⍟AlcaPzr⍟

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 𝑫𝒚𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆'𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 🐀🖋️

[alcapzr]

ALCA'S MASTERLIST'S MASTERLIST

Dylan Minnette ♧︎︎︎

Braeden Lemasters ♫︎

Cole Preston 𖠌

Stranger Things ☏︎

Clay Jensen ㋛︎

Isabella Elei 𑁍

Matty/Gabriette ❣︎

Various✫

Mcr ☠︎︎

Off Campus ♡︎

Billie Eilish ❦︎

Renne Rapp ✿︎

[alcapzr]

My biology teacher just gave me the most gorgeous life changing metaphor ever

[alcapzr]

I hope at least one of you has me on your dream blunt rotation

[alcapzr]

heyyy! i hope you’re not overloaded with requests rn.

just had an idea maybe like a fluff with one wallows boy (or maybe all of them) where reader plays minecraft with one of them? something simple, maybe a little intimate and stuff idk. just thinking of more fluff.

thank you uuu!!

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕 ♡︎ (Cole Preston X FemReader)

Content: Fluff, Kinda Silly Tenderness, Have Not Played Minecraft In A While, Cole Screaming Lots, Kinda Drabble

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the half-drawn curtains of Cole’s living room, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was one of those rare, perfect days off where neither of you had anywhere to be—no rehearsals, no deadlines, no tours. Just the two of you, tangled together on the big, worn couch like you belonged there.

You were half-lying on top of Cole, your head tucked against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while his fingers traced lazy circles along your back. His other hand rested possessively on your waist, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt every so often in that absentminded, affectionate way he always did. Every few minutes he’d lean down to press another slow, lingering kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

“Mmm,” Cole hummed against your mouth, smiling into the kiss. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes warm and a little sleepy, hair messy from the way you’d been running your fingers through it. “I could stay like this forever, you know.”

You smiled, nuzzling closer and stealing another quick kiss. “Then don’t move. This is perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. For a while you stayed like that kissing lazily, trading gentle touches, whispering little nothings about how much you loved these quiet days together. The world outside could wait.

After a particularly long, tender kiss that left you both a little breathless, Cole pulled back with a playful glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his voice low and warm.“Hey… what if I dusted off my old Xbox? We could play something. I’ve got Minecraft somewhere in the cabinet. We could build a little house together… or just mess around. Only if you want to, though. I’m happy just holding you like this too.”

He gave you that soft, boyish smile—the one that always made your heart do a little flip—waiting for your answer while his fingers kept stroking your side soothingly.

You couldn’t help but grin at his suggestion, your heart feeling all warm and fuzzy. You lifted your head a little, resting your chin on his chest so you could look at him properly.“Yeah, but survival mode,” you said softly, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Creative is fun for like ten minutes, but it gets boring fast. Survival feels more real… we actually have to work together.”

Cole let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Survival it is, then. Honestly, it’s been a while since I played Minecraft at all. I might be kinda rusty.”

“That makes it even more fun, silly,” you teased, your voice full of affection. Before he could reply, you attacked him with kisses—quick, playful pecks all over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and finally landing on his lips again and again.

Cole laughed against your mouth, the sound bright and happy as he tried (and failed) to dodge the barrage of affection. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he returned the kisses with equal enthusiasm, one hand cupping the back of your head.“Okay, okay—mercy!” he gasped between laughs, though he was clearly loving every second. “You’re gonna make me forget how to even set up the console if you keep that up.”

You pulled back just enough to smile down at him, your faces still inches apart. His cheeks were a little flushed, hair even messier now, and the way he was looking at you—like you were the best thing in his whole world—made your chest feel tight in the sweetest way.“Fine,” you said, pressing one last soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But only because I really wanna build a cute little house with you… and maybe watch you panic when a creeper shows up.”

Cole shook his head, still grinning as he sat up slowly, keeping you in his lap. “You’re evil. I love it.” He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “Let me go grab the Xbox. Don’t move too far, okay?”

“Alright… where are you hiding…” he muttered, pulling out a slightly dusty Xbox console. He blew on it gently, then grabbed the power cord and HDMI cable. A few minutes later, the familiar green Xbox logo lit up the screen. Cole inserted the Minecraft disc with a quiet click, and the loading screen began.

He flopped back onto the couch beside you, pulling you right back into his lap like he couldn’t stand even a few minutes apart. You nestled against his chest again, legs tangled with his, while the game loaded.

When the menu finally appeared, Cole’s eyes widened.

“Wait… what the—?” He leaned forward a little, controller in hand, staring at the screen in genuine confusion. “Since when are there baby mobs? And… are those tiny lances? Why do the ghasts look… happy? They’re like little floating carts now? This is wild.”

You burst out laughing, burying your face in his neck as you watched his adorable baffled expression. “You’ve been gone too long, babe. The game’s been updating forever.”

Cole shook his head, a big goofy smile spreading across his face. “I feel ancient. Look at this little zombie baby toddling around with a sword… that’s dangerous and cute at the same time.” He turned to you, eyes sparkling with playful disbelief. “I’m not ready. We’re gonna die immediately.”

You grinned and attacked him with another round of soft kisses, this time peppering them along his jaw and up to his temple. “That’s what makes it fun, remember? My rusty, confused boyfriend trying to survive while I protect our little dirt house.”

He chuckled warmly, wrapping his free arm around your waist and tilting his head to catch your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” he murmured against your mouth, voice low and full of affection. “But okay… let’s create a new world. You ready?”

You nodded, still smiling as you cuddled even closer, your cheek pressed to his shoulder while the world generation bar slowly filled.

You both watched the world generate, the loading bar filling until the familiar music swelled. Cole’s thumb brushed soothing circles on your hip as the screen faded into the new world. The moment it loaded, your eyes lit up.

“Oh my god, Cole… look!” you breathed, sitting up a little straighter in his lap but staying close. “We spawned in a Sakura forest. This is so cute.”

The trees around you bloomed with soft pink petals that drifted gently in the breeze. The grass was lush, cherry blossoms scattered everywhere like a painting. You let out a happy little sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Aaaah, it’s perfect. I already want to build a house right here under the trees.”

Cole stared at the screen, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. He tilted his head, controller resting on your thigh. “What… is this? I don’t recognize any of these trees. Everything looks different. We’re gonna die out here, aren’t we?” He laughed softly, the sound warm against your ear. “Hang on, let me pull up the update summary real quick. I have no idea what’s new anymore.”

He reached for his phone on the coffee table without fully letting go of you, keeping one arm wrapped securely around your waist. While he scrolled quickly, you turned your head and pressed a few soft kisses to his cheek, smiling at how focused he looked.

“You’re adorable when you’re confused,” you murmured, nuzzling closer. “We’ll survive. I’ll protect you from the baby zombies with the tiny lances.”

Cole glanced at you, his expression melting into that sweet, boyish grin. He set the phone aside after a moment and hugged you tighter, kissing the top of your head. “Alright, cherry blossom expert. Let’s explore a bit before it gets dark. But if a ghast cart floats by, I’m blaming you.”

You giggled and grabbed the second controller, both of you still comfortably tangled on the couch as your characters started moving through the beautiful pink forest together.

The pink petals continued to drift across the screen as you both spawned in the beautiful Sakura biome. You grabbed your controller and immediately started punching the nearest cherry blossom tree, the familiar sound of breaking wood filling the living room.

Cole chuckled beside you, his arm still looped around your waist as he joined in, his character moving right next to yours. “Alright, classic survival start. Gotta chop wood first. I remember that much, at least.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder while your fingers worked the buttons. “Yep. Wood, then shelter before night comes. This forest is so pretty I almost don’t want to leave it.”

Cole’s character kept swinging away at the trees, collecting logs that stacked up quickly. After a moment he glanced sideways at you, that soft protective look in his eyes. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’m gonna go mining soon. I’m the man of the house, so I’ll get all the good materials—stone, iron, whatever we need. You can build the house, pretty. I’m not letting you run around exposed to creepers and whatever new weird mobs are out there.”

You turned your head to look at him, warmth blooming in your chest at his sweet, slightly old-fashioned protectiveness. “Cole…” you murmured, setting your controller down for a second just to cup his face and kiss him softly. He melted into it immediately, his free hand coming up to rest against your back.

When you pulled away, he was smiling that shy, happy smile. “What? It’s true. I’ll dig deep and bring you diamonds if I can. You just make us a cute little cherry blossom home.”

You laughed lightly and attacked him with a few more quick kisses on his cheek and jaw. “My brave miner. Fine, deal. But if you get lost underground, I’m coming to save you.”

Cole grinned and gave your waist a gentle squeeze, both of you still comfortably tangled on the couch. His character dropped the last of the wood into a shared chest you’d placed on the ground, and he started heading toward a nearby hill, clearly scouting for a good mining spot. “Deal,” he said, voice warm and full of affection. “Teamwork makes the dream work, right?” Cole’s character ventured toward a rocky hill at the edge of the Sakura forest, torch in hand. You stayed close on the surface for a bit, gathering more flowers and saplings, but kept glancing at his half of the split screen.

He pressed forward, breaking stone with a wooden pickaxe. The cave opened up deeper than expected—lush caves with glowing vines, huge open areas, and strange new formations. Cole’s eyes widened as he stared at the screen.“Wtf… this is so changed,” he muttered, leaning forward a little. “It’s huge down here. When did caves get this big? This feels like a whole different game. Wtf…”

You couldn’t help but smile, setting your controller down briefly so you could wrap both arms around his neck and nuzzle into his shoulder. He was so focused and adorably lost that it made your heart melt.“Babe, no offense,” you said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, “but when was the last update of Minecraft you actually played?”

Cole paused the game for a second and turned his head to look at you, his expression sheepish but amused. He let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… the one with the bees, I think? Bees were the big new thing back then. I remember being excited about honey.”

You giggled and attacked him with more soft kisses—on his cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth—while he pretended to groan in embarrassment.“That was ages ago, silly,” you teased lovingly, brushing his messy hair back from his face. “No wonder everything looks insane to you. But it’s cute. I like teaching my rusty gamer boyfriend the new world.”

Cole smiled that warm, boyish smile that always made you weak and pulled you closer on the couch, his arm tightening around your waist. “Hey, I’m learning. And I still stand by my plan—I’m getting you those diamonds even if the caves are now giant underground wonderlands.” He kissed your forehead tenderly. “Don’t laugh too hard at me, okay? This is bonding.”

You hummed happily against his neck, both of you still tangled together as he unpaused and carefully placed more torches deeper into the mine.

Cole’s character wandered deeper into a lush cave section, the torchlight flickering across glowing lichen and water pools. You were still up on the surface collecting petals and planning where to build, occasionally checking on his screen.“Look at that—babe, come see this,” Cole said suddenly, his voice full of genuine delight. “There’s a little axolotl. It’s so cute. Look at it swimming around all pink and happy.”

You leaned in closer, smiling at how excited he sounded. He tilted the screen slightly toward you so you could watch his character follow the tiny creature through the water.

Then everything changed.

A low, rumbling sound echoed from the depths. The ground shook. A massive, dark figure with glowing tendrils emerged from the shadows behind him. Cole froze for half a second before his character started sprinting.

“What the— what the fuck is that?!” he yelped, eyes wide as he mashed the controls. The Warden let out its terrifying shriek and began chasing him through the caves, each stomp shaking the screen. “Love, come rescue me! I’m gonna die! What the hell is that thing?!”

You burst out laughing, but it was full of affection as you quickly switched your character and started sprinting toward the cave entrance. “That’s a Warden, babe! You woke it up!”

Cole was half-laughing, half-panicking, leaning forward on the couch with you still firmly in his lap. “I was just looking at the axolotl! I didn’t do anything! Save me, please— I’m the worst miner ever.”

Still giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck and peppered his cheek and jaw with quick, reassuring kisses while your character rushed underground with whatever weapons you had. “I’m coming, my brave but very loud miner. Hold on!”

Cole turned his head and caught your lips in a grateful, slightly desperate kiss, smiling against your mouth even as his character kept running in circles trying to escape the Warden’s reach. “You’re my hero,” he murmured between kisses, voice warm and playful. “Never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Nope,” you whispered back, kissing him once more before focusing on the screen again. “But I’ll always come rescue you.”

[alcapzr]

Cole fans you're gonna kill me but I'm fucking drained from all this moving and all that stuff of searching a house sooo the cole marathon will be over in Saturday but...

Not everything is lost I'll be posting them next to the next sapphic Sundays 🐀

As an apology look at my puppy

[alcapzr]

Could you do dylan x bunny!reader smut?

like reader surprises him in a bunny costume and they go from there

𝑮𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒘 ꨄ︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)

Content: Smut, Pet Play, Commands, Unprotected Sex, Praises, Dylan Trying To Get In Character, Ass Slap, Oral Male Receiving

You finished sliding the cool metal plug into place, the fluffy white tail brushing teasingly against the backs of your thighs as you shifted on your knees atop the bed. A soft shiver ran through you at the fullness, the gentle weight of it making your breath hitch just a little. It felt naughty in the best way—perfectly snug, a secret promise of what was coming later.

You reached up and adjusted the matching bunny ears on your head, tilting them slightly in the mirror across the room until they sat just right, framing your face with that playful innocence that you knew would drive him wild. The white babydoll clung to your curves, sheer enough to leave nothing to the imagination, the delicate lace trim grazing your skin and making your nipples tighten against the fabric.

Satisfied with the look, you turned back to the bed and began practicing a few poses, heart already racing in anticipation. You arched your back on all fours, glancing over your shoulder so the tail swayed invitingly. Then you rolled onto your side, one leg bent, letting the babydoll ride up just enough to tease. Every movement sent a fresh spark of heat through you, the plug shifting deliciously with each adjustment. You bit your lip, imagining Dylan’s face when he finally walked through the door from the studio—how his eyes would darken the second they landed on you like this, his perfect little bunny waiting just for him.

You practiced one more pose, sitting up on your heels with your hands resting cutely on your knees, chest pushed forward, a soft, expectant smile playing on your lips. The apartment was quiet for now, but you could already feel the excitement building low in your belly.

You heard the front door click shut, followed by the familiar sound of Dylan kicking off his shoes. Your pulse quickened. A moment later, the bedroom door swung open and there he was, still in his studio hoodie and jeans, hair slightly messy from a long day.

The second his eyes landed on you—kneeling on the bed in nothing but the sheer white babydoll, bunny ears, and that fluffy tail—he froze. Then, without a word, Dylan dropped to his knees right there in the doorway, the door clicking shut behind him. His gaze dragged slowly over every inch of you, dark and hungry, a low groan slipping from his throat. “Look at this cute little naughty bunny,” he murmured, voice already rough with want. His hands flexed at his sides like he was fighting the urge to touch you immediately. “Fuck, baby… you really waited for me like this?”

He stayed on his knees, eyes locked on the way the babydoll barely covered you, the curve of your ass, and the soft sway of that tail every time you shifted. The heat in his stare made your skin tingle. Dylan licked his lips, a slow, predatory smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he drank you in like he’d never seen anything more perfect—or more filthy.“Come here, pretty girl,” he said softly, voice dripping with that mix of adoration and raw desire. “Let me see my bunny up close.”

You shook your head slowly, a playful little smile curving your lips as you tilted your head to the side, bunny ears flopping cutely with the motion. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly telling him you weren’t moving from the bed just yet.

Dylan let out a soft, amused chuckle, still on his knees in the doorway, his gaze never leaving you. “Okay, okay… my bunny wants to stay right there on the bed like a good little bunny,” he murmured, voice warm and teasing, laced with that deepening hunger. He shifted forward on his knees, closing some of the distance but not rushing you. “Then be a sweet girl and give me your paw.”

You leaned forward just enough, extending one delicate hand toward him like the obedient bunny you were playing tonight. Dylan’s fingers wrapped gently around yours, warm and strong, and he brought it to his lips. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the back of your hand, then turned it over to kiss your palm, his breath hot against your skin. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with promise, as his lips brushed another kiss to the inside of your wrist, teeth grazing lightly.

“That’s my good bunny,” he whispered against your skin, voice dropping lower, filthy and affectionate all at once. “So fucking cute… but I can already tell you’re soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“Be a good bunny and move that pretty tail for me,” he said, voice low and rough, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

You obeyed, arching your back slightly and giving a slow, deliberate wiggle of your hips. The fluffy tail swayed and bounced with the movement, the plug shifting inside you and sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. Dylan’s breath hitched visibly, his gaze locked on the way the white tail teased him.

“Fuck, just like that… again,” he murmured, leaning closer until his forearms rested on the edge of the bed. “Hop hop for me, baby. Let me see how my naughty little bunny moves.”

You rose up on your knees and gave a couple of small, playful hops on the mattress, the babydoll riding higher up your thighs with each bounce. Your breasts moved under the sheer fabric, nipples clearly visible, and the tail bobbed enticingly behind you. The motion made the plug press deeper, drawing a soft, involuntary whimper from your lips.

Dylan groaned, one hand fisting the sheets. “Goddamn, look at you. So fucking cute and so filthy for me.” His voice had that perfect mix of adoration and raw lust. “Again, bunny. Hop a little higher this time. Show me how wet that pretty pussy is getting just from following orders.” He watched you with hooded eyes, practically vibrating with restraint, waiting for you to obey while the bulge in his jeans grew more obvious

Dylan pushed himself up from his knees, eyes still glued to you as he stood at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he shoved his jeans down his hips, letting them pool at his ankles before kicking them aside. The thick bulge in his black boxers strained against the fabric, inches from your face.

You leaned in immediately, pressing your cheek against the warm, hard outline of his cock, nuzzling and rubbing your face along the length of it like the eager bunny you were. A soft, needy sound escaped you as you felt him twitch under the thin material.

Dylan let out a shaky breath, one hand coming down to gently stroke your bunny ears. “That’s it… my naughty bunny wants her carrot, huh?” he murmured, voice thick with arousal and amusement.

You had to bite your lip hard to keep from laughing, the playful line making your shoulders shake slightly. Dylan noticed and let out a soft giggle of his own, the sound warm and boyish despite the heat in his eyes.

“Shhh,” he whispered, still grinning as he tried to compose himself, fingers threading through your hair. “I’m getting in character here, baby. Don’t ruin it for me.”bHe gave your ear a gentle tug, then guided your face back against his throbbing bulge, pressing you a little firmer this time. “There we go… good bunny. Keep rubbing that pretty face on it. You’re making me so fucking hard.” His voice dropped again, the giggle fading into a low, filthy groan as you obeyed, your breath hot against the fabric while his other hand caressed your cheek almost tenderly.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of Dylan’s boxers and tugged them down slowly, freeing his cock. It sprang out heavy and flushed, the tip already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base, feeling the heat and the way he pulsed against your palm.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss right to the slick tip, then another, and another sweet little kisses that grew progressively wetter. Your lips parted slightly on the next one, letting your tongue flick out to taste him, swirling gently around the head before pulling back to kiss it again.

Dylan’s breath caught sharply, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, baby…” he groaned, voice husky. “Look at my sweet little bunny kissing my cock like it’s her favorite treat.”

You kept going, placing slow, deliberate kisses all over the swollen head, occasionally letting your lips part to suckle softly or drag your tongue across the slit to collect the bead of precum that kept leaking for you. The contrast between the innocent bunny outfit and the filthy way you worshipped his cock made everything feel even hotter.

Dylan’s hips twitched forward slightly, but he held himself back, letting you set the pace. “That’s it… good girl. Kiss it just like that. You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” His free hand cupped your jaw tenderly, thumb stroking your cheek while you continued your soft, teasing kisses, eyes looking up at him through your lashes.

You looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes framed by the bunny ears and slowly parted your lips wider. You took the head of Dylan’s cock into your warm mouth, sucking gently at first, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive tip as you savored the salty taste of him.

Dylan’s groan was low and guttural, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Shit… that’s my good bunny,” he breathed, voice rough with pleasure. “Suck it just like that.”

You took him deeper, cheeks hollowing as you bobbed your head slowly, sucking with wet, rhythmic pulls. Your hand stroked the base in time with your mouth, twisting gently while your tongue pressed flat along the underside of his shaft. Every time you pulled back you let the head pop from your lips with a soft, obscene sound before sucking him back in, a little deeper each time.

The fluffy tail behind you swayed with your movements, the plug shifting inside you and making you moan around his cock. The vibration drew another broken curse from Dylan.

“Fuck, baby… you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. One hand caressed your bunny ears while the other guided your head just a little, not forcing, just encouraging. “My naughty little bunny… sucking me so good. You’re getting so messy for me already, aren’t you?”

You hummed in response, taking him even deeper until he brushed the back of your throat, eyes watering slightly but never breaking eye contact.

Soft, wet sounds filled the room as you moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch against your tongue. Dylan’s breathing grew ragged, his hips rocking gently into your mouth as he fought to stay in control.

“Enough, baby,” he rasped after a few more blissful moments, voice strained with need. He gently tugged you off his cock with a wet pop, his length glistening with your spit. “I need to feel that pretty pussy. Come here.” Dylan climbed onto the bed and lay back against the pillows, his cock standing hard and slick against his stomach. He reached for you, hands sliding over your hips as he guided you to straddle him. His eyes roamed hungrily over your body—the sheer babydoll, the bunny ears still perfectly in place, and that fluffy tail peeking out behind you.“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with lust and affection. One hand came up to cup your cheek while the other gripped your thigh. “My sweet, filthy little bunny. I want you to ride me. Sink that wet pussy down on my cock and let me feel how much you’ve been aching for it.”

He pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your ass, fingers brushing teasingly against the base of the plug, making you gasp. His cock throbbed beneath you, waiting, as he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes. “C’mon, baby… be a good girl and take what you want.”

You hovered over him, heart racing, when Dylan reached for your hands again.“Give me those paws, bunny,” he said softly, voice husky with need.

You placed your hands in his without hesitation. He laced your fingers together and used the hold to guide you down slowly, the thick head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. You both moaned as he helped you sink onto him, inch by inch, stretching you open until you were fully seated in his lap, the fluffy tail brushing against his thighs.

“Fuck… so tight and wet for me,” Dylan groaned, squeezing your hands. He looked up at you with pure hunger, cheeks flushed. “Now hop hop, baby. Bounce on my cock like the good little bunny you are.”

You started moving, rising and dropping on his length with small, eager hops at first. The plug in your ass made everything feel impossibly fuller, intensifying every motion. Dylan’s grip on your hands kept you steady as you found a rhythm, your breasts bouncing under the sheer babydoll with each hop.

“That’s it… hop for me,” he encouraged, voice rough and filthy. “Look at my pretty bunny riding my cock so well. Harder, baby. Let me feel that tail bounce too.”

You obeyed, bouncing faster, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with your shared moans. Dylan’s hands eventually released yours so he could grip your hips, helping you move, thumbs digging into your skin as he thrust up to meet you. His eyes stayed locked on your face, then on the way your body moved on top of him, adoration and raw lust written all over his expression.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he panted, one hand sliding back to tug gently on your tail, making the plug shift deliciously inside you. “Keep hopping, bunny. Don’t stop until I say so.”

You started riding him properly, rising and dropping with small, playful hops that made your fluffy tail bounce cutely behind you. Each little jump sent his thick cock sliding deep inside your soaked pussy, the plug in your ass adding that delicious extra pressure that made your moans come out breathier.

Dylan’s hands tightened on your hips at first, guiding you, but soon one of them slid back to your ass. He gave you a firm, sharp spank, the sound cracking through the room as his palm connected with your cheek.“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “Hop just like that, bunny.”

You gasped at the sting, clenching around him, which only made him thrust up harder to meet your next hop. He spanked you again, this time on the other cheek, then soothed the skin with a gentle rub before landing another playful smack. The mix of pleasure and the light burn had you bouncing faster, your small saltitos turning into fuller, needier rides.

“Such a naughty little bunny,” Dylan panted, eyes dark as he watched you, one hand still gripping your hip while the other kept spanking you in time with your movements—sharp, affectionate slaps that made your ass jiggle and the tail sway. “Look at you… riding my cock so good, taking every inch while that pretty tail bounces for me.” He delivered another firm spank, then squeezed your reddened cheek, pulling you down harder onto him. His hips snapped up, meeting you halfway, the wet sounds of your pussy taking him growing louder and messier with every hop. You could feel how deep he was, hitting that perfect spot over and over while the plug kept you impossibly full.

“Don’t slow down, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with pleasure. “Keep hopping for me. I want to feel this tight pussy cum all over my cock.”

His hand kept alternating between spanking and squeezing, turning your skin warm and sensitive as you rode him with increasing desperation.

You kept bouncing on his cock with those eager little hops, your moans growing louder and needier with every drop. Dylan’s hand came down again and again, delivering firmer, louder spanks that made your ass burn deliciously and your pussy clench hard around him.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and breathless between groans. “God, you really love it when I spank this cute little ass, don’t you, bunny?” he teased, voice thick with amusement and lust. Another sharp smack landed, followed by a soothing rub. “Look at you… getting wetter every time my hand hits you. Such a filthy, cute bunny”

Between broken moans and gasps, you managed to whimper out the words, voice shaky with pleasure. “Dylan… please… the plug— it feels like it’s gonna slip out.”

Dylan’s eyes darkened with fresh heat at your plea. He slowed your movements for a moment, gripping your hips to hold you down fully on his cock. His hand slid back to your ass, fingers finding the base of the fluffy tail. He gave it a gentle tug first, making you gasp sharply, then carefully pushed the plug deeper, seating it firmly back inside you with a slow, deliberate twist.“There we go, baby,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “All nice and snug again. Can’t have my bunny losing her tail while she’s riding me so well.”

He gave your ass one more playful spank for good measure, then started guiding your hips again, encouraging you to resume those sweet little hops. His cock throbbed deep inside you, the renewed fullness from the plug making everything feel even more intense.“Keep going,” he whispered against your skin, nipping lightly at your neck. “Bounce for me. I want to feel you fall apart just like this.”

Dylan suddenly sat up, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. The new position shifted him even deeper inside you, making you cry out softly. Your arms flew around his neck instinctively, clinging to him as you continued riding his cock with desperate little hops.“That’s it, baby… hold onto me,” he whispered hotly against your ear, one hand splayed across your back while the other gripped your ass, helping you move. “Ride me just like that. Let me feel all of you.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, moaning loudly as the angle hit perfectly with every bounce. Your nails dragged down his back, leaving red trails that made him hiss in pleasure and thrust up harder into you. The fluffy tail brushed against his thighs with each movement, the plug pressing deep as you clenched around his thick cock.“Dylan… I’m so close,” you whimpered between broken moans, your voice trembling with the building pleasure. Your hips moved faster, grinding and hopping on him with pure need, breasts pressed against his chest through the sheer babydoll.

He groaned deeply, holding you tighter, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, bunny? Let me feel this pretty pussy squeezing my cock,” he rasped, voice rough and loving all at once. “Scratch me up, baby. Mark me while you hop on it. I want to feel you lose it.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders again as the pressure built unbearably, your moans turning into high, needy whimpers right against his skin. Dylan kept fucking up into you, meeting every desperate bounce, his breath hot on your neck as he whispered filthy praises and sweet encouragement, pushing you right to the edge.

You shattered hard around him.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body with blinding intensity. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your pussy clenched violently around Dylan’s cock, pulsing and fluttering with every powerful contraction. Your nails dug deeper into his back, scratching down as your hips stuttered and shook on top of him. Tears slipped down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure, your whole body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

“Dylan— fuck!” you cried out, voice cracking as the orgasm kept rolling through you, wave after wave.

He didn’t stop. Dylan held you tighter against his chest, one arm locked around your waist while his hips snapped up into you with deep, steady thrusts, fucking you through every shuddering second of your climax. His cock drove into your spasming pussy relentlessly, drawing out your pleasure until you were gasping and sobbing against his neck.

“That’s my good bunny,” he groaned, voice strained but full of adoration. “Cum so fucking hard for me… look at you, crying on my cock like a pretty little mess. So perfect.” He kept moving, slower now but still deep, grinding up into you to prolong the high. One hand stroked your back soothingly while the other gripped your ass, occasionally tugging at the base of the plug to make you jolt with aftershocks. Your tears soaked his skin as you whimpered and moaned, body limp and twitching in his embrace, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you through it.

Dylan pressed soft kisses to your temple and cheek, murmuring sweet, filthy praises right against your ear. “I’ve got you, baby… let it all out. My beautiful, naughty bunny.” He didn’t pull out, still buried deep inside your pulsing heat, letting you ride out the last tremors while holding you close.

[mothmonologue]

My life is a constant cycle between "I need to rest before I burn out" and "I'm wasting my potential, I should work harder"

[alcapzr]

People I just wanna tell you in advance that maybe cole marathon isn't so so good and also the upcoming fics cause I'm moving soo there's no test reading before posting and the process has been a chaos

It's gonna happen just I'm excusing cause maybe sucks

[alcapzr]

Dylan angst based on the cure by Olivia Rodrigo where the reader struggles with her mental health (preferably BPD)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒆 ఌ︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)

Content: Angst, Meltdown, Dylan's Saviour Complex, Conversation, Sorta Drabble

Dylan had always been good at reading people. It came with years of acting, of studying micro-expressions and the way someone’s shoulders carried unspoken weight. But with you, it was different. He didn’t have to study. He just knew.

Lately, though, the knowing had turned into a low, constant unease that settled behind his ribs.

You were sitting on the couch in his living room, knees drawn up to your chest, the same oversized hoodie you’d stolen from him months ago swallowing your frame. The TV was on some old rerun neither of you were really watching. He’d been talking about the new song they were workshopping in the studio, about how Cole kept pushing the bridge in a direction that felt too polished, and you’d nodded at the right moments. But your responses had been shorter. Quieter. Like each word cost you something.

He glanced over again. Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but they weren’t tracking the dialogue. There was a new bottle of medication on the kitchen counter when he got home earlier—higher dose, different label. You hadn’t mentioned it. You never did when things got heavier.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to brush his fingers along your arm. Your skin was warm, but you didn’t lean into the touch the way you usually did. “You okay?”

You hummed in response, a noncommittal sound that could have meant anything. A week ago you would have curled into his side and teased him about worrying too much. Tonight you just rested your cheek against your knee and stared ahead.

Dylan swallowed. He’d noticed the distance creeping in over the past ten days. The way you answered texts a little slower. The way you’d started finding small reasons to leave early or suggest separate plans. The way your laughter came a beat too late, like it had to fight its way through fog. He told himself it was stress—work, life, the constant noise of everything. But the increased medication told a different story. You were adjusting doses again, trying to steady the ground beneath your feet, and you were doing it without letting him in.

He hated that part most.

“You’ve been… quiet,” he tried again, shifting closer on the couch. His voice stayed gentle, careful not to sound accusatory. “More than usual. If something’s going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You finally looked at him. For a moment your eyes softened, the familiar warmth flickering there—the one that made his chest ache in the best way. But it was quickly guarded, shuttered behind something heavier.“I’m fine, Dylan,” you said. The words were even, almost practiced. “Just tired.”

He nodded like he believed you, because pushing too hard right now would only make you pull away faster. That was the pattern he was starting to recognize: when the inside of your head got too loud, you created space. Not out of cruelty, but out of some deep, exhausted instinct to protect both of you. He understood it on paper. He’d read the books. He’d listened when you explained it on better days. But living it still felt like watching you slowly close a door he desperately wanted to keep open.

Later that night, after you’d fallen asleep on the couch with your head in his lap, Dylan stayed awake. His hand rested lightly on your hair, thumb tracing slow, absent circles. He thought about the first time you’d let him see the raw parts—the nights you couldn’t explain why everything felt like too much, the way your moods could swing like a storm that came out of nowhere. He had promised himself he wouldn’t try to be your savior. He knew better. And yet here he was, already feeling that pull: the need to fix it, to hold you through it, to prove that he could be steady enough for both of you.

Morning light filtered through the half-closed blinds of Dylan’s bedroom, casting soft stripes across the rumpled sheets. You had migrated from the couch sometime in the night, guided by his quiet insistence that you’d sleep better in bed. He’d held you close, his chest a steady anchor against your back, but even in sleep you had felt miles away.

Now you sat at the edge of the mattress, wearing one of his old band tees, staring at your hands. The mug of coffee Dylan had brought you was cooling untouched on the nightstand.

He emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, towel slung low around his hips. Normally the sight would have earned you a playful comment or at least a lingering look. Today you barely registered it.

Dylan paused in the doorway, studying you with that careful, searching gaze he’d been wearing more and more lately. He crossed the room and sat beside you, close but not crowding.

“Morning,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered. “You barely slept.”

You shrugged. The motion felt heavy.

He took a breath. “Listen… I can see something’s going on. You’ve been distant. Quieter. I saw the new prescription on the counter.” His voice remained gentle, no judgment, only concern. “Are you okay? Do you want me to drive you to your psychiatrist? I can clear my schedule today. We can go together if you need.”

The offer was so Dylan practical, supportive, ready to step in. It made your chest tighten painfully.

You turned to look at him. His blue eyes were full of that familiar warmth, the kind that made you feel seen and terrified at the same time. You swallowed hard.

“I need to talk to you,” you said. Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

Dylan’s expression softened immediately, relief flickering across his face like he’d been waiting for this opening. He reached for your hand, threading your fingers together.“Of course, love. You know you can tell me anything. I’m right here.”

The tenderness in his voice almost broke you right there. You stared at your joined hands for a long moment, thumb brushing over his knuckles almost absentmindedly. Then you slowly pulled your hand back.

“No, Dylan.”

The words landed heavier than you intended. His brow furrowed, confusion and a flash of worry crossing his features.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked, still gentle but with an undercurrent of unease. He shifted closer, trying to regain that physical connection. “Baby, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt the familiar storm rising inside the one that whispered you were too much, that you would inevitably ruin this, that pulling away now was kinder than letting him drown with you later. Your medication had been increased for a reason. The episodes had been getting longer, the emptiness deeper, the fear of abandonment sharper even when he was right in front of you.

This was the bad kind of conversation. The one where you tried to explain that sometimes loving you felt like trying to hold water in your hands. That no matter how much he wanted to be your savior, he couldn’t fix the parts of you that fractured over and over again.

You took a shaky breath, eyes dropping to the floor.“I… I don’t know how to say this without hurting you,” you whispered. “But I think I need to.”

Dylan’s hand found your knee, grounding, pleading. “Then say it. I can take it. Just don’t shut me out.”

The ache in his voice was already there the early notes of a man who believed he could love you hard enough to make the darkness retreat. You hadn’t even said the hardest parts yet, and already it felt like the beginning of the end.

The silence stretched between you for what felt like minutes. Dylan’s hand remained on your knee, warm and steady, but you could feel the tension building in his fingers, the way they pressed just a little tighter as if he could physically hold you in place.

You finally looked up at him, eyes burning with the effort of keeping your voice even. The words had been circling in your head for days, rehearsed in the quiet hours when the thoughts got too loud and the medication made everything feel both sharper and duller at once.“You know this is for life, right?” you said quietly. Your throat felt tight. “What I have… it doesn’t go away. No matter how much you love me, no matter how hard you fight to fix it or carry it with me. It’s not something you can cure. It’s just… me. Forever.”

Dylan’s expression shifted—pain flashing across his features, followed quickly by that stubborn determination you had come to recognize so well. He shook his head slightly, already rejecting the premise.“Baby—”

“No, Dylan. Listen.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through. “I’m offering you the exit. Right now. Before it gets worse. Before I drag you down with me for the rest of your life. You deserve something better than this. Please… just let me go.”

The last words came out almost like a plea, raw and exhausted. You had spent so many nights terrified of abandonment, of him leaving first, and now here you were handing him the door and begging him to walk through it. It hurt worse than you had imagined. The fear of him actually taking the out warred with the deeper certainty that staying would only break him eventually.

Dylan stared at you, eyes wide and glistening. For a second he looked like you had slapped him. Then he moved, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of you so he could look up into your face, both of his hands finding yours and gripping them firmly.“No,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m not taking any exit. I’m not letting you do this. I knew what I was getting into. I chose you— all of you. The good days, the hard ones, the ones where you pull away like this. I’m not going anywhere.”

His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, almost frantic. “We’ll figure it out together. Therapy, meds, whatever you need. I’ll go with you to every appointment if you want. I can be better. I can love you enough to make the weight lighter. Just… don’t push me away. Please don’t do this.”

There it was the savior in him, bright and aching, refusing to see the reality you were trying to hand him. He believed he could be the one who stayed when everything else felt impossible. And part of you wanted so badly to believe him, to sink into his arms and let him carry it.

But the other part—the one that knew the lifelong pattern too intimately—knew how this usually ended.

You pulled one hand free and gently touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with trembling fingers. Tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts.“Dylan… I’m trying to protect you.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes fierce. “I don’t want protection. I want you.”

You watched the way his face crumpled and then hardened again with that stubborn hope, and something inside you snapped not in anger, but in exhaustion. The kind that came from years of cycling through this exact fear.

“Dylan, for fuck’s sake, understand me,” you said, your voice rising even as it trembled. Tears slipped down your cheeks now, hot and unchecked. “This is one of my easy days. This. Right now. When it really goes to shit—when the emptiness hits so hard I can’t get out of bed, when I push you away for weeks because I’m convinced you’re going to leave anyway, when the mood swings make me say things I don’t mean and the fear makes me test you until you break—what are you going to do then?”

You pulled your other hand free and stood up, needing space before you drowned in his closeness. Dylan rose with you, reaching out but stopping short when you stepped back.

“One day you’re going to wake up and realize you’re trapped here with me,” you continued, the words pouring out raw and unfiltered. “That you could have found someone easier. Someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage. Someone whose brain doesn’t fight them every single day. And you’re going to resent me for it. I know you will.”

Your breath hitched. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold despite the warm morning light filling the room.“There is no cure, Dylan. You’re not going to be the one who fixes me. There’s no magical love that makes this disappear. It’s lifelong. It’s me. And I’m offering you the chance to walk away before you wake up one morning and realize you stayed out of guilt or some savior complex instead of actually wanting this forever.”

The room felt too small. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the familiar terror of abandonment twisting with the guilt of being the one to push him toward the door. You hated this part of yourself—the part that needed him so badly but was convinced you’d destroy him if he stayed.

Dylan stood there, breathing hard, eyes red-rimmed and shining with unshed tears. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them if he couldn’t hold you.

“I don’t care,” he said, voice cracking. He took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough to cup your face with both hands, thumbs wiping at your tears. “I don’t need you to be easy. I don’t need a cure. I just need you. The real you. Bad days and all. I’m not going to wake up resenting you because I’m choosing this every day. Let me choose you.”

His forehead pressed against yours, desperate, clinging. “Please don’t make me leave. I’m not trapped. I’m home.”

But you could already see it—the way his love was wrapping around the idea of saving you, refusing to hear the lifelong weight you were trying to make him understand. And it terrified you how much you still wanted to believe him.

You let him hold your face for a moment longer, his forehead against yours, his breath warm and shaky. But the closeness only made the words burn hotter in your throat. You gently pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Do you actually love me, Dylan?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper but edged with something sharp and exhausted. “Or did you fall in love with the idea of fixing me?”

The question landed between you like a stone dropping into still water. Dylan’s hands dropped to your shoulders, his brows knitting together in confusion and hurt.“What? No—of course I love you. That’s not—”

“You don’t know how my brain actually works,” you cut in, the words coming faster now. “Not really. Because I’ve been pretending with you. I’ve been managing, masking, keeping the worst parts hidden so I don’t scare you away. The constant noise in my head, the way one small thing can make me feel like everything is ending, the fear that you’ll leave even when you’re right here… I hide it. Every day. Because if you saw the full version—the unfiltered one—you might finally understand why this isn’t something you can carry forever.”

Tears kept falling, but you didn’t bother wiping them. Your hands trembled at your sides.“I’m always editing myself around you. Smiling when I feel empty. Saying I’m ‘just tired’ when the thoughts are screaming. And you think you can save me because you’ve only seen the version I let you see. But that’s not fair to either of us. If you’re in love with the girl you can fix, the one who has bad moments but ultimately gets better because of your love… then you’re not in love with me. Not the real me.”

Dylan looked stricken, like every word was carving into him. He shook his head, stepping closer again, refusing the distance you kept trying to create.“I see you,” he insisted, voice rough with emotion. “I see more than you think. The way you fight every single day just to stay here. The way you still reach for me even when everything in you is telling you not to. That’s not pretending. That’s you. And yeah, maybe I want to help carry the load, but it’s because I love the whole person in front of me. Not some project. Not some idea.”

He swallowed hard, eyes searching yours desperately.“Please believe me. I’m not here to fix you like you’re broken. I’m here because you’re the one I want. All of it.”

But you could hear the savior tone bleeding through his words—the belief that his love could be the anchor strong enough to keep the storms from pulling you under. And it only made the ache deeper, because you knew the truth your brain had drilled into you for years: no one stayed once they saw everything.

The weight of his words hung in the air, but they couldn’t push back the rising tide you felt building inside your chest. That familiar shift—the one where everything started to feel too loud, too heavy, too unstable. You recognized the signs: the numbness creeping in at the edges, the spiral waiting to pull you under. An episode was coming, and you didn’t want him here for it. Not like this.

You stepped back again, shaking your head as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Please just go, Dylan,” you whispered, voice breaking. Then louder, more desperate: “Go. I’m begging you. Get out.”

Dylan froze, pain flashing raw across his face. “No. I’m not leaving you like this.”

You started crying harder, the sobs rising up uncontrollably. Your hands came up to cover your face for a second before you forced them down, needing him to see the truth even as it destroyed you.“I’m trying to save you,” you choked out between sobs. “I can feel it coming—an episode. It’s going to be bad. And I don’t want you to have this memory of me when you finally leave. The screaming or the silence or the way I won’t be able to look at you because everything hurts too much. I don’t want that to be the last thing you remember.”

Your shoulders shook as you wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, trying to hold it together for just a few more seconds.“Please… just go. I love you enough to let you walk away before I ruin everything. Before you see the version I can’t hide anymore. Just… leave. I’m begging you.”

Dylan’s own eyes filled with tears. He looked shattered, torn between the instinct to pull you into his arms and the fear of making it worse. He took one hesitant step forward, then stopped, hands hovering like he didn’t know where they belonged anymore.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, voice hoarse and stubborn, cracking with emotion. “Not now. Not ever. We can get through this together. Let me stay. Let me help.”

But you could only shake your head, crying harder, the plea turning into a broken whisper.“Go… please.”

Instead of stepping back, he closed the distance in one stride and pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you so tightly it felt like he was trying to hold your pieces together by sheer force of will. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades. He held you like you might vanish if he loosened his grip even a little.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered fiercely into your hair, voice thick with tears he was no longer trying to hide. “You can push and you can beg and you can try to save me, but I’m staying. I love you. I love you so much it hurts.”

You collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest as the episode loomed closer, the emotions crashing over you in violent waves. For a long moment you let yourself be held, breathing in the familiar scent of him—his shampoo, the faint trace of the studio still clinging to his skin. It felt safe. It felt like home. And that only made it worse.

When you could finally speak, your voice came out muffled against his shirt, small and painfully honest.“I wish you could,” you confessed brokenly. “God, Dylan… you have no idea how much I wish you could actually cure me. How many times I’ve lain awake hoping that your love would be the thing that finally made it stop—the emptiness, the fear, the way my brain twists everything until I can’t trust what I feel. I want it so badly. I want to believe you can fix me.”

You clutched at the back of his shirt, fingers digging in as another sob shook you.“But you can’t. And I’m so fucking scared that one day you’ll realize that and hate me for it.”

Dylan only held you tighter, his own tears falling silently into your hair. His arms trembled with the effort of keeping you close, refusing to let the moment slip away. He didn’t argue this time. He just held on, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded too.

“I’m here,” he kept repeating softly, over and over, a quiet promise against the storm. “I’m right here.” Dylan pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still framing your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. His eyes were red, desperate, filled with a love so fierce it almost hurt to meet them.“Why won’t you let me try?” he whispered, voice raw. “Let me be your cure. Let me prove that I can be the one who stays through all of it. Why won’t you let me?”

Before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t soft or sweet it was deep, urgent, almost pleading. His lips moved against yours with everything he couldn’t put into words: the fear, the devotion, the stubborn refusal to accept the limits you were trying to show him. You kissed him back just as hard, tasting salt from both your tears, clinging to the moment even as your mind screamed that this wouldn’t change anything.

You both knew it wouldn’t work. Not really. Love wasn’t medicine. It couldn’t rewrite the wiring in your brain or silence the episodes when they came. But for those few seconds, with his mouth on yours and his hands holding you like you were the most precious thing in his world, it felt like maybe—just maybe—it could.

When he finally pulled away, forehead resting against yours again, he spoke in a broken murmur.“Well… but at least you won’t sink alone.”

The words wrapped around your heart like a lifeline and a chain at the same time. He was offering himself completely, ready to go down with you if that’s what it took. Part of you wanted to push him away one last time. The other part—the exhausted, lonely part—wanted nothing more than to let him stay.

You closed your eyes, still crying quietly as you leaned into him, your hands fisting in his shirt.“Dylan…” you breathed, the fight draining out of your voice for the moment.

He held you tighter, rocking you gently in his arms like he could shield you from the storm already gathering inside your head.“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

[alcapzr]

Could you please write a smut fic with Dean where after reader spends the afternoon practicing ballet (she dances for Briar U) Dean wants to see how flexible reader really is 😛🙏

𝑺𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 ꨄ︎ (Dean Di Laurentis X FemReader)

Content: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Car Sex, Teasing Dean, Idk What Else To Tag, Humorous Dean

You finished the last set of grand battements, legs burning in that satisfying way that only ballet could deliver. The studio was quiet now, the rest of the company already gone, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint echo of your breathing. You moved to the barre for your final stretches, one hand resting lightly on the worn wood as you lifted your right leg high, folding it into a perfect développé. The mirror reflected the long line of your body—back arched just enough, core tight, the thin fabric of your leotard clinging to your skin from the sweat of rehearsal.

Your phone buzzed on the floor beside your bag. Then again. And again. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Still, you lowered your leg gracefully and glanced down. Dean’s name lit up the screen with a string of messages, each one more impatient and teasing than the last.

> Dean: Almost there, baby. You better be ready for me.

> Dean: How’s my favorite ballerina doing? Still stretching that pretty body?

> Dean: Fuck, I’ve been thinking about you in that leotard the whole drive. Hurry up and finish so I can pick you up.

> Dean: 5 minutes out. Don’t make me come in there and drag you out myself.

A small smile tugged at your lips as heat curled low in your stomach. You shook your head, trying to focus, and returned to the barre. You hooked your heel onto the wooden rail, stretching forward over your extended leg until your chest brushed your thigh. The position pulled everything tight—hamstrings, back, hips—and you held it, breathing through the deep burn.

Another buzz.

> Dean: I’m pulling up now. You have no idea what I’m gonna do to you tonight.

You straightened up slowly, rolling your shoulders as the familiar thrum of anticipation settled under your skin. Outside the studio windows, you could already see the headlights of his car cutting through the evening darkness. Dean Di Laurentis had arrived, and from the tone of those texts, he wasn’t planning on being patient for long.

You reached for your towel, dabbing at the sweat on your neck, heart already beating faster than it had during the entire rehearsal. You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and pushed open the studio door, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin. Dean’s car was idling right outside, the headlights cutting through the darkness like a promise.

The second you opened the passenger door, his eyes locked on you—dark, hungry, and already undressing you in that way only he could.

You slid into the seat, barely closing the door before you leaned over the console and kissed him. Hard. Dean’s hand immediately cupped the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into it, his mouth hot and demanding against yours. When you finally pulled back for air, his lips curved into that signature smirk.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough. He leaned in closer, nose brushing along the side of your neck, inhaling deeply. “I love how you smell when you’re all sweaty like this. Sweet and worked up… like you’ve been dancing just for me.”

You laughed softly, cheeks warming, but the sound died in your throat when his hand slid down your side, fingers catching the edge of your oversized hoodie. The zipper had slipped down a little during the drive over, and as you shifted, the fabric gaped open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the tight black leotard underneath—clinging to your damp skin, the high cut of it showing off the curve of your waist and the long lines of your legs.

Dean froze for half a second, eyes darkening.“Fuck me…” he breathed, voice dropping an octave. His thumb traced the exposed edge of the leotard, brushing warm skin. “You just made the happiest man in the fucking world, you know that? Sitting here in nothing but this tiny little thing under that hoodie… Christ, I’m already losing my mind.”

His hand lingered, possessive and teasing, fingers pressing lightly against your ribs as he pulled you in for another kiss this one slower, filthier, his tongue sliding against yours like he was already imagining everything he was going to do to you once you got home.

He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in again, that perfect mix of clean sweat and your usual sweet scent driving him crazy.“You’re gonna be so flexible for me tonight, aren’t you, baby?” he whispered against your lips, the words dripping with filthy promise.

You couldn’t help it—you let out a soft giggle against his mouth, the sound light and breathless.

“Keep it in your pants, Di Laurentis,” you teased, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him again, deeper this time, your fingers threading through his hair.

Dean groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips. Before you could pull back, his hands gripped your waist and he hauled you across the console with ease, settling you right on his lap. Your knees straddled his thighs, the steering wheel pressing lightly against your back as your hoodie rode up even higher, exposing more of the sleek black leotard underneath.

“Fuck keeping it in my pants,” he muttered, voice thick with want. His hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, palms hot against your bare sides, thumbs stroking the damp fabric of the leotard. “Not when you show up looking like this.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward the empty parking lot outside, then back to you, dark and wicked.“It’s late… you think anyone’s still coming around here at this hour?” he asked, voice rough as his fingers dug into your hips, pulling you down harder against the growing bulge in his jeans. “Because I don’t know if I can wait until we get home, baby. Not with you smelling like sin and wearing this tiny fucking thing.”

His lips trailed along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot just below your ear.“Tell me no one’s gonna walk by and see me fucking you in this car,” he whispered hotly, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through the leotard, thumb brushing over your nipple. “Or tell me you don’t care if they do.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your forehead resting against his as you glanced out the fogging windows at the completely deserted parking lot.“Nope,” you whispered, still giggling softly. “No one’s coming by at this hour. We’re good.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with pure heat. “Good,” he growled. He didn’t waste another second. His mouth crashed into yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth and raw need. One arm banded around your waist as he somehow managed to maneuver both of you between the seats with that effortless strength of his. You ended up in the back, Dean pulling you down on top of him so you were straddling his lap again, your hoodie now completely unzipped and hanging off one shoulder.

You broke the kiss just enough to laugh against his lips, playful and a little dizzy from how fast he moved.“You’re so crazy, baby,” you murmured, fingers tugging at his hair.

Dean’s hands roamed greedily over your body, sliding under the leotard to grip your ass, squeezing hard as he rocked you against the thick ridge of his cock trapped in his jeans.

“So fucking crazy about you,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. He kissed you again, deeper, filthier, like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. “Been thinking about this tight little body all damn day. You have no idea what you do to me, ballerina.”

His fingers slipped higher, tracing the edge of the leotard between your thighs, teasing the damp fabric there as he nipped at your bottom lip.“Gonna stretch you out so good tonight… but first I need to taste how wet you already are for me.”

You pulled back just enough to press a hand against Dean’s chest, laughing breathlessly as his fingers kept trying to slip under the crotch of your leotard.“Nuh uh, wait a bit, you greedy boy,” you teased, biting your lip to hide your smile. Your voice came out softer than you meant, already husky from the way he was looking at you.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, but that wicked grin spread across his face. His hands settled on your thighs instead, squeezing the toned muscle there like he couldn’t stop touching you.“Oh yeah?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You’re gonna show me that perfect split angle of yours, baby. Right here. I’ve been dying to see how flexible my little ballerina really is.”

You giggled again, cheeks warm, but you shook your head and tugged playfully at the collar of his shirt.“Nuh uh. I just think it’s unfair you’re still all dressed while I’m sitting here in nothing but this leotard and tights,” you said, running your fingers down his chest. “If I’m gonna stretch for you, you have to lose some clothes first, Di Laurentis.”

Dean groaned, the sound deep and needy, his hips rolling up against you so you could feel exactly how hard he was.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he rasped, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. He yanked it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it to the front seat. The sight of his bare chest and those defined abs made your mouth water. “Better?”

His hands immediately returned to your body, sliding up under your hoodie to push it completely off your shoulders, leaving you in just the tight black leotard and the sheer tights that clung to your legs.“Now be a good girl and show me,” he whispered hotly against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Spread those pretty legs for me.”

You smiled down at him, slow and teasing, your hands sliding down his bare chest as you rocked your hips once, just enough to make him groan.“Shhh,” you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Let your ballerina have some fun first.”

Dean’s eyes darkened with lust, but he stayed quiet, watching you with that intense, hungry stare that always made your stomach flip. Your fingers trailed lower, dancing over his abs until they reached the waistband of his jeans. You popped the button open slowly, deliberately, then dragged the zipper down. The sound was loud in the quiet car.

You slipped your hand inside, teasing along the edge of his boxers, feeling the hard, hot length of him straining against the fabric. Dean hissed through his teeth, hips twitching up into your touch. “Fuck, baby…” he breathed.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you tugged his boxers down just enough to free his cock, wrapping your fingers around the thick, throbbing shaft. He was already leaking at the tip, hot and heavy in your palm. You gave him one slow stroke from base to head, thumb swirling over the sensitive tip, spreading the wetness.

Dean cursed again, head falling back against the seat, one hand gripping your thigh hard while the other fisted in your hoodie.“That’s it,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Touch me, ballerina. Been hard as fuck for you since I picked you up.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his jaw as you kept stroking him with long, teasing pulls, feeling him twitch and pulse in your hand. The way he looked at you—like he wanted to devour you whole—made heat flood between your legs.

Dean’s cock throbbed hot and heavy in your palm, veins pulsing under your fingers as you squeezed just the way you knew he liked.

“You get so fucking hard just thinking about me dancing, don’t you?” you murmured with a playful little smile, eyes locked on his face. “All those tight leotards and splits… bet you were sitting in class earlier imagining me bending like this for you.”

Dean let out a wrecked chuckle that turned into a groan when you swiped your thumb over the slick head again.“Guilty as charged, baby,” he rasped, hips rolling up into your fist. “Fuck, the second I picture you in that studio, legs spread wide, ass up in those tiny tights… I’m done. Look at me. Rock fucking hard because my ballerina’s been stretching all afternoon.”

You giggled softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth while your hand kept working him, faster now, twisting at the head on every upstroke.“And tonight?” you teased, voice sweet and filthy. “You’re really gonna try to fold me in half, huh?”

Dean’s eyes flashed with pure heat. His hand slid up your thigh, gripping hard as he pulled you closer.“Oh, I’m not gonna try, baby,” he growled, voice low and dripping with promise. “Your pretty little feet are gonna touch your ears by the time I’m done with you. Gonna bend you into every position that tight body can handle and fuck you so deep you forget your own name.”

He groaned again as you squeezed him tighter, precum dripping down over your fingers.“Keep stroking me just like that and I might not even make it to the stretching part… but I’m still gonna have you split open for me tonight. That’s a fucking promise.”

Dean didn’t let you finish another stroke. He surged up, cupping your face with both hands, and kissed you hard deep and possessive, tongue sliding against yours like he was claiming every moan. You melted into it, your hand still loosely wrapped around his cock until he gently pulled it away so he could move.

In one smooth, strong motion, he flipped you onto your back across the backseat. Your head landed on the cool leather, legs parting naturally as he settled between them, his body pressing you down. The car felt even smaller now, windows fully fogged, the air thick with heat and want. “You’re so fucking flexible, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough and low, “but I’m strong. Gonna hold you exactly how I want you. Bend you open and keep you there while I fuck you stupid.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes even as your heart raced.“You’re so cocky,” you whispered, reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

The words barely left your mouth before you pulled him down into another kiss, slow and sweet for half a second before it turned filthy again. Dean groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest as his hips rocked against you, his bare cock sliding against the thin, damp fabric of your leotard.“Love you too, my perfect little ballerina,” he rasped between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip. “So fucking much it’s ridiculous.”

His hands gripped your thighs, already starting to push them wider, testing that flexibility he was obsessed with.

You smirked up at him, that playful challenge sparkling in your eyes. Without a word, you hooked your hands behind your thighs and slowly opened your legs all the way into a perfect split right there on the backseat feet pointing in opposite directions, the stretch pulling deliciously through your hips and hamstrings.

Dean’s breath caught hard.“Fuck… that’s my girl,” he growled, eyes glued to the way the leotard strained tight over your center. He didn’t wait. His fingers dug into the sheer tights and ripped them right at the crotch with a sharp tearing sound, exposing the damp black fabric of your leotard underneath. With one impatient tug, he hooked it to the side, baring your glistening pussy to the cool air of the car.

Dean groaned deep in his chest, leaning down until his face hovered right there. He inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering half-shut as he breathed you in.“Goddamn, baby… you smell so fucking good when you’re this wet for me,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Sweet and needy after all that dancing.”

He wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it a slow stroke before tapping the heavy head against your swollen clit—once, twice, three times—wet smacks that made your hips twitch and a soft whimper slip from your throat.“Shit,” he breathed, doing it again, rubbing the tip in tight little circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Look at you… all stretched open and dripping. You’re gonna take me so deep like this.”

His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you spread exactly where he wanted while he kept teasing your clit with lazy, filthy taps of his cock.

Dean’s eyes darkened with raw hunger as he watched you trembling in that full split. He gave your clit one last firm tap with the head of his cock before gripping both your thighs.“Not like that,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough. “I want you folded.”

He pushed your legs together, then slowly, powerfully, folded you in half. Your knees pressed toward your shoulders until the tips of your pointed toes brushed the sides of your head, your body bent in a deep, obscene stretch that only years of ballet made possible. The position left your pussy completely exposed and tilted up for him, slick and glistening.“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, lining himself up. “So goddamn flexible for me.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean thrust forward in one smooth, hard stroke—burying every thick inch of his cock deep inside you in a single motion.

A sharp cry escaped your lips at the sudden, overwhelming stretch. He bottomed out completely, hips flush against your ass, filling you so full you could feel him pulsing against your walls.“Shit—baby,” Dean hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut for a second as your tight heat clamped around him. “So fucking wet… so deep like this.”

He stayed buried for a moment, letting you adjust, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to keep you locked in that folded position. Then he opened his eyes, staring straight down at you with pure lust and adoration.“You okay?” he rasped, voice softer for half a second even as his cock twitched inside you. “Tell me you can take it, ballerina.”

You reached up, fingers tangling in his hair, and yanked him down into a messy, desperate kiss. Your lips moved against his with pure need, tongues sliding hot and urgent as you breathed into his mouth.

“Move, Dean,” you whispered against his lips, voice shaky but demanding. “Please—fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean growled low in his throat and pulled back just enough to slam into you again, hard. His pace turned feral instantly—deep, punishing thrusts that drove his cock into you over and over, the folded position letting him hit so deep it stole your breath every single time. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the car, wet and filthy, mixed with your broken moans and his rough grunts.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you as he railed you. “Taking me so fucking good, baby. Look at you… all bent up and creaming on my cock.”

His hips snapped faster, wild and relentless, the car rocking slightly with every brutal thrust. One of his hands kept your legs pinned high against your shoulders, the other braced beside your head as he fucked you like he’d been dying to all night. Sweat slicked both your bodies, your leotard twisted and ruined, tights torn open.

You could barely think—only feel the way he stretched you open so perfectly, the drag of his thick cock hitting that spot inside you again and again until your eyes rolled back.

“Shit, I love you like this,” he groaned, kissing you hard between thrusts, never slowing down. “My flexible little ballerina… gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

You both moved together in a frantic rhythm, the car filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping wetly against skin. Dean fucked you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping hard enough to make your whole body jolt with every thrust. You met him as best you could in that folded position, rolling your hips up to take him even deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

It felt too good.

“Oh my god—Dean!” you cried out, voice breaking into a loud, shameless moan that was almost a scream. You couldn’t hold it back. Every brutal drag of his thick cock against that perfect spot inside you made your vision blur and your toes curl near your ears. “Fuck—right there, baby! It’s so deep—ahh!”

Dean groaned loudly, the sound raw and wrecked as he drove into you even harder, sweat dripping down his chest onto yours.“That’s it, baby—let me hear you,” he rasped, voice hoarse with lust. “Scream for me. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight… such a good little ballerina taking every inch.”

Your head fell back against the seat, mouth open as another loud cry tore from your throat. The pleasure was overwhelming, building fast and sharp, your pussy clenching around him with every wild thrust. You were almost screaming now, moans turning high and desperate as he pounded into you relentlessly, the folded position making everything feel impossibly intense. “Dean—fuck—I’m gonna—!” you gasped, voice cracking, legs trembling in his iron grip.

He leaned down and kissed you messily, swallowing some of your cries while still fucking you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else.

Your walls clenched around him so tightly it was almost painful, the pleasure coiling sharper and hotter with every wild thrust. Dean’s rhythm started to falter, his hips slamming into you harder, deeper, losing all control as he chased the edge right along with you.

“Fuck—baby, I’m so close,” he growled against your mouth, voice wrecked. “Come with me. Want to feel you milking my cock when I fill you up.”

You could only nod frantically, nails raking down his back as another broken scream tore from your throat.

“Dean—yes—oh god, I’m—!”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body seized up, legs shaking violently in his grip as you came hard around his cock, pussy pulsing and gushing wetly with every brutal snap of his hips. The pleasure ripped through you so intensely your vision whited out and you screamed his name, loud and shameless.

Dean cursed loudly, burying himself to the hilt one last time as he came right with you. His cock throbbed hard inside your spasming heat, pumping thick ropes of cum deep into you while he groaned your name like a prayer, hips grinding against your ass as he rode out every last pulse.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the car were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the leather seats.

Dean slowly lowered your legs, careful even in his post-orgasm haze, and collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as you both trembled through the aftershocks.“Jesus Christ, baby…” he murmured against your sweaty skin, voice soft and hoarse. “You’re fucking perfect. I love you so much.”

You let out a weak, breathless laugh and hugged him back, fingers threading gently through his damp hair.“I love you too,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Even when you’re crazy and fold me like a pretzel in your car.”

Dean chuckled, the sound warm and tired, and nuzzled closer, still buried inside you. “Best damn pretzel I’ve ever had. Now let’s get you home so I can do it again properly… and take care of my ballerina.”

[alcapzr]

Can you Pleaseeeee do a billie eilish fanfic ??pleaseee(obviously wlw)

And like a toppy dommy billie plessee

(Wait im sorry idk if u even do wf u dont do wlw's )

𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑨𝒕 𝑴𝒆 ꨄ︎ (Billie Eilish X FemReader)

Content: Mirror Sex, Pound Confidence In You, Praises, Strap On Use, Ass Slapping

You sat on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, staring at your reflection in the large floor-length mirror across the room. The soft golden light from the bedside lamp did nothing to soften what you saw. Your eyes traced every flaw you’d been picking at for the last twenty minutes: the way your stomach folded when you slouched even slightly, the stretch marks that caught the light on your hips, the uneven tone on your thighs, the tiredness under your eyes that no amount of concealer seemed to fix tonight.

Billie was late again. She’d texted that she was on her way home from the studio, exhausted but desperate to see you. You knew she was tired—mentally and physically drained from long hours and constant pressure—but you still wanted to look perfect for her. Instead, you felt… wrong. Heavy. Unworthy.

You tilted your head, frowning deeper as you pulled at the hem of your oversized t-shirt, trying to hide the parts you hated most. “Why can’t I just look like the girls she’s surrounded by?” you whispered to your reflection, voice thick with frustration. Your fingers traced a scar on your knee, then moved up to pinch the softness of your waist. Every touch made you shrink a little more inside.

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside the windows. You waited, heart beating unevenly, caught between wanting her to walk through the door and almost hoping she’d be too tired to notice how you looked tonight.

You sighed, eyes locked on the mirror, hating the girl staring back at you.

The sound of the front door opening and closing made your stomach flip. Heavy footsteps, the soft thud of Billie dropping her bag on the floor, and then her voice—low, raspy, and tired—echoed down the hallway.

“Babe? I’m home.”

Before you could even answer, she appeared in the doorway, still wearing her oversized black hoodie and baggy pants, hair messy from the long day. The second her eyes landed on you sitting there in front of the mirror, something shifted in her expression. She crossed the room in a few quick strides, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you hard.

It wasn’t a soft hello. Billie devoured your mouth like she’d been starving for you all day—tongue sliding against yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip, a low hungry sound vibrating in her throat. She tasted like mint gum and exhaustion, but the kiss was pure need. When she finally pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead rested against yours, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she murmured, voice rough. Her blue eyes searched yours carefully. “You look like you’ve been sitting here overthinking again.”

You tried to look away, but she gently turned your face back to her. Your lips trembled into a sad little pout, eyes glassy as the words slipped out quiet and broken.“…I’m not pretty.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. Billie’s brows furrowed, confusion and something darker flickering across her face.

She pulled back slightly, staring at you like you had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. Her eyebrows shot up and a sharp, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her lips.“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

She shook her head, eyes narrowing with that intense mix of love and frustration she got whenever you talked down on yourself. Her hands slid down to grip your waist, fingers digging in possessively as she forced you to keep looking at her.“Baby… you’re the most beautiful woman in the fucking universe,” she said, voice low and rough, almost angry in how serious she was. “I’m not even joking. I would literally rip my own eyes out and give them to you just so you could see what I see every time I look at you.”

You tried to protest, lips still pouted, but Billie didn’t let you. She kissed you again, harder this time, biting your lower lip before pulling back just enough to speak against your mouth.“I’m so fucking tired of you sitting here picking yourself apart like this. You think I don’t see you? I see every inch of you and I want it. All of it.”

Her hands moved up under your oversized t-shirt, palms warm against your skin as she stared straight into your eyes, daring you to argue.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes still watery as you looked at her through the mirror’s reflection.“You only say that because I’m your girlfriend…”

The words barely left your mouth before Billie let out a soft, dark chuckle against your skin. She shook her head, clearly not having it.“Exactly,” she murmured, voice dropping lower, “because I’m the only one who’s seen every single corner of your body. Every inch. Every mark. Every soft place you hate.”

Without another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to your neck, kissing slowly at first, then sucking harder, open-mouthed and wet. Her tongue traced along your pulse point as her hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you back against her chest.

You shivered when she bit down gently, then soothed the spot with her tongue. Her breath was hot against your skin as she whispered between kisses:

“And I still can’t get enough of you… fuck, I never can.”

Her mouth moved lower, sucking a mark just below your collarbone while her fingers slipped further under your shirt, brushing over the parts of you that made you want to hide.

“I’m gonna show you tonight,” she murmured hotly against your skin, voice thick with promise. “Gonna fuck every single doubt out of this pretty head until you believe me.”

Billie’s hands gripped your hips firmly as she stood up, pulling you with her. She turned you around so you were facing the large mirror, your back pressed against her chest. Her chin rested on your shoulder, those sharp blue eyes locked on your reflection as she held you there. “Look at yourself,” she whispered, voice low and commanding.

You tried to look down, but her fingers caught your chin gently, forcing your gaze back up.

“Can I?” she asked softly, her breath warm against your ear. Her fingers hovered at the thin straps of your dress, waiting for permission even though her eyes were already dark with hunger.

You gave the smallest nod.

Billie smiled against your neck and slowly agonizingly slowly slid the straps down your shoulders. The fabric slipped inch by inch, revealing more of your skin to the mirror. She watched every new exposed inch with pure reverence, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your bare shoulder as the dress pooled lower and lower.

“Fuck… look at you,” she breathed, eyes never leaving the reflection. “So fucking beautiful and you don’t even know it.”

Billie didn’t waste any more time. With a slow, deliberate tug, she pulled the dress all the way down your body until it pooled at your feet. You stood there in nothing but your delicate black lace underwear, the soft fabric barely covering anything. Your arms instinctively moved to cover yourself, but Billie caught your wrists gently and placed them back at your sides.

She wrapped her arms around you from behind, strong hands settling possessively on your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh as she pulled your back flush against her chest.

“Look,” she ordered softly, her voice husky against your ear. “Look at what I see.”

Her hands slowly roamed over your body as she spoke, eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror.“I see these perfect tits,” she murmured, cupping them through the lace, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened. “So fucking full and soft… made for my hands, for my mouth.”

Her right hand slid down, tracing your stomach.“And this? This is where I wanna bury my face when I’m on my knees for you. All these curves… these hips I love gripping while I fuck you.” Her fingers squeezed your hips hard, pulling you back against her. “And these thighs… fuck, baby. I want them wrapped around my head every night.”She pressed a hot kiss to the side of your neck, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.“You’re not just pretty. You’re fucking sinful. And you’re all mine.” Billie’s hands stayed on your hips as she stepped back just enough to shove her own baggy pants down her legs. She kicked them aside, leaving her in just a black hoodie and a pair of simple gray panties that were visibly soaked through. The dark wet patch was obvious in the mirror.

“You feel that?” she whispered hotly, pressing her hips forward so you could feel the warmth of her against your ass. “Look how fucking wet I am for you, baby.”

She took your hand and guided it back between her thighs. Your fingers brushed over the drenched fabric and she let out a shaky breath.“All this mess… it’s only for you. Every time I look at you, every time I think about you, I get like this. Soaked. Aching.”

Billie kissed your shoulder, then stepped away for a moment. She walked to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out the thick black strap-on she knew you both loved. She held it up, letting you see it in the reflection, her eyes dark with lust.“I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror until the only thing you can see is how fucking perfect you look when I’m inside you.”

She started putting the harness on slowly, never breaking eye contact with your reflection.

Billie finished securing the thick strap around her hips, the realistic black dildo now jutting out obscenely. She stepped behind you again, eyes locked on your reflection with pure hunger. Her hands returned to your waist, pulling your ass back against her. She gripped the base of the strap and slowly dragged the thick head between your cheeks, rubbing it up and down teasingly over your lace-covered pussy and ass. The pressure was firm, hot, and deliberate. You could feel how hard and ready it was.

“Mmm… feel that, baby?” she purred against your ear, voice low and filthy. “That’s how bad I want you.”

She kept sliding the dildo between your cheeks, pressing just enough to make you squirm but never giving you what you craved. Every slow thrust of her hips made the silicone drag deliciously against your soaked panties.

“I’m not putting it in until you say it,” she said firmly, nipping at your earlobe. “Until you look at yourself in that mirror and tell me you’re beautiful. Say it, baby. Tell me how fucking gorgeous you are while I rub this cock against your pretty little ass.”

Her hand slid around to press two fingers against your clit through the lace, rubbing slow circles as she continued teasing you with the strap.“I can wait all night… but I know you’re dripping for it.”

You were trembling, thighs pressed together, breathing hard as Billie kept teasing you with the thick head of the strap rubbing between your cheeks. The pressure on your clit from her fingers was driving you insane.

Finally, in a shaky, needy voice, you looked at your reflection and whispered,“I’m… I’m beautiful.”

Billie’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. She pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck and growled against your skin,“Good girl.”

She hooked two fingers into the crotch of your soaked lace panties and pulled them roughly to the side, exposing your dripping pussy. The cool air hit your wet folds for only a second before you felt the blunt, thick head of the strap pressing against your entrance.

Billie held your waist tightly with one hand and slowly — inch by inch — pushed inside you. The stretch was delicious and overwhelming. She watched your face in the mirror the entire time, lips parted, breathing ragged.

“Fuck… look at you taking me so well,” she groaned, voice thick with lust. “So tight and wet for me, baby. That’s my beautiful girl.”

She bottomed out slowly, hips flush against your ass, and stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every inch buried deep inside while her free hand came around to rub your clit in slow, firm circles.

The feeling of Billie buried deep inside you made your head spin. You moaned softly and instinctively tried to turn your head to kiss her, desperate for her mouth.

But Billie’s hand quickly moved to your jaw, gently but firmly holding your face forward toward the mirror.“No, baby,” she rasped against your ear, voice low and commanding. “Don’t look away. Watch the mirror. Watch how fucking gorgeous you look getting fucked.”

She rolled her hips slowly, pulling out just a little before sliding back in deep, making sure you felt every thick inch. Her eyes stayed locked on your reflection.“Look at your face… those pretty lips parted, eyes all glassy for me. Look how your tits bounce every time I push inside you. So fucking perfect.”

Her hand slid down to grip your hip harder as she started thrusting a little faster, deep and deliberate.“You’re gonna watch yourself come on my cock like the beautiful girl you are,” she growled, biting down gently on your shoulder. “Eyes on the mirror the whole time, baby. I want you to see exactly what I see.”

Billie tightened her grip on your hips and started moving faster. Her thrusts grew deeper, harder, setting a steady, punishing rhythm that had the thick strap dragging perfectly against every sensitive spot inside you. The wet, filthy sound of her hips slapping against your ass filled the room.

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back as a broken moan tore from your throat.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Billie growled, one hand sliding up to grab your jaw again, forcing your gaze forward. “Don’t you dare look away.”

She leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as she pounded into you harder.“I’m gonna pound some fucking confidence into this pretty pussy until you believe how beautiful you are,” she rasped, voice rough and filthy. “Every thrust… every time this cock hits deep inside you… you’re gonna remember you’re mine and you’re fucking perfect.”

Her pace became relentless — deep, powerful strokes that made your legs shake and your tits bounce in the reflection. Billie’s eyes were dark, locked on your face in the mirror, watching every expression of pleasure she pulled from you.

“That’s it, baby… look at yourself getting fucked so good. So goddamn beautiful when you fall apart for me.” Billie’s hips snapped forward harder and faster, the strap driving deep into you with every thrust. The pace was brutal and perfect, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing louder in the room. Her fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks as she fucked you relentlessly in front of the mirror.“You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” she panted against your neck, voice wrecked. “I can feel you squeezing my cock. So fucking tight.”

Your legs were shaking, eyes half-lidded but forced to stay on your reflection — flushed cheeks, parted lips, tits bouncing with every powerful thrust. The pleasure was overwhelming.

Billie reached around and rubbed your swollen clit in fast, tight circles.

“Come for me,” she growled. “Come while you watch how beautiful you look falling apart on my cock.”

The orgasm hit you like a wave. Your whole body tensed, eyes rolling back as you cried out, clenching hard around the strap. Billie didn’t stop, fucking you through it with deep, messy thrusts until you were whimpering and trembling in her arms.

Only then did she slow down, wrapping both arms around your waist and holding you tight against her as you came down. She kissed your shoulder, your neck, your cheek — soft and loving now.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered tenderly, still buried inside you. “My beautiful girl. Don’t ever forget it.” She carefully pulled out, turned you around, and pulled you into her chest, kissing you slow and deep while her hands stroked your back soothingly.

“I love every single part of you,” she murmured against your lips. “And I’m never gonna stop reminding you.”

[alcapzr]

Hiii can you send more cole requests please I'm running low for the marathons

[alcapzr]

Ghostface! Dylan Minnette x reader smut

𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝑾𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 ꨄ︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)

Content: Smut, Literally Ghostface Dylan, Yearner Dylan, There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do For You, Sondrack Is I'm Your Man By Leonard Cohen, Oral Fem Receiving, Blood Stained Flowers, Homicide Confession,

You checked the clock on the kitchen wall for the third time, the savory aroma of the roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes slowly losing its warmth under the foil. The table looked perfect candles flickering, two plates set with care, a bottle of wine breathing. You had spent the afternoon making everything just right for him. Your fingers flew across your phone screen, typing quickly.

> YOU: “Hey baby, it’s getting late. Dinner’s ready and starting to get cold. Everything okay? Miss you.”

You hit send and set the phone down, leaning against the counter with a small sigh. Dylan had promised he’d be home on time tonight. No shows, no rehearsals—just the two of you.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit alley a few blocks away, Dylan yanked the Ghostface mask off his face, breathing hard. The body slumped against the brick wall, the man who had been following you for weeks, catcalling and grabbing at you on the street, now stared blankly at nothing. Dylan’s gloved hand still gripped the bloody knife. He stared down at it, chest tight.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and rough. “Shit, shit, shit.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with his clean hand, reading your message. The guilt hit him like a truck. You had cooked for him. You had been waiting. And here he was, covered in someone else’s blood, mask in one hand, knife still warm in the other.

He crouched down quickly, wiping the blade on the dead man’s jacket, mind racing. He still had to clean the scene properly prints, evidence, everything but all he could think about was you waiting at home, the food getting cold, that worried little tone you got when he ran late.

Dylan shoved the mask and knife into the black duffel at his feet, already pulling out cleaning supplies with practiced efficiency. His hands moved fast, but his stomach twisted.

“I’m coming, baby,” he whispered to himself, voice thick. “Just… fuck, give me a minute.”

He worked as quickly as he could, heart pounding harder at the thought of your face when he finally walked through the door.

Dylan finished wiping down the scene with swift, methodical movements, stuffing the bloody rags and gloves into the duffel bag. He didn’t feel an ounce of regret for the man lying dead in the alley the bastard had been harassing you for weeks, making you glance over your shoulder every time you left the house. That piece of shit didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. But the guilt gnawing at his chest was real: he had promised you a quiet night, and now he was late as hell.

He zipped the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and pulled his hood up as he slipped out of the alley. The streets were quiet this time of night. A few blocks down, the warm glow of a small flower shop caught his eye. It was still open. Perfect.

Dylan stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly. The florist, an older woman, smiled at him. “Last minute bouquet?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and charming despite the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. “White lilies. She loves those.”

He paid in cash, keeping his hands mostly hidden. As he took the bouquet, a smear of blood from the edge of his sleeve transferred onto one of the pristine white petals. Dylan paused for half a second, staring at the crimson streak against the delicate flower. A slow, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Good, he thought. The real gift wasn’t the flowers. It was the fact that you could walk these streets without that creep breathing down your neck ever again. The blood on the lily felt like a low-key trophy, a secret reminder of what he’d done for you. The sight sent a twisted little thrill straight through him, heat pooling low in his gut. He adjusted the bouquet carefully and headed out, walking faster toward home.

His phone buzzed again with another message from you, and the guilt twisted tighter in his chest even as that dark arousal lingered. He was going to make this up to you. On his knees if he had to.

The key turned in the lock and Dylan stepped inside, the scent of blood and leather still clinging faintly to him beneath the cologne he’d quickly sprayed on in the car. He held the bouquet of white lilies in one hand, the crimson smear on the petals hidden slightly behind the others. You were waiting in the hallway, arms crossed loosely, looking beautiful in that soft dress you’d picked out for the night.

Before he could even speak, you closed the distance and kissed him—warm, relieved, and a little frustrated. Dylan melted into it instantly, his free hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer, kissing you like he’d been gone for days instead of a few hours.

When you pulled back, you searched his face. “Baby, why didn’t you text me that your boxing class was running late? I was starting to worry. The food’s been sitting for almost an hour.”

Dylan’s expression softened with genuine guilt. He wasn’t sorry about the kill, but seeing the concern in your eyes hit him hard. He lifted your hand gently, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles with slow reverence.“I’m sorry, love,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and rough. “Class ran over and my phone died. I should’ve figured something out. I hate making you wait like this.”

As he kissed your hand, your fingers brushed over his. That’s when you felt them raw, split skin on his knuckles, fresh bruises already forming. You frowned, turning his hand over in yours to inspect the wounds under the hallway light.

“Dylan… what happened to your hands?” you asked, thumb gently tracing near a cut. They didn’t look like normal boxing scrapes. Something was off.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he gave you that crooked, charming smirk that always made your stomach flip, eyes dark and intense as he watched your reaction. Dylan shrugged like it was nothing, flashing you that easy, boyish smile that usually got him out of trouble. “Just some rough sparring tonight. You know how it gets. I’m fine, baby. Promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your temple, trying to smooth over the worry in your eyes.

He moved past you into the apartment, setting the lilies down on the side table a little too quickly. “Let me just drop my bag and I’ll help you warm everything up—”

As he swung the duffel onto the couch, the zipper caught and the bag tipped open. Something black and white spilled out onto the floor with a soft thud.

The Ghostface mask.

You bent down before he could stop you, picking it up. The plastic was cool under your fingers, the black fabric hood attached. A slow, surprised smile curved your lips as you turned it over. It looked… surprisingly high quality. Spicy. The idea that Dylan had gone to a sex shop and bought this without telling you sent a little thrill down your spine. You glanced up at him, biting your lip.

“Baby… you bought this for us?” Your voice dropped, playful and intrigued. “Didn’t know you were into roleplay like this. You're so so kinky Minnette”

Dylan froze for half a second, eyes darkening as he watched you holding the mask—the same one he’d worn barely an hour ago while ending a man’s life for you. The sight of your fingers on it, that curious little smile, made heat flood through him again. The blood on the lily, the kill, your safety… it all twisted together in a filthy, confidence rush.

He stepped closer, voice low and rough. “Baby… I have to tell you something.” Dylan’s jaw tightened. He looked at you holding the mask, then down at his bruised knuckles, the faint smear of blood still visible on his sleeve. There was no point in lying. Not to you. Not about this. He stepped forward, took the mask gently from your hands, and set it aside. Then, without a word, he dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the living room, looking up at you with those intense blue eyes. “Baby… I didn’t go to boxing,” he said, voice low and steady. “That guy who’s been stalking you, the one who grabbed you last week? I followed him tonight. I made sure he’ll never come near you again. I killed him.”

Your breath caught.

Dylan reached up and took both your hands in his, thumbs stroking over your skin even as his own knuckles were raw. “I did it for you. So you could walk down the street without looking over your shoulder. So I could sleep at night knowing no one was ever going to lay a hand on you. I was scared he’d hurt you… and I couldn’t let that happen.” He pressed his forehead against your hands, voice dropping into something raw and desperate. “I’m sorry I was late. Sorry I made you wait with the dinner you made for me. I’ll never do that to you again. But I’d do it all over if it meant keeping you safe.”

The confession hung heavy in the air the blood on the flowers, the mask, his bruised hands, him on his knees begging for your understanding. It should have terrified you. Instead, something deep and warm bloomed in your chest.

The way he said it, the fierce devotion in his eyes… it felt like a proposal. Like he was pledging his soul to you in the most twisted, romantic way possible.

“Oh fuck, Dylan…” you whispered, heart racing. It was insane. It was wrong. And somehow, it was one of the most romantic things anyone had ever done for you.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, gripping the hem of your dress as he leaned in and started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your legs—first one knee, then higher up your thigh, then the other, like he was worshipping you.

“I know it’s fucked up,” he murmured against your skin between kisses, voice thick with emotion. “If it’s too much… if you want me to go, I’ll understand. I’ll walk out right now. Just say the word, baby. I’m so fucking sorry I worried you tonight.”

You stared down at him powerful, dangerous Dylan Minnette on his knees for you, lips brushing your thighs, blood still faintly visible on his hands. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. This man had killed for you. Not out of rage, but out of love and fear for your safety. It was dark. It was terrifying. And it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him there gently. “Dylan… that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” you whispered, voice shaking with a mix of awe and heat.

He looked up at you, eyes darkening with relief and something much hungrier. His hands slid higher under your dress, gripping your thighs possessively as he kissed the sensitive skin just below the hem.“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love,” he said, the words rough and sincere against your leg. “Nothing.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across your lips as you looked down at him. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulse racing with a sudden, filthy thrill.“Put it on,” you whispered, voice dropping into something low and needy. “I want to see you in the mask, Dylan. I want you to wear it for me.”

Dylan’s breath hitched. For a second his eyes flashed with dark surprise, then pure lust. He reached for the Ghostface mask without hesitation, sliding it over his head. The white face and black hood settled into place, transforming him into something dangerous and unbearably hot.

You reached down and adjusted it carefully, tilting the mask so the bottom part lifted just enough to expose his mouth and jaw. Those perfect lips stayed visible soft, slightly parted, still glistening from kissing your thighs.

“Better,” you murmured, thumb brushing over his lower lip. “I want to see that mouth while you’re wearing it.”

Dylan let out a low, rough groan against your thumb, the sound muffled slightly by the mask. His hands gripped your thighs harder, sliding higher under your dress as he looked up at you through the mask’s eye holes, that familiar intense gaze now framed by Ghostface. “Fuck, baby…” he breathed, lips brushing your skin again, voice distorted and deliciously dark. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything.” He leaned in and started kissing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs—slow, open-mouthed kisses that grew wetter and hungrier with every inch he moved closer to your center.

He paused when he reached the apex of your thighs, nose brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest as he inhaled you like a man starved.“Fuck… you smell so good,” he muttered, voice rough and distorted through the mask. He pressed his face harder against your clothed pussy, breathing you in deeply, almost desperately. “So fucking wet already, baby. This pussy’s dripping for me… for the man who killed for you.”

He sounded drunk on it—sick with lust—nuzzling and sniffing your panties like he couldn’t get enough of your scent. His tongue darted out, licking a slow, filthy stripe over the soaked fabric, tasting you through it while his hands gripped your ass, pulling you even closer to his masked face.

You felt his hot breath, the press of his lips, the way he groaned and inhaled again like your smell was the only thing keeping him sane.“God, I’m addicted to this cunt,” he growled against you, voice thick with need. “Tell me I can take these off. Please, baby.”

Your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, heart pounding as you looked down at the Ghostface mask and those hungry lips beneath it.“Do whatever you want with me,” you breathed, voice shaky with arousal. “I’m not scared of you, Dylan. Not like this. Take what you need.”

A low, feral sound escaped him. “Good girl.”

Dylan hooked his teeth into the waistband of your panties. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged them down your thighs using only his mouth, the mask brushing against your skin the whole way. The fabric caught slightly on your wet folds before sliding down, leaving a trail of his spit and your own slickness on your legs. He pulled them all the way to your ankles, letting you step out of them while his hands caressed your bare thighs.

The second your pussy was fully exposed, Dylan buried his face between your legs with a hungry groan. His tongue licked a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you properly now. He sucked your clit into his mouth, lips working you with filthy, wet sounds as he devoured you like a man possessed.

“Fuck, this pussy is mine,” he growled against your folds, voice dark and muffled by the mask. “Gonna eat it until you’re shaking, then I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow.” He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them perfectly while his tongue kept working your clit, eyes locked on yours through the mask the entire time.

Dylan lost control.

He started eating your pussy like a man dying of hunger messy, desperate, and completely feral. His tongue licked broad and deep through your folds, plunging inside you before dragging back up to your clit. He sucked, slurped, and groaned loudly into your cunt, the sounds wet and obscene as he devoured every drop of your arousal.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” he rasped against your dripping folds, voice thick and distorted by the mask.

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out of your pussy—slick and shiny with your juices—and slowly pressed one against your tight asshole. He circled the rim teasingly for a moment before pushing in, slow and careful, stretching you open with that same finger that had just been buried deep in your cunt.

You gasped sharply as the second finger followed, both sliding into your ass inch by inch while his mouth never stopped working your pussy. He sucked your clit hard again, tongue flicking mercilessly as he started pumping his fingers in and out of your ass in a slow, filthy rhythm.

The dual sensation—his hungry mouth devouring your cunt and his fingers stretching and fucking your ass—made your knees buckle. You grabbed onto his shoulders, grinding harder against his masked face, moaning loudly as he ate you like he wanted to drown in you.

Dylan looked up at you through the mask, eyes burning with lust, lips and chin soaked with your slick. He curled his fingers inside your ass and sucked your clit even harder, determined to make you fall apart.

“Look at you… such a good fucking girl,” he praised, voice low and rough, eyes locked on yours through the mask. “Taking my fingers in your tight little ass while you grind on my face like a desperate slut. So fucking perfect for me.”

He dove back in, sucking your clit hard again while his fingers continued their slow, deep thrusts in your ass. Between long, hungry licks he kept talking, the praise filthy and worshipful.“That’s my baby… dripping all over my tongue. You taste so sweet when you’re this wet. My pretty girl letting her killer boyfriend eat this pussy like it’s his last meal. Fuck, I’d kill for this cunt every single day.”

He curled his fingers deeper inside your ass, pressing against that sensitive spot while his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit.“You’re doing so good, baby. Riding my face like you own it. Gonna make you cum all over my mouth and then fuck you until you can’t walk straight. You deserve it… my brave, beautiful girl. Taking everything I give you.”

His words, combined with the relentless assault of his mouth and fingers, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Dylan groaned loudly against your pussy, clearly loving every second of it.

Your thighs started shaking uncontrollably around his head. The pressure was building fast—too fast—coiling tight in your belly as Dylan’s mouth and fingers worked you mercilessly.

He felt it immediately. The way your pussy fluttered and clenched around nothing, how your asshole tightened around his fingers, how your hips lost their rhythm and became desperate.

Dylan pulled his mouth back just enough to speak, lips brushing your clit with every word, fingers still pumping steadily in your ass.“That’s it, baby… I can feel you. You’re so close,” he growled, voice dark and reassuring. “Let go for me. Cum all over my face. I’ve got you.”

He latched onto your clit again, sucking hard and fast while his fingers curled deep inside your ass.“Come on, my love,” he murmured between sucks, the praise thick and tender. “Let it go. I’ll always take care of you. Always protect you. Always make you feel this good. Cum for me, baby. Now.”

The combination of his filthy mouth, the relentless suction, and those reassuring words sent you crashing over the edge.

You came hard, crying out his name as your whole body tensed and shook. Your pussy gushed against his tongue while your ass clenched rhythmically around his fingers. Dylan moaned loudly into your cunt, drinking every drop like he was starving, refusing to let up until you were a trembling, whimpering mess above him.

Your legs gave out completely as the orgasm ripped through you. You trembled violently, thighs shaking, breath coming in broken sobs of pleasure. Dylan kept his mouth on you through every pulse, licking you gently now, savoring the way you fell apart for him.

When the last wave finally subsided, he slowly pulled his fingers out of your ass and rose to his feet. He yanked the Ghostface mask off, tossing it aside, and revealed his flushed face—hair messy, lips swollen and glistening with your cum, eyes wild with lust and love.

Without a word, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you deeply. It was passionate, hungry, and surprisingly tender. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he groaned into your mouth, pressing his hard body against yours.“You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum,” he whispered against your lips between kisses. “My perfect girl.”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you steady as your legs continued to tremble. One hand slid down to squeeze your ass while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head so he could kiss you even deeper. “I love you,” he murmured hotly. “So fucking much.”

“Will you keep being Ghostface?” you asked softly, searching his eyes.

Dylan stroked your cheek with his thumb, honest and open. “Not if you tell me to stop. I’d hang the mask up forever if that’s what you want, baby.”

You shook your head slowly, a dark little smile forming on your lips.

“You can do whatever you want,” you whispered. “Just promise me two things. First… we’re going to fuck with that mask on. A lot. And second… I’m always your accomplice. Everything you do… it’s for me.”

Dylan’s eyes darkened with raw possession and love. He took your hand gently and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles with reverent softness.“I promise,” he murmured against your skin. “I’d burn this entire fucking city down if you asked me to, my love.”

[alcapzr]

Dylan Minnette x reader clingy bath smut after a hard day at work

𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝑰𝒕 ꨄ︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)

Content: Smut, Love Making, Yep Is That Song, Unprotected Sex, Praises, Slow Sex, Dylan Talking Trough It, I Had A Kinktober DejaVu, Cute Boyfriend, Silly Sexy Little Dance, Strip Tease

A/N: I had a request related to this song but I couldn't fucking find it AAAAAh 😭

You pushed open the door to your apartment with the last bit of energy you had left, shoulders slumped and your bag slipping down your arm. The day had been brutal—long hours, too many people, and zero breaks. All you wanted was to disappear into hot water and forget the world existed.

Dylan looked up from the couch the second you stepped inside. He was in one of his old band tees and sweatpants, hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it while working on music. His expression softened immediately when he saw how wrecked you looked.

“Hey, baby,” he said, voice low and warm as he stood up. “Rough one?”

You nodded, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to be in the tub for a while… just need to soak.”

You headed straight for the bathroom without waiting for a reply, already peeling off your jacket. The words hung in the air between you, simple and innocent on the surface. But you both knew Dylan. He always caught the smallest shift in your tone, the way your eyes lingered on him just a second longer even when you were dead on your feet.

He stayed in the living room for a moment, listening to the sound of the faucet turning on and the water rushing into the tub. A slow, crooked smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head.

Information… or invitation?

You closed the bathroom door behind you, the sound of running water already filling the small space with steam. First, you killed the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the candles you kept on the shelf. You lit three of them—lavender, sandalwood, and something sweet and warm—watching the flames flicker and dance across the tiles. Then you poured a generous handful of bath salts into the tub, the scent blooming as the hot water dissolved them.

Satisfied with the setup, you stripped slowly, letting your clothes pool on the floor. Your body ached, muscles tight and skin still buzzing from the long day. Naked, you stepped toward the tub, but paused.

A quiet, needy thought crossed your mind. You really needed to cum. The kind of release that would melt the tension out of you. Biting your lip, you glanced at the door, cheeks warming with a mix of embarrassment and want. Asking Dylan felt… vulnerable tonight. You were too tired to put it into words, too shy to say it out loud even though you knew he’d give you anything.

Instead, you quietly opened the small drawer under the sink and took out your vibrator—the discreet pink one you kept for moments like this. You slipped it into the tub with the rest of your things, heart beating a little faster.

The water was perfect when you finally sank in, hot and fragrant, enveloping your tired body up to your chest. You let out a long, heavy sigh, eyes closing as the heat started working its magic. The water had just started to ease the knots in your shoulders when the bathroom door creaked open softly. Dylan stepped in holding a couple of fresh towels, his eyes adjusting to the low candlelight.

“I forgot to leave these for you earlier,” he said, voice casual, but it trailed off the moment he saw you.

You were reclining in the tub, skin glistening with water and bath salts, the candlelight painting soft gold across your bare shoulders and the tops of your breasts. Your vibrator was hidden just beneath the surface, but the rest of you was completely exposed to his gaze. Dylan’s eyes darkened instantly, that lazy smile turning into something hungrier.

“Fuck, baby… you look so damn beautiful right now,” he murmured, setting the towels on the counter without looking away. His voice had dropped lower, rougher around the edges.

You felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the hot water. Still, you gave him a little pout, lips pushed out in that way you knew drove him crazy, your tired eyes meeting his.

“Dyl…” you whispered, voice soft and needy. “Come kiss me.”

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the small space in two steps, crouching beside the tub. One large hand slid gently behind your neck as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that quickly turned heated. His tongue traced your bottom lip before slipping inside, tasting you like he’d been waiting for this all day.

When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, eyes half-lidded.

“My poor princess had a really bad day, didn’t she?” he murmured, voice soft but already thick with intent.

You only managed a small nod, too tired to say much more.

He smiled, slow and warm, then leaned in and started kissing your neck—slow, open-mouthed presses of his lips that quickly turned wetter, hotter. His fingers threaded through your damp hair, stroking it back from your face in soothing, possessive strokes while his mouth worked lower, sucking lightly at your pulse point.“I know exactly how to make it better,” he whispered against your skin, breath hot. “I’m gonna take care of everything tonight, baby. You don’t have to do a single thing. Just let me handle you… all of you.” His free hand slipped into the water, fingertips gliding slowly down your chest as he kept kissing and nipping at your neck, voice dropping even lower. Dylan pulled back just enough to look at you, that wicked little smirk playing on his lips. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, tapping the screen a couple of times. The smooth, sensual beat of "Earned It" by The Weeknd started filling the bathroom, low and slow, wrapping around the candlelit space like smoke.

“First things first,” he said, voice husky as he stood up straight. “You deserve a sexy little dance, baby.”

You watched, heart already picking up pace, as Dylan started moving to the rhythm. He was smooth about it confident but playful, eyes locked on yours the whole time. His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and he pulled it off slowly, revealing the familiar lines of his chest and stomach, muscles shifting under his skin as he rolled his hips to the beat.

He tossed the shirt aside and turned, giving you a teasing view of his back before facing you again. His hands slid down his own body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants as he pushed them lower, inch by inch, revealing the V-lines and the growing bulge straining against his boxers. The candlelight made every movement look sinful and beautiful at the same time.

“You like watching me strip for you?” he asked, voice low and rough over the music, stepping closer to the tub while still dancing. “Been thinking about this body all day, haven’t you?”

Dylan didn't break the eye contact as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down in one smooth motion. They pooled at his ankles and he kicked them away, standing completely naked in front of you. His cock sprang free—hard, thick, and flushed dark at the tip, curving slightly upward as it throbbed visibly under your stare.

He kept dancing for you, rolling his hips slow and dirty to the sultry beat of "Earned It," letting you drink in every inch of him. The candlelight caught on the smooth skin of his cock, highlighting the vein running along the underside and the way it swayed heavily with each movement.

You were practically drooling. Your lips parted, breath shallow, eyes locked on his dick like you couldn’t look anywhere else. Heat flooded your face and between your legs as you watched him—naked, confident, and so fucking hard for you. The sight of his cock, heavy and ready, made your mouth water and your pussy clench under the water.

Dylan chuckled low, the sound filthy and fond.“Look at you… fucking drooling over my cock like that,” he murmured, still grinding his hips to the music. “So damn pretty when you’re this needy, baby.”

He gave himself another slow stroke, base to tip, letting a bead of precum coat his thumb just to torment you more. Dylan leaned in and kissed you again, deeper this time, his mouth hot and demanding as he slowly climbed into the tub with you. The water rose and sloshed over the edges as his body settled between your spread legs. His skin was warm, his cock heavy and hard against your inner thigh, pressing insistently as he braced one hand on the rim of the tub and the other on your waist.

He kissed you like he’d been starving for it—tongue sliding against yours, slow and filthy, sucking on your bottom lip before diving back in. Steam curled around you both while The Weeknd’s voice kept pulsing low in the background.

Then his hand started wandering.

It glided down your slick body, over your breasts, your stomach, dipping beneath the water until his fingers brushed against the smooth silicone hidden there. He paused mid-kiss, pulled back slightly, and fished it out.

The pink vibrator emerged from the water, dripping. Dylan stared at it for a second, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise before a slow, filthy smirk spread across his face.

“Wow… what do we have here?” he murmured, voice low and rough with arousal. He turned the toy in his hand, thumb brushing over the buttons as water ran down his wrist. “You were really gonna fuck yourself with this tonight, baby? Couldn’t wait for my cock?”

His eyes met yours, dark and teasing, but still full of that warm, possessive affection. He didn’t look mad—he looked thrilled. Dylan settled deeper into the tub, back against the edge, water sloshing around his chest. With both hands on your hips, he pulled you forward and onto his lap so you were straddling him, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hard cock nestled hot and heavy between your bodies, pressed against your lower stomach.

“Wow… look at this cute little toy,” he murmured, voice low and filthy. He clicked it on and the soft buzz cut through the music. “Let’s see what this thing can really do.” Right in front of you, he started cycling through the intensities. The vibrator hummed gently at first, then grew stronger, pulsing in waves and patterns. Dylan tested each setting against his own palm, watching the way the vibrations made his hand tremble slightly while his gaze stayed locked on your face.“Fuck, baby,” he said with a low chuckle, clearly turned on. “You were gonna use this on your pretty pussy tonight? All by yourself?”

He increased the speed again, letting the buzz get louder and more intense, his smirk deepening as he saw how intently you were watching. Dylan’s smirk turned darker, more predatory, as he brought the buzzing vibrator closer to your body. He started with your left nipple, pressing the vibrating tip right against the sensitive peak and holding it there.

The sudden intense buzz made you jolt on his lap, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He circled it slowly, teasing the stiff bud until it throbbed under the vibrations.

“Fuck… look at that,” he murmured, voice thick. He moved the toy to your right nipple, giving it the same torturous attention—pressing, circling, occasionally flicking it lightly with the pulsing tip.

Your back arched, pushing your breasts closer to him as the sensations shot straight between your legs. Dylan watched your face the entire time, eyes hooded with lust while his free hand gripped your hip tighter, keeping you firmly seated on his lap. His hard cock twitched against your stomach with every little sound you made.“So sensitive for me tonight, princess,” he whispered hotly against your neck, alternating the vibrator between both nipples until they were tight and aching. “I could play with these pretty tits for hours.” Dylan turned off the vibrator and set it on the wide edge of the tub. With both hands on your hips, he pulled you even closer on his lap until his thick cock nestled right between your folds. He started sliding it slowly up and down, rubbing the hot, hard length against your slick pussy without pushing inside — just teasing.

The head bumped deliberately against your clit with every slow stroke, spreading your wetness all over him.“Mmm, that’s my good girl,” he whispered sweetly right against your ear, voice soft and loving even as his hips kept that filthy rhythm. “Feel how hard I am for you, baby? You’re so fucking wet… your pretty little pussy is dripping all over my cock.”

He kissed the side of your neck tenderly, then gently sucked on your earlobe while continuing those slow, teasing glides between your folds. Every pass made the head catch against your clit, sending sparks through your body.“You’ve had such a long day, princess,” he murmured affectionately, one hand stroking soothingly up and down your back. “Just relax and let me take care of you… I’m gonna make my sweet girl feel so fucking good.”

Dylan rocked his hips once more, sliding his cock between your folds, before he finally positioned the thick head right at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch, groaning softly into your mouth as he did.

At the same time, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you deeply tongue sliding against yours in wet, passionate strokes. The kiss was hungry and loving all at once, his tongue exploring your mouth as he sank deeper into your pussy, filling you completely in the warm water. When he bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside you, he stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every thick inch. His tongue kept dancing with yours, slow and filthy, tasting every little moan you made

“Fuck, baby… you feel so good,” he whispered against your lips between kisses, voice rough with pleasure. “So warm and tight around me… my perfect girl.” He started moving then slow, deep rolls of his hips, fucking you gently while never breaking the intense, tongue-filled kiss.

You both started moving together in a slow, deep rhythm — super sensual and passionate. Dylan rolled his hips up into you while you rocked gently on his lap, taking every inch of his thick cock in long, luxurious strokes. Water rippled softly around your bodies with every movement, the steam making everything feel even more intimate.

He reached for the vibrator again, clicked it on to a steady, medium intensity, and pressed the buzzing tip firmly against your clit. The strong vibrations hit you instantly, making your walls clench hard around him.

But because he was buried so deep inside you, Dylan felt it too — the buzzing traveling straight through your body and into his cock.

“Fuck… baby,” he groaned against your lips, voice rough and shaky with pleasure. “I can feel the vibration on my dick… shit, that feels so good.”

He kept the toy pressed right there on your clit while you both kept moving slow, passionate rolls of your hips, tongues tangled in deep, wet kisses. Every thrust pushed him against the vibrator and sent sparks through both of you at the same time.

The intense combination of Dylan’s thick cock stretching you and the strong, steady vibrations on your clit quickly pushed you right to the edge. Your moans grew louder, turning into desperate, filthy cries that echoed off the bathroom tiles.

“Dylan… fuck, I’m so close—” you gasped, voice breaking as your body started to tremble.

Dylan’s eyes darkened with pure lust. He gripped your hips harder and started thrusting up into you with more force deeper, rougher strokes that made the water splash violently over the edges of the tub. He kept the vibrator pressed firmly against your swollen clit, not letting up even a little.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled hotly against your ear, voice rough and filthy. “Cum for me like a good little slut. Let me hear you moan like crazy while you squeeze my cock.” He fucked you harder, passionate and relentless, slamming up into you while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against your clit. Your wild, broken moans filled the steamy room as you got closer and closer to the edge.

The pleasure became too much. Dylan’s deep, hard thrusts and the relentless buzzing of the vibrator against your clit sent you spiraling. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, violently intense. You cried out loudly, body shaking uncontrollably as your walls clenched and pulsed hard around his cock. Tears slipped down your cheeks from the overwhelming intensity, soft sobs mixing with your moans.

“Fuck— baby!” Dylan groaned, voice breaking. He buried himself as deep as possible and came right with you, pulsing thick and hot inside you as his own orgasm crashed through him. His hips stuttered, pressing up into you while he held you tight, both of you trembling and gasping together in the hot, messy water.

For a long moment the only sounds were your heavy breathing, the soft music still playing, and the gentle splash of water. Dylan finally turned off the vibrator and dropped it aside. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest and kissing the tears from your cheeks with surprising gentleness.

“Shh, I’ve got you, my sweet girl,” he whispered tenderly against your temple, still buried deep inside you. “That was so fucking intense… you’re incredible. I love you like this.” He held you close, stroking your back slowly as you both came down, the steam and candlelight wrapping around you like a warm cocoon.

You melted completely into Dylan’s lap, body limp and glowing as you rested your head on his shoulder. The hot water gently lapped around you both while you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

Dylan wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand slowly caressing your damp hair in long, soothing strokes. He pressed soft kisses to your temple and the side of your face, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

After a few quiet moments, he murmured gently against your ear, “You want me to pull out now, baby?”

You let out a soft, needy whine and shook your head, hugging him even tighter. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your legs squeezed around his waist, refusing to let him go.

Dylan let out a low, warm chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest.“Alright, my clingy little princess,” he whispered affectionately, hugging you closer and continuing to stroke your hair. “We’ll stay just like this for as long as you want. I’ve got you.”

[alcapzr]

Due to personal important reasons (I wanna give a whole week to him instead of the various marathon) can I get maybe some more Andrew DeLuca request please n Thankiu

[alcapzr]

Omg people I scheduled today fic wrong is already out 😦

[alcapzr]

Dylan Minnette x reader. Wallows release an album with lots of romantic music inspired by reader and reader didn't knew about Dylan's feelings

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 ♡︎ (Dylan Minnette X FemReader)

Content: Fluff, Couldn't Say Out Loud So I Wrote An Album, Listening Party, Braeden And Cole Cameo,Canada

You waved goodbye to the guys as you grabbed your bag from the couch in the corner of the studio. The session had run late, but it was the good kind of late full of laughter, half-finished takes, and the warm buzz of creativity still hanging in the air.

“Night, Braeden! Kill it with that new bridge tomorrow,” you called, smiling as he gave you a lazy salute from behind the mixing board.

“Night, Cole. Don’t let them keep you here till sunrise,” you added, earning a soft chuckle and a thumbs-up from him.

Then your eyes landed on Dylan, who was already walking toward you with that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips. Your best friend. The one who somehow always made the room feel a little brighter, even when exhaustion was creeping in.

He stopped right in front of you, closer than the others had been. His hand gently brushed your arm before he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of it stayed even after he pulled back.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” Dylan said quietly, his voice low and careful like it always got when it was just the two of you. “And please don’t forget to eat something. I know you get distracted once you walk through your door.”

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder. “Yes, mom. I’ll eat, I promise.”

He smiled wider at that, but there was something softer in his eyes tonight something that made your chest feel a little tighter in the best way.

You didn’t think too hard about it. This was Dylan. Your Dylan. The one who had been by your side through everything for years.

“Get some rest,” you told him, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “You three looked like you were onto something really good tonight.”

Dylan’s fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he finally released your hand. “Yeah… we were. Drive safe.”

With one last wave to the room, you stepped out of the studio and into the cool night air, the door clicking shut behind you. As you walked to your car, your cheek still tingled where his lips had been, and you found yourself smiling without quite knowing why.

Back inside the studio, the door had barely clicked shut behind you when Dylan let out a long breath and dropped onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. The room felt quieter now, the kind of quiet that made thoughts louder.

Braeden glanced over from the mixing board, raising an eyebrow. “You good, man?”

Dylan stared at the floor for a second, then looked up at his bandmates. “Have you guys ever… felt like you have all these words in your head, but when it’s time to say them, your throat just… doesn’t work? Like the sentences are right there, but they get stuck.”

Cole, who had been fiddling with his phone, paused and turned around with a slow grin. Braeden leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

Braeden let out a short laugh. “Bro. That’s called being in love, you idiot.”

Dylan’s head snapped up. “What?”

Cole chuckled, shaking his head. “Or you’re having a stroke. But let’s be real… if you’re talking about your best friend who just walked out of here, then yeah. You’re in love with her. Classic cliché, my dude.”

Dylan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He had spent months quietly feeling his heart go wild for you like a melody, every late-night writing session when he couldn’t stop thinking about you. But saying it out loud? That was different.

“I don’t know how to tell her,” he admitted quietly, voice rough. “She’s my best friend. What if I ruin everything?”

Braeden shrugged, smirking. “You won’t know until you try. But from what I’ve seen… the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching? You might not be the only one with words stuck in your throat.”

Cole nodded in agreement. “Just don’t wait too long, man. Those kinds of feelings don’t stay hidden forever.”

Dylan leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as the weight of it all settled over him. The album was almost done. He just needed to find the courage to hand it to you… and hope you heard everything he’d been too scared to say.

Dylan pushed open the door to his apartment, the quiet hum of the city filtering through the windows. He dropped his keys on the counter and stood there for a moment in the dim light, the studio energy still buzzing under his skin. But it wasn’t the music that kept replaying in his head.

It was you.

He walked over to the couch and sank into it, running his hands over his face. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, every little thing came rushing back: the way your laugh filled the whole studio earlier, how your eyes lit up when you talked about your own music, the soft warmth of your cheek against his lips when he kissed you goodbye. The way you always remembered the small things like bringing him coffee exactly how he liked it on long days, or texting him memes at 2 a.m. just to make him smile.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty room, a small, helpless smile tugging at his lips.

He wanted everything with you.

Not just stolen kisses on the cheek or late-night talks as best friends. He wanted mornings where he woke up to your face on the pillow next to his. He wanted to be the one who made you laugh on your hardest days and the one who held you through them. He wanted to watch you chase your dreams and cheer louder than anyone else in the crowd. He wanted lazy Sundays, road trips with the windows down, and quiet nights where it was just the two of you and the rest of the world faded away.

Dylan stood up and walked over to his desk, pulling open the drawer where the nearly finished album sat. The cover art was simple just a painting of photo he’d taken of you months ago, laughing under string lights at a rooftop party. Every song on it was for you. Every lyric poured out the feelings he’d been carrying for so long.

He wanted a future. With you.

The thought made his chest ache in the sweetest, most terrifying way. He grabbed his phone, thumb hovering over your name. Instead of texting, he set it down again. Not yet. He needed to get this right.

The album wasn’t just music—it was his heart, laid bare in melodies and words he still couldn’t say out loud.

Dylan leaned against the desk, staring out the window into the night.“I want everything with her,” he said softly to himself, the confession hanging in the quiet apartment like a promise. Dylan paced the living room of his apartment, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat. The feelings wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They pressed against his ribs, threatening to explode if he didn’t let them out. He couldn’t wait another night.

He grabbed his guitar from the stand in the corner, fingers trembling slightly as he sat on the edge of the couch. The notebook with the rest of the album tracks lay open beside him. One more song. He needed to get this one out right now, while the emotion was this raw.

Strumming the first soft chords, Dylan closed his eyes and let the words pour out, voice low and unsteady at first, then gaining strength as the melody took shape.

“Wake up in the morning light… Only got you in mind…” He sang quietly, pouring every unsaid feeling into the lyrics.“Wonder if you think of me… Wonder if you’d give me time…” His fingers moved faster across the strings, the song building with quiet urgency. “Tell me if it’s out of line… That I’d give you all mine…”

He thought of your smile, the way you looked at him tonight when he kissed your cheek, the years of friendship that had slowly turned into something deeper, something terrifying and beautiful.

“I know we’ve only hardly met… Remember every word you said…”

The memory of every late-night conversation, every accidental touch, every moment he had fallen a little harder came rushing back.

“Maybe you should come inside… Maybe we could talk all night…” His voice cracked just a little on the chorus, but he kept going, eyes still closed. “You don’t need to make a sound… You know I can hold it down…”

“Everything you’ve hoped to find… I think I’ve already found…” Dylan finished the final line with a soft strum, letting the last chord ring out in the quiet apartment.“So what are we waiting for? … It’s just something about you… All the things that you do… Make me see the end through…”

He set the guitar down slowly, breathing hard. The song felt right. It felt like the missing piece. This wasn’t just another track—it was the one that said everything he was still too scared to tell you face-to-face. Dylan stared at the notebook, a small, hopeful smile breaking through the nerves. The album was finally complete. Now he just had to find the courage to give it to you… and pray you felt even half of what he did.

The next morning, Dylan burst into the studio with more energy than he’d had in weeks. The door slammed open and he practically shouted, eyes bright and a huge grin splitting his face.“I finished it!” he yelled, holding up his laptop like it was a trophy. “The album. It’s done. Last song came to me last night and I couldn’t stop until it was right.”

Braeden looked up from his coffee, eyebrows raised in surprise, while Cole spun around in his chair with a matching grin.

“No way, dude. Already?” Cole asked.

Dylan nodded, practically vibrating as he plugged his laptop into the studio speakers. “You guys have to hear this one. It’s… it’s the closer. The one that says everything.”

He hit play before he could overthink it. The soft strumming of the guitar filled the room, followed by Dylan’s voice—raw, honest, and full of quiet longing.

“Wake up in the morning light… Only got you in mind…”

The lyrics floated through the studio, vulnerable and tender.

“Wonder if you think of me… Wonder if you’d give me time…”

Braeden leaned forward, elbows on his knees, listening intently. Cole’s smirk slowly faded into something softer as the chorus hit.

“Tell me if it’s out of line… That I’d give you all mine…”

By the time the song reached the bridge, the whole studio felt heavier with emotion. Dylan stood there with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring at the floor as his own recorded voice sang:

“It’s just something about you… All the things that you do… Make me see the end through…”

When the last chord faded, there was a beat of silence.

Braeden finally spoke, voice unusually gentle. “Damn, man… That’s beautiful. Like, really beautiful. She’s gonna hear how much you love her in every single note.”

Cole nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s emotional as hell. You put your whole heart into that one. If she doesn’t feel it after this, I don’t know what will.”

Dylan let out a shaky laugh, the excitement mixing with nerves now that the song was out in the open. “I just… I want her to know. All of it. I’m tired of keeping it inside.” He looked between his bandmates, a hopeful, almost scared smile on his face. “I think I’m ready to give her the album soon.”

The three of them sat with the weight of it for a moment, the new song still echoing softly in the room.

The studio fell into a thoughtful silence after the last notes of the new song faded out. Braeden leaned back in his chair, studying Dylan for a long moment before speaking. “Look, man… if you actually give her this album,” Braeden said slowly, his tone serious but kind, “once she listens to it, there’s no turning back. No moment to regret it or take it back. This isn’t some casual confession. This is an explosion. You’re handing her your whole heart on twelve tracks. Everything you’ve been feeling for years.”

Dylan swallowed hard, the weight of his friend’s words settling deep in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a nervous laugh that didn’t quite hide how he felt.“Yeah… I know,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I’m terrified. Like, actually terrified. What if she hears it and it changes everything? What if she doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse—what if she does, and I still manage to mess it up somehow?”

He paced a couple of steps, then stopped, shoulders tense. “But I can’t keep pretending anymore. Every time I see her, every time she smiles at me or texts me goodnight… it gets harder to hold it in. This album is the only way I know how to tell her everything I’ve been too scared to say out loud.”

Cole gave him a sympathetic nod. “That fear means it’s real, bro. But from everything we’ve seen… the way you two are around each other? I don’t think you’re the only one who’s been feeling something more.”

Dylan looked down at his laptop, the completed album staring back at him from the screen. His heart was racing, but underneath the terror was a spark of hope he couldn’t ignore.“I just want her to know,” he whispered, more to himself than to the guys. “Even if it’s scary as hell.”

Braeden clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Then go for it. Explosions can be beautiful too.”

The three of them dove back into work mode, but the energy in the studio had shifted. What started as casual tweaks quickly turned into focused perfectionism. Braeden adjusted levels and added subtle layers to the production, while Cole offered ideas on transitions and small instrumental touches. Dylan sat between them, listening intently and giving feedback on every detail.

As they polished one of the bridges, Dylan suddenly spoke up, his voice firm but soft.

“I need you guys to understand something,” he said, pausing the track. “No matter what happens… this album doesn’t go public. Ever. Not even if people beg for it later. This one is intimate. It’s for her only.” He looked down at the screen, expression vulnerable. “Maybe we can release a couple of the songs slowly, over time, as regular Wallows stuff if they fit. But the full thing? The complete album with every track in order? That version stays private. It’s the most naked version of my soul I’ve ever put into music. And I only want her to have it.”

Braeden nodded slowly, understanding lighting up in his eyes. “Got it. This is personal. Not for the fans, not for the label—just for her.”

“Exactly,” Dylan replied, a small, shy smile breaking through. “She’s been my best friend for so long… and now she’s everything. I don’t want the world hearing the deepest parts of how I feel about her. Those words, those melodies… they’re hers. Only hers.”

Cole leaned back with a gentle grin. “That’s really beautiful, man. Romantic as hell. We’ll make sure it stays that way. This album is going to mean the world to her.”

They went back to work with renewed care, treating every note like it was sacred. Dylan’s heart felt both heavier and lighter at the same time. The album was no longer just a secret project. It was a love letter—raw, honest, and meant for your ears alone. As the hours passed and the final mixes started sounding perfect, Dylan allowed himself to imagine the moment he would hand it to you.

The studio lights felt warmer as the evening settled in. Dylan stood by the table for a long moment after the guys had given their final input, just staring at the finished jewel case in his hands. The watercolor painting he’d made himself glowed softly under the lamp. He adjusted the case one last time, making sure the CD sat perfectly centered, the spine aligned, and the little handwritten note he’d tucked inside was visible when it opened. Everything had to be just right. This wasn’t something he could rush.

Cole leaned against the mixing board, arms crossed, watching him with a fond grin. “You’ve been fiddling with that case for ten minutes, lover boy. It’s perfect. She’s gonna lose her mind when she hears it.”

Dylan let out a nervous breath and finally closed the jewel case with a soft, decisive click. He ran his thumb over the painted cover one more time.“I know,” he murmured. “I’m giving it to her tonight. No more putting it off.”

Braeden nodded from his seat, looking proud. “Good. You poured everything into this. It deserves to be heard by the only person it was made for.”

Dylan slipped the album carefully into his bag, treating it like fragile glass. His chest felt tight with a mix of fear and excitement that made it hard to breathe normally. This little object contained every late-night thought, every unsaid feeling, every dream he had about a future with you. It was the most honest thing he had ever created. He looked around the studio one final time the place where the album had come to life and gave his bandmates a small, grateful smile.“Wish me luck,” he said quietly.

“You don’t need luck,” Cole replied. “You’ve got the truth on that disc.”

With the finished album safely tucked away, he headed for the door, heart pounding harder with every step. Tonight was the night.

Dylan’s hands were slightly clammy as he stood outside your apartment door later that evening. The jewel case was tucked safely inside his bag, but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He took a steadying breath and knocked.

A moment later, the door swung open.

You appeared in the doorway wearing your favorite oversized hoodie and soft shorts, hair loosely pulled back. The second your eyes landed on him, your cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful pink. You hadn’t been expecting anyone, least of all him showing up unannounced, and the surprise made you look impossibly cute — wide-eyed, a little flustered, and smiling that shy, happy smile that always made his heart stutter.“Dylan?” you breathed, the blush spreading even more. “Hi… I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Is everything okay?”

He smiled, warm and a little nervous, drinking in how adorable you looked standing there all blushy and caught off guard. “Hey,” he said softly, voice gentler than usual. “Yeah, everything’s perfect, actually. Can I come in? There’s something I’ve been wanting to give you.”

You blinked, still flushed and clearly surprised, but stepped back immediately and opened the door wider.

“Of course, come in,” you replied quickly, that sweet blush refusing to fade. “You know you’re always welcome. I just… wasn’t ready for surprise Dylan. I look like a mess right now.”

Dylan stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He couldn’t stop the fond smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you.“You look beautiful,” he said honestly, then added with a small, shy laugh, “You always do.” He adjusted the strap of his bag, feeling the weight of the album inside it. This was it the moment he’d been building toward for months.

You took the jewel case from Dylan’s hands with careful fingers, your blush still bright on your cheeks. When you opened it and saw the beautiful watercolor cover he had painted himself the one with you laughing under string lights your eyes softened instantly.

“Dylan… this is gorgeous,” you whispered.

He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I made the whole album for you. It’s not for anyone else. Just you. The full version stays private… it’s the most open I’ve ever been.”

You hugged the case to your chest for a second, then lit up. “Wait right here — I still have my old Discman!”

You disappeared into your room for a moment and came back holding the silver portable CD player, looking excited and still adorably flushed. Dylan’s heart did a full flip at how cute you were. You sat down on the couch and opened the jewel case again. Before you could put the headphones on yourself, Dylan moved closer, his expression incredibly soft and sweet.

“Here, let me,” he murmured. He gently took the earphones from your hands. With slow, careful movements, he leaned in and placed them over your ears, making sure they sat perfectly. His fingers brushed lightly against your hair and the warm skin just behind your ears as he adjusted them. He was so close you could smell his familiar cologne, and the tenderness in his touch made your blush deepen even more.

Dylan pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and full of quiet affection. “Perfect,” he said softly, almost to himself. He sat right beside you on the couch, so close that your legs touched, and pressed play on the Discman. The first gentle guitar chords of the opening track started playing just for you.

Dylan watched your face the entire time, nervous, hopeful, and completely in love, as the music he had poured his heart into began to fill your ears.

The songs played on, one after another, and with every track your heart melted a little more. The lyrics were so specific, so intimate — tiny details only the two of you shared, feelings you had kept hidden for so long, wrapped in beautiful melodies and Dylan’s honest, slightly raspy voice.

By the time the later songs started, especially the final one he had written that night, the realization hit you like a wave:

He felt the same way. All this time, your feelings for Dylan — your best friend, the person who made everything brighter — were completely reciprocated. The album wasn’t just music. It was a love letter written in the language only he knew how to speak to you.

Your eyes filled with tears. One slipped down your cheek, then another. You didn’t even try to hide it. The beauty and vulnerability of what he had created for you overwhelmed you in the best possible way. You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your heart flutter and ache all at once.

Dylan, who had been watching you intently the whole time, noticed right away. His expression softened with worry and affection as he leaned closer and gently paused the Discman.“Hey… sweetheart,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. He reached up and carefully brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his touch feather-light and full of care. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, laughing softly through the happy tears, still wearing the headphones.“It’s… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” you said, voice shaky. “Dylan, I didn’t know you felt all of this. I’ve been feeling the same for so long… and this album… it’s like you reached inside my heart and put everything I’ve been too scared to say into music.”

More tears slipped down your cheeks, but they were warm and full of joy. Your heart felt completely melted, overflowing with love for the boy sitting right beside you.

Dylan looked at you with shining eyes, his thumb still gently stroking your wet cheek. The headphones stayed on your ears, but the music was paused. All that mattered right now was the two of you.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, voice low and trembling with honesty. “I have been for so long. You’re my best friend, but you’re also the girl I think about the second I wake up and the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep. I want lazy mornings with you, I want to go to your shows and scream the loudest, I want to build a life with you. I was terrified of ruining what we had… so I made the album instead. Every single song is me saying I love you in the only way I knew how. It’s all yours. I’m all yours… if you want me.”

Your heart completely melted.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you slid your hands up to cradle his face, leaned in, and kissed him.

The kiss was soft and sweet at first — full of years of hidden feelings, late-night talks, and quiet longing. Dylan made a small surprised sound against your lips before melting into it, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer while his other hand stayed gently on your cheek. The kiss deepened slowly, warm and full of love, both of you smiling through it as happy tears continued slipping down your face.

When you finally pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing softly, Dylan let out a shaky, relieved laugh.“God… I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, still holding his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you for ages. The album… it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me. You’re everything, Dylan.”