! FUCK TRUMP FUCK ICE ACAB FUCK FASCISTS FUCK PEDOS FUCK ABUSERS PUNCH A NAZI FUCK WAR BE KIND AND STAY WEIRD !
PLEASE kindly fuck off if you're proship, profic or radqueer, EVERYONE ELSE IS WELCOME!
｡･:*˚:✧｡ you can call me aly ✩ they/them ✧ bi ★ 9teen ✶⋆.˚
✧˖*°࿐ ♫ now playing... caraphernelia by pierce the veil ♫
✧˖*°࿐ a woke they/them queer with low self-esteem and constantly rotating interests
✧˖*°࿐ current interests... resident evil, the pitt, lewis pullman
✧˖*°࿐ jan 7 2007 adhd writer artist journaler scrapbooker zombie and cowboys pierce the veil johnny cash emo a country soul midwesterner american pinterest whore daydreamer lori grimes defender i love my tortoise and dog!!
( +18 ) mdni / small plot smut. afab!reader. fwb!roommate!dennis. slightly sub!dennis. sex without romantic feelings. praise. begging. light dirty-talking. bantering. cowgirl position. slight hair pulling. unprotected piv (reader on the pill). overstimulation. creampie & squirting. non-romantic intimacy.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
It had all truly started when you asked Dennis if he wanted to become your roommate a few months ago.
The poor guy was new to the city, secretly sleeping on a higher floor of the hospital and God, you had pitied him. Now… not so much anymore; he left his dirty clothes everywhere, ate all your avocados, fell asleep with the tv and the lights on like bills were free. It pisses you off so much that you are often grumpy in his presence.
But Dennis isn’t a bad person, no—he has a big heart, he is a great listener and God, he knows how to make you come like no one else before.
The first time it happened, you were both stressed out from a long shift and didn’t think much of it. Clothes flew in the air, the room got humid and the smell of sex was charged. And after that, instead of ignoring each other, you spoke; of how it could help with stress, how it didn’t mean anything romantically wise, how it was only from time to time.
And that’s how Dennis because your friend slash roommate with benefits. But the title didn’t mean that he suddenly stopped eating your avocados or turned the lights off before going to bed, no. It was as if nothing had changed between the two of you; so you had to make him understand that he should be a little bit more considerate toward you. But if Dennis couldn’t understand that with words, maybe he could during your not-so-friendly activities.
That’s how you found yourself riding his cock after dinner—the TV was on, playing a random movie that he had chosen for you both to watch.
Moans and whines echoed from both of your mouths, making the movie unable to truly be heard, but it wasn’t like Dennis cared at that moment. Juices from your sloppy pussy had dripped all the way down to his length just to stick at his balls. “Dennis, fuck… So good, your cock’s so good.” His hands, a tad timid, tried to search the fat of your hips to grab on it and pull you down on his hard shaft. The angry red mushroom tip of his was already kissing the velvety walls of your cunt.
Dennis’ head rolled onto the leather fabric of the couch, his body resting against the backrest. “Mhhfph, please… Please, go faster.” You heard him say, voice not the usual confidence he now used at work, so different from when he started out last year. You weren’t sure if you truly wanted to give him what he wanted; after all, this was a lesson for him. But your pleasure mattered more at the moment, and you nodded. “M’okay, wait…” You voiced at him, hands moving to his shoulders to keep yourself steady.
Your hips started to roll and bounce faster on his cock—cock that seemed to go so much deeper inside your warmth, tip hitting at your cervix as you changed to angle. “Fuck, yes! Right there!” You gasped, pain and pleasure mixed before you started to drag his fat cock against your inner wall just to feel his tip hit that sweet spot of yours.
Your hips rolled and lowered, his balls sticking to the skin of your ass at the movements due to the amount of wetness there. Loud squelching noises echoed from your pussy as his cock filled you again and again.
Dennis’ hands moved then, now grabbing at the fat of your thighs, his lips parted and pupils blown out. “Ah! Yes, please… Your pussy feels so good. Need more, please.” He begged you, making your walls clench around his shaft at the tone of his words. A gasp escaped him at the feeling and his blue eyes looked up to your face. His forehead was sweat-covered, curls resting there and sticking to his skin due to the efforts and activity.
His hips started to thrust up to meet your own when it lowered, his cock slamming inside your sloppy hole and nuzzling inside. You moaned at the feeling before harshly meeting him to bring them down. “No, no, Dennis. I told you not to move before, didn’t I?” Your words made him whine and squirm under the weight of your body, like his cock would explode if he didn’t move in the next three seconds.
His eyes were all teary as he nodded at you. “Yes—I know, but please… I promise to be good. I’ll wash my dirty clothes, and—I’ll stop eating your food.”
You very slowly rolled your hips against his own at the promise, your slick clit brush and rubbing against the hair above his penis. His grip tightened on your thighs like he wanted to move you faster, but he did nothing of the sort. “Promise to be a good boy?” You asked him, suddenly picking up the pace so his cock would be stimulated once more. It dragged all the way up and down to your gummy walls, his tip catching against the g-spot of your pussy with each thrust of your hips. Dennis gasped, his own hips jerking up to meet yours, slotting himself like he belonged there.
The nod of his head was frantic and a whine escaped him again. “Yeah, I… Fuck! Yes, I swear. I’ll be a good boy. Please, I just want to come.” He said, his voice all whiny and pathetic. You hummed, one of your hands moved between your thighs just so you could rub at your clit. It was all slick with wetness, a mess that had also migrated to your inner-thighs and around your puffy folds.
Dennis’ cock made a shlick noise each time it pushed back inside your wet pussy and his balls slapped to your ass, sticking there.
You rolled your fingers against your clit, hips moving uncoordinately now as you tried to bring yourself to climax. It was messy, fingers playing with your cunt, Dennis’ cock deep inside your gummy hole and your moans mixing in the space. His hips thrusted up after a moment to help you out and you pushed the fat of your pubic area against his own so your clit would rub there with each thrust. Your free hand moved to the back of Dennis’ head just to tug on the short hair there, making him moan at you.
“Please, I need to come… Please let me, ah!” He cried out and your pussy clenched around his fat, wet-slick cock.
Just like that, your orgasm coursed through your body, making you breathless. Moving your hips quite literally overstimulated you but you kept going, even though your muscles were now twitching. “Dennis, fuck! Right there, don’t stop!” You cried out at him, your fingers now back against your clit to rub it fast and Dennis’ hips jerked up faster, cock slamming inside you.
Your eyebrows furrowed as the pleasure ran throughout your entire body just to finish inside your cunt; making you squirt. A gasp left your mouth and Dennis cursed as hot juices from your pussy splashed onto his lower stomach and chest, leaking from his body to the leather couch. “Fuck, yes! Yes, yes, mhhpfh!” You cried out as squirt flowed out of you a bit more before Dennis gasped too, hips stilling with his cock deep inside you. His hips tugged you down so you wouldn’t move as he filled you up with his semen.
The both of you were now messy, sticky and way too tired to move. His hands moved from your hips to wrap around your sweat-covered back so you would lay on his chest. You hummed with contentment, not minding the mess at all; even though globs of his thick, creamy white come dripped out of your hole to finish on his balls and down to the couch.
The room was now filled with loud breathing and the smell of sex and sweat hit your noise. Dennis’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, I… I came inside you. I didn’t even think, I—” You stopped him, shaking your head so he would stop worrying so much. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill. I wouldn’t have let you come inside, otherwise.” He simply hummed at your words and a silence took over the humid, sex smelling room.
Then he spoke again, quieter. “It was… so fucking good. Really good.” You nodded your head at his words, nodding your head before lifting it to see his expression.
“You promised to not eat my food again, though, I remember that.” You voiced back at him and he chuckled, his eyes closed to relax. His cock was still in your sloppy hole, now softening slowly, though you felt him pulsate and twitch a few times.
summary: you and whitaker explore the boundaries of your freshly changed relationship
warnings: spicy but not smutty, MDNI, disgusting horrific mutual pining, smooches, dual pov, dennis touches ur butt, possibly unrealistic positioning but idrc, reassurances, they don't boink yet so don't get too excited
a/n: as long as i keep rolling these out you guys will be gettin' em. and yes i do keep jumping around in the timeline... i imagine this is not their first kiss but guess what? i haven't written that yet. xD thank you for all the love you've shown that big capital L loser whitaker and his equally dumb loser roommate | beautiful divider from @strangergraphics
Your hand creeps up under the bottom hem of Dennis's scrub top to find the soft belly you've been craving to touch for months now. Months you've had to stop yourself from thinking about him too much, because it's too painful not to have him. Because you didn't think he could possibly want you back like this.
Turns out he thought the same thing.
Turns out you were both wrong.
And now you're kissing your roommate in the middle of the living room.
"Is this okay?" Your voice comes out wobbly, pressing the pads of your fingers into the delightfully firm squish of his tummy.
Dennis cups your face, and he nods, his cheeks reddening. You think he might actually fall to his knees from how reverently he's looking at you.
He kisses you then, slowly and intentionally. The hand on your cheek snakes around to stabilize the back of your neck, the other grabbing you by the hip and tugging you closer. The gasp that leaves your lips is a more salacious noise than he thinks he's ever heard you make before. Then again, Dennis thinks, there’s probably a lot of salacious noises he’s never heard you make before.
His cock flutters a little, constricting against the elastic band of his scrub pants. Crazy how you're wearing the exact same outfit, yet the sight of you in it sends reverberations all the way down to his dick.
Abandoning your lips, he murmurs your name and trails along your cheek and your jawline until he's pressing warm, wet kisses directly below your earlobe.
His hands travel abroad as well, roaming to the sensitive spot that connects your thighs to your ass. He digs his fingers in, and you jump a little.
"Is that okay?" He asks, rearing back in immediate alert to examine your expression.
A low hum is your response as your leg scrambles to try and hook around him, somehow thinking that's a possibility. Your body craves one thing: wrapping around him like a snake around a tree, and you don't care how it happens. The pounding heartbeat between your legs shoves any semblance of sense out the driver’s seat.
Dennis laughs, a little chuffing sound, then reinforces his hands beneath your rear.
"I can lift you?" He offers. You love that about him, that he seeks permission before turning your view of the whole world on its head. Another buzzy, eager hum vibrates out of you, and Dennis takes that as permission —because it is. He presses his fingers hard under you, and you hop up, legs hooking haphazardly around his hips.
You never forgot that he can hold you without much effort. In fact, you laid awake many nights recalling the time you rolled your ankle at the gym, and Dennis carried you in his arms the half-mile home.
The mere thought of him throwing you around has left you weak in the knees on more than one occasion. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. You attribute it to the farm work he grew up doing. The thought of him baling hay and corraling cows, for some perverse reason, has also left you weak in the knees on more than one occasion.
He has to jostle you around a little to secure his grip, then he's all business, marching with purpose to the wall by the sofa.
It does occur to Dennis that the sofa is right there, but the gasp that ekes out of you when your back pancakes against the wall is intoxicating enough for him to shove any pressing logic into a locked box. Your thighs hug his hips, legs folded around him. He’s been thinking of this for months, of having you, but he never thought it would actually happen.
Dreams of you were just that: dreams. Fantasy. Imagination. Impossible.
A confetti canon shoots off in his heart and his head and down to his dick, shocked and so fucking grateful that he gets to have you like this. That you picked him as much as he picked you. That you want him, too.
Whatever good deed he performed in a past life is paying off now, because holding you like this is nothing short of miraculous.
He takes his time on your neck, curly fringe tickling your cheek while his lips suck and lap you up. An unnerving contrast, you think, for him to touch you in so many places, in so many ways, all at once. His fingers knead your ass while simultaneously pinning you up to the wall.
Dennis’s cock tightens beneath his scrubs, erect and sensitive to every sensation he’s receiving from you. Fingers claw along his back, his arms, digging in just enough for him to feel, to get him hooked, to crave you even more. The pressure of this moment isn't lost on him, but your every touch whittles away at the feeling.
“Dennis,” you whine his name, dragging the syllables out, head tilted to the ceiling as he sucks the same spot on your neck.
His hyper-vigilance prevents him from ignoring you, craning back to examine your expression.
“Am I doing something wrong?” He asks through heavy breaths. Anxiety writes an epic poem across his face.
Deep, blue-green eyes form perfect, sunken-in ovals and search your expression, worried he’s already fucked this up.
The worst thing that could possibly happen, in fact, is him fucking this up.
But from your perspective, you heart stops, caught in this moment like a fish in a net.
You’ve never been to Nebraska, but you imagine this is exactly what people mean when they call it 'big sky country'. You hesitate to speak, but only because the tenderness in his sea-glass eyes temporarily paralyzes you.
“No,” you exhale finally, resting your hands on his shoulders, fingering the hair on the nape of his neck. Flushed and unable to form a coherent thought, you babble on. “No, you’re perfect, I’m sorry. You’re perfect, Dennis, please—“
“Okay,” he nods rapidly while looking down, psyching himself back up to resume his ministrations. He digs his fingers in to the generous, supple skin of the back of your thighs. “But you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”
“Yeah,” your voice is cloying, breathy, and desperate, as you feed the gold chain around his neck through your fingers. “I said your name because I had to. I couldn’t keep it out of my mouth,” you spew. “My brain is revving a thousand miles an hour, I had to.” Your mouth remains open, heavy breaths pumping through it.
Dennis’s dick throbs in his pants at the realization that he’s the reason you’re babbling on, it's because of him that nervous, bubbly laughter and shaky sighs are leaving your beautiful mouth. A jolt of pride, followed by a darkened shade of desire swoop over him.
A slow, twitchy smile erupts over his mouth, and he nods in understanding. “Okay,” he whispers, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Hungry, he thinks, to compound a list of how the different parts of you taste. Concern for your comfort, your pleasure, persists. “But you’ll tell me?” He asks again, chipping away at your resolve. “If I do something you don’t like?”
Petulance flickers out of you in the form of a needy, gravelly whine. “Yes, Dennis, please,” you start, grasping his firm shoulders and squeezing. Your nails bite through his scrub sleeves. “Where is this coming from?”
“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” Dennis explains, hoisting upward so your back slides up against the beige-painted wall. “It’s you. It’s us.”
You take pause at the sincerity of his voice, the meaning propping his words up on shaky stilts. Your neediness takes the backseat, sobering to prioritize this obvious anxiety exuding off of him like steam.
“Set me down?” You whisper softly, phrasing it as a question so he won’t spiral out even more. His forearms flex as you untangle your legs from his middle. You keep your palms over his shoulders, bracing him firmly and maintaining steady eye contact.
“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” you say definitively once your feet are planted on the ground. Dennis reaches for you, tugging you by your scrub top. Your back remains pinned against the wall but your hips jut out, searching for his. “Why do you think you’re going to fuck it up?”
He shakes his head, his mouth a tight line. You think maybe that’s shame darkening his gaze as he averts it from you.
“Dennis,” you try to coax him to look at you, but he's frozen, screwing his eyes shut, his grip tightening around the fabric of your top. "Angel?"
His gaze snaps to yours as the endearment rolls off your tongue. The way you say it is hesitant, but earnest. Blush spreads from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. Dennis's throat is lined with razors, so he just blinks those weathered eyes at you.
You squeeze his shoulders. "Talk to me," you urge softly.
Dennis's head bobs, and as his fists dig into the fabric of your shirt, his knuckles press into your torso. "You're my best friend," he croaks, and you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.
The sight rocks you, and you blink a few times to assure yourself it's actually happening. Your hands slide from the caps of his shoulders to either side of his neck.
You expect him to say more, but his mouth hangs open, as if the words are there but he can't quite get them out.
"You make everything better," he swallows. "I don't know what I'd do if…"
You tug Dennis into a hug, extending your arms so they wind around his neck. Dennis holds you tightly, fingers pressing into the small of your back. "I don't think you need to be worried about that," you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck then nuzzling your chin into it. "We just need to keep communicating, okay? While we're on that," you add, "I don't think I'm going to dislike anything you do to me."
Dennis takes a long, soothing inhale, the scent of your shampoo infiltrating his senses. He clings to you for another few moments, allowing time for his heart to slow back down, for the glass dome of disbelief that any of this is actually happening to crack a little. The tears that threatened to fall have disappeared, and the relief at your assurance lightens the weight off his shoulders.
"You had to say my name, huh?" He asks as he pulls his head back, not letting go of you but managing a sideways slash of a smile.
"Uh, yeah," you snort, drawing back your hands and reaching up to pinch his chin all in the same breath. It's hard to feel embarrassed around him —partially, you think, because you've seen him splattered in countless bodily substances at work. Instead, his presence makes you brave enough to lean into the humility. Honesty instead of excuses. "You kind of have that affect on me."
The crinkles compressing around his eyes are delectable, and you can't resist anymore. You use your hold on his chin to hold him in place, leaning forward to kiss him.
There's lots to talk about with this shift in dynamic. 'Roommates who kiss' isn't exactly an apt description, not when the care you feel for him runs so much deeper. It could be awfully messy, you think, if you and Dennis avoid talking about all of it for too long.
But then you flick your tongue against his and elicit a moan from him that shoots straight down between your legs. Heat continues to bloom when Dennis grips your hips, squaring them parallel to his. You suck his bottom lip for a long moment, peeling away to find a delicately flushed face looking back at yours.
"That's okay?" you ask, receiving an instant, eager nod in return.
"You can make the same assumption," he says.
You arch a brow.
"I'm not gonna dislike anything you do to me, either." Dennis repeats your own words back to you. You open your mouth to protest, but he surges forward to catch your lips before you can.
goodnight n go ( dennis whitaker x night shift!reader, slow burn, and they were roommates !! *tucks hair behind ear*,, heyyy so i birthed this last night after my third eye opened for whitaker and now here we are pls lock IN also pretend this is after a couple shifts and not right away that den moves in !! and there’s like a 15 min interval in between the changing of the shifts bc i say so and this is when they interact,, thankyeww )
You were hunched over the sink, shoveling cereal into your mouth when the door unlocked and your roommate came in,“Trin, I’m late as fuck, I can’t find my stethoscope, and I simultaneously haven’t had a bowel movement all week but think I might just shit my pants, how fucking bad is it?”
A throat cleared.
Oh fuck…
You turned around, aaand your roommate wasn’t alone.
“Oh, hey…” You forced a smile onto your face, giving your friend a look that clearly said dude, what the fuck?! and she returned it with a shrug and an impassive look that said we can discuss it later. You wanted to scream, instead you chose to rise above and introduce yourself,“Please ignore everything you heard when you first walked in, Trinity didn’t think to warn me she picked up a stray on the way home.”
“Tried calling, you were dead.” Trinity busied herself with toeing off her shoes and removing her jacket.
“Dennis.” The guy with her went to shake your hand, but Trinity flicked him and motioned to his shoes, a blush crawled up his neck as he stood back and untied them as he looked back up at you,“Whitaker. I’m on day shift with Santos, she said it’d be cool if I took the loft.”
“Night shift.” You said back,“It’s cool, you likely won’t see me much, I sometimes don’t make it to my bed and crash on the couch, but feel free to come and go, I’m a heavy sleeper as you just heard.” You checked your watch and groaned,“And I am late as shit, Trin, your stethoscope? Please.”
She tossed one end at you and you caught it, pulling it around your neck and blowing her a kiss as she retreated to her room down the hall. You shoved your feet through your shoes and gave Whitaker one last look.
“See ya!”
He was left standing with one shoe still on, alone, and blushing still.
Dennis didn’t see you again for another week, and when he finally did… he was in the bathroom. Showering.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, this is rude, but I’m late as fuck, and I just have to brush my teeth.” You barged in without announcing yourself, knocking things around as you fumbled for your toothbrush,“I’m not looking, I swear.”
He ceased all movement.
“Uh, it’s, um, fine.” He stood under the stream, still as a statue for a whole minute while you brushed and spit and gargled.
“K, thanks, bye!” You let out a small laugh as you left, shutting the door loudly behind you.
He gulped, slowly resuming his shower. He’d come home post shift, immediately wanting to be clean, not having thought about you having to rush to get to work right away. Santos had ditched him for her so-called plans, and truthfully he just wanted to jump into bed after an extra long day.
It wasn’t until he stepped out of the shower a few minutes later that he realized you’d mixed up your toothbrush with his.
After living with you and Santos for a little over a week, he’d come to learn a few things about you.
One: you loved sleep, and whenever you weren’t at work you were off catching sheep. In your room, on the couch, and once he’d found you on the floor of the bathroom, still in scrubs, toothbrush hanging from your mouth. Two: you loved coffee. He had never bothered with it, and Trinity was more of a tea girl. But you drank it every time you woke up for a shift, and very often throughout the day, as given away by the various cups often left around the house. Trinity told him once you claimed it helped with both waking you up and making you sleepy, something about the smell of it soothed you.
And lastly: you cursed, a lot.
He was used to it, of course, having worked alongside Santos and other people like her before. His father was a big swearer too, but for him and his brothers it had always been frowned upon, and the habit of not doing so had kind of stuck.
Your favorites included fuck, shit, and son of a bitch. You were also fond of the word cunt, but he wasn’t sure if that counted as a swear word, just that you said it in a tone that implied it that way.
Dennis had also come to realize that he was truly and utterly fucked.
He knew what to expect from Santos when she said he could move in with the two of you, he’d worked with her and was witness to her flirting with various women (pretty badly) the whole week. Not only that, but he wasn’t really into the whole bully thing. As a friend, sure, more than that? Consider him out. But you?
Not only were you… visually appealing, to say the least, but during your small and limited interactions you were nothing but nice to him. Santos hadn’t showed him around much, but you’d left him a note before heading to bed indicating where everything he might need would be, as well as the nearest grocery store and pharmacy store, and your favorite local coffee shop (he hadn’t gotten around to telling you he didn’t care for it yet). He’d only worked with you once, during the PittFest incident, and you’d mainly kept to the night crew, as they had been the ones instructing you. According to Trinity, you’d started your internship a week before hers.
She had let him know the basics, how you were roommates during college, and figured getting an apartment together was a good move because your paths were similar enough. You were close, but not that close (in her eyes, anyway), and you mainly hung out at night time during off days because you were such a night owl. While Santos was shooting for a double residency with surgery and the e.d., you mainly cared to stick it out in emergency medicine. You liked the rush, and didn’t much care to see your patients through the rest of their outcome.
You were able to separate yourself from it all.
And he, who had absolutely nothing to offer, should do the same before he went and got his heart stomped on. Oh, and you had a cat.
Your shift had dragged last night. A sigh left your lips as you leaned your forehead against the coolness of the door, taking a small moment to collect yourself.
You’d run into Trinity at the hospital, she’d arrived over thirty minutes earlier to see if you had any good cases you could hand over to her. You’d snorted and complained to her about your shift while you finished up your final charts, and then you teasingly tugged on her ponytail as you left for home, wishing her luck.
Walking had been a drag, but you didn’t live far and there was no point for a car.
I need a shower, you thought, but sleeeep, UGH.
The creak of the loft ladder forced you to look up in surprise, you’d completely forgotten he was still here. You kicked your shoes off and discarded your jacket,“Morning.”
He smiled softly,“Goodnight.”
You turned away, hiding your grin with your under scrub t-shirt while you fiddled with the coffee machine, already craving your next cup before bed.
“Rough night?” Whitaker asked.
“No.” You shook your head, still looking down,“Just boring, drawn out, was dying to get home and hit my bed the whole time.”
“Ah, well, don’t let me keep you, I’m about to head out.” You heard him unzip his backpack, presumably going through his things and making sure he had everything,“Santos leave already?”
“Over thirty ago.” You scoffed.
You hadn’t know what to think of him yet, Dennis Whitaker. He and Trinity were sort of friends? You’d spent a couple nights on the couch together, discussing him when he hadn’t been around.
According to Trinity he was like a little lost puppy, and she took pity upon finding out he’d been camping out in the hospital, unhoused. She’d remembered the unnecessary loft that came with the apartment you two shared, and offered it up without really thinking twice. It wasn’t really a room, as it had no walls or doors, but it was high enough above that he wouldn’t be bothered, plus who would dare to complain when the other option was homelessness? You had always been chill about pretty much everything and she took a chance on it, thinking you wouldn’t mind.
You didn’t.
And in the following days, you tried to help him settle. He didn’t have much and you’re pretty sure the first night he’d slept on a pile of his clothes. You’d left a note next to the coffee machine telling him where all the toiletries could be found, as well as the nearest stores in case he might need something you two didn’t already have. He’d hauled a mattress up there at some point, you were sure, and he didn’t make a fuss about the small space.
It was almost like you never got a third roommate.
That was… until you started to notice him. He lost his socks around the apartment often, and you’d begun to notice Trinity putting double the amount of avocados in the basket when you went grocery shopping (those were expensive!!), not only that but she’d brought up letting him join couch rotting with you two.
She’d reclaimed her armchair, stating that he could keep you warm on the couch instead of her now, but it just resulted in you gathering more blankets instead. You had a variety of tv shows you shuffled through; BoJack Horseman, Shameless, Grey’s Anatomy (you and Trinity started hate watching in college, but neither of you would admit you were secretly into the drama), and you’d recently started Derry Girls. You and Trinity liked to mimic the accents, but Dennis refused to give it a try, and you’d wondered later that night if he wasn’t quite comfortable around you yet.
It was all fine and dandy, though.
Up until your cat was in your room less and less. You’d ripped open a package of one of her favorite treats, excited to give it to her before you left for work, only to hear soft purring coming from his loft.
And that was where the little traitor had been all night too, you noted, watching the feline trail after him and seemingly say goodbye to him at the door. Dennis bent down and ran his fingers under her chin, cooing silently at her before looking up at you with another small smile,“Sleep well.”
You meant to say have a good shift in return, but he’d gone before you could and when the door finally shut you turned to your cat and hissed,“Traitor! You really like him more than me?! And after I saved your orphan ass!” As if she could understand you, she lifted her tail and sauntered away, sassily making her way down the hallway and toward your room.
A gasp left your lips at her audacity as you gave up messing with the coffee machine, opting to head to bed instead.
⋆˚✿˖° | best friends trinity and dennis who have always been there for you. two shoulders to cry on, two hands to hold whenever and wherever. the two of them close like siblings, bickering, petty fights and the like. but they always were on the same page when it came to you. they both having long ago had the conversation on sharing you equally. two siblings sharing their favorite toy essentially. unbeknownst to you of course. they were your people so what if they were a bit touchy? they were equally affectionate. it wasn’t uncommon for trinity to sit you on her lap and tuck her head onto your shoulder.
or for dennis to slide his hand into your back pocket when you walked around together. palm relaxed against the curve of your ass. casual and easy that was the best way to describe your closest friends.
⋆˚✿˖° | they would even occasionally kiss you, a peck to the cheek or lips. thats where trinity liked to kiss you, while dennis always opted for the nose or forehead. each kiss making you feel giggly and warm. if you’d ever ask about it trinity would just give you a confused look bordering in uncomfortable. “we’re best friends, don’t make it weird” then dennis would cut in “yeah, it’s not like..a thing” their words and tone almost making you feel stupid and weird for asking. it’s not like you didn’t like it..you were just curious. and eventually that phrase became a common reoccurrence.
⋆˚✿˖° | “we’re best friends don’t make it weird”
dennis would mutter, when kissing you up against the kitchen counter. hands on your hips and tongue in your mouth while he presses his hard on into your thigh. fingers inching down your sleep shorts to peek into your panties. hips steadily rutting onto you before he can even strip you properly.
⋆˚✿˖° | “we’re best friends don’t make it weird”
when trinity climbs into the shower with you. it’s fine with you honestly. having an extra body beneath the warm water is comforting, especially when she takes your rag and offers to clean your back. then over your shoulders, skimming your tits to then run her slick soapy hands over your cunt. her chin on your shoulder and breasts on your back while she touches you.
⋆˚✿˖° | it continues on, their attention on you growing and growing. they almost get competitive for your attention. fighting about who gets to have you and when. if dennis finds out trinity ate you out now he has to bc it’s only fair! trin sees that dennis had you ride him until you shook? she’s angrily getting her strap out to fuck you even harder.
( +18 ) mdni / gn!reader. sub!frank. hair pulling. petname (baby). mocking. praising / degrading. self-pleasure. humiliation. coming in clothes. frank rubbing himself on reader's foot.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
A moan echoes out of Frank’s mouth when your fingers run through his silk hair just to tug on it, throwing his head back to meet your eyes. His pupils are blown out, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to gulp, lips parted just enough to show the tip of his pink tongue. You just look at him, hearing him whine and moan for your touch; that’s how pathetic you like him.
Pliable, obedient, and pathetic Frank who would do anything for you even if it meant embarrassing himself. “Please, let me—” You hear him beg as he rut himself against your shoe, his knees hitting the wooden floor, almost burning his skin under the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
“I need you so bad, please, baby.” Frank’s voice resonates in your ears and you only hum at him, looking down at his position, how his crotch rubs against your foot, the heavy weight of his bulge resting there for attention. You almost want to give it to him, to telling him to stand up and fuck you, but does he truly deserves it today?
You hum, shaking your head. “No. Not today, Franky. Let's just see how pretty you are when you’re all desperate. Rub yourself for me, yeah?” You reply back to him, tugging once more on his luscious locks, making him gasp. His eyes close for a second, a pinkish tint takes cover on his cheeks before his hips jerks toward your shoes, cock hitting the tip of it, making him moan out loud.
A sigh escapes you at the sigh you have of your boyfriend, so obedient and so pathetic on his knees for you.
Frank doesn’t stop there, but his eyes open again to look at you like waiting for permission, which you give to him. A nod of your head is enough for his hips to start thrusting toward your foot, searching for friction against his hard, leaking cock. Pre-cum builds up at his angry red tip still hiding in his pants, his boxers all damp with sticky fluid, making the sensation almost uncomfortable to him.
“Fuck, ah—” He moans when hitting the vamp of your shoe this time, his hands moving to wrap around your sheen to make sure you won’t pull away.
You can see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead as he keeps moving to pleasure himself. “You’re so fucking pathetic, Frank, aren’t you?” You ask after a beat or two of silence, making him whine out. His hips don’t even stop after your words, actually fastening their pace. Frank nods at you, eyes lifting to look at your face before replying, panting and all red-cheeks. “Yes, fuck… I can’t stop myself, I’m sorry. I need you so bad, baby.” The words are a little muffled when he bites down on his bottom lip to not moan too loudly.
Frank can feel the warm friction of his cock against the fabric of his damp, sticky boxers and your shoe; it burns in the most pleasurable way he has ever known before. The embarrassment of being so pathetic excites him more than he could have imagined too.
Your eyes on him, your words, the way you let him use your foot—all of this feels so good. “Feels good, uh? Bet you’d like me to let you do that all the time. Like a fucking dog.” You speak up, and your boyfriend moans your name, nodding his head in approval of your sentences. It feels so good, he wants to reply.
Your fingers run through his locks once more, before tugging back on it to make Frank look at you again, his tongue dragging a path along his lips to wet them. “Go on baby, make yourself feel good. Want to cum in your pants for me, Franky?” You voice at him to which he nods, all eagerly and obediently. Just like a good puppy. “That’s my good boy.” His hips jerks and his cock rubs against the vamp of your shoe after those words, his hands gripping at the fabric of your pants, all needily and pathetically. You almost laugh at the view of him like that, wanting to come so badly.
“Please, please… Please, I need to come.” Frank says, eyebrows furrowing as he feels the warmth at his lower belly, lips gasping as he fastens the jerk of his hips, rubbing faster and harder against your foot. “Fuck, baby—” He cries out and you feel the warmth of his sweaty hands through your pants when his hands course up to your thigh, searching more attention.
You chuckle at him, now both of your own hands running through his hair, pushing the locks away from his forehead, tugging softly on it.
Suddenly, his body arches at your feet; his thighs tremble, he folds himself against your lap, crying out. His orgasm is strong, making him whine and whimper like a pathetic puppy. “Please! Mphfhhp, fuck! Yes, yes…” You hear him, before a deep breath escapes him and he relaxes, hands softening on your thighs as he looks up at you, all sweaty and red.
You almost want to call him a fucking pathetic dog again, let him realize how disgusting and icky he is for rutting himself like that on your foot, but you do nothing of the sort. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb caressing his warm cheek, his pupils blown out as he looked at your face, lips parted before he ended up talking in a quiet and raw voice.
“Thank you so much baby, thank you for letting me feel so good.”
( +18 ) mdni / smut. afab!reader. masked man. dacryphilia. drooling. oral fixation (fingers). unprotected piv. hair pulling. groping. noise kink. mocking. dirty-talking. she / her pronouns to talk about reader's genitalia. creampie.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
Simon damn well that nothing could pull him away from your body now; not even someone barging into his room.
You had been a little tease all day long—accidentally brushing your hand over his crotch during training, getting on your knees in front of him during lunch after accidentally dropping your fork, looking up at him with your big eyes and fluttering eyelashes. It’s like you had practically asked him to fuck you in front of the others at that moment and thanks God he had some restrain.
But that restraint had flown away as soon as the day had started to quiet down and Price dismissed you all. Simon had grabbed your arm tightly, making sure you wouldn’t back up and fly away like a tease again.
The Lieutenant now had you on his creaky military bed, naked and on all four (even though you felt like your arms were soon about to give up). Tears of pleasure are making their way down your cheeks and Simon doesn’t even try to wipe them away because those puts on a show he loves to see. He loves knowing how good he can make you feel, how much of a mush your brain becomes when he fucks that tight little pussy of yours. Those tears are like a reward to him.
One of his big strong hands moves to your hair, undoing the neat hairstyle you usually need to have during the day, and without any warning, he tugs on the locks. A loud whine escapes your mouth, soon followed by moans and cries of Simon’s name.
“Bloody hell, be any more loud ‘nd the whole barrack is going to hear ya’.” He groans to you, his voice mixing with the loud slapping of skin echoing in the small room. His hips slam against your ass, fat jiggling and body bouncing. You almost fall over but his second hand is groping your tit, fingers playing with your nipple and keeping you there.
There’s drool at the corner of your lips, slowly leaking to your chin as you keep your mouth open to cry out. It feels too good to not make voices and deep inside, you know Simon loves it. He loves that everyone knows what is happening in that room; that he is fucking you good, that his fat cock is stretching you open, that his bulbous tip hit your cervix. He wants everyone to imagine how he has you on your knees, or folded up, up against the wall.
A stronger thrust of his hips has his cock hit at your sweet spot, making you gasp and arch your back. “Fuckin’ sweet pussy, takes me so good. Go on, let everyone hear how good you like my cock. Let them hear how much she loves me, that pussy.” His words make you clench your slick walls around his shaft.
His upper body moves, you can feel the harsh fabric of his balaclava against your saliva-coated cheek for a second as he murmurs to you. “Think I should fill her up? Paint her with my cum?” You whine at him, nodding your head.
His hand on your tit squeezes the fat and flesh there, fingers rolling and pinching at your nipple. You can feel his fat and heavy cock stretching your gummy walls, his veins twitching inside you. The hand in your hair pulls once more so your neck is shown to him; Simon’s eyes focusing on the hickeys he had left there minutes before—red and purple marks, something that will be impossible to hide tomorrow to the others. Of course he had done that on purpose, a bit of a punishment for teasing him all day long.
His hand ends up moving, sneaking toward your neck, fingers smearing your saliva around before arriving at your chin. Loud squelching noises are echoing in the room, your wet pussy leaking and juices sticking to your inner-thighs, Simon’s cock slipping in and out of the hole like butter. “Such a good cunt, I could stay inside for hours.” You hear him say, your arms trembling from the position you try to keep.
Simon doesn’t warn you when he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, pressing them down against your tongue. You immediately stuck your tongue out for him, drooling over your chin, down to your neck.
“Look at ya’, filled up with my cock ‘nd now with my fingers. Fucking pathetic.” You can’t even reply with his big fingers in your mouth, but a whine escapes from your throat, which only makes Simon pick up the pace of his hips.
Gasps and whimpers leaves you now, as he sets a brutal pace, his cock forcing itself deeper inside your wet, sloppy cunt. Simon groans at the volume of your voice, his cock twitching inside your pussy, a tell-tale of how much he likes when you’re loud. His balls slap against your slick clit, sticking there due to the amount of wetness pooling at your pussy. Louder squelching noises echo in the room now, making it all perverted and dirty.
“Going to fill her up so good, makin’ sure your walls are white with my cum, yeah? Want that?” He asks, his fingers pushing on your tongue before hooking in the inside of your cheek, making you stick your tongue out even more.
Drools drip from the corners of your mouth, tears now mixing with the bodily fluid and your face is a mess. Simon’s tip hits directly against your sweet spot when he angles his hips up, dragging his mushroom head against your walls. You cry out, fingers closing onto the bedsheets as the masked man fucks the brain out of you.
“Wanna cum, yeah? Wanna cum on my cock?” He groans, voice muffled by the balaclava and the efforts he gives to make you come. The hand used to grope your tit moves down your belly and between your thighs, fingers smearing slick around your puffy clit to stimulation. Your thighs shake at the touch, you feel your body almost giving over but unable to fall with Simon’s fingers inside your mouth. “She’s so fuckin’ good, that pussy, sucking me up so well.” Your pussy clenches at his words, sniffles and whines escaping you as you cry out of pleasure.
His middle and ring fingers start to rub and circle around your sticky clit all while his fat cock disappears inside your sloppy hole. Juices are making the hair at the base of his cock glisten now, his balls are all the same from the way they still slap at your clit.
The stimulation is too good and a few more rubs of your bud of nerves is enough to make you see stars. You cry out—thighs shaking and twitching, pussy clenching around Simon’s fat cock, trying to keep him inside and milk him dry.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s it… Good girl. Let me reward that cunt now, yeah?” Simon’s voice seems so far away as the orgasm gives your ears a buzzing. Finally, he lets go of your mouth just to grab your hip, the other hand still playing with your clit. His grip is strong, probably going to bruise tomorrow but you don’t care about that at the moment.
His hips slaps against your ass, groans leaving his mouth as he reaches his own orgasm after a few more thrusts that overstimulates you. Simon stops, cock nuzzled and buried deep inside your sloppy hole as he fills you up with his hot, white creamy come. There’s so much, the fluid leaking from your pussy in globs, dripping from your pussy to his balls and down to the bedsheets.
Your pussy is full and only then, the Lieutenant pulls away from you, letting your body fall onto the mattress.
You whine, body wet with saliva, tears and come. Your glossy eyes look up at Simon as he stands above you, his uniform still on, wearing the skull-printed balaclava instead of the full mask he usually has on. His brown eyes look at the state of your body, before lifting to your face.
“Looks like I fucked that pussy good. Next time you try to tease me, I’ll fuck ya’ in front of the others, got it?” And even though his words sound harsh, he leans over, patting your butt a few times.
taglist ﹏ @ravensreadingrecs @tealee @dreamersentity @amourflores @filthgf @antlerlove @mimisitaugu @dreamcastgirl99 @whitemelanin @userhotd ( to be added )
( +18 ) mdni / small plot smut. afab!reader. fwb!roommate!dennis. slightly sub!dennis. sex without romantic feelings. praise. begging. light dirty-talking. bantering. cowgirl position. slight hair pulling. unprotected piv (reader on the pill). overstimulation. creampie & squirting. non-romantic intimacy.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
It had all truly started when you asked Dennis if he wanted to become your roommate a few months ago.
The poor guy was new to the city, secretly sleeping on a higher floor of the hospital and God, you had pitied him. Now… not so much anymore; he left his dirty clothes everywhere, ate all your avocados, fell asleep with the tv and the lights on like bills were free. It pisses you off so much that you are often grumpy in his presence.
But Dennis isn’t a bad person, no—he has a big heart, he is a great listener and God, he knows how to make you come like no one else before.
The first time it happened, you were both stressed out from a long shift and didn’t think much of it. Clothes flew in the air, the room got humid and the smell of sex was charged. And after that, instead of ignoring each other, you spoke; of how it could help with stress, how it didn’t mean anything romantically wise, how it was only from time to time.
And that’s how Dennis because your friend slash roommate with benefits. But the title didn’t mean that he suddenly stopped eating your avocados or turned the lights off before going to bed, no. It was as if nothing had changed between the two of you; so you had to make him understand that he should be a little bit more considerate toward you. But if Dennis couldn’t understand that with words, maybe he could during your not-so-friendly activities.
That’s how you found yourself riding his cock after dinner—the TV was on, playing a random movie that he had chosen for you both to watch.
Moans and whines echoed from both of your mouths, making the movie unable to truly be heard, but it wasn’t like Dennis cared at that moment. Juices from your sloppy pussy had dripped all the way down to his length just to stick at his balls. “Dennis, fuck… So good, your cock’s so good.” His hands, a tad timid, tried to search the fat of your hips to grab on it and pull you down on his hard shaft. The angry red mushroom tip of his was already kissing the velvety walls of your cunt.
Dennis’ head rolled onto the leather fabric of the couch, his body resting against the backrest. “Mhhfph, please… Please, go faster.” You heard him say, voice not the usual confidence he now used at work, so different from when he started out last year. You weren’t sure if you truly wanted to give him what he wanted; after all, this was a lesson for him. But your pleasure mattered more at the moment, and you nodded. “M’okay, wait…” You voiced at him, hands moving to his shoulders to keep yourself steady.
Your hips started to roll and bounce faster on his cock—cock that seemed to go so much deeper inside your warmth, tip hitting at your cervix as you changed to angle. “Fuck, yes! Right there!” You gasped, pain and pleasure mixed before you started to drag his fat cock against your inner wall just to feel his tip hit that sweet spot of yours.
Your hips rolled and lowered, his balls sticking to the skin of your ass at the movements due to the amount of wetness there. Loud squelching noises echoed from your pussy as his cock filled you again and again.
Dennis’ hands moved then, now grabbing at the fat of your thighs, his lips parted and pupils blown out. “Ah! Yes, please… Your pussy feels so good. Need more, please.” He begged you, making your walls clench around his shaft at the tone of his words. A gasp escaped him at the feeling and his blue eyes looked up to your face. His forehead was sweat-covered, curls resting there and sticking to his skin due to the efforts and activity.
His hips started to thrust up to meet your own when it lowered, his cock slamming inside your sloppy hole and nuzzling inside. You moaned at the feeling before harshly meeting him to bring them down. “No, no, Dennis. I told you not to move before, didn’t I?” Your words made him whine and squirm under the weight of your body, like his cock would explode if he didn’t move in the next three seconds.
His eyes were all teary as he nodded at you. “Yes—I know, but please… I promise to be good. I’ll wash my dirty clothes, and—I’ll stop eating your food.”
You very slowly rolled your hips against his own at the promise, your slick clit brush and rubbing against the hair above his penis. His grip tightened on your thighs like he wanted to move you faster, but he did nothing of the sort. “Promise to be a good boy?” You asked him, suddenly picking up the pace so his cock would be stimulated once more. It dragged all the way up and down to your gummy walls, his tip catching against the g-spot of your pussy with each thrust of your hips. Dennis gasped, his own hips jerking up to meet yours, slotting himself like he belonged there.
The nod of his head was frantic and a whine escaped him again. “Yeah, I… Fuck! Yes, I swear. I’ll be a good boy. Please, I just want to come.” He said, his voice all whiny and pathetic. You hummed, one of your hands moved between your thighs just so you could rub at your clit. It was all slick with wetness, a mess that had also migrated to your inner-thighs and around your puffy folds.
Dennis’ cock made a shlick noise each time it pushed back inside your wet pussy and his balls slapped to your ass, sticking there.
You rolled your fingers against your clit, hips moving uncoordinately now as you tried to bring yourself to climax. It was messy, fingers playing with your cunt, Dennis’ cock deep inside your gummy hole and your moans mixing in the space. His hips thrusted up after a moment to help you out and you pushed the fat of your pubic area against his own so your clit would rub there with each thrust. Your free hand moved to the back of Dennis’ head just to tug on the short hair there, making him moan at you.
“Please, I need to come… Please let me, ah!” He cried out and your pussy clenched around his fat, wet-slick cock.
Just like that, your orgasm coursed through your body, making you breathless. Moving your hips quite literally overstimulated you but you kept going, even though your muscles were now twitching. “Dennis, fuck! Right there, don’t stop!” You cried out at him, your fingers now back against your clit to rub it fast and Dennis’ hips jerked up faster, cock slamming inside you.
Your eyebrows furrowed as the pleasure ran throughout your entire body just to finish inside your cunt; making you squirt. A gasp left your mouth and Dennis cursed as hot juices from your pussy splashed onto his lower stomach and chest, leaking from his body to the leather couch. “Fuck, yes! Yes, yes, mhhpfh!” You cried out as squirt flowed out of you a bit more before Dennis gasped too, hips stilling with his cock deep inside you. His hips tugged you down so you wouldn’t move as he filled you up with his semen.
The both of you were now messy, sticky and way too tired to move. His hands moved from your hips to wrap around your sweat-covered back so you would lay on his chest. You hummed with contentment, not minding the mess at all; even though globs of his thick, creamy white come dripped out of your hole to finish on his balls and down to the couch.
The room was now filled with loud breathing and the smell of sex and sweat hit your noise. Dennis’ voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, I… I came inside you. I didn’t even think, I—” You stopped him, shaking your head so he would stop worrying so much. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill. I wouldn’t have let you come inside, otherwise.” He simply hummed at your words and a silence took over the humid, sex smelling room.
Then he spoke again, quieter. “It was… so fucking good. Really good.” You nodded your head at his words, nodding your head before lifting it to see his expression.
“You promised to not eat my food again, though, I remember that.” You voiced back at him and he chuckled, his eyes closed to relax. His cock was still in your sloppy hole, now softening slowly, though you felt him pulsate and twitch a few times.
come on! they’re all big, round, slightly sad. it’s a potent mixture for him to be treated as innocent and have a slight edge on coworkers. his eyes are rich, coated in apparent innocence…he always does everything right (he tries his best!).
fast forward, you’re in a position where he finally has a place to live in, to eat, to breathe—and it is showing. but you know what is still the same? his eyes. still big, still doe, eyeing someone with such innocence as if he’s naïve.
he’s anything but that.
those big eyes which makes him seem so pure to the world is a lie. you know it is, you’ve witnessed it. he is a liar.
you’re sat on his cock, slightly shaking and breathing after the heavy orgasm he pulled from you. his hands rest on your hips, gently massaging your soft skin, grounding you right back to the start.
as your eyes are still closed, he leans up, gently nuzzling his head into your neck. he pants into your shoulder, his hands on your hips becoming more firm. resolute.
“babe,” his head gently pushes yours, pushing your head up to look at him.
you give an owl blink, chest still slightly rising. he can still see your chest, nipples still slightly pebbled from all of the sucking he did. his dick is still hard.
“another?” he asks, eyes locking back onto yours intensely.
your eyebrows furrow, slightly squirming. “…i mean…i just came, den—“
“please?” his big eyes melt, gleaming under the bedroom light like a needy puppy. you should always spoil puppies, shouldn’t you?
you try not to let his eyes get you—you do still want more, heat coursing through your insides. but, still. he can’t win.
…after ten seconds, you’re defeated in the gaze of his eyes. you sigh in slight defeat, flushed, hands slowly placed back on his chest, moving up and down his chest and to his neck.
bingo.
“you’re so good to me, baby.” he moans quietly, raising you up on his cock, dropping you back down. his hands become more grabby, pulling your hips back onto him and he raises you up and down, and back again.
but—you’re already back to moaning. your head is thrown back, hands resting on his chest as if it gives you leverage. you look so beautiful.
…and, well, he thinks you should cum again after this time. he has to revel in your presence, your beauty. he can’t just do that in one round. not at all.
it’s decided. he doesn’t even have to worry—he’ll know you’ll comply. its the eyes! it works every-time.
✮ summary — when he left nebraska to begin a new life, dennis was forced to give up a lot of things that he held dear to his heart, including his emo phase… he couldn’t risk being bullied at college too. he doesn’t know how, but he made it. he’s an adult now, an employed adult, working as a doctor at the PTMC. but what happens when the cute new nurse looks a little too much like the online girlfriend he ghosted a decade ago?
✮ content warnings — nurse!reader who works the day shift, mostly crack, swearing, some nsfw mentions so mdni pls, dennis and reader dated for a couple months when they were eighteen, timeskip of 10 years, both of them are just down bad idk..
summary: The story of a cowgirl turned PTMC trauma worker who bonds with Dennis over shared farm roots and long shifts in the ER. From long-day vending machine confessions to a mechanical bull showdown, their connection grows steady and warm. Between dust, dance steps, and hospital chaos, they discover that maybe falling isn’t so bad... if you’ve got the right person beside you.
cw: fluff / slice-of-life!!!! fem!reader. hospital setting. trauma cases referenced (non-graphic). alcohol consumption (bar scenes). mechanical bull / minor falling. mild language. emotional themes (homesickness, burnout, post-shift heaviness). slight AU for Dennis' background. reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!
The first time Dennis realizes you are not just the quiet Southern girl who happens to work in trauma, it’s because of your hands.
PTMC is loud that afternoon (so loud that it almost gives him a migraine)—monitors chiming in overlapping rhythms, a trauma alert echoing down the hall, nurses moving with the choreography of people who have done this too many times to panic. Dennis is mid-explanation, walking a med student through suturing technique with Donnie, when he glances over at you. You’re scrubbed in beside him, sleeves pushed up, jaw set in calm concentration. There’s blood on your gloves, a faint crease between your brows, and absolutely no hesitation in your movements.
You hold the needle driver like it belongs to you; not delicately but steady and controlled. The kind of steady that doesn’t come from textbooks. It comes from experiences, from life.
Afterward, when you both step out to scrub down, Dennis studies you out of the corner of his eye. There’s something grounded about you, even when the department is on fire, you don’t rush. You don’t flail. You move like someone who has seen bigger storms than this. Like someone who is used to the most and the people being all around.
“Do you ever get stressed?” he asks, bumping the sink lever with his elbow. It’s genuine: because Dennis gets stressed all the damn time.
You glance up at him, water running over your fingers and down to your elbows, expression thoughtful for half a second. (You have always preferred washing your hands with soap rather than just hand sanitizer). “I’ve pulled a calf out at three in the morning in the middle of a thunderstorm,” you say simply, shrugging. “This place has air conditioning. I’ll manage.”
He stares at you, eyebrows raised up on his forehead. “You’ve done what?”
You shut off the water and reach for a tissue, studying him a little more closely now. “You didn’t grow up on a farm?”
Dennis gives you a look that’s almost offended at the fact that you don’t even remember that (he told you before, during a talk between two traumas). “Broken Bow, Nebraska,” he says. “Fourth-generation cattle farm. I can castrate a bull, mend a fence line, and reverse a trailer before sunrise.”
You pause mid-dry, surprise on your face. “You’re kidding? That’s cool.” That’s just cool that you understand him on the subject. Now you have more things in common than before.
“I left,” he adds, quieter now. “Went to college, med school. Didn’t go back.” There’s no self-pity in his voice. Just a fact. You lean your hip against the sink, reassessing him entirely. “You ever miss it?”
“Every day,” he admits, and it comes out easier than he expects. “But I wanted this, I always wanted this. Saving lives, being a Doctor.” You nod slowly, like you understand something deeper than the words, probably because you do. “Takes guts to leave,” you say. “Most folks just stay ‘cause it’s easier.” You think of a few people while saying those words.
He huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah… well. My dad still thinks I’ll come back and take over.”
“Maybe you will,” you shrug, smiling softly at him. “World’s funny like that.”
He watches you for a moment, noticing the faint rope-burn scars on your wrist, the way you stand like you’ve never once been afraid of hard work. He has seen that before; in his mom, in his fathers and even in his brothers. “What about you?” he asks. “You ever think about leaving for good?”
You smile, but it’s softer this time. “I did leave,” you say. “I’m here, ain’t I?” Something shifts between you then; not teasing, not banter but recognition. Something that makes you closer.
Two kids who grew up with dirt under their nails and decided to chase something bigger than the horizon they were handed. Dennis feels something in his chest settle into place after that conversation.
And that’s how it starts.
It turns out Dennis did grow up on a big farm with his family, really—and he spent summers at his grandparents’ place in rural Pennsylvania. Chickens pecking in the yard, a vegetable garden that swallowed him whole by August and a mule named Edith who, according to him, had it out for him personally.
You find this out at two in the morning, both of you leaning against the nurses’ station with paper cups of vending machine coffee that taste vaguely like regret. Both your shifts have been finished for hours now, but the work is never over when there’s files, labs, charts.
“Edith bit me once,” he says, finishing a sentence.
“She probably had her reasons,” you reply without looking up from your charting, a tiny amused expression on your face.
“I was seven.” He almost gasps at you.
“Still.”
He watches you smile faintly at your own comment, now. There’s a silver chain around your neck, no charm attached, just resting against your collarbone. You always smell faintly of leather and cherry chapstick beneath the hospital soap, and he has no idea how that’s possible but it’s there every time. You remind him of his girl friends from Broken Bow when he was nothing but a boy.
“You still ride?” he asks after a pause. Your pen stills and your expression softens, just a fraction. “When I can,” you say. “There’s a stable outside the city. Ain’t home, but it’ll do.”
He nods slowly. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was twelve.”
“You ever fall?” You ask, lifting your eyes up to look at him, genuine and curious. There’s no hint of mocking or teasing in your expression; because of course you fell before too. And you still do to this day. “Immediately.” He voices back at you.
You grin, now. “Everybody falls. Question is whether you get back on.” He narrows his eyes, hands crossed onto the station. “Do you always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re narrating a country song.”
You bump his shoulder lightly with yours, amused at these words. “You always overthink everything?”
“…Yes.”
“Figures.”
From that night on, it becomes a quiet routine. The ED farm duo, as Trinity starts calling you both. Between traumas and consults, you trade stories. He tells you about canning tomatoes with his grandmother in a kitchen that always smelled like vinegar and basil. You tell him about fence posts that had to be reset after every bad storm and the way the sky turns green right before hail.
He listens to you in a way most people don’t. Just genuinely interested.
And you notice.
The night the mechanical bull happens, it’s been a shift from hell. Three traumas back-to-back. One pediatric case that sits heavy in everyone’s chest. By the time someone suggests drinks, no one argues. Jack had needed to come on the day, and when it’s late in the night, he’s with the rest of you too. You don’t know him much, but Dennis seems to look up to the attending like he does with Robby.
The bar is loud and dim, neon beer signs buzzing against dark wood walls. You’re in worn jeans and boots. Dennis can picture you wearing a cowboy hat if he thinks about it hard. You look more relaxed out of scrubs, but no less solid.
He’s halfway through his second beer when Donnie points toward the corner.
“Oh no,” Dennis mutters. You follow their gaze. There it is: a mechanical bull, surrounded by cheering strangers and questionable decisions. Your entire face lights up and a gasp escapes your mouth.
Dennis recognizes that look immediately. It’s the same one you get before taking on a difficult procedure; focused, excited and a little dangerous (very dangerous). “Don’t,” he says, warning you like he knows about your thoughts. You tilt your head. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t even think about it.” You set your beer in his hand before he can protest. “Hold this.”
“We’ve had a long day… You’re going to hurt yourself. I’m serious.” Dennis just says, your hand in his left hand and his own in the right one. He looks a bit lost for a second, knowing that you won’t listen to him for nothing in the world. Can you help yourself? The voices of Trinity, Perlah and Princess are encouraging you on the side, while Dana and Robby are rolling their eyes.
“So am I.” You only reply before walking toward the bull with that easy confidence, boots hitting the sticky floor like it’s just another barn. The operator raises his eyebrows. “You ever ridden one of these?”
You don’t answer, you just swing a leg over and settle into place like you’ve been doing it your whole life.
Dennis feels his pulse spike; is it stress, is it fondness, is it something else? He doesn’t know.
The machine starts slow; you don’t grip desperately or lean stiffly, you move with it. Fluid and balanced like you know how to. Your thighs tighten naturally, one hand firm on the strap, the other lifted loosely in the air. When the bull jerks, you adjust. When it spins, you lean. It looks less like you’re trying to stay on and more like you’re dancing. The bar is filled with whistles and encouragement now, making you smile.
The operator increases the speed and you grin wider, eyes sparkling.
“Holy—” Dennis breathes.
You stay on. Eight seconds, ten and even fifteen. The crowd grows louder, but you don’t seem to hear them. You’re laughing, hair flying around your face, completely in your element. Your body is following the movement of the mechanical bull, and you close your eyes for a second.
When you finally let yourself fall, it’s deliberate. You land on the mat with a breathless laugh that echoes across the bar, people clapping at you before turning their attention away, finally. Dennis is already there, pushing through the small crowd. He offers you his hand. “You okay?” he asks, voice half-worried, half-awed.
You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your palm is warm, calloused, familiar. “Whitaker,” you say, cheeks flushed, “that thing barely tried.” Your eyes are wide, you can feel your cheeks burning from the effort.
He stares at you like he’s just discovered something extraordinary. “You’re insane.”
“You like it.”
He doesn’t deny it.
A few weeks later, he finds himself standing awkwardly at the stable you mentioned. The one out of the city. You’re already there, brushing down a bay mare with slow, affectionate strokes. The late afternoon sun casts everything in gold, dust floating in the air like tiny sparks.
“You came,” you say, surprise flickering across your face before it melts into something softer.
“I was curious,” he replies, his cheeks flushing pink and eyes looking away, a bit shy. You raise an eyebrow. “About horses or about me?”
“…Both.”
You grin and hand him a helmet. “Alright, farm boy. Let’s see what you remember.”
He’s stiff at first, mounting carefully while you steady the stirrup. When he settles into the saddle, you step closer to adjust his posture, your hand brushing his knee. “Relax,” you murmur. “They feel what you feel, you know that.”
“That’s… a mildly terrifying thing to remember.” You laugh quietly, shaking your head at his words. “Trust her.”
The horse begins to walk. Dennis inhales sharply, then exhales as the rhythm steadies. You walk alongside him for a while before swinging up onto your own horse in one smooth motion that makes him blink. He doesn’t say it but riding horses had never been his favorite thing, honestly. “You make that look too easy,” he calls.
“It is easy,” you reply. “When you’re not fightin’ it.” He watches you ride ahead slightly, sunlight catching in your hair, posture straight and natural. You look like you belong here in a way you don’t always let yourself look in the hospital. For the first time, he thinks he understands something about you.
You’re not restless, you’re rooted.
Back at PTMC, the farm duo label sticks harder than ever. You bring homemade jerky one shift and drop it on the table he is sitting at, without explanation. He brings in his mom’s pickle recipe printed neatly on cardstock because if we’re committing to this theme, we’re doing it properly. You swore he called her just for that, but don’t ask about it.
After a brutal shift, you both sit on the hospital steps in the quiet dark. The city hums in the distance, but it’s softer here. “You ever miss it?” he asks gently. “Like… really?” His voice is quiet, like the memories are too loud in his head.
“Every day,” you admit. “Miss the quiet, miss the way mornings start before the sun and end when the work’s done, miss knowin’ exactly what needs fixin’.” You reply to him, head turning to look at his face for a second before your eyes shift once more.
He nods. “You’re good at this, though.”
“At what?”
“Here, the hospital, people.” You look at him, expression thoughtful. “I guess patchin’ things up ain’t that different. Just… different species.” There’s a tiny smile on your face. He laughs softly and you swear your heart skips a beat.
Your shoulder leans against his, you can almost feel the warmth of his skin against yours under your scrubs. There’s a silence taking over now.
Dennis stays beside you, not moving away.
The county fair happens a month later. You drag him toward the livestock pens first, critiquing prize cattle with alarming seriousness together, joking and smiling. You demolish him at ring toss, though. He wins you a cheap stuffed cow anyway, looking absurdly proud of himself.
When the live band starts up near the food stalls, you don’t hesitate. You grab his hand and pull him toward the open space in front of the stage, all excited about this one moment. “Do you know how to two-step?” you ask.
“Who do you take me for? Of course. But uh… It’s been time, so…”
You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Guess I’ll have to show you, then.” You guide him through it patiently, hands warm against his, boots moving in time. He stumbles once and twice. You laugh, not unkindly. You wonder if he truly doesn’t remember or if he just wanted to be close to you. “See?” you murmur when he finally catches the rhythm. “Everybody falls.”
He looks slightly up at you, flushed and smiling, and realizes he doesn’t mind falling at all, not if it’s with you.
And under the fair lights, with country music humming through warm summer air and your laughter brushing against him like wind across an open field, Dennis decides that maybe being a farm boy isn’t such a bad thing.
Especially if it means getting to stand beside a girl who rides storms like they’re nothing—and still chooses to stay.
i'm sure yous can tell from my blog theme, but i am very much into rdr2. i'm only about 25% through a current playthrough (despite having 60 odd hours) because i get so sidetracked with exploring the map and interacting with npc quests LMFAO. these are for my fellow cowboy lovers and arthur morgan enthusiasts hehe !!!
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