[lavishmeup]

sylvie 𝄢 ་༘࿐ 18 she her

She spends hours on the riverbank.

She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims

 infj-t | #lovebaking | Challengers (2024), my beloved ᥫ᭡.

this is where i shitpost and yap to my heart's content about shows, films & or things on my mind! 

Current Song

Dark and Long (Dark Train) by Underworld

Current Obsessions

movie theaters | pinterest | The Big Bang Theory (tv) | napping | josh o' connor

[ohangeleyes]

everybody wanna eat the rich until its taylor swift girl gtfo my face

[missmanlykink]

smh…the slut that keeps SLUTTING/pos

@deansdeer @str4wbsstuff @d3ad-aliv3

[springtyme]

Denis x f!reader who is Santos best friend and has no idea that she got a new roommate and turns out he is cute 🥺🙂‍↕️ (looove your writing!)

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 ♡

Omg, yes!! such a cute idea! and you're right, he is so cute <3

Dennis Whitaker x f!reader || Masterlist || Spotify

summary: An unexpected visit over takeout leads to quiet first impressions, gentle curiosity, and a surprising easy evening.

word count: 3.1k

note/tags: Fluff. No use of y/n. Reader and Santos are best friends. Mention of background Sntos x Garcia. Let’s just pretend that Dennis has his season 2 haircut here.

You don’t knock like a stranger. You knock like someone who’s been here a hundred times before, it’s how you always knock when you visit Trin. Two quick raps before you shift the bag of takeout to your other hand, already half-turning to check your phone while you wait.

Trinity didn’t answer your call, but you decided to come anyway, because you’ve never needed an invitation before. You also have a key, just like she has one to your place.  

You smile to yourself, thinking about a funny thing that happened at work, that you’re excited to tell her about. But when the door opens the smile dies on your face, because the person standing in the doorway is not your best friend. It’s a guy… A guy you have never seen before.   

He looks like someone who wasn’t expecting anyone. Soft brown curls falling over his forehead, slightly mussed like he’s run his hands through them one too many times. He is in a loose hoody and a pair of pajama pants, looking just as startled as you feel. His blue eyes so wide he looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

You blink. He blinks. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is gentler than you expect.

“Hi,” you answer, confusion filling your brain.

You glance past him into the apartment. Same couch, same framed print you helped Trin hang. Same overwatered houseplants, that for some reason, still refuses to die. Wrong person.

“…Is Trinity home?” you ask carefully.

He hesitates like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to answer that. “No, she, uh. She picked up an extra shift.” He steps back automatically, like he thinks he’s in your way. 

You stare at him. He shifts under it.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m not, like, breaking in. I live here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You live here?”

He nods, a little too fast. “Yeah. I moved in a couple weeks ago.”

A couple weeks ago… She was at your place three days ago, yapping about some surgeon she stabbed with a scalpel, and who she definitely has a crush on. 

“I’m Dennis,” he adds, as if that might help. It does not.

Your dear friend Trinity Santos sure has some explaining to do. 

“Right…” you say slowly, before telling him your own name, and something like recognition flickers over his face. “I guess Trin isn’t coming home anytime soon?”

“Yeah, she only left about an hour ago, and it’s a 12 hour shift, so…” 

“Hm,” you hum softly, rocking back on your heels.

You hesitate for just a moment, it’s your best friend’s apartment, but there’s a strange man standing in the doorway, but he also looks like he apologizes when other people bump into him. Worn hoodie. Pajama pants. White tennis socks. Hair just a little too messy. He doesn’t look threatening. He just looks tired. Soft around the edges. Like someone who hasn’t quite caught up on sleep. And if he really is gonna live with Trin you’ll have to get to know him anyway. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask suddenly, lifting the takeout bag slightly.

He blinks at you. “Me?”

“No, the cactus,” you deadpan.

His mouth twitches before he can stop it.

“I, uh. I mean, I can Venmo you,” he says quickly. “I don’t want to just—”

“It’s fine,” you cut in. “I bought too much, anyway.” That part isn’t even a lie.

He hesitates, clearly waging some internal moral battle about accepting food from a girl he just met in his borrowed doorway.

“Okay,” he says finally, it’s soft. “Yeah, I’m a little hungry.”

You nod once before stepping inside. He closes the door gently, too gently, like he’s worried it might take offense while you toe off your shoes. 

“She said you had a key,” he says.

“I do.”

“Right, yeah, okay.”

A stretch of silence follows. You can feel him standing a polite distance behind you while you set the bag of food on the coffee table before turning again. He’s still watching you, but in that way that doesn’t feel invasive. Just careful, like he’s trying to read the room and not take up too much space in it. There are faint shadows under his eyes. A crease between his brows that looks like it lives there now.

“So,” you say. “You’re Trin’s…?”

He flushes. “Coworker.”

You wait.

“And roommate,” he finishes, like it pains him to assume the title.

“Huh.” You cross your arms and tilt your head. He straightens slightly, as if bracing for interrogation. “So you work at the ER?”

“Yeah, student doctor.”

“Ah.”

That explains the exhaustion. The way he looks like he’s halfway between here and somewhere much louder.

“And she just didn’t think to mention that she moved a man into her apartment?”

His ears go red. “I thought she would have.” 

“Well, she didn’t,” you say flatly. “Probably been too busy being in love with that surgeon,” you finish dryly under your breath.

His head snaps up. “What?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” you ask sweetly.

He looks horrified. “No… I mean, I don’t—”

You laugh, the sound finally breaking some of the tension in the room. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He exhales like you just pulled him back from the edge of a cliff. He bites back what might be a smile. It’s subtle, shy, like he doesn’t fully trust it, and something about that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“You didn’t,” you reply automatically.

But it is weird. Because now that the shock is wearing off, you’re noticing things. Like the way he keeps his hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie so they won’t fidget, like he’s not sure what to do with them. Or the way he stands slightly off to the side instead of directly in front of you, as if he’s instinctively making space. The way he looks at you when you speak, so attentive, even if it makes him look a little startled every time your eyes meet.

“You look familiar,” he says suddenly.

You frown. “I do?”

“There is a picture of you on the fridge.” His mouth twitches. “I think it’s from new years.”

You close your eyes. “She did not keep that up.”

“It’s very much up.”

Mortification floods you. He’s smiling properly now, small, but real. And god, he’s cute. It’s in an unpolished way, like he hasn’t realized it himself yet.

“Great,” you groan. “Love that for me.”

“It’s a nice picture,” he offers gently. “You look very happy on it.”

That catches you off guard. You swallow. “She has dozens of normal pictures of me,” you mutter

“She likes that one.”

“Of course she does…”

There’s a small pause, and when you look back at him, he’s not laughing at you. He’s just looking. Careful and thoughtful. His ears go a little pink again. “She talks about you a lot.”

That catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting that. Not that you didn’t think your best friend wouldn’t talk about you. Of course she would. You just didn’t expect it to land like that. Or that she talked about you to a guy who lives in her apartment without you knowing about it. 

“A lot?” you repeat carefully.

“Yeah.” He nods, then immediately looks like he regrets how quickly he answered. “Not, uh. Not in a weird way. Just… Normal best friend amount… I think.” He pauses. “I don’t actually know what the normal amount is.”

You stare at him for a second. Your pulse picks up, not from fear, but from the strange little warmth of realization. Trin’s world includes this guy now, and apparently, you’re still very much part of it.

“The normal amount,” you repeat slowly.

He winces a little, like he can hear how that sounded. “I just meant, you know, she mentions you. In stories. In passing. When something reminds her of you.” 

“It’s only good things, I hope,” you say, almost teasing, though your voice has a little edge of vulnerability. It’s weird sitting with a stranger who knows more about you than you do about him. 

He glances up at you, earnest and careful. “Yeah, definitely.”

“That’s a relief.”

“She also said you’d show up unannounced from time to time,” he adds carefully.

“Oh,” you say, caught between amusement and mild exasperation.

“And that if you did, I shouldn’t panic.”

You blink. “Are you panicking?”

He hesitates. “…A little.”

You laugh again, softer now. He lets out a quiet laugh too, almost sheepish, and scratches the back of his neck like he’s aware he’s still on thin ice with you.

“See?” you tease lightly, “Nothing to worry about. I only come bearing food.” You lift the bag slightly.

“Right,” he says, giving a small nod, and a smile, that has no business being that sweet. “That I can handle.”

You set the bag down again, careful not to make things awkward, and watch as he settles a bit more into the room, shoulders loosening like someone letting go of a weight they didn’t realize they’d been carrying. 

You gather plates and glass from the kitchen and start to set them out on the coffee table. You don’t say much while you do it. The quiet hum of the apartment, the faint scent of takeout, and the subtle shuffle of Dennis moving around you is enough.

Once the plates and glasses are arranged, you sink into the couch, giving him a small, easy smile. “So you are a student doctor,” you start, resting your elbows on your knees, “and Trin just moved you into her apartment after just meeting you. What else do I need to know about Dennis..?”

“Whttaker,” he says, a little hesitant, as if testing whether you actually want the answer. “Uhm, I don’t know. I’m from Nebraska, grew up on my family’s farm

You tilt your head, studying him, letting the image form in your head. Him being a small town farm boy kind of makes perfect sense. And you can’t help but find it kind of cute too. The way his hands seem used to work, the quiet attentiveness in the way he moves, the soft hesitation in his voice when he’s unsure.

“Farm boy, huh?” you muse lightly, teasing but warm.

He chuckles softly, a little sheepishly, running a hand through his mussed hair. “Yeah… I guess so.” 

You grin, letting the small moment stretch out. There’s something easy about sitting here with him, even though you barely know him, there is something unforced about him. The quiet steadiness of someone used to work and responsibility, but without the arrogance that usually comes with it.

“So, Nebraska to Pittsburg,” you say softly, leaning back, curious now. “That’s a bit of a leap.”

He swallows, smiling faintly. “Yeah… I wanted to do something different, I guess. Something where I could… make a difference. The farm’s great, but… I wanted to try something else.”

You nod, letting his words settle. There’s a sincerity to him that’s hard to ignore, the kind that doesn’t feel performative. It’s just him, quietly explaining his path. “I get that,” you say, your tone easy, reflective. “It’s brave, doing something so different.”

He shrugs, still soft, still careful, like he doesn’t want to overstate himself. “I wouldn’t call it brave… just… I don’t know. I guess I needed to know I could do more than what I grew up with.”

You smile, a little warm, a little amused. He meets your smile with a faint one of his own, hesitant, like he’s not sure he deserves it, but it’s genuine all the same.

You lean back a little further, letting yourself absorb the small, steady rhythm of the apartment around you. The soft shuffle of his movements, the faint hum of the fridge, the smell of food, it all feels oddly grounding. 

You eat and talk, and it’s easy. Conversation flows in little bursts, quiet and comfortable, like you’re not filling the space so much as letting it exist with someone else in it. He talks about the hospital, the long hours, the chaos, the small victories, and you listen, curious to hear about from a different perspective than Trin’s, asking the occasional question that pulls out a little more of him without forcing it.

It’s not awkward. Not exactly. And you both become more and more comfortable as the conversation goes on. It’s just… new, and surprisingly easy, and quietly charged with a kind of curiosity that makes the time stretch just enough to notice the little details. 

You finish your meal slowly, savoring the food more than usual, not because it’s anything special, but because the quiet company makes it feel different.

You catch yourself watching him for a fraction longer than necessary, how his sleeve rides up when he reaches across the table, the way his eyes flicker with thought before he answers a question, the faint crease in his brow when he’s concentrating. There’s something grounding about him, like he fits into the room in a way that doesn’t demand attention but gently claims it anyway.

When the last bite is gone and the plates are cleared, neither of you rush to fill the silence. Instead, it stretches comfortably, a shared space of quiet that feels almost rare. You realize, with a little shock, that this is one of the easiest first encounters you’ve ever had with someone new. And you can’t help but wonder what it says about Trin, that she could bring someone into her world, and somehow, immediately, they belong.

Dennis finally leans back slightly, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you for dinner, it was nice,” he says softly, almost hesitant, as if he’s testing whether politeness is enough.

You shrug lightly, grinning. “No problem. I don’t know what I would have done with all that food if you hadn’t been here.”

He nods, a little relieved, and the corners of his mouth lift into a faint, genuine smile. “Yeah… I didn’t expect company, honestly. But, uh… it was nice. Really.”

You tilt your head, studying him for a beat, letting the words settle in the quiet room. “Well,” you say softly, “I’m glad I showed up then. I still can’t believe you’ve lived here for weeks without me knowing about it.”

He shifts slightly in his seat, a soft laugh escaping him, low and hesitant. “Yeah… sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really thought she would have told you.” His blue eyes flick to yours for a moment, careful, curious.

“No need for you to apologize,” you say, letting the words come easy, softening the moment. “It’s not your fault she hasn’t told me. She probably just wasn’t in the mood to have me yelling at her for inviting a guy she has known for one day to live in her apartment.” 

Dennis lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that’s both embarrassed and relieved, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah… that sounds about right.”

A stretch of silence follows, comfortable this time, not awkward. He shifts slightly in his seat, then leans back, letting out a small sigh that feels more like relief than anything else. “She really does things her own way,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But… I think it works. Somehow.”

You smile, soft and easy. “Yeah, it usually does. She has this… talent for making people fit into her world, whether they want it or not.”

Dennis glances at you, a faint, curious smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I have to be very thankful for that.”

You let the silence settle again, but it’s different now, lighter, threaded with something unspoken but not uncomfortable. The way he moves, the careful attentiveness in his posture, the faint warmth in his smile, it all makes the silence feel like it isn’t empty at all, just shared. 

He looks tired, the kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from long hours and little sleep, but it doesn’t make him any less present. If anything, it makes the quiet weight of him feel even more real, real and grounded. You can’t help but notice the faint dark circles under his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders, and yet there’s a steadiness to him, a calm that quietly balances the room, but you don’t want to overstay your welcome, he looks like someone who could needs to go to bed sooner rather than later. 

You shift slightly on the couch, weighing whether to linger or give him space. There’s a softness to him, the kind of quiet presence that makes the room feel fuller just by being in it, but also the kind that suggests he could really use rest.

“Alright,” you say after a moment, leaning back into the couch, “I think I’ve learned enough about Dennis Whitaker for one evening. But you better be ready, Trin’s going to want to know everything I’ve found out.”

He raises an eyebrow, a small grin appearing. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirm, playful but firm. “No secrets from me. I’m her best friend, after all.”

He laughs, and it’s a little more freely this time. “Of course.” 

You help gather the empty plates and glass, taking them back to the kitchen and putting the leftovers in the fridge for Trin when she gets home, but he insists on washing up when you offer to help with that too. 

He shakes his head gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll take care of that later. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“Alright, if you insist” you say, “I guess I’ll let you have your alone time with the dishes.” 

He chuckles, the sound low and easy, and then there’s a comfortable pause.

“Well,” you then say, forcing a little more brightness back into your voice. “I should get going.” 

He follows you to the door, stopping a few steps behind you, his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants as he watches you reach for the door knob. 

You turn your head, catching a glimpse of him over your shoulder. “Dennis?”

He looks up like he wasn’t expecting you to use his name.

“Yeah?”

“If you murder my best friend, I will beat your ass.”

He blinks. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiles. “Noted.”

You open the door, the hallway air feels cooler than it should. You walk halfway down before you realize your heart is beating way faster than it has any right to. You pull out your phone to text Trinity.

YOU HAVE A MAN LIVING IN YOUR APARTMENT??!!

Three dots appear almost immediately.

oh yeah. lol

did u meet huckleberry? 

isn’t he sweet

You glance back at the closed door. Sweet, yeah, that might be the problem.

[violeteaturbread]

[mvsl1y]

my core four

[lalaleeiillaa]

“yeah i read a lot!”

“oh awesome! What books do you read?”

[lovee-potions]

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT

PARING(S) — dennis whitaker x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS — (req) your roommate has a very interesting secret…

CONTENT — 18+ minors dni | camboy!dennis, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), hand job, oral (m!receiving), cum swallowing. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

WC — 3.1k

NOTE — not sure how i feel about this lol… apologies for the rushed ending, it was three in the morning when i finished this!

MASTERLIST | REQUEST

Spring had finally settled in properly, the kind of afternoon that felt like a quiet reward after weeks of grey skies and long shifts. Sunlight filtered through pale green leaves that had only just returned to the trees as people drifted lazily along the pavement, coats shrugged off, conversations lighter, and everything just a little slower than usual.

Days like this were rare. Days off? Even rarer.

Which was exactly how you and Santos had ended up tucked into a corner booth of a small local café, trading hospital chaos for the steady hum of coffee machines and low chatter. The windows were thrown open just enough to let in the breeze, carrying the faint scent of fresh flowers from somewhere down the street.

Your drink sat between your hands, still warm, though you hadn’t taken more than a couple of sips. It felt strange, almost, to not be rushing—to just sit, exist, and not be needed every five seconds.

Across from you, Trinity looked entirely too observant for someone who was supposed to be relaxing. She stirred her coffee slowly, eyes flicking up to you with a look that immediately made you suspicious.

“Okay,” Trinity said, her tone carefully casual in a way that made it very obvious it wasn’t casual at all, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but you look exhausted.”

You narrowed your eyes at her over the rim of your cup. “I am exhausted.”

“Mm,” she hummed thoughtfully, tapping her spoon once more before setting it down. “But not, like, work exhausted.”

You frowned, lowering your drink slightly. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” she leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice, “you’ve got that specific kind of tired. The kind that says you were up all night doing something… interesting.”

You blinked at her, the words taking a second to register. “Oh my God.”

She just raised her brows, completely unashamed. “What? I’m observant.”

You dragged a hand slowly down your face, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this conversation. “It’s not that.”

She shrugged, but the grin tugging at her lips said she didn’t believe you for a second. “Sure it’s not.”

“It’s Dennis,” you groaned, dropping your head back dramatically against the booth.

“Whitaker?” She snorted. “What did he do?”

“I don’t even know!” you said, sitting upright again, frustration bubbling over. “He just—he’s noisy. At night. Like, weirdly noisy.”

Trinity blinked once, then her entire expression shifted—slow, delighted, and immediately dangerous.

“Noisy how?” she asked, far too innocently.

You pointed at her with your cup in warning. “Do not start.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” she said, barely containing a laugh now. “What kind of noises?”

You dropped your gaze to the table, suddenly very interested in a scratch in the wood. “You know what type of noises.”

“Oh,” Trinity leaned back, folding her arms with exaggerated composure, though the amusement practically radiated off her. “Wow. Late-night activities?”

Your face heated instantly. “No. No. Absolutely not. I do not want to think about Dennis like that.”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded, clearly unconvinced. “Sounds like jealousy to me.”

“Jealousy?” you scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Of Dennis? Please. I value my sleep too much.”

“Exactly,” she pointed at you like she’d just proven something. “You’re jealous he’s having a better night than you.”

“He is not—” you cut yourself off with a frustrated groan, pressing your fingers briefly to your forehead. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you,” Trinity said sweetly, taking a slow sip of her coffee, “are sleep-deprived and in denial.”

You slumped further into the booth, letting your head tip back for a moment. “I’m getting earplugs.”

She smiled over the rim of her mug, eyes glinting. “You know… this might not actually be about Dennis.”

You turned your head just enough to give her a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh, here we go.”

“I’m serious,” she continued, undeterred. “You’re tired, you’re grumpy, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything your roommate is doing at night—”

“I am not hyper-aware—”

“—and,” she continued smoothly, talking right over you, “you haven’t exactly had a life outside of the hospital in… what, forever?”

You opened your mouth to argue, then hesitated. “…That’s not the point.”

Trinity’s smile sharpened, triumphant. “It is exactly the point.”

You groaned softly, letting your head fall back against the seat again. “Please don’t turn this into a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” she said lightly, waving a hand as if it were obvious. Then she tilted her head, studying you with a little too much interest. “I think you might just be a little… pent up.”

You stared at her, utterly deadpan. “Absolutely not.”

She shrugged, completely unbothered. “You’re allowed to be, you know. Long shifts, no time off, no distractions—”

“I have distractions,” you cut in, though it came out weaker than you intended.

“Name one,” she shot back immediately.

You huffed, looking away, suddenly finding the café window very interesting. “You are unbelievable.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, settling back with a satisfied little nod. “I’m also right.”

You folded your arms, sinking deeper into the seat. “Even if I was—which I am not—what exactly am I supposed to do about it?”

Her expression shifted instantly, like she’d been waiting for you to ask. “Oh,” she said, brightening, “I have ideas.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t like that tone.”

Trinity leaned forward again, resting her chin in her hand, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “You need a distraction. Something fun. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with work… just something to let off some steam.”

You froze mid-sip, then very slowly set your drink back down. “No.”

She grinned. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

You rubbed your temples, already tired of where this was going. “Trinity.”

“There’s an obvious solution,” she said, grinning. “You could go home, put something on, relax—”

You stared at her. “Put something on.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, far too smug.

“Like what, exactly?” you asked, one brow lifting skeptically.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said airily, pretending to think. “A movie. A show… A video.”

You blinked at her, then immediately shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

That only made her grin widen. “What? It’s efficient.”

“I am not—” you cut yourself off, lowering your voice as someone walked past. “I am not taking that advice.”

“Why not?” she asked, far too casually.

“Because it’s—no. Just no.”

Trinity laughed softly, leaning back in her seat like she’d already won. “You’re blushing.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “I am not blushing.”

“You are absolutely blushing.”

“I am tired,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction now.

“Sure, tired,” she echoed, clearly not convinced. “And stubborn.”

“You just told me to go home and watch ‘videos,’” you said flatly.

“I said it might help,” she corrected, though her tone had softened into something more teasing than pushy. “Just… try it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

That night, as you settled into bed, curiosity got the better of you. Santos had sent you a link to a site she swore was ‘like OnlyFans but better’, making an offhanded comment about you being overworked and underfucked. So, against your better judgement, you grabbed your laptop and opened an incognito tab.

At first, you didn’t think anything of it, just aimlessly scrolling through the site. But then, you saw him. An account called ‘CowboyOnCall’. His profile picture was of him in hospital scrubs and a cowboy hat tipped low enough so you couldn’t see his face. 

You should’ve clicked away yet something about him intrigued you. So, naturally, you scrolled through his posts. You couldn’t believe yourself, this wasn’t like you. You were used to curling up on the couch with a good book. Yet, you didn’t close your laptop. 

This is just curiosity, you reminded yourself, shifting slightly on the bed. That’s all.

A minute passed. Then another. It would’ve been wise to turn your laptop off but every rational thought left your mind. You found yourself listening closer. Not just hearing it, but focusing on it—the tone, the cadence, the way his voice dipped and softened in certain places.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, though there was no real conviction behind it now.

Because you hadn’t stopped. Because you didn’t want to.

Curiosity, you told yourself again, weaker this time. That’s all this is.

But as the saying goes—Curiosity killed the cat. And apparently, you weren’t much smarter than the cat. Because one video turned into two. Two turned into five. Each one a little easier to justify than the last. Each one pulling you in just a bit more.

By the sixth video your thighs were clenched tight as heat coiled low and heavy in your stomach. On screen, he was sitting in a chair with the camera propped up beside him, facing his mirror. 

The tip of his hat had fallen over his eyes, boxers shoved down to his ankles and shirt bunched between his teeth—his jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked. You noticed the happy trail—a line of curls directing your eyes to his cock.

He wasn’t small by any means but he was long. He was fairly thick, but it was clear that length mattered more than width. His right hand stroked himself lazily, his thumb sliding along his slit and collecting the bead of precum there before dragging it south.

The skin stretched and pulled as he methodically moved his hand up and down. His shirt muffled the whimper that threatened to slip past his lips as he squeezed his fist around his cock. He was painfully hard—flushed and leaking—his tip a swollen angry red. He kept his strokes slow, his hips jerking up in desperation.

Your breathing had turned shallow and uneven as you watched every rough pump of his fist around his cock. You hadn’t even registered that your hand had slipped under the waistband of your panties until your fingers found your slick heat.

At the sound of his low groan, you couldn’t help yourself from separating your fingers and pushing your middle finger into your cunt. Your hips rolled up instinctively, back arching off the mattress. You kept your pace in time with his strokes—if he sped up, so did you.

You gasped as your palm grazed your clit—already so sensitive it almost hurt. The sound that slipped past your lips was embarrassingly needy. You hummed, teeth catching your bottom lip as you kept going, curling your finger just right.

Focusing your gaze on the video playing on your computer, you watched as precum dribbled down his shaft and over his knuckles as he continued to edge himself. You were soaked, your breaths catching in quiet, uneven gasps, eyes glued to the way his hand twisted around his cock, speeding up as he chased his release.

You move another finger down, pushing it in alongside the other. Your fingers seemingly went faster as he continued to stroke himself, unable to tear your eyes away from the hand working on his cock as his groans continued to fill your laptop speakers.

Tilting your head back, a lewd moan slipped past your lips as you found yourself closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm. You couldn’t stop pumping your fingers faster and faster as you brought yourself over the edge. 

Your toes curled into the bedsheets, your back arching as your orgasm ripped through you—sharp, sudden, and almost violent. The orgasm was dizzying and, out of the corner of your eye, you saw CowboyOnCall reach his own orgasm. 

His cock jerked in his fist, spilling over his knuckles, spurting all the way to his stomach. His shirt fell from his mouth as he choked on a moan—his thighs trembling weakly as he rode out his high.

Reaching forward with speed you didn’t know you possessed, you slammed your laptop shut and pulled your hand from your underwear. Your heart raced, thoughts spiralling over what you had just done.

Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, you let out a weak sigh and decided you needed a drink—whether it was water or something alcoholic, you didn’t know. You pushed yourself off the bed, the floor cool beneath your feet as you crossed the room.

You stepped into the hallway and made it halfway to the kitchen before you slowed. A low, drawn-out noise came from Dennis’ room. Frowning slightly, you reached for the door handle and realised it was slightly ajar. 

You moved closer to his door and hovered beside the doorframe. Tilting your head, you peered inside and the sight made your heart plummet. There he was… sitting on the edge of his bed in a cowboy hat and scrubs. 

A small gasp slipped past your lips as you watched him drag his hand up and down his cock. You felt sick to your stomach. The video that you had just touched yourself to… was your roommate?

Quickly shaking your head, you took a hesitant step back when—creak. You froze, briefly squeezing your eyes shut and willing every God out there to strike you down.

No, no, no, no, no, you thought, wincing. Fuck no.

Every part of you was screaming internally, literally begging you to turn around and run back to your room but your feet were rooted to the spot. Dennis snapped his head up at the creak of the floorboard and jumped up from his spot. He took his hat off his head and covered his crotch, his wide eyes connecting with yours. 

“Oh fuck!” he exclaimed, trying to take a step forward but ultimately tripping over his trousers that were around his ankles. 

“What… you’re… what?” you gestured wildly.

Dennis rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, cheeks red. “Its just a side thing… something for a bit of money, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know,” you retorted, still in disbelief.

Dennis shifted awkwardly under your gaze, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I started it before you asked if I wanted to be your roommate,” he said quickly, words tripping over each other. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was some perv.”

You blinked at him, glancing down at the trembling hand holding his hat over his crotch. Your throat bobbed as you willed your thoughts to stay pg. Against your better judgment, you sucked in a shaky breath and stepped into his room.

“You’re CowboyOnCall?” you questioned, your voice shaking slightly.

“Wait—you knew?” Dennis mumbled, stumbling over his words. “You’ve watched my videos?” 

“Is it on?” you asked quickly, your voice lower now, more urgent than before as you gestured toward the phone.

Dennis furrowed his brows, glancing sideways at it like he hadn’t even thought about it in the past thirty seconds. “What? Yeah—”

“Turn it off,” you whispered. 

The shift in your tone made him pause. He blinked at you, clearly thrown. “I—hang on—”

“Turn it off,” you repeated, cutting him off before he could finish, firmer this time, your eyes locking onto his.

Something in your expression must have convinced him, because whatever he’d been about to argue died on his tongue. He reached for his phone, his fingers hovered for half a second—like he was hesitating, like part of him didn’t want to break whatever he’d been in the middle of—but then he tapped the screen.

At the sight of him turning off his phone and chucking it onto his desk, you took another step closer, placing your hand on his chest and pushing him back to his bed. As the back of his knees hit his mattress, you pushed him down and sunk onto your knees before him. 

You brought a hand up and gently plucked the cowboy hat from his grip before throwing it to the side. His cock was flushed, the head slick with precum that slid down the shaft. Dennis’ breath stuttered, bracing his hands on the bed behind him.

“What are you—oh fuck—” Dennis’ words got cut off by a moan as you wrapped your hand around him.

You started off slow, stroking him from base to tip, and spreading the leaking fluid, making each pump smoother. Dennis’ head fell back, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as his hips jerked up into your grip.

Your hand moved faster, twisting with each upstroke. His moans had turned high-pitched and whiny as he thrusted up and fucked into your fist with frantic urgency. As your hand moved back down to his base, you leaned forward.

Your mouth found itself touching the tip of his cock, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock. You wrapped your lips around the beginning inches of him and it took all of Dennis’ willpower to not buck his hips up and make you take all of him there and then.

“Just—yes—you’re perfect,” Dennis whispered, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth.

One of Dennis’ hands moved from the bed and threaded through your hair as you slid your mouth downward and took him further. You gagged slightly as you bobbed your head, your nose digging into his curly happy trail. 

Saliva gathered at the corner of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. You moaned around him, your cheeks hollowing as his tip hit the back of your throat. Your teeth made a small, accidental scrape against his skin causing Dennis’ hips to buck up and force more of him into your mouth. 

Doubling down, you felt Dennis swell in your mouth signalling he was close. His cock pulsed against your tongue and it wasn’t long before a guttural moan ripped from him as he reached his climax.

You felt it instantly as thick strands pumped deep within your throat. Your throat worked around him as tears slipped from your eyes. His cock twitched with residual spasms, his body trembling as aftershocks rippled down his spine.

You swallowed everything he gave you, feeling it stick to the back of your throat before pulling back. You continued to stroke him lazily, drawing out every last drop. Then suddenly, the situation felt very, very real in a way it hadn’t a minute ago.

Clearing your throat, you sat back on your heels, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I—”

“Hey, it's okay,” Dennis whispered breathlessly, cupping your jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Surprising but definitely okay.”

“Fuck,” you chuckled weakly, hanging your head in shame.

“I mean it,” Dennis said, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him. “What you did was way better than what my hand could ever do.”

“Yeah?” you wondered sheepishly, blushing furiously.

“Yeah,” Dennis confirmed, nodding his head. “And now I know you’re a fan…”

“Don’t,” you groaned, closing your eyes. 

“Okay,” Dennis chuckled, raising a hand in surrender. “I’ll drop it… for now.”

“Hm, you better, CowboyOnCall,” you teased, patting his thigh.

[pickledturnips]

how it feels to find a bl*nde man attractive as a grown ass woman.

[444ocean]

i would kill myself if i was born a man

[angelbloggerqueen]

[delicqteheart]

he’s so happy to be unemployed

[beausling]

something something whiny needy soft dom bottom dennis whitaker ferally fucking up into you at the speed of light

[deansdeer]

he's letting you ride him and you start teasing him n he gets pissed off and takes over and your brain it literally turning into mush... and his muscles are flexing you can see veins from how hard of a grip he has

[beausling]

AND AND AND he would be soo fake mean, like when you start moaning louder and crying he’s all “aww, poor baby” “does it feel that good?” and you’re just nodding furiously and babbling incoherent bullshit, trying to rock back down against his thrusts. he’ll definitely start sucking your nipples at some point, which makes you cum faster, and all your hazy, fucked-out brain can think is “bite those fuckin biceps” so like of courseeeee you take a big chomp 🤗

[deansdeer]

ANNNDDDDD and he likes it so much he'll start fucking you from the back and put you in a real loose headlock so you can bite more🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️ n his aftercare goes crazyyyyyyyy

don't even get me started on him being into getting called dad and daddy

[beausling]

TWIN…. TWIN. YEAG

dennis having you in low doggy with the side of your face smooshed into the mattress, and then lifting your head up just to wrap his arm around your neck and squeeze a lil..

AND AND HE WOULD MAKE YOU HOLD YOUR ORGASM UNTIL YOU CALL HIM DAD

and the aftercare literally DOES go crazy. he’s sososooo sweet on you; kissing you all over. rubbing at your sides, legs, arm, back— anywhere to sooth you. apologizing if he left any bruises, or stinging hand prints on your ass/thighs. scratching your head like a dog (i need this expeditiously). telling you how good you did for him, how well you took his cock. reminding you to say “thank you for letting me cum, dad.”

bonus: senior attending!dennis with med student!reader or intern!reader, when they go out he lets random ppl think you guys are actually dad and daughter, only to plant the filthiest, most sloppy kiss ever on your lips, just to see the disgusted looks on their faced cus it turns him on. SADOMASOCIST EXHIBITIONIST DENNIS IS REAL TO MEEE

[deansdeer]

all my favorite words...

you tease senior attending!dennis by dropping off his lunch at the pitt calling him dad and he makes everyone uncomfortable when he kisses your lips and pats your ass before you leave and when he gets home you're on all fours lookin in a mirror while he's mocking you

[stroganoff66]

i miss you ben one day yuo will be excepted by the world and im sorry you got hit by a car

guys i miss him bring back likkle Benny who got hit by a car but only once

[ninidarlings]

you’ve never really lived until you’ve seen challengers (2024)

[kisscoabbot]

hearing shawn hatosy whimper like a fucking loser from a KISS while explicitly describing how bad he wants to fuck you just gave me 10 more years of life HE IS A WHOREEEEE YOUR HONOR

[frankensteinshouse]

Shawn Hatosy release me from wtv it is you have over me