c/w ᝰ.ᐟ post op/sports injuries, pet names (baby, pretty, pretty girl, my girl + no y/n), weed/smoking, intox, possessive!garrett, unprotected p in v, praise, overstim, needy!/clingy!garrett + language
You’re still standing in the doorway when Garrett looks up from the joint between his fingers, eyes closing for a second, a grin pulling at his mouth like you’re exactly what he’s been waiting for.
“There she is,” he mutters.
Three weeks post-op and finally cleared for light activity this morning. No skating yet. No lifting. No contact. No drug testing for another couple weeks either.
He’s been restless for days now—sleeping upright, on a never-ending loop of painkillers, ice packs, physical therapy, and everybody telling him what he could and couldn’t do.
Garrett Graham immediately decided to break his rigorous routine and indulge mid-season for once in his whole-damn life.
The second one of the boys handed him a joint downstairs, he was texting you with a dopey grin like the whole night was playing out in his head.
Now he’s sprawled across his bed shirtless and high, sling still strapped around his shoulder, gold chain catching against his chest while black curls fall messily into his eyes.
His brown eyes already look heavy, lingering on you slow enough to make you feel it.
“You gonna keep starin’ at me like that,” he asks, smoke curling from his mouth, “or are you gonna come here so I can finally touch you again?”
You smirk as you step closer, taking in this rare sight as he relaxes further against the headboard, joint tucked between his fingers while he watches you come closer.
His hand rests on your bare thigh the second you get close enough to touch, his grip tightening immediately.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says quietly, slapping your ass like a warning but he was just looking for an excuse.
“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, baby—”
You laugh under your breath, climbing carefully into his lap so you don’t bump his shoulder. Your lips curl into a smile, feeling him stiff already, hard between your thighs just like he told you over text when he was telling you to hurry up and stop teasing him. He was done waiting.
“Bullshit,” he snorts, his hand settling against you with a squeeze. “Sendin’ me pictures all day while I’m stuck here like some pathetic loser for you—you love it.”
You giggle harder, fingers sliding into his damp, dark curls. His head falls back to the headboard with a thump, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He smells good—his signature cologne and a fresh shower mixing with the weed, making your head go a little fuzzy. You rest your hands on him, his tanned skin warm under your palms.
“I was busy—”
“Too busy for me, huh?” He grins and you roll your eyes. “You ignored me for four hours.”
“Never too busy for you,” you breathe as you dip in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I was studying—”
“Shoulda been studyin’ this dick,” he laughs as the room clouds a little around him.
“Such a slut, Garrett.”
“You’ve got no clue,” he answers honestly, shaking his head. “Dreamt about you three nights straight.”
“Yeah?” You ask as you cup his cheeks in your hands, thumb brushing along his lip, stubble rough on your palms. “So have I.”
He kisses you again, smoke still clinging to his mouth, one hand sliding up the back of your shirt while the other squeezes you.
“Sorry for teasing you—”
“Awful liar. You know that?” His grin widens before you gasp when his big hand pushes under your skirt, fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh. “You sent me that picture and disappeared.”
You laugh breathlessly, rolling your hips to tease and he moans into your mouth.
“It’s almost like my girl knew I was gettin’ cleared today.”
“Been counting down the day,” you whisper sweetly against his mouth.
“You still wearing it?” He asks as he draws back.
“Thought you’d like it.”
“Like it?” Garrett laughs breathlessly. “I’ve been losing my mind over you all damn day. Love when you wear black.”
He takes a deep breath as you look back at him through the smokey haze. His gaze falls to the button between your breasts, locking with yours before he nods. You take his cue, pinching it between your fingers, popping it open, then the next.
He watches every inch of skin, teeth biting into his bottom lip as you let the shirt fall off your shoulders, flicking it off his bed.
“Holy shit,” he breathes out, his grip on you tightening, swallowing hard. “You’re my favorite thing—so fucking perfect for me,” he sucks in a breath as you reach behind your back, unclipping your bra, his eyes fixed on your chest.
He leans closer, hot and wet as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking at you slowly while his hand pinches and pulls your panties to the side. His breath fans against your skin, the heat of him dizzying as he whines softly into your tits.
You whimper softly when his fingers finally slide between your thighs. “Goddamn,” he mutters. “You’re wet already. Gettin’ off on teasing me.”
“Maybe,” you smile as he takes another hit, shivering when his fingers drag through you.
“Maybe?” He laughs under his breath. “You’re just as desperate as I am—”
“I am,” you answer without hesitation as your hand presses against his cock over his sweats, palming him slowly through the fabric. “You gonna keep watchin’ me like that, Graham,” you ask, taking the joint from him, “or are you gonna let me have it.”
“Damn, baby—‘Course,” he answers, his voice raspy and deep as he lifts his hips a little, pulling down his sweats with a single hand, watching your mouth as you take a hit of your own.
You wrap your fingers quickly around his cock, pumping slowly, feeling yourself throb. His hand holds the back of your neck, pulling you close, lips barely brushing yours while you exhale between them.
He barely lets you pull away before he’s kissing you again, slower this time. “Fuck, pretty,” he says quietly against your mouth, tasting the weed and your sugary lip gloss. “You taste so damn good—so sweet.” His thumb drags across your thigh again. “Obsessed with it.”
His mouth lingers close to yours as you stroke, trying to keep his eyes lifted but he’s so mellowed out.
“I feel so damn good right now,” he mutters. Your fingers slide through his curls carefully and his whole body softens underneath you.
You lift up on your knees, panties still pushed to the side, teasing the tip of his cock with your sex, making him release a pathetic whine for more. His shoulders fall as he exhales, feeling you tighten around him.
You rest the joint between his lips and he takes a rip, his eyes fluttering shut as he exhales when you widen your thighs, taking all of him.
“Perfect fucking pussy,” he slurs against your mouth, pinching your chin between his fingers, kissing you softly.
You shift your weight and he curses under his breath, his hands tightening on your hips as you circle them.
"That's it," he breathes, his hands guiding you gently. "Easy, baby. Just like that."
Your nails dig into his chest as you begin to move, slow and steady at first, your body finding its rhythm while his muscles tense beneath your palms, his mouth falling open.
"Fuck," he exhales sharply when you grab the rung of his headboard, riding him, your hips finding a deeper rhythm. "You move like you were made for me."
“I am,” you whisper, and he sighs, tapping out the ash before he pinches it between his lips again.
“Missed your pussy,” he mumbles, still breathless. “Feels so much better than my hand. Oh my god.”
He smiles when he feels your thighs start to tremble, your wet warmth tightening around him.
“Gonna cum for me?” He asks, all low and raspy, and you nod frantically. “Come on, baby. Cum all over me.”
His hand slaps and kneads your ass, guiding your rhythm with his tight grip, your hands squeezing the headboard to keep from clawing at his bare skin. Your pussy tightens around him, pulling broken sounds from him loud enough that everyone in the house probably heard it—but he couldn’t care less.
“Baby,” he says quietly, lips and teeth grazing your neck. “You takin’ such good care of me.”
You take another hit when he passes it back, your hips still rocking on top of him as he fights to keep his eyes focused on yours.
“From the back? Hands and knees, baby. Can you help me out?” His words are needy and broken—pussy-drunk and he hasn’t even cum yet.
“Of course,” you whisper, dragging him out of you with a whimper, dropping to the mattress as he sets the joint back in the ashtray, fighting with his sweats, tugging the rest of the way down his thighs, his eyes focused on your warmth.
Garrett reaches for the hem of your skirt immediately, shoving the fabric up your waist impatiently, throat working as he swallows hard.
Your hands twist in the sheets and your knees dip into the bed, back arching, hips lifted, giving him a view that hauls a moan from deep in his chest.
His palm lands hard against your skin before he spreads you open with a low whistle, eyes fixed on how wet he got you.
“M’gonna try not to lose it,” he mumbles just under his breath, his lip tucked between his teeth when you look over your shoulder.
He’s holding his thick length in his hand, stroking himself as he looks down at you, slapping the tip of his cock against the soft curve of you.
“Please, baby,” you whisper, the sound of your begging making his eyes roll back, his head lulling to the ceiling.
You cry out when he thrusts in rough and hard. His hand clamps down on your waist, dragging you back against him hard enough to make your body bounce.
“You’re squeezin’ me… You’re gonna—” he chokes out, dragging back before thrusting deeper, eyes fixed where he disappears into you. “You’re gonna empty me out.”
You moan, your body falling forward when he presses down, toned hips snapping against your skin again and again, making the headboard thump against the wall.
His hand slides back, circling your curves before he grabs your panties in his fist, tugging them to the side, using the grip to pull you back against him deeper.
“You know how perfect you are? Takin’ me so deep… Lookin’ this fucking good?” He asks, seemingly hypnotized by the way you move for him with every rough clap, chasing every fucked-out cry you make, as your fists twist tight in the sheets.
The knot in your stomach starts to tighten, each rut driving you closer and closer to the edge, your body pushing back against him now, meeting him stroke for stroke as his hand squeezes tighter.
“Yeah, baby,” he pants. “You gonna cum with me? Been dreaming about this—let me have it.”
“Fuck,” your voice comes out in a hoarse cry as your pussy pulses around his cock again.
“Good girl. Make a mess on me,” he grits through his teeth, trying to hold out, fucking into you deep with thick, sticky ropes of cum spilling inside you.
He grins, cock still twitching, both your thighs slick with your shared release. “Shit, pretty girl,” he pants, reaching up to rub his hands over his red-rimmed eyes.
You gasp and giggle as he reaches his free arm down, wrapping it around your throat in a lazy headlock, pulling you up onto your knees for a kiss, your body still full of him.
A soft breath leaves you against his mouth as he smiles lazily, nose nudging against yours before he kisses you again, slow and deep, the high settling.
“Missed my girl.”
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pairing: garrett graham x girlfriend!reader, dean di laurentis x reader
synopsis: adrenaline can be difficult to shake off after a game like the one they just had. maybe that's why garrett is being careless and taking care of his girl while dean is right in the bathroom. and maybe that's why dean doesn't immediately run away from the hotel room as he should.
words: 6k+
disclaimer: english is not my first language!
warnings: there's very little plot. smut!!! my very first time writing a threesome, i apologise! fingering, getting caught, p in v (unprotected). no description of reader, no use of Y/N, the pictures are only for aesthetic purposes. third person. oral (m receiving, double blowjob). doggy style, cowgirl. dom!garrett, soft!garrett, dom!reader (???), somewhat of a sub!dean but not exactly. dean calls you princess, garrett calls you baby. this is my decision. dirty talk all around!! good girl!reader. you know the deal, not proofread.
chye's corner: only 3 off campus drafts remain... the title, larry stylinson anyone? room 517. and that's all i'm going to say (even if there's literally nothing in common). i just want to remind you that REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! pls consider a reblog, a like, or a comment! thank you for choosing to read my words (((:
chye's grimoire (masterlist)
requests are open!
On the fourth floor of the latest hotel they’d been sent to, the room Garrett and Dean were sharing was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of traffic far below. It was a standard away-game setup, two queen beds separated by a nightstand, soft lighting from the lamps, and the curtains half-drawn over the city view. Garrett was lying down on the bed closest to the window with his eyes closed, shirtless in just a pair of black sweats, one arm tucked behind his head. Dean lounged on the other bed, scrolling through his phone in a hoodie and gym shorts he’d changed into without showering the sweat off.
“Bro, that hit in the second period? I swear the guy saw his life flash before his eyes,” Dean laughed, still riding the high.
Garrett grinned, stretching, and opened his eyes. “Had to remind them who runs this league. You weren’t exactly subtle either with that last assist. Show-off.”
“Me? Never,” Dean shot back with a smirk. “Just doing my job. Someone’s gotta make you look good out there.”
She smiled to herself hearing the conversation and rolled her eyes at the useless testosterone display as she finished freshening up in the bathroom. The hot shower had felt amazing after a long night at the arena. She changed into her soft silk pajama set, a little navy camisole and matching shorts, and stepped out, towel-drying the ends of her damp hair.
Dean looked up first and grinned. “Finally. I thought you drowned in there or something,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “You were in that bathroom for like twenty minutes.”
She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Some of us actually wash ourselves. Sorry I didn’t want to smell like popcorn and beer.”
Garrett turned his head toward her, and his expression softened instantly. A small pout formed on his lips as he took her in. “You changed,” he said, voice quieter than Dean’s, almost disappointed. “You were wearing my shirt earlier.”
She walked over to his bed, the carpet soft under her bare feet. “As much as I love wearing your hoodie, it isn’t exactly what I would sleep in.”
Garrett reached out and gently caught her hand, tugging her closer until she was standing between his knees. His thumb brushed softly over her knuckles affectionately. “But I like you in my clothes,” he murmured, looking up at her with that familiar, gentle gaze he saved only for her. “Especially after a win. You looked like a cute little cheerleader.”
She smiled and ran her fingers through his messy hair. “You’re such a baby sometimes.”
He leaned forward and pressed a slow, soft kiss to her stomach through the thin silk, his hands settling warmly on her hips. “I’m your baby,” he corrected, voice low and sweet. He rested his forehead against her for a moment, breathing her in. “Come here.”
She climbed onto the bed and settled beside him. Garrett immediately wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her close so her head rested on his chest. His skin was warm, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her lower back.
Dean cringed visibly and watched them from the other bed with an amused smirk, but there was no mockery in it. “You two are disgusting you know that?” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely no pity for me.”
Garrett didn’t even look at him, just held her a little tighter. “Jealous?”
“A little,” Dean admitted with a laugh. “But mostly nauseous. Get a room, guys… wait, you already have one. And I’m stuck in it.”
She giggled softly against Garrett’s chest. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her neck, thumb stroking tenderly along her hairline. The room felt warm and comfortable, the post-game adrenaline slowly shifting into something softer and more intimate.
Garrett tilted her chin up gently and kissed her slowly. His soft lips were just expressing how much he loved her without any words needed. When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper against her lips. “Missed you during the game,” he said. “Kept thinking about coming back here to you.”
One of her eyebrows shot up. “Garrett… I was literally in the stands.”
“Not close enough,” he shrugged.
She nestled closer into Garrett’s side, her cheek pressed against the solid warmth of his bare chest. His arm stayed wrapped securely around her, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along her spine through the thin silk of her camisole.
Dean let out a long, dramatic sigh from the other bed. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Remind me again why I switched room with Logan?”
Garrett chuckled softly, the sound rumbling under her ear. He didn’t loosen his hold on her. “Cry harder,” Garrett teased. “Maybe next game they’ll finally give you your own room.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, rolling off his bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower before I throw up from how sweet you two are. Try not to fuck while I’m in there, alright? These walls are thin.” He grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a loud click.
The moment the door shut, the energy in the room shifted. Garrett’s hand slid lower on her back, slipping just under the hem of her camisole to touch bare skin. His closeness felt more… intentional, somehow. His touch was still gentle, but there was heat behind it now.
He tilted her chin up with two fingers, his blue eyes soft but darkening with want as he looked at her. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, voice low. “I was thinking about you the whole game. Every time I got hit, all I wanted was to come back here and feel you.”
He kissed her deeply, his lips warm and unhurried. One big hand cradled the side of her face as his tongue gently teased hers. She melted into it, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest and abs, feeling the faint ridges of old bruises.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “I love when you wear these little pajamas,” he whispered, his hand sliding down to cup her ass through the silk shorts. “But I still wish you were in my shirt. Nothing looks better on you than my name.”
She smiled, brushing her nose against his. “You’re really stuck on that, huh?”
“Mhm.” He kissed her again, slower this time, then trailed his lips along her jaw to her neck. His breath was warm against her skin as he gently sucked on the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her shiver.
His hand moved between them, slipping under her camisole to cup her breast, thumb brushing lazily over her nipple until it hardened under his touch. The touch was soft, but his breathing was getting heavier.
“Garrett…” she whispered slightly worried, pressing closer.
“I know Dean’s right there,” he murmured against her throat, voice husky. “But I need you, baby. Been thinking about being inside you since the final buzzer.”
He rolled them slightly so she was half underneath him, one thick thigh pressing between hers. His hand continued its gentle exploration, sliding down her stomach and dipping just under the waistband of her silk shorts. His fingers brushed lightly over her, teasing, feeling how warm and soft she was. “I’ll be quiet,” he breathed, kissing her again, deeper this time. “Just let me touch you… let me make you feel good. You know this ‘s gonna be quick.” He winked.
He kissed her again languidly, swallowing her soft sigh as his middle finger gently traced along her slit. “Shh, baby,” he whispered against her lips, voice low and husky. “You have to stay quiet for me. Dean’s right in the bathroom… we can’t let him hear.”
She nodded, biting her lip as his finger slowly parted her folds. He took his time, stroking her with feather-light touches, spreading the slickness that had already gathered. The pad of his finger circled her clit lazily, drawing gentle, teasing patterns that made her hips twitch. “Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Just breathe through it. Let me take care of you.”
He dipped lower and slowly pushed one thick finger inside her. The stretch was delicious, just what she needed. He curled it gently, stroking along her inner walls with sensual precision, feeling every flutter and clench around him. His palm pressed against her clit as he worked her slowly, pumping in and out with unhurried strokes.
She buried her face into his neck, muffling a whimper against his skin. The sensation of his thick finger moving inside her, combined with the heat of his body pressed against hers, made her tremble.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” Garrett breathed, barely audible. He added a second finger, stretching her a little more. The slow drag of both fingers sliding in and out of her soaked pussy was torture. He scissored them gently, exploring her, curling them upward to press against that sensitive spot inside her with every careful thrust.
Her breathing grew shaky. She gripped his shoulder tightly, nails digging into his skin as she fought to stay quiet. A tiny, broken sound escaped her anyway.
Garrett’s free hand came up to cradle the back of her head, pressing her face more firmly into the crook of his neck. “Quiet, baby,” he soothed, voice rough with arousal even as his fingers kept their slow rhythm. “I know it feels good… I can feel how tight you’re getting around my fingers. But you can’t moan like that. Not yet.”
He angled his hand slightly, pressing deeper while his thumb found her clit again, rubbing slow, firm circles in time with the thrusting of his fingers. The dual sensation, his thick fingers stroking inside her while his thumb worked her clit, sent warm waves of pleasure rolling through her body.
She panted softly against his neck, her hips rolling subtly against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving her. Every slow thrust of his fingers made wet, quiet sounds beneath the silk of her shorts. Her thighs trembled, clenching around his wrist as the pressure built.
“That’s it,” Garrett whispered, kissing the top of her head tenderly even as his fingers continued their never-ending teasing. “Just let go, yeah? I’ve got you.”
The wet sounds of his thick fingers moving through her slickness were barely audible under the hum of the air conditioner. He kept her face tucked into his neck, one hand gently stroking her hair while the other worked between her thighs. “You’re getting soooo tight, baby,” he whispered lovingly against her ear. “Does that feel good? Just my fingers stretching this pretty pussy?”
She nodded frantically against his skin, biting down on her lip to stay quiet. Her hips rolled in tiny, desperate circles, chasing the slow pleasure he was giving her.
Just then, the bathroom door clicked open. Her eyes shot open.
Dean stepped out wearing nothing but a white towel slung low around his hips. He froze mid-step when he saw them, her pressed against Garrett’s chest, Garrett’s hand clearly moving under her silk shorts. “Woah, okay!” Dean exclaimed, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes. “My bad, my bad! I definitely just walked in on something I shouldn’t have.” He peeked through his fingers, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Jesus, Graham. Couldn’t even wait ‘till I was asleep?“
At the exact moment her eyes landed on Dean, something shifted unequivocally.
Water still clung to his broad shoulders and chest, slowly tracing glistening paths down the defined ridges of his abs. The white towel hung dangerously low on his hips, revealing the sharp V-lines that disappeared beneath the fabric. His hair was damp and tousled, a few droplets sliding down the side of his neck. Her body betrayed her instantly.
Her pussy clenched hard around Garrett’s thick fingers, a deep, involuntary spasm that made her inner walls flutter and squeeze greedily. A fresh rush of warm wetness flooded around his knuckles, coating his hand as her slick heat pulsed rhythmically.
Garrett noticed immediately.
He let out a low, amused breath against her neck, his fingers still buried deep inside her. “Whoa… what was that, baby?” he whispered, voice soft and teasing, though she could hear the dark delight underneath. He curled his fingers slowly, pressing against that sensitive spot as he felt her continue to throb around him. “Your pussy just told me something very interesting.”
She buried her flushed face into the crook of his neck again, embarrassed heat blooming across her cheeks, but her hips gave a tiny, helpless roll against his hand.
Garrett chuckled quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple while his fingers continued their slow, sensual strokes. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured lovingly, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You don’t have to hide it from me. I felt every little pulse. You got so much wetter just looking at him fresh out of the shower.”
Dean, still with his hand over his eyes, laughed quietly. “Well damn,” he said, voice light but growing huskier. “Did I just cause a reaction over there? Is that what’s happening over there? I can’t see, but I must say that’s a little flattering, princess.”
Garrett’s fingers kept moving, drawing quiet, wet sounds from between her thighs as he kept her tucked against his chest. “Tell him the truth, baby,” Garrett whispered teasingly against her ear, nipping gently at her lobe. “Tell Dean what your pussy just did when you saw him.”
The blonde slowly lowered his hand from his eyes, the playful smirk on his face deepening as he watched them. Droplets of water still rolled lazily down his chest, catching the low lamplight before disappearing into the edge of the towel.
She finally met Dean’s gaze, embarrassed but unbearably aroused. Her walls fluttered again around his fingers as another rush of wetness coated his hand. “I… I couldn’t help it,” she breathed, voice shaky. “You looked so… slutty. The towel. I just…”
Dean let out a low, amused chuckle, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. The towel clung to his hips, doing very little to hide the growing bulge beneath it. “Aw, princess,” he said, tone playful but his eyes darkening with heat. “You really liked the view that much? That’s cute as hell.”
Garrett smiled against her temple and slowly withdrew his fingers from her dripping heat. She felt empty for a moment, her pussy clenching around nothing. He brought his glistening fingers up to her lips. “Open,” he whispered.
She obeyed, tasting herself on his fingers as he slid them into her mouth. The sweet, musky flavor coated her tongue while Garrett watched her with hooded eyes.
Dean’s gaze was locked on her as well, the smirk fading into something more intense. Garrett pulled his fingers from her mouth and kissed her deeply, tasting her arousal on her tongue. When he pulled back, his voice had grown rougher. “Get up, baby.”
She slid off the bed on slightly unsteady legs. Garrett stood behind her, tall and solid, his hands settling on her waist. He guided her forward until she stood right in front of Dean.
She looked up at Dean, heart pounding. The scent of his fresh shower gel mixed with the clean, masculine smell of his skin filled her senses. Without thinking, she rose onto her toes, placed her hands on his warm, damp chest, and kissed him.
The first touch was tentative, soft lips brushing, testing. Then Dean exhaled against her mouth and tilted his head, deepening the kiss with unhurried curiosity. His lips were thinner and slightly warmer than Garrett’s, moving with the confidence of a man who knew what he was doing, but was trying to rein himself in. He tasted faintly of mint and something uniquely him.
He kissed her like he was discovering her, gently sucking on her bottom lip, then teasing it with the tip of his tongue before sliding inside. His tongue moved differently, more playful and curious, stroking against hers in long caresses, retreating only to return with a gentle flick or a teasing swirl. One of his hands cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone, while the other rested on her lower back, pulling her closer until her body pressed against his mostly-naked, heated skin.
It felt new. Different. Exciting in its unfamiliarity. Every slow movement of his mouth and tongue felt like a question, learning how she liked to be kissed, savoring her reactions. When she let out a tiny, involuntary sound, Dean smiled against her lips and kissed her deeper.
While she was still lost in the newness of Dean’s kiss, Garrett moved in closer from behind.
His tall, muscular body pressed flush against her back, the heat of his bare chest searing through the thin silk of her camisole. She felt the hard ridge of his erection nestling firmly between her ass cheeks, his strong hands gripping her hips as he kissed the side of her neck with slow, open-mouthed kisses.
She was deliciously caught between them.
Dean’s warm, still-damp chest pressed against her front, while Garrett’s hotter body molded against her back. The contrast in their scents, their heat, and their touch made her head spin. Dean’s fresh shower smell mixed with Garrett’s deeper, more familiar, masculine scent, surrounded her completely.
Dean slowly pulled back from her lips, his eyes dark with lust. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and began kissing her chest. His warm lips trailed along the swell of her breasts, visible above the neckline of her camisole. He kissed the soft skin tenderly at first, then used his tongue, tasting her as he slowly dragged it along the curve of one breast.
She gasped softly, arching into his mouth.
Garrett’s grip on her hips tightened from behind, his voice low and rough against her ear.
“On your knees, baby.”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through her. He gave her hips a light but firm squeeze, guiding her down. She slowly sank to her knees on the soft carpet between them. Both men towered over her now. Garrett shirtless in his sweats, eyes dark with lust, and Dean in nothing but a towel that was doing a poor job of hiding how hard he already was.
Garrett reached down and gently stroked her hair, his voice softer again but still carrying that edge of dominance. “She’s a good girl, isn’t she?”
Her boyfriend was the first to move. He pushed his sweats down just enough to free his thick cock, already leaking at the tip. He wrapped a hand around the base and guided it toward her mouth.
“Open,” he said, voice low and commanding.
She parted her lips obediently and he pushed forward, sliding his cock deep into her mouth in one smooth motion. Garrett didn’t ease her into it. He held the back of her head firmly and started fucking her mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, pushing toward the back of her throat.
“Fuck… that’s it,” Garrett groaned, eyes half-lidded. “Take it deeper, baby. Let me feel that throat.”
She moaned around him, eyes watering slightly as she tried to relax her throat. The velvety weight of him stretched her lips wide, and the salty taste of his precum coated her tongue with every thrust.
Dean watched for a moment, then let out a low whistle.“Damn, Garrett. You’re not playing around tonight,” he said with a amused chuckle. He tugged his towel off, letting it drop to the floor. His cock sprang free, curving slightly upward.
Dean stepped closer and gently tapped his cock against her cheek. “My turn, princess. Don’t forget about me.”
Garrett reluctantly pulled out of her mouth, a string of spit connecting her lips to his glistening cock. She turned her head and took Dean into her mouth next. He was slightly thicker, but not longer than Garrett’s, and she had to stretch her jaw wider to accommodate him.
Dean groaned. “There we go… fuck, look at those pretty lips wrapped around me. You’re doing so good, princess.”
He let her set the pace at first, gently rocking his hips while she bobbed on his cock, sucking and swirling her tongue around the head. But then he grinned down at her. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Take a little more for me,” he teased, pushing just a bit deeper. “That’s my girl. You look so cute with your mouth full.”
Garrett stroked himself slowly as he watched her suck Dean. Then he grabbed her hair and guided her back to his cock.“Back to me,” he ordered, voice rougher. He pushed back into her mouth and immediately started thrusting deeper, more intensely than before. “Good fucking girl. Suck harder.”
She alternated between them, saliva dripping down her chin as she worked both cocks. When she was on Garrett, he was possessive and intense, holding her head steady, fucking her throat with deep, controlled strokes while praising her in a low, gravelly voice.
“That’s it. Choke on it, baby. You can take me.”
When she switched to Dean, he was more… wicked and teasing, lightly tapping her cheek with his cock when she pulled off to breathe, grinning down at her.
“Aw, look at you gasping for air. Too much cock for you, princess?” he teased, then groaned as she sucked him back in. “Yeahhh, just like that. You’re such a greedy little thing tonight.”
Garrett looked down at her with hungry eyes, thumb brushing her stretched lips. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then louder, “Keep going, baby. Show Dean how well you take care of us.”
At one point she had both of them close together, licking and sucking the heads of their cocks at the same time, her tongue swirling around them messily. Garrett’s hand tightened in her hair while Dean let out a breathy laugh.
“Fuck, man… your girl really knows what she’s doing,” Dean said, voice strained with pleasure but still amused.
“Mmm… you’re so thick,” she murmured breathlessly when she came up for air, still pumping Garrett’s cock with her hand. “Both of you… I can barely fit you.”
Dean chuckled, gently threading his fingers through her hair. “Flattery’s gonna get you everywhere, princess. Keep talking like that and I might cum down that pretty throat.”
Garrett finally pulled her up to her feet. Without warning, his mouth crashed down on hers in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue claiming hers as one hand gripped the back of her neck. Then he spun her around and bent her over the edge of the bed.
“Stay right there,” he ordered, voice low and rough.
She braced her hands on the soft mattress, arching her back and pushing her ass up for him. Garrett hooked his fingers into the waistband of her silk shorts and slowly dragged them down her thighs, letting the fabric pool around her ankles. Cool air kissed her exposed, dripping pussy as he kicked her feet wider apart.
Dean climbed onto the bed, kneeling in front of her on the mattress so his thick cock bobbed heavily right in front of her face. “Open up again, princess,” Dean said with a wicked grin. “Don’t neglect me while your boyfriend fucks that pretty pussy.”
She parted her lips obediently and took him into her mouth just as Garrett rubbed the thick head of his cock up and down her soaked slit, coating himself in her wetness.
In one powerful thrust, Garrett buried himself deep inside her. A muffled cry tore from her throat around Dean’s cock as Garrett stretched her open. The sudden, burning fullness made her toes curl against the carpet.
“Fuck” she gasped breathlessly when she pulled off Dean for a second, voice trembling. “Garrett… you’re so deep. I can feel you everywhere.”
Garrett let out a low, guttural groan, his fingers digging hard into her hips as he started fucking her with heavy strokes. Each thrust slammed into her with force, the wet slap of his hips meeting her ass echoing through the suite. The sensation of his thick cock dragging against her sensitive walls, still slick from earlier, made her eyes flutter.
“That’s it, baby,” Garrett growled, voice dark and strained. “Take every fucking inch while you suck his cock.”
She moaned loudly around Dean’s length as Garrett picked up speed, pounding into her harder. The force of his thrusts pushed her forward, forcing Dean’s cock deeper into her throat with every stroke.
Dean stroked her hair tenderly, groaning with pleasure. “Holy shit, listen to how sloppy she sounds. You’re taking him so well, princess. Such a greedy little slut.”
She pulled off Dean’s cock with a wet gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his glistening shaft. Her voice came out shaky and desperate. “Harder, Garrett,” she begged, pushing back against his thrusts. “Please… fuck me harder. I need it.”
Garrett’s grip on her hips turned almost bruising. “You want it harder?” He slammed into her with a brutal thrust that made her cry out. “Like this?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes,” she moaned, before eagerly sucking Dean back into her mouth, bobbing her head sloppily while Garrett railed her from behind.
Dean let out a breathy laugh, gently guiding her head. “Goddamn, she’s loving this. Your girl is soaked and shaking, man. I can see why you can’t get enough of her.”
While Garrett fucked her with punishing strokes, she focused on Dean’s cock in front of her. She took him deeper into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked him with wet, eager pulls. Her tongue swirled around the thick head every time she pulled back, teasing the sensitive underside before sliding down his shaft again.
She pulled off just enough to speak, her voice breathy and filthy between moans. “You taste so good,” she purred, looking up at Dean with glassy eyes. “I love how thick you are… stretching my throat while Garrett fucks me.”
Dean’s breath hitched.
She dove back down, sucking him messily, saliva dripping down his shaft and onto the sheets. She moaned around his cock as Garrett slammed into her particularly hard, the vibration traveling straight through Dean’s length. “Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” she gasped during a brief moment she pulled off, stroking him fast with her hand. “I want you to use my mouth. I want to choke on this cock while my boyfriend ruins my pussy.”
Garrett groaned behind her, clearly loving her sudden confidence. His hips snapped forward harder, driving his thick cock even deeper. Without warning, his large hand landed on the back of her head. He pushed her down firmly onto Dean’s cock, forcing her to take him all the way to the back of her throat.
She gagged wetly around Dean’s length, eyes watering, but didn’t pull away. Garrett held her there for a few long seconds, buried deep on his roommate’s cock while he continued fucking her senseless from behind. Garrett looked up at Dean and winked full of amusement.
Dean was completely hypnotized.
His lips were parted, eyes wide and glassy as he stared down at her. The sight of her choking on his cock while Garrett held her head down and fucked her had him frozen in lust. His usual playful demeanor had melted away, replaced by raw, stunned arousal. “Jesus Christ…” Dean whispered hoarsely, voice barely working. “Look at her. Fuck, man… she’s actually taking all of me.”
Garrett finally released the pressure on her head, letting her pull back just enough to gasp for air, thick strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to Dean’s throbbing cock. She looked up at Dean with teary, lust-drunk eyes and smiled.
“You like that?” she asked, voice raspy. “You like watching Garrett shove your cock down my throat?”
Dean let out a shaky, broken laugh, still looking completely mesmerized. “I think I just forgot how to speak,” he admitted, gently brushing her messy hair out of her face. “You’re so fucking filt…”. His words were cut off by her going back to greedily suck his shaft.
Garrett’s thrusts grew harsher and more desperate behind her, his hips slamming against her ass with wet, punishing slaps. His breathing was rough and ragged, low growls vibrating in his chest as he drove into her harder.
“Fuck, baby… I’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained and dark. “This pussy is squeezing me so fucking tight.”
He leaned forward, one hand sliding up her back and gripping her shoulder for leverage as he pounded into her with brutal strokes. The wet sound of his thick cock driving into her pussy was filthy and loud. Every thrust pushed her further onto Dean’s cock, making her choke and moan around him.
Suddenly, Garrett’s rhythm faltered. His fingers dug painfully into her hips as he slammed in deep and stayed buried to the hilt. “Shit, I’m cumming,” he growled through clenched teeth.
She felt it instantly.
Garrett’s cock swelled and throbbed violently inside her. Then came the first hot spurt of his cum, flooding deep into her pussy. He groaned loudly, hips jerking against her ass as thick ropes of cum pulsed out of him in heavy waves. She could feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he emptied himself, pumping load after load of warm, thick seed deep inside her.
“Take it all,” he rasped, voice hoarse with pleasure. “Fuck, baby… take every drop.”
His body shuddered hard against her back as he kept grinding deep, pushing his cum further into her with slow rolls of his hips. Another thick spurt shot into her, then another, until she felt overly full, the warmth of his release spreading through her core. Some of it already began leaking out around his cock, dripping down her thighs in messy rivulets.
Garrett stayed buried inside her for a long moment, panting heavily against her shoulder as the final pulses of his orgasm faded. His cock continued to twitch inside her sensitive walls, milking the last drops of his cum into her.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck. “You feel so fucking good when I fill you up.”
He finally pulled out slowly, a thick gush of his cum immediately spilling from her stretched pussy and running down her thighs. Garrett ran two fingers through the creamy mess, pushing some of it back inside her with a satisfied groan.
She moaned around Dean’s cock at the filthy sensation, then suddenly pulled her mouth off him with a wet pop. Breathing hard, she turned her head and pushed firmly against Garrett’s abs with one hand, gently but decisively moving him back. “Move,” she said, voice hoarse but commanding.
Garrett blinked in surprise but stepped back, watching her with curious eyes. Slowly straightening up, she looked up at Dean, her lips swollen and shiny with spit, strands of saliva still connecting her to his throbbing cock. Her eyes were hazy with lust. “Dean… lay down on the bed,” she told him, voice low and breathy. “I want to ride you.”
Dean froze.
For a second, he looked completely stunned, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. The usual playful smirk had vanished, replaced by pure mesmerization. He stared at her like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “You… you serious?” he asked, voice rough. “Right now? After Garrett just filled you up?”
She nodded, licking her lips as she sat back on her heels. “I want to feel you,” she said, a little more softly but no less hungry. “I want to ride you while his cum is still inside me.”
Dean let out a stunned, breathless laugh, clearly hypnotized by her boldness. He quickly moved back and lay down in the center of the bed, his hard cock resting thick and heavy against his stomach, still glistening from her mouth.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared at her in awe. “I think I’m in love with you right now. Come here, princess.”
She climbed onto the bed and straddled him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. Garrett stood beside the bed, watching with something close to possession in his eyes as she reached down, wrapped her hand around Dean’s thick cock, and lined him up with her cum-slick entrance.
Dean’s hands settled on her thighs, gripping tightly as she began to slowly lower herself onto Dean, feeling the thick head of his cock part her cum-slick folds. A long, breathy moan escaped her as she sank down, taking every inch of him. Because she was already so wet and full of Garrett’s load, Dean slid in easily, but the stretch was still intense, his slightly thicker cock forcing her walls open again.
“Fuck… princess,” Dean groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes locked on where they were joined. “You’re so fucking warm. I can feel Garrett’s cum all over me.”
She braced her hands on his chest and started riding him. Slowly at first, rolling her hips in circles, savoring the way his cock stirred Garrett’s release inside her. Then she grew bolder, lifting herself up until just the tip remained inside her, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt with a wet slap.
The obscene sound of her soaked pussy riding his cock filled the room. Dean’s hands were gripping her thighs hard, fingers digging into her flesh as she bounced on him. “Shit, look at you… you’re fucking starving for it.”
Behind her, Garrett moved onto the bed. He reached around and slowly pulled her camisole up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her breasts spilled free, nipples already hard. Garrett pressed his chest against her back, one arm wrapping around her as his large hand cupped her breast, squeezing it firmly. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, sending sharp sparks of pleasure straight to her clit.
“You look so good riding him, baby,” Garrett murmured hotly against her ear, voice dark with lust. He kissed and bit along her shoulder while continuing to play with her tits, kneading them, tugging her nipples until she whimpered.
She rode Dean harder, her pace turning frantic. The wet sounds of her pussy sliding up and down his thick cock grew louder as she chased her pleasure. Garrett’s other hand slid down her stomach. His fingers found her swollen clit and started rubbing slow, firm circles around it, occasionally pressing down directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Oh my god…” she cried out, her rhythm faltering as overwhelming pleasure shot through her.
Dean was breathing hard beneath her, thrusting up to meet her bounces. “Keep going, princess. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. You gonna cum on my cock?”
Garrett’s fingers moved faster on her clit while he pinched her nipple hard at the same time. His voice was low and commanding in her ear. “Cum for us, baby.”
The combination was too much.
Her orgasm hit her like a wave. She slammed down hard on Dean’s cock and cried out, her walls clenching and fluttering violently around his thick length. Her entire body trembled as sharp, intense pleasure ripped through her. Garrett kept rubbing her clit through it, drawing out every pulse and spasm while Dean groaned loudly beneath her, fucking up in her, feeling her pussy milk his cock.
“Fuck, she’s cumming so hard,” Dean gasped, his hands gripping her hips as her body shook on top of him. “I can feel her squeezing me… holy shit.”
She kept grinding down on him through her orgasm, riding out every wave until her thighs were shaking and her breath came in broken sobs, but Dean was not content with her just riding it out by herself. With a low groan, he tightened his grip on her hips and started thrusting up into her hard and fast, fucking her through her climax. His thick cock drove deep into her spasming pussy with powerful strokes, prolonging her pleasure.
“Fuck, princess, you feel so fucking good.” Dean growled, voice strained.
Her orgasm intensified, her walls fluttering and squeezing violently around him as sharp waves of pleasure ripped through her body. Broken moans fell from her lips while Dean continued railing her from below.
Then Dean’s rhythm started to falter. “Shit, I’m so close,” he gasped desperately, hips snapping up harder. “I’m gonna cum…”
“Pull out,” Garrett ordered sharply, his voice dark and commanding.
Dean blinked, his thrusts stuttering as confusion clouded his face. “Huh?” he panted, still buried deep inside her, clearly dazed and struggling to process the command. “What?”
“Pull out,” Garrett repeated firmly. “Don’t cum inside her.”
Dean let out a tortured, frustrated groan, his expression torn between pleasure and disbelief. With obvious reluctance, he lifted her hips and yanked his throbbing cock out of her still-spasming pussy at the very last second. “Jesus Christ!” he hissed through clenched teeth.
He quickly moved up onto his knees in front of her, stroking his slick, swollen cock furiously. His face was flushed, eyes wild with lust and lingering confusion as he aimed at her face and chest. “Open your mouth, princess,” he rasped.
The first thick rope of cum shot across her cheek and lips. He then painted her tits, dripping down her nipples, and landing on her tongue as she obediently opened wide for him. Dean groaned loudly, his cock twitching hard with every spurt as he unloaded onto her flushed skin.
When he finally finished, he stared down at her cum-covered face and chest, still breathing heavily, looking both satisfied and slightly dazed. Dean let out a low, exhausted chuckle, watching them with hooded eyes, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
“Next round,” he said, still catching his breath, “I’m asking humbly and respectfully if I can cum inside her.”
I absolutely loved your last Dean story!! I was wondering if you would be able to write about a reader who has never been able to finish, with herself or anyone else, and dean helps her learn.
Beautiful writing!
I would've done that sober
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x childhood best friend!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-66
a/n: Well that was long, but such a delight to write and soooo so sexy
Classification: Smut +18 | Talks of ex's and sexual dysfunction/insecurity, emotional vulnerability, recreational drug use (NOT DURING SEX), dry humping/grinding, getting caught, fingering, tension and arousal descriptions, orgasm, praise and partial undressing/lingerie.
Word count: 12k
Divider by me ;)
You sat across from the fire pit in the boys’ backyard, elbows resting on the armrests of your chair while the flames cracked softly in front of you both. The night air had turned colder hours ago, but neither of you had gone inside. Dean kept talking and you kept letting him or trying to.
Every time he opened his mouth, you exhaled slowly through your nose as if physically releasing air might stop you from interrupting him.
“He’s an arrogant son of a bitch,” Dean repeated for probably the fifth time that night. He took another drag from the blunt before passing it toward you, smoke curling past his lips as he leaned back deeper into the chair.
“That’s what pisses me off the most,” he continued, staring hard into the fire like your ex-boyfriend personally offended him. “He had no clue what he was doing in the relationship from day one and still had the confidence to ask you out.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Usually I respect delusion like that, but that guy’s a fucking disaster.”
You accepted the blunt with a quiet sigh.
Dean had been ranting for nearly a week straight now. Anyone overhearing him would’ve assumed he’d been the one publicly dumped in the cafeteria instead of you but he’d been there when it happened, front row seats to your ex fumbling through excuses while half your friends sat frozen around the table pretending not to listen. Maybe that was enough for Dean.
Now, instead of being out partying with the rest of the team, he sat outside with you night after night, sharing weed and acting personally victimized by your breakup.
“Dean,” you finally interrupted, tone firm.
He stopped talking immediately.
You inhaled slowly before looking over at him through the smoke, holding his gaze while you exhaled. “It’s okay.”
Dean’s expression flattened instantly. “We have very different definitions of okay.”
His eyes drifted back toward the fire for a second, replaying the memory again. You could practically see it happening behind his eyes, the cafeteria, your expression and your ex stumbling through his speech.
“You should’ve let me talk to him,” he muttered.
“What good would that have done?” You brought the blunt back to your lips, inhaling before handing it over again. “It’s not his fault.”
Dean’s head snapped toward you so fast he nearly dropped the thing. “The fuck does that mean?”
You almost rolled your eyes at the offense in his tone. Instead, you looked away toward the fire again, watching orange light flicker against the patio stones.
“I’m lost here,” he scoffed. “Is being wrapped around another girl at a party three hours after dumping you not a dick move now?”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “Dean,” you said gently, finally turning your head toward him again. “I think I’m the only person who wasn’t surprised by the breakup.”
His brows furrowed.
You shrugged one shoulder lightly. “He just beat me to it.”
“Oh.” The word left him quietly. Dean looked away immediately afterward, dragging a hand over his mouth while he gathered his thoughts before glancing back at you. “That’s the first time I’m hearing about that.”
He passed the blunt over again.
You took it carefully, staring down at it between your fingers for a second before answering.
“Yeah, well...” You inhaled deeply, smoke burning pleasantly in your lungs before you let it back out slowly. “You’ve got other business to worry about.”
Dean huffed out a laugh instantly. “You are my business.” The certainty in his voice made your lips curl before you could stop them. “So start talking.”
He always did that. Dean had this way of making honesty feel inevitable. The two of you talked about everything, always had. He knew things about you your closest friends didn’t. Hell, he’d bought condoms for you the first time you planned on sleeping with someone because you’d been too embarrassed to walk into the store yourself.
You moved deeper into the chair, pulling one leg beneath you while you searched carefully for the right words. “Um…” You inhaled again, then blurted it out before your brain could stop you. “I suck at the sex thing.”
Dean’s face twisted immediately in disagreement as you passed the blunt. “Bullshit.”
You laughed softly. “No, seriously. I do.” You rubbed awkwardly at your neck before continuing. “Turns out not being able to cum eventually becomes an issue when your partner realizes you never actually have with them.”
Dean’s expression changed instantly. Every conversation you’d ever had about sex clearly started replaying in his head at once because confusion hit him violently.
“But you told me–”
“I lied.” The words came out easier than expected. You shrugged lightly, though your stomach still tightened. “I’ve been lying for years...Faking it until I got tired of faking it and started bruising egos.” A humorless smile tugged briefly at your mouth. “Including mine.”
Dean stayed quiet now so you stared into the fire instead.
“I just…” You exhaled slowly. “I don’t think sex is really my thing.” Your shoulders lifted. “I like the idea of it. I enjoy parts of it…but everyone talks about this huge explosive ending and I just…” You shook your head. “Don’t get there…naturally people stop believing you when you say it was still good.”
Dean watched you carefully. “Was it?”
“The sex?” You let the silence drag for a second before shrugging again. “I think so.” Your lips twitched faintly. “It was good enough to build better stories around afterward.”
Dean stopped smoking entirely after that. The blunt burned slowly between his fingers while he stared down at it, suddenly looking far more sober than either of you probably were. He looked like he was trying to organize his thoughts before speaking again.
“How about alone?” The question came softly, carefully.
If you didn’t know him so well, you might’ve mistaken the look on his face for pity. Thankfully, you did know him, which meant you recognized concern immediately.
You shook your head slowly. “That’s why I’m saying it’s not his fault.”
“It’s not yours either,” Dean argued as he flicked the rest of the blunt into the fire pit before continuing. “It just hasn’t happened yet.” His voice softened further. “Doesn’t mean it never will.”
You let out a slow breath, eyes closing briefly as the weed finally started loosening the tension sitting on your shoulders. “It’s definitely not from lack of trying.”
You could feel him staring at you even with your eyes closed.
The silence stretched comfortably after your confession, softened by the crackling fire and the distant chorus of crickets surrounding the backyard. The flames had started dying down, wood collapsing inward with quiet snaps while smoke drifted lazily into the cold night air.
Dean still hadn’t looked away from you. “So what now?” he asked finally.
You swallowed slowly, still keeping your eyes shut. For a second or maybe an entire minute, Dean genuinely thought you’d fallen asleep mid-conversation.
Then your lips twitched. “Celibacy.”
The offended sound that tore out of him made your smile widen. You heard him trying to hold it back too, which honestly made it funnier but this was Dean. Subtle outrage had never once existed in his body.
“Think I’d look hot as a nun?” you asked lazily.
“You’d look hot in a banana costume wearing clown shoes six sizes too big,” he replied instantly. “And you’re absolutely not dropping out of Briar to become a nun. End of discussion.”
His tone came out firm enough to sound ridiculous considering he had absolutely no authority over your life whatsoever.
You finally peeled your eyes open to look at him. The weed had settled into your bones now, leaving you heavy and relaxed against the chair. Dean looked hazy too, hair falling perfectly while the firelight flickered warm across his face.
“You’re not giving up because some five-eleven idiot couldn’t be patient long enough to figure you out.”
You grinned. “He’s six-one.”
Dean scoffed. “He tried out for the Hawks freshman year. Trust me, he’s five-eleven.”
Your brows lifted. Dean kept going without needing encouragement, already slipping into that protective streak he pretended wasn’t there. He always collected information about people around you, quietly filing it away for future use whenever he deemed necessary.
“He was wearing lifts during tryouts,” Dean added smugly. “One bad pivot and the guy almost snapped an ankle.”
A laugh escaped you softly.
“If you wanna stop having sex altogether, God forbid–”
“You should become a priest,” you interrupted.
Dean barked out a laugh, tipping his head back. “Yeah,” he nodded. “It’d probably take a year and a half to cleanse my sins.” He pointed toward himself loosely. “And that’s assuming I don’t burst into flames the second I walk into a church.” His eyes drifted back to you. “Can I continue now?”
“Yes, Father,” you replied through a chuckle.
Dean shook his head, smiling despite himself before settling deeper into his chair again.
“If you really wanna do the celibacy thing, fine.” He shrugged dramatically. “I’ll support you. We’ll find support groups together and hold hands through the trauma.” His mouth twitched. “Though personally, I’d go through withdrawals first.”
“How solidary of you.”
He nodded solemnly. “Exactly. Plus I can probably add it to my extracurriculars somehow.”
You laughed harder at that, shoulders shaking slightly as you leaned back into the chair. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
Dean watched you carefully while you laughed. The sound came out lighter than anything he’d heard from you all week, chest rising and falling unevenly while your eyes squeezed shut again for a second and suddenly the conversation stopped feeling funny to him.
Because underneath the jokes, underneath the weed and the teasing, he kept thinking about what you’d actually said earlier. About you trying and nothing happening.
Dean loved sex. Everyone knew that much about him but you did too or at least you loved wanting it, loved feeling desired, loved the intimacy, the heat and everything wrapped around it and now all he could think about was how frustrating that must’ve been for you. Wanting something everyone else talked about so easily only for your body not to cooperate no matter how hard you tried.
The thought sat badly in his chest. Dean looked down at the dying fire for a second before his eyes lifted back to you.
“Use me,” he blurted out.
Your laughter faded gradually after his words, the smile still lingering at the corners of your mouth while your eyes settled back on him even more carefully this time.
“What do you mean?”
Dean didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be your last resort,” he repeated easily, like he’d already thought this through far more than he probably had. “Aren’t you always telling me to make myself useful?”
You narrowed your eyes, blinking slowly through the haze settling heavier behind them.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” You rubbed at one eye with the heel of your hand. “Because I’m starting to think I hallucinated that sentence.”
“I hold my weed better than you,” he reminded you smugly.
That part, unfortunately, was true. Dean leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting against his knees now, all lazy amusement gone strangely sincere beneath the teasing.
“You wanna quit? Fine.” He shrugged. “Quit when you’re actually out of options.”
A quiet huff left you, somewhere between disbelief and laughter. “Didn’t realize Six Flags counted as an option.” Your lips twitched faintly. “I hate rollercoasters.”
Dean nodded decisively. “Then I’ll go out of business.”
“You’ll close the park?”
“I’ll shut the whole thing down,” he promised solemnly. “Just so you can ride the teacups.” The grin spreading across his face warned you half a second too late. “Remember when you threw up on the–”
“Yes,” you cut him off immediately, flat and horrified. “I remember.”
Dean laughed anyway. Full-bodied, warm and entirely too pleased with himself as he pointed at you. “You were crying,” he accused through the laughter. “You kept saying your stomach hated you–”
“I was fifteen.”
“And dramatic.” He added. “But so cute…less mouthy too.”
“You held my hair while I threw up into a trash can behind the funnel cake stand.”
Dean’s laughter softened slightly at that memory. Back then he’d been genuinely terrified something was wrong with you. He’d hovered beside you the entire night looking pale enough to pass out himself while you recovered on a bench wrapped in his sweatshirt. Now he just looked fond.
You glanced away first, eyes dropping back toward the dying fire while your thoughts started turning over his earlier suggestion again despite yourself.
It could go horribly. Actually, no, it would go horribly. There were at least seventeen reasons this crossed every boundary imaginable. You already hated rollercoasters, hated fast turns and hated giving up control over literally anything involving your body and Dean…Well, Dean was Dean.
Confident, experienced, annoyingly good-looking and unarguably good at sex if campus rumors counted for anything and unfortunately they definitely did. You hadn’t exactly conducted research firsthand but after years of hearing stories from girls around campus, the reviews were embarrassingly consistent.
“You really think that highly of your dick?” you asked finally.
Dean shrugged lazily against the chair. “Nobody said anything about using it.”
That made your eyes snap back to him fully. “And if nothing works?” you asked quieter this time.
The question slipped out more honestly than intended because suddenly you weren’t thinking about sex anymore. You were thinking about aftermaths, about what happened if this ruined things between you. Dean had woven himself into your life years ago so naturally that imagining him gone felt impossible now.
You genuinely didn’t know how you’d survive losing him too.
Dean studied you for a second and for once the confidence in his face softened into something steadier. “Then we fail,” he decided.
You swallowed.
His grin returned slowly afterward, softer around the edges. “Fail with me,” he corrected. “Fail better.” He pointed between you both lazily. “Fail together.”
A laugh escaped you despite every effort not to give him one.
You rolled your eyes hard enough to make him grin wider, shaking your head while the weed continued smoothing the sharp corners off your thoughts. The night air no longer felt cold against your skin and embarrassment had slowly stopped existing somewhere during the conversation. Maybe that was the dangerous part and not Dean’s suggestion but how easy it suddenly felt to consider it.
You didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night and neither did Dean.
When the rest of the guys stumbled back into the house loud and half-drunk sometime after midnight, he changed back into normal so smoothly it almost irritated you. He made sure you had food, water, your charger and then bullied one of the sober freshmen into driving you home while standing outside by the car until you pulled away like he always did.
You slept absurdly well afterward.
A heavy sleep and dreamless night, the type that glued you to the mattress the next morning until sunlight was already cutting aggressively through your blinds. By the time you shuffled out with an oversized hoodie you were certain was your ex’s, your phone was buzzing with unread texts from Dean sent hours earlier, probably before morning practice.
You ignored every single one and it wasn’t because of regret. Embarrassment simply crawled into your chest somewhere between the first and third spoonful of cereal and decided to settle there permanently.
The entire conversation replayed so clearly now that you were sober. “Use me,” You nearly groaned into the bowl.
Three hours of class helped, at least temporarily. You sat near the back of the massive amphitheater classroom while your professor rambled enthusiastically about the new book he’d conveniently written himself and would definitely require students to purchase before midterms. You probably would’ve absorbed more information if you weren’t scrolling mindlessly through Instagram the entire lecture.
The doors behind you opened quietly midway through class.
You barely paid attention at first since nobody descended the stairs toward the lower rows and a second later the seat beside you groaned softly under someone’s weight.
You recognized the cologne immediately.
“How hard do you think you need to scrub for that scent to leave your skin?” you whispered without looking up.
Dean grinned beside you, leaning closer enough for warmth to brush your shoulder as his eyes dropped toward your phone screen.
You locked it quickly and finally looked at him. “You’re not in this class.”
“I see your phone works perfectly fine,” he replied.
The professor thankfully dismissed class early before you could answer, students immediately growing louder as backpacks zipped and people exited the space.
You stood quickly and started gathering your things. “Did you need something, Di Laurentis?” you asked flatly.
Dean remained seated on purpose, forcing you to awkwardly climb past him to leave the row. The asshole looked entirely too pleased with himself while you muttered under your breath and stepped over his legs.
The second you reached the aisle, he stood and followed.
You walked fast, actually, aggressively fast. Dean almost struggled to keep up at first, his legs clearly still wrecked from morning practice while you marched out of the building like escape itself was the objective. He finally caught you outside near the steps leading toward the quad.
“We need to talk.”
You slowed at last before turning toward him. “What we need is space,” you corrected, motioning firmly between your bodies.
Dean looked down between you both thoughtfully, then took exactly one step backward.
You almost laughed, especially because he looked unbearably smug afterward, standing there grinning in the middle of campus like he deserved a reward for basic listening skills.
“You’ve gone to New York with me enough times to know I don’t need more space,” he pointed out. “But fine.” His expression softened slightly afterward, amusement fading as he studied your face more carefully. “What’s going on?”
Of course, he was right. Dean practically crawled into people’s personal bubbles recreationally, so the fact he’d backed off at all made it harder to flee the conversation entirely.
You exhaled slowly. “We said stuff last night.”
He nodded once, blinking at the tension written all over your face. “Yeah. That’s usually how conversations work.”
“Stuff you might regret,” you clarified.
Dean’s brows lifted before a quiet laugh escaped him. “Regret?” He pointed toward himself loosely. “C’mon. It’s me.”
His voice gentled slightly after and the worst part was he looked relieved, because apparently the phrase ‘stuff you might regret’ translated in Dean’s brain to ‘good, she’s not upset’.
“I would’ve said that sober,” he assured you.
His eyes stayed fixed on yours while your attention darted briefly around campus before returning to him again exactly like he knew it would. Dean stepped closer instinctively, lowering his voice enough that the passing students around you blurred into background noise.
“You want me to repeat it?” he asked quietly. “Let me help you cum.”
Your stomach tightened at his tone of voice. “It might not work,” you reminded him softly.
You hoped your face conveyed the actual problem because this had never been about his ego. Dean could survive failure, he’d probably laugh through it, so that wasn’t what scared you.
Dean shrugged anyway, maddeningly calm. “What if it does?”
“And what if it doesn’t?” Frustration finally slipped into your voice. “Dean, I don’t want us to get weird.” You shook your head hard once. “I don’t need ‘optimistic Dean’ right now,” you muttered. “I need ‘realistic Dean’, so pull him out of your ass.”
“You already are weird,” Dean corrected easily, smiling down at you. “I accepted that years ago.” His grin widened then. “Actually, I encourage it.”
You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you.
“Let me try,” he insisted again, the confidence in his voice should’ve irritated you more than it did.
Instead, you found yourself studying him in silence, searching for something off in his expression. Some sign this was ego, curiosity or boredom disguised as concern but he just looked…earnest. Enthusiastic, sure, because he was Dean and apparently incapable of approaching anything halfway but not creepy about it and maybe this was partially your own fault.
You’d spent years talking openly with him about sex, relationships and attraction. About wanting something good someday instead of tolerable, about how when you were old and exhausted with kids running around, you still wanted a partner who looked at you and wanted you back because you were almost certain you’d still want them too.
Dean remembered everything you said…unfortunately.
You sighed heavily. “We need rules.”
“Fine.” He agreed so fast it almost startled you. Dean straightened afterward, nodding once with ridiculous seriousness like the two of you were entering business negotiations instead of whatever disaster this actually was.
You almost reconsidered your next words. Almost.
“No kissing.”
Dean’s shoulders visibly dropped. “Why?”
“Because!” you hissed. “And if we’re doing this, you don’t get to question the rules.”
His face twisted in disbelief. “We’ve kissed before.”
You crossed your arms tighter. “That was different.”
Dean scoffed softly. “We were literally each other’s first kiss.”
Again, he was right. You weren’t just each other’s first kiss either, a few firsts existed between you both scattered through years of friendship and growing up side by side, all except for sex. There was awkward teenage curiosity, truth or dare disasters and one regrettable spin-the-bottle incident Garrett still occasionally referenced against your will.
Which was exactly why kissing now felt dangerous. This couldn’t spiral into some ‘why didn’t we do this sooner’ conversation. It needed boundaries and structure, something detached enough that neither of you accidentally ruined the friendship orbiting underneath all this and selflessly, you also didn’t want the group dragged into the fallout if things exploded.
“We’re adults now,” you said firmly. “So no kissing.”
Dean stared at you for another second before exhaling dramatically.
“Okay,” he relented…Too easily, which immediately made you suspicious he’d already started planning arguments against it for later.
“I’ve also thought about what you said last night,” you continued carefully. “About Six Flags.”
Dean’s brows lifted.
“And shutting down the entire park feels unfair to you,” you explained. “Potentially devastating, honestly.” Your lips twitched slightly. “So you can still hook up with other people if you want. I genuinely don’t care.”
Dean actually looked offended. “Didn’t realize I needed permission.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” His voice sharpened for the first time since the conversation started. “But no thanks.” He shrugged once. “It makes this more exciting anyway.” A grin tugged briefly at his mouth again. “I’ve got one ride right now and that’s all I need.”
Your face scrunched at his words. “Does weed somehow make you an even bigger asshole?”
Dean ignored that completely. “I’m not doing anything with anyone else until we’re done here,” he repeated firmly. The teasing disappeared entirely from his voice that time and there was no smugness either, just certainty.
You quieted automatically when a group of students passed nearby, a few of them recognizing Dean instantly and greeting him as they crossed the quad. He responded absentmindedly without taking his eyes off you once.
The second they moved far enough away, you continued. “Why?”
Dean’s expression softened at the question. “Because I need you comfortable,” he answered simply. “And I need you to trust me more than you already do.”
You groaned. “Oh my God,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re making this weird.”
He grinned at your reaction while you grabbed his sleeve and started pulling him further across campus before more people stopped to talk to him. Dean let you drag him along without resistance, looking far too entertained by the whole thing.
“We don’t even know how long this will take,” you pointed out.
“My fist works perfectly fine in the meantime,” Dean decided easily.
You looked up at him so fast your neck almost hurt.
Dean pressed his lips together, visibly trying not to laugh at the pure disbelief written across your face. His head tilted slightly, hair strands falling over his forehead while he watched you stare at him like he’d just confessed to tax fraud.
Your gaze dropped away first.
Contrary to what everyone on campus believed, Dean didn’t actually need constant hookups to survive. He liked the reputation, liked exaggerating it even more whenever it annoyed you enough to argue back or laugh at him but underneath all that, he could handle himself perfectly fine.
Unfortunately for you, he seemed almost smug about proving that now.
“Can I add rules too?” he asked.
You sighed dramatically. “Sure.”
The two of you kept walking through campus side by side, your pace slower now that the conversation had moved on from terrifying to merely humiliating.
“No scheduling things specifically for this,” Dean decided. “If it happens, it happens.”
You blinked once before nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay.” Relief actually loosened something in your chest at that. “That’s good. I’ll stress less.”
Dean glanced sideways at you, probably pleased you agreed so quickly…Except his rule immediately created entirely new problems.
“Uh…” Your steps slowed slightly. “How do you…” You scratched awkwardly at your eyebrow. “Take it?”
Dean stopped walking altogether. “How do I take what?” he asked carefully. “My coffee?”
You groaned. “No.” Your hand motioned vaguely between the two of you in a series of gestures that explained absolutely nothing. “Like…how do you like it?”
Dean’s brows lifted as realization hit him almost visibly.
You looked away at once. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath. “Do I need to be clean shaven constantly or not?” Your voice lowered progressively through the sentence while your eyes darted around campus to make sure nobody nearby overheard you discussing grooming preferences in broad daylight.
Dean stared at you for half a second too long before answering.
“Y/n.” The seriousness in his tone made your eyes flicker back toward him. “The day I tell you what to do with your body, you better knock me unconscious.”
Your mouth parted slightly.
“I’ll literally kneel for it if that makes it easier,” he continued firmly. “Do whatever makes you comfortable.”
And he meant it. Dean would enjoy it either way, obviously, but that wasn’t what mattered to him here. What mattered was getting you out of your own head long enough to actually enjoy yourself instead of performing comfort for someone else.
You blinked slowly at him because suddenly your ex’s comments replayed in your head with uncomfortable clarity. Little preferences disguised as jokes and suggestions repeated enough times to become expectations and judging by the expression tightening briefly across Dean’s face, he’d realized exactly where your question came from too.
That only made you feel worse somehow. Your attention drifted toward the students moving around campus nearby.
You suddenly wondered if people would notice eventually. The same way older women always claimed they somehow knew when girls became sexually active. Weird comments about posture and confidence, wider hips and glowing skin that sounded fake until suddenly you became the target of them too.
Your stomach tightened faintly. “What are we supposed to tell people?”
Dean barely hesitated. “To mind their own fucking business.”
You snorted softly.
He looked over at you again, entirely serious despite the amusement still lingering around his mouth. “Just like I’m doing mine.”
The rest of the week passed almost painfully normal.
There were parties, late-night food runs, afternoons sprawled around the boys’ house while someone yelled at a video game in the background and hockey games while Dean acted exactly the same as always. You spent time with Hannah and Allie between classes and after them, listened to Garrett complain dramatically about assignments he’d started twelve hours before they were due, watched Tucker cook enough food for six grown men while Logan disappeared upstairs with company more often than not.
Nothing changed.
Dean still touched your shoulder when he walked past you, still stole fries off your plate and still looked at you too long whenever you laughed at something stupid and somehow that made the entire thing worse because half the time you genuinely convinced yourself you’d imagined the whole conversation by the fire pit entirely.
Maybe the weed had made you both insane and none of it was real.
You sat curled up on the floor of the boys’ living room later that week with your knees tucked to your chest, a notebook balanced across your thighs while formulas blurred together across the page. Your back rested against the couch and the TV played quietly in the background though neither of you actually paid attention to it.
Dean sat opposite you in the armchair, long legs spread comfortably while he hunched over his own notebook with far more concentration than anyone would expect from him or maybe not because he took hockey so seriously. He took school seriously too, despite pretending otherwise whenever possible but unfortunately for you, he also looked unfairly good doing homework.
You tried focusing on your own work, tried hard. Instead, your eyes kept lifting toward him between equations, your brain repeatedly snagging on the memory of everything he’d said days earlier and the fact neither of you had taken any of it back…or done a single thing about it.
“What’d you get for number three?” Dean’s voice pulled you from your thoughts but still didn’t look up from his notebook.
You blinked down at your own page, trying to remember where your brain had abandoned the assignment entirely.
“C,” you answered eventually. “But I’m not confident about it.”
Dean hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve done the math twice and I keep getting B.”
You reread the problem slowly, trying to force your attention into place. “Then it’s probably B.”
Dean finally looked up at that, one brow lifting. “You’re admitting you’re wrong?”
You snorted softly. Honestly, it was extremely possible. Your brain hadn’t functioned properly all week because you kept thinking about him offering himself up like some absurdly confident science experiment.
“Don’t need to dig through my family tree to know I’m not descended from Isaac Newton.”
A smile tugged slowly across Dean’s mouth as he leaned back in the armchair. “If you are,” he said, eyes dragging over your face, “I’m glad the ugly recessive genes skipped you.”
Your nose scrunched instantly. “What kind of compliment is that?”
“The kind I’m hoping gets you over here to help me.” He motioned you closer lazily with his pointer and middle fingers.
You sighed before setting your notebook on the coffee table and padding across the room toward him. The house was quieter this late afternoon, though not empty. Hannah was upstairs with Garrett, Logan had disappeared into his room hours ago and Tucker was outside training.
“Let’s see,” you murmured.
You bent slightly over Dean and the notebook resting on the armrest, attention dropping fully to the equations scattered across the page. The movement loosened the collar of your shirt enough for cool air to brush your skin.
Dean noticed and his throat cleared quietly.
Your attention remained on the notebook while his eyes betrayed him completely, dropping for one dangerous second to the visible lace of your bra before forcing themselves back upward toward your face instead.
Dean had promised himself he’d take this slow and naturally because the second he acted weird about it, you would too. You’d overthink every movement, every look and accidental touch and unfortunately for him, you’d always been terrifyingly good at reading him.
He moved the notebook slightly farther from you as one hand settled carefully against your hip, guiding you.
You reached automatically for the notebook before he moved it entirely out of reach, successfully grabbing it just as he tugged you forward enough for your balance to tip. A second later you settled directly onto his lap, knees falling naturally to either side of his thighs.
You blinked once. “Smooth,” you muttered, adjusting yourself carefully without looking at him. “I’ll give you that.”
Dean grinned openly now. You balanced the notebook against his chest like it was a table and reached backward for the pen loosely held in his free hand. His fingers brushed yours before letting go.
“Should be a five,” you corrected while marking over the equation. “Not a seven.” Your brows furrowed slightly. “Your handwriting’s gotten worse over the years.”
“You still read it.”
“I’m not the one grading you.” Your eyes lifted straight into his.
You’d sat on Dean’s lap before, during packed car rides, group trips and random stupid moments over the years where proximity stopped mattering because he was just Dean. This didn’t feel like that, not even close.
“Not in math,” he said quietly.
Only one of his hands touched you still, resting warm and steady against your hip like he was making a conscious effort not to overwhelm you. Whether it was intentional or not, it worked. His eyes drifted downward slowly toward your mouth.
“You should be rating everything else though.” A grin ghosted briefly across his lips. “Pretty sure Six Flags has customer surveys.”
You shook your head once, slow enough that your hair brushed lightly against your cheek. “No ride, no survey.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. His legs spread slightly wider underneath you then, subtle enough that you still felt the change as the apex of your thighs aligned more directly with his. The hand on your hip tightened enough for you to notice. “Go on then,” he murmured.
Your gaze dropped before you could stop it, down to the visible tent pressing insistently against the front of his sweats. Heat climbed your throat immediately.
“Interesting moment you picked,” you muttered softly, eyes flicking briefly toward the rest of the house.
You felt comfortable there. Comfortable enough to leave clothes behind, to wander into the kitchen without asking and to nap on the couch when you got tired during movie nights but knowing the others were still around somewhere made your pulse jump harder instead of calming it.
Dean noticed. “Just focus on me,” he instructed quietly.
Not ‘look at me’, just ‘focus’ which you could do.
You looked at him, seeing the genuine curiosity and lack of judgment in his eyes and for the first time, the wall you'd built around your sexuality felt more like a shield and less like a cage.
Slowly, tentatively, you moved as the gravity of the moment pulled you toward him. You settled your weight directly onto him, feeling the distinct, blunt shape of his cock through the layers of your clothes. He wasn't fully hard yet, just a semi-firm pressure against your clothed pussy but it didn't make you recoil. In fact, it sent a low thrum of anticipation through your nerves.
The air between you grew thick, charged with a tension that felt heavy enough to touch. You remembered your own rule: no kissing. So, you kept your face inches from his but you didn't close the gap. Instead, you focused on the sound of his breathing, which had hitched the moment you sat down. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips, a teasing, invisible touch that made your skin prickle.
Dean’s hand still hovered near your waist, trembling slightly but he didn't grip you. He seemed to be fighting every instinct to pull you closer, respecting the fragile boundary you had set.
"I'm gonna keep my hands off," he whispered, his voice strained and rough. "You just keep moving. Take whatever you're comfortable with."
He pulled his arms back, resting them flat against the seat beside him, leaving you in complete control. The sudden lack of physical contact made the friction between your pelvises feel even more intense. You knew what you were doing, you had enough experience to know how your body worked, even if the 'explosive ending' always eluded you. You began to rock, a slow, tentative grind that pressed your pussy firmly against the length of him as a sharp, jagged exhale escaped his lungs.
You felt him react instantly, the semi-firmness beneath you surged, his cock thickening and hardening rapidly against your center. You rolled your hips in a circular motion, aiming for the sweet spot, feeling the dampness beginning to soak into your underwear. You were getting wetter, the friction creating a sliding, sensual heat that radiated upward into your stomach.
"You still okay?" he breathed out, voice barely a murmur.
You simply nodded and tried to focus entirely on him, wanting to give him something perfect, something that would leave him breathless. You pushed down harder, grinding your clit against the hard ridge of his dick. You watched his face, head falling back against the headrest, leaving his throat exposed and pulsing but he forced his eyes to stay open. He wanted to see you. He wanted to witness the way your expression changed as you found a rhythm that worked.
The intimacy was suffocating in the best way. There was no kissing to distract you and no wandering hands to break the spell, just the raw, rhythmic pressure of friction. You could feel the heat radiating off his thighs, the way his chest heaved in time with your movements as your own breathing became ragged, mirroring his, the sound of your synchronized gasps filling the quiet space.
You felt a small, involuntary moan escape your throat, a soft sound of pleasure that made Dean’s hips jerk upward instinctively, trying to meet your descent. You pressed closer, your mind racing, trying to synchronize your pleasure with his but as the tension built, a familiar frustration began to creep in. You were so close to that peak, that elusive edge but the more you focused on his perfection, the more you felt yourself slipping away from your own. You wanted it, you wanted to break through the ceiling you'd lived under for years and the frustration made you grind harder, more desperately.
You were just beginning to lose yourself in the friction, your body humming with a desperate, electric need, when the spell was shattered.
The heavy thud of footsteps hit the wooden porch outside, then came muffled voices.
Tucker.
The sound slammed into you like ice water dumped straight down your spine.
You jolted backward instantly, panic snapping through your body so violently that your balance disappeared completely. The friction, the heat, the dizzy haze clouding your brain shattered in one humiliating second as you scrambled away from Dean in pure instinct.
Dean’s hands had actually stayed off, so when you lurched backward, there was nothing anchoring you in place, no arm catching your waist or grip steadying you. You slipped right off his lap in a graceless tangle of limbs and landed hard beside the chair with a muffled curse, your pulse hammering violently against your ribs.
Dean moved at the same time you did. One hand grabbed the nearest couch pillow and yanked it straight into his lap while the other instinctively reached toward you, fingers brushing empty air because you were already halfway onto your feet.
The front door opened and you froze.
Your breathing came embarrassingly uneven as you tried forcing your body back under control, thighs trembling faintly from the abrupt stop, nerves buzzing so hard beneath your skin it almost hurt. Dean leaned back into the chair with his head tipped toward the ceiling for one brief second, chest rising sharply beneath his t-shirt while tortured frustration flashed openly across his face before he forced himself together enough to look toward the entryway.
Tucker walked in distractedly, phone pressed to his ear while he kicked the door shut behind him with his shoe.
“–No, because that’s not what I said,” he argued into the phone before finally glancing up.
Dean’s voice came out rough and annoyed. “Can't you knock?”
The irritation in it made your eyes widen and before thinking better of it, you reached over and smacked lightly at his arm which made him look offended for half a second.
Tucker’s brows pulled together slowly as his gaze moved between the two of you…You standing there awkwardly and Dean spread out in the armchair with a pillow aggressively covering his lap.
The TV was still playing, forgotten in the background too.
“Wait,” Tucker muttered into the phone, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hold on.” He lowered the phone away from his ear and motioned vaguely around the living room. “I live here,” he pointed out flatly. “If you two wanna study in complete silence maybe turn the TV down or go to the library.”
Your mouth pressed into a painfully tight smile.
“Hey, Y/n.” he greeted, much more gently.
“Hi,” you replied weakly with an awkward nod.
Tucker gave you one more lingering look before wandering toward the kitchen, already returning to his phone conversation while opening the fridge like absolutely nothing life-altering had just occurred in his living room.
The second he was no longer looking, your eyes snapped back toward Dean, his were already on you, wide and still dark with frustration and lingering heat and approximately ten other emotions you absolutely did not have time to unpack right now.
You hurried toward where you’d abandoned your bag near the couch and started shoving your things inside far too quickly.
Dean muttered a curse under his breath behind you as the fridge door opened again. “Wait, wait, wait,” he whispered urgently.
You ignored him completely, nearly dropping your belongings while trying to zip your bag shut.
“You don’t have to leave,” he continued quietly, unable to stand for reasons both of you were painfully aware of. The pillow remained trapped over his lap while he leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower. “Stay for dinner.” Then louder, “Right, Tucker?”
From the kitchen, still mid-conversation, Tucker lifted a distracted thumbs up without even looking over. Of course you could stay, you were always welcome there and it somehow made this infinitely worse.
“Y/n, c’mon,” Dean tried again, even softer this time.
You finally looked at him, at his flushed face and the way he still looked wrecked from you despite the interruption.
Your stomach flipped painfully. “You can text me that survey of yours,” you muttered.
Dean groaned quietly at the reminder, watching as you grabbed your bag and headed straight for the front door before your embarrassment could physically consume you alive.
You didn’t say goodbye or looked back. You slipped outside into the cold early evening air and shut the door behind you, immediately dragging in one huge breath like you’d been underwater too long.
Fresh air hit your lungs sharply, cool and tensionless.
Your legs felt weird as you walked down the porch steps and somewhere beneath the embarrassment sat an even more irritating realization. You needed to change your panties and somehow, you still hadn’t come.
For the first time in your academic career, you were thankful exam week existed.
The chaos of midterms had given you and Dean something else to focus on besides the fact you’d nearly climbed him in the middle of his living room while Tucker casually walked through the front door. Between study sessions, essays, last-minute cramming and the general emotional collapse that overtook Briar every semester, things had settled back into something manageable.
You and Dean had talked afterward, though absolutely not alone.
He’d insisted on meeting in a crowded coffee shop near campus where old women typed aggressively on laptops and students cried quietly over textbooks in the corner booths. Dean had spent most of the conversation reassuring you Tucker didn’t know anything, swearing repeatedly that if Tucker had known, the entire hockey house would’ve heard about it within twelve minutes. More importantly, he’d made sure you still wanted this and despite the embarrassment, the frustration and how badly your body still reacted whenever he looked at you too long, you did.
“Are you seriously not coming?” Allie paced dramatically across the apartment while speaking, changing outfits for what had to be the fourth time in under an hour. Both you and Hannah tracked her movements from the couch like spectators at a tennis match while she disappeared into her room only to emerge seconds later wearing something slightly tighter each time.
Hannah finally peeled her attention away from Allie to look at you instead.
“She’s right,” she agreed. “Exams are over. Maybe partying would actually help.”
You smiled lazily from your spot curled into the couch cushions, blanket draped across your legs while exhaustion sat heavy behind your eyes.
“What’ll help me is eight uninterrupted hours of sleep,” you informed them. “Which I plan on pursuing aggressively the second both of you leave.” Your mouth twitched slightly. “Now see some boys and make questionable use of your mouths elsewhere.”
Allie barked out a laugh loud enough to echo while Hannah groaned.
“When are we finding your rebound?” Allie asked as she finally settled on an outfit and bent down to tug on her boots.
“It’s too soon,” you decided immediately.
“It is,” Hannah agreed with a firm nod. “She doesn’t wanna think about men right now and we’re respecting that.”
You pointed gratefully toward her. “See? Emotional maturity.”
“Sure,” Allie snorted. “I’m still passing your Instagram around tonight though.” She grinned wickedly while crossing toward the couch. “You can decide what to do with the options later.” Before you could answer, she leaned down and squeezed you tightly against her side. “Don’t wait up for us.”
You watched them drag out the goodbye process intentionally, moving toward the door with exaggerated slowness like they expected you to suddenly change your mind and throw on heels at the last second.
You sighed and stood from the couch, physically herding them toward the exit. “Just go,” you laughed while they protested loudly.
“We tried,” Hannah reminded you with a smile while Allie opened the apartment door. “We’ll send you the address anyway.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“You say that now...”
You waved them off anyway and finally shut the door behind them once they disappeared down the hallway already talking excitedly about shots and music and whatever terrible decisions the night would inevitably produce.
Silence settled across the apartment immediately afterward.
You exhaled slowly…now what? You considered your options while wandering aimlessly through the living space. You could curl up on the couch with your laptop and a movie or crawl into bed and disappear beneath blankets for twelve straight hours like a Victorian woman with mysterious exhaustion. Or…Your thoughts drifted elsewhere automatically, toward your room and the drawer beside your bed.
You grimaced slightly. Maybe tonight was the night you tried again, actually committed to figuring yourself out instead of giving up midway through frustration like usual. You’d bought enough toys over the years based entirely on optimistic reviews and late-night curiosity alone.
Were they even charged? You were approximately two steps away from your bedroom when knocking sounded at the front door.
You groaned at the sound. “Did you guys forget your condoms again?” you called out while turning toward the entrance. Honestly, it happened often enough that the assumption came naturally now.
You unlocked the door and pulled it open. Then blinked at who you saw. “Dean.”
Dean stood casually in the hallway wearing a baseball cap and dark sunglasses despite the fact it was nighttime indoors, which might’ve worked better if he wasn’t also carrying an enormous black bag beside him.
“I always carry condoms,” he informed you smugly.
Your face scrunched instantly as his answer only emphasized how thin the apartment walls actually were. You narrowed your eyes at him while glancing suspiciously down the hallway.
“Why aren’t you at the party?”
Dean lowered the sunglasses enough to properly look at you over the frames.
You looked soft tonight, comfortable. Wearing sweatpants and an oversized shirt, hair messier than usual from lying around all day. The sight quickly made something warm settle low in his chest.
“Because I’m here with you.”
“No,” you corrected. “You wanted to be here with me.” You pointed vaguely toward campus. “Past tense…You should currently be at that party.”
“No can do.” Dean slipped smoothly past you before you could stop him, nudging the apartment door shut behind him with his foot.
Only then did you fully notice the bag. It was large, rectangular, black and rigid with no visible branding whatsoever. It completely ruined the whole incognito outfit.
Your eyes narrowed harder while Dean looked far too pleased with himself.
“I come bearing gifts,” he announced, then he walked straight toward your bedroom like he paid rent there.
“How did you know I didn’t go to the party?” you asked while following him toward your bedroom.
Dean set the bag carefully onto your bed before finally turning around, fingers hooking beneath the brim of his cap as he pulled it off. The sunglasses followed next, revealing eyes already fixed on you with far too much satisfaction.
“I have my sources.”
You grimaced again. “That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“Hannah asked me the other day to convince you to come out tonight.” He shrugged casually. “I didn’t.”
You crossed your arms. “Who says I would’ve agreed anyway?”
Dean smiled instantly. “Me.” The confidence in his answer came without hesitation. “I’m very persuasive.”
You rolled your eyes before your attention dragged back toward the massive black bag sitting suspiciously at the foot of your bed. “What is that?”
Dean glanced over his shoulder toward it. “Our entertainment for tonight.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Well…mine.”
You narrowed your eyes harder at him before stepping around him toward the bed. The bag gave nothing away from the outside, rigid and sleek and annoyingly mysterious.
Cautiously, you reached inside and your fingers brushed lace first. You blinked then slowly pulled the item free into the light between you both, pinching it delicately between two fingers like it might suddenly attack you.
“Lingerie?” you asked, genuinely confused.
Dean nodded once. “I had to get rid of the boxes,” he explained. “Turns out Agent Provocateur packaging isn’t exactly subtle.”
Your eyes widened immediately. “Agent Provocateur?” You stared at him in disbelief before looking back into the bag. “Are you insane?”
One by one, you started pulling more pieces out. Black lace…cream silk and tiny straps. Things so soft they barely felt real against your fingertips.
Dean watched your growing expression carefully and only then seemed to realize he may have gone slightly overboard. “I got lost on the website,” he admitted. “And then there was free shipping after a certain amount which felt financially irresponsible to ignore.”
You straightened slowly, still clutching one lace bodysuit in your hands while looking at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
“Explain to me,” you said carefully, “how exactly this counts as entertainment.”
“Besides the obvious?”
Your stare sharpened. Dean exhaled quietly before answering, his tone softening as the teasing faded from his expression.
“When you were on my lap the other day…” His eyes flickered briefly toward the floor before returning to you. “You stopped focusing on yourself after a while.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the lace.
“You started trying to get me there instead,” he continued gently. “Like you were more worried about proving something than actually feeling good.”
Heat crept onto the nape of your neck because he was right. Dean noticed everything.
“And I get it,” he added quickly, voice staying careful. “Probably instinct. You wanted me to enjoy it.” His mouth twitched faintly. “Which I definitely did, by the way. Don’t start doubting that part.”
You stayed quiet while watching him and actually listened instead of acting on your urge to flee.
“Tonight,” he said after a beat, nodding lightly toward the lingerie scattered across your bed, “the lingerie can be for me.” His eyes moved back to yours. “So the rest can just be yours.”
The room went quiet afterward. The plan had probably sounded more coherent in Dean’s head at one in the morning while online shopping half-awake with his laptop balanced on his stomach but somewhere beneath the absurdity of it, you understood what he meant.
Lingerie wasn’t only about someone else seeing you in it, women bought it for themselves too, to feel pretty, desired and confident. Sometimes just to stand in front of the mirror and reclaim something private but eventually, with partners, it often became performative too, something shared and visual. Dean was trying to remove that pressure from everything else.
Your gaze drifted slowly back down toward the pile of lace but you still weren’t entirely sure what happened next. You tried things on and then, what?
Your voice lowered slightly. “What kind of mind games are you playing?”
You hoped it didn’t sound accusing because it wasn’t meant to. You were just struggling to process the fact Dean had seen through you so clearly after one failed attempt, that he’d gone and actually thought about it, considered it and returned with something tangible instead of empty reassurance and blind confidence.
Dean shook his head immediately. “No games.” His voice stayed soft and patient, ready to leave the second you told him this was too much. “Let’s just give it a shot.”
Silence stretched again before you finally reached for a pair of panties instead. The lace slid smoothly through your fingers as you lifted the panties between you both for further inspection.
Dean’s eyes dropped instantly and despite himself, one very clear thought crossed his mind.
‘Yeah. Definitely one of my favorites.’
“How do you even know these will fit?” you asked honestly. The fabric looked expensive enough to disintegrate if handled incorrectly, soft lace brushing against your fingertips while you inspected the tiny details stitched into it.
Dean opened his mouth…closed it and opened it again. “I’m…observant?”
Even he sounded unsure of the answer.
Your lips twitched as you bit back a laugh while digging through the pile until you found the matching bra, then gathered both pieces in your hands.
“Observant and persuasive,” you mused while backing toward the bathroom. “Let me know when there’s something substantial to add to that list.”
Dean nodded solemnly like you’d given him serious criticism to reflect on. “Will do.”
The bathroom door clicked shut behind you and the second it did, Dean exhaled sharply and looked down at himself...for fuck’s sake.
He adjusted himself miserably through his pants while staring at your closed bathroom door in defeat. Lately everything about you affected him differently, your voice, your teasing and the way you looked at him for half a second too long depending on the day.
It was becoming genuinely embarrassing.
Dean barely moved from the spot you’d left him in.
He stayed planted near the foot of your bed, one hand dragging occasionally through his hair while his eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door like staring hard enough would somehow let him see through it. Every few seconds he twitched awkwardly in his pants, dealing unsuccessfully with the consequences of occasionally hearing your hums through the thin wall while knowing exactly what you were changing into behind it.
Inside the bathroom, you stood frozen in front of the mirror for far longer than necessary.
You tried very hard not to think about how closely Dean must’ve paid attention to you over the years to somehow get the sizing exactly right because it fit perfectly.
The lace sat snug against your skin without pinching anywhere, soft black patterns curling over your chest and hugging your hips beautifully. The bra lifted your breasts enough to make your posture straighten instinctively while the matching panties rested low against your hips, delicate enough to feel expensive but comfortable enough not to make you tug at them every two seconds.
You looked good, not just tolerable under dim lights or acceptable after strategic positioning and reassurance and maybe that was what scared you most because now you had to walk back out there and let someone else see it too.
With one last glance toward your reflection, you finally reached for the doorknob and stepped back into your room.
Dean looked up immediately, the reaction was almost embarrassing.
He stopped breathing for half a second entirely, eyes dragging over you slowly enough to make heat climb straight into your throat. He barely blinked while following your movement across the room as you drifted toward your full-length mirror, fingertips lightly tracing the lace resting over your shoulders before moving lower toward the small details connecting the cups together.
The silence stretched thickly.
You kept looking at yourself mostly because looking directly at him felt dangerous right now, even as he moved behind you slowly without touching. He was just standing there close enough for warmth to gather along your back while his eyes followed yours through the reflection. Wherever you looked, he looked too, until eventually your gazes met in the mirror.
You swallowed. “What do you think?”
Dean inhaled deeply through his nose. “I think,” he said slowly, “Six Flags might be going out of business soon.”
Your brows lifted immediately before a quiet laugh escaped you despite yourself.
You turned around to face him fully then, stepping closer until only inches separated you both. Your hands settled carefully against the center of his chest, fingertips brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt while you looked up at him.
Dean held your gaze steadily, too steadily, sometimes it genuinely felt like he could read your thoughts if he stared long enough. “What do you think?” he echoed softly.
You hummed quietly, eyes flickering downward toward his mouth before lifting back up again.
“I think…” Your hands began sliding slowly down his chest, fingertips grazing over the hard planes beneath his shirt one inch at a time. “Maybe…” Your voice softened further as your palms drifted lower. “I could show you something I actually know how to do.”
Dean’s jaw tightened as your fingers brushed the bulge straining against his pants.
“With my mouth,” you finished quietly.
You didn’t move afterward and neither did he.
In your head, the logic made sense. Dean already thought you were beautiful, so you didn’t need him witnessing your frustration firsthand too. You could give him something good instead, something you knew how to control.
For one dangerous second, he looked like he was genuinely considering it. Then Dean exhaled sharply and turned you around instead, guiding you gently back toward the mirror until your back rested against his chest.
A startled breath caught in your throat as your ass pressed unintentionally against the hard outline of his erection.
Your eyes met his again through the reflection.
“I don’t doubt you can do those things,” he murmured near your ear. “All of them.”
One of his hands settled carefully against your waist while the other slid slowly downward, fingertips brushing beneath the waistband of your panties enough to make your stomach tighten.
His eyes never once left yours in the mirror. “So why do you?”
The reflection showed the two of you, a study in tension and longing. You could see the intensity in his eyes, the way he watched you not just with desire but with a focused, intentional kind of devotion.
His hand didn't push further, he stopped before his fingertips brushed the outer lips of your pussy, leaving a teasing spark of contact. He held himself there, gaze locking onto yours in the mirror, waiting. He wasn't going to take a single inch more without your explicit permission.
You felt your heart hammer against your ribs, chest heaving. You looked into his eyes and gave a small, shaky nod.
The moment you did, he slid deeper. His fingers glided through the slick already gathering between your thighs, parting you with a gentle pressure that could’ve made your toes curl. He didn't rush, he navigated the wet lips until his fingertip found the small, swollen bud of your clit. He began to circle it slowly with agonizingly steady rotations that sent ripples of electricity shooting straight to your core.
"Tell me what you see," he whispered, voice a low and gravelly vibration against your ear.
You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you focused on the reflection. "You...you touching me," you breathed.
As you spoke, you watched your own body react. Your breathing picked up, turning into shallow, jagged gasps. In the mirror, you saw your breasts heaving, the nipples peaking and hardening into tight, sensitive points through the lace of your bra. As if reading your thoughts, Dean’s other hand reached around, his fingers finding one breast and gripping it. He massaged the hardened peak, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and you let out a sharp, involuntary swallow, head tilting back slightly.
"And what's at the end of me?" he asked, voice humming with a dark, sensual curiosity.
"Me," you whispered, the word barely leaving your lips.
"What else?" he pressed, fingers continuing that relentless, circling motion. He was forcing you to stay present, stripping away your ability to hide in your head or focus on his pleasure. He wanted you trapped in your own skin.
You stared at yourself, hyper-aware of every inch of your anatomy. "Beauty marks," you murmured, noticing the small moles on your thighs and torso that you usually ignored.
"And here?" he asked, his thumb flicking the tip of your nipple.
"Hardened nipples," you gasped, eyes fluttering.
"And on your skin..." he prompted, his fingers quickening their pace, the friction against your clit becoming more insistent and demanding.
"Goosebumps," you whimpered. You could see them breaking out across your shoulders and arms, a physical manifestation of the arousal peaking within you.
The sensory overload was dizzying. Every time you named a part of yourself, the pleasure seemed to intensify, as if acknowledging your own body was unlocking a door you'd kept bolted shut. Dean’s fingers were no longer just circling, they were fluttering, vibrating against your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your hips instinctively buck back against him. You felt the wetness flooding out of you and coating his fingers, making the sounds of his touch wet and explicit in the quiet room.
You tried desperately to keep your eyes locked on his in the mirror but as the pleasure climbed, the world began to blur. Your eyelids grew heavy, the edges of your vision darkening as the sensation centered entirely on the point where he was rubbing you. You started to moan, the sounds raw but still shy, escaping your throat without your permission. You pushed your backside harder against the rigid length of his erection, craving the friction, the completion.
The tension in your lower belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring winding up to the point of snapping. You were right there, on the precipice, the beginning of an orgasm shimmering just out of reach. Your breath became a series of broken sobs as your body trembled in anticipation. Was this it?
"I think...I–" you started, voice breaking as the first wave of a climax seemed to form but just before it solidified, just as you were about to believe it would, Dean abruptly pulled his hand away.
The sudden void was shocking. You gasped, body jolting from the abrupt loss of stimulation, the orgasm denied at the very last second of creation. You were left vibrating, aching and halfway undone but before you could process the frustration, he gripped your waist and turned you around in his arms so you were facing him.
Your eyes were wide, glazed with lust and confusion, chest heaving as you looked up at him.
"What the hell are you doing?" you asked, voice a breathless wreck.
Dean didn't answer immediately. He just looked at you, taking in the desperate hunger in your eyes. He gripped your hips firmly, knuckles white and began backing up toward the bed, pulling you with him.
"Trusting you to do it first," he murmured.
As the back of his knees hit the mattress, he let himself fall back, laying flat on his back and spreading his arms wide, leaving himself completely open and vulnerable to you.
You climbed over him, your movements determined, fueled by a desperate, humming need that had been wound tight in the mirror. You braced your knees against his sides, feeling the hard muscle of his thighs beneath you and planted one hand firmly on his chest. Beneath your palm, you could feel his heart hammering a frantic rhythm, a mirror to your own. With a renewed sense of determination, you slipped your other hand beneath the fabric of your panties, your fingers finding the slick, swollen heat of your pussy.
As you began to touch yourself, you closed your eyes for a moment, repeating the litany he had forced you to acknowledge in the mirror. You focused on the hyper-awareness he had instilled in you, turning that mental lens inward. You found your clit, already engorged and sensitive and began to circle it. Your breathing became ragged, each exhale a shaky shudder that vibrated through your entire frame.
You opened your eyes and looked down at your hand on his chest. You watched the way his pectorals heaved under your touch, his skin flushed and warm. Then, you felt his hands slide up your legs, his large palms gripping your thighs firmly. The sheer intensity of his gaze, the way he watched your every movement with a hunger that felt almost tangible, made a low moan escape your throat.
You had never reached this point before, never felt this close to the edge of something so profound. The pleasure was a rising tide, threatening to pull you under.
"Be patient," Dean breathed, his voice a low, grounding rumble that seemed to vibrate through the mattress and into your bones. "Listen to your body."
You nodded, eyes locked onto his and focused entirely on the sensation. You ignored the noise in your head, everything except the friction of your own fingers. You kept your hand working at a speed you liked, a steady, rhythmic pressure that built a coil of tension in your lower belly. You began to squirm, hips rocking in a slow, undulating motion against your own hand, chasing the spark.
In your haze of arousal, you shifted, pressing your soaking wet clothed cunt directly onto the rigid length of his erection through his pants. The sudden, blunt pressure against your clit sent a shockwave of pleasure through you and you let out a loud, uncontrolled moan. Dean groaned in response, a sound of pure, tortured restraint as he kept his hips from jerking upward to meet you.
You quickly lifted your hips again, holding them high in the air, body arching as you fought to maintain the rhythm.
“Holy fuck,” You were so close now, the world was narrowing down to the point where your fingers met your flesh.
"Attagirl. That's it," Dean whispered, voice thick with praise. "You're doing so good. Just like that...look at you, taking it all in. So fucking worth it."
His words were like fuel to the fire. The praise made you bolder and movements more frantic. You pressed harder, your fingers fluttering with an urgency that bordered on desperation until the tension reached a breaking point, a white-hot spark that suddenly ignited into a roaring flame.
The orgasm hit you like a physical blow. Your head snapped back, your spine arching as the first wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your lips parted and an unreal, unabashed sound, a high, keening cry of release slipped out of you, echoing through the room. It was your first time ever coming and the sensation was overwhelming. It didn't just peak and fade, it rolled through you in long, rhythmic pulses that seemed to last forever, shaking your entire body, leaving your muscles twitching and your mind a complete blank.
Dean didn't move. He looked at you, completely mesmerized, eyes wide and unblinking. He watched the way your throat worked as you gasped for air, the way your breasts heaved and the way your body shuddered under the aftershocks. Beneath you, his cock throbbed and twitched painfully against the constraint of his pants, a visible manifestation of the agony and ecstasy of watching you shatter.
As the waves finally subsided, leaving you limp and floating, you collapsed onto his chest with a sultry whine, skin damp with sweat and breathing heavy and synchronized with his as you caught your breath.
The silence of the room was thick, charged with the lingering electricity of the moment.
You swallowed hard while still catching your breath, voice a mere whisper against his skin. "Is it too soon to say that was the best orgasm I've ever had?"
Dean let out a heavy, uneven breath beneath you, the sound shuddering straight through his chest and into yours. Only then did his hands finally leave your thighs. Slowly, almost cautiously, they slid upward along your sides until his palms settled against your back.
Gone was the restraint that had kept his fingers tense and controlled earlier. Now he touched you lightly, almost reverently, fingertips drifting along the curve of your spine over the lace while he tried to steady his breathing. Every few seconds his hands flexed against you instinctively, like he still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“Definitely the best one I’ve ever had,” he murmured.
His voice sounded wrecked, dizzy, like simply watching you come apart on top of him had pushed him somewhere dangerously close to losing it himself.
You lifted your head slowly from where it rested against his chest, pushing up enough to properly look at him.
Dean blinked up at you lazily, pupils completely blown.
You swallowed once. “Did you…?”
The question barely finished forming before Dean’s expression morphed into something sheepish and amused all at once. He swallowed too before nodding once against the mattress.
Your eyes widened slightly as his hand slid upward from your back, fingertips brushing softly along your jaw while he looked at you with an expression so openly fond it almost hurt to hold eye contact with him.
“Am I still not deserving of a kiss?” he asked quietly. Half joking, half absolutely not.
You hummed thoughtfully like you were genuinely considering it. “You want a cookie and a gold star too?”
Dean’s grin spread slowly across his face, matching yours instantly despite the pleasure still weighing down his features. “Better than the survey.”
You laughed softly through your nose before finally leaning down the rest of the way.
The kiss was warm, searing and long overdue.
Dean’s hand moved instantly to the back of your head, holding you in place like he’d been waiting weeks to finally do exactly this. It started slow for approximately two seconds, soft lips parting against yours carefully, almost disbelievingly, before weeks of tension snapped apart all at once.
You melted into him with a breathless sound as his mouth pressed harder against yours.
Dean kissed like he did everything else, thoroughly.
His thumb pushed lightly beneath your jaw, tilting your head back enough for him to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against yours slow at first, exploratorily, before the restraint he’d been clinging to all night dissolved completely. The taste of him, the warmth of his mouth and the low groan that rumbled out of his chest when you kissed him back with equal desperation made your stomach tighten all over again.
The kiss quickly turned messy, hungry. You could barely catch your breath between them, mouths reconnecting instantly every time you pulled apart for air like neither of you could tolerate the distance anymore. Dean’s grip tightened on your hair as his other hand spread wide against your back, dragging you flush against him while his tongue swept against yours again, deeper this time, making heat rush straight through your body.
So much for rules.
Seems like Six Flags had just been privatised for a single Agent Provocateur wearer…indefinitely.
a/n: Comments, likes and reblogs really do mean the world and help more than you know! More stories will be added to the archive soon, so stay tuned for new content. Thank you so much for reading! 🤍
summary: Garett loses his temper during a game when his father announces his upcoming marriage before the game. It worsens when he sees you sitting with his father in the stands. Seeing you with Phil messes with his head, but it ends with you reconnecting in Garett's bedroom.
pairings: garrett graham x afab!reader
warnings:7.1k words. mature themes. unprotected p in v. creampie. cum play. breeding kink. oral sex (m!receiving). blowjob. deepthroating. handjob. praise kink. dirty talk. nipple play. clitoral stimulation. body worship. hair pulling. risk of being overheard. d/s dynamics. aftercare. family conflict. read responsibly.
note: he has me in a chokehold ever since I watched the show… also!!! first time writing about Garrett, might do it again next time. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
Ever since Garrett packed his bags for Briar U and threw everything he had into college hockey, you two barely saw each other anymore. The daily routines you shared back home gave way to late-night texts, random phone calls, or FaceTime sessions that kept you connected as you both built entirely separate lives. You had your own things going on with your own circles, your own relationships, and your own sex lives with other people, but there was an obvious spark between you that never went away. It was clear to anyone who saw you together that the distance hadn’t changed the foundation between you because you knew each other better than anyone else did after years of growing up side by side.
You knew his biggest fears, along with the dreams he never told anyone about, and he knew yours right down to the exact way your bodies functioned or reacted under pressure. You remembered how his body felt during those private nights, and he knew your body just as well since you crossed that line together years ago to become each other’s first. Being so far away from Garrett made you miss him terribly all the time, so you agreed the exact moment his father asked you to tag along to watch one of his college hockey games. You didn’t know Phil was bringing his new girlfriend along since you truly believed he was just traveling to support his son, but you really should’ve known better with a man like him.
You absolutely hated how Phil Graham treated his son, but you still tried your best to tolerate his presence because he always treated you nicely. His father also made you promise to keep the whole trip a complete secret, which you happily did because you wanted to surprise Garrett. What you didn’t know, and Garrett didn’t know either, was that Phil planned to use this exact day to announce he was marrying a woman his son barely even recognized. You only learned about it today because you asked nosy questions of Cindy. You also had no idea that Phil had already shown up unannounced at the hockey house earlier that morning to corner Garrett before the match. They got into a heated conversation over it, and the unexpected confrontation completely messed with Garrett’s head right before the game.
Sitting next to Phil and his girlfriend in the stands made it clear why Garrett looked so betrayed and hurt when he glanced up at you. You didn’t quite understand his reaction at first, but it clicked when you watched him play badly as he missed passes he usually nailed. He kept his eyes on your section while he stumbled through his game, and his expression showed he felt like you took his father’s side by showing up with them. Garrett eventually lost his temper on the ice, so the referee kicked him straight out of the game. He walked off the rink looking completely wrecked, while you immediately jumped up from your seat to run after him through the crowded arena. “Garrett,” you called out while you pushed past a group of fans to follow him down the corridor.
He didn’t even look back as he stormed down the hallway. “Garrett, please wait a second,” you tried again, but he kept walking away past the random people staring at you both. “Garrett Graham!” you yelled out loud so he could actually hear you over the loud fans. He finally stopped walking before he turned around to face you with a completely pissed expression. “What do you want from me right now?” he snapped back at you with an annoyed look. “I can’t just let you walk off like that after everything I just saw out there,” you replied right away as you tried to catch your breath. You stepped even closer to him to place your hands right on his covered arms. You looked right into his eyes while you let out a long breath through your nose.
“You have every single right to be completely furious right now,” you said while your fingers gripped his gear gently to anchor him. “But you can’t let him ruin your performance out on the ice,” you added because you needed him to snap out of it. “Are you really going to let his sudden drama control how you play your game?” you asked while you watched his expression carefully. “I don’t want him to win by messing with your head,” you explained as you rubbed your palms against his sleeves. “I came all the way out here for you,” you reminded him while your voice dropped to a softer tone. “I didn’t come to force you to come to the wedding,” you said to make sure he understood your loyalty. Garrett leaned forward immediately to rest his forehead against your shoulder as if he was searching for any kind of comfort from your presence.
He let out a long and shaky breath against your neck while his body weight leaned into you completely. “I thought you took his side,” he mumbled while his shoulder pads bumped against your chest. “I’m always on your side,” you promised back as you held him tight. He pressed a quick kiss against your neck before he leaned back slightly. “I know,” he muttered while his hands slid down to your sides. “I just got completely pissed off seeing you sitting right next to him,” he admitted because the sight had blindsided him completely. “I’m sorry you had to look at that,” you replied while you shook your head. “Stop apologizing to me,” he told you right away. He slid his large hands straight down to your waist before he squeezed the skin tightly through your top.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered as he tilted his head closer. “Well, you really need to get back out to the rink right now,” you reminded him while you patted his bulky chest protector. “Not even time for a quick make-out session?” he asked with a small smirk on his face. “I might forgive you for keeping secrets if you give me that,” he joked, because he wanted to lighten the mood between you both. “You don’t have anything to forgive me for,” you countered while you smiled back at him. He trailed his lips along your jawline before he brushed his mouth against your own. “Don’t you miss me just as much?” he whispered against your skin while he looked for a reaction. “Oh, please, you get enough attention from women every single day,” you said while you rolled your eyes at his question.
“Are you actually jealous of them?” he asked while he grinned to tease you. You decided to shut him up by grabbing his face to pull him into a deep kiss. You bit down on his lower lip while he sucked on your tongue to deepen the contact. Your mouths moved against each other as he swiped his tongue over your teeth while you gripped his jersey. He moaned into your mouth as he sucked your bottom lip between his own lips. You kept licking into his mouth while he pushed his tongue against yours to taste you. “Mmmh-” he groaned against your skin before he broke the kiss to breathe. He went to press another kiss to your lips, but you caught his shoulders and shoved him back. “Stop it, you have to get back out there,” you said while you nudged him toward the door.
“We really need to end this before it turns into something else,” you added because you knew you would not be able to stop once you started. “This is not like you at all,” you remarked while you adjusted his jersey. “You know you are the only one who makes me lose my mind,” he told you while he stared at you. He let out a long breath, but he finally gave a nod of his head. He leaned in one last time to press his mouth against yours for a quick kiss. “Promise me that you will spend time with me later tonight?” he asked while he brushed his thumb against your cheek. “I promise,” you said as you watched him step toward the doorway. He turned around to give you a last look before he headed back toward the rink. You waited in the storage room until his footsteps faded away so you could catch your breath again.
You walked back out toward the arena, but you refused to head back to the seats next to Phil. You instead found a spot in the tunnel entrance where you could see the rink without anyone spotting you in the crowd. You occupied the side as the players returned for the final period of the game. It surprised you to see Garrett skate back onto the ice, since the coach had clearly decided to keep him in the lineup despite his earlier meltdown. He kept his eyes forward as he skated past the bench. You waited back in the dark tunnel so you could watch him the whole time. “Don’t mess this up, Garrett,” you whispered to yourself while you watched him take his position. He didn’t see you standing there in the entryway, but he seemed to have his head back in the game.
You leaned against the side as the buzzer sounded to start the last period, and you needed to see how he would finish this. Garrett took over the game. Tucker zipped up the wing while Dean and Logan guarded the zone and stopped the other team from getting close to the net. They kept the puck moving and made easy passes to each other. Garrett battled for the puck in the corner and dodged a defender to face the goal. He found a gap and fired a shot that went past the goalie. The game ended, and the buzzer sounded to signal their win. Garrett threw his stick to the side as his teammates mobbed him on the ice. They slapped backs and hooted while the fans went wild. He caught your eye for a second and gave a quick nod before he skated toward the bench to join the line.
You walked away from the tunnel to head toward the exit and meet him once he finished with your arms wrapped around him. He gripped you tight right back, and he tucked his face into your shoulder. You squeezed him and said how great he played out there before you mentioned that Phil walked out halfway through the match. He stiffened up against you before he could even reply. “I don’t care about him today,” Garrett muttered into your skin while his breathing warmed your neck. You patted his back, and you feel the sweat from his jersey and his gear. “Okay, okay,” you teased him as the sound of distant chatter from the arena faded down the corridor. “You’re a sweaty mess. Go wash up,” you told him, and you tried to nudge him toward the direction of the locker room.
“I will,” Garrett murmured, and he squeezed your waist one last time to keep you close. “Give me a second, I just want to hold you,” he admitted as he leaned his full weight against you. He kept his arms around you for another moment before he stepped back and grabbed your hand to pull you along with him. You walked together down the corridor while he guided you right toward the locker room area. “Wait out here,” Garrett said as he stopped you right by the door to keep you away from the naked players inside. He disappeared through the entrance without another word to grab something. You stood by the wall for only a few seconds, and you could hear the muffled noise of the team from inside the room. Garrett pushed the door open again and stepped back into the hallway with his keychain in hand.
“Take these,” Garrett murmured as he dropped the car key into your palm. “Go wait by the car,” he added while his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Give me fifteen minutes,” he promised before he turned back around. You nodded, and he finally went inside to change after you headed out to the parking lot. You waited for Garrett in the parking lot until he finished changing, and then he drove the two of you back to the off-campus rental house. The driveway was empty because Logan, Dean, and Tucker hadn’t made it back from the rink yet. Garrett unlocked the front door and walked you inside the quiet house without stopping in the living room. “Let’s go upstairs,” Garrett murmured while he guided you toward the steps.
You followed him up the staircase because you knew the other boys would be home soon. He pushed his bedroom door open and led you inside before he closed it behind you. The rest of the house was completely silent while he dropped his duffel bag on the floor. “We have the place to ourselves for a bit,” you reminded him as you leaned back against his desk. Garrett walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Good, I don’t want any interruptions,” Garrett muttered while he pressed his face into the side of your neck. “Are you feeling needy?” you teased him while you tilted your head to give him more space. He let out a rough grunt against your skin before he kissed your neck.
“Yeah,” Garrett muttered while his arms tightened around your waist. “I really need you right now,” he admitted as he breathed out against your skin. You slid your hands right under his shirt while he held you close. You felt his hard muscles before you lifted the fabric up to check his body because you knew he always had a few bruises after his games. Several fresh darkening marks covered his body because he had taken a hard beating from playing and training. “You got beat up out there,” you murmured as you looked down at the marks. “It’s nothing,” Garrett grunted while he looked down at your fingers.
“I’ve had worse,” he told you as he guided your hands higher under his clothes. You let him cover your fingers and guide them over his skin while you let out a small chuckle. “Really?” you asked him as you looked up at his face. “You can’t even let me do it on my own?” You teased him because he wanted control. Garrett just rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let go right away. “Can’t I just hold your hands for a few seconds?” he questioned you while he gripped your fingers a little tighter. He let go of you after a moment and grabbed the hem of his top to pull it over his head. He tossed the shirt somewhere across the bedroom floor and stepped closer to you.
You leaned forward and started pressing kisses against his shoulder before you moved your lips down to his chest. You dropped lower to press more kisses onto his flat stomach while Garrett tangled his fingers into your hair to play with the strands. You dropped down onto your knees in front of him and reached out to grasp the waistband of his pants. Garrett looked down at you while his hands gripped your shoulders to handle his balance. “I can get those, baby,” Garrett murmured while he tried to nudge your fingers away from the button. You ignored his hand and continued working on the zipper because you wanted to take care of him.
“Let me do it,” you insisted as you looked up to meet his eyes. “I want to make it up to you for earlier,” you told him while you unfastened the button. Garrett let out a sigh and let his hands slide down to your neck. “You don’t have to make up for anything,” Garrett told you while his thumbs stroked your jawline. You pull the zipper down and open the fabric to reveal his underwear. “I know I don’t,” you replied as you reached inside to tug the material out of your way. “But I want to,” you whispered before you pulled his pants down past his hips. “You know I’d rather focus on you first,” Garrett reminded you while his fingers twitched against your neck. You looked up at him from your knees and gripped the fabric of his pants that already pulled down to anchor yourself.
“Fine,” you murmured as you tilted your head back to study his expression. “Just a taste then?” you asked him while you offered a small smirk to challenge his resolve. Garrett let out a quick laugh because the idea of you stopping early seemed entirely impossible to him. “Yeah, right,” Garrett scoffed while he shook his head at your suggestion. “Like you’re actually going to stop at just a taste,” he teased you while he looked down at your hands. You rolled your eyes at his comment and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers without waiting for permission. You tugged the material down past his hips and watched his hard cock spring free instantly in the space between you.
You wrapped your fingers around the shaft and stroked him slowly while you stared right up into his eyes to gauge his reaction. Garrett let out a small grunt and tangled his fingers into your hair again. “Seriously,” Garrett said, and his grip tightened on your head while he tried to control his breathing. “I really wanted to take care of you right now,” he muttered as he watched your hand move on his length. You leaned forward before you gave the tip of his cock a few light licks, and you cleaned off the wet drop of pre-cum waiting there. “You’re already leaking for me,” you murmured against his length as you looked up to catch his expression. Garrett let out a quiet groan and gently gripped his fingers through your hair to show his approval.
“Yeah, well,” Garrett admitted while his breathing hitched slightly. “You’re the one down on your knees,” he pointed out to justify his reaction. You wrapped your lips around the head after those first few licks and swirled your tongue over the sensitive tip. You slowly slid your mouth further down the shaft to take him halfway while your hand took over to stroke the rest of his length. “What the- yes…” Garrett gasped out while his cock twitched against your lips. He didn’t force your head down or push his hips forward because he wanted to let you guide the movement. “That feels so good,” Garrett whispered while his hand felt gentle on your head. Giving head wasn’t always an enjoyable experience for everyone, because some guys were careless, but you tolerated it for Garrett.
He was always perfectly clean and gentle about it, while constantly showering you with sweet praise. His latest comment made you feel a bit cocky, so you took more of his thick length into your mouth until the tip touched the back of your throat. Garrett noticed it immediately because he knew your limits by heart, and he gave a firm tug on your hair to lift your face before you could gag. “Whoa, slow down,” Garrett murmured while his thumb wiped a wet line from the corner of your lips. “You don’t need to swallow all of me at once,” he added as he gave you a small smile. You just gave him a playful look before you slid your mouth right back over his wet cock to continue. You started bobbing your head up and down the shaft to find a pace while your hand kept rubbing the base.
“Mmf-” Garrett breathed out as the other hand caressed along your cheek. He kept his grip on your hair softly to guide your movements without forcing himself against your face. “You’re doing so good for me,” Garrett whispered, and his hips jerk when you swirl your tongue around his cock. You continued bobbing your head to take his wet shaft into your mouth, but Garrett firmly nudged your forehead away to remind you of what you two had talked about. “That’s enough,” Garrett muttered while he stepped back to slip his cock out of your lips completely. “You said just a taste,” he says with a smirk to keep your promise. You let out a stubborn grunt and slapped his thigh because you wanted to keep going.
Garrett laughed and kicked his pooled clothes away to strip down completely before you stood up to meet him. He reached out and grabbed the hem of your top to pull it up over your head. “You know I don’t want to wait any longer,” Garrett whispered while he tossed your clothes somewhere onto the floor. The sound of the front door slamming downstairs can be heard throughout the room, and it shows that the other guys have arrived. “Oh, they’re probably fucking by now!” Dean shouted near the stairs to tease the two of you. You feel your neck heating up the blunt comment, but you’re glad the bedroom door is locked. “That’s embarrassing,” you murmured as you looked toward the doorway.
“Do you think they’re going to try and listen?” you asked him while you crossed your arms over your chest. Garrett shook his head and gripped your waist to get your attention back. “No,” Garrett told you while he leaned down to kiss your shoulder. “Well, I hope not,” he amended as he guided you toward the mattress. You stopped him before he could guide you onto the mattress, and you grabbed the waistband of your bottoms to slide them down to the floor. Garrett let out a sound of approval while he walked over to his drawer to grab a condom. You let out a small chuckle at the sight, and your hands were already reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. “I’m literally clean and on birth control,” you reminded him as you slipped the straps off your shoulders.
Garrett turned back around with the plastic wrapper in his hand while he looked over your bare body. “So you just go without protection with other guys?” Garrett questioned you while he raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. What the fuck,” you replied instantly because the idea annoyed you for few second. Garrett took a step closer while he watched you hook your fingers into your panties. “Then why do you want to do it without one with me?” Garrett asked you while he kept his eyes on your face. “Because we always do it without,” you pointed out as you tugged the fabric down. Garrett let out a laugh and reached out to grasp your waist. “Smartass,” Garrett muttered while he stepped right into your space. “I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he explained to justify his caution.
You stepped out of your underwear and gave him a playful look to keep teasing him. “So are you saying you’re not safe?” you challenged him while you slid your hands onto his chest. “Of course I am,” Garrett countered before he leaned his head closer to yours to capture your lips. “You know what?” Garrett murmured while he tossed the unopened condom wrapper back into his drawer. “You want me to cum inside your cunt?” Garrett asked you as he guided you down onto the mattress. “Is that what you want?” he questioned while he helped you settle right into the middle of the bed until you felt completely comfortable. You lay back against his pillows while he crawled over your legs to hover over your body.
“So no one is going to interrupt us?” you asked him because you wanted to be entirely sure before things went any further. “They’re all downstairs,” Garrett promised you while he leaned down to look into your eyes. “Dean and Logan are probably playing video games on the couch,” he added to reassure you. “Tucker is probably cooking dinner in the kitchen,” he finished while his hands slid to your hips. “No party tonight?” you questioned him with an arched eyebrow in disbelief. “Since you guys won the game?” you asked because it seemed impossible for the team to be quiet after a victory. “Nah,” Garrett replied while he shook his head with a small smirk. “Tomorrow,” he told you as he leaned down closer to your face.
“The guys are just too tired tonight,” he claimed to explain the lack of noise. You knew that was highly unlikely because the team never passed up a chance to celebrate a big win. You suspected Garrett had made a secret deal with his roommates to keep them downstairs for the evening. “What exactly did you do?” you asked him while you looked up at his face to get the truth. Garrett just smirked because he wanted to keep his secret. “Open wider, baby,” Garrett murmured while he tapped the inside of your thigh to guide you. You moved your legs further apart because you couldn’t help but obey his request. He guided the thick head of his cock right against your wet folds and started rubbing it back and forth to distract you from asking any more questions.
You tried to start another question because you wanted a real answer. “But Garrett-” you began before your words cut off. He responded by grinding his length directly between your slick folds until the tip swiped over your sensitive clit. You let out a frustrated whine because the brief contact left you desperate for more. “I swear,” Garrett promised while he looked down at your reaction. “They won’t come upstairs until we go downstairs,” he added to reassure you. He slapped his hard cock directly against your wet cunt right after he finished speaking and gripped your hip with a tight hand to hold you against the bed. You let out a frustrated whine because he kept rubbing his tip against your clit instead of sliding inside your wet cunt.
“Are you sure they’re going downstairs?” you asked him while you tried to tilt your head up to hear anything from the hallway. “Garrett, I can’t do this if they’re going to walk up here,” you insisted because the thoughts wouldn’t leave your mind. Garrett let out a sigh and ground his length between your folds to pull you away from your thoughts. “They’re not coming up, baby,” Garrett murmured while his breathy voice sounded a little distracted by the sight of your body. “Stop worrying about them,” he told you as he swiped his thumb over your jaw. “But what if Dean tries to-” you started to ask before his body pressed closer. Garrett cut you off by sliding the head of his cock into your aching hole before he pulled it to rub it into your clit again.
“Fu-fuck- please,” you moaned out while your hips rolled up against him in desperation. “Please, what?” Garrett asked you while he watched your body squirm beneath him. You bucked your hips against him to show him your desperate need because speaking felt too difficult right now. “Mhm… Shit,” Garrett cursed quietly while his throat bobbed after swallowing. “You like that?” he questioned you as he kept his length nestled right at the entrance of your cunt. “I do,” you whimpered while your eyelashes fluttered from the heat between your legs. “Can you just-” you tried to finish your sentence, but you couldn’t find the right words because your brain is slowly stopping from functioning. Garrett let out a laugh and leaned down to press a kiss against your cheek.
“Focus on me,” Garrett said while his fingers tightened on your hip. “Come on,” he coaxed as he popped the tip in and out of your wet entrance, which made a wet sound every time he did it. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered while he gave you another torturous grind right up against your sensitive clit to make your cunt ache even more. You nodded to answer that it felt amazing, and he finally positioned the tip directly at your entrance. “They won’t hear a single thing,” Garrett assured you while he leaned down closer to your ear. “But let’s try to be quiet anyway, okay?” he whispered to ensure you two kept things private. You nodded again and bit your lower lip while he began sliding slowly inside your cunt. You let out a muffled whimper as he pushed deeper until his full length filled you completely.
“Nghh-” you breathed out while you adjusted to his thick size. Garrett caught your lips in a deep kiss and slid one hand down to squeeze your chest. He flicked your nipple with his thumb to distract you from his size before he pulled away from the kiss to start moving his hips. “You’re so tight, baby,” Garrett grunted while he began to thrust slowly. You wrapped your hands into his curls to hold onto him while he continued thrusting into you. Garrett planted his palms flat on the mattress beside your head to support his weight. “You’re taking me so beautifully, baby,” Garrett murmured while he stared straight down into your face. He watched your reactions closely to see how each movement affected your body.
Your eyes rolled back slightly because the pleasure made it difficult to keep them open. Your teeth bit into your lower lip to suppress your voice while you took his length. “N-nffh-” you whined through your closed mouth, but a few desperate sounds escaped despite your best efforts to keep quiet. Garrett let out a deep groan and picked up his pace just a little. “Look at me,” Garrett whispered, and he leaned down closer to your face. You forced your eyes open to meet his gaze because you wanted to look at him. “You feel so perfect,” Garrett muttered as he kept thrusting deep into your cunt. Your hand gripped his hair tighter to handle the feeling, and you swallowed another loud moan. You kept one hand tangled in his curls while your other hand slid down his nape to trace the dark letters of the tattoo across his upper back.
Your fingertips brushed over his skin before they moved up to play with the thin gold chain of his necklace. “Your back looks so hot like this,” you whispered while his hips kept up the slow pace inside your pussy. “Will never get enough touching it,” you added because you remembered when he asked for your advice before getting it done. Garrett let out an exhale and thrust his length deeper. “Mmh, you really think so?” Garrett asked you while a small grin tugged at his lips. He looked cocky after hearing the praise you gave him, but a little shyness quickly took it back. Garrett leaned down further to hide his face and nuzzled his nose directly into the crook of your shoulder. “You know how much this chain means to me,” Garrett murmured against your skin while his chest pressed against yours.
“A-aah- uh-uh…” You whined out, and he shoved his length deeper until the tip touches your sweet spot. Garrett gripped your hip firmer to support himself while he kept his face hidden against your neck. “I like it when you touch it,” he confessed before he dragged his cock entirely out just to push right back inside. Garrett gave your neck a bite before he pulled his face away to look down at you. The gold chain dangled close to your lips, so you opened your mouth to tease him by biting the necklace. You let out a small chuckle against the chain, but it turned into a whine when Garrett suddenly pulled his cock almost all the way out of your cunt. He left just the tip inside your entrance to torture you, and he refused to thrust back in.
You ground your hips upward in a desperate attempt to force him deeper because you needed him deeper. Garrett responded by pinning your hip against the mattress to stop you from doing that before he thrust all the way in. “D-don’t do that,” you whine out while you shake your head against the pillow. “When- when I’m... I feel like I’m close,” you gasped out to finish your complaint. Garrett looked at your face while his chest heaved a little. “Yeah?” Garrett murmured while he gave you a small smirk to tease you. “You’re getting that close for me?” he asked before his hand traveled down to the back of your leg. He slowly lifted your knee to rest it over his shoulder to adjust the position. Garrett started thrusting faster and deeper into you without teasing you this time.
He used his free hand to reach down between your bodies so he could rub your clit while he buried himself inside you. You wrapped your hand around his neck not to choke him, but you did it just to feel his necklace against your palm. “Oh god, G-Garrett,” you gasped out as his tip kept finding your spot with every thrust. “Just like that, baby,” Garrett murmured while he never looked away from your face to watch your reactions. The feeling of his cock stretching you out and the way his fingers were rubbing your clit made you clench around him. Your clit pulsed against his fingers while your walls continued to squeeze him to the point you felt his cock throb inside you. “M-mmph- I can’t,” you whimpered, and you rolled your hips into his hand to get more pleasure.
“You’re doing so good for me,” Garrett whispered as he kept up the fast pace. You pulled him closer by his shoulders until his forehead was pressing against yours. You kept your eyes closed while you told him how you felt. “Mmn, I’m close…” You whispered while his cock slid deep into your cunt. “R-right there-” you gasped as he kept up the pace. Garrett groaned against your lips before he gave you a peck. “I know, baby,” Garrett murmured before he moved faster. He rubbed your clit with his fingers while he kept fucking you. Garrett gives your lips another kiss before he whispers praises against your mouth. “You’re so perfect for me,” Garrett murmured as his hips touch against your thighs the moment he thrusts back in.
He talked you through it while keeping up the pace. “I missed you so much,” Garrett confessed when he pushed his cock all the way inside your cunt. “I- I know…” You gasped against his lips before you squeezed his length. It only takes a few thrusts until you finally cum around his thick cock while Garrett doesn’t stop his movements to chase his own orgasm. The tightness of your walls made him grunt out loud, but it’s easier to thrust now after you finish around his cock. “Fu-fuh- fuck,” Garrett groaned while he kept going, and he watched the way your body bounced against the mattress with every thrust. He was now raised on his knees, with your leg hooked over his shoulder. Garrett looked down between your bodies to watch the way his cock disappeared inside you and the way it looked coated with your cum.
“I’m right behind you, baby,” Garrett panted out as he sped up his movements. “Do you want it inside you?” he asked you, but it’s obvious that his focus is on watching your cunt squeeze his shaft. “M-mmf, yes, please,” you whimpered, and you wanted him to fill you up completely. Garrett let out a breath and buried himself all the way to the base to give you everything. Garrett reached his free hand up to pinch your nipple while he kept thrusting to chase his orgasm. He played with the peak between his fingers as his pace slowed down for a few moments. “Never done this without a condom with anyone else,” Garrett panted out while he stared down at you. “I only want to fill you up,” he whispered before he pushed deeper into your cunt.
His confession made you bite your lip and smirk while you reached up to grab his waist to hold him against you. “Sh-shit, fill me up then,” you whimpered while you squeezed your pussy around his shaft. Garrett let out a grunt and gave you a few more thrusts to finish. His hips stop moving against yours as his cum fills your cunt completely. “God- g-god, you’re perfect,” Garrett breathed out while his cock twitched inside you. He gave you a few more thrusts to get his cum deeper inside before he pulled out and put your leg down. He watched the fluid leak out of your cunt while you felt heat bloom across your cheeks. You tried to close your thighs together to hide it, but he blocked your movement with his hand.
“Look at how pretty you look right now,” he murmured while he kept your legs parted. “Don’t look, Garrett,” you whispered as you avoided eye contact. Garrett sat down beside you on the mattress and caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I can’t help it when you’re this beautiful,” He said before he leaned down to kiss your forehead. Garrett kept his mouth against your forehead while he breathed out. “Some of your clothes from your last visit are in my closet,” he whispered as his fingers brushed through your hair. You tilted your head back to see his face. “Even the customized jersey with your last name and number?” you asked because he had gifted that specific shirt to you for your visits to Briar U.
Garrett nodded while his thumb stroked your jaw. “It’s there, and it’s already washed since you used it the last time we did this in my room,” Garrett replied with a grin. He nudged your nose with his own to tease you. “Even those tight little cotton shorts you paired it with are in the drawer,” Garrett added while your face grew warm. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “You look so hot with Graham on your back,” Garrett murmured against your mouth before he smiled. “I’ll get them for you,” he said before he stood up from the mattress. He walked over to the dresser while being completely naked to grab the clothes. You chuckled while you watched him search the drawers. “No underwear?” you asked after he tossed the shirt and the shorts over.
Garrett looked back with a smirk on his face. “Don’t wear one,” he replied, and you rolled your eyes. You sat up on the bed and with the blanket covering your body. “So we’re not going to shower?” you added to annoy him. Garrett grabbed a fresh pair of boxers for himself along with a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Later, before bed,” Garrett answered as he slipped his boxers on. “Yeah?” you teased while he walked back to your side. Garrett climbed onto the mattress to get closer to you. “Later, baby. Aren’t you hungry?” Garrett asked while he set the tissues down to clean you up. You adjusted the blanket against your chest. “I am,” you admitted as your stomach rumbled. Garrett nodded his head toward the door.
“I feel like Tucker cooked something,” Garrett said before he reached out to tend to you. Garrett reached out to take the blanket away from your body before he opened your legs wider. He looked down at the mess dripping from your cunt while he pulled a few tissues out of the box. “I could just eat you clean instead,” Garrett murmured with a grin. You let out a scoff because you knew exactly what he wanted. “You wouldn’t stop there. You’d just want to make me cum again,” you pointed out as you grabbed your own handful of tissues. You used them to wipe the sweat away from your chest before you slid the jersey over your head. Garrett chuckled at your comment before he started wiping the cum from your inner thighs and your ass.
He focused on cleaning your cunt gently while you finished pulling the top over your stomach. “You know me too well, baby,” Garrett said as he threw the dirty tissues away. You stood up from the bed right after and pulled on the tiny cotton shorts. You walked back over to where Garrett sat so you could put your hands on his shoulders to reach his upper back. Your fingertips traced the letters of the tattoo inked across his skin while your other hand played with the curls at his nape. “You look amazing in that jersey,” Garrett murmured while his hands slid down to touch your waist and hips. He stood up from the mattress and took your hand to lead you to the door before he unlocked it to walk out into the hallway.
You only took a few steps toward the stairs before Dean looked up from the couch downstairs. “Finally, we can actually go upstairs now,” Dean called out to tease you both. Tucker laughed while Logan shook his head right beside him. “We thought you two were never going to come out of there,” Tucker added, and Garrett squeezed your fingers to ignore them. “There’s some pesto on the stove if you guys want it,” Tucker called out from the couch. Garrett led you toward the kitchen while he kept his fingers locked with yours. “Thanks, man,” Garrett answered, and you also mouthed a thank-you to Tucker. Garrett guided you straight to the counter and reached into the cabinet for a single bowl for the two of you to share.
He poured some pasta inside before he grabbed a fork to twirl a few noodles together. “Taste this,” Garrett murmured as he held the food up to your lips. You bit into the noodles, and the savory flavor filled your mouth. “Look at them, having pasta after sex,” Dean shouted from the living room while Logan snorted at the joke. Garrett raised his middle finger to the guys without looking back. “Ignore them,” Garrett muttered as he watched you chew on it. You took the fork from his hand right after you swallowed it. Garrett leaned his hip against the counter, and he never looked away from you. You twirled another bite of noodles and pressed it against his lips to make him eat before you leaned close to his ear to whisper, “Pasta after sex.”
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ pet names (captain, baby, pretty + no yn) swearing, brat taming (playfully), possessive!garrett, jealous!garrett, hockey fights + injuries, split lip/blood, praise kink (both), oral (m. receiving), bondage (panties), teasing, begging, unprotected p in v, riding, multiple orgasms, w.a.m., clingy post-sex vibes + a very down bad, needy man
3.3K words
“Shit,” Garrett hisses as he kisses you again, accidentally pulling his split lip back open.
He groans through it anyway.
The sound shudders against your neck while he presses another kiss into your skin—then another, softer this time, shaky around the edges. His weight braces over you, broad chest warm against yours, muscles still tight with leftover adrenaline from the game.
“Fuck me—”
“Garrett,” you murmur with a quiet laugh, reaching up to cup his jaw. “Baby.”
His knuckles are still red and swollen from the fight earlier, but he brushes it off like it’s nothing. “M’fine, pretty.”
“Sure you are,” you whisper.
Your fingers spread slowly across his bare chest, his heartbeat pounding beneath your palm as you nudge him back just enough to make him pause. He finally looks at you.
“Baby,” you murmur softly, fingers brushing through his damp curls. “We can just lay here, okay? You’re exhausted.”
Garrett shakes his head immediately, pulling you closer like you’ve said something insane. “No.”
“Garrett—”
“Need this,” he grinds out against your mouth. “Barely get you alone. Barely get to have you.” His grip tightens at your waist, his stare going heavier on yours. “I need this tonight, baby.”
“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers himself to your lips. His muscles tremble beneath your hands as they wrap around his biceps. You shift underneath him, arching just enough for him to realize something needs to change.
Garrett notices immediately. He wets the split in his lip, eyes narrowing with slow amusement. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Get on your back, Garrett.”
“What?” He laughs softly, still hovering over you like he thinks there’s no chance you’re serious.
“Back. Now.” You try to roll him but he grabs your wrist, pinning you to the mattress.
“You serious right now?” He whispers against your lips, letting out a raspy laugh before hissing when the smile tugs the cut back open.
“Now.”
Garrett lets out a rough breath like he’s too sore for this, shifting onto his back beneath you, broad chest rising and falling harder once you settle over his waist.
A dark bruise shadows the side of his ribs, already blooming beneath tan skin where he got slammed into the boards earlier.
His hands slide to your thighs automatically—big palms squeezing instinctively—but you catch his wrists before he can settle them there.
“Uh-uh.” Your voice comes out softer this time and he cocks an eyebrow at you, loving wherever the hell this is going. “Coach said you have to relax. R e l a x,” you breathe as you guide his arms over his head, fingers tracing over the thick muscle of his forearms until your hands lace together above him.
“I don't wanna relax,” he chuckles.
“I don't care.”
“You’re bossy tonight,” he says with a tilted smile, already breathless.
“Maybe,” you smile down at him like you already knew you’d win this. “But you’re a problem.” Your fingertips drag lightly down the center of his chest. “Not now that I’ve finally got you pinned down for once.”
Garrett lets out a short laugh through his nose, shaking his head against the pillow. “Control? You know how easily I could get it back, baby?” He tilts his head against the pillow to look at you better.
Then your hand reaches across the bed for your pink lace panties—discarded somewhere in the mess—and Garrett clocks what you’re doing about one second too late.
“Wait,” he breathes, eyes narrowing. “Hold on—” His head tips back into the pillow as you loop the lace around the headboard, knotting it around his wrists while he watches with parted lips and a slow swallow working down his throat. “You’re serious.”
“You keep hurting yourself,” you sigh as your thumb brushes carefully near the cut in his lip. “You don’t listen. All you do is fight.” You lean closer, softer now. “So now you don’t get to be in charge for a little while. Baby, you're stuck—”
“It’s a pair of pink panties.”
“And yet,” you murmur softly, tightening your grip around his wrists for a second, “look how good you’re behaving for me.”
He sucks his teeth and chuckles at that. “Behaving?” He scoffs. “Behaving. I've been getting chirped about you all night and I snapped once after he slashed me. He threw the first punch. Ten minute major. Now you’ve got me tied up in a thong. What more do you want from me?”
“Maybe I just wanted you to sit still long enough for me to take care of you,” you whisper, your mouth brushing over his. “Thank you like I’ve wanted to since you stepped into the penalty box. Does that sound so bad?”
He lets out a deep breath, nodding like that’s exactly what he needed to hear.
Your body dips lower, back arching as your ass lifts slightly while your lips trace his ear. “Maybe, I wanted to tie you up, and make you my bitch.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, a dark laugh breaking past his lips as he turns his head, burying himself in your neck. “M’not your fuckin’ bitch, alright?”
“You’re not?” You soften your voice and his whole body loosens beneath you.
“…Fine.”
“Fine what, baby?” You ask as your gaze meets his again, his eyes falling to your lips as you smile.
“I’m your bitch,” he says under his breath, intentionally quiet enough to piss you off.
Your mouth falls open dramatically, hand pressing against his abs, moving lower making his breathing catch. “Well, that wasn’t very convincing, baby.”
Garrett laughs again, deeper this time, turning his head like he’s embarrassed by how easy he is for you, a blush creeping across his cheeks.
“I’m your bitch, baby,” he repeats a little louder now, brown eyes sliding back to yours. “Happy?”
“Very.”
“God,” he huffs, smiling despite himself. “You like fuckin’ with me, don't you?”
“More like love, but yeah,” you tease, leaning down, lips pressing against his neck, shifting lower, soft lips trailing over his stomach, tongue teasing his v-line before your mouth dips lower, nuzzling between his thighs.
His stomach tightens instantly, thighs flexing as he lifts his head, getting a better look.
“Fuck,” he breathes when your tongue flicks over his balls, warm and slow. His thighs tighten when you take one into your mouth, then the other, stroking his thick cock with your hand while you suck softly. “Damn, baby,” he moans, head falling back against the pillow. “Gonna make me lose it.”
“How many times?” You ask sweetly, breath fanning over his spit-slick dick, feeling him twitch in your grip. You glance up at him through your lashes, looking way too innocent for your words.
“So what?” He murmurs. “You gonna tie me up and just—use me?”
“Mhmm,” you hum around him, the sound making his abs tighten again. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”
Garrett swears softly under his breath as you crawl back up his body slowly, your fingertips skimming over the sculpted ridges of his abs, higher over his chest, nails scratching lightly, his gold chain flickering in the low light when he sucks in a breath.
His hands twitch against the lace when your wet pussy settles over his length again, grinding down slow, your breasts pressed against his broad chest.
“You’re so fucking hot, Garrett,” you murmur against his lips, but the smile slips through anyway.
“You have no clue how good you look on top of me,” he mutters, his voice already rough, even though the corner of his mouth still curls smugly. “You gotta stop teasing me.”
Your eyes trace the line of his jaw, the bruise blooming dark beneath his cheekbone, the split in his lip still angry red. His dark curls fall onto his forehead, half brushed-back from running his hands through them, wet with sweat again.
“All fucked up and still the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” you murmur, thumb brushing lightly near the cut. “You’re unbelievable.”
Garrett lets out a low sound at that, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.
“Unbelievable, huh?” His voice drops rough around the edges.
“So fucking greedy, Graham.”
His brows pinch immediately. “Graham?” He scoffs, finally lifting his head enough to look at you properly. “Garrett’s for you. The fuck are you callin’ me Graham?”
You just smile wider—a slow little smile. Underneath all the cockiness, Garrett loves this—the way you toy with him when you get bold enough to take control.
Your fingers drift lazily through his hair while you stay settled over his lap, watching him try and fail to keep that smug look on his face.
“Talk to me nice,” he mutters, low and warning, even though his hands are tied above his head and he’s already losing this fight. “Talk to me like you love me.”
You bite back a smile, grinding your hips on top. “Captain’s havin’ a hard night, huh?”
“Holy shit,” Garrett drags out the words like they physically pain him. His head falls back, wrists pulling taut against the lace.
“Just take it,” you breathe, mouth brushing close enough to his that he can feel the smile there. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“Don’t,” he grunts immediately, the word coming out stern and final even while his wrists tug uselessly against the lace above his head.
Garrett tests the restraints again anyway, muscles tightening beneath you, but you shove playfully at his chest before he can get too cocky about it.
“C’mon now,” he mutters, eyes glinting up at you while his tongue drags across the cut in his lip, soothing the sting. “You’re not my coach. You’re not one of the guys.” His gaze lifts to yours again, darker now, quieter. “You’re my girl.”
“I am,” you hum, moving a little closer to his lips.
“And…” he adds lower, lashes dipping for half a second before meeting your eyes again, “Garrett sounds better when you say it.”
“Yeah?” You tease softly, fingers sliding around his neck, through the damp curls at the back.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Love when you say my name—” His words cut off when your hand traces lower, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking slowly. “‘Specially when you're proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, Garrett,” you praise and he takes the compliment like air. He moans when your thumb brushes over his thick tip of his dick, his brows furrowing while his lips part. “Easy, Garrett,” you murmur. “You’re getting a little needy for me.”
“A little?” He laughs softly, breath catching when your thumb brushes the tip again. “You’re pushin’ it—me. All of it.”
“The offer to stop was there—”
“Baby, I’m injured,” he complains softly. “Feels kinda fucked up not to let me cum.”
“I don't think you're ready,” you whisper as you reach down, thumb brushing along his chin where a little blood smudged. He parts his lips, eyes locked on yours as he sucks it clean. “I could get outta here if I wanted, you know. Lucky I’m playin’ nice.”
“So am I. You’re enjoying this, baby. Stop trying to play tough with pink panties around your wrists. I know you love it.”
He laughs softly under his breath at that, teeth catching briefly on the split in his lip. He watches you for a second like he can’t decide whether he wants to argue with you or watch.
“You done talkin’,” he asks hoarsely, voice rough and low, “or are you gonna keep torturing me for fun?”
You giggle against his skin. “So my panties around your wrists and my hand around your dick is—”
“One of my favorite things you’ve done, yes.”
“It was torture a second ago,” you counter with faux concern.
The tip of his cock drips precum, sliding in a lazy tear over your knuckles. “Fuck you.” He chuckles.
“You’d like that,” you grin as you lift your hand, licking his mess off the back. “Look at how relaxed you are.”
“You’re actually gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he laughs under his breath.
You move between his legs, smirk dying on your lips as your mouth parts, that dangerous look still burning in your eyes as you lick a slow line up the underside of his cock, following a vein, watching his biceps flex as he tests the panties holding him in place.
“Standing down by the glass,” he says, breath hitching as you swirl your tongue over the tip. “Playing against your ex.”
“Mhmm,” you whisper.
“You know how much shit I took. Three periods of reminding me all about his favorite things about my girl. And, I couldn't say shit. Couldn't even tell Coach why I went in the box in the first place.”
You run a line of spit down to his throbbing head as you stroke and he shivers, feeling it roll down the slit, gliding down the side.
“Been keeping this a secret for six months. Think I deserve something—Fuuuck.” His head slams back into the pillow when he finally gets it. “Yeah… that’s it, baby.”
Your lips stretch around his cock, eyes flicking up to watch his reaction. Garrett’s lashes flutter shut, mouth falling open, chest lifting as you sink down again. You moan around him, the sound making him shudder.
“So fuckin’ good,” he pants.
You wrap one hand around the base, slick with spit, and stroke as your mouth works the head, dragging your tongue along the ridge. He groans again—deep and filthy—his fists clenching above his head.
“Shit. Shit—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he grits through his teeth, muscles locking under you. “Gonna cum in that pretty mouth—”
His whole body coils tight as you suck, slurping, gagging, throating his length as he fights back his pleasure.
A loud moan breaks past his lips, filling the room. He hisses out a breath as he feels the sharp sting, bottom lip trembling. “God, damn—just… You’re…” His voice cuts off, too far gone to finish, filthy-wet between your lips and the thick length of him—too much for you to take, but you’re trying anyway.
Garrett pitches his hips, meeting you stroke for stroke, eyes squeezed shut as his thigh muscles tremble.
“Fuck me,” he whines, your name whispering past his lips as he empties into your throat, cock throbbing while his voice breaks into a sobbing, pathetic laugh. “Shittt—oh my god—fuck—” He chokes on his words, hands twisting into fists above him.
You pull off him slow, kissing his swollen, pulsing tip. He throws his head to the side, pressing his mouth to his bicep, shuttering out a pathetic breath when you kitten-lick his cock; body jumping with each cruel flick.
“Pussy,” his voice comes out slurred. “Give it to me—fuckin’ need it, alright?”
You bite your lip, holding back a smile as you crawl up over him—tits brushing his chest, his face flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving—you wrap your hand around him again, pumping slow as you guide him toward you.
He’s still recovering when you line him up, circling your hips just enough to tease the head against your slick folds.
“So good,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Oh my fucking god, baby—” You slide down on him, hands pressing against his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath until you're fully sat.
“Fuck, Garrett,” you breathe as you drag your hips. His eyes lock on the wet place where you connect, lips parted like he's trying to think of something to say, but the thought dies there instead.
He tugs at the panties roughly, brows furrowing, lips snarling as he forgot for a second he was tied up. You lean forward over him slowly, chest brushing his as you lower yourself toward his mouth, smiling when his breath catches.
“Can’t even slap your fuckin’ ass—” CRACK! Your hand smacks against your own skin, cutting off his complaint, and he groans beneath you like he's getting some sick secondhand pleasure from it.
“Bounce for me,” he rasps, lips vibrating against yours. You push yourself upright again, hands slapping against the metal rail above his head, and his eyes snap back.
Your pussy swallows up the length of him, hands braced on the bed frame between his—like you own the room. Like you own him. “So fucking perfect for me—”
He curses loudly as he throws his hips up to meet you, making the whole damn bed creak.
Heat coils low in your stomach, your thighs starting to shake around him. “Yes, baby—cum like this. Use me, c’mon,” he pants. Your pussy pulses with your heartbeat, wild and quick, fluttering around him as you cum; Garrett thrusting up into you so deep your vision blurs.
“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he grits out, the tone of his voice proud like he knows you won't. His mouth falls open, his eyes rolling back, the muscles in his chest tight as his fists lock. “I’m cumming, shit.” The look on his face and the deep, fucked-out sound of his voice make you shatter above him.
Your head’s pounding so loud, ears ringing so high you can't hear the praise leaving his lips, but you know it's there.
He fights the restraints—the lace tearing slightly.
You smile as you start to grind again, nice and slow, swirling your hips, slick dripping down his big cock, making him suck his teeth.
Garrett’s still twitching underneath you when you finally slow down enough to breathe, his lungs still working hard beneath yours. The lace strains again when he flexes his wrists, biceps swelling, his whole body slick with sweat.
“That was perfect, baby,” he says, still breathless. You laugh softly, brushing damp curls off his forehead. You lean down, kissing his cheek over the bruise, soft and careful.
“You okay?” You ask, assessing the damage.
“M’fine, baby,” Garrett answers immediately, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at you. “And honestly? Worth it.”
“Garrett.”
“What?” A lazy grin tugs at his mouth before he winces at the split lip.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Guy spent three periods talking about you like he was gonna be the one here after all this.”
“He’s an idiot,” you whisper.
His eyes flick away for a second before landing back on yours. “Kept acting like he knew you better than me.”
“Baby—”
“I know,” he says quickly. “Just pissed me off.”
“He doesn’t know me better than you.”
Garrett stares up at you for a second. “Finish junior year. One more season,” he murmurs, “and it will be you and me.”
“You’ve really thought this through, huh?” You ask, cheeks burning with your smile, finger tracing absentmindedly on his bare chest.
“Been in love with you for months, baby. Had time,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, pulling back just out of reach from where he's still bound, chasing it before he lets out a little growl of a breath.
“I love you too,” you coo, and he huffs, rolling his eyes away. Your hand comes up, grabbing his cheeks between them, squeezing just enough to pout his lips. “If I untie you,” you tease softly, “are you gonna behave?”
He takes a moment to think it over. “Probably not.”
“Garrett.”
“What?” He says, a chuckle catching in his throat, eyes warm now. You glance up toward the headboard, finally noticing the pink lace stretched tight between his wrists, strained enough now that you realize that Garrett Graham is only still there because he’s letting himself be. “Kinda getting used to it—”
“You know what?” You murmur, brushing your hands over his chest, fingers straightening his chain on his throat. “You’re right.” Garrett lifts an eyebrow as you speak. “This is exactly where you should be.”
Garrett’s eyes flick toward the stretched lace for half a second before landing back on yours. That cocky, hockey-boy smile spreads on his lips. “Why are you like this, huh?” He asks quietly.
“You’ve been behaving so well for me.”
“You done playin’ coach now?” He asks.
You open your mouth to answer him, but Garrett suddenly plants his feet into the mattress beneath you, muscles tightening hard underneath your hands— SNAP.
🎀💕 taglist on my pinned post 🏒 @rafesthroatbaby @liss2709-blog @sushi-girl04 @judesgfirl @cdiaz18 @fiercetigerpoison @obsessedwrafe @vanillaiceyhot @maialopez23 @rexit-mo @georgiastars13 @princessaaa13
ִֶָ. .་༘࿐ PAIRING. garrett graham x inexperienced! reader
SYNOPSIS. you lose your virginity to the Garrett Graham.
ִֶָ. .་༘࿐ WARNINGS. 18+ smut
⤷ ˎˊ˗ authors note, my obsession for garrett and off campus is growing every second. i need s2 so bad. ALSO this is one of my fav things i’ve written so far so i hope you guys enjoy! leave reqs in my inbox! i love hearing your thoughts :)
Garrett hovered above you, his hazel eyes full of laughter and want, while you lay on the mattress, breathing quickly and trembling. "Still sure about this, baby?" he murmured in a low, husky voice as his fingertips brushed your naked side. His hands were on either side of your head, imprisoning you and making you feel small and owned. "Because once I'm inside you- there's no going back."
Biting your lip, you nodded. "Garrett, I want you. I want it to be you.”
He grinned darkly and contentedly at that. His tongue glided into your mouth as he moved in to give you a slow, deep kiss. Even if you hadn't said it yet, he owned every aspect of you.
You gasped as he proceeded slowly and deliberately down your body, pressing kisses to your throat, down your chest, and sucking at the skin just above your breast. Beneath him, you were shivering, nude, and softly squeezed your thighs together. However, he had already tasted everything. touched every single thing. "You're fuckin' perfect," he whispered as he ran his fingers over your hips after tasting it. “I’ve been waiting to fuck this tight little virgin pussy."
Your heart was pounding as you writhed. You said, "I need you, G”
He begins kissing your collar bone, which is visible through your shirt. He began putting small kisses on top of dark, bruised hickies that were all over your neck and chest. Garrett was able to comprehend what you needed since you continued to tighten your thighs. He kissed all the way down your stomach until he reached the top of your pajamas. When he gazed directly into your eyes, you nodded and pulled him in the direction of your tender spot.
Your underwear was still on when he took off your shorts. He dropped to his knees, moved your legs to either side of his shoulders, and looked directly into your eyes. He moved in closer and began kissing the inside of your thighs. When you made a quiet sound, he looked down and noticed the wet spot on your panties, which motivated him to assist you in solving your issue more quickly.
He began caressing your underpants in gentle circles. You muttered, "More please." He smiled at your condition; you're already drenched and he hasn't done much. "Whatever you need, baby." As he began to pull off your underwear, he said.
Garrett didn't spend any time. He took one hand away from you long enough to fumble at his belt, his fingers sloppy with urgency as he pulled it free. “I promise i’m going to take care of you. I’ll be gentle” he reassures you.
He didn't ease you into it or give you the typical easy slide in. As soon as he set himself free, he began to draw you in, aligning himself more out of need than patience. His breath caught as soon as he saw you, then he suddenly pushed in.
Your body clamped around him as the sudden, full stretch hit, causing you to cry out. Garrett’s head dipped forward as if the sensation had pushed the rest of him loose, and he moaned at the feel of it.
"Shi-"
The phrase cracked into something rougher in your throat.
Before your body could adjust or catch up, his hands grabbed your hips and began moving you once more. As he brought you into action, his hands clamped onto you, fingers digging in.
Garrett pulled out and in once more, barely an inch, but the blow was as forceful as the first. Your body tightened around him as if it couldn't decide whether to push him out or take him, and your hands shot to his shoulders, squeezing in as another cry escaped you.
He sensed it right away.
His hands gripped you more firmly, stabilizing, grounding, and preventing you from pushing away. "You're doing so good for me," he continued, his words harsh with admiration, his head lowering slightly so that his voice didn't have to travel far when he spoke. "You can take it. I'm sure you can. Just be relaxed, i’m right here with you”
You were aware that Garrett's comments were intended to be helpful, but that didn't stop the thoughts from hitting where it hurt the most.
No matter how tight the stretch grew, he continued to push in, inch by inch, never actually pausing or giving any of it back—just that constant pressure that kept growing. As your body struggled to take him, to open around something that still felt too much, you bit your lip and dug your fingernails into his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered against your skin, the words slipping out even as he continued. His mouth found your neck and stayed there, kissing, sucking, working at the same spot as if he knew exactly what it took to get you through this part and was doing it without letting you think too hard about anything else. "I'm almost there... you're taking me just right, just like that.."
At last, he pushed himself all the way in.
The stretch flared and calmed, and the sound that emerged from both of you followed. His sound was deeper and rougher, drawn directly from his chest as he fully filled you, while yours was intense and breathless.
At first, Garrett moved slowly, barely pulling out before pushing back in, as if he was allowing your body to acclimate to him while he remained heavy and deep. However, it was short-lived.
His hips drove into yours with greater power and intent as his rhythm quickened, each thrust coming a bit faster and harder.
It couldn't be anything else because of his size.
Your body drew in as if it didn't want to give up any of him; every push drove all the way in, and every time he pulled out, you immediately felt the loss of it, that abrupt, too obvious emptiness. Then he was within you once more, deep enough to cause the pain to resurface. It didn't end.
Every time he drove into you, his body moved over yours with only heat and weight, pushing you further into the sheets. The harsh sound of it filled the room next to you, and its intensity never lessened, each movement landing hard enough to keep your breath catching and shattering.
Your body was absorbing every inch of him as if it didn't know how to handle it, and the stretch and fullness were still too intense.
Even so, he felt incredibly amazing.
The sounds you were making no longer even attempted to make sense. Every time he pushed into you, they emerged uneven and strangled, catching somewhere between his name and something rougher and more broken that was pulled out of you repeatedly.
"That's it," he uttered in a low, strained voice, pausing between breaths as he observed you disintegrate beneath him. "Feels so good... you feel so good for me."
He moved onto one forearm, getting nearer and positioning himself just enough to grab your hand.
His fingers encircled it and then guided it lower, pressing your hand into your stomach at the exact spot where each of his thrusts struck.
Without warning, your body constricted around him, and as the pressure continued to rise, your breath caught again as it became heavier, sharper, and too much to ignore.
"Perfect for me," Garrett said, pressing your palm farther into it as he held you against it.
The words quickly overwhelmed you, causing your body to collapse around them. Your voice broke as it tore from you, and it was loud and unsteady. At the sensation, Garrett let out a low groan. His pace faltered for a brief moment before he continued to push through and drive into you as you broke apart beneath him.
Garrett leaned in and kissed you once more. His own breathing was harsh against your lips as his body pursued it, and he kissed you through every sound and aftershock that tore through you.
It struck all at once, a strong pulse that pushed him deeper into you, instantly warming you from the inside out.
All of it was felt by you.
The warmth. The weight of it. The way he remained there with it.
"You're perfect," he whispered against your lips, planting another kiss there as if he truly meant it. "You did so good, baby..." he said, his mouth sliding against yours as his voice became low and steady once more.
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ pet names, swearing + sexual tension 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈-𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉
900 words
Garrett tells himself he’s in shape enough for this. Which should be true, in theory, considering he skates nearly every day of his life and spends entire games sprinting across the ice with grown men trying to slam him into the boards.
So why the fuck is hot yoga trying to kill him?
His dark curls are already soaked by the time the instructor tells everyone to move into another pose, espresso strands sticking to his forehead while sweat slides slowly down the side of his throat.
The room smells like essential oils and sweet vanilla perfume, a far cry from the usual sharp tang of hockey gear and wet dog he’s used to during workouts. The lights are warm and soft, music pouring out of the speakers, the entire ambiance just adding to the punchline.
Garrett Graham might pass away in downward dog.
But you, you are the only reason he’s not showing all his cards.
You stand on the mat to his right, your bubblegum pink set taunting him with every stretch—hugging every curve with each deep breath. The idea of peeling it off you before a shower after you’re done is the only thing keeping him from throwing in the towel here and now.
You bend over, hands planted on the mat in front of you, ass lifted in the air, leg extending higher; the blueprint of what he was supposed to do, an abstract execution following on his end.
Garrett stares for a second too long before dragging his gaze away with a sharp exhale through his nose. His thighs quake, one knee collapsing to the floor below him, drawing a few eyes, cheeks rosy with embarrassment.
You give him a little nod of encouragement, unwavering in your stance, and he’s right back with you, possessed by pride and the need to impress the woman who giggled before she unrolled the mat, letting him know “this will be easy for you, baby.”
Easy… Easy? Girls in matching yoga sets don’t fucking play.
That’s the conclusion he’s come to after exactly fifteen minutes in this studio, fifteen more minutes to go. If he lives.
He adjusts his position on the mat, broad shoulders flexing beneath the gray compression shirt darkened with sweat down the center of his chest.
The movement pushes his shirt tighter across his stomach for a second, muscles flexing beneath the sweat-dark fabric as he exhales.
His thighs ache. His abs burn. His legs stretch and pull in ways that would make a goalie blush.
Meanwhile, you barely look winded.
You flow into another stretch smoothly, calm and pretty, while Garrett nearly topples sideways trying to copy the instructor.
His jaw tightens immediately. No fuckin’ chance.
No way in hell he’s walking out now.
Especially not while you’re looking at him like that.
His dark eyes flick toward you while you move. You bite your lip, fighting back the little giggle you’ve been holding in off and on for the last ten minutes since you heard him first groan, each moan and grunt setting something off in you because even though he’s embarrassed beyond belief, the struggle alone has you blushing.
“Garrett,” you whisper softly, glancing over at him. “You okay over there?”
“Perfect,” he lies instantly.
Laughter slips into your voice now, cheeks burning from your smile. “Your legs are shaking.”
“They are not,” he scoffs through a lazy laugh, like you’re imagining it all. “M’just hot, pretty. That’s all.” He drops to his knees, tugging his shirt over his head, leaving his body bare, drawing eyes for a different reason entirely.
You catch a few smitten glances from the women around you as he drops into a plank, forearms flexing hard as he braces himself on the mat, black curls falling into his eyes while sweat drips from the sharp line of his jaw onto the mat beneath him. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he still manages a crooked little smile.
His chain swings forward slightly with every rough breath he pulls in. He pushes his hips into the floor, back arched, settling into the stretch, brows pulled taut.
“You think this is funny?” He asks out of the corner of his mouth.
“A little.”
“Looks familiar though, huh?” You tuck your head away, trying not to let the laugh slip much further than your lips. And, yes, it looks familiar. And yes, you were feeling an extra burn in your body today after a long night with Garrett. His body hovering above yours in almost the exact same position he’s in now, pinning you to the mattress.
The instructor starts explaining the next pose and Garrett immediately drops his head between his broad shoulders. “Fuck my fuckin’ life,” he mutters, the tattoo between his shoulders highlighted with sweat while you giggle again.
And when the instructor tells everyone to reset for the next round, Garrett lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard before standing again, towering beside you with flushed cheeks, damp curls, and the deeply betrayed expression of a man realizing yoga might actually be harder than hockey.
His hands rest on his hips, shorts slung low, trying to breathe through it as the instructor urges you to take a relaxing breath. Every muscle is etched like stone, abs flexed; a subtle trail of dark hair disappears below the fabric, v-lines half-hidden by the way he grips his hips, making it impossible to focus before he reaches up, combing his fingers through his wet curls, trying to center himself.
“C’mon, captain,” you tease gently. “Thought hockey players had good stamina.”
His dark eyes dart toward yours immediately, eyebrow lifting, and you don’t even need to know what he’s gonna say next to know where his brain is headed because this man’s got stamina where it counts.
“I’ll give you a reminder when we’re done.”
thanks for reading 🩵 I’m painfully new here. Hi!!! ☺️
Player: Antoine Griezmann.
Words: 7083. Grab a snack, a drink and sit your cute ass down because this is long.
Type: Smut. AU.
Warnings: livestreams, amateur p*rn, OF style subscriptions, masturbation and mutual masturbation, use of toys, voyeurism, protected sex, dirty talk, strong language.
You are responsible for your own consumption. Do not read if you don’t like this type of content.
A/N: I’d wanted to write something like this for a long time, then I saw the video the banner is formed from and it just put everything into motion (even if it took me 4 months to write). Content no-one asked for, but I hope it’s enjoyed nonetheless.
I’m not against writing more of this, but I thought I’d see how this went down first. If you enjoyed this and want to see more, please like/reblog/send an ask/comment/show it love.
sweetdreams - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader
summary: Aching for some release, Nicholas finds himself browsing a cam site and stops dead when he recognizes a familiar bedroom on one of the thumbnails.
a/n: eek, I've been sitting on this one for a bit - I'm not even sure why. but I like it, it was fun to write LMAO also rip TikTok. I deleted the app over a year ago bc it destroyed my brain but ik lots of ppl still love that app so rip I guess. anyway lmk if you liked this one! I have a few more fics but idkkkk
reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!
The glow of my laptop screen on the bed illuminated the cozy pale purple walls of my bedroom. The fairy lights hanging along the fabric draping the backside of my bed added a soft warmth to the otherwise dimly lit space with a few tapered candles here and there on my nightstand and dresser to set the mood. I adjusted the camera perched on the tripod next to my desk, angling it toward my bed where the sheets were already perfectly rumpled by design.
I didn't do it because I needed the money. I always paid my bills on time — rent, utilities, student loans, cellphone, gas, insurance, and groceries — but my entire paycheck would go to just that. And no matter how much I tried to break up my checks or stagger payment dates, the same thing always happened: I never had enough money to splurge on myself. I wanted the money. So bad.
There were so many things I wanted to buy for myself, so many trips and concerts and restaurants I wanted to be able to experience, but I never could, not unless I saved up the little leftover money I’d have for myself for months and months at a time just to be able to accompany my friends to a mid-scale restaurant. It was a little embarrassing for me, frankly. I just wanted to be able to be with them during all those moments, not sitting at home bored with incredible FOMO.
That’s why I decided to start camming on the side.
I didn’t do it frequently, just when I anticipated buying something I had been wanting — like a nice pair of boots or some furniture — or wanted to go out with friends, and it wasn’t an easy decision for me to make either. I spent close to a year mulling it over, really weighing my options, and honestly, it was the only one I was comfortable enough to explore, surprisingly.
I mean, I masturbated anyway. It was in the privacy of my room with no audience, sure, but why do something for free when you could be making some money out of it? And all I had to do to hide my identity was get a second bank account, move all of the identifying pictures out of the way, buy myself a nice, sexy mask that obscured a majority of my face, and stream on an out-of-the-way cam site I was sure most of the people in my life would not be privy to.
At first, it was incredibly intimidating. My sex life was borderline nonexistent, and I was basically about to expose myself to strangers on the internet. I could barely speak during my first stream, but over time I became more comfortable with my movements and my voice — almost confident, even. But that didn’t mean I still didn’t get nervous before every stream, like now.
As I laid on my bed and pulled the black lace mask over my face, I let out a slow, steadying breath, fingers hovering over the trackpad of my laptop, the cursor teasing the ‘Go Live’ button. And then I clicked it.
sweetdream is live.
On the other side of town, Nicholas came home exhausted, but most of all frustrated. Shooting had been absolutely brutal this week, and the constant tension in his body was driving him insane. It didn’t help that he barely had any time to go out with his friends or even entertain the girls in his DMs and maybe hook up with one of them to blow off some steam.
But he didn’t want to deal with any of that right now. He was just so exhausted; how could he possibly have the energy to even pretend to be interested in whatever conversation his friends or those girls had to say? He wanted something here, something now.
Nicholas tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and kicked off his shoes, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the fridge and reached in for a nice, cold beer before retreating to his room. The familiar solitude of his apartment felt suffocating tonight, the silence amplifying the ache in his chest and the tension coiling low in his stomach. He threw himself onto his bed, letting out a quiet groan as he reached for his laptop on the nightstand and set down his beer with a dull thud.
He hadn’t forayed into the world of internet porn in over month, but he did it like clockwork — reaching into his nightstand drawer for his wired headphones and sticking them into his MacBook’s audio jack before carefully placing the laptop over his thighs and waking it to life.
Nicholas’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as his thumb rubbed over the trackpad, opening a private window and typing in all of the familiar site names — PornHub, Xhamster, XVideos, hell, even XNXX. He scrolled for a bit on each, hoping at least one video might catch his attention and fully awaken his half-hard cock, but none of them were hitting the way he wanted — needed — tonight.
They all seemed too polished, now. Way too much makeup and studio lights. Makeup and studio lights was all he worked with on set, and the last thing he wanted was to jerk off to work. Frustrated, he closed the tabs one by one. He needed something different — something raw, something real.
He didn’t visit cam sites often, but when he did, they delivered exactly what he was looking for. Something authentic. So, without any hesitation, he clicked through his bookmarks and clicked the out-of-the-way cam site he had come across months and months ago deep in the pages of Google.
Nicholas leaned back against the headboard, the familiar homepage of the cam site loading in front of him, colorful and bright and borderline blinding, the screen illuminating his face and reflecting off his wooden headboard. A variety of thumbnails greeted him, showing live streams in progress. Women of all shapes and sizes, their expressions ranging from coy to confident, teasing the camera.
He scrolled lazily past the wall of endless thumbnails, picking up his beer and taking a lazy swig as he sifted through, trying to find someone who caught his eye. Most were the same: over-the-top angles, exaggerated expressions. They all felt…off. Too staged. Too fake. They all blurred together, until one made him stop dead in his tracks.
His thumb froze mid-scroll, and he nearly choked on his beer, setting the bottle back down on his nightstand as he stared at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed at the tiny square. His cursor hovered over the thumbnail, magnifying it just a smidge.
The thumbnail was simple — cozy lighting, a tidy bedroom with a familiar-looking duvet cover, and a girl wearing a delicate pink satin lingerie set, her face obscured by a lace mask that looked like it had been plucked right out of a Venetian mask shop during Carnival. The room in the background had pale lavender walls, warm fairy lights adorning the wall where the headboard of the bed would be, and candles flickering in the background. It was all familiar. Way too familiar.
“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, the words rumbling at the back of his throat.
He leaned closer to the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers twitched over the trackpad before he clicked, the stream loading painfully slow as the rainbow wheel spun. He held his breath, his entire body tense as he waited for the image to appear.
And when it did, his stomach dropped.
It was her.
It was me.
The shy, sweet, (Y/N) he’d known for years. The girl who blushed when someone so much as mentioned a sex scene in a movie. The same girl who stumbled over her words anytime he called me ‘baby’ in that teasing tone he so loved to use. The girl that hasn’t been on so much as a real date in the time he’s known her.
I was sitting there on his screen, laying on my side and propping myself up by the elbow, dressed in soft pink satin lingerie, my body glowing under the warm light of my bedroom as I read chat.
Nicholas’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he was certain it would burst. His eyes were glued to the screen, unwilling — or unable — to look away. He leaned in closer, the reality of what he was seeing crashing into him like a freight train.
My fingers lightly traced the satin straps of my bra, my voice soft as I spoke to the camera. The black lace mask obscured the top half of my face, but there was no mistaking it — it was me. My voice, my laugh, my nervous little gestures.
“My day was fine; thank you for asking,” I sheepishly smiled as I read a comment from chat, my finger tracing down to my leg, idly trailing up and down my hip, my voice thrumming through Nicholas’s headphones loud and clear.
“What the fuck,” Nicholas whispered to himself, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. He wasn’t half-hard anymore; he was hard as a fucking rock.
The chat on my screen lit up with messages, dozens of anonymous names firing off compliments, tips, and lewd suggestions. Nicholas’s stomach churned, a mix of guilt, confusion, and something darker coiling low in his gut.
He should have closed the tab — hell, he should’ve slammed the laptop shut and never spoken of this to anyone — but he didn’t. Instead, he turned up the volume and watched.
Nicholas’s mind raced as he stared at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. He should’ve stopped. Should’ve closed the tab. Should’ve shoved the laptop away. Hell, throw it across the room if that’s what it took to stop watching. But he didn’t.
Instead, his hand drifted lower, instinct overriding logic as his cock strained painfully against the fabric of his sweatpants.
I shifted on the bed, sitting back on my heels, the delicate pink satin stretching over my body as I leaned closer to the camera. My fingers brushed the lace of my mask before trailing down to the straps of my bra, teasing the edge.
“Let’s see,” I murmured, scanning the chat, my voice carrying a nervous lilt. “You want me to take my time tonight, huh?”
The chat box on my screen lit up with requests and donations, the little dings echoing faintly in the background. I leaned forward, my cleavage filling the frame as I adjusted the camera slightly.
“Thank you for the tip, Anonymous,” I said shyly, a smile tugging at my lips.
Nicholas’s chest tightened as his cock stirred in his jeans. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The idea of me, his quiet, unassuming friend, doing something like this was utterly surreal, utterly impossible. It was impossibly hot.
Johnny88 donated $100: take off ur bra
The moment the donation notification lit up the chat, Nicholas’s jaw clenched. His hand froze mid-motion, hovering over the waistband of his sweatpants.
$100.
The chat was eating it up, emojis flooding the stream, accompanied by crude, explicit comments urging me to follow through. I hesitated for a moment, looking at the message on my laptop screen, my expression shy but playful.
“Wow… Thank you, Johnny88,” I murmured, my voice soft but steady, betraying a nervous edge. “Guess I don’t want to disappoint, huh?”
Nicholas’s breathing deepened, his cock aching as he watched me slowly slide the straps of my bra off my shoulders, my fingers trembling slightly as they trailed over my skin. I glanced at the chat again, clearly gauging my audience’s reaction.
His stomach churned with something primal, a mix of possessiveness and desire that made his head spin. He wanted to hate himself for watching, for indulging in this, but the truth was, he was riveted. Every little movement, every shy smile, every flicker of hesitation only made it worse. And then my hands reached around my back to undo the clasp and the bra came off.
Nicholas groaned under his breath as the satin slid down my arms, revealing my bare chest to the camera. My hands instinctively moved to cover myself at first, but then, slowly, I let them drop, exposing myself completely.
I bit my lip, my hand beginning to knead at my breast, a little whimper escaping my lips as I pinched my hard nipple. “Is this what you wanted?” I asked, almost teasingly.
Nicholas’s breathing hitched, his hand clenching into a fist against the mattress as his other slowly moved to hook itself around his waistband. The sound of my voice, soft and teasing, sent a jolt straight through him. He felt like the biggest fucking pervert alive, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.
My fingers teased the hem of my panties, my hand brushing over the top of my center as I sat on my knees in front of the camera, waiting for a little more donations to roll in before deciding to pull them off.
Nicholas’s hand trembled slightly as he lifted his hips up slightly to pull down his sweatpants along with his Nike briefs to free himself, his throbbing erection springing out. He hated himself for how hard he was, for the way his body reacted to every soft, breathy sound I made, but god, he was transfixed, his eyes locked on the screen as I teased the camera, my fingers toying with the waistband of my panties.
The sound of a new donation chimed through the speakers. Another request. My eyes flicked to the laptop screen, and a shy smile curled on my lips as I read the message aloud.
“Anonymous tipped $100. Hmm…” I hesitated, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “Panties off, huh?”
Nicholas’s jaw clenched as I kneeled in front of the camera, my chest moving out of the top of the frame as the image of my panties filled the screen. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and tugged them down just enough to tease. My movements were deliberate, slow, and sensual, and Nicholas’s hand moved instinctively to wrap his pulsing length.
I slipped the panties lower, finally revealing myself completely to the camera. I maneuvered myself on the bed to pull my underwear out from under my feet before dangling it in front of the camera to show my viewers the large damp spot, quietly giggling. “God, look how wet I am already,” I whispered, more to myself than to my audience.
The chat exploded with comments. Compliments, pleas, and donations rolled in, but Nicholas barely registered them. He groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he watched me. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with arousal as he started to stroke himself, his eyes fluttering shut before opening again. The sight of me, naked and confident, teasing the camera with that shy giggle, had him utterly captivated.
I reached for something out of frame, my trustee delicate pale pink rabbit vibrator, and settled back on the bed, glancing at the camera with a shy, almost apologetic smile. “I thought I’d… try something new tonight,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to make his cock ache.
Nicholas couldn’t help the groan that rumbled low in his throat as he watched me turn the vibrator over in my hands, inspecting it like it was new to me, even though I knew exactly what I was doing. Every movement was calculated to tease, to entice, and fuck, it was working.
His strokes quickened as I brought the toy closer to my mouth, running my tongue over the tip before sucking it gently. His eyes darkened, his breathing heavy as he imagined those soft lips of mine wrapped around him instead.
Love69 donated $50: wish that was me
“Fuck off,” Nicholas gritted his teeth at the donation, his jaw tightening as his hand worked his cock faster, the sight of me teasing the camera sending a wave of heat straight through him. The jealousy coiled low in his gut as the chat lit up with messages, strangers clamoring for my attention, showering me with tips and crude remarks.
The donation pulled a soft, breathy laugh from my lips, and I tilted my head, looking directly at the camera. “Oh, do you?” I murmured, my voice dripping with a mix of innocence and teasing. I ran my tongue along the length of the vibrator again, swirling it slowly before pulling it away, letting it hover just above my lips. “Sorry, Love. I’m imagining someone else.”
Nicholas froze, his hand gripping his cock mid-stroke as the words left my lips. The soft, teasing tone in my voice sent a shiver through his entire body, but it was the words themselves that hit him like a truck. The idea of me thinking about someone else while putting on this show, teasing, and playing for the camera — it was both maddening and painfully arousing.
His jaw clenched, and a low, guttural sound rumbled from his throat as he stroked himself harder, his frustration and desire tangling into something almost primal.
Who the fuck was I imagining?
The thought shouldn’t have mattered. This was a fantasy, an act. I was catering to an audience of strangers, faceless men who threw money at me for a show. But the way I said it — the soft lilt in my voice, the way I bit my lip, my eyes flicking to the camera with a hint of mischief — felt too real. It felt personal.
With his free hand, Nicholas reached into the front pocket of his sweatpants, fumbling to pull out his wallet. “Let’s make you talk, baby,” he whispered to himself as he pulled out his debit card with one hand, placing it between his teeth as he tossed his wallet aside.
Nicholas’s fingers trembled as he typed in his card information, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. He’d never done this before — never donated, never left any comments in chats, never tried to interact with anyone on these sites — but tonight was different. I was different. He needed to know. He needed to push.
His cursor hovered over the donation button for a moment before he clicked it, his heart pounding in his chest as he typed out his message. It wasn’t flashy or crude like the others; it was pointed, deliberate. He hit send.
NC17 donated $50: Who are you imagining, baby?
The donation notification popped up on my screen, and I froze, my eyes widening slightly behind the lace mask. I could feel the flush on my neck creep to my cheeks. Nicholas smirked, his hand wrapping around his cock again as he watched me squirm. He could tell I was thrown off, that the question had hit a little too close to home. The way I hesitated, the slight nervous laugh — it only made him harder.
I shifted on the bed, the rabbit vibrator still in my hand as I trailed it over my nipple, glancing at the chat hesitantly. “NC17, thank you,” I smiled nervously, a tiny moan escaping my lips as the vibrator worked the tip of my nipple on a low setting before dragging it down my stomach, then between my legs. “That’s a secret,” I replied breathily before smiling softly, “Funny username, though,” my voice had softened, carrying a teasing edge, but Nicholas caught the crack in it.
Nicholas’s smirk deepened, his hand moving faster along his length as he watched me squirm on screen. That crack in my voice wasn’t just from the teasing act — I was flustered, genuinely caught off guard, and that knowledge sent a rush of satisfaction through him.
Funny username, huh? Of course, I wouldn’t recognize it. But he’d made me pause.
Nicholas’s free hand hovered over the keyboard again. His initial hesitation was gone now, replaced with something more daring, more possessive. He wanted to push further, wanted to see just how much I would let slip under the guise of anonymity.
NC17 donated $100: Spread those legs wider, baby. Does he know you think about him?
I bit my lip at the donation, my cheeks boiling hot as I obliged the viewer’s request. I spread my legs at the knees, giving the camera a perfect view of my my self. Nicholas’s breath hitched as he watched her glistening folds on full display. I let out a soft, shaky moan as I spread myself open with one hand and led the vibrator to my clit with the other. “No, he doesn’t,” I moaned as my eyes fluttered shut, my back arching against the pillows.
Nicholas groaned audibly at the sound of my voice vibrating in his ears, his hand gripping his cock with a newfound intensity as the words left my mouth. The admission echoed in his head, feeding the dark coil of desire and jealousy tightening in his chest. His strokes quickened as he watched me writhe on the screen, the vibrator pressed against my swollen clit as I let out a series of soft, breathy moans.
The possessiveness inside him surged. He couldn’t stop himself now, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way my body moved, from the way I responded to the toy teasing me mercilessly. His free hand hovered over the keyboard, his need to push me further overriding any guilt or hesitation he might have felt.
NC17 donated $100: do you know him?
I read the donation but threw my head back in pleasure before I could answer, audibly moaning at the sensation of the vibrator circling my entrance while my free hand kneaded at my breast. “Uh-huh,” I whimpered.
ilike2fuck: stretch yourself out
cheekybasstard: god ur so perfect
m1lfluvr: fuuuck
Nicholas’s breath caught as he saw me falter, my body arching on the bed as I moaned in response to the chat’s demands. His grip tightened on himself, his strokes growing more erratic as he watched the screen. The way I answered his question, breathless and soft, set his mind ablaze. The way I whimpered, the way I let the vibrator tease me, was driving him insane. He wasn’t just watching now — he was consuming me, feeding on every sound, every movement.
My hands stilled for a moment, and I reached off-screen, grabbing a small bottle of lube from my nightstand. The slick sound of it being poured into my hand sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Nicholas’s body, his cock twitching in his hand as he watched me stroke the vibrator with the jelly. “Not that I need it, but it never hurts,” I spoke quietly as I watched my hand spread the jelly over my cute toy.
“Shit,” Nicholas groaned through gritted teeth, his thumb brushing over the swollen head of his cock with every slick stroke.
His mind was racing, trying to piece my answer together. His stomach twisted with a mix of jealousy, desire, and something dangerously close to satisfaction. I knew him, whoever he was. Was it someone I worked with? Someone in our mutual circle? Or — god forbid — someone I was secretly seeing? The idea made his grip tighten, his strokes becoming rougher as his possessiveness took over.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, barely giving himself a moment to think.
NC17 donated $100: Tell me about him.
I leaned back against the pillows as I silently read his donation, the vibrator gliding slowly over my folds before dipping inside, my moan trembling and raw. “Fuck,” I whimpered, throwing my head back as my mouth fell open. “He’s… so fucking hot,” I breathed through my moans, inserting the entire vibrator into myself slowly before taking it out again and repeating the process. “God, so hot.”
The chat erupted in a flurry of commands and compliments, the dings of donations coming in a constant rhythm.
Nicholas’s jaw clenched as I moaned those words, his strokes faltering for a second before he tightened his grip and picked up his pace.
So fucking hot.
The way I said it, the way my voice cracked and my body arched on the screen, sent a surge of heat through him. But the thought of who I was talking about — the mystery man in my head — had his chest tightening with jealousy.
“Not good enough,” Nicholas muttered to himself, his eyes darkening as he watched me keep my answers vague.
His hand paused on his cock as he stared at the screen, his breathing heavy. His free hand hovered over the keyboard, typing furiously before sending another donation.
NC17 donated $150: What does he do to make you so wet?
Johnny88 donated $100: fuck yourself from behind
Nicholas’s jaw was tight as his donation slid to the top of the chat in bold. He watched my lips curl into a small smile, my cheeks flushing as I rolled myself over on my knees, lifting my hips in the air while I rested my face on the pillows, back arched to the max. I angled my head to look back over my shoulder to keep reading chat while I guided my vibrator under me, giving the camera the most salacious angle as I continued working myself.
“He’s so fucking cocky,” I whimpered, the words spilling from my lips as the toy disappeared inside me. “And he always calls me ‘baby.’”
Nicholas’s head fell back against the headboard at my confession, his free hand gripping the sheets beside him as he watched me. It was him. I was talking about him. And the realization sent a jolt of primal desire coursing through his body.
His strokes grew faster, more desperate, as I buried the vibrator inside me, my body trembling slightly with the sensation. My moans started to grow louder, more uninhibited. I whimpered, my free hand gripping the sheets as I teetered on the edge. “Shit,” I gasped, my body arching as I pushed the vibrator even deeper, the pleasure overwhelming. “Yes, yes—oh, fuck. Right there.”
Nicholas clenched his jaw, his strokes matching the rhythm of my movements on screen. His chest heaved, his mind consumed by the image of me — his sweet, shy friend — coming apart in front of him. Every moan, every gasp, every broken cry of pleasure drove him closer to the edge.
“God— sh—,” he groaned under his breath, his hand tightening around his dick. He muttered endless curses under his breath as I thrusted the vibrator in and out, my glistening slickness catching the light from my laptop and candles just perfectly. He couldn’t stop. Not now.
On screen, my body tensed, my back arching as the vibrator brought me closer and closer to release. “God, yes,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “He’s so—fuck—so perfect.”
Nicholas’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he leaned closer to the screen, his other hand trembling as he typed another message, desperate to push me further.
NC17 donated $200: Tell me how you want him, baby.
The donation notification flashed on the screen, bold and demanding. My breath hitched audibly, my gaze flicking to the chat. My cheeks flushed behind the mask, my lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in my throat.
The chat exploded with messages, urging me to answer, but Nicholas only cared about one thing — my reaction. He could see the hesitation, the nervous flicker in my expression as I glanced at the camera. And then, finally, I spoke.
“I want him everywhere,” I whispered, my voice breathy and raw. My free hand trembled as it gripped the sheets tighter. “I want him to kiss me, touch me, take control… I want him to fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”
Nicholas let out a low, guttural groan, his hips bucking into his hand as my words pushed him to the brink. I whimpered on screen, my body trembling as the vibrator worked me relentlessly. “Yes,” I gasped, my voice breaking as I teetered on the edge. “Fuck—I’m all his. Only his. S-so close,” I muffled into the pillows.
Nicholas’s strokes grew frantic, his breathing ragged as he felt himself losing control. He couldn’t stop now, not when I was so close, not when the thought of being the one to make me fall apart consumed him.
NC17 donated $500: say his name when you finish and I’ll double it
My moans hitched at the sight of the donation flashing across the screen. My chest heaved as I pressed the vibrator even harder against myself, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body. The chat went wild, messages flooding in, but all I could focus on was that one donation — that one command.
Say his name.
My fingers trembled, my grip on the toy faltering for a moment as I let out a shaky breath. My body burned with pleasure, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, and yet, all of them led back to him. My lips parted, but no sound came out at first. The knot in my stomach tightened, my thighs quivering as I teetered on the edge of release.
Nicholas’s hand froze mid-stroke, his entire body tense and his cock pulsing — begging for friction — as he waited. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He leaned closer to the screen, his grip on himself almost painful as he hung on to my every movement, every sound.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered under his breath, continuing to stroke himself slowly as he leaned back against the pillows. “Say it. Say my fucking name. I know you can do it.”
My entire body trembled, the heat building inside me threatening to consume every last thought in my mind. The chat blurred in my peripheral vision as my head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping my lips. The vibrator pulsed against my clit, my hips moving in time with its rhythm as I teetered dangerously close to the edge.
Nicholas’s name burned on the tip of my tongue, the demand in the donation rattling around in my head. The promise of doubling the already insane amount made my breath hitch, but it wasn’t just about the money — it was him. His name. The thought of saying it out loud while I came, letting it slip for somebody’s entertainment when I have only ever yelled it for myself, made my pulse race.
I gasped sharply, my hips bucking as the vibrator hit just the right spot. “Yes,” I moaned, my voice high and breathy, trembling with need. My free hand gripped the sheets tighter, my body writhing on the bed as I edged closer and closer. “Oh, fuck. I’m—”
Nicholas clenched his jaw, his strokes quickening. His cock throbbed in his hand, pre-cum slicking his length as he watched me come undone. The chat was exploding with comments, but he didn’t care about any of them. All he cared about was me — and that donation.
I buried my face in the pillow for a moment, muffling a desperate, trembling moan as the vibrations coursed through me, pushing me closer to the edge. My entire body was taut, teetering between pleasure and release, the tension unbearable. Lifting my head slightly, I turned toward the camera, my cheeks flushed deep red beneath the lace mask.
And then it happened.
The knot in my stomach snapped, and a loud, raw cry tore from my lips. My body arched, every muscle trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over me. “Nicholas!” I cried out, my voice breaking as I came, his name spilling from my lips like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was. My entire body convulsed and dropped onto the bed, violently trembling from pure pleasure.
Nicholas froze, his entire body locking up as the sound of his name filled his headphones. “I—Fuck!” Nicholas’s eyes fluttered shut as he growled, his hand gripping himself tightly as my orgasm unraveled in front of him. My moans, my trembling thighs, the way I arched my back and collapsed onto the bed in the aftershocks — it was too much, and he let go.
A guttural groan tore from his throat, his cock twitching in his hand as he came, his release spilling over his fist and shirt in hot, sticky spurts. His head fell back against the headboard, his breathing ragged and heart pounding against his ribs as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, utterly spent. “Good girl,” he quietly panted.
When he opened his eyes, I was still trembling and avoiding the camera’s gaze, my body slowly relaxing as I came down from the high. My cheeks were flushed, my breathing heavy, my hair a little mussed from the mask’s elastic band slipping off just so, and there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. “Fuck, that was amazing,” I whispered.
Nicholas reached for a box of tissues on his nightstand and wiped his hand and tried to clean as much of his shirt as he could, then reached for the beer bottle on his nightstand and took a swig to quench his thirst, a small smirk on the corner of his lips.
I reached for a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning up the toy and myself before glancing back at the camera. The chat lit up with more comments and donations, all of them praising my performance but I only had one thing on my mind.
“Where’s that donation you promised, NC17?” I asked with a coy smile, rolling over on my stomach and tossing my vibrator aside.
Nicholas chuckled under his breath, his chest still rising and falling heavily. He shook his head, leaning forward to type on the keyboard. He typed in the payment details again, adding the promised donation with a smirk tugging at his lips. His cursor hovered over the “send” button for a beat longer than necessary before he clicked it.
NC17 donated $1,000: You earned it, baby. Don’t spend it all at once.
The notification flashed on my screen, bold and unmistakable. My eyes widened slightly and I froze, my breath hitching audibly as I stared at the amount. The most I had ever made in a single stream — in a single donation. The chat immediately erupted with reactions, some congratulatory, others envious that it hadn’t been them to make the donation, but I barely noticed them.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, sitting up slightly and brushing my hair back, my fingers trembling as I adjusted the mask that had slipped slightly during the stream. “NC17, you are the best. Oh, my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you. That’s… wow. You’re amazing.”
Nicholas leaned back against the headboard, his smirk deepening as he watched my reaction. The way my voice trembled with gratitude, the way I bit my lip nervously — it was all too much, too intoxicating. It sent a thrill through him, knowing he was the one making me react like that.
“Damn straight,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his damp hair as he reached for his beer again. He took a long swig, his eyes never leaving the screen as I began to wind down the stream. His chest still heaved slightly, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened.
“I think that’s it for tonight,” I said softly, my voice carrying that familiar mix of shyness and playfulness. “Thank you all for being here. And thank you again, NC17. You’ve been… incredible.” My eyes flicked to the chat one last time, lingering on his username before I smiled and waved. “Goodnight, everybody. Sweet dreams,” I blew a kiss to the camera.
sweetdream has ended the stream.
With that, I leaned forward and ended the stream, the screen fading to black. I sat back against my headboard, letting out a shaky breath as I pulled off the lace mask. My cheeks were still flushed, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the laptop, the donation total lingering in the corner of the screen.
Across town, Nicholas shut his own laptop with a quiet click and pulled off his earphones, tossing both aside and running a hand down his face once reality started to creep back in. He’d just crossed a line — one he couldn’t uncross. He’d watched me, his friend, in a way that was impossible to forget. And worse, I’d said his name. Called out for him while I fell apart on camera, in front of God knows how many strangers. Even worse, he’d dropped over two thousand dollars just to see it happen.
He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. He knew he’d have to face me eventually. Knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this secret forever. But for now, he let the smirk linger, his mind already spinning with how to handle the situation.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and teasing as he reached for his beer.
➷ a/n. based on this request ♡ i'm still learning to write rough smut so please be kind :) requests are open && feedback is deeply appreciated ━ as always ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
┆warnings. adult content ━ minors dni. somnophilia!, wet dreams, dry humping, dirty talk, slight daddy kink, use of "whore", "bitch", "slut" during sex, multiple orgasms (m&f), spanking, spit kink, squirting, overstimulation, size kink, creampie. wc. 3162
You could always tell when Nicholas came home pissed. It happened once in a while, after a terrible day on set or on an audition. First, the door to your shared house flying open ━ then slamming with force. Then, the sound of keys being thrown on the cabinet ━ you flinched every time the sound reached your ears, worry blooming in your chest. And of course, the silence ━ there was no usual "Babe, I'm home", instead he moved around the interior nervously but quietly, taking off his jacket swiftly.
This time was no different. After having to redo the scene for the thousandth time due to his colleague's incompetence, he was just tired. He had to hid his emotions for the whole day ━ and he wanted nothing more to see your angelic face, somehow it always brought him comfort.
His cock twitched in his pants uncomfortably, as always when he had a bad day. He found his only solution to the anger bubbling inside of him to be you. He looked forward to seeing you, fuck, he was so horny he could barely wait until the day was over.
What surprised him, though, was the silence. He didn't hear you moving around on the couch, there was no sound of TV playing in the background. He sighed, the frustration inside of him growing, and he realised that maybe he was the problem.
The lights in the living room were on, but there was no trace of you ━ even though your smell lingered on the air, almost taunting him as he breathed it in softly. He called out your name ━ nothing. With defeat, he accepted that you probably were already long asleep.
He entered your shared bedroom, the sight of you making his breath hitch.
You were sprawled out on the bed, hair falling beautifully on your face. Your lashes fluttered in your sleep, and your mouth was slightly open. Your ass on full display when he stood in the doorway, your ━ his ━ t-shirt pooling around your small form, rolling up and resting at your waist. The thong you wore was leaving a little to the imagination; he stared at your backside for a little too long, but he didn't look away; not even once. The uncomfortable feeling of his cock pressing against his pants was beginning to become overwhelming, as he took a step towards your sleeping form.
His shirt was long gone, along with his pants as he slid down next to you, not daring to touch you. Not just yet. He watched the way your hips trembled against the soft blanket between your legs, and he couldn't help but groan helplessly. A incoherent sound left your mouth as you moved once again, hand tangling itself in the sheets, lashes fluttering.
He couldn't help it; before he knew it, he was freeing himself from his boxers, his cock landing against his stomach with a quiet but obscene sound. Your hips moved against the blanket, and Nicholas watched, hand around his cock, moving up and down slowly. His thumb brushed against the tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum on the soft head. He hissed, the pressure deliciously painful, but not enough to make him satisfied.
"Nick", he could hear your whimper, clear as day even though almost inaudible.
You were having a wet dream.
He smirked when his name left your mouth yet again, louder this time, almost as if he was slipping away from your fingers.
His hand left his cock as he laid on his side, right behind you, pressing himself against your backside.
He twitched at the feeling of your soft skin, his hands roaming around your body greedily, and a moan left your mouth ━ but you were still asleep.
Nicholas held back a moan of his own, but the tension in his abdomen was too much for him to just ignore it. He gripped your thigh, lifting it just enough to reach your covered pussy. Instead of taking your panties off, he slipped himself in between them and your cunt.
Nicholas groaned shamelessly when he felt your wet slit, and he tested the waters by thrusting his hips against your backside, the friction of both your pussy and your drenched panties on his cock making him hiss.
"Nick━ Oh━ W-What are you doing?", your sleepy voice barely reached his ears as he pressed himself against you yet again, the wetness covering his dick completely, nothing but pleasure filling his mind.
"Just need to feel you, doll. Go back to sleep", he hushed, but your eyes already snapped open, and your hips responded by pressing back against him.
Nick's hand wrapped around your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks, and you moaned, head lulling back against the pillow.
"You had a wet dream, hmm?", he whispered lowly, right into your ear, his hips snapping into you with precision that made your clit throb against his girthy length. You nodded frantically, and Nicholas groaned, the sound sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.
His arm slipped under your head, hand pressing down onto your neck with just enough pressure to leave you lightheaded. Your hand reached back to feel any part of him when the head of his cock pressed into your clit deliciously, and your stomach tightened.
"The only thing I could think about today was this god damn pussy. You're so fucking wet for me. Just a little slut ready to get fucked, even in your sleep. That's fucking pathetic, really" he chuckled, and you cried out, his cock twitching against you, signalling that he was holding back from really pressing into you.
Even though horny as hell, he didn't want to disturb your sleep ━ as much as he wanted to fuck you dumb, his respect for you went further than that.
You, on the other hand, now fully awake, now choking on your breath, nearly tripping over the edge right there and then. Nicholas' shaky breath reached your ears, the damp material of your panties clinging to his dick every time he thrusted his hips.
"Nick, I━ Baby, please, don't hold back", you moaned out, twisting your body so that you could look at him, and the sight of him pulled another moan out of your throat.
His hair was falling down on his forehead messily, eyes half closed as he lost himself in the feeling of your body against his. His mouth was slightly agape, breathy moans leaving his throat every now and then, his jaw looking as sharp as ever in the dim lightning.
As soon as he caught your gaze, you were already on your back, legs spread wide as he tore your drenched panties and shirt off your body.
"So fucking beautiful. And all fucking mine", he groaned, removing his shirt off his body before leaning down to press his lips against yours. There was no softness in his movements as he grabbed your ass, your body melting into his as his cock pressed into your lower stomach.
"You think you can take me? Huh? Can this little pussy take me?" he whispered, pulling away just enough to see your face, his hand travelling down to linger just above your clit. There was no warning before he slapped it roughly; your hips rose off the bed, a desperate cry leaving your mouth at the sudden shock.
He smirked, dick twitching against you, another slap landing right on your pussy, his other hand gripping your jaw tightly to make you look at him.
"Fucking answer me. Use your words if you want this dick inside of you".
You were breathless, the sting on your lower abdomen making you embarrassingly more wet, and he didn't even touch you properly yet.
"Please, please, daddy━ Use me, I need it so bad", you whined, the kinky name slipping out of your mouth before you could even register. Nicholas' eyes visibly darkened as he plunged into you in one swift movement; giving you no time to adjust before snapping his hips into yours roughly.
"Yeah baby, just like that━ Fucking take me", his voice was strangled as your tight walls convulsed around him, struggling to adjust to his size. It hurt, but it hurt so good when he forced himself into you, bruising your cervix with every movement. "Squeezin' me so good. You're such a fucking slut, God", you moaned in response to his words, obscene sounds of your bodies meeting rapidly filling the room. You threw your head back, but Nicholas was quick to tangle his hand in your hair, forcing you to watch him when he fucked you into the mattress. His other hand travelled across your body, groping your breasts, tugging at your nipple with urgency that left you breathless.
Nicholas' mouth opened in a dirty smirk, and you took in the sight of his chiselled chest glistening with sweat, muscles clenching with every withdraw of his hips. You cried out when you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, ready to snap any second now.
"I can feel you clenching around me, go on, baby, come for me", he groaned ━ the moment the words left his mouth you were screaming, your legs forcing to close as you saw white, creaming around his cock, squeezing him so tightly ━ almost begging him not to leave just yet.
Nicholas' eyes fell closed at the feeling of you clenching around him, but he held himself back from coming right there and then ━ he needed more. And he knew you did too.
"Fuck, Nicholas━", you managed to get out as tears rolled down your cheeks. He forced your legs open, pressing your thighs against the soft mattress, allowing him to plunge himself even deeper.
"God, you feel so fucking good", he groaned, his voice raspy and dangerously low. You could feel his cock so deep, hitting spots you didn't know existed ━ making you see stars yet again. "My perfect little slut. So wet, so warm".
Nicholas made sure you could feel all of him as he moved his hips expertly; slow but rough, letting you feel the pulsing veins of his dick against your velvety walls.
He leaned forward, his hot breath reaching your face as you looked up at him, eyes threatening to close at the sight of him against you.
"You're s-so fucking hot", you managed to let out and he chuckled, his dark eyes scanning your face. "You look so good above me, Nick━ I just can't get enough. You're so big━", you gasped when he stilled, hips flush against your ass, letting you feel all of him.
He reached down to trace his fingers against your stomach where a visible bulge formed; his cross necklace swinging just above your face when he looked down at when you two met.
"My cock's gonna be engraved in your pussy━ I'll fucking make sure of it". And you believed him, with how deep he was inside of you, how he seemed to pierce right through you. He met your gaze again, your pussy fluttering around him at the intense eye contact. One of his hands gripped your jaw, his lips ghosting over yours as he bottomed out of you yet again; beginning to thrust into you fast and rough.
Nicholas' eyes never left yours, his gaze penetrating your soul ━ and you gripped his arms, the feeling of his massive biceps making your head spin. His hand on your jaw tightened before his thumb pressed against your lower lip, signalling that he wanted your mouth open for him.
Nicholas' other hand moved from your stomach down to your hip, his nails pressing into your skin and you knew he'd leave marks there. You certainly didn't mind, though; his hips drilled into you, balls slapping against your ass as he moved in an inhuman speed. His thumb slipped into your mouth, a shameless groan leaving his own when you swirled your tongue around it, sucking it just like you would if it was his cock down your throat ━ before lightly biting on it.
"Good fucking girl, now open that slut mouth, let me see your tongue━ just like that", he praised and you shivered, sticking your tongue out, looking up at him through your lashes.
You were already close to your second orgasm ━ and when he leaned over you, his hot spit landing on your tongue, all that while looking deep into your eyes ━ you swore you could cum from the sight alone. "Swallow", he ordered, his movements becoming sloppy but never slowing.
You obeyed and he groaned, pressing his lips against yours, his tongue intertwining with yours in a passionate dance ━ the contrast between his rough thrusts and the way he kissed you so slowly and deeply ━ making your whole body shake.
You whined into the kiss, unable to breathe but not quite wanting to pull away as you felt his cock twitch inside of you. "I'm gonna breed like a little whore", Nicholas groaned, a hint of desperation in his voice as you clenched around him, nodding frantically, not being able to speak.
"Nick, I━ I'm right there━ ", you gasped into his mouth, and before he could say the magic words, you were already convulsing around him, squirting all over his cock and thighs. Nicholas pulled back, watching his dick disappear into your pussy, each thrust making some more of the transparent fluid gush out of you. He twitched, muscles tense as he tripped right over the edge. Before he could stop himself, he was filling you up, groaning your name, hands gripping your hips painfully hard.
You whined at the feeling of his dick twitching frantically, his cum coming in spurts as he filled you up. The final waves of your release washed over you as he dropped his head back, savouring the moment of your tight cunt gripping him like a vice.
You squealed as Nicholas fell back on the bed, forcing you to sink on his cock as he laid down, thrusting up into you slowly.
"Ride me", he instructed, and he looked a mess ━ his cock became even harder inside of you; your tits right in his face as you bounced on his lap.
You propped yourself up, hands running over Nicholas' hard chest, biting your lip at the sight of him. His eyes glistened with desperation that he tried to hide; you tested the waters by grinding down onto him, the feeling of your clit pressing against his lower abdomen making your head spin. He was so deep, the new angle making it hard for you to adjust to his size. You clenched around him, beginning to bounce up and down, not holding back, your desperation clear as day.
"Fuck, just like that", he groaned, his hands finding your hips, guiding your movements. You threw your head back; his girthy length abusing your g-spot with every move you made. You slid up and down as fast as you could, and Nicholas swore he could see stars; he bit his lip, unable to choose where to look ━ your face, your tits bouncing right in front of his face, or the way your pussy sucked him in. He spanked your ass cheek ━ both of them ━ alternately, savouring the way you clenched around him every time he did so.
You were growing weak, and Nicholas sensed that ━ he pushed your lower back, pressing you tightly against his hard chest, before his hips started to snap into yours once again.
Both of you moaned ━ not holding back in the slightest. Nicholas gripped your ass tightly, keeping you in place as he ruined you. You hid your face in the crook of his neck for a second, before one of his hands slid up your back, finding your hair, tugging at it with force that left you breathless. Your back arched, his cock pressing even deeper into you, your eyes rolling back involuntarily.
"You're fucking ruined for me━ Letting me use you however I please, taking it like a greedy little slut━ Fuck, keep on clenching on me, baby", he almost whined, pressing wet kisses against your collarbone, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room.
You were a whiny mess on top of him, clenching around his cock just like he asked you to ━ euphoria filled your stomach as you could feel him everywhere at once, another orgasm beginning to take over you.
"Tell me you need my cum inside of you", he demanded, his thrusts becoming sloppy, and he struggled to catch his breath. "Tell me you want me to fill you up. Fuck, I need you to say it, now", he slapped your ass, surely leaving handprints all over it; the thought of being so obviously claimed by him making you cry out.
"Please, daddy, fuck━ I need you to come with me, please, give it to me", you nearly screamed, tears rolling down your face from the overstimulation.
Nicholas groaned at the sight, his face twisting in pleasure. "Come with me, then. Cum all over me, you little bitch━ Fuck, I'm right there".
That was everything you needed ━ you clamped around him, screaming out, falling forward onto his chest, and Nicholas let out a strangled groan; he forced your hips down as he busted his load into you for the second time. Your whole body shook as you cuddled up into him, shameless moans leaving both of you as you grinded against him. He twitched inside of you, your pussy clenching down on him with force, overstimulating his already spent cock.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, both of you breathing heavily, savouring the moment of being so close to each other.
After a few minutes, you finally looked up at him, eyes half-closed, a big smile lingering on your lips.
"So, care to tell me what happened?", you asked, genuine care in your voice, and Nicholas chuckled lowly, meeting your eyes.
"How did you know?", surprise clear in his tone as he traced his fingertips against your back soothingly.
"Well, you're always extra rough after a hard day at work━ not that I mind", you smiled playfully, and Nicholas rolled his eyes, amused. "I just wanna be there for you".
Warmth filled his chest at the pure honesty in your voice, and he pressed a loving kiss on your sweaty forehead.
"Tomorrow, baby. Let's just rest now", he murmured, and you nodded, cuddling into his chest, your arms resting comfortably around his shoulders.
"I love you, Nick", the sentence came out as barely a whisper, yet you felt the need to let him know before you fell asleep.
"And I love you, my pretty angel", he played with your hair, smiling to himself when he felt your body relax, drifting off to a peaceful sleep.
