it’s casual, dean is a little less than casual when he sees someone elses hands on you.
Babe, part 2 | @/bitchinbarzal
dean has his sights set on punching hunter in the face, you, his ex girlfriend won’t let him.
Blurb | @residentheartache
That dress | @/residentheartache
Dean swears your dress will kill him
Casual is never Casual | @g0ldendesiree
dean was the one who asked for things to be casual, so why does it feel like torture watching you be okay with that?
The Offer | @/g0ldendesiree
when dean gives you an offer you can’t refuse, you end up on the one place you never thought you’d be. the ice.
Last Time | @/g0ldendesiree
when dean ends up in a fight on the ice, it leaves words to be said between you both.
Out of Your Head | @/g0ldendesiree
when girls keep on trying to get Deans attention, you can’t help but get into your head about it.
DEAN HEYWARD-DI LAURENTIS | @edawgz
Dean was the boy no one could get enough of. The thing was, you just didn’t get it… until you did.
That’s how they roll. | @balletteens
the dates that made us | @buckpunny1
You’re close friends with none other than Dean Di Laurentis, oftentimes bordering on the edge of something more. What happens when he makes a mistake at a party and has to win you back?
in sickness and in health | @/buckpunny1
You manage to get sick right before one of Briar U’s biggest hockey games of the season. You try to hide it, but Dean always notices. Good thing he loves taking care of his best girl.
safe space | @/buckpunny1
After a long day, your worries catch up to you in the form of a panic attack. Dean comes just in time to help pick up the pieces.
series masterlist | @girlontheruin
In which Garrett Graham’s older sister (22) comes back into his life, in hopes of mending their broken relationship. A little help from Dean Di Laurentis has you lowering your highly built walls of defence. Brick by brick he shows you exactly how you can depend on someone.
Off Limits | @pennylanefics
dean is captivated by the girl he's been told to stay away from
Overheard | @/pennylanefics
you overhear a conversation from dean's friend's that you weren't exactly meant to hear
Baby Doll, part 2, part 3 | @dilaurentispuckbunny
You were walking into the hockey house with your friends, Hannah and Allie. Your brother, Garrett Graham, lived here with his teammates and friends. John Tucker, John Logan and Dean Di Laurentis. You all attend Briar University (Briar U). The guys had won a game tonight, which meant that it was party time at the house, the house was packed with people. More specifically, Puck Bunnies.
High Maintenance | @/dilaurentispuckbunny
Dean's teammates make fun of him for finding a high maintenance girlie, you hear this and get upset.
the world won’t end. | @stellasfictionalworld
in which dean takes care of his close friend as she lets loose, including bringing her home and suddenly everything clicks for him.
best friend’s sister | @sourcherryandsprinkles
Pushups | @/sourcherryandsprinkles
You and Dean get called out for being loud in bed | @/sourcherryandsprinkles
when the pre-med girl with the perfect GPA meets the hockey player with the far from perfect reputation, neither of you expects to become each other’s biggest distraction. You’ve got your whole life planned out. He’s never planned anything past Friday night. But somewhere between study sessions and split lips, you discover that the scariest thing isn’t falling, it’s admitting you want to
controlled burn, part 2 | @/pucksandpower
you don’t tell him your last name. By the time Dean finds out, he’s too far gone to do anything but brace for impact. Falling for the ice-cold, vodka-drinking Russian freshman is one thing. Falling for Ilya Rozanov’s little sister is a death wish. Dean decides he doesn’t care
yours, still | @/pucksandpower
Dean has never held on to anything — not girls, not feelings, not the memory of a childhood best friend who disappeared across an ocean at fourteen. Then you walk back into his life on a brisk October morning, and every carefully constructed wall he never knew he had built comes down in an instant. You came to Briar to disappear. You didn’t count on being found
civic duty | @/pucksandpower
Dean has never met a problem he couldn’t charm his way out of or a woman he couldn’t leave completely satisfied. So when he overhears a football player publicly blame you for his own failures in bed, Dean does the only logical thing: he shows up at your doorstep with a duffel bag full of toys and a mission
dean di laurentis x reader | @lizard-on-a-window-pane
Ambidextrous | @/lizard-on-a-window-pane
you and dean are super into each other, even if other people are idiots and don't get it; he’s willing to throw punches for you, but you prefer other things he can do with those hands…
sfw alphabet | @alliehyes
Imagine | @briarpilled
you and dean have been best friends since forever, there was hardly anything you could ever keep from each other, so it's not surprising all it takes for you to confess your feelings is a very short-tempered dean and his excessive urge to defend your honor.
His Favorite Distraction | @desoiry
Dean interrupts your gaming moment to steal all your attention.
The Ring | @andy-15-07
I Don’t Know How To Do This | @/andy-15-07
Come Sit With Me | @/andy-15-07
Heaven in Disguise | @/andy-15-07
The Jersey Problem | @/andy-15-07
Falling Apart Quietly | @/andy-15-07
Confessions | @writingsforfandoms-multi
what happens when reader is encouraged by the guys to confess her feelings to Dean
Unimpressed, part 2 | @kuebandungs
Dean Di Laurentis is loud, arrogant, and has a smirk with dimple that makes you want to throw something at his face. You called him a playboy to his face. Now he won't leave you alone. You tell yourself he's just annoying you for fun and you have nothing to do with him. Until one day, you realize you're looking for him in every crowd. And that's when you know you're in trouble.
when did you get hot?, part 2 | @incase0femergency
as garrett graham’s little sister you’ve known the hockey boys since you were in high school and now that youre in sophomore year of college you’ve decided to transfer to briar u. what the boys didn’t know about you was that you had definitely grown up.
“DO I MAKE YOU NERVOUS?” | @thevoicefromanotherworld
Something to take the edge off | @sc3ptre
You were always off-limits. The coach’s goddaughter, the team’s PR girl and the one woman Dean couldn’t have…but the thing about limits was that it was still a line to skate over.
I would’ve done that sober | @/sc3ptre
Stairway to heaven | @/sc3ptre
THE TEACHING, | @fleurcient
Where the school playboy and your brother's best friend asks you for advice on how to be good "boyfriend material" to win over your best friend Allie
More than one night | @eu-nicola
A night with Dean was a mistake and you knew it the next day when you found out that he was messing with your sister but things didn't end there
Unplanned: The Reveal | @baby-alien11
nothing else mattered | @wh1msymaddy
all in, baby | @/wh1msymaddy
in which a sudden encounter between you and dean breaks the months of silence that chased you two, and a steady Dean is finally ready to be the anchor that you need
aye, captain | @/wh1msymaddy
during a halloween party, dean di laurentis meets his match. it turns out that it's actually his best friend's sister in a magic mike costume.
never met a foreign girl, you say? | @/wh1msymaddy
in which you're an exchange student doing her year abroad at briar u, and despite being warned against getting involved with hockey boys by the girls who quickly become your best friends, you just seem to keep orbiting around a certain blond
like no other | @wingsofangeldust
you think he forgets about you, but you're all he can think about.
I love you so matcha! | @shortnspidey
Dean is completely wrecked after his first ever Pilates class which means a cold drink sounds heavenly. Or the one time Dean’s girlfriend forces him to try matcha after his first Pilates class.
stage five clinger | @/shortnspidey
A simple cold turns Dean Di Laurentis into Briar’s most dramatic patient, leaving his teammates desperate enough to call the only person he’ll listen to.
Hold On | @/shortnspidey
Beau’s death leaves Dean shattered beyond recognition. Haunted by grief and slowly unraveling, the boys turn to the only person who might still be able to reach him before he loses himself completely.
Dean has an obsession with leaving hickeys on you ! | @ririsaltar
Coach’s Daughter | @jadeittic
dean di laurentis is used to charming everyone he meets. until he unknowingly spends an entire meal flirting with the one girl he absolutely shouldnt: coach jensen’s daughter.
Wrong Number, Right Person | @harryssattelitestomper
Single blues, pt.2 | @mariclerc
where the girls take you to a costume party and things change a little bit for you.
Mine | @sunbaby01
when Dean denies being jealous and Beau tests that theory
Dimples and Kisses | @land0sc21
Dean distracts you from your work by showering you with kisses, showing off his dimples and leaving you utterly wrecked
Chefs Kiss | @deansgirl66
Sunday Mornings! | @/deansgirl66
Waking up to the smell of coffee only to find Dean in the kitchen, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants making pancakes. Because you sent him it on TikTok. But it gets a little heated.
The Arrival | @random-ly-obssessed
College Baby. | @toonice113
Somehow you find yourself co-parenting with the biggest manwhore in all of Briar U.
Begged | @iceyngi
You’re used to begging for affection and validation
Long day | @/iceyngi
Mr. Mom | @book-lish
Damn You, Frat House Bathroom | @/book-lish
Please Believe Me | @sombrrlife
A football player kisses you as a joke, but the video that was leaked made it look like you kissed back. Dean doesn’t believe you, which ended into a breakup. You find each other a few weeks later at a party and the truth comes out.
Sugar Rush | @flannelshirts-and-fingerguns
After you accidentally ingest some powerful love gummies, Dean has to deal with the aftermath.
it’s time to lose your mind and let the crazy out | @gxbbywrites
It’s one thing to rile you up—after all, you get riled up rather easily—but to piss Dean off is another. Dean—your voice of reason with the patience of a saint when it comes to you—is different when he is triggered, especially when it involves you.
The glasses | @midnightmax
Dean always thought his girlfriend was just unbelievably clumsy. Turns out, she simply couldn’t see. One eye exam changes everything—but not her talent for finding trouble.
Y/n finds out that Dean and her are expecting a baby.
karaoke night | @/sourcherryandsprinkles
BOYFRIEND MATERIAL | @garrettgrahamswhore
dean di laurentis needs a fake girlfriend for his family’s charity weekend. unfortunately, the girl he asks is the one person who can’t stand him. even more unfortunately, she might be the only one who can make it believable.
The Damn Party | @townsendbaby
When y/n finds out that her drink has been spiked she has no one to turn to but Dean, her enemy. Dean finding y/n knocking at his door in her barely conscious state brings up clashing feelings.
MDNIwarnings: smut, public sex, little medical talk about a strained adductor, dirty talk, bestfriend!reader 34+35's dean… ~1,050+
"Dean, I told you not to go full out during practice. You need to rest that hip.” You huff, gently massaging the nearly naked Dean sprawled on the examination table. He had an adductor strain that the med staff, you most importantly, had to properly check on to make sure he didn’t worsen the strain with his practice drills. “Pace yourself, or say goodbye to the Briar U Hawks.” You add, making sure he understands the importance.
“Aye, I know, doc,” he says with a small groan at the pleasure-pain mix from your warm, skilled hands. The towel covering his cock shifts as he moves his hips, and you gently fix it with a small laugh at the lame nickname he had for you as you kept your professional composure.
“Stop squirming, you big baby,” you tease, your voice bright even as heat creeps up your neck. Your fingers glide along the tight muscles of his inner thigh, working the strained adductor with careful, firm strokes. “I swear, you hockey boys are all the same..think you’re invincible while your body says otherwise.”
Dean’s sweet, lust-filled eyes flick up to yours, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips despite the wincing. His golden-blond hair is damp from practice, and his chiseled torso was still glistening with a light sheen of sweat. “Mmm, but I’ve got the best hands on staff taking care of me. How’s a guy supposed to behave when those hands are sliding up his thigh?”
You arch a brow, fighting a grin as you press your thumbs into a particularly tight knot. He hisses, then lets out a low groan that goes straight between your legs. “Flirting with your medical staff? Bold move, Di Laurentis. Especially when I could ask the coach to bench you for two weeks.”
He chuckles, “Worth it...besides, we both know you like taking care of me.” His gaze drops pointedly to where your hands are working very close to the edge of the towel, taking his lip between his teeth. “And I like when you do, especially when you do it in that cute little nurse outfit...” He says still thinking of your costume from the most recent Maxwell–Di Laurentis Birthday Bash, where you were a sexy nurse and your best friend, Grace, went as a sexy patient.
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “You’re impossible..aand stop moving that towel around or I’m going to—”
The towel slips again as Dean deliberately shifts his hips. This time, it falls open completely, revealing his hardening cock. It was already curving up toward his abs, jumping at the cold of the room. You pause, fingers stilling on his thigh. A soft, amused laugh escapes you. “Really? Right now?”
Dean gives you that signature shameless grin, dimples popping. “Can you blame me? You’ve been rubbing me down for ten minutes in those tight little shorts. My dick has a mind of its own when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
You bite your lip, trying and failing to keep your professional mask in place. The dirty side of you wins out. “Well, as your medical professional, I guess I should probably check for swelling…ya know to make sure everything’s functioning properly.”
Dean’s eyes squinting and filling with lust, “Oh fu—yes examine me, doc.”
You don’t waste anytime. Your hand slides higher, wrapping around his thick length with a slow, (gently) nail raking stroke. Dean groans, head falling back against the padded table, hips twitching up into your grip.
“Shit, your hand feels good,” he rasps. “Been thinking about this since I left your dorm last week. That so-called ‘one time thing’ is turning into a problem.”
You lean over him, your free hand still massaging his inner thigh while the other pumps him with firm, deliberate strokes. “Maybe you’re just addicted to my bedside manner,” you quip, voice flirty, a big contrast to your professional side. “Or maybe you just like being told what to do by someone smarter than you.”
He laughs breathlessly, then reaches up and tugs you down into a passionate kiss. His tongue slides against yours, while one of his big hands palms your ass with a small squeeze. “Smart mouth,” he growls against your lips. “Get up here...I want to taste you while you’re playing doctor.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You climb onto the table, carefully straddling his sweaty eager face while facing his cock. Dean yanks your uniform shorts and panties down in one quick motion, and the second his mouth latches onto your pussy, you moan way too loud. “Fuck, De—”
His tongue rolls relentlessly, licking broad stripes through your folds before flicking rapidly over your clit. He groans into you, the vibration making your now sweaty thighs tremble. “So fucking sweet...missed this pretty pussy.”
You lean forward, taking him into your mouth in return. The angle was absolutely perfect, you bob your head, sucking and stroking while he eats you up. Smacking and wet noises filling the room. Dean’s hips buck gently, careful of his injured side, but his mouth never stops working you over.
When your legs start shaking and your moans grow higher, but he doubles down, sucking your clit hard until you come with a loud gasping cry, grinding against his face. Praying that all the others are still in the workout room across the facility.
Dean doesn’t let you recover. He flips you gently onto your back, mindful of his hip, and settles between your thighs. His eyes wild with lust as he rubs his cock through your slick folds, getting a slight feel.
“Need to be inside you,” he says roughly. “Tell me you want it too, baby.”
You cup his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. “I want you, Dean. Now! Fuck me like you mean it, but don’t you dare hurt that hip, or I’ll kill you.” Even in a moment of passion you can't help but make sure he heals properly.
He laughs at your warning, but continues to push in slowly, stretching you open with a deep groan. “So tight, huh… always so fucking perfect for me.” He starts a steady, rolling with a nonverbal rhythm, mindful of his injury but still incredibly intense. His mouth finds your neck, sucking marks as he thrusts.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick of lust. “Taking my cock so well in the training room like a naughty little medic...what would everyone say if they knew? Hm? What would Tucker and John Logan say about their favorite medic getting fucked by their best friend, huh?”
You wrap your legs around him, locking him in as your nails dig into his muscular back. “They’d say I’m the luckiest girl on campus. Now shut up and make me come again, hotshot.”
Dean grins wickedly and picks up the pace, one hand slipping between you to circle your clit. Your moans mix with his filthy praise until you shatter around him, again, clenching so hard he follows right after, burying himself even deeper and groaning your name into your neck as he fills you up.
Afterward, Dean collapses carefully beside you on the wide table, pulling you against his chest. His big hand strokes soothingly up and down your back, the cocky energy some how melting into gentle affection.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Didn’t hurt my hip too bad… but I might need regular treatment from you for the next few weeks.”
You laugh softly, nuzzling up against his warm skin. “Regular treatment, huh? I think that can be arranged. But only if you actually rest when I tell you to, you stubborn hockey boy.”
Dean chuckles, dimples flashing as he tilts your chin up for a lazy, sweet kiss. “Deal. As long as my favorite doc keeps wearing these little shorts while she ‘treats’ me.”
You swat his chest playfully, but your smile is bright and full of promise. “Hm..that could be arranged."
summary: you try to leave for class, but Dean has other plans.
warnings: none
Dean masterlist
the sound of my alarm made my heart skip a beat. I flung up quickly and turned it off before my boyfriend, Dean woke up. he stirred, but thankfully didn’t wake up. I sighed before laying back down for a second, not wanting to get up without touching him.
I wrapped my arm around his waist and pressed gentle kisses on his back. I ran my nails up and down his arm for a few minutes. I sat up and looked at the hunk of cuteness under my pink sheets. I smiled at the sight before popcorn kissing his cheeks. god was he adorable.
I finally got up and made my way to my bathroom. I looked it the mirror and I rarely didn’t look like a mess. usually, I’d have heatless curls and no mascara, but I was way to lazy to bother taking my mascara off and I straightened my hair not too long ago. I looked like a hot mess, actually.
I brushed my teeth and washed my face and made my way back to the room. Dean was still fast asleep like a little puppy. I sat at my desk and did my skincare and only mascara because I took a few extra minutes to cuddle Dean. I smiled as I watched him in the mirror.
he was waking up and without opening his eyes, he reached to my side, looking for me. he groaned and put his hand on his head. “morning, baby.” I said while wiping the excess mascara off my eyes.
“come back.”
“I have class,” I looked in the mirror once more, and walked to my closet.
“no.”
“you don’t get to cancel my classes, Dean.”
“but I’m your boyfriend.”
“I know that.”
“and class will be there tomorrow.”
“Dean.”
I threw a hot pink athletic skirt, a sports bra, and a grey cropped off the shoulder sweatshirt on the bed right next to him which was a big mistake considering he covered it with his body.
“looks like you can’t go if you don’t have an outfit.”
“babe get off, I have 20 minutes.”
“it’s a five minute walk.”
“I wanna be there early.”
“you can’t go naked.”
“Deannn!”
“please? 5 minutes?”
I groaned as he laid there, entirely too pleased with himself. “you’re lucky you’re cute.” I said while climbing back on the bed. he smiled as I held my arms open. he climbed into them and laid his head on my chest. he basically climbed on top of me so I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. but I didn’t want to.
he makes it so hard to leave in the mornings. 5 minutes pass and I start to squirm. “baby I have to go.” I whispered while kissing his head and forehead repeatedly. he whined but let me go. he was on the verge of falling asleep so he didn’t fight. I changed my clothes and grabbed my bag.
I leaned down to kiss Dean on his pink pillowy lips, and he gave back a weak lazy one. “I love you so much handsome. I’ll be back in 2 hours and you can have all the cuddles you want.” I kissed his whole face and he murmured back a little something I couldn’t understand.
“bye Deanie.” I said before closing the door and leaving. oh how much I wanted to run back in there and smother him in kisses until tomorrow.
Angst, avoidant reader, Logan is kind of evil (I love making him do dumb things)
You weren’t avoiding Logan…that’d be ridiculous. You were a busy girl! You had work, school, a job, and orgs you were apart of. Logan was supposed to be a fun time something you didn’t have to think about, you hadn’t accounted for actually liking him, you especially hadn’t accounted for him liking you first. So, you just needed a break. Time to collect yourself and think about your next move. This unfortunately also included not seeing Logan or texting Logan or calling Logan back for a couple of days…or weeks. You felt bad, honestly especially after he had taken you on such a great date but you just couldn’t think about that right now.
You knew Kyra.
Not really well, but enough.
She was a friend of a friend. You’d gone out with her a couple times, talked at parties, and you knew her well enough that she was someone you could gossip with about guys.
Or, more accurately, listen to her gossip about guys.
So when you heard her talking about some hockey player she was seeing, you didn’t really think anything of it.
A tall, brunette hockey player with a great smile.
That could be anyone, right?
There were a lot of hockey players. A lot of tall brunete guys with nice smiles.
You weren’t worried. You weren’t. You were just curious. That’s all. And maybe that’s why when you were scrolling through her close friends story later, you didn’t immediately click away. You were just bored. That was it. Until you saw it. Your entire body froze. For a second, your brain didn’t even process what you were looking at. A familiar head of hair, in a familiar room, in a very familiar bed. A bed you knew very well.
Logan.
Asleep.
His arm covering his face, completely unaware that your entire world had just shifted.
The caption read:
“This is the hockey player y’all are scared of??”
What the fuck. You stared at the picture. Because technically… Technically, you had no right to be upset. You weren’t dating. You weren’t his girlfriend and he definitely wasn’t your boyfriend. There were no established rules.
But that didn’t stop the way your chest tightened. Because you knew. And Logan knew. And after the date…After him telling you he liked you… He just what? Moved onto someone else!
Your stomach twisted.
How could you be mad? You weren’t anything official you hadn’t even seen him in weeks, he was a guy, a good looking guys at that, you should’ve expected this honestly. But didn’t he like you? He said he liked you. You opened your messages immediately clicking on his contacts. The last few messages were bleak
Logan: "Hey, you okay?"
Logan: "Haven't heard from you."
Logan: "Did I do something?"
Were you an awful person? You typed up a message fingers pausing before you opted to call him. He answered on the second ring
“Hi” you answered
“Hey—“ he sounded almost surprised
“Are you busy right now?”
“No” he said quickly
“Can we talk?”
He cleared us throat “yeah of course”
“Ok”
“ my place?” He ask hesitantly
“Yeah, I’ll see you in 10”
The drive to the Hawks House was quiet.
You spent the entire time trying to figure out what you were going to say.You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you pulled into the driveway. You walked up and knocked. Tucker answered. He smiled at first. Then he saw you.
"Oh."
"Hey. Is Logan here?"
A question you already knew the answer to.
"Um..." He looked behind him. "No?"
"Tucker."
"Yeah?"
"I know he's here."
He stared at you for a second before stepping aside.
"He's upstairs."
"Thanks."
You pushed past him.
When you reached Logan's door, you hesitated. You weren't even sure if you should knock. You did once.
"Logan?"
The door opened almost immediately.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He stepped aside to let you in. The room was the same as you had last seen it, the same as the picture in Kyra’s story. He was the same too, tall, handsome, and difficult to be upset with.You looked around for a bit before Logan spoke up.
“I didn’t know if I would hear from you again—“
“Are you fucking Kyra Williams?” You said too quickly.
“What?” His brows furrowed.
“Are you having sex with Kyra Williams?”
Logan let out a breath. “I-kind of?”
“You’re kind of fucking her or you are fucking her?”
Logan’s head tilted “How do you know Kyra?”
“I—she’s my friend. I saw her close friends”
“Her close friends?…”
“The picture.”
“What picture—“ He paused for a moment “Why do you even care?”
“What?”
“Why do you care you basically ghosted me after we went out”
“I didn’t—“
“You did.”
“I just needed time ok?”
“Time for what?”
“I don’t know to think, and I-that was 3 weeks ago you moved on in three weeks?”
“Moved on from what?” Logan asked.
You felt your eyes sting but ignored it “I thought you liked me. You said—“
“I thought you liked me too we went on a great date and then you ignored me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you”
“So what would you call not answering my text or calls for 3 weeks?”
“I—“ fuck. You were trapped
“So you came here to…” he searched your face “Yell at me?”
“I came here to—“ You sigh. What did you come here for? “I came here to..I don’t know! I just—you couldn’t keep it in your pants for ten seconds while i figured things out?”
“You didn’t tell me you were figuring anything out!” He took a deep breath “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So I’m supposed to feel good about you sleeping with other girls?”
“No I just—“
You scoffed. “I should’ve known. The date the whole thing…I thought you liked me more than this but you don’t do you?”
“Do you really think that?” Logan looked genuinely hurt he stepped closer, “God, I like you, I like you so much I feel stupid” there was a long pause “I mean fuck I can’t read your mind, I didn’t know…I’m sorry ok? I do like you”
You chewed your lip “I have to go” you headed towards the door.
“You never said it back” Logan called after you.
You turned around.
Logan was standing there, looking more hurt than angry.
"When I told you I liked you..." He swallowed. "You never said it back."
Your mouth opened but nothing came out. Because he was right.You smiled and kissed him and let him walk you home, but you never said the words.
"I—"
"I thought maybe you needed time," he continued. "I thought maybe you were scared. But after a while..." He shook his head. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."
"I wanted..."
You stopped. Because what did you want? You wanted him to like you. You wanted him to somehow know you were scared and wait anyway. But you never actually asked him to.
"I like you," you finally whispered.
Logan looked at you. And for a second, relief flashed across his face.Then it disappeared "I know."
The words took you by surprise. "What?"
"I know you like me."
Your eyebrows pulled together. "Then why are you acting like—"
"Because you never said it to me out loud."
You looked away.
"I didn't know how."
"I know." His voice softened, and somehow that made it worse. "I know you didn't."
Silence filled the room and hated that he wasn't yelling.You almost wished he was, it would be easier if he was angry.
"You should've told me," he said.
"I know."
"I would've understood."
"I know."
"But you didn't give me the chance."
You swallowed.
Because he was right.
Again.
You reached for the door. "Are you going to see her again?"
The question came out quieter than you meant it to.
Logan looked at you. "I don't know."
“Right” You nodded and all but ran out of the house into the safety of your car
This was why you weren’t a boyfriend girl, why you didn’t want to like Logan because now more so than ever all you did was think about him. Him at practice, him at games, him working on his truck, him lying down next you, him lying down next to Kyra. It felt like a disease, a dirty, gross, disease that infected your mind with thoughts of John Logan, but what else could you do? Your conversation felt like it was ending things, that you took too long and he moved on with someone else. Whatever you had, whatever you could have been, was over.
Angst, avoidant reader, Logan is kind of evil (I love making him do dumb things)
You weren’t avoiding Logan…that’d be ridiculous. You were a busy girl! You had work, school, a job, and orgs you were apart of. Logan was supposed to be a fun time something you didn’t have to think about, you hadn’t accounted for actually liking him, you especially hadn’t accounted for him liking you first. So, you just needed a break. Time to collect yourself and think about your next move. This unfortunately also included not seeing Logan or texting Logan or calling Logan back for a couple of days…or weeks. You felt bad, honestly especially after he had taken you on such a great date but you just couldn’t think about that right now.
You knew Kyra.
Not really well, but enough.
She was a friend of a friend. You’d gone out with her a couple times, talked at parties, and you knew her well enough that she was someone you could gossip with about guys.
Or, more accurately, listen to her gossip about guys.
So when you heard her talking about some hockey player she was seeing, you didn’t really think anything of it.
A tall, brunette hockey player with a great smile.
That could be anyone, right?
There were a lot of hockey players. A lot of tall brunete guys with nice smiles.
You weren’t worried. You weren’t. You were just curious. That’s all. And maybe that’s why when you were scrolling through her close friends story later, you didn’t immediately click away. You were just bored. That was it. Until you saw it. Your entire body froze. For a second, your brain didn’t even process what you were looking at. A familiar head of hair, in a familiar room, in a very familiar bed. A bed you knew very well.
Logan.
Asleep.
His arm covering his face, completely unaware that your entire world had just shifted.
The caption read:
“This is the hockey player y’all are scared of??”
What the fuck. You stared at the picture. Because technically… Technically, you had no right to be upset. You weren’t dating. You weren’t his girlfriend and he definitely wasn’t your boyfriend. There were no established rules.
But that didn’t stop the way your chest tightened. Because you knew. And Logan knew. And after the date…After him telling you he liked you… He just what? Moved onto someone else!
Your stomach twisted.
How could you be mad? You weren’t anything official you hadn’t even seen him in weeks, he was a guy, a good looking guys at that, you should’ve expected this honestly. But didn’t he like you? He said he liked you. You opened your messages immediately clicking on his contacts. The last few messages were bleak
Logan: "Hey, you okay?"
Logan: "Haven't heard from you."
Logan: "Did I do something?"
Were you an awful person? You typed up a message fingers pausing before you opted to call him. He answered on the second ring
“Hi” you answered
“Hey—“ he sounded almost surprised
“Are you busy right now?”
“No” he said quickly
“Can we talk?”
He cleared us throat “yeah of course”
“Ok”
“ my place?” He ask hesitantly
“Yeah, I’ll see you in 10”
The drive to the Hawks House was quiet.
You spent the entire time trying to figure out what you were going to say.You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you pulled into the driveway. You walked up and knocked. Tucker answered. He smiled at first. Then he saw you.
"Oh."
"Hey. Is Logan here?"
A question you already knew the answer to.
"Um..." He looked behind him. "No?"
"Tucker."
"Yeah?"
"I know he's here."
He stared at you for a second before stepping aside.
"He's upstairs."
"Thanks."
You pushed past him.
When you reached Logan's door, you hesitated. You weren't even sure if you should knock. You did once.
"Logan?"
The door opened almost immediately.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He stepped aside to let you in. The room was the same as you had last seen it, the same as the picture in Kyra’s story. He was the same too, tall, handsome, and difficult to be upset with.You looked around for a bit before Logan spoke up.
“I didn’t know if I would hear from you again—“
“Are you fucking Kyra Williams?” You said too quickly.
“What?” His brows furrowed.
“Are you having sex with Kyra Williams?”
Logan let out a breath. “I-kind of?”
“You’re kind of fucking her or you are fucking her?”
Logan’s head tilted “How do you know Kyra?”
“I—she’s my friend. I saw her close friends”
“Her close friends?…”
“The picture.”
“What picture—“ He paused for a moment “Why do you even care?”
“What?”
“Why do you care you basically ghosted me after we went out”
“I didn’t—“
“You did.”
“I just needed time ok?”
“Time for what?”
“I don’t know to think, and I-that was 3 weeks ago you moved on in three weeks?”
“Moved on from what?” Logan asked.
You felt your eyes sting but ignored it “I thought you liked me. You said—“
“I thought you liked me too we went on a great date and then you ignored me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you”
“So what would you call not answering my text or calls for 3 weeks?”
“I—“ fuck. You were trapped
“So you came here to…” he searched your face “Yell at me?”
“I came here to—“ You sigh. What did you come here for? “I came here to..I don’t know! I just—you couldn’t keep it in your pants for ten seconds while i figured things out?”
“You didn’t tell me you were figuring anything out!” He took a deep breath “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So I’m supposed to feel good about you sleeping with other girls?”
“No I just—“
You scoffed. “I should’ve known. The date the whole thing…I thought you liked me more than this but you don’t do you?”
“Do you really think that?” Logan looked genuinely hurt he stepped closer, “God, I like you, I like you so much I feel stupid” there was a long pause “I mean fuck I can’t read your mind, I didn’t know…I’m sorry ok? I do like you”
You chewed your lip “I have to go” you headed towards the door.
“You never said it back” Logan called after you.
You turned around.
Logan was standing there, looking more hurt than angry.
"When I told you I liked you..." He swallowed. "You never said it back."
Your mouth opened but nothing came out. Because he was right.You smiled and kissed him and let him walk you home, but you never said the words.
"I—"
"I thought maybe you needed time," he continued. "I thought maybe you were scared. But after a while..." He shook his head. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."
"I wanted..."
You stopped. Because what did you want? You wanted him to like you. You wanted him to somehow know you were scared and wait anyway. But you never actually asked him to.
"I like you," you finally whispered.
Logan looked at you. And for a second, relief flashed across his face.Then it disappeared "I know."
The words took you by surprise. "What?"
"I know you like me."
Your eyebrows pulled together. "Then why are you acting like—"
"Because you never said it to me out loud."
You looked away.
"I didn't know how."
"I know." His voice softened, and somehow that made it worse. "I know you didn't."
Silence filled the room and hated that he wasn't yelling.You almost wished he was, it would be easier if he was angry.
"You should've told me," he said.
"I know."
"I would've understood."
"I know."
"But you didn't give me the chance."
You swallowed.
Because he was right.
Again.
You reached for the door. "Are you going to see her again?"
The question came out quieter than you meant it to.
Logan looked at you. "I don't know."
“Right” You nodded and all but ran out of the house into the safety of your car
This was why you weren’t a boyfriend girl, why you didn’t want to like Logan because now more so than ever all you did was think about him. Him at practice, him at games, him working on his truck, him lying down next you, him lying down next to Kyra. It felt like a disease, a dirty, gross, disease that infected your mind with thoughts of John Logan, but what else could you do? Your conversation felt like it was ending things, that you took too long and he moved on with someone else. Whatever you had, whatever you could have been, was over.
summary: beau keeps shutting you out to the point you start doubting if he even trusted you in the first place
established relationship
warnings: hurt/comfort & angstyyyyy, beau says some hurtful things whoops!
word count: 5.3k
a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it<3 first off campus angst fic kinda nervous
beau maxwell masterlist off campus masterlist
── ᵎᵎ ✦
if someone had asked you six months ago what the strongest part of your relationship was, you would’ve answered without thinking: communication. it had always come so naturally between the two of you, because you and beau talked about everything.
the funny conversations happened just as often as the serious ones. one minute you’d be arguing over whether cereal counted as soup, the next he’d be quietly admitting that he still called his mom after every bad game because hearing her voice somehow made everything feel manageable again.
there had never been any pretending, no guessing games, no wondering whether the other person was upset. if something was wrong, one of you said so, and if something was exciting, the other person heard about it almost immediately.
somehow, somewhere between football games, late-night study sessions and too many evenings spent crammed into booths at malone’s with the rest of the group, talking had become the easiest thing in the world.
you’d started taking it for granted. which, in hindsight was probably why neither of you noticed when it slowly stopped happening.
it didn’t happen all at once. there wasn’t one conversation you could point to and say, “that’s when everything changed.”
instead, it happened quietly. so quietly that if someone had asked whether anything was wrong, you would’ve smiled without hesitation and told them no.
because, nothing was wrong. not really. life had simply become busy. football season always demanded more of beau than anything else, you’d known that long before you started dating him.
practice stretched later into the evenings, team meetings appeared out of nowhere, film sessions somehow lasted twice as long as anyone expected, there were interviews, captain meetings, and freshmen who seemed convinced beau possessed the answer to every problem they encountered.
he never complained about any of it. if anything, he seemed to carry it all with an almost frustrating amount of patience.
you’d watched him spend nearly an hour after practice helping one of the younger players work through something the coaches had already explained three separate times.
he never once looked annoyed.
another afternoon, you’d found him sitting outside the locker room with one of the freshmen who’d failed an exam, talking him through how to tell his parents before offering to help him find a tutor.
that was beau. he had an irritating habit of making room for everyone else’s problems, even when there wasn’t much room left for his own.
at first, nothing between the two of you changed. he still texted you good morning, still kissed your forehead whenever he saw you, still reached for your hand whenever you walked across campus together, your fingers finding his almost instinctively before either of you seemed to notice.
the affection stayed exactly the same, but it was everything around it that shifted.
the conversations grew shorter. instead of sitting together for hours after class, you caught each other between lectures, and instead of spending entire evenings together, you’d steal half an hour before one of you inevitably had somewhere else to be.
you adjusted; that was what couples did. life got busy, and people adapted. there was nothing unusual about that.
one evening, nearly three weeks into the semester, you waited outside the football building after one of beau’s practices.
the sun had already begun disappearing behind the campus buildings, painting long shadows across the pavement while groups of players drifted out through the doors in twos and threes.
eventually, beau appeared and the moment he saw you, his face softened. it happened every single time. you’d never told him you’d noticed. his smile was lighter, as though seeing you allowed something inside him to loosen.
“hey,” he stepped close enough to kiss your forehead before slipping one hand naturally around your waist, “how long have you been waiting?”
“five minutes.”
“why didn’t your text?”
“i wanted to surprise you.”
he smiled, “mission accomplished.”
you looked up at him properly then. there were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and his hair was still damp from showering after practice. he looked tired. you brushed your thumb lightly against the back of his hand, “everything okay?”
“yeah,” his answer came immediately. too immediately. you tilted your head slightly, “you sure?”
he nodded once, “just a long practice.”
you studied him for another second, but he smiled again, even though it smaller this time, “i promise.”
and because it was beau, because he’d never given you much reason to doubt him before, you believed him.
except, the same conversation happened again two days later, and then again the following week. the words “i’m fine” had began to lose their meaning.
you knew him; beau wasn’t the type to invent problems that didn’t exist, but he also wasn’t particularly good at admitting when something did.
he’d always been the person everyone leaned on. so, you started wondering whether he’d forgotten he didn’t have to be that person with you.
the first time you asked again after he’d already said he was fine he laughed. you’d been sitting together in his apartment, textbooks scattered across the coffee table while a football game played quietly in the background.
he’d read the same page of film notes three times without turning it. you’d noticed, while he hadn’t.
“babe?” he looked up and you smiled gently, “your mind’s somewhere else.”
he rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck, “just thinking.”
“about?”
“football.”
you waited, but he didn’t continue. after another moment, you reached across the couch, threading your fingers through his, “want to talk about it?”
his thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles, “i’m okay.”
“beau,” you held his gaze.
“i’m okay.”
same words, same gentle smile, and the same reassuring tone. it should’ve comforted you. instead, something inside your chest tightened.
it wasn’t enough to make you angry, but it did make you worry, because every instinct you had told you something wasn’t right. and every time you reached for him he smiled, kissed your forehead, told you he loved you, and then quietly closed the door again before you could step through it.
one friday evening, you found him outside the athletic centre after another late practice. he looked exhausted; more exhausted than you’d ever seen him.
you didn’t say anything at first. you simply walked over, slipped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek against his chest.
his embrace came immediately, almost automatic. his chin rested lightly against the top of your head as he let out a slow breath you weren’t entirely sure he’d realised he was holding.
for a moment neither of you spoke as cars rolled quietly past the end of the street and students crossed campus carrying backpacks and takeaway coffees. the autumn air had started turning colder, carrying the faint scent of rain.
you listened to his heartbeat beneath your ear. “rough day?” you asked eventually.
his arms tightened just a fraction, “little bit.”
“want to tell me about it?” you smiled sadly even though he couldn’t see.
the silence that followed was long enough that you already knew the answer before he spoke, “i’m alright.”
your eyes closed. he wasn’t, you knew he wasn’t, and he knew you knew. still neither of you said anything else. after another moment, you simply nodded against his chest, “okay.”
“thank you,” he kissed the top of your head.
you frowned slightly, “for what?”
“not worrying.”
the words caught you off guard. you pulled back just enough to look at him; his smile was tired, but completely sincere. he genuinely believed he’d done something kind.
your own smile came a second later, though it was smaller than usual, “always.”
you reached for his hand as the two of you started walking toward your apartment. he intertwined your fingers with yours immediately. the gesture felt exactly the same as it always had. and yet, for the first time since you’d started dating him, you couldn’t shake the quiet feeling that you were walking beside the person you loved while drifting a little farther away with every step.
eventually you stopped asking. it wasn’t as though you woke up one morning and decided that if beau wanted to keep everything to himself, then you’d stop trying. it happened much more quietly than that; the questions simply faded.
instead of asking how practice had gone, you’d ask whether he wanted to grab dinner after class. instead of wondering whether something was bothering him, you’d ask if he’d remembered to eat lunch.
they felt like safer questions. questions that didn’t end with the same two words every single time.
“i’m fine.”
because somewhere along the way, you’d started realizing those words didn’t make you feel any better anymore.
it took him longer than it probably should have, but beau noticed eventually. he noticed because one afternoon, after practice had run nearly an hour late, he climbed into his truck expecting to see the message that had become almost routine; “how’d it go?”
but it wasn’t there. instead, your last text sat near the top of the conversation from earlier that morning.
y/n❤️: good luck today<3
he smiled despite himself, and typed a quick text.
beau: practice finally finished.
you answered almost immediately.
y/n❤️: glad you’re done
that was it, no follow-up, no “how are you?” no “everything okay?” he stared at the screen for another second before starting the engine. maybe, you were just busy.
you were busy .. mostly. midterms had arrived all at once, somehow convincing every professor on campus that the same week was the perfect time to assign presentations, essays and group projects. your planner had become little more than a collection of crossed-out deadlines and scribbled reminders.
it was exhausting, but if you were being honest, you’d been busy before. the difference now was that, somewhere between classes and assignments, you’d stopped spending so much energy trying to figure out how to reach someone who clearly didn’t want to be reached.
“you’ve been quiet.”
you looked up from your notebook. hannah was watching you from across the library table, her highlighter resting forgotten between her fingers.
“have i?”
“a little.”
you smiled, “just tired.”
she didn’t look convinced, “everything okay with beau?”
the question caught you off guard, you hadn’t realized anyone else had noticed. you hesitated for barely a second, then smiled again, “yeah.”
hannah continued watching you, “just busy?”
“football,” you shrugged lightly, “school, and life.”
“that time of year,” she nodded slowly.
“exactly,” it wasn’t entirely a lie, and that was probably the worst part.
the following friday, the whole group ended up at malone’s. beau arrived nearly twenty minutes late, and he apologized before he’d even sat down. he dropped into the seat beside you, immediately reaching beneath the table for your hand, “coach kept us.”
you smiled, “figured.”
his fingers intertwined with yours automatically, and you squeezed them once before returning your attention to whatever ridiculous story dean had somehow turned into a dramatic reenactment.
across the table, logan watched the two of you quietly. he’d always been observant, not in an intrusive way; he simply noticed things.
halfway through dinner, beau’s phone buzzed. he glanced down and frowned slightly, “i’ve gotta take this.”
“coach?” dean asked.
beau nodded once, “be right back.”he stood, leaning down almost absentmindedly to kiss the side of your head before disappearing toward the front entrance.
you watched him leave for barely a second before turning back to the conversation. nobody else seemed to think anything of it, except logan. he looked between you and the empty chair beside you. then quietly asked, “everything alright?”
“yeah,” your smile came automatically.
he studied you for another moment before he nodded. he didn’t ask again.
beau returned nearly fifteen minutes later. his food had gone cold and he apologized again. you told him it didn’t matter.
he couldn’t control when his coach called, he couldn’t control practice running late, he couldn’t control half the things currently demanding his attention, and you knew that. so, you smiled and asked him whether he wanted your fries. he laughed when dean accused him of getting preferential treatment.
the first time you almost told him how you were feeling happened completely by accident.
you’d been lying together on his bed. his arm rested around your shoulders while some movie neither of you were actually paying attention to played quietly in the background.
he looked exhausted and his eyes kept drifting shut every few minutes before opening again almost immediately.
without thinking, you reached up and brushed your fingers lightly through his hair and he hummed softly at your touch. the sound made something inside your chest ache, “beau?”
“mm?”
“can i ask you something?”
he opened his eyes, “always.”
you looked at him, really looked at him. the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tension that never quite left his shoulders anymore, the way he smiled at you even when he looked completely drained.
the words sat right there. “i miss you.”“why won’t you let me in?”“please stop pretending”
instead, you smiled, “never mind.”
his eyebrows pulled together slightly, “you sure?”
“yeah.”
“okay,” he kissed your forehead.
that night, after you’d gone home, beau lay awake for almost an hour. he couldn’t explain why. something about the way you’d looked at him before saying “never mind” stayed with him. it reminded him of himself; like there had been words behind your eyes that you’d quietly decided to keep instead.
he frowned into the darkness and for a brief moment he considered calling you. then he looked at the clock; it was past midnight and you had an early class the next morning.
he smiled to himself, and rolled over as he closed his eyes, convincing himself that letting you sleep was the kinder thing to do.
sometime later that week the two of you had planned to have dinner together that evening. you’d spent most of the day in the library, and beau had spent his at practice, so you decided on nothing fancy. just takeout at his place before you both returned to whatever work still waited for you afterwards.
you’d been looking forward to it more than you cared to admit, because uninterrupted time with beau had quietly become something you found yourself counting down towards.
the past few weeks had left the two of you passing each other more than actually being together.
you arrived at beau’s just before seven. he’d given you a spare key months ago. the first time you’d used it, you’d stood outside the door for nearly five minutes convincing yourself he actually meant it when he’d said to let yourself in whenever you wanted.
now, it felt as natural as knocking once before stepping inside, “beau?”
your voice carried easily through the empty frat house. you frowned when no one answered. his football bag sat beside the front door exactly where he’d dropped it after practice, with his shoes lay haphazardly beside it.
you wandered farther inside. the television glowed quietly in the living room, football film paused halfway through a play you’d seen him watch at least twice already.
the kitchen lights were on, but still no beau.
“in here!” his voice finally came from his bedroom.
you followed it, and once you opened the door you found him on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees while one hand rubbed slowly across the back of his neck.
his duffel bag lay open beside him, clothes still half unpacked from practice. he looked up when you appeared in the doorway and the second he saw you he smiled, the tiredness around his eyes softening immediately, “hey.”
you smiled back just as easily, “hey.”
he stood, closing the distance between you before wrapping both arms around your waist. the hug came automatically, the way it always did, and you melted into it without thinking.
he pressed a kiss against your temple, and another against your hair, “missed you.”
the words settled warmly somewhere beneath your ribs, “missed you too.”
you ordered food and laughed over something one of his teammates had done during practice that afternoon while you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, eating directly from the containers because neither of you could be bothered finding plates.
beau rested one arm along the back of the couch behind you. every now and then you could feel his fingers absentmindedly brushing your shoulder.
the conversation wandered comfortably between classes, football and whatever outrageous thing dean had told him that morning.
you found yourself relaxing, because maybe you’d been wrong, maybe things really had just been busy, maybe—
beau’s phone rang and he sighed quietly before even looking at the screen. your eyes followed the movement automatically. coach.
“i’m sorry,” he was already standing, “i’ve just gotta—”
“it’s okay,” the words left your mouth before he’d even finished speaking as you gave him a reassuring smile, “take it.”
he hesitated for a second before answering, “hey, coach.” he disappeared toward his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.
you looked back down at your dinner which had suddenly become significantly less interesting. through the wall you could hear beau’s voice. it too muffled to make out words, but just enough to know the conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon.
after ten minutes you put the container down.
fifteen.
twenty.
the apartment remained quiet except for the occasional murmur from the bedroom.
you looked toward the closed door, then at the television, then back again and a familiar thought drifted quietly through your mind. “it’s okay.” you’d said those words a lot lately.
almost half an hour later, the bedroom door finally opened and beau stepped back into the living room, “sorry.”he looked genuinely apologetic while his phone still rested loosely in one hand, “coach needed to go over something.”
you nodded without saying anything, causing him to frown slightly, “you alright?”
you looked up, “yeah.”
he continued watching you. normally, you would’ve teased him by now. complained dramatically about being abandoned with cold takeout, or made him promise to buy dessert as compensation. instead, you simply smiled, “it’s fine.”
beau’s stomach tightened. because, he wasn’t entirely sure you meant it.
he sat back down beside you, closer this time; close enough that your knees brushed, “you sure?”
you looked at him for a long moment before nodding, “mhm.”
another silence followed as he rubbed a hand slowly across the back of his neck, “you don’t seem fine.”
a laugh almost escaped your lips. not because anything was funny, but because of course he’d noticed now, after you’d finally stopped asking him the same question. “i’m okay,” the words sounded strangely familiar.
beau blinked, “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“tell me you’re okay when you’re not.”
“wow,” something inside you shifted and you looked at him for another second before speaking, “that’s interesting.”
“what is?” confusion flickered across his face.
you lowered your gaze to your hands. your voice remained soft as you spoke, “because i’ve been asking you that question for weeks.”
beau stared at you, “what?”
you looked back up, there wasn’t any anger in your expression, but you looked tired, “i’ve asked if you’re okay, if you’re sleeping, if something’s wrong.” every sentence came quietly, “you always tell me you’re fine.”
“i am—”
you smiled sadly, “see?”
the single word stopped him as he looked at you. the smile you’d been wearing all evening hadn’t disappeared. but, he suddenly realised it hadn’t reached your eyes once.
“i’ve spent weeks trying to help you,” your fingers twisted lightly together in your lap, “i kept thinking maybe if i asked differently…”you laughed once, “maybe you’d finally let me in.”
beau felt something sink heavily in his chest, “baby.”
“i stopped asking,” your voice cracked for the first time, just slightly, “because it started feeling like i was bothering you.”
“no,” the answer came immediately and he reached for your hand. you let him take it, but you didn’t squeeze back, “i never thought that.”
“i know.”
“you do?”
“i know you didn’t mean to,” you paused, “i just don’t understand why everyone else gets to help you except me.”
beau frowned, “what do you mean?”
“i’ve seen teammates stay behind after practice, you talk football with dean for hours, and even logan knows when something’s bothering you.” you looked at him, “so why won’t you talk to me?”
he froze. he’d never thought about it like that. he hadn’t been shutting you out, had he? he’d been protecting you, “i didn’t want you worrying.”
you closed your eyes briefly and when you opened them again, they looked impossibly sad, “i never asked you to protect me from loving you.”
the words hung between you as neither of you moved. outside, rain tapped softly against the windows, but inside everything felt frighteningly still.
beau ran both hands through his hair, his thoughts refused to settle, “i’ve just…”he stood suddenly and started pacing, “i’ve got so much going on right now that i didn’t want to dump on you, and i thought i was helping.”
“i know”
he stopped walking and looked at you, “then why are we fighting?”
you looked down at your hands, “i don’t know how to keep loving someone who won’t let me stand beside them.”
silence.
beau’s chest tightened. he opened his mouth — and, exhausted, overwhelmed, terrified, the wrong words came out, “can i just have one thing that isn’t difficult right now?”
the room went completely still and the second he heard himself say it, he wished he could take it back. his stomach turned as he watched your face carefully, hoping you’d immediately tell him you knew he hadn’t meant it.
instead, you just looked at him and when you finally spoke, your voice was frighteningly calm as you stood up in front of him, “that’s what i am?”
he frowned immediately, and his answer came so quickly he almost stumbled over itself, “no, baby, that’s not—”
“don’t,” you simply lifted one hand between the two of you to stop him.
“i didn’t mean you.”
a humorless chuckle escaped before you could stop it. you stared at each other for a moment, and eventually you looked away first. toward the cold takeout still sitting untouched on the coffee table, the television neither of you had switched off, and toward absolutely anything except him, “do you know how many times i’ve told you ‘it’s okay’ this month?”
beau blinked, “what?”
“practice runs late,” you counted quietly on your fingers, “‘it’s okay,’ coach calls during dinner, ‘it’s okay,’ you cancel because you’ve got film, ‘it’s okay.’” your voice cracked, “you stop talking to me, ‘it’s okay.’”
beau’s heart sank at the sound of your voice.
“i kept saying it,” you looked back at him, because i thought eventually you’d trust me enough to stop making me say it.”
he couldn’t think of anything to say, because every single example was true, “i wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“i know.”
“i thought—”
“k know what you thought, beau,” for the first time your voice rose, “i know.”tears filled your eyes so quickly you almost looked surprised by them, “that’s why i’ve been trying so hard not to be angry.”
you laughed again; another broken sound, “i kept telling myself ‘he means well,’ ‘he’s stressed,’ ‘he loves me.’”every sentence became harder to finish, “i kept making excuses for you because i knew you weren’t doing it on purpose.”
another tear escaped, and you wiped it away impatiently, “do you know what that feels like?”
beau couldn’t answer.
“it feels like standing outside someone’s front door every single day,” your hand pressed flat against your own chest. “knowing they’re inside, knowing they can hear you knocking, and still never being invited in.”
the words hit him so hard he physically flinched. you saw it, but you didn’t stop, “i’m your girlfriend.”your voice finally cracked completely, “i shouldn’t have to beg you to let me be there.”
“i’m sorry.”
“i don’t want you to be sorry,” the answer came immediately, “i wanted you to trust me.”
he swallowed hard, “i do trust you.”
“no,” you shook your head. “no, you trust me with the easy parts.”your breathing became uneven, “you trust me when you’re happy, when football goes well, when life feels manageable, but the second things get hard…”you looked directly at him, “you decide for me.”
“i wasn’t deciding—”
“you were,” the words came louder, “you decided i couldn’t handle it, you decided i’d worry too much, you decided i was better off not knowing.” your shoulders lifted with a shaky breath, “you made every single one of those decisions without asking me what i wanted.”
beau felt tears gathering before he’d even realised he’d started crying, “i just…” his voice failed, “i didn’t know how.” he ran both hands through his hair, pacing again because standing still suddenly felt impossible.
he laughed shakily, “i don’t know how to let people see me like that, and i thought if i kept it together…” his voice cracked, “then at least one part of my life wouldn’t fall apart.”
you stared at him, but something inside you finally broke, “don’t you get it?” the tears were falling freely now, “i want to be the place where you fell apart.”
beau froze at your words.
“i never wanted the polished version of you,” your hands shook as you wiped angrily at your face, “i want all of you. the scared parts, the angry parts, the exhausted parts. you don’t have to earn my love by pretending you’re okay.”
your breathing hitched, “but every time you looked me in the eye and said ‘i’m fine.’”another tear slipped down your cheek, “you were telling me i wasn’t the person you wanted beside you.”
“no,” the word left him almost violently. he crossed the room before he even realised he’d moved.
you instinctively stepped backwards, and that — more than anything — broke him. he stopped immediately, like he’d hit a wall and his entire face crumpled, “i did that.” he whispered it more to himself than to you, “i made you step away from me.”
tears spilled from his eyes, “i’ve never…”his voice disappeared, but he tried again, “i’ve never wanted that.”
you’d never seen him cry before, at least not properly. you’d seen watery eyes after difficult losses, seen him blink hard after emotional phone calls with his parents. but this was different.
his shoulders shook; he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore, and watching the strongest person you knew completely come apart only made your own tears fall harder.
“i hate fighting with you,” your voice barely rose above a whisper.
the words sounded almost fragile by the time they reached him, carried unevenly between shaky breaths and tears you’d long since stopped trying to hide.
beau stood opposite you, his own eyes red, “so do i.” he laughed once under his breath, the sound cracked almost as soon as it left him, “i hate that i hurt you.”
you shook your head before he’d even finished speaking, “no.” your voice trembled and you wiped impatiently beneath one eye, frustrated when another tear immediately replaced the one you’d brushed away, “that’s not—“
beau looked at you.
“i know you love me,” your voice wavered, the sentence caught beau off guard, “i’ve never doubted that, and i don’t think you stopped loving me.”
he frowned, confused, “then—”
“i think…”your voice cracked again, “you forgot what loving me actually meant.”
you wrapped your arms around yourself without really thinking, suddenly aware of how cold the room felt, or maybe it was just you, “i wanted a partner.”
beau felt his throat tighten painfully, “i thought…”he stopped, because he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. he’d spent weeks convincing himself he was doing the right thing; that if he could just carry everything himself, then at least you wouldn’t have to. “i thought if i could deal with it myself,” his voice barely held together, “then you wouldn’t have to hurt too.”
for a long moment, you simply stared, “i would’ve chosen that.” your answer came quietly, and without hesitation, “i would’ve chosen hurting with you.”
his eyes closed, “baby…”
“no, i need you to hear me.”
he nodded immediately.
“i don’t care if football gets hard, if the draft scares you, and i don’t care if you come home exhausted or frustrated or angry.”your breathing became uneven again, “i don’t need you to be okay all the time.”
you looked at him through tears, “i need you to stop deciding that i’m better off without the truth.”
beau felt something inside him give way completely. his knees suddenly felt weak, so he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows resting against his thighs while both hands covered his face.
for several seconds he couldn’t speak, and couldn’t think. all he could hear were your words echoing relentlessly through his head. “i would’ve chosen hurting with you.”
he’d spent weeks trying to spare you from exactly that. and all he’d really done, was make you hurt alone.
his shoulders shook, he couldn’t stop them anymore, “i don’t know how.”the confession came muffled beneath his hands, “i don’t know how to need people.”
your anger faltered, because suddenly, sitting in front of you wasn’t beau the quarterback. wasn’t captain. wasn’t the guy everyone depended on. he just looked young, terrified, and completely overwhelmed.
“i’ve always…”he rubbed roughly at his eyes before looking up again, “i’ve always been the one who’s supposed to hold it together.”another shaky laugh escaped him, “my dad, my coaches, the team.”
“they all,” he struggled for the words as he looked at you helplessly, “they need me to be steady.”
you felt fresh tears burn behind your eyes. because that was beau, that had always been beau; the one everyone leaned on.
slowly, you crossed the space between you. beau looked up immediately, uncertainty flickering across his face; like he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was allowed to reach for you anymore. the thought alone made your chest ache.
you sat down next to him, close enough that your knees brushed his, before lifting your hands gently and cupping his face the same way you had countless times before.
his eyes closed instinctively beneath your touch and a broken breath escaped him.
“i’m still angry,” you admitted it honestly, “and i’m probably going to be angry tomorrow, too.”
he nodded
“this doesn’t just…” you searched for the words, “go away because we cried.”
he looked at you again, “i don’t expect it to.”
“I need you to promise me something.”
“anything.”
“no, don’t say anything,” you smiled sadly, “i don’t want promises because we’re both emotional.” your thumb brushed lightly across his cheek, wiping away another tear, “i want you to actually mean it.”
he held your gaze as you spoke, “if you’re scared,” your voice cracked once more. “if practice is awful, if football feels too heavy, tell me” you leaned your forehead gently against his, “and if you think i’m going to leave because life gets difficult…” your own tears slipped free again, “please let me decide that for myself.”
beau’s breath caught painfully as he wrapped trembling hands around your wrists, “i was never scared you’d leave,” he whispered. “i was scared you’d see me differently.”
you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, “beau.”your voice was impossibly gentle, “i don’t love you because you had everything together.” you noticed another tear rolling down his face, “i love you because you’re you.”
he broke completely then; his forehead dropped against yours as quiet sobs shook through him, months of pressure finally spilling out all at once.
however, this time he didn’t try to hide it. you weren’t standing outside the door; he’d finally opened it.
summary — allie’s gift for challenging your stubbornness and a mere right swipe leads to the ultimate campus match, worthy of the heisman trophy
fem!reader x beau maxwell, dating app trope — classmates to lovers, no warnings ! three acts
act i.
„i bet you won’t.“
allie‘s white wine sloshes around her wineglass at her rapid rise from my sofa but she remains holding it skillfully in her manicured hand.
as the evening progressed into night and the windows turned into a dark mirror reflecting the room, allie and i had made a comfortable wine and pizza night in my living room, where suddenly the certain topic of dating had come up.
ever since her breakup with sean, she’d become so free, allie had a new cheeky manner about her and i loved it for her. she was in that awkward in between of freshly being freed from commitment and stepping into fortuitous possibilities. however, that also meant her interest in grumbling about romance, and protesting it generally and her micro-analyzing habit of my lack of interest in dating-slash-hookups increased.
i groan in agitation, knowing she got me. the conversation had turned about every which way until we landed on dating apps. now allie was adamant i had to try one out and see where it would lead, saying it would be 'fun' and an 'exciting new experience'. i didn’t feel that way at all, but my best friend had a way of challenging my stubbornness like no one else.
that’s how we got to setting up a perfectly whimsy profile, according to allie, and swiping endlessly.
„oh he’s kinda cute!“
CHARLES VAN PELT, 22
lifeguard
„so not, al.“
allie whines, „babe, this is the hundredth guy you’ve swiped left. it’s becoming brutal, give one of them a chance, would you?“
my hibiscus scented candle fills the space with a gentle glow, offering some warmth into our night. i glance at her sideways, „well, i don’t like them. isn’t that the point?“
i set my wineglass down on my coffee table as she scooted closer to me, taking my manicured hand in both of hers, „the point is that you should take some risks and put yourself out there, have some fun.“ then she let go and took another slice of pepperoni pizza, „how about this, next person that pops up, you have to swipe right. who knows, you could match, you could not? but at least try.“
if you ever wondered why you should never try to reason with allison hayes is because she’ll get her way either way, so it’s easier to just give in.
„fine.“ i mumble as i reject charles. we wait a few seconds for the feed to refresh, then another account pops up suddenly.
BEAU MAXWELL, 22
college quarterback, history major
i stare at the strikingly handsome picture before me, a definite improvement from all others previously. recognition clings in my memory for a short second before i am interrupted by allie excitedly hopping on my sofa with a shriek.
„no way. dude, no way!“ she yells, grabbing my phone, „beau maxwell?“ she muses.
i frown, „you know him?“
her head snaps towards me so fast i worried she might’ve pulled something, „you have literally been in the same room as him like a million times, y/n.“ allie laughs disbelieving, glancing between my phone and i every few seconds, „that’s dean‘s best friend. i’m pretty sure you guys have the same history courses?“
my eyes squint in thoughtfulness, then i remember, yeah, he sat three rows below me. i’m pretty sure i saw him around campus and parties a few times, though seeing him around and on pictures where he is striking some funny poses, flashing his charming smile and showing off his to-drool-for physique doing what he loves, clearly differs.
while i thought, allie was scrolling through his pictures and prompts, giggling giddily, „that’s awesome, prompts says, 'the dorkiest thing about me is‘ and beau answers, 'that i love historical theater and can tell you all the drama about it‘, oh my, i love this!“
i chuckle and lean into her, taking my phone back into my hands and reading through his profile myself. i wouldn’t have expected that from a football quarterback but he is in my historical class after all, so it shouldn’t be as surprising. perhaps because he was best friends with dean di laurentis.
a picture of shirtless on top of a mountain on a sunny day, looking off into the scenery. another of him with a backwards cap smiling brightly into the camera while holding a beer like a trophy. him in his football gear. him posing at a party, shimmering of sweat though the smile on his face was so adorably bright. and if you squinted hard enough, you could see dean was cropped out of it.
allie startled me suddenly by clapping her hands once, „alright, swipe him. swipe right!“ she edged excitedly.
hesitantly, though with no complaint, i did.
then nothing. purely awaitance in deafening silence of anticipation as my heart beat rapidly inside my chest. after a few seconds, i almost shut off and threw my phone away from me, then suddenly:
you matched with beau maxwell ! say hi ;)
my heart almost leaped out of my chest as allie and i both jumped up from the couch with loud screams of both horror and laughter. she took my hands in hers, then rapidly let them go in fear of disrupting anything inside the app, lastly we covered our mouths with wide eyes and heavy breathing. my brain had to catch up with the rest of my body, and when it did, i glanced back at my phone and took a few steps backwards until the back of my thighs touched the sofa.
„what do i do?“
„text him!“
„allie, i can’t!“
our argument was disrupted by another vibration of my phone. when we chaotically leaned closer and fumbled to hold the phone still, we saw a red dotted one by the message inbox.
beau maxwell: this feels like winning the heisman trophy
allie and i scream once more, not being able to contain our thrill. she almost tips over our almost empty wine glasses by jumping up from the couch and hopping around the dorm. surely, some neighbors might complain later, but as of now, it’s totally worth it and understandable.
i drop my phone on the sofa and hide my flushing face behind my palm, disbelieving of what’s happening.
"hurry, answer!" allie hissed, her hands flapping wildly in the air as if the phone on the cushion might spontaneously combust.
i carefully pinched the edge of the screen, lifting it like a live grenade, my face burning hot. "al, what do i even answer to that?" i mumble as my slightly palm my face in nervosity.
"good question," allie shrugged, practically vibrating with excitement. "he’s paying you a huge compliment, babe. look, he surely remembers you from history class, or he knows you through dean. play it cool.“
my thumbs hover over the keyboard, suddenly feeling heavy and useless as my brain thought of what to say. if beau maxwell has this affect on me each time we talk, i’ll have a whole other issue.
allie paces the small space between the coffee table and the dark window, then took a quick sip of her remaining beverage to calm down. the keyboard glowed beneath my thumbs, each letter suddenly feeling impossibly significant. it was ridiculous, i’d written essays longer than this without a second thought, yet simple words had my mind drawing a complete blank.
you: i guess i should feel honored then
i had never been against dating, i just never cared enough to chase it. most people around campus seemed determined to make romance and or hookups the center of their college experience. sports games turned into frat parties, frat parties turned into situationships, messy breakups and rumors reaching every corner of campus.
the football and hockey crowd had always existed somewhere adjacent to my life rather than inside it and i’d definitely seen beau plenty of times, he was hard to miss. but i’d never been interested in whatever came to paying attention to these men surrounding campus. one of my best friends dating a hockey team captain definitely didn’t ease being surrounded by them.
my phone vibrated against the couch cushion, causing both allie and i to snap our heads toward it so quickly our foreheads nearly collided. then the phone buzzed again.
beau maxwell: i was hoping you would
beau maxwell: makes me feel slightly less embarrassing for sending that first message.
i found myself wondering if the version of beau everyone seemed to know, myself included, the loud, charismatic quarterback always surrounded by people, was the same guy who had admitted, without hesitation, that he’d felt awkward sending a cheesy opening line. with that thought, my thumb hovered over the keyboard again.
you: i don’t think it was embarrassing
beau maxwell: no?
you: no. definitely cheesy though
beau maxwell: i’ll gladly accept cheesy over embarrassing
allie’s eyes widened before she clapped her hands together with a delighted squeal, bouncing excitedly on the sofa cushions.
you: good
beau maxwell: i was hoping matching with me wouldn’t scare you off
my eyebrows scrunched in confusion, though eagerness still ran through my body. allie was leaning so close to me, we were practically merging together. her hand reached up, holding out a pizza slice in front of my mouth to feed me.
you: why would it?
allie hums as she chewed her own slice, “this is the best thing ever.”
beau maxwell: you don’t seem to like frat guys
you: what makes you say that?
beau maxwell: i’ve seen you around, you don’t really fraternize with anyone but your close group
beau maxwell: and yet you’re very social and appreciated by everyone
you: you noticed all of that?
beau maxwell: it’s hard not to pay attention to you
you: that’s… incredibly adorable
you: for the record
you: i’m glad we matched, beau
beau maxwell: for the record
beau maxwell: me too ;)
i let out a quiet sigh, switching my phone off before setting it beside me on the couch. leaning back into the soft cushions, i allowed the excitement to melt from my shoulders. beside me, allie curled closer without a word, her cascade of chocolate brown waves spilling over my shoulder and brushing gently against my neck. the silky strands tickled my skin, drawing a faint smile from me as she let out a soft, breathy giggle, settling comfortably into my side.
“wow.” i sighed, shaking my head.
our gazes met, and she gave a small nod, her smile never faltering.
act ii.
i’m sat by the counter in malone’s with allie, both of us sipping colorful, though non-alcoholic, drinks as we wait for hannah’s last few minutes of waitressing until shift end so we could have a girls’ night. then my phone buzzed in that particular manner that got my heart excited, knowing it was a certain quarterback i had been consistently texting with for a month now.
beau: i‘m back friday
my lips curved into the faintest smile, as effortless as the warmth slowly settling beneath my ribs. beside me, allie caught it instantly and nudged my shoulder with her own, eyebrows lifting knowingly as she stole a quick glance at my phone, a smug smile already spreading across her face.
„friday, huh?” she hummed, nudging me again, “someone couldn’t wait to let you know.”
i shrug, „or,“ i muttered, fighting the smile tugging at my lips, “he’s just letting me know because we’ve been talking.”
allie gave me a look that practically screamed you cannot be serious. “babe,” she scoffed, „he probably texted you before he texted his own mother.“ she took another sip of her drink, still grinning.
the warm buzz of conversation drifted through the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint hum of an old song playing overhead. at times, we could spot hannah hurriedly transporting filled trays between the lively tables.
you: exciting, i thought it’d be longer
beau: disappointed?
you: not at all
you: the opposite, actually
beau: i’m glad
beau: we should probably talk in person eventually
my heart gave one quiet, unexpected stutter, the feeling so fleeting i almost convinced myself i’d imagined it.
you: probably
beau: unless you plan on dating me exclusively through text messages
you: that’s a bold assumption
beau: which part?
i could almost imagine him smirking at his phone, and the thought of him being so brazen kind of excited me.
you: us dating
beau: fair
beau: would you like me to rephrase, angel?
you: not necessary
beau: good, great even
the warmth of the inside disappeared the moment we stepped outside the bar, replaced by the quiet hum of the campus at night. allie and hannah continued their conversation ahead of me, their voices blending into the background while i checked my phone one last time.
a new message waited.
beau: cause i have every intention of properly courting you once i‘m back ;)
a soft laugh escaped beneath my breath as i placed my phone back into my handbag, carefully hiding the smile it had left behind.
act iii.
the afternoon had settled into that rare kind of summer warmth that felt almost weightless as sunlight spilled lazily through the tree leaves of the boys‘ backyard, painting golden patches across the lawn and warming everything it touched.
the old picnic bench creaked softly with every shift of our bodies, though inaudible as the house behind me drowned it out with the shouting voices, and the occasional burst of carefree laughter of both hockey and some football players.
friday arrived with a softness i hadn’t realized i‘d been anticipating.
the thought of finally orbiting the same space as beau after a couple of weeks apart settled somewhere deep within me, quiet but impossible to ignore. there was a strange kind of comfort in knowing that this time would be different.
before, we had only been two people becoming aware of each other, carefully learning the outlines of who we were. now though, we knew. we recognized each other in a way that went beyond a name on a screen or a voice through the phone. somewhere along the way, between the hours spent talking and the little pieces of ourselves we had shared, we had become connected.
„it was a hilarious pun, mr. atwood didn’t appreciate it though.“ dean chuckled, recounting yesterday’s occurrence in our political science course. someone, i assumed tucker, started turning on the amber hued lights for the backyard as the evening approached, creating a comfortable atmosphere, opposite to the chaos happening inside the house.
previously, dean and i were acquainted, seeing as we attended the same class and even sat beside one another. however, since finding out i was the one his best friend was kind of, unofficially, romantically involved with, he made an effort to build a friendship. i appreciated it plenty for i was deeply falling into a pit of infatuation for beau and having his best friend approve of me and even initiating amicability between us, was a huge relief.
he had even started calling be buddy, because apparently i reminded him a lot of that one elf from the christmas movie. i didn’t care to stop him.
the group had divided all over the house and garden: logan and tucker had stayed in the house, where their close friends were playing games, to keep the chaos manageable. garrett and hannah had disappeared a while ago, leaving dean, allie, and i sat by the picnic table in the backyard, laughing endlessly.
at first i had pretended i hadn’t caught glimpses of dean‘s hands occasionally sliding too close to allie’s waist, or the way he would try to subtly catch a whiff of her perfume. although, remaining blind to the way he’d caress her untameable waves, was only possible if you’d been a fool.
as one would expect, allie had folded and told me they were sleeping together, casually only of course. however, only a loon would believe that with the way dean naturally gravitated towards her. similarly, i have known allie hayes for too long to not be able to see how thrilled she was around him. they fit in a chaotic way that just made sense.
witnessing that pulled at my heartstrings, joyful for the pair but longing for that same kind of affection, as well.
a finger poked my side gently, „you okay?“
i blinked rapidly, unaware of my daydreaming, „huh? of course, yeah.“ i sighed out a startled laugh.
allie‘s unconvinced smile and nod told a whole other story than her frowning eyebrows. the blond head of dean settled on her shoulder from behind, sharing an identical kind of frowning that almost pulled a laugh out of me.
their chemistry was unconcealable.
he then leaned back and took a long chug of his beer, „have you talked to him today?“ dean spoke while brushing his palm across his mouth.
he didn’t need to mention who he was referring to.
i nod as i reach down for my mocktail i’d placed on the lawn before us, „he called this morning.“ ice clinked gently in the glass as i rolled it absently between my hands, „we talked for a bit, then he went kinda m.i.a throughout the day.“ i shrug.
i wanted to remain optimistic and have faith in my belief that beau maxwell was nothing like any man i’d ever been involved with, considering that he’d proved it to me countless times. but fear gnawed at every inch of my body at the thought of him choosing cowardice and ghosting me.
it would be more humiliating than anything else, now that our groups were officially intertwined, with my newfound friendship with dean, and the spatial proximity between us that we dismissed previously couldn’t be ignored anymore.
if it was hard to overlook beau maxwell before, it’d be unattainable now.
allie suddenly stood up, pulling me out from my incoming melancholy and startling me. her eyes sparkled with a brightness i‘d seen often throughout our years of friendship when she was truly enchanted by something. her manicured hands slapped at dean‘s shoulders, who sucked his teeth with no malice as he stood as well.
„buddy,“ dean murmured while slightly bending forward to place his heavy hand on the top of my head, shooting a wink, „i wouldn’t worry if i was you.“
then both of them retreated.
leaving me utterly pensive and bewildered.
breaking my own overthinking, i sighed and stood up from my seat at the crumbling bench and took my now half empty glass with me. my feet had to suddenly halt to a stop to avoid collision with a body before me, forcing me to to gaze upwards.
an arrangement of multicolored foliage caught my attention, hiding the figure holding it with its sheer proportion. delicate layers of fuchsia, coral, evergreen and ivory colored petals complemented one another in harmony. the fuchsia-colored hibiscus flowers caught my attention first, then the ivory-coral orchids. filled with cascading wisteria plants and evergreen calla lilies, i was enamored by the overall composition of the bouquet.
gradually, the bouquet lowered downward, then revealed the figure behind it.
there beau stood in an adorably bashful manner. a delicate giggle fell from my mouth and in return, he grinned brightly, the kind that made you forget whatever had weighed on you a heartbeat before.
beau‘s smile softened, his head tilting slightly as he studied me, „i‘m sorry i‘m late.“ he teased with a gentle rugged tone, „i had to run an errand.“ he concluded.
a delicate flutter moved through my chest, my heart betraying me as it softened at the sheer sweetness of his words and the excitement of finally being in one another’s presence.
„hey, angel.“ beau murmured. then he closed the distance between our bodies with a single step, glancing down at me with his bashful grin. his fingers of his free hand lightly caught the belt loop of my skirt, a playful little tug bringing me just a little closer while his tongue briefly traced his lips.
i laughed fondly, breaking the hypnotic trance that is beau maxwell, „hi, beau.“ i whisper back with a natural ease, though, this sort of felt like an outer-bodily-experience, for my words seemed to disappear somewhere between my thoughts and my mouth. a small, quiet solace bloomed in the warmth of recognition between us.
beau‘s head tilted slightly as he studied me, „are you disappointed?“ he teased with a gentle rugged tone. his fingers fiddled with my skirt, eliciting excited jolts of goosebumps through my body. his cologne, cedar and old-spice i believed, engulfed me and was adding to his hypnotic charm even more.
„don’t worry, beau. you’re a pretty nice sight.“ i respond jokingly, though truthful.
beau looked undoubtably more handsome directly than i’d imagined. those passing glimpses i had gotten from him around campus and our daily calls didn’t do him any justice. my pulse hammered so violently against my ribs that i was certain he could hear the chaos he was causing in me.
he raises an eyebrow while trying, and failing, to conceal his evergrowing smirk, „pretty, you say?“
“don‘t make me repeat it.”
“i‘m just making sure i heard you correctly.” his voice carried that familiar teasing edge i had gotten accustomed to through late-night conversations and endless messages, except now here he was, standing before me, oh so dangerously handsome.
“you did.”
for a moment, neither of us moved. the lukewarm breezy breathed softly around us, while the first crickets started their steady, rhythmic hum in the shadows of the evening.
a slow grin spread across his face, the kind that looked like he was trying very hard not to seem as pleased as he actually was. but by now, i knew beau maxwell pretty well.
“oh, angel.” he shook his brown waves, „you know how to make a man weak. i‘ll be thinking about that all night,” he added, the smug grin on his face growing as he let out a quiet, amused groan.
i couldn’t help but laugh, fully infatuated by his antics. the teasing eventually faded into a comfortable quiet, the kind that no longer felt unfamiliar. beaus fingers unraveled from my skirt and slid along my hip until he reached my palm. the touch lingered, tender and uncertain, offering me the freedom to retreat if i wished. our fingers intertwined without thought, as if they had already known the shape of one another.
which was ridiculous, because they hadn’t. not until now.
“these are for you.”
i looked at our intertwined fingers as if taking in the weight of the moment, then gazed to his occupied hand. a soft, involuntary hum vibrated in my throat as the scent of the fresh petals washed over me. my eyelids fluttered shut for a brief, dizzying second, my whole body sinking into a profound, heavy weightlessness. when i opened them, my vision blurred slightly at the edges, entirely locked onto him, while a genuine, unprompted ache of sweetness expanded behind my ribs, making my hands cradle the bouquet against my chest like something sacred.
beau looked back at me with quiet devotion, a small smile gathering at the edges of his expression. he didn't say a word, but his gaze dropped to the base of my throat, locking onto the rapid, telltale flutter of my pulse. under the weight of his observation, my fingers trembled against the magenta-pink paper wrapping.
his empty hands found my hips, fingers digging softly through the fabric of my clothes as he gathered me against him. the sudden, solid warmth of his chest pressed against mine, erasing the remaining air between us. automatically, my free hand flattened against his chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart beneath the fabric.
before i could catch my breath, his right hand slid upward, palm tracing the curve of my neck until his fingers cupped my jaw. the world narrowed down to the steady beat of his heart under my palms as he tilted my face just enough to press his lips lingeringly, against my forehead.
"say something," beau murmured, his thumb slightly tracing my lips, „because if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not going to let you step away."
my heart did a violent flip, palm now resting on the back of his neck, slightly caressing his skin. "what if i don’t want you to?" i whispered, my voice laced with a sudden, breathless heat.
beau didn't blink, his grip at my waist anchoring me flush against him. amber twilight washed over us, melting the sharp edges of the shadows until the only real thing left in existence was the solid, radiating heat passing between our chests.
„good,“ beau rasps, „because i plan on keeping you for a long time."
beau finds out you don’t understand a single thing about football and decides it’s his duty to teach you
part one (5.4k) | part two (3.1k)
HE LEAVES FOR TEN MINUTES (5.7k) ♡
a night out takes an uncomfortable turn when beau is away for a moment, leaving dean to step in and protect his best friend’s girlfriend
DON’T LOSE THEM (11.4k)
months after a drunk photobooth kiss, dean finds the pictures tucked neatly inside beau’s wallet, forcing you to finally confront what that night meant.
LITTLE THINGS (2.8k)
you and beau fall deeper in love through the quiet, ordinary ways you’ve learned to know each other throughout the years
RULES
known among the hockey team for never giving anyone a third chance, you unexpectedly find yourself drawn to the football player
part one (5.2k) | part two (coming soon)
THINGS WE SHOULDN’T SAY (coming soon)
what if this is the argument that causes you to break up
BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER (coming soon)
when beau goes to see his sister’s play he unexpectedly meets her best friend back stage. joanna is convinced they’re soulmates
REPLACED (coming soon)
as the girlfriend of a famous nfl player, not much about your life is kept secret. especially not when you are found at every single concert of your favourite artist
description: how cliche of you to fall for briar u's most famous playboy. you knew better, but what the heart wants and what your brains knows do not always line up.
warnings: angst, dean and reader are lowkey mean to each other, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, manhandling, headlock, brat/brat tamer dynamics, degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), face sitting, mirror sex, slight body worship, nipple play, creampie, dumbification, pillowtalk
word count: 10k
a/n: i'm not editing all this shit bro lol — divider from @designlikenonsense and pics are from pinterest
5 missed calls and 28 unanswered text later, you were dancing with some random guy at a Sig Tau party.
You should have known better than to get involved with Dean Di Laurentis of all people—in fact, it was supposed to be a cardinal rule for you and your friend group: do not sleep with any guys from the hockey team under any circumstances, and especially not Dean Di Laurentis. It had now become a rule that you had broken, over and over again.
But how were you meant to resist that pearly white smile of his, and those dimples that seemed to go on and on forever and eyes that were bluer than the sky. So you might have fallen into Dean's bed. And your bed, and in between the law books in the library, and maybe even the backseat of his car—that was only because you both had things to do and people to see, and it would not be happening again.
The two of you had originally agreed to keep things casual, because he swore that he wasn't the relationship type and you thought that you could handle that. Well, you thought wrong. Super fucking wrong. Somewhere between the late night calls and the in between class hookups, you started developing feelings for the Hawks' star defenseman.
You never mentioned your feelings to him, because you weren't fucking stupid and you knew exactly how things would end if you did. He would give you a pitying smile, remind you that he was a perpetual whore, then stop responding to you completely. So, you started doing whatever you could to avoid him. Well, as much as you could avoid someone who was in half your classes. Why did you have to start hooking up with someone in the same major as you? Anytime he tried to meet up with you for a hookup, you'd come up with some lame excuse, like how your roommate needed your help studying or how you had to help tutor some freshman in college algebra. You suck at college algebra.
You'd think that by now that Dean would've taken the hint that you didn't want to see him anymore, but he didn't. He started showing up out of nowhere, almost as if he had some sort of sixth sense—or a tracker— for where you would be and when you would be there. Did he get ahold of your schedule somehow? How he found the time to trail you in between his classes, his hockey schedule, and whatever frat events he was apart of, you had no clue. But it's kind of hard to get over a crush when the subject is just around every corner. Maybe if you start running like a bat out of hell every time you run into him, he would get the hint and leave you alone.
And yeah, being at a party that was being thrown by his frat probably wasn't the best way to avoid Dean, but your friends had dragged you here and they would not take no for an answer—something about not wanting you to become a hermit, whatever that's supposed to mean. So here you were, grinding against some guy to the beat of the music while he held you against him.
He wasn't the worst looking guy in the world; in fact, if you weren't so hung up on Dean at the moment you probably would've given him a real chance. Floppy brown hair, eyes that match your favorite brand of chocolate, and just the right amount of muscle to not be intruding or bothersome—but he wasn't him. Everything about him was wrong, and his touch… it wasn't repulsive, but it was a far cry from the safety that Dean's hands on your body brought you. His cologne was too strong—he smelled like someone who was trying too hard to be noticed, which was far from the way Dean effortlessly drew attention from everyone the moment he stepped in the room. He was a far cry from Dean Di Laurentis, and therefore a far cry from anything your mind and body craved. So he would just have to settle for this little dance tonight, and when he eventually asked for your number or for the two of you to get a room upstairs, you would politely turn him down and walk away.
Although, your friends have been telling you that the best way to get over Dean was by getting under somebody else. But your heart wasn't in it, at least not for tonight.
"Excuse me, you don't mind if I cut in, do you?" A familiar voice rings out from behind you. You whip around to see Dean standing behind the guy you were dancing with, all charming smiles and tight sweaters. A very nice, very tight sweater that showed off every hard earned muscle throughout his chest and arms.
"No problem, man." The guy says before walking away, probably off to find some other girl to sleep with tonight. On second thought, maybe you should have offered to sleep with him sooner or something. Anything to get you out of your current situation.
"You know, if I were a more insecure or paranoid man, I'd think that you were avoiding me or something, baby." He says as his hands slide into place on your waist, pulling you in so close you could smell the expensive cologne he had already begun to sweat off. "Good thing I'm not either of those things though, right?"
You don't respond right away, sucking in a deep breath to try and figure out what exactly it is you want to say to him. If you just went ahead and told him the truth, all of this could be over. He'd reject you, you'd run out in tears and spend the next couple days holed up in your dorm stuffing your face with whatever junk food you could get your hands on. Sure, it might be humiliating to get rejected in front of all these people, but at the moment it seems more worth it than having to be so close to him, yet unable to truly have him as you wish to.
On the other hand, you could try and keep up this web of lies. Tell him that you've been really busy lately, or that you had to pick up extra shifts at the cafe or something. But these lies you were telling clearly weren't working anymore, or else you wouldn't be standing face to face with the man who's been haunting your dreams as of late.
"Come with me." Dean says before you can make up your mind, tugging you by your hand to one of the rooms upstairs. He shuts and locks the door behind the two of you before turning to you, his arms crossed over his chest.
Fuck, that sweater is really doing numbers for him. Under different circumstances, right now you would be peeling it off of him while your lips melded together. "What's up?" You ask, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly. As if this situation couldn't get anymore embarrassing for you.
"I don't know, baby, what's up with you? It seems like you spend all your time avoiding me these days." The way he says this almost makes it seem like he doesn't care, but there's this undercurrent of something else, something almost forlorn about his words. The smile on his lips doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Did I do something to piss you off? Why are you acting like I'm some dorky freshman who hasn't figured out how to talk to women properly yet?"
"I'm not ignoring you, Dean, I've just been a little busy lately." The words taste like ash on your tongue, and you wish so badly that you could take them back as soon as you see the hurt flash across Dean's face. But you're a little bit inebriated, and you're panicking, and you just keep fucking talking. "Sorry if I'm not at your beck and call like all your other puck bunnies."
The way that Dean's jaw clenches should be even more reason for you to take back everything you just said, but you don't. Maybe this is the way to go; insulting him and the people around him until he decides he wants nothing to do with you. Who would've thought all those months ago that you would ever be so desperate for a man—this man in particular— to be the one to break your heart?
Dean says your name with the same reverence one might call their loved one, which makes no sense. He's not in love with you—in fact, you would put good money on the fact that he just might be incapable of such a powerful feeling. And even if he was, it certainly wouldn't be directed towards you. Dean Di Laurentis was not in love with you, and you were not the kind of girl he would ever love, no matter how many nights you sat on your bed and wished that things were different.
"You know what, I can't do this anymore, Dean. It was insane of me to think that the two of us hooking up could end any other way than this." You make sure to interrupt him before he can get another word in, before he could sweet talk you into changing your mind about what you were about to say. Because you were a weak woman, and even the simplest of words from the mouth of Dean Di Laurentis would crumble what little resolve you had to end this. "This was a mistake, I never should have slept with you in the first place."
There was no mistaking the hint of truth in your words; it was a mistake for you and Dean to sleep together. But not because of him or anything he'd done, but because you were a fucking idiot who walked through life with your heart on your sleeve. And that was a dangerous way to live when dealing with the campus' biggest self proclaimed commitment-phobe.
The silence hung between you like heavy rain clouds, just before the pressure became too much and all the rain came crashing down on everyone.
When Dean speaks, his voice and face were devoid of any of the emotion and warmth you had grown used to and begun to crave. "Alright."
The door shut behind him, the sound echoing through your brain like the final nail in the coffin. For a second there, you could have sworn that there were tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, but you must have been imagining things.
Dean Di Laurentis was not a crier, and he most certainly would never be crying over a girl that he was just hooking up with. So why did you feel like you were the worst person in the world right now, and why was there a pit in your stomach the size of the Grand Canyon?
You would think that after finally breaking things off—or would severing with a rusted butcher's knife be a more apt description?— between you and Dean, you would finally be able to move on.
Oh, how wrong you were. Silly you, for thinking that anything involving getting rid your feelings for Dean would come easy.
If anything, you were worse off now than you had been when you were just straight up ignoring him. You spent most of your time outside of class and work in your bed, scrolling through Dean's Instagram page obsessively like a crazy ex girlfriend. What exactly were you looking for? And why were you even looking in the first place? Things ended between the two of you because of what you said to him, so you really shouldn't be so enthralled with what may or may not be going on in his life.
After another long day of pretending not to notice him in your classes, you were once again curled up under your blanket, cyber stalking the man who you just couldn't seem to forget. He hadn't been posting to his story much lately—maybe he was busy? Yeah, he was probably just busy, or something. There's a fleeting thought in the back of your mind that he could have already found another girl to fuck, but you push it and it's bitter taste deep into the chest that is your brain.
Since there was nothing new to check out on his story, and there certainly weren't any new grid posts, you decided to just scroll through his old posts for a bit. Most of the ones at the top were him and his teammates doing stupid shit, or clips from post game interviews analyzing just how well he played that night. You smiled softly as you listened to what was being said about him; you didn't know much about hockey, but you could still tell just how good he was at the sport, and hearing the well deserved praise be directed at him made you happy.
You fall into a familiar rhythm, giggling softly at your screen as you watch Beau hold Dean upside down for 2 minutes as part of some dumb dare. Your finger moves on autopilot before you can even think, liking Dean's post.
"Shit!" You exclaim as you shoot up, quickly unliking the post and throwing your phone on the other end of your bed with a little too much force. "Shit, shit, shit!"
As if the past couple weeks hadn't been bad enough for you, you just went and liked one of Dean's posts. A post from 3 months ago, making it quite obvious that you were stalking him—and still thinking of him— like some weirdo.
"Oh my fucking god." You groan as you aggressively rub your hands over your face. "I can't believe that I just did that, what the hell is wrong with me?" The words are whispered in shock as you look at your phone.
There's always the chance that he didn't see the notification. He could be in bed with some other girl, his phone on his nightstand while he did things to her you could only wish for now. You quickly ignore that resurfacing thought and the conflicting emotions it brings, grabbing the offensive device from atop your covers and reopening Instagram. You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip before blocking Dean's account for your own safety and sanity. Clearly you couldn't be trusted with unlimited access to it, or the man behind it.
Tonight, you would push the last of Dean Di Laurentis and the whole ephemeral affair out of your mind once and for all. Tonight, you would pretend like you didn't still dream of all the nights you spent tangled in his sheets as if you belonged.
Getting over Dean Di Laurentis was hard. Really fucking hard, despite your consistent effort to never come face to face with the man ever again. But the universe was a cruel mistress, and she seemingly had other plans for you.
Of course you knew that there was a partnered project coming up in your Mass Media and Politics class, you'd spent an absorbent amount of time studying it to make sure you wouldn't fall behind in your work. But you had mistakenly assumed that you'd be able to pick who you partnered up with for the project. What a huge fucking mistake that was on your part.
Not being able to pick your partner was less than ideal, but you could make it work. You were a pleasant person to be around, and you could work with almost anyone when it was important enough. And 15% of your final grade was pretty fucking important to you, so were determined to not fuck this up, no matter who you got partnered up with.
Until you walked to the front of the classroom and saw who your professor paired you up with for this assignment. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." You muttered under your breath as your eyes went over the name beside yours.
Of all people in this class you wanted to work with, Dean Di Laurentis was at the very bottom of your list. Not because he was a bad student—no, annoyingly enough he was great in this class, with the two of you competing for that coveted top spot all semester. But how were you supposed to spend the next 3 weeks working beside him when the last time the two of you were face to face, you shattered your own heart into a million little pieces and treated him like the gum at the bottom of your shoe?
"Looks like me and you will be spending a lot of time together for the next couple weeks, sweetheart." Dean whispers into your ear from behind. You flinch at his sudden appearance, clutching a hand over your chest as you spin around to face him.
There was nothing different about him, at least not physically. His hair was still perfectly styled, his jaw was clean shaven, and there was not a single piece of lint on his shirt. Anyone who didn't know him would think that there was nothing wrong. But you knew better than that. There was something missing from his eyes—a warmth or a feeling, maybe?— that you used to look forward to when you met up with him. Now he reminded you of an old broken sculpture; beautiful in every way imaginable, but cold, dull, and somewhat lifeless. It was unnatural for him, but why? What could have sucked the life out of the most energetic man you've ever known?
"Yeah, looks like it." You say casually, clearing your throat as you readjust your grip on your bag. There was no reason for you to be so nervous about this; the two of you could act like civil adults around each other for a bit. Especially considering the fact that the two of you were never anything serious, and your grade depended on the two of you getting along for a while. "Look, I can figure out a schedule so that you don't have to take too much of your time to meet up with me. I know you're probably pretty busy with hockey and, like, everything else."
There's a flash of something in Dean's eyes at your words, but it's gone almost as quickly as it came. "Yeah, sure, whatever. But you know, for this project to actually work, you need to actually respond to my messages."
Your breath catches in your throat when he says this, your mouth opening and closing as you try and come up with a response. What could you possibly even say to something like that? Should you even respond to his little dig about you ignoring him? "I'm sorry." Is all you can manage, your voice so soft you can barely even hear it yourself.
Dean's jaw clenches as he studies you, taking in the way your shoulders have tensed up and you seem to have shrunken in on yourself. "It's whatever, it's not like we were in a relationship or anything. It was just your good old, casual sex, right? Because that's all I'm good for, according to you."
Your eyebrows furrow at that, your mouth parting from shock. It wasn't like Dean at all to get angry, and especially not because of a girl he used to hook up with. But hadn't he been the one to insist that the two of you kept things casual? Why was he acting like all of this was your fault, when he's the one with commitment issues?
"Dean, I didn't mean any of it like that—"
"Just forget it, forget that I said anything. I'll text you whenever I'm free next." He says, turning and practically flying out of the classroom before you even get the chance to finish your sentence.
In an ideal world, you'd like to say that things between you and Dean weren't awkward at all. You would love to be able to say that you and him worked together on your project with no problems, and that the two of you even managed to become friends again. But that would be a lie, because ever since you and Dean started meeting up again to work on your project, the two of you have been bickering like school children. Or an old married couple, a voice in the back of your head declared.
You knew that his schedule was packed, but finding time for the two of you to meet was turning into one giant headache. At this point, it would be easier for you to pull someone's teeth out with your bare fucking hands. And whenever you did manage to find time for the two of you to meet, it always had to be at his place because it usually fell in between classes and his hockey practice. Once again, everything in your world revolved around him, and his needs, and what it was that he wanted.
The only upside to this was that one of his roommates seemed to be some sort of aspiring chef, and was always looking for new recipes to try out. Who were you to turn down a free home cooked meal?
"So, what class is this project for again?" Tucker asks as he stirs some red sauce in a pan.
"Mass Media and Politics, it's a requirement for all Poli Sci majors." You explain as you steal a cherry tomato from the cutting board, ignoring the glare Tucker shoots your way.
"I thought you were majoring in journalism?" Tucker asks as he moves the cutting board out of your reach, much to your dismay.
"Because I am, I just also happen to be a political science major as well." You grin at the look Tucker gives you, the look that most people give you when you share that piece of information. "Yes, I know, double majoring is an insane thing to do. But I want to be a journalist who reports on politics, and I figured that it would be better to kill two birds with one stone."
"Wow, you really are insane. It's no wonder that Dean is so obsessed with you, you two are the same brand of crazy." The last part of his sentence is muttered under his breath, almost like a secret, but you still manage to catch it. There isn't a chance for you to get clarification though, because Dean chooses that exact moment to come down the stairs. In only a towel, and still dripping wet from his shower, steam still radiating off his body.
You didn't trust yourself to not stare and say something ridiculous and embarrassing, so resigned yourself to staring solely at the countertop. He had to be doing this shit on purpose to mess with you, right? There was no way that he normally walked around the house in just his towel.
"I should be ready in a couple minutes, don't worry. You won't have to sit here and listen to Tucker much longer." He says as he casually waltzes over to the fridge for a bottle of water.
From the way Tucker doesn't even spare his teammate a glance, you can tell that this is a common occurrence. You wait until he is fully up the stairs and in his room before even thinking about lifting your head in the direction he just came from.
"What did you mean by him being obsessed with me?" You ask once you're sure that the coast is clear and Dean can't hear the two of you.
"Hm?" Tucker hums innocently, but you can see straight through his act. His shoulders are tensed up, and he's moving slower than he was before.
"You made a comment, something about Dean being obsessed with me, what did you mean by that?" You ask as you lean closer, staring him down in hopes that he would crack. Tucker was clearly a very sweet boy and somewhat of a people pleaser, which means that you probably wouldn't have to apply much pressure to get what you want.
"I don't remember saying anything like that, what do you mean?" Tucker is avoiding your gaze entirely, suddenly very focused on the dish he was making. You narrowed your eyes at him, but Dean was calling your name and he wasn't the most patient man in the world.
"This isn't over, John Tucker!" You call over your shoulder as grab your bag and walk upstairs to Dean's room. When you push the door open Dean is already sitting at his desk, thankfully fully dressed, his notebooks and laptop arranged carefully in front of him.
You and Dean were about halfway through the research part of your project, which meant that soon enough you could go back to pretending that the other person didn't exist. But you weren't quite there yet, so you perched yourself on the edge of the bed and started taking out your own supplies.
"Did that article from the New York Times help at all?" You ask after a few moments of awkward silence. There was no reason for the two of you to be completely miserable while working on this project, and a little small talk never hurt anybody.
"Yeah, it did." Is all that Dean says in response, causing you to frown. The two of you had gone from arguing every few minutes, to him seemingly ignoring your presence all together. The two of you just sat there quietly, each working on your part of the project. There were no more funny jokes, no more suggestive looks or flirtatious comments that used to make you blush, or comments about how your days have been. It was almost as if the two of you were strangers, not people who had shared the very bed you were sitting on right now.
"Okay, look, I can't fucking take this anymore." You say as you slam your laptop shut, ignoring the way the loud noise makes Dean jumps in surprise. "Could you please just, like, talk to me, or something? Hell, you can even yell at me if it's what makes you feel better, but just please say something because the silence makes me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind!"
For a moment, there is no response from Dean. He's just staring at you—actually, staring through you might be a better description. It's been impossible for you to read his face lately, and it's especially frustrating to not have that skill right now when you would give anything for the tiniest hint of emotion from him. But the silence just drags on, and you refuse to embarrass yourself in front of Dean even more than you already have.
You've packed up your stuff and have walked out the door before Dean can even fully process what you've said. There's a moment where you think you could've heard Dean say something like "I'm in love with you", but you know that you're just imagining it. Because someone who loved you would not be treating you like Dean is treating you right now.
Fuck this stupid fucking Mass Media project, and fuck Dean Di Laurentis and his stupid fucking charming nature. If he was more of a dick, you never would've fallen for him and you wouldn't be sitting on the edge of your bed contemplating if 15% of your grade was really worth it. How and when did things in your life manage to become so messy, and why had you let it get this way?
Your laptop is open in front of you, the draft for your presentation open and mocking you. You've been trying to work for 2 hours now with no luck, because all you can focus on is Dean Di Laurentis. You slam your laptop shut and push it away with a frustrated groan, flopping back onto your bed. You weren't getting anywhere with this project tonight, so there was no point in trying to force words onto the document.
It was too late in the semester to drop the class, but failing it and taking it again next semester was not an option for you. Maybe you could talk your professor into letting you do the project by yourself instead of with a partner? Without Dean as a distraction, you're certain that you could do everything yourself, even with only a week left until the due date. The all nighters might kill you, but anything would be worth it at this point to get away from him.
You're pulled out of your spiral of useless self pity by a loud knocking at the door. Did your roommate leave her keys in her room again? You push yourself up with a groan as the knocking grows even louder and more insistent. "I'm coming, I'm coming, don't rush me! You can't get mad at me for taking too long to open the door when you're the one constantly leaving your keys in your room."
But when you open the door, it's not your roommate standing across from you; it's Dean, and to be frank, he looks like absolute shit. There's a small part of you, a very small part, that takes joy in the fact that he looks almost as bad as you feel on the inside. "Do you mind if I come in for a bit? We need to talk."
You nod, stepping aside wordlessly and opening the door more so that Dean could step inside. He'd been in here a few times before, but now he looked awkward and out of place just standing in a space that was yours. He was wearing a Briar U Athletics Department hoodie with regular—probably old—grey sweatpants, looking around the room like he had never been there before.
"What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" You ask as you toy with the hem of your shirt, unable to meet Dean's gaze. God, this was so fucking awkward.
"I came here to apologize to you, for, you know, acting like a dick these past couple weeks." Dean's words are blurted out, and they're too jumbled together for you to decipher what was said at first. He clearly takes the prolonged silence as a cue to keep talking, so he does. "It's not fair of me to be mad at you the way I have been, especially when you don't know what you did wrong—not that you did anything wrong, of course! It's completely valid for you to decide that you don't want to hook up with me anymore, and you are under no obligation to reciprocate my feelings for you, no matter how shitty it makes me feel."
Dean and you stand there for a few moments after he finishes speaking, looking at each other but neither of you daring to speak a word. Of all things to happen to night, Dean Di Laurentis coming into your dorm was already at the damn near bottom of the list, but him seemingly admitting to having feelings for you? Never in a million years did you think that you'd be in this position right now, and what's worse is that you don't know how to feel about it.
"Are you saying that you're in love with me, Dean?" You whisper as you look up at him, your hands flexing from nerves. Dean scoffs at your question, shaking his head and stepping closer, as if you had just said the most unbelievable thing in the world.
"In love with you? Baby, I would worship the fucking ground that you walk on if you would just let me. In fact, I would do any and every little thing that you wanted me to, without a moment of hesitation, just because it was what you wanted. And believe me, I know how fucking crazy I sound—the guys told me as such when I told them what I was coming over here for—but I just can't bring myself to give a shit. I'm in love with you, sweetheart, and the worst part of it all is that I don't even care if you tell me you feel the same way! But I couldn't just keep walking around, knowing what I know and feeling what I feel, without at least trying to tell you about it."
Your breath hitches in your throat at the sheer intensity of Dean's words. They've floated through your head and settled in your brain, taking root there like they never planned on leaving. This was everything you'd been hoping for these past couple weeks, and more, because Dean Di Laurentis of all people was standing here in front of you, professing his love to you. So why was it so hard for you to think of a response to his confession?
"Fuck this was a crazy idea—I'm sorry for springing this on you, I should go." Dean mumbles under his breath, rushing towards the door. You grab the sleeve of his hoodie before he can get too far away from you, tugging his body towards yours and bringing him down for a kiss. There's a moment where his body tenses from shock, and you worry that you've made a mistake, but he quickly melts into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand gently cups your cheek. The kiss is electric, more than any kiss the two of you have shared in the past. This isn't just a kiss born out of passion, it's a kiss born from a want, a need, a desperation for each other that was not there before, and that would not be understood by most others.
Because before this, the two of you didn't understand each other as well as you thought you did, but you do now. Dean's eyes are a bit unfocused when the two of you finally pull apart, the both of you taking shallow breaths from such an intense kiss. "Is that enough of an answer for you, Di Laurentis?" You ask with a small smile as you look up at him, your hands resting on his shoulders.
"I don't know, I think that I might need another kiss or something; you know, to see if I really get your answer." Dean says with a smirk, hooking a finger under your chin to bring your lips together again. You giggling softly against his lips, standing on the tips of your toes just so that you could be as close to him as possible. He pulls away with a groan after a moment, resting his head on your shoulder and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're making it really hard for me to be a gentleman right now."
"And who said that I wanted you to act like a gentleman right now?" You asked with a raised brow, trailing your finger down his collarbone. Dean's jaw ticks, his eyes roaming slowly down your form before coming back up to meet your heated gaze.
"All you had to do was ask for it, sweetheart." He murmurs, hoisting you up by your legs as he carries you to your bedroom. You waste no time wrapping your legs around him, trailing kisses and nibbling on his neck as he gently lays you down on your bed.
"Did you lock the door?" You ask as you gently push Dean away. He pouts softly, glancing between you laid out in front of him and the door behind him. It seems like it physically pains him to walk away, but he gets up nonetheless and locks the door to make sure no one would walk in on the two of you. "You're killing me here, baby, did you know that?"
"Oh please, you've waited this long to have sex with me again, the 5 extra seconds it took you to get up and lock the door is not going to kill you." You say as he climbs back on top of you, your hands immediately reaching to pull his hoodie over his head.
"Are you kidding, have you seen yourself? I'd be a fool to not be crazy about you, sweetheart." He says with a chuckle as he leans down to kiss you once more. Each kiss grows more and more desperate, as if he cannot live without touching you in some way, and you can't live without being close to him. His hands trail a familiar path down your sides, his touch leaving a heat in their trail as he makes his way to the waistband of your shorts. "Can I take these off of you, pretty girl?"
"Fuck yes." The words are out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up, and you choose to ignore the smug grin on Dean's face as he pulls down your shorts and underwear at once, leaving hot kisses along your thighs and down your legs as he goes. He nips your ankle as he sits up straighter, throwing your shorts and underwear over his shoulder.
"I have an idea, baby—you trust me, right?" The question is paired with the feeling of his thumb tracing circles on your ankle as he settles himself between your legs. When you nod, he hums disapprovingly and shakes his head. "No, I need words, baby. I can't have kissed you stupid already, can I?"
"Yes, Dean, I trust you." You whisper, making sure to look him directly in the eye as the words come out your mouth. There's a beat where neither of you say anything and nothing is done, before Dean is laying down and pulling you up on top of him. "You want me to ride you? We've done that a million times before, why'd you ask if I trust you?"
"Because you won't be riding me, baby—at least, not in the sense that you're used to." Dean says, tilting his head back to look in the mirror across from your bed. You can tell that he's getting another idea, but he tucks it away for now to look back up at you as he rubs the bare skin of your thighs. "You're gonna ride my face, sweetheart."
Your heart drops to your stomach as you look at the man underneath you, your mouth falling open in shock. "I'm going to do what now? Dean, I'm not sure that that's a good idea, what if I like, suffocate you or something?"
"Then I'd die a very, very happy man, baby." He says with a snort, that smile of his a little too happy at the prospect of being smothered to death by your pussy. "Just trust me, okay? I've got you, I'll make sure that this is a pleasurable experience for both of us."
You hesitate, biting down on your lip as you take a moment to think this through. On the one hand, this is something that you've always wanted to try, and the thought of Dean being the one you were doing it with excited you more than you'd like to admit. But on the flip side, there were about a dozen things that could go wrong with this swirling around in your head, making it hard for you to relax and fully enjoy this.
But you trusted Dean—way more than you probably should, if you were to be honest with yourself—and if he said that this was safe and that he'd take care of you, then who were you to doubt him? And you knew that if things became too much for you and you started to freak out, all you had to do was tell Dean and he would put an end to it immediately. There was no way you were letting that stupid voice in your head get in between you, and some of the best head you were ever going to experience.
"Alright, but if I tap you on the shoulder it means I want down, got it?" You say, adjusting slightly in Dean's lap.
"Of course, of course, all you have to do is ask me. Whatever you want, sweetheart." He says as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "Now, come sit on my face."
You roll your eyes at his phrasing, but you still scoot until you're hovering nervously over his face. He gives you a small reassuring nod, his hands gripping your hips as he brings you down so that you're fully sitting on his face. He takes a moment, allowing you a moment to get comfortable in this new position before giving that first, tentative lick up your slit. It feels good, like it always does with Dean, but it's taking you a bit longer to get used to the new position than you would like.
"You're thinking too deeply about this, pretty girl." Dean whispers as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. "You just need to relax a bit, and let me do all the work. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"
You give a soft hum of acknowledgement, allowing Dean complete and total control over your body right now. He squeezes your thigh reassuringly before bringing you down almost impossibly closer onto his mouth. You moan softly as he sucks and nips at your clit, leaning back slightly and resting your hands on his chest to help you keep your balance.
The only way to describe Dean's skill at eating you out is by calling him a natural born talent; he knows just how and when to suck, when to nip, and just how much pressure to apply to drive you crazy. You don't even realize that you're doing it, but your hips are moving on their own to meet Dean's lips. Your head is tipped back and your eyes are fluttering shut and Dean is holding onto you like you might roll off him at any second—which you honestly might from how good this feels if he keeps this up—and it's all so much all at once.
"Dean." You whine as you grind your hips down against his lips, your hands gripping onto him just a little tighter.
"Yes, beautiful?" He whispers as he nips at your clit, the vibration from his words inching you closer and closer to the edge. "Are you gonna cum for me, is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"Fuck, yes! Yes, please, just—for the love of god, don't fucking stop." Your voice already starting to get hoarse from all the moaning you've been doing since Dean decide to suck your soul from inside your body. You can feel the smirk on his face—you'd curse him out for that later—as he doubles his efforts, sucking and licking your clit so hard that you cum with a shout, your vision blurring around the edges.
He works you through your orgasm, kissing along your slit and your thighs as you come down. You slide backwards onto his lap, your chest rising and falling with each deep breath you take. "You okay, baby?" He asks softly, rubbing his thumbs along your hips to soothe you.
"More than okay." You say with a snort as you smile down at him. "How long have you been thinking about doing that?"
"If I'm being honest, I've been thinking about that since the first time we slept together." Dean says with a smirk, sitting up and wrapping his arm around your waist. "And it seems like you enjoyed yourself very much, so if anything you should be thanking me for having such a brilliant idea, sweetheart."
"Don't get too full of yourself, Di Laurentis." You say as you glare at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's hard to be annoyed with him when you know that he has a point.
"I bet that you'd love to be full of me right now." Dean wriggles his brows at his stupid joke, rolling the two of you over so that he was hovering over you. "I can make that happen for you, baby, all you have to do is say the magic words."
His words are whispered between kisses down your jaw, which turn into nibbles along your collarbone that are sure to leave a mark in the morning. An impatient hum is all the warning you get before he's pulling your shirt off of you and moving his kisses slowly down your torso.
"Don't think I've ever seen someone so fucking beautiful, sweetheart." Dean mutters as he brings one hand up to cup one of your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking gently. Your whole body is sensitive from the first orgasm he gave you, making it hard for you to do anything but gasp and moan as he swirls his tongue around your nipple.
He moves his attention to your other breast, giving it the same love and care that the first one got. The great thing about Dean Di Laurentis is that he got off on giving you pleasure, and he didn't really expect anything from you in return. Well, he expected you to cum more than one time, but who were you to complain about that when he took it as a challenge to make it happen?
"You look so gorgeous underneath me like this, pretty girl. Would keep you here forever if I could, make you cum until you can't take it anymore." It's becoming clear to you that Dean has reached a point of delirium, where he just says any and every little thing that comes to his mind. "Fuck, baby, you're killing me here."
"Then why don't you do something about it, Di Laurentis?" As soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret them. Because that was a challenge, and if there was one thing Dean Di Laurentis didn't back down from, it was a challenge.
"All you had to do was ask, pretty girl." Dean says with a smirk, holding you down with one hand while using the other to remove his sweatpants and boxers. "You're such a fucking brat when you're needy, did you know that? What am I to do with someone so impatient and demanding?"
"Would you just shut up and fuck me already, or do I have to do everything myself around here?" Maybe it wasn't the best idea to snap at him right now, but you've waited long enough to have him inside you again, and he's taking forever. Perhaps he was right, you are a bit of a brat when you're not getting your way.
"Alright, but just remember that you asked for this, pretty girl." Dean whispers in your ear, biting down on your earlobe gently and tugging before flipping you on your stomach. You let out a yelp, your hands reaching out to grip onto the edge of the bed as Dean drags you onto your hands and knees.
Dean holds onto your hip with one hand, using it to pull you closer to him while the other runs his tip along your entrance teasingly. The head notches against your clit, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and move your hips back in attempt to get him inside you. He pulls away from your attempt, causing a groan of frustration to fall from your lips.
"Dean, come on, stop being such a fucking tease." You whine, bringing your hips back once more to attempt to get his dick inside you.
"I thought you liked it when I teased you, sweetheart?" Dean say mockingly as he continues running his tip up and down your slit. You open your mouth, an impatient insult on the tip of your tongue, but before you can even get it out Dean is slowly sliding inside of you.
A curse falls from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and your grip on the sheets tightens; after weeks of the two of you barely even speaking to one another, getting used to the size of him again is worse than you'd thought it'd be. The stretch of him is a familiar and welcome one, but you don't have it in you to wait a bit longer for your body to adjust.
"Stop it, you're going to hurt yourself." Dean warns, using his grip on your waist to hold you in place when you try and thrust yourself back onto him. "Just need you to be a little patient with me, baby. Come on, I know you can use that pretty little brain of yours to wait a bit. Besides, I might be a little bit bigger than you remember."
"You are so fucking full of yourself—" A sharp moan cuts off your retort as Dean sinks in another inch, and you can't see him but you just know he has that smug smile on his face.
"Actually, it seems like at the moment, the only one who's full of me right now is you." He says as he pulls out, taking a moment before sinking in only slightly deeper than he was before. He repeats this process for the next couple minutes, muttering soft praises and words of reassurance while rubbing your sides until he's worked himself up to the hilt. "There you go, good girl."
You let out a whimper that could only be described as pathetic, your pussy clamping down on Dean at the nickname. If Dean feels the movement he doesn't say anything, focusing instead on rolling his hips into yours to find that special spot inside of you.
Once he finds that spot inside of you—thanks to a very loud moan that you're glad no one else is around to hear— he puts a little more speed and intention behind his thrusts, his fingertips leaving indents in your skin.
"Oh my god, Dean, fuck!" You whine as his hips slam into yours, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. Your head is resting against the mattress, your ears filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? Am I fucking you so good that you've gone stupid?" Dean's words only serve to make the experience better, your eyes fluttering shut once more as you slump against the bed. "Don't run away from me, pretty girl, I thought we were having fun?"
One of Dean's arms slides under and around your waist to pull you flush against him, the other wrapping around your neck to put you in a headlock—not to cut off your air, but to make you aware of just how in control of you he was right now. From this position you can see you and Dean's reflection in your mirror, your eyes immediately drawn to where his cock is drilling into your hole. The sight is something of a work of art; the way Dean's muscles are straining as he holds you up against him, the fucked out look in your eyes, and the way your tits bounce from each of Dean's powerful thrusts. It's all too much, and you have this need to do something, and Dean's arm is right there, so naturally you sink your teeth into his arm, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to draw blood.
"Did you just fucking bite me, you brat?" Dean growls, but from the way his hips stutter and his dick pulses, you'd say he was into it more than he's willing to admit. "Look at you, so drunk from being split open on my dick that you bit me."
He uses the arm that's wrapped around your throat to force you to keep looking in the mirror, making eye contact with you through it. "Now you see what I see, hm? A pretty little slut who'd spend the rest of her life like this if she could."
"Don't stop, Dean, please don't stop." There are tears beginning to well up in your eyes from the feeling of Dean hitting that spot inside of you over and over again, and if Dean keeps speaking to you like this, they would certainly fall.
"Are you gonna cum, baby?" Dean asks, the hand around your waist moving down to your clit and beginning to rub tight circles on it. "Come on, pretty girl, cum on my cock for me. You always look so pretty when you come apart for me, did you know that?"
The attention on your clit is just the thing you need to send you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you cum all over Dean's cock. He fucks you through your orgasm, keeping a firm grip on you so that you don't fall over from the sheer intensity of your release. When you've finally come back into your body, you can't help but slump against the bed, whimpering at the feeling of Dean sliding out of you.
"Come here, baby, I'm not done with you yet." Dean's voice is gentle as he rolls you over onto your back, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and holding it there by your thigh.
You're too fucked out to even say anything, allowing him to manhandle you into the position he wants you in. Every point of contact between the two of you is simultaneously too much and not enough, your body trying to move towards him while also trying to shrink away from him. He taps his tip on your clit, smirking at the way you whine and roll your hips up towards him.
"Stop teasing me." You complain, finding just enough strength in yourself to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He chuckles into the crook of your neck, the breath warm against your skin as he sinks back into you.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I just can't help myself when you get all needy and pliant for me like this." He whispers, gently nipping at your collarbone as he buries himself to the hilt with a groan. "Has anyone ever told you how amazing you feel, pretty girl?"
"You have, quite a few times." You say with a smile, tilting your head back as Dean starts kissing up your jaw to give him more access. He hums softly, kissing from you jaw, to your cheeks, then to your forehead and to your nose, before finally slotting his lips against yours. The kiss is softer than the ones before, because now neither of you are in a rush to have each other. You already do, and there's no way that either of you will be letting go any time soon.
He begins thrusting again—slower this time, because he knows that you're sensitive from your previous two orgasms and wants to draw this out a bit more. "It's because it's true. And you're so fucking gorgeous like this; it should be a crime to be so fucking sexy when I'm ruining you."
With this position, Dean is able to focus more on hitting that sweet spot inside of you with more precision, causing weak moans and whimpers to fall from your lips. You dig your nails into his back, dragging them down his back as he picks up the pace with his thrusts. You've lost yourself and the ability to form proper sentences, only able to beg and plead for him to keep going and to never stop. The way he rolled his hips and brushed against your clit, the feeling of him on top of you, the scent of sex in the air—it was overwhelming and all consuming, and you weren't ready for it to end.
"Baby, if you keep clamping down on me like that I'm not gonna be able to last much longer." Dean says through gritted teeth as he slides an arm under you and pulls you up slightly so that you're arching off the bed. Dean rests one knee on the bed for better leverage, fucking up into you even harder like this. Your moans have become animalistic at this point, tears falling down your cheeks as you cum one last time with a shout. Dean only gets in a few more shallow thrusts before he's spilling inside of you with a loud moan, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucks his cum deep inside you.
The two of you collapse onto the bed, Dean rolling off to the side so that he doesn't crush you with his weight. He takes a moment to catch his breath before kissing your temple and getting out of the bed, grabbing a tissue from your desk. You whine when as he cleans up the mess between your legs, trying to push him away.
"I know, I know. But we need to get you cleaned up, okay?" He whispers, continuing to wipe you down with gentle motions. Once he's done he tosses the tissue in the trash can by your desk, climbing back into bed and pulling you into his warm embrace. "You did so well for me, pretty girl."
The two of you lay there in silence as you come down from your high, Dean tracing patterns on your back to help calm you. It takes a few minutes but your breathing finally evens out, and you lift your head up from it's spot on his shoulder. "Sorry for biting you, I hope it didn't hurt too badly." You say with a sheepish smile.
"Are you kidding me, sweetheart? That was the hottest thing you've ever done." Dean says with a snort as he tugs you closer. "No need to apologize, baby, I clearly enjoyed it very much—more than I should have, if we're being honest."
You giggle at that, shaking your head. It was good to know that you were helping Dean discover new things about himself, in more ways than one. "Sorry for like, freaking out on you and ignoring all your calls and texts, by the way. When I realized that I was developing feelings for you, I panicked because I didn't think that you would feel the same way—guess I was wrong, huh?"
Dean smiles at that, a resigned one that doesn't fully show off his dimples. "Yeah, I can't really blame you for that when I'm known on campus as the guy who will never commit to anyone." He says softly as he runs his hand along your arm. "But I promise you, I meant everything that I said earlier; I want to be with you, and I will do everything in my power to prove it to you."
"You don't have to prove a single thing to me, Dean." You say with a frown, shaking your head as you place a hand on his cheek. "I don't want you to feel like you have to put on some sort of act to be with me, I just want you to be yourself."
Dean's gaze softens, as if those were the exact words he needed to hear from you in this moment to absolve him of his insecurities. Despite the fact that he tries to act all tough and like he doesn't care if people like him or not, you know that he needs a bit of reassurance from time to time.
"Careful, if you keep being so nice to me, I won't be able to keep my hands off of you." Dean says as he nips at your earlobe again. You roll your eyes at that, because you had foolishly forgotten just how fast Dean could recover after sex.
"Are you trying to kill me or something?" You ask teasingly, squealing when Dean rolls you over onto your back.
"Kill you? I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart—but I do plan on making you feel very good for the rest of the night." He says with a smirk before diving in to leave more hickeys along your neck and collarbone. Fuck, you were in for a treat tonight.
summary — allie’s gift for challenging your stubbornness and a mere right swipe leads to the ultimate campus match, worthy of the heisman trophy
writing for the briar hawks boys based on harry styles songs fem!reader x beau maxwell, dating app trope — classmates to lovers, no warnings ! three acts
act i.
„i bet you won’t.“
allie‘s white wine sloshes around her wineglass at her rapid rise from my sofa but she remains holding it skillfully in her manicured hand.
as the evening progressed into night and the windows turned into a dark mirror reflecting the room, allie and i had made a comfortable wine and pizza night in my living room, where suddenly the certain topic of dating had come up.
ever since her breakup with sean, she’d become so free, allie had a new cheeky manner about her and i loved it for her. she was in that awkward in between of freshly being freed from commitment and stepping into fortuitous possibilities. however, that also meant her interest in grumbling about romance, and protesting it generally and her micro-analyzing habit of my lack of interest in dating-slash-hookups increased.
i groan in agitation, knowing she got me. the conversation had turned about every which way until we landed on dating apps. now allie was adamant i had to try one out and see where it would lead, saying it would be 'fun' and an 'exciting new experience'. i didn’t feel that way at all, but my best friend had a way of challenging my stubbornness like no one else.
that’s how we got to setting up a perfectly whimsy profile, according to allie, and swiping endlessly.
„oh he’s kinda cute!“
CHARLES VAN PELT, 22
lifeguard
„so not, al.“
allie whines, „babe, this is the hundredth guy you’ve swiped left. it’s becoming brutal, give one of them a chance, would you?“
my hibiscus scented candle fills the space with a gentle glow, offering some warmth into our night. i glance at her sideways, „well, i don’t like them. isn’t that the point?“
i set my wineglass down on my coffee table as she scooted closer to me, taking my manicured hand in both of hers, „the point is that you should take some risks and put yourself out there, have some fun.“ then she let go and took another slice of pepperoni pizza, „how about this, next person that pops up, you have to swipe right. who knows, you could match, you could not? but at least try.“
if you ever wondered why you should never try to reason with allison hayes is because she’ll get her way either way, so it’s easier to just give in.
„fine.“ i mumble as i reject charles. we wait a few seconds for the feed to refresh, then another account pops up suddenly.
BEAU MAXWELL, 22
college quarterback, history major
i stare at the strikingly handsome picture before me, a definite improvement from all others previously. recognition clings in my memory for a short second before i am interrupted by allie excitedly hopping on my sofa with a shriek.
„no way. dude, no way!“ she yells, grabbing my phone, „beau maxwell?“ she muses.
i frown, „you know him?“
her head snaps towards me so fast i worried she might’ve pulled something, „you have literally been in the same room as him like a million times, y/n.“ allie laughs disbelieving, glancing between my phone and i every few seconds, „that’s dean‘s best friend. i’m pretty sure you guys have the same history courses?“
my eyes squint in thoughtfulness, then i remember, yeah, he sat three rows below me. i’m pretty sure i saw him around campus and parties a few times, though seeing him around and on pictures where he is striking some funny poses, flashing his charming smile and showing off his to-drool-for physique doing what he loves, clearly differs.
while i thought, allie was scrolling through his pictures and prompts, giggling giddily, „that’s awesome, prompts says, 'the dorkiest thing about me is‘ and beau answers, 'that i love historical theater and can tell you all the drama about it‘, oh my, i love this!“
i chuckle and lean into her, taking my phone back into my hands and reading through his profile myself. i wouldn’t have expected that from a football quarterback but he is in my historical class after all, so it shouldn’t be as surprising. perhaps because he was best friends with dean di laurentis.
a picture of shirtless on top of a mountain on a sunny day, looking off into the scenery. another of him with a backwards cap smiling brightly into the camera while holding a beer like a trophy. him in his football gear. him posing at a party, shimmering of sweat though the smile on his face was so adorably bright. and if you squinted hard enough, you could see dean was cropped out of it.
allie startled me suddenly by clapping her hands once, „alright, swipe him. swipe right!“ she edged excitedly.
hesitantly, though with no complaint, i did.
then nothing. purely awaitance in deafening silence of anticipation as my heart beat rapidly inside my chest. after a few seconds, i almost shut off and threw my phone away from me, then suddenly:
you matched with beau maxwell ! say hi ;)
my heart almost leaped out of my chest as allie and i both jumped up from the couch with loud screams of both horror and laughter. she took my hands in hers, then rapidly let them go in fear of disrupting anything inside the app, lastly we covered our mouths with wide eyes and heavy breathing. my brain had to catch up with the rest of my body, and when it did, i glanced back at my phone and took a few steps backwards until the back of my thighs touched the sofa.
„what do i do?“
„text him!“
„allie, i can’t!“
our argument was disrupted by another vibration of my phone. when we chaotically leaned closer and fumbled to hold the phone still, we saw a red dotted one by the message inbox.
beau maxwell: this feels like winning the heisman trophy
allie and i scream once more, not being able to contain our thrill. she almost tips over our almost empty wine glasses by jumping up from the couch and hopping around the dorm. surely, some neighbors might complain later, but as of now, it’s totally worth it and understandable.
i drop my phone on the sofa and hide my flushing face behind my palm, disbelieving of what’s happening.
"hurry, answer!" allie hissed, her hands flapping wildly in the air as if the phone on the cushion might spontaneously combust.
i carefully pinched the edge of the screen, lifting it like a live grenade, my face burning hot. "al, what do i even answer to that?" i mumble as my slightly palm my face in nervosity.
"good question," allie shrugged, practically vibrating with excitement. "he’s paying you a huge compliment, babe. look, he surely remembers you from history class, or he knows you through dean. play it cool.“
my thumbs hover over the keyboard, suddenly feeling heavy and useless as my brain thought of what to say. if beau maxwell has this affect on me each time we talk, i’ll have a whole other issue.
allie paces the small space between the coffee table and the dark window, then took a quick sip of her remaining beverage to calm down. the keyboard glowed beneath my thumbs, each letter suddenly feeling impossibly significant. it was ridiculous, i’d written essays longer than this without a second thought, yet simple words had my mind drawing a complete blank.
you: i guess i should feel honored then
i had never been against dating, i just never cared enough to chase it. most people around campus seemed determined to make romance and or hookups the center of their college experience. sports games turned into frat parties, frat parties turned into situationships, messy breakups and rumors reaching every corner of campus.
the football and hockey crowd had always existed somewhere adjacent to my life rather than inside it and i’d definitely seen beau plenty of times, he was hard to miss. but i’d never been interested in whatever came to paying attention to these men surrounding campus. one of my best friends dating a hockey team captain definitely didn’t ease being surrounded by them.
my phone vibrated against the couch cushion, causing both allie and i to snap our heads toward it so quickly our foreheads nearly collided. then the phone buzzed again.
beau maxwell: i was hoping you would
beau maxwell: makes me feel slightly less embarrassing for sending that first message.
i found myself wondering if the version of beau everyone seemed to know, myself included, the loud, charismatic quarterback always surrounded by people, was the same guy who had admitted, without hesitation, that he’d felt awkward sending a cheesy opening line. with that thought, my thumb hovered over the keyboard again.
you: i don’t think it was embarrassing
beau maxwell: no?
you: no. definitely cheesy though
beau maxwell: i’ll gladly accept cheesy over embarrassing
allie’s eyes widened before she clapped her hands together with a delighted squeal, bouncing excitedly on the sofa cushions.
you: good
beau maxwell: i was hoping matching with me wouldn’t scare you off
my eyebrows scrunched in confusion, though eagerness still ran through my body. allie was leaning so close to me, we were practically merging together. her hand reached up, holding out a pizza slice in front of my mouth to feed me.
you: why would it?
allie hums as she chewed her own slice, “this is the best thing ever.”
beau maxwell: you don’t seem to like frat guys
you: what makes you say that?
beau maxwell: i’ve seen you around, you don’t really fraternize with anyone but your close group
beau maxwell: and yet you’re very social and appreciated by everyone
you: you noticed all of that?
beau maxwell: it’s hard not to pay attention to you
you: that’s… incredibly adorable
you: for the record
you: i’m glad we matched, beau
beau maxwell: for the record
beau maxwell: me too ;)
i let out a quiet sigh, switching my phone off before setting it beside me on the couch. leaning back into the soft cushions, i allowed the excitement to melt from my shoulders. beside me, allie curled closer without a word, her cascade of chocolate brown waves spilling over my shoulder and brushing gently against my neck. the silky strands tickled my skin, drawing a faint smile from me as she let out a soft, breathy giggle, settling comfortably into my side.
“wow.” i sighed, shaking my head.
our gazes met, and she gave a small nod, her smile never faltering.
act ii.
i’m sat by the counter in malone’s with allie, both of us sipping colorful, though non-alcoholic, drinks as we wait for hannah’s last few minutes of waitressing until shift end so we could have a girls’ night. then my phone buzzed in that particular manner that got my heart excited, knowing it was a certain quarterback i had been consistently texting with for a month now.
beau: i‘m back friday
my lips curved into the faintest smile, as effortless as the warmth slowly settling beneath my ribs. beside me, allie caught it instantly and nudged my shoulder with her own, eyebrows lifting knowingly as she stole a quick glance at my phone, a smug smile already spreading across her face.
„friday, huh?” she hummed, nudging me again, “someone couldn’t wait to let you know.”
i shrug, „or,“ i muttered, fighting the smile tugging at my lips, “he’s just letting me know because we’ve been talking.”
allie gave me a look that practically screamed you cannot be serious. “babe,” she scoffed, „he probably texted you before he texted his own mother.“ she took another sip of her drink, still grinning.
the warm buzz of conversation drifted through the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint hum of an old song playing overhead. at times, we could spot hannah hurriedly transporting filled trays between the lively tables.
you: exciting, i thought it’d be longer
beau: disappointed?
you: not at all
you: the opposite, actually
beau: i’m glad
beau: we should probably talk in person eventually
my heart gave one quiet, unexpected stutter, the feeling so fleeting i almost convinced myself i’d imagined it.
you: probably
beau: unless you plan on dating me exclusively through text messages
you: that’s a bold assumption
beau: which part?
i could almost imagine him smirking at his phone, and the thought of him being so brazen kind of excited me.
you: us dating
beau: fair
beau: would you like me to rephrase, angel?
you: not necessary
beau: good, great even
the warmth of the inside disappeared the moment we stepped outside the bar, replaced by the quiet hum of the campus at night. allie and hannah continued their conversation ahead of me, their voices blending into the background while i checked my phone one last time.
a new message waited.
beau: cause i have every intention of properly courting you once i‘m back ;)
a soft laugh escaped beneath my breath as i placed my phone back into my handbag, carefully hiding the smile it had left behind.
act iii.
the afternoon had settled into that rare kind of summer warmth that felt almost weightless as sunlight spilled lazily through the tree leaves of the boys‘ backyard, painting golden patches across the lawn and warming everything it touched.
the old picnic bench creaked softly with every shift of our bodies, though inaudible as the house behind me drowned it out with the shouting voices, and the occasional burst of carefree laughter of both hockey and some football players.
friday arrived with a softness i hadn’t realized i‘d been anticipating.
the thought of finally orbiting the same space as beau after a couple of weeks apart settled somewhere deep within me, quiet but impossible to ignore. there was a strange kind of comfort in knowing that this time would be different.
before, we had only been two people becoming aware of each other, carefully learning the outlines of who we were. now though, we knew. we recognized each other in a way that went beyond a name on a screen or a voice through the phone. somewhere along the way, between the hours spent talking and the little pieces of ourselves we had shared, we had become connected.
„it was a hilarious pun, mr. atwood didn’t appreciate it though.“ dean chuckled, recounting yesterday’s occurrence in our political science course. someone, i assumed tucker, started turning on the amber hued lights for the backyard as the evening approached, creating a comfortable atmosphere, opposite to the chaos happening inside the house.
previously, dean and i were acquainted, seeing as we attended the same class and even sat beside one another. however, since finding out i was the one his best friend was kind of, unofficially, romantically involved with, he made an effort to build a friendship. i appreciated it plenty for i was deeply falling into a pit of infatuation for beau and having his best friend approve of me and even initiating amicability between us, was a huge relief.
he had even started calling be buddy, because apparently i reminded him a lot of that one elf from the christmas movie. i didn’t care to stop him.
the group had divided all over the house and garden: logan and tucker had stayed in the house, where their close friends were playing games, to keep the chaos manageable. garrett and hannah had disappeared a while ago, leaving dean, allie, and i sat by the picnic table in the backyard, laughing endlessly.
at first i had pretended i hadn’t caught glimpses of dean‘s hands occasionally sliding too close to allie’s waist, or the way he would try to subtly catch a whiff of her perfume. although, remaining blind to the way he’d caress her untameable waves, was only possible if you’d been a fool.
as one would expect, allie had folded and told me they were sleeping together, casually only of course. however, only a loon would believe that with the way dean naturally gravitated towards her. similarly, i have known allie hayes for too long to not be able to see how thrilled she was around him. they fit in a chaotic way that just made sense.
witnessing that pulled at my heartstrings, joyful for the pair but longing for that same kind of affection, as well.
a finger poked my side gently, „you okay?“
i blinked rapidly, unaware of my daydreaming, „huh? of course, yeah.“ i sighed out a startled laugh.
allie‘s unconvinced smile and nod told a whole other story than her frowning eyebrows. the blond head of dean settled on her shoulder from behind, sharing an identical kind of frowning that almost pulled a laugh out of me.
their chemistry was unconcealable.
he then leaned back and took a long chug of his beer, „have you talked to him today?“ dean spoke while brushing his palm across his mouth.
he didn’t need to mention who he was referring to.
i nod as i reach down for my mocktail i’d placed on the lawn before us, „he called this morning.“ ice clinked gently in the glass as i rolled it absently between my hands, „we talked for a bit, then he went kinda m.i.a throughout the day.“ i shrug.
i wanted to remain optimistic and have faith in my belief that beau maxwell was nothing like any man i’d ever been involved with, considering that he’d proved it to me countless times. but fear gnawed at every inch of my body at the thought of him choosing cowardice and ghosting me.
it would be more humiliating than anything else, now that our groups were officially intertwined, with my newfound friendship with dean, and the spatial proximity between us that we dismissed previously couldn’t be ignored anymore.
if it was hard to overlook beau maxwell before, it’d be unattainable now.
allie suddenly stood up, pulling me out from my incoming melancholy and startling me. her eyes sparkled with a brightness i‘d seen often throughout our years of friendship when she was truly enchanted by something. her manicured hands slapped at dean‘s shoulders, who sucked his teeth with no malice as he stood as well.
„buddy,“ dean murmured while slightly bending forward to place his heavy hand on the top of my head, shooting a wink, „i wouldn’t worry if i was you.“
then both of them retreated.
leaving me utterly pensive and bewildered.
breaking my own overthinking, i sighed and stood up from my seat at the crumbling bench and took my now half empty glass with me. my feet had to suddenly halt to a stop to avoid collision with a body before me, forcing me to to gaze upwards.
an arrangement of multicolored foliage caught my attention, hiding the figure holding it with its sheer proportion. delicate layers of fuchsia, coral, evergreen and ivory colored petals complemented one another in harmony. the fuchsia-colored hibiscus flowers caught my attention first, then the ivory-coral orchids. filled with cascading wisteria plants and evergreen calla lilies, i was enamored by the overall composition of the bouquet.
gradually, the bouquet lowered downward, then revealed the figure behind it.
there beau stood in an adorably bashful manner. a delicate giggle fell from my mouth and in return, he grinned brightly, the kind that made you forget whatever had weighed on you a heartbeat before.
beau‘s smile softened, his head tilting slightly as he studied me, „i‘m sorry i‘m late.“ he teased with a gentle rugged tone, „i had to run an errand.“ he concluded.
a delicate flutter moved through my chest, my heart betraying me as it softened at the sheer sweetness of his words and the excitement of finally being in one another’s presence.
„hey, angel.“ beau murmured. then he closed the distance between our bodies with a single step, glancing down at me with his bashful grin. his fingers of his free hand lightly caught the belt loop of my skirt, a playful little tug bringing me just a little closer while his tongue briefly traced his lips.
i laughed fondly, breaking the hypnotic trance that is beau maxwell, „hi, beau.“ i whisper back with a natural ease, though, this sort of felt like an outer-bodily-experience, for my words seemed to disappear somewhere between my thoughts and my mouth. a small, quiet solace bloomed in the warmth of recognition between us.
beau‘s head tilted slightly as he studied me, „are you disappointed?“ he teased with a gentle rugged tone. his fingers fiddled with my skirt, eliciting excited jolts of goosebumps through my body. his cologne, cedar and old-spice i believed, engulfed me and was adding to his hypnotic charm even more.
„don’t worry, beau. you’re a pretty nice sight.“ i respond jokingly, though truthful.
beau looked undoubtably more handsome directly than i’d imagined. those passing glimpses i had gotten from him around campus and our daily calls didn’t do him any justice. my pulse hammered so violently against my ribs that i was certain he could hear the chaos he was causing in me.
he raises an eyebrow while trying, and failing, to conceal his evergrowing smirk, „pretty, you say?“
“don‘t make me repeat it.”
“i‘m just making sure i heard you correctly.” his voice carried that familiar teasing edge i had gotten accustomed to through late-night conversations and endless messages, except now here he was, standing before me, oh so dangerously handsome.
“you did.”
for a moment, neither of us moved. the lukewarm breezy breathed softly around us, while the first crickets started their steady, rhythmic hum in the shadows of the evening.
a slow grin spread across his face, the kind that looked like he was trying very hard not to seem as pleased as he actually was. but by now, i knew beau maxwell pretty well.
“oh, angel.” he shook his brown waves, „you know how to make a man weak. i‘ll be thinking about that all night,” he added, the smug grin on his face growing as he let out a quiet, amused groan.
i couldn’t help but laugh, fully infatuated by his antics. the teasing eventually faded into a comfortable quiet, the kind that no longer felt unfamiliar. beaus fingers unraveled from my skirt and slid along my hip until he reached my palm. the touch lingered, tender and uncertain, offering me the freedom to retreat if i wished. our fingers intertwined without thought, as if they had already known the shape of one another.
which was ridiculous, because they hadn’t. not until now.
“these are for you.”
i looked at our intertwined fingers as if taking in the weight of the moment, then gazed to his occupied hand. a soft, involuntary hum vibrated in my throat as the scent of the fresh petals washed over me. my eyelids fluttered shut for a brief, dizzying second, my whole body sinking into a profound, heavy weightlessness. when i opened them, my vision blurred slightly at the edges, entirely locked onto him, while a genuine, unprompted ache of sweetness expanded behind my ribs, making my hands cradle the bouquet against my chest like something sacred.
beau looked back at me with quiet devotion, a small smile gathering at the edges of his expression. he didn't say a word, but his gaze dropped to the base of my throat, locking onto the rapid, telltale flutter of my pulse. under the weight of his observation, my fingers trembled against the magenta-pink paper wrapping.
his empty hands found my hips, fingers digging softly through the fabric of my clothes as he gathered me against him. the sudden, solid warmth of his chest pressed against mine, erasing the remaining air between us. automatically, my free hand flattened against his chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart beneath the fabric.
before i could catch my breath, his right hand slid upward, palm tracing the curve of my neck until his fingers cupped my jaw. the world narrowed down to the steady beat of his heart under my palms as he tilted my face just enough to press his lips lingeringly, against my forehead.
"say something," beau murmured, his thumb slightly tracing my lips, „because if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not going to let you step away."
my heart did a violent flip, palm now resting on the back of his neck, slightly caressing his skin. "what if i don’t want you to?" i whispered, my voice laced with a sudden, breathless heat.
beau didn't blink, his grip at my waist anchoring me flush against him. amber twilight washed over us, melting the sharp edges of the shadows until the only real thing left in existence was the solid, radiating heat passing between our chests.
„good,“ beau rasps, „because i plan on keeping you for a long time."
Omg I just realized u write for the off campus boys!!! Could I request a beau maxwell x reader where she’s super inexperienced and he teaches her everything she needs to know abt sex( like dif positions like doggy, riding, and giving head)!
Patient Hands
pairing: Beau Maxwell x inexperienced!reader
description: Beau offers to teach you everything you need to know about sex.
TW: Smut, MDNI, praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, established relationship.
masterlist
The bedroom feels too warm, or maybe that's just your nerves. Beau's sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and smiling softly as you hover near the doorway, fingers twisting in the hem of your oversized sweater.
"You don't have to be nervous," he says, patting the space beside him. "We'll go as slow as you need."
You cross the room slowly, settling next to him with your hands in your lap. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest.
"What if I'm terrible at it?" you whisper.
"There's no terrible," Beau murmurs into your hair. "Just learning. And I'm a very patient teacher."
His lips find yours, gentle and unhurried, before he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip until you open for him. When his hand slides under your sweater, you shiver at the contact against your bare skin.
His hand is warm against your ribs, his thumb stroking circles on your skin as his kiss deepens. You're lost in the sensation, the way his tongue explores your mouth with confident, unhurried strokes. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing a little heavier.
"You're doing so good for me already," Beau murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. His eyes are dark, fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. "I want to teach you everything you need to know. If you'll let me."
You nod, unable to form words as his hand trails down your side, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I want to feel that pretty mouth on me," he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Will you let me teach you how?"
Your heart pounds against your ribs, but you find yourself nodding again. "Yes," you manage, your voice barely audible.
"Good girl." He shifts, leaning back against the headboard and gesturing for you to move between his legs. "Come here."
You comply, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. Your hands tremble slightly as you help him undress.
"Easy," Beau says, covering your hand with his. "No rush. Take your time."
His cock lays hard and thick against his stomach and your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him, the velvety skin, the prominent vein running along the underside and the bead of moisture glistening at the tip.
"It's okay," Beau says softly, noticing your hesitation. "You can touch it."
Your fingers brush against him tentatively and he hisses softly. "That's it. Wrap your hand around the base."
You do as he says and he feels impossibly hard beneath your palm, the skin smooth and warm against you.
"Good," he praises, his voice husky and strained. "Now, just explore a little. Get to know what I like."
You stroke him experimentally, watching as his hips shift slightly. "Like this?"
"Fuck, yes," he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. "Just like that. Twist your wrist a little at the top. God, that's perfect."
You follow his instructions, your confidence growing with each sound he makes.
"Look at you," he breathes, his eyes dark with desire. "You're already driving me crazy. Now… I want you to taste me. Just a little lick at first."
Leaning in, you dart your tongue out, swiping it across the tip. He tastes salty and clean and a soft moan escapes his lips. Beau's hand comes to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.
"That's it," he encourages. "Again. Lick all around the head. Fuck, yeah, just like that. Get it nice and wet for me."
You obey, tracing the ridge with your tongue before swirling it around the tip. Beau's breathing grows heavier, his grip on your hair tightening slightly.
"Open up," he directs, his voice thick with need. "Let me feel that pretty mouth on me."
You do as he says, your mouth stretching to accommodate him. The weight of him on your tongue is intoxicating.
"Fuck, that's good," he groans. "Now suck. Just like that, baby. Use that tongue."
You apply gentle suction, swirling your tongue around him as he requested and Beau's hips jerk forward. "That's it, just like that. Your mouth feels incredible."
For the next few minutes, he guides you through it, praising every movement. You grow bolder with his encouragement, taking him a little deeper with each bob of your head.
When you start using your hand too, stroking what you can't fit in your mouth, he really loses it.
"Baby," he gasps. "That feels so fucking good."
You pull back slightly, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, his voice ragged. "You're doing so good, baby."
You dive back in with renewed enthusiasm, letting drool pool at the corners of your mouth as you take him deeper. The sounds you're making, the wet, sloppy sucking noises, would normally embarrass you if you weren't so turned on.
"Look at me," he commands and you meet his eyes as you continue to work him with your mouth and hand. "Fuck, that's hot. Your eyes are all glassy. You love this, don't you? Love having my cock in your mouth."
You moan around him, the vibration making his hips buck.
"God, I'm not going to last much longer if you keep doing that," he warns.
You try taking him a little deeper and he hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly, pulling back with tears in your eyes.
"Easy," Beau soothes, his thumb wiping away the moisture. "You don't have to go that deep. Just what you're comfortable with."
But you're determined to try again, this time relaxing your throat as you take him deeper. When you succeed, he lets out a needy whimper that goes straight to your core.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his hips thrusting more insistently now. "Your mouth is heaven. I knew it would be. I knew you'd be perfect at this."
His praises become more frequent, more breathless. "God, look at the mess you're making. So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. All mine."
When his hips begin to thrust more insistently, his breathing growing ragged, he suddenly stills. "Stop," he says, his voice tight.
You pull back immediately, worried you've done something wrong. "Did I...?"
"No," he cuts in, pulling you up to kiss you deeply. "You were perfect. Too perfect. I don't want to finish like that."
His hands slide down your body, pushing you onto your back as he hovers over you. "Now it's my turn to make you feel good."
His lips trail down your neck, across your collarbones, stopping at the hem of your sweater. "Can I take this off?"
You nod, lifting your arms so he can pull it over your head. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you in just your bra.
"So beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through the fabric. "I've been thinking about this all day."
He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth. You arch against him, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his tongue circles the sensitive peak.
"Beau," you breathe, your hands tangling in his hair.
He chuckles against your skin. "Patience, baby. I'm just getting started."
His mouth continues its downward journey, leaving a trail of kisses across your stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your leggings, he looks up at you, his eyes questioning.
"Is this okay?"
You nod eagerly. "Yes. Please."
With a wicked grin, he makes quick work of your leggings and panties, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. His eyes roam over your body, dark with desire.
"Perfect," he murmurs, before settling between your thighs. "Now just relax and let me take care of you."
His first touch is feather-light, his fingers tracing your folds gently. You gasp at the contact, your hips rising to meet him.
"So responsive," he praises, his thumb finding your clit. "And so wet for me already."
He circles the sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, watching your face as pleasure builds within you. "Does that feel good?"
"God, yes," you moan, your head falling back against the pillows.
"Good." His fingers continue their ministrations as he lowers his head, his tongue replacing his thumb. His wet, hot mouth feels amazing against your feverish skin, and you cry out as his mouth works you with expert precision.
"Beau," you gasp, your hands finding his hair again. "Please."
"Please what, baby?" he asks, looking up at you from between your thighs.
"I don't know," you admit honestly. "More. Please, I need more."
"Anything you want," he promises, before returning his attention to your clit. As his tongue works its magic, he slides one finger inside you, then two, curling them to find that spot that makes you see stars.
"You're so tight," he murmurs against you. "So perfect. I can't wait to be inside you."
His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, stretching you gently. "I'm going to add another finger now," he warns. "Just to get you ready for me. Tell me if it's too much."
You nod, bracing yourself as a third finger joins the others. The stretch is noticeable but not painful, especially with the distraction of his mouth on your clit.
"That's it," he praises. "Taking me so well. Almost ready for my cock."
Your hips rise to meet his hand, seeking more friction. "Beau," you gasp. "I think… I'm close."
Instead of pushing you over the edge, he suddenly pulls back, leaving you hovering on the brink of release.
"Why'd you stop?" you ask, your voice breathless with frustration.
He grins up at you, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Because I'm not done with you yet." He moves to hover over you, positioning himself at your entrance. "I want to be inside you when you come for the first time tonight."
His cock presses against you, thick and hard. "Are you ready for me, baby?"
You nod, your heart pounding with anticipation. "Yes."
"Good girl," he murmurs, before slowly pushing inside you. The stretch is intense, a delicious burn as he fills you inch by inch. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he seats himself fully inside you.
"God, you're tight," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "Feel that? Feel how perfectly you're taking me?"
You can only nod, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so completely full. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, his thumb stroking your cheek.
"You feel incredible," he whispers, before beginning to move slowly. Each thrust is measured, deep, hitting places inside you that you didn't know existed. "So good for me. Taking my cock so well."
His pace is unhurried, almost lazy, as if he has all the time in the world to explore your body. You meet his movements tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as pleasure builds within you.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice husky. "You like how I fill you up?"
"God, yes," you moan, arching against him.
"Good," he says, suddenly stilling. "Because I want to try something else. I want to watch you ride me."
Before you can protest, he's pulling out, guiding you to straddle him.
"Just take your time," he says, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Sink down at your own pace."
You lower yourself slowly, gasping as he stretches you open again. The angle is different, deeper, and you can feel every ridge and vein of him as you take him in.
"That's it," he encourages, his hands on your hips. "Just like that. Fuck, look at you taking me so well."
Once he's fully inside you, you pause, overwhelmed by the fullness. "God, Beau," you breathe.
"I know, baby," he says, his thumbs stroking your hips. "Now try moving. Just rock your hips a little."
You follow his guidance, experimenting with small movements. The friction is delicious and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.
"That's it," he praises. "Now try lifting up and down. Just a little at first."
You rise up slightly before sinking back down, the sensation even more intense from this angle. "Good girl," he groans. "Again. A little higher this time."
You continue to move, finding a rhythm that works for you. Beau's hands guide you, his praise a constant stream of encouragement. "Just like that, baby. You're doing so good. Ride my cock. Fuck, you look so beautiful like this."
As you grow more confident, your movements become bolder. You rise higher, sink down harder, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. "That's it," he encourages. "Take what you need. Use me to make yourself feel good."
The sounds of skin slapping against skin, your breathy moans and Beau's guttural groans fill the room. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your movements becoming more erratic as your thighs begin to tremble with exertion. The rhythm you've set is faltering, each bounce becoming less controlled than the last.
"I'm close," you gasp, your voice strained as you struggle to maintain the pace. "But I can't..."
"I know, baby," he says, his hands firm on your hips, sensing your growing fatigue. "Let me take over."
In one smooth motion, he flips you onto your hands and knees, entering you from behind. "God, this view," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to thrust. "You have no idea how good you look like this."
His pace is measured but deep, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you. "You like this?" he asks, his voice husky. "You like me taking you from behind like this?"
"God, yes," you moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
"Good girl," he praises, one hand sliding around to rub your clit. "I want to feel you come on my cock. Let go for me, baby."
His words, combined with the stimulation, push you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.
"That's it," Beau groans, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me. Fuck, I'm going to fill you up."
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his release hot against your inner walls as he pulses with his own orgasm.
He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. "You were incredible," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Absolutely incredible."
husband!dean with the same high sex drive he’s had since college but having to tone it down because he has kids running around everywhere
DANGEROUSLY IN LOVE
fluff / smutty | not proof read lol | i'm so sorry this short & shit, written this at 3am 😭 | I NEED THIS WITH HIM, I NEED THIS WITH HIM, I NEED THIS WITH HIM, I NEED THIS WITH HIM | camellinia's pin
i can imagine… dean has been even more unbelievable after having kids with a sex drive like his. he does attempt to feel you up at given moment when he can.
majority of nights and days consist of, lazily humping each other in the middle of the night, dean feeling you up from behind when you're cooking in the kitchen, locking the bedroom doors at night to dean frantically dropping off the kids at hannah's and garrett's door with a note because they're free all week to babysit so you guys can...
you do have an inside joke with how much hornier he's been since the kids, you genuinely thought he was ovulating as some point...
but it became hell, whenever it was date night or you simply got ready for the day. slipping on the dress? he's slooooowly slipping it off, eating dinner with him? his mind is in the gutter, walking in front of him? he wants to bend you over so badly.
there's definitely been multiple times where he's told the kids off to not come into the room or leave you guys alone, but you're always swatting him with, "dean, pull yourself together!" while you laughed at him!
request . grovelling rafe when you want to break up with him after realising he killed peterkin
authors note: lost the original draft which is why it isn’t as good as it would’ve been 😔 just my luck . anyways someone tell me this is good cause it’s lowkey ass
if there was one thing kie ever made sure to tell you about being with rafe, it was that you were to be real fucking careful.
“look,” she’d said as she gripped you by the shoulders, both of you sitting on her bed. “my whole friend group is terrified of rafe. except JJ,” she smiled wistfully at the mention of her boyfriend but then gripped you harder, “always be with someone whenever you’re with him. he’s insane.”
nonetheless, you ignored her advice despite the amount of convincing pope & even sarah , his own sister, tried to persuade you.
“trust me,” sarah had said, “you don’t even half know the shit he’s done.” she exchanged a look then with john b but said nothing else.
“he’s beat me up for walking past his fucking golf course.” pope agreed. “he’s just crazy.”
it didn’t matter. rafe was good to you. yeah, sometime he was insane, but he treated you well and took care of you.
you never mentioned any of the pogues comments to him, just because they were all meaningless. there were times when you was curled up beside him and he would kiss your forehead, & you would wonder if it really was the same boy that the pogues despised. the same one who had hurt pope and choked sarah.
but then that viewpoint changed real quick.
you had come to surprise rafe since you’d come back from a trip early. the door to his house was open as you walked in, scanning the living room then kitchen for him, when you heard ward shouting.
“you screwed us, rafe!” you heard him shouting. “you did not have to do that!”
“i did it for you!” you heard rafe yell back. you winced at loud he was, how his voice echoed in your ears. “someone had to die for us to be safe.”
“really.” ward hissed, “well, well done son. you chose to kill sheriff peterkin! and look how safe we are now!”
you accidentally dropped your keys in shock. you didn’t hear how silent they went when they both saw you, not ward expressing an angry grunt as he saw you before saying to rafe, “fix that up too” before leaving.
your eyes were brimming with tears as you stepped back, shaking your head. the humiliation & embarrassment but most of all fear. for not believing the pogues even after they had quite literally stated the violence rafe had done & been capable of. for not believing your sister over a boy you clearly didn’t know. and for the man who had treated you so gently to kill someone, take a life?
“baby..” rafe said, taking a step closer to you. his face tightened when you immediately backed away.
“you killed the sheriff?”
“let me -”
“you fucking killed her?” you screeched. rafe winced, turning and running a hand through your hair. “i was so pathetic, defending you to everyone and you didn’t even tell me?”
“i know.” his fists clenched. “i know, and im so grateful for that and i wanted to.”
“no you didn’t.”
“look.” he said your name, an attempt for peace, “just sit down and we - we can talk about it.”
you scoffed, wiping angrily at the tears on your face. “there’s nothing to talk about, rafe. we’re over.”
“no.” he snapped immediately, panic making his voice break. he quickly softened it as he stepped forward slowly, “no, cmon baby don’t pull that shit with me, no we’re not.”
you didn’t answer, turning to each for the door, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to face him. rafe was kneeling infront of you, hands hovering over your stomach as he rested his head there too. “don’t - don’t leave me. i can’t survive it if you do.”
“rafe -“”
“don’t cry. don’t - look. i - i know i messed up, big time, but ill fix it. I’ll do anything. just don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.”
“let me go.” you said, trying to push his hands off, which he instead interlinked your fingers, his hands still soft, as he used his thumbs to wipe your tears away.
“don’t cry. just let me explain, baby.” when you shook your head, he persisted anyways, “look, someone had to die there, otherwise me and dad were gonna get thrown into jail. would you rather i was - was dead? no?” when you shook your head, he held out your hands and kissed them, one by one, on each finger, anywhere he could reach. “yeah, so it’s - it’s not that bad, right? it’s not..”
“you killed her. you just took a life, rafe!”
he was crying too now, as he flinched, “i had to. i had to, baby, can’t you understand that? just forgive me.”
“stop manipulating me.”
“im losing and ruining everything and i cant lose you too. i - i know i messed up, but i love you so much.” he pulled you flush against him by the waist as he kissed your forehead, nose, cheek, neck, all skin exposed. “i didnt mean to, i was just so scared.”
“rafe, stop.”
“don’t look at me like you hate me, okay? ill fix it, ill fix it all for you, i promise. just forgive me this once.”
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t know what to even do. but by the time rafe wrapped his arms around your waist and cried into your neck, you knew you already have forgiven him.
hi!! i've been seeing the funny prank of feeding ur best friend's girlfriend in front of the bestie and its so cute.... would u write one with beau as the bf and dean as the pranker? reader and dean prank beau w that and its funny because he gets jealous and territorial ofc 🤣 thanks !! <3
feed me - beau maxwell x reader
author’s note: mkay i think we needed a funny fluffy jokey stroy from the heartbreak i caused HAHAHA MY BAD thank you anon, love you so much MWUAAHHH🩷🩷
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Beau furrows his eyebrows as soon as he steps into the apartment, smelling the fresh scent of the herbs.
“What can I say?” Dean shrugs, acting nonchalant. “I’m special like that.”
“Okay, whipping up a pasta dish is nothing special,” you laugh out loud while taking off your shoes at the door and walk to the kitchen where currently Dean tries to make a quick dinner.
“C’mere and dare to say a bad word about my grandma's recipe,” Dean smirks, because he’s full of shit and all the way in pranking your boyfriend, Beau.
You’re such a menace, but seeing Beau all protective and jealous does something to your ovaries.
Maybe it’s more for your entertainment and hot, filthy bedroom activity.
You sauntered over to the blown up kitchen - because let's be honest, Dean really doesn't know how to keep clean - and took the wooden spoon he offered to taste the sauce.
You’re not even making eye contact with him, only licking the spoon, but even from the corner of your eye you see Beau straighten a bit.
“It’s not even half bad,” you tell Dean, and turn to Beau, “Wanna taste it?”
“I’m good,” he declines, but his eyes remain strictly on the spoon and the way Dean leans a little bit closer to you.
“C’mon man, you heard the lady,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, “taste it.”
“I’ll pass.”
Dean shrugs and turns his attention back to the task at hand, but his green eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Wanna help me?”
“Hell no. You look too good in that apron,” your laugh carries you to Beau, who stands on the other side of the kitchen, his veiny forearms holding his weight up on the kitchen table. His eyes are set on Dean’s head, his jaw locked, but a smooth brush from you immediately makes him melt.
“He doesn’t look that good in that apron,” he mutters, a little grimace at the corner of his mouth twitches.
“You’re my eye candy, Bunny,” you whisper in his ear and slap his ass.
—-
“Honestly at this point I don’t even know what coach wants from us,” Beau told Dean about his practice schedule and how Deluca’s devastated by the team's performance. “He got it in his mind that we’re not motivated enough, so before every game, he makes us watch some podcasts about dedication and commitment to get us in the mood.”
Dean snorts. “And how did that turn out?”
“It’s got to the point that we’re quoting praises during showers.”
Dean barked out a laugh, shaking his head.
“Wait, like Kris Jenner’s ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie!’?” You looked back over your shoulder at your boyfriend, a grin tugging at your lips.
“Exactly like that,” Beau said, though his laugh didn't quite reach his eyes this time.
His eyes narrowed slightly as Dean leaned down, resting his cheek briefly against your hair to let you taste the wooden spoon he was holding. “Does this need more salt?” He asked softly, his hand lingering just an inch from your waist as he slowly stirred the red sauce bubbling in the pan.
You leaned in, taking a small bite. “Maybe a little more. And oregano.”
“Got it.” Dean reached past you for the spice rack, his arm brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt entirely too comfortable. He shook it a bit more, gave it a quick stir, and brought the spoon back up to your lips. “Better now?”
You tasted it again and smiled. “Yeah. Perfect.”
Beau’s eyes darkened. A knot tightened in his chest as he watched the two of you. He clamped his jaw shut, forcing his hands into his pockets so neither of you could see them clenching into fists.
—-
At the table, once Dean got the place dirty enough, you sat next to Beau, Dean in front of you two.
“Why did you eat it with bread?” You ask as you saw Dean swirling the pasta up on the fork, while his other hand holds a piece of bread.
“Because bread picks up the sauce the pasta can’t. It’s even better with bread,” he informed you with a full mouth. Beau chuckles and shakes his head, his free hand resting on your thigh, his thumb slowly brushing circles on your jeans. You might think his touch was a bit possessive, considering his fingertips whitened slightly due to the pressure he applied, you bit your cheek to keep you from laughing.
And you may regret this prank later, but oh well. Anything to get Beau riled up.
“Bullshit.”
“Try it,” Dean said, tearing off a piece of bread, scooping up a rich bite of sauce, and reaching across the table to feed you.
“Hmm,” you hum as you take the bite, chewing and swallowing the piece of bread, as you see from the corner of your eye that Beau sits up straighter, his fork stops midair and his fingers bite into your tight harder.
“So?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows.
“It’s good,” you smiled, but it got the hint of your mischief. “Can I take another bite?”
“Okay what the actual fuck is going on,” Beau asks, the fork basically thrown from his hand, clattering against the plate. His wild eyes lower to Dean, his jaw tight. “Why the fuck are you feeding my girl in front of me?”
“It’s just food,” Dean shrugs, acting nonchalant, but the corner of his lips lift in a smirk,” You’re saying you won’t feed me?” Then he pouts.
Actually pouts.
“Hell nah I won’t!” Your boyfriend shakes his head aggressively. “And you shouldn’t feed my girl, jackass!”
You can’t help. You actually bark out a laugh so loud, both of them look at you bewildered.
“You think this is funny? Beau squints his eyes at you.
“I think you’re very funny when you’re jealous,” you nod in agreement.
“Nothing’s funny about that!” His voice goes up an octave, and you bite your lip, desperate to laugh again.
“So you wouldn’t feed Dean?”
“Why would I fucking feed him? Honestly, what? Are you both on something?” He shoots a look towards Dean, “Did you drug my girlfriend?”
“You really think that low of me?” Dean mocks absolute shock, clutching his chest dramatically.
He recovers fast, though, because he continues, “Besides, it’s her that’s on drugs. Constantly.”
“What?” Beau looks so lost, you laugh again.
“It was just a prank,” you admit through giggles.
Beau blinks at you, face empty. “What?” He repeated.
“I asked Dean to help me prank you,” you explain, “I saw it somewhere and wanted to do it,” you bite your lip again.
“It was all her,” Dean points at you.
“And you were all in,” you point back.
“Why is it always me, God?” Beau looks up at the ceiling, sighing so loud. “Why is it me who must suffer from all these nonsense pranks? Why is my girlfriend this way?”
“Hey!” You swat at his chest, “You love me!”
“And I'll handle all your shenanigans,” he kisses your cheek.
However, later, once you’re outside Dean’s apartment, he slaps your ass and squeezes it so hard, you can’t help but groan as he says, “But pull a stunt like that one more time, and I’ll show you just how jealous I can be.”
awkward first encounter with fire fighter!rafe x florist!reader
firefighter!rafe who sees you for the first time while he’s late as hell for work, walking past the flower shop while he catches your face in the window. while he’s taking a passive look by, he nearly trips over his shoe laces to get a second glance.
fuck work, they can wait. when he enters the shop, he sees you blink for a second & reflexively he does too.
is there something on his face? was it his breakfast he had earlier? is it the shoe laces? the uniform? did he not shave this morning like he thought he did? does he smell -
“hi,” you both say at the same time. you realise that it’s just you two in the shop. “can i help you?” you add.
rafe swallows, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “uh - yeah.” when you wait for him to continue, he adds weakly, embarrassed, “flowers?”
“take your pick.” you gesture to the flowers around you.
he gets the ones that he remembers that everyone else gets: lillies and orchids because he doesn’t really know any other flowers, but takes longer than usual so he can look at you longer. after some time he pays, swiping his card, as you wrap them for him (though it’s not necessary).
you can’t help but ogle him. respectfully, of course. he’s taller than you but in a way that wouldn’t make you two look like giant & human. he’s very well built but he also looks kind, not intimidating or cruel. and bonus, you can tell he’s the same age as you, if not older by max four years.
in summary? perfect
“who’s the lucky woman?” you ask, disguising your interest as small talk. there’s no way he doesn’t have a girlfriend, right?
rafe shakes his head, smiling. “it’s for the boys.”
“oh.” you turn red, “you’re gay?”
the tips of his ears turn pink. “no, i mean for the uh, firefighters. im a firefighter.” he adds weakly. “it’s for my colleagues.”
gosh, have you never wanted to crawl into a hole and die until now. “im so sorry for the assumption.” you hold the flowers out to him, a weak attempt to cover your face, but warm steady fingers brush yours accompanied with a soft, “don’t worry bout it, sweetheart.”
as soon as rafe leaves, he smacks his face with the flowers and lets out a groan while you sigh heavily, both of you unaware of the affect you have on each other. anyways! you make sure to keep those same flowers in stock.
You've been fucking stringing along JJ Maybank and his best friend Dean Di Laurentis for way too long and they've had enough, cornering you on the beach one night and demanding you choose between them. But...what if you want both?
p in v sex, oral m!receiving, fingering to plug up reader, literally self indulgent because i wanted it
pure filth, ty to @railingsofsorrow for the idea
My breathing picked up as I walked down the trail, seeing JJ waiting for me instead of Dean. Shit. I'd seen Dean's BMW in the lot, assuming he'd be alone since he texted me to come here.
"Fuck." I mutter, debating booking it back and seeing how far I got before either one of them caught me. Dean wasn't the fastest, he was more muscular. but JJ, while still a bit muscular, had been running everyday since he was a kid.
"We need to talk." JJ said as soon as I got on the sand, Dean's head jerking to look at me from where he'd been crouching and poking at the sand.
"..About what?" I ask, feigning nonchalance.
"You're fucking both of us." Dean said, standing up.
"Regularly." JJ said, tonguing his cheek.
"Whattt, no.." I trail off when they both raise their brows. They weren't related, not by blood, but everyone always immediately asked due to how alike they were. I sigh. "Okay, yeah. You can't blame me though."
"What the fuck?" JJ scoffed.
"Who else?" Dean asked.
"No one else, it was just you. You two." I winced.
"Well, it was 'just me' before, and now it's just me and Dean, so how are we supposed to believe you?" JJ asked.
"I dunno..." I say, looking down.
"Look—we're not—" Dean sighed. "We're not like...angry. We're a little pissed, sure, but at least the other guy isn't like..."
"Rafe?" JJ supplies. Dean nods.
"That would be worse."
"So...what? Are you here to ask me to stop?" I ask.
"No, we're asking you to choose. You can't just flip flop around and not tell us." Dean says,
"I was sleeping with both of you, not dating." I scoff.
"I thought we were! Not dating, but exclusive!" JJ says.
"That's not fair at all, you never asked me for that."
"I—fine, okay, I never asked you. God forbid I fucking assume after six months."
"I never asked either of you to only sleep with me!" I say.
"We know that, but you also didn't exactly tell us you were sleeping with other people—or just one other person." Dean says.
"I didn't think it was a huge deal."
"That you were fucking my best friend behind my back?" Dean asks.
"It wasn't behind your back!"
"You didn't exactly tell us either!" JJ yells.
"I didn't think I needed to!"
"You know what—just choose. I'm tired of this bullshit. Either choose or we both walk." JJ exclaims.
"You're both unbelievable! Making me choose what fuck I want more?" I ask, scoffing is disbelief.
"Fine, then we'll decide. We're out." Dean says, him and JJ already starting to walk back up the pathway.
"Fine—" I exclaim. "Fine. Fuck you. Both." They arched their brows at me as it came out a bit more as 'fuck you both' and not how I'd intended.
"Not exactly an answer." JJ says drily.
"I choose both."
Dean scoffed. "That wasn't an option."
"You're rejecting it?" I raise an eyebrow.
"We—" He glances at JJ, the two sharing a look before their eyes shoot back to me.
"Exclusively, or in 'just a fuck' way?" JJ asks.
"If you want to be clingy, fine, exclusive." I say, crossing my arms.
"You're insufferable, sweetheart." Dean says after a few seconds.
.
The ride back to my place was tense, I did fortunately/unfortunately know what was waiting for me as soon as we were inside. I also knew that both of them were aware that my family was out of town for the next week, and that the house empty...
I swallowed, the music loud yet somehow making the car even more silent. I pressed my thighs together in the backseat of Dean's car, seeing JJ clock the movement in the rear view mirror, his eyes hungry.
"Don't do that." He said, his voice a low rasp.
"Can't help it." I said as Dean finally pulled into my long driveway. The car wasn't even fully stopped before I jumped out and raced inside, laughing giddily as JJ jumped out right behind me, both of us hearing Dean yell out in protest as he parked and shut off the car.
I ran up the front steps and flung open the front door, racing up the stairwell to my room and trying to shut the door behind me, JJ holding it and running in after me, smiling as I collapsed onto my bed, panting.
"Quite the move." He said, breathless as he crawled over me, both of us still panting as we kissed, his hands running through my hair, not caring if he tangled it.
"You're both—" huff, "way too—" huff, "fucking fast." Dean panted in the doorway. He was an athlete sure, but running out of nowhere without warming up would make anyone a little out of breath, especially after three separate flights of stairs. The stairwell to the second floor was two stories of stairs.
I supposed I could've used the elevator but making out already breathless was hotter. JJ moved to the side letting Dean pull me up by my shirt, slotting our lips together hungrily, making me moan.
JJ slid his shirt off, pants and boots following until he was just in his boxers. Dean pulled away and I finally caught my breath as he started stripping.
"Some foreplay." I roll my eyes sarcastically.
"I think the foreplay was you wanting to fuck both of us at the same time, and admitting it." JJ said, dipping his hand under my skirt and beneath my panties, feeling how wet I was and nodding, his eyes meeting mine. "Looks like I was right."
I swat away his hand. "You're annoying."
"And you're about to fuck me, so what's that say about you?"
"I've fucked you before."
"Even worse."
I rolled my eyes again. "How's this even supposed to work? Neither of you are going anywhere near my ass."
Both of them snorted.
"Relax. We'll be content with one of us fucking you and you sucking the other off. Next time, we'll switch."
"Oh, you'll be content, will you?" I muse.
"Are you rejecting the notion?" Dean asked, running a hand through his hair, already pumping his cock.
"Nope." I say. "Who's first?"
"Lay back." JJ said, sliding between my legs when I listened. Dean moved to sit next to me on the bed, winking when I turned my head. I took off my shirt, reaching for my bra, purple lace, when JJ hummed.
"Keep it on." He said, sliding my skirt and panties off, spreading my legs.
"Open," Dean said, tapping my cheek with the head of his cock. I opened, looking up at him as I licked the tip, swirling my tongue around the head. He sighed, hand cupping the side of my head. JJ tapped his cock against my cunt, hitting my clit each tap, making me jump.
"Jay, fuck." I sigh, moaning as he slowly pushed inside. He fooled me until halfway when he pushed the rest of the way in with one hard thrust. I moaned loudly, choking slightly when Dean pushes his cock into my mouth. My eyes watered, rolling back with the dual sensations. JJ reached down to pinch at my clit as he started to thrust in and out of me, Dean gently using his hand on my head to thrust in and out of my mouth.
The two of them synched up, never leaving my body without a cock inside, one pulled out, the other pushed in, vice versa. JJ angled his hips, hitting my g-spot each thrust, which made me whine around Dean's cock, which in turn made him groan.
JJ pushed my legs to my chest, starting to plow into me. I felt bad for Dean, he'd definitely gotten the short end as the only thing I was doing now was crying in pleasure with his rock hard cock in my mouth. I tried to suck but I was so into what JJ was giving me, I wasn't sure how well it was coming across.
"Where—where am I cumming, baby?" JJ pants.
"In." I moan, making him mutter a 'fuck,' before doing just that. He pushes in to the hilt, shooting so deep inside that I feel it in my ribs. Dean thrusts slowly into my mouth until JJ pulls out. I pull away from Dean's cock.
"Fuck me." He arches a brow but moves down once JJ moves to lay next to me, pulling me into a sensual kiss.
"Shit, sweetheart." Dean mutter as he pushes in, my swollen cunt tight around his cock after being so thoroughly used.
I moaned into JJ's mouth as Dean started thrusting. His thrusts were less spasmic than JJ's, more precise though, slow and deep. We'd been so close already that once Dean's fingers find my clit, my hips are bucking up as my orgasm hits. He lifts my hips just before he cums, his release mixing with JJ's. He pulls out a minute after, JJ pulling back too, the two of them looking at their handiwork pooling out of me.
"You're both disgusting." I say, raising my hands to my face in faux disdain.
"Says the one with two loads leaking out of her pussy. Maybe, you should be more grateful, you're wasting." JJ said, shoving two fingers into my cunt, pushing their cum back inside.
"Fuck—!" I whine, legs pressing tightly together, getting a swat on the thigh from JJ.
"Keep 'em spread." He said, spreading them for me again.
"Yeah..." Dean sighed, he and JJ sharing yet another silent look before JJ settled back between my legs.
One thing ran through my mind as JJ pushed himself back inside of me, my cunt squelching around him.
warnings: smut, oral (m!receiving), semi-public (in the car), spitting in mouth, Dean begging, swearing, use of pet names
summary: in which Boyfriend!Dean does reformer pilates with you in exchange for whatever he wants…
wc: 1445
a/n: not proof read, please bear with me. had get it sexyy on LOOP while writing this.
“And hold! Five… Four… Almost there!”
The best part of doing pilates with Dean was when the instructors started counting tortuously slow.
And you swore Dean was so close to losing his shit. His right forearm was laid against the reformer platform, left leg stacked on his right as he balanced himself through a side plank.
“Baby,” he huffed, “I swear this is a form of BDSM.”
Since you did the opposite side of the movement, you could see him as he spoke. Sweat beading on his forehead, trailing down his neck and to the arm laid on the platform.
You wanted to lick it all up.
“All that muscle and you can’t even keep up?” you teased.
He gave you a pointed look and you knew you were in for it at the end of the session.
“And we are done!” the instructor boomed over the speakers, breaking your train of thought.
Dean sagged onto the reformer carriage, lying on his back, gazing at the roof. He turned his head toward you and gave you a crooked grin, “You hungry, baby?”
You were grabbing two sanitised wipes for each of your reformers before your response came, “Ugh. I could go for Mexican right now.”
He only let out an amused huff as if you missed something. You thought nothing of it.
Once you two had finished cleaning your respective stations, you made way to the reception, grabbing your belongings on the way. You thanked the instructor for the session, mama raised a polite girl, and walked out the building towards Dean’s black BMW.
Dean held your door open before saying, “Let’s get you fed, hm?”
Getting comfortable in the black leather interior of Dean’s car, you pulled the sun visor down to reapply your lippiy.
Dean pulled his door open, got into his seat and sat there as he watched you adoringly.
In the confined space you share together, his smell finally hit you. You think you’d be used to it after all his hockey matches, but nothing ever beats the smell of Dean after a hard workout.
You realised the car hasn’t started yet, and glanced at him. “What’s up-”
You didn’t feel the air shift in the small space you share as Dean crashed his lips onto yours.
The slow and soft kisses you two had shared this morning before you left for pilates was nothing compared to what he’s giving you now.
He was absolutely overwhelming, and not in a bad way. He consumed everything around you, drowning out the sounds from outside as they’re replaced with his heavy grunts.
Every sound that came out from Dean’s mouth sent shivers down your spine and heat straight to your pussy.
Your hand, desperate to find anything to hold, found his damp hair, running your fingers through and raking your nails against his scalp. The other held onto his thick bicep, which you indented with small crescents from how hard you were gripping him.
Dean’s hand found the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, and tipped your head to the side.
He bit the bottom of your lip and said, “Open that pretty mouth.”
And without hesitation, you looked at him through your thick lashes, you opened your mouth.
Dean’s grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly. His free hand found your face, grabbing your cheeks to spread your mouth further, making your pussy clench on nothing. You saw the movement of him drawing spit from his mouth before he spat into your mouth.
“Swallow, pretty girl,” he commanded. You obeyed.
Your mind was genuinely on autopilot as everything about him dominated you, and it felt liberating.
He returned to attacking your mouth with kisses, tugging at your bottom lip in silent request. You obliged, opening your mouth ever so slightly that his tongue slips through.
Tongues dancing together, he sucked onto yours, soft moans escaping your mouth which made Dean twitch painfully in his tight gym shorts.
A string of saliva connected you two as he pulled away. “I know what I want,” he whispered as his heavy breath fanned your face.
You, completely dazed, looked at him for a good second until it registered.
In return for doing pilates, he could get whatever her wants.
You dragged your thumb over your swollen, kiss-ridden, bottom lip, “Oh?”
His hips lifted as he adjusted himself on his leather seat, his eyes looked at his very obvious hard-on.
He looked back at you and you raised a brow, two can play that game, “Use your words, Deanie.”
“Please,” his hips lifted as he started pulling his shorts down, torturously slow, just like those instructors counting.
Your eyes followed the movement and you involuntarily swallowed, mouth growing dry at just the thought of taking him in your mouth. The dusty blonde hair that trailed from his stomach continued downward. Until his length finally sprung free.
“Please suck me, baby,” he stroked himself once, precum beading at the tip. “’m begging you.”
That’s it, Dean will be the death of you.
You gave him a sultry look before leaning over the center console, replacing his hand with yours. Dean’s size never fails to impress you, with your fingers barely touching as you wrapped them around him.
You stroked him slowly, earning a hiss from Dean. Looking up at him, one hand was gripping the head rest of his seat, bicep bulging while the other held onto the back of the center console. He looked absolutely delicious.
You brought your attention back to the star of the show. His tip was so red and precum started to drip down his length. You traced the precum all the way up to his tip, giving it small kitten licks, savouring the salty taste of him.
“Baby, don’t tease, please,” he said with a strained voice.
You smiled to yourself before taking him into your mouth, his length immediately hitting the back of your throat, gagging around him. That hand on the centre console settled on your hair, fisting it. He groaned, then bit his lip to muffle himself, as your throat clenched around him, making your pussy melt.
The hand you had wrapped around him tightened as you fisted the remaining length you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You started twisting your hand around him and you bobbed your head, swirling your tongue on his tip and length.
You heard smacking against leather, and assumed Dean was hitting the head rest struggling to maintain composure. From the sounds he made, he was definitely losing it.
Your other free hand cupped his balls, weighting and fondling them. The action forced Dean to lift his hips and buck into your mouth, activating you gag reflex, eliciting a choked moan from him.
You increased your pace, hand twisting, mouth sucking and his hips thrusting. The hand on your hair was fisted tight, guiding your head up and down. You moaned, sending vibrations through the hard length filling your mouth. Dean responded with thrusting harder, sounds of pleasure escaping him.
“That’s it, baby.” He stroked my hair with the hand that fisted it, ”Sucking me off in the car where anyone could see us.”
His hips thrusted and you felt him twitch in your mouth, with your lips parted around him, Dean has the sexiest view of you. His dick swelled and you knew he was close.
“Harder, baby. Please suck me harder.”
And you did, you worked in tandem with your tongue that licked a stripe along the vein of his length. Wrist rotating, increasing your grip ever so slightly to send him over the edge.
“Fuck,” he tried to pull you off his dick, “baby, baby, baby. ‘m gonna cum, please.”
He’d be a fool to think you wouldn’t wanna taste him, even after working so hard at pilates. You wanted to drain him. Suck him dry. Savour every drop.
Dean’s body shook, his hips bucked upward, both hands gripping your head this time, forcing your head onto him. He tossed his head back, audibly hitting the head rest, releasing himself in your mouth. Your name left his lips, like a prayer. You stayed still as he spilled every remaining drop into your mouth before swallowing it all.
You pulled off him, proud of yourself.
His hands fell to his sides as he sat there, completely spent. His breathing was still erratic, you’d think he just finished a hockey match. He tilted his head, looking at you with a smirk, “When are you doing pilates again?”
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