging up, you toss your phone onto the bed and take a moment to collect yourself. Maya's advice repeats in your head as you pull open your dresser drawer, digging out the red lingerie set. It's still neatly folded in the box it came in—the tags still attached.

You hesitate for a moment, then shrug to yourself. At least you'll be prepared. Once you've slipped into the lingerie, you pull on your favourite shirt and jeans—soft, well worn, and flattering in all the right ways. You take a step back to check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the fabric over your hips.

A touch of mascara, a swipe of lip gloss, a hint of blush and highlighter, and a quick spritz of perfume completes the look.

You're double checking your outfit and makeup when a knock beats on the front door, and your stomach flips. You abruptly move, nearly knocking over the vanity chair in your rush as you smooth out your shirt for the hundredth time, sock covered feet padding across the floorboards as you make your way to the front door.

With a deep breath, you unlock the door and swing it open, and instantly, any lingering anxiety melts away. There Matt stands, his signature black cap pulled low over messy hair, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim jeans.

He smiles at you—a soft, lopsided grin—before shuffling inside after you step aside, his sneakers scuffing lightly against the floor as he toes them off.

You open your mouth to speak, to welcome him into your home, but the words catch in the back of your throat as Matt doesn't even give you a chance. He drops the takeout bag to the floor with a soft thud, and his ringed fingers wrap gently around your wrist, tugging you closer.

A giddy smile spreads across your face as his cold palms cup the warmth of your cheeks, his gaze softening as his lips brush against yours—gentle and so sweet.

He exhales a deep sigh of contentment when you kiss him back, and your hands reach to grip the soft fabric of his sweater to pull him close. But Matt doesn't linger long on your lips, instead, he pulls back just enough to trail quick, playful kisses across your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

Each kiss lands with an over exaggerated smooch, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles up from your chest.

"Matt," you try to speak between giggles. "Stop, you're—"

"No," he murmurs, pressing another smacking kiss to your lips. "Missed you too much... sorry I couldn't come earlier."

You smile softly, your heart swelling as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your hands still resting on his chest. Gently, you shake your head. "You're here now, right?"

Matt's grin widens, and he bends down to pick up the takeout bag from the floor, straightening up before stepping further into your home.

His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the details—the mismatched furniture, the framed photos on the walls, the soft glow of string lights draped across the windows, and the potted plants perched on the sills.

You shift your weight nervously, watching him take it all in with a flicker of self-consciousness, especially when his eyes linger on the shelf filled with books and little trinkets that probably look a bit chaotic to anyone but you.

"This is a nice place," he says finally, his voice warm and sincere as his eyes meet yours again. "Cosy."

"Thank you," you reply with a soft laugh, swaying lightly on the balls of your feet. "I would've invited you in sooner, but... it never seemed like the right time."

"That's okay," Matt says with a casual shrug. Then, he raises the takeout bag between you, giving it a little shake. "Hungry?"

As if on cue, your stomach growls loudly, causing you to sheepishly smile. "Starving."

It doesn't take long before the two of you settle comfortably on the couch, the food spread out on the coffee table in front of you. A movie plays on the TV—something you both agreed on watching—but as the minutes pass, it becomes background noise.

Matt's attention drifts to you, and soon he's asking about your day—showing genuine interest, listening to you talk as you recount the small details of your daily routine. He even teases you, his grin widening as he asks if you've spilled any more drinks during your shift.

You did that once—maybe twice.

He never lets you forget it. When the conversation shifts and it's your turn to ask him about his day, Matt's expression brightens. The way his eyes light up as he talks about filming with his brothers and brainstorming new ideas makes your chest ache in the best day, and you listen attentively as he rambles, soaking in the passion behind his words.

But then, his tone dips slightly, and he mentions feeling mentally drained—exhausted, even. The confession is so subtle, but it sticks with you as you remind him to take breaks and to focus more on his mental health, but he waves a hand dismissively, brushing off your worry.

You're about to push further, but before you can, Matt reaches for his phone, his energy shifting again as he tells you he wants to show you what he and his brothers have been doing and planning.

He scoots close, the warmth of his shoulder pressing against yours as he pulls up the photos and videos on his camera roll, explaining every detail behind each one. But your ears perk up when another voice cuts through in one of the videos Matt plays, a familiar one that belongs to one of his brothers.

"What are you doin'?" Chris' voice asks, and a second later, he comically slides into frame, his bright blue eyes staring directly into the camera lens, one brow raised in suspicion.

"Filmin' the sunset," Matt mumbles, the camera shaking slightly as Chris steps closer. "Dude, what're you—"

"Is this for your girlfriend?" Chris interrupts, practically shoving his face into view as he wiggles his eyebrows dramatically.

"Yeah," Matt huffs, trying to push Chris out of the shot. "Move."

"Take a video of me. I'm the view now."

"What? No," Matt snaps, scoffing. The camera lowers slightly, but not before you catch Nick in the background, fake gaggling loudly as a muttered, "You're fuckin' insane. Get away—" from Matt is the last thing you hear before the video cuts off.

As the video ends, you find yourself frozen, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Slowly, your eyes drift from the phone to Matt's face. He's smiling at you—so softly, so fucking prettily—clearly waiting for your thoughts on the videos he just shared.

But your mind is stuck on one thing.

"Girlfriend?" The word slips out before you can stop it, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Do... do you call me your girlfriend in front of your brothers?"

"Yeah," he says without hesitation, his eyebrows pulling together in slight confusion. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You never asked," you whisper. You glance down, suddenly feeling embarrassed under his gaze. "I mean... it was never really talked about. We didn't put a label on anything."

Matt lets out a light laugh, scratching the back of his neck as if he's realising it for the first time.

"I kinda assumed we were together," he tells you. "I mean, I don't really see someone almost every day, kiss them, drive them home, and just call them a 'friend'," his cheeks grow a little flushed. "Like, I'd only do that with someone who's my girl."

You can't fight the smile that breaks across your face, and Matt notices it too, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that makes your heart flutter.

"Guess I should've asked though, hm?" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a softer tone as his thumb gently brushes over your bottom lip. His eyes lock with yours, tilting his head to the side. "Made it official?" he then leans in, his breath warm against your face. "Will you be my girlfriend? Or... is it too late?"

"Never too late."

Matt grins, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels softer and sweeter than any before. His touch is so gentle, and you can't help but exhale deeply as you melt into him.

Kissing Matt is one thing, but kissing Matt who is your boyfriend? That was something else entirely. It feels new—exciting.

But then, as his hand dips beneath your shirt, his palm pressing lightly against the bare skin of your waist, something feels… different. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar, and you find yourself pulling back slightly, your breathing ragged as you meet his gaze with an embarrassed, sheepish grin.

"You alright?" Matt asks immediately, concern etched into his expression. His thumb brushes over your hip, his touch grounding and gentle.

"No—yeah, yes. Everything is fine—great," you ramble with a nervous laugh, trying to collect yourself under Matt's worried gaze. His brow furrows as you scramble to explain yourself, but you decide to surrender and tell him the truth as your shoulders slump. "This is all new to me. I've never had this."

Matt blinks, then tilts his head, raising a brow. "Had a boyfriend?"

"No—well yeah, but," you shake your head with a small laugh and a shy smile. "I'm talking about sex... I've never done that before. I've never, like... been interested, you know?"

"Oh," he mumbles softly, pulling his hand carefully out from beneath your shirt. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No!" you rush to cut him off, your hands curling around his wrists to stop him. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, if that's what you're wondering," you exhale shakily, trying your best to put your feelings into words. "I've never been interested in it before, but with you... I am."

Matt’s eyes widen slightly, his expression shifting to something almost unreadable—surprised, maybe even a little emotional. His hands find their way back to your hips, his grip gentle but grounding as his thumbs brush against your sides.

"Really?" he asks softly.

You nod, your heart beating faster. You want him to understand that this is all new territory for you, but it's something that you want to share with him—to give a part of yourself to someone who truly likes you just as much as you like him.

Matt studies you for a moment, his gaze darting across your face as if he's memorising all your little details. His eyes linger on your lips, noticing how they part slightly, how your tongue nervously darts out to wet your bottom lip.

"Relax," he murmurs, his voice trying to soothe you as he inches closer. "You're tremblin'."

"I'm nervous," you admit in a whisper.

"It's alright," he reassures you as his fingers gently tilt your chin up, his touch featherlight as he strokes your bottom lip. "I got you. We'll go slow."

"Slow," you echo, nodding. "Slow is good."

A soft smile tugs at Matt's lips as he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead first, then your nose, before finally dipping down to press his lips to yours once again. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into his touch, feeling the way his mouth moves against yours.

When you part your lips, a soft gasp escapes you as Matt deepens the kiss, his tongue flattening against yours as it enters your mouth, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You press your hand to his chest again, right over his hammering heartbeat as your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater.

Matt breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he mumbles, "Where's your room?"

Your throat suddenly feels dry, and it takes a moment to gather yourself as you swallow hard, your voice coming out a little hoarse. "Down the hall, first door on the left."

Matt nods, kissing your lips one last time before he rises from the couch, pulling you up with him. His fingers intertwine with yours, his grip firm as the two of you move quietly down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps soft on the wooden flooring.

When you step into the room, Matt's eyes sweep over the space briefly before settling back on you. He doesn't rush you or push you, instead, he just takes a step closer, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone as his eyes search yours, silently asking for permission.

You give him a short nod, and in an instant, his lips mould with yours in a deep, but slow kiss. You kiss him back timidly, looping your arms around his shoulders for your fingers to curl at the hairs on the nape of his neck, while he wraps his around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. 

He blindly walks you backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the bed and you drop down, causing Matt to follow closely behind. He straddles you, knees on each side of your hips, keeping his lips locked on yours as his hands trail down your body, his fingers lightly gripping the hem of your shirt. 

The kiss breaks for him to gently pull your shirt over your head, and his eyes—blown out and wide—stare down at your chest, all prettied up in the red, lacy bra you put on earlier. He lets out a long, drawn out shaky exhale, rubbing his thumb across the material as his eyes flit up to yours. 

“Beautiful,” he compliments, and you immediately grow shy and flustered, unable to properly meet his gaze as he chuckles softly, sliding his hands beneath your back to reach for the clasp. 

Your brows raise in surprise at how quick and easy it is for him to unclasp your bra, and the lacy falls from your skin, baring your naked chest to his gaze. He gives you a gentle smile, giving your lips a loving kiss before moving downwards, sucking a trail of hickeys from your neck, to your collarbones, down to your breasts. 

Matt cups the plumpy skin in his palms, squeezing softly while his lips wrap around your nipple. You gasp softly at the sensation, feeling the nub harden in his mouth as he licks and suckles. He gives attention to your other nipple too, and your back arches at the touch, breath stuttering as you tilt your head back against the pillows.

However, your breathing grows ragged with nerves as he starts moving south again, almost choking when he gets to your legs. The nerves start to creep back into your system as you watch him unbutton your jeans while he keeps his eyes on yours, giving you a reassuring smile as he pulls the material down your jeans, pressing open mouth kisses to the skin that he reveals. 

Your first instinct is to pull away when you become aware of how extremely close he is to your damp panties—not used to someone being so up close and personal to such an intimate place—but he soothingly strokes your thighs in hopes to relax you, massaging his fingers into the plush skin. 

"Matt," you murmur anxiously as you feel his nose against your panties as he inhales deeply, letting out a soft sound at the intoxicating scent of your obvious arousal. 

Your face heats up in embarrassment at the sight of him between your thighs, and you fidget, hips shifting against the bed sheets as he hooks his fingers beneath the lace, pulling them down your legs to join your other clothes on the floor—leaving you naked and vulnerable. 

"You still want to do this?" Matt asks you, pressing open mouth kisses to your thighs as he eyes the glistening folds of your pussy before his gaze drifts up your body, drinking you in. He meets your eyes, laying another kiss on your skin. "We can stop. It’s your choice." 

You’re quiet for a moment, unable to think properly over the loud sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You’re nervous, of course. You’ve never experienced something like this before—something so intimate and raw. Nobody has been this close to you, and nobody has ever touched you the way he’s been currently doing. 

But you want this. 

You do want this. 

You want this with him. 

"Please keep going." you confirm, and in that moment, you feel his warm breath caress your skin as he leans closer, his mouth pressing over your clit. 

Your body tenses up at the foreign sensation, and your thighs almost close in around his head in an attempt to push him away, but the feeling of his tongue slowly wedging between your wet folds, gently lapping over your slit, makes you crumble. 

You’re unable to put how you feel into words as your body slumps on the bed, lips parting with short, airy gasps as you stare up at the ceiling, your fingers twisting in your bedsheets. Matt’s mouth remains latched onto you, alternating between tender kitten licks and suckles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

It’s difficult for you to think straight—so fucking difficult that all you can do is just lay there and take it. 

Matt curls his arms around your thighs, moaning softly into your cunt and you gasp at the vibrations. You don’t know what your body is doing, but it moves as if it’s on autopilot, rolling against his face as that knot in your stomach tightens, and tightens, and tightens.

"That’s it," he murmurs between your folds. "Keep movin’. You’re gettin’ close." 

"H-how can you tell?" you ask him breathlessly. 

Matt smiles, peering up at you through hooded lids, "I can feel it, baby. You're leakin' so much around my tongue." 

You whine pathetically at that, and your eyes roll back and your neck strains as Matt’s tongue dips inside of you—the pressure and pleasure becoming too much for your inexperienced body to handle that you can’t help but release whatever tension coils up in your stomach.

Matt hums in approval, squeezing your thighs in a reassuring manner as he laps up your essence, delicately helping you ride out your orgasm with tentative licks. Once Matt finally lets up, you feel yourself grow limp, trying your hardest to catch your breath as you watch him move up your body through hazy vision. 

"Good job," he praises you lightly, stroking your cheek with a tender touch. “You did so well." 

All you can muster is a tired, sheepish smile, melting against his touch for a moment until it’s moved away too quickly for your liking. You can feel a whine of protest bubbling up in your throat, but you manage to keep it at bay as you watch Matt lean back on his knees, bunching his sweater in his hands before he pulls it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side. 

You take this moment to admire him with the best of your ability: his messy hair hangs just above his eyes, his lips puffy and wet—glistening with your arousal. His body is slim, and you have the sudden urge to run your hands up his tummy and over his chest to curl your fingers around the silver necklace that dangles from his neck, but you’re caught off guard by the sound of metal clanging, and you glance down to see his hands working open his belt.

Matt rids himself of his jeans quite quickly, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of his cock straining against the white material of his Calvin Klein's has your stomach whirling, and you begin to worry if something of that size will even fit inside of you.

You do avert your eyes when his fingers grip the waistband of his boxers to pull them off, although you can’t look away for too long. You’re curious, and curiosity definitely kills the cat because when you see his cock—big, heavy, laying against his tummy up to his belly button—you know you’re in trouble. 

That’s not going to fit. 

Silence consumes you, your mouth dry and nerves shot. All you can do is watch him lean off the bed to reach for his jeans on the ground, digging his hand into the pockets to retrieve a small silver packet. He tears it open with his teeth with ease, throwing the empty packet onto your nightstand before pinching the tip of the condom to roll it onto his cock, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

"Did—" you try to find your voice, coughing to clear your throat when it comes out a little rough. "Did you expect this to happen? You were prepared?"

"I didn’t expect it," Matt tells you, his tone filled with honesty and sincerity as he adjusts the rubber, making sure that it was fitted securely. "But it’s always good to be prepared, right?"

Maya’s words from the phone call earlier linger in your mind; ‘it’s good to be prepared, just in case’. You didn’t realise how much that actually applied, and all you can do is dumbly nod your head in response as Matt shuffles forward on his knees, prying your thighs further apart. 

You twitch when you feel his fingers gently graze over your sensitive pussy, using his thumbs to pull at your folds, revealing your leaky hole to his gaze. You definitely look away now—trying to not think about how exposed you are to him, literally. 

"M’gonna have to stretch you out a little," Matt tells you, and you want to question what he means by that until you wince at the stretch of his finger pushing through the tightness of your entrance, causing tears to bubble in your eyes. "Sorry, baby. It’s okay, s’okay—breathe."

You tense up when Matt adds another one of his fingers, trying your best to focus on his soothing voice when he tells you to relax, and he stills, his fingers still buried deep inside of you as his other hand massages your thigh in gentle motions.

You wriggle, finding it difficult to adjust to the stretch of his fingers as he carefully pumps in and out of your pussy, scissoring them against your gummy walls that makes your thighs twitch and close around his wrist. He continues to quietly praise you throughout, even pressing his thumb to your clit to rub, the pleasurable sensation of your clit getting attention causing you to relax just a bit. 

“There we go,” he coos, nodding his head as he watches you. “Relax.” 

The wet sounds filling the room is dirty, and you’re embarrassed to know that it’s coming from you. You are wet, and you’re definitely turned on despite being such a nervous wreck, but you didn’t realise you’re this wet. 

Matt seems to be fine with it, which makes you feel a little bit better. 

It’s normal.

It’s natural.

It’s fine.

You’re unsure on how long Matt has been fingering you for, but you assume it was enough to have you stretched out as he pulls his fingers away from your pussy, surprisingly licking them clean as he hovers above you. 

You reach to grab his shoulders while he touches himself, rubbing his cock up and down your sticky folds to lather up your arousal. Matt stares at you, tilting his head to the side as he drinks in your expression. 

“You ready?” He presses his tip to your entrance as he aligns himself. Anxiety and nerves courses through your veins, knowing what was about to come, but you’re more than ready—ready to have him in any way you possibly can. 

“I’m ready.”

With that, he presses himself into you, slow and steady. The gentleness doesn’t stop you from crying out, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, creating indents in his skin as your cunt and thighs burn from your pressure. 

The pain and discomfort is intense, and it hurts much more than you anticipated—the unfamiliar sensation being stretched out and filled making you wince. Matt pauses his hips to give you time to adjust to his size, wrapping his arms around you and kissing away the tears that pool down your cheeks. 

“You’re doin’ great, sweetheart,” he attempts to soothe you, his body locked as he glances down to where you’re both barely connected. Only the tip of his cock is nestled inside your opening, and he nibbles down on his bottom lip, knowing this was going to be trickier. “You’re okay, I promise.”

The burn intensifies as Matt begins to inch deeper in, each movement jolts of hot pain through your tender flesh. You have never felt like this in your life, but you’re happy to feel the searing pain gradually give way to a dull ache, which soon turns into a strange, tingling sensation as his hips rock carefully into you. 

His steady rhythm and soothing caresses help calm your nerves, and you can feel every ridge and vein of Matt’s cock rub against your tender walls. His hands roam your body, kneading the fat of your hips, stroking up your stomach and breasts, brushing his fingers across your cheeks to wipe away the tears. 

Each touch relaxes you further and further, drawing you into the experience, and you’re finally able to wrap your legs around Matt’s waist loosely, feeling him roll his hips deeper against yours. The friction between you both causes you to feel a little stuffy, skin clammy with sweat, but you still refuse to loosen your grip on him—keeping him as close to you as possible. 

“Look at you… you’re doin’ so well for me,” Matt continues to praise you with each thrust, his breathing laboured. 

You let out a quiet moan, it echoing throughout the room, and the sound of giving in makes Matt press his lips to yours, swallowing the rest of your moans as his cock and tongue work together in motion.

You feel so dizzy, head cloudy and empty as he rocks against you, his pelvis rubbing against your poor clit, the friction making your pussy quiver around him, earning a throaty groan from him, the sound rumbling against your lips. 

Breaking the kiss, Matt trails his move along the column of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh as he continues to thrust, and you arch into him a little, your nails lightly raking down his back as you tilt your head to give him better access. 

His tongue darts out to lap at the pulse point in your throat before he kisses and nibbles his way back up to your ear, his voice low and strained as he murmurs, “M’gettin’ close,” his hips stuttering in their rhythm as he fights to maintain his control. “Not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Your body tenses, a whiney noise escaping as the sensations swell up inside you, the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach forming until you can no longer contain yourself. Your inner muscles clench around Matt’s cock, rhythmically squeezing around him as your second orgasm crashes over you abruptly. 

At the same moment, Matt's control shatters, and with a grunt, he buries himself to the hilt inside your cunt and trembles, spilling into the condom with long, hot spurts. His hips stutter, making you wince and mewl at the feeling, but once both of your tremors subside, Matt lays on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. 

It’s hot, and you’re still all sticky and clammy—definitely more than before—but you don’t care, not when Matt nuzzles his face into the crevice of your neck, his lips brushing against your damp skin as he catches his breath. 

After a while, he carefully extracts himself from you, pulling out of your wet cunt, and you hiss at the feeling, thighs pressing together to close as Matt stands from the bed. He pulls the condom off, careful not to spill any of his cum across your carpet as he walks into your bathroom to discard it in the trash. 

He comes back seconds later, climbing into the bed beside you, pulling you close to cradle you against his body. You immediately nestle into his embrace, your cheek laying on his chest and peering up at him as his hand lazily drifts across your back, alternating between rubbing and drawing random patterns. 

“Was that okay?” Matt asks you, his voice soft and quiet. 

You smile shyly and nod your head in response, draping your arms around his waist to pull him even closer as his head drops down to place a kiss atop of yours, squeezing you tenderly.

It was perfect.

© STURNIOZ

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

buck wild - evan buckley x reader

Buck has always been beautiful. Over the past year though, he had an even bigger glow up, which you didn’t even think could be possible.

His golden hair had furled into soft little coils, his stomach was fuller, his arms were so muscular that you were slightly concerned he was going to rip through his all of his T-shirts, and his thighs. Lord, his thick thighs were built like tanks. All in all, Buck looked comfortable in his own skin, in being himself, and in being enough, and you were obsessed with it.

Of course, you might be biased, but you think the general public can agree with you that your boyfriend is a smoke show.

The 118 and their families were currently gathered at Athena and Bobby’s house. It was one of those rare weekend nights where everyone was free, so the couple had invited everyone over for a barbecue.

Dusk was falling, and the kids were planted in front of the downstairs television watching a horror movie. The adults were sitting in the backyard, chatting over drinks. You were sitting sideways in Buck’s lap, one of his hands bringing a beer bottle to his lips every few minutes, while the other rested on your leg. Both of you were immersed in the story that Karen was recounting about an incident that happened in her lab.

When you decide that you needed a sip of water, you shift yourself up from Buck's lap and the comfortable position you were in. You put your feet on the ground, lean forward and oh-

Your legs were on either side of Buck’s thick left thigh, and whether it was due to the booze or the angle or the solid muscle underneath hitting you just right, arousal zips through you.

You gulp and get up on shaky legs with Buck’s help. You make a beeline to the kitchen and grab a water bottle, pressing the cool plastic to the side of your neck in attempt to calm down.

“Hey, you okay?”, you hear Buck behind you. You turn around to see your sweet boyfriend who had trailed after you in concern.

“Yeah... but do you mind if we go home?”

“Of course. Are you feeling sick?”

“No, but I am feeling hot.” You say, trailing a nail down Buck’s chest to his tummy, biting your lower lip.

Buck, quickly understanding, smirks, and takes your hand in his, guiding you back towards the group to bid your hasty goodbyes before walking out the front door. You don't quite catch the knowing looks and smirks that Eddie and Hen give Buck.

Buck's warm hand never leaves yours, except to help you into his Jeep. He buckles himself in, and starts to drive, but not before asking,

“So, what was it that turned you on?”

Your cheeks warm. You look pointedly at his thighs, and he chuckles. He eventually pulls the Jeep into park in front of your shared apartment.

You move to open the passenger door, but Buck pulls you back. He brings you in for a kiss and shuffles you over the centre console to make you straddle him, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

“Buck”, you pant breathlessly into his mouth, before sliding your tongue over his. His big hands caress your back and down your butt, before you feel him guide your legs so that one of his thighs was between them.

“Okay, baby. Ride me. Take what you need.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You hold onto Buck’s shoulders, grinding your hips back and forth over the corded muscle. Buck looks up at you like this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his own dick straining against his jeans. He bounces his leg up into you experimentally, and when you react positively, he continues to do so in an unrelenting pace. Buck can tell by your whines and breathing that you were close, so he finally grasps your hips and pulls you down hard onto his thigh. Within seconds, you’re shaking with white-hot pleasure.

Buck coos and rubs your sides, grounding you after your high. It's unspoken between you two, but this was most definitely not the last time you'd be doing this.

[theofficialfanfictioncorner]

voyeurism w/ evan ‘buck’ buckley x gn!reader

kinktober ‘24 ~ no 1

a/n: oh hi, randomly decided at like 8pm last night to maybe try join in with kinktober this year so hopefully there will be more stuff but I make no promises that it’ll be everyday. also I’m just kind of making it up as I go so I hope you enjoy

“Stay right there,” Buck lowers to give you a chaste kiss, “and keep your hands where I can see them.” Buck has sat you down in a chair he’d placed directly facing his bed. He was using the arms of the chair to lean down so he was at your eye level. With another kiss, he goes to move away but your fingers catch his hand and drag him down for a final kiss. A toothy grin crosses both of your faces at the excitement of this new venture.

It had started with a simple day off, a rare one that you’re free to spend together. This morning you’d both stayed in bed far longer than needed, starting the day with quiet whispers and slow kisses. Eventually, you found your way out of bed and went to the farmers market together, Buck’s hands never left your body from the second you had arrived. If you weren’t holding hands he’d have his rested on your back or an arm slung over your shoulders. Then you’d spent the afternoon at Eddie’s, he’d decided to fire up the grill and invite some people around. The 118 truly can’t stand to be apart for even a day. That’s when it started to heat up a little between Buck and yourself. He had of course had a couple of beers while he stood by Eddie at the grill, so he was relatively tipsy which always meant Buck was a little more handsy. His hand would start at the top of your back, right between your shoulder blades and would slowly slip lower and lower until it was basically resting on your ass and at one point he had pulled you down to rest right on his lap while he was mid-conversation. The naughty whispers began shortly after, Buck was always one to rile you up. He had you squirming to the point when someone called on you out of the blue, you jumped up like a teenager being caught by their parents. So, by the time you had driven back to Buck’s place you were both practically buzzing with excitement. Buck had taken charge immediately upon entering his apartment, instructing you with a mischievous glint in his eye to go upstairs and wait. He grabbed a chair and with ease carried it up the stairs and that’s how you find yourself in your current position. Buck telling you to sit in this chair and watch. No touching. Just keep your eyes on him. Simple right?

Buck swiftly pulls his t-shirt off over his head and drops it on the ground before crawling into his bed, right in the centre opposite you. He smiles at you, appreciative that you’re still obediently sat like he left you. Your eyes can’t settle on just his face though as his hands move to work on taking off his belt. You struggle to sit still now, just ever so slightly moving your legs to gain some sort of friction. Buck continues to work on undoing the button on his jeans and you watch, eyes flickering between his hands and his face. Buck lets out a long sigh the second his hand can slip under the material of his jeans, his head audibly hitting the top of his headboard but it doesn't seem to bother him. His hands make quick work of pulling his jeans and boxer down just enough to free himself and he wastes no time in working his hand up and down his cock. He’s looking at you with hooded eyes, letting out small puffs of air that quicken with each stroke of his hand.

“You liking the show baby?” His voice comes out gruff and full of lust and he pauses his movement to instead rub his thumb over his slit, causing his hips to jolt a few times. You’re enthusiastically nodding as your mouth waters at the sight. You want nothing more than to get your hands on him and vice versa. “I think about you every time I do this y’know?” His words have you biting down on your bottom lip, mind just completely consumed by the sight in front of you. “Oh fuck baby, I love you so much.” His hand resumes its stroking of his cock, faster this time and his eyes close briefly at the euphoric feeling. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Buck. I love you so much.” You don’t miss a beat, the words come out before you can even process it. Your own hands are starting to move, rubbing up and down your thighs in an attempt to still be somewhat within Buck’s instructions. Curses tumble out of his mouth and his eyes land right on you again. Unexpectedly, Buck cums, white painting his stomach as he pants hard, his hand slowing its movements. It’s not a surprise that Buck appreciates being told he is loved but he’s never came quite that quickly after you say it. You’re studying the mess he’s made when Buck grunts out your name and your eyes shoot up to his, that mischievous glint still in his eye.

“Come clean up this mess.”