After Jax fucks it all up again, you realize you need him like a hole in the head.
Author’s note: My first 2022 story. There is a lesson in there somewhere.
One call.
Exactly one call was all it took for you to finally lose your shit.
Still dressed in those navy blue satin shorts and a white silk top - the ensemble you usually wore to bed - you pushed your bare feet into your worn-out cowboy boots, the leather squeaking something fierce, sounding a lot like we told you so.
It’s like everyone - even your fucking cowboy boots - knew that he would fuck you over - again, and still, still you refused to give up on him. Could you be more stupid? You defended him, again and again, when all your friends - and even some of his friends - told you it wouldn’t last. That he would fuck it all up again, given the opportunity.
Didn’t fucking take him long, you thought, slipping on the first jacket you fished out of the rack under the stairs.
Before you could realize your mistake, his smell had hit you like a baseball bat, squarely in the face. Normally, as little as a waft of that mix of sweat, car oil, cigarettes and hickory spices - so entirely him - was enough to get you wet. Now all it made you want to do was gag.
Guys, I’m so sorry its taken me so long to get this chapter out. My muse abandoned me and my laptop was being weird. But here we are! Let me know what you think!
Tag List: @happyveday @alwaysindecemberfeels @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @saritanotserena
Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
———————————————————————–
The sunrise lit up the morning sky with an array of beautiful, pastel colors. Anna could only hope it was a good sign for the day. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes as she carefully walked over the rubble on the city’s streets, dodging icy puddles and mud. Gene was going to be quite upset with her later, but she tried not to think about that now.
Quickly, she hurried up the creaky steps of the old two-story home. It looked similar to most of the other buildings but its door was dirty and faded red with a rickety looking porch only half standing. She made a mental note to thank Boyd for his surprisingly clear directions, otherwise she knew she would have been wandering for a while and on these streets, that was far from safe. As quietly as possible, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She had been invited here, actually forced to come here if Boyd’s look yesterday said anything, but she still felt like an invader. The idea of setting foot inside the men’s barracks was something her mind fervently refused to acknowledge; it just was not even a possibility in her mind. Though this building was not technically an army barrack in the literal sense, she still felt like an intruder because it was sleeping/housing quarters for the men.
Her grandmother would be furious if she ever found out Anna entered the men’s quarters…. especially letting herself in. The thought tampered down Anna’s nerves slightly as she thought of the horrified look on the elderly woman’s face, if she ever discovered this. It lightened her mood for a brief moment.
Summary: Frankie and Pope’s house needs some holiday cheer.
A/N: There’s a lot going on here, I’m sorry for it. I thought about making this into two separate chapters but then thought it was too boring, so now you have a giant heaping mess of bad puns and dick jokes to hold you over for the time being. Merry Karissamas.
Chapter Two | Masterlist
—
You were so comfortable.
Warm, soft velvet weighed you down. It curled around your torso and supported your neck, dove between the heat of your thighs as you swung your legs around it. You were near the ocean, the morning dawn still purple beneath the horizon, the ripple of waves kissed and lapped at lukewarm sand just a few feet away. No one was around, a distant caw of a seagull, the far-off rumble of morning commutes crowding the intercoastal. The breeze was comfortable and playful on your bare skin as you waited for the sun to wake and nip the last brisk breath of air from the night.
You groaned a raspy satisfied sound when you felt lips on your breast, searing the already hot skin. A soft mouth that touched you carefully and traveled upward to your exposed collarbones, flushed neck, the sensitive meat below your ear at the hinge of your jaw. You hummed at the teasing scratch of stubble down your skin and whimpered, every so softly, at the feeling of hands, deft and large pressing carefully at the insides of your thighs, spreading them.
Then your fingers threaded through feathery brown waves of hair, the short strands tickling your knuckles as the head they were attached to swayed rhythmically down your body, leaving a torrid trail of tongue and teeth across your chest and torso, greedy licks in patterns on your hip bones.
“God yes,” you sighed, shifting your body to open wider, somehow feeling the cushion at your back give like a well-worn pillow as you sunk in further despite laying in sand. The softest sand. It smelled like home, like cedar and cotton and the manly tang of teakwood.
The sound of the waves had faded into background noise as your breaths quickened, little puffs of stunted sighs as the apex of your thighs ached for use. You heard your brain screaming kiss me there, touch me there, but all of a sudden the feeling of reprieve felt farther away no matter the very tangible pulse in your core. You reached for it, grinding your hips in circles until the throb was sated by the bundle of fabric caught in the tangle of your legs. You could reach that peak like this, with the image of the ocean and the palm trees and those perfectly tan hands and demanding brown eyes flickering up to meet your gaze as he—
The shutter of a camera cracked your fantasy like a strike of lightning to pine. Your eyelids flipped open, adjusting to the space through the tired, crusted slit of your eyelashes. Fuck, waterproof mascara was a fickle bitch. The lights were low in the room, still you could see the peak of blue sky and sunshine trying with might to breach through the blinds in the delacora windows. Your neck was unsurprisingly stiff, you grumbled and rolled it on your shoulders twice, activating the headache that had been lying dormant.
Content to try your luck at waking up again on the right side of the bed, you started to lay your head back down against the couch pillow only to be met with another much louder and apparent shutter of a camera at your feet.
You flung your body into an upright position, immediately coming face-to-iPhone with Frankie still at the opposite end of the couch, sitting with his back against the cushions as he had been when you fell asleep. Except now he tauntingly held his camera over your sock-covered toes in his lap.
“Good morning Oregon, were you just having a wet dream on my couch?”
“Ugh, sicko!” You tried to kick the phone out of his hand but he snatched it away quicker and showed you the screen. “Camera sounds” open in a tab on Youtube.
“I had to wake you up somehow, you were performing the Kama Sutra on my bed spread. It felt like a thing I needed to give consent for.”
You looked down to see his comforter was twisted in a braid between your legs and up the length of your torso, you were hugging it like a koala bear would a tree trunk. The embarrassment heated your cheeks and brought your attention to the very sticky situation your crotch was in. Literally.
You cleared your throat. “Why didn’t you just get up and go to your own bed last night?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you after you fell asleep, you looked cute as fuck drooling on my couch pillows.”
You palmed the cream colored throw under your head “I did not drool on your-” fuck, you definitely drooled on it.
He smirked, and looked back down to his lap. “You know, for a girl who swore up and down last night she’d never put her feet on a dick you’re looking extremely comfy.”
You registered that your limbs were still extended clear across Frankie’s thighs, you must have claimed the couch as your own in the middle of the night under the influence of drunken comfort seeking. To be fair it could have been much worse, that little dream you just woke up from could have been real.
You rolled your eyes and retracted your legs from his lap to pull back under the blankets, but your heel caught something stiff and sensitive tucked into the band of his sweatpants.
“Oof,” Frankie winced through his teeth, “careful where you’re kicking those.”
Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “Do you have a fucking hard on right now!?” You tried not to look, you really did. The sweats did nothing to sway your gaze though, it was difficult enough to know it was there, call it mission impossible not to selfishly want to see what he was working with.
He shrugged. “It’s the morning, I don’t control these things.”
“Put it away.” You demanded. “Make it go away.”
“Should I pack it a bag and buy it a plane ticket?”
“Frankie-”
“Probably would exceed the weight limit though. I could unload some?”
Your teeth ground together in your mouth. Your body was not in the most stable state to deal with the sexual innuendo. You were still nursing a buzz like a parasite from the club last night and half your body obviously wanted something in, near, or around it enough to send you to beach-fuck-dream-land. The respectable half of your brain reminded you that he wasn’t out of the dark yet despite the late night couch-talk and if he wanted to be back in your good graces it would take more than making a dick joke and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.
“You’re over-confident.”
“Am I, though?” He tilted his head and watched you like he could see the gears turning inside your head, the tennis match of pros and cons that would come with letting him bend you over the arm of the sofa right now.
“Don’t call me Oregon,” you deflected. “This isn’t Zombieland.”
“Have you looked in a mirror?”
You glared in his direction, well aware of the state you must be in, you’d seen what a night out does to the undersides of your eyes. Not to mention Magdalena’s makeup wipes were fucking scented and you could feel the dry layer of skin begging for the expensive serums you had back at her apartment. Northwest winters were no joke.
“I can’t keep track of names, I just call every woman I seduce into wearing my socks by the state I found her in.”
“So you should be calling me drunk and desperate, obviously,” you said, scoffing.
The corner of his mouth lifted, he was amused by you to an errant degree, pushing willfully at every single button he could find, hoping one of them would open the right door. “I’ve yet to see desperate,” Frankie said. “I’m looking forward to seeing desperate.”
You choked up a condescending laugh that died on your tongue before it hit it’s mark. It sounded more like a breathless grunt, further fueling the heat in your cheeks and neck as you found a place besides Frankie’s eyes or the outline of his dick to focus your gaze.
“Okay then, O,” his grin turned toothy, feeling the tension in the moment. “Who were you riding in your dream?”
“No one. I was not having a fucking wet dream.”
“Those little noises you make put Lena’s to shame.”
You rolled your eyes and faced him again. “You’re hearing things.”
“Mhm.” That snide smile of his was back in full force. “So—” he leaned over, the leather of the couch creaking beneath his shoulder in the otherwise quiet room. He ran a soft trail up the inside of your exposed calf with his fingers. “If I touched your pussy right now, would I find out that you’re lying to me?”
It was dismal to hide the shock in your face. You had never met a man so outright unashamed.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he kept his hand on your leg, drawing tight little circles with his thumb that reignited the thrum elsewhere. “You know, avoidance is akin to admission — usually women that lie to me end up with their sweet little ass over my knee.”
You tilted your head, snorting complaisantly. It seemed like every reaction was lost in the delivery though, he was getting under your skin well and thoroughly, it was irking you even more that he absolutely knew it too. As if he wasn’t champing at the bit just as much. If he wanted to make a game out of fucking with you, it was only fair to play defense.
You folded your legs underneath yourself, discarding the comforter on the way and lifting onto all fours. Frankie’s eyebrow quirked, his pink tongue peaking out between his parted lips at your new position as you crawled toward him across the short gap and puckered your lips against his ear. You could feel the sharp intake of his breath.
“Too bad I’m not a little girl, Francisco,” you whispered, before licking a teasing trail up the shell.
When you shifted back to your side of the couch you caught him adjusting himself with the heel of his palm, tugging his pants away from his crotch. If anything, you’d sabotaged yourself and that further stirred the pressure between your legs.
“You’re a sadist,” he groaned.
“I’m starting to think so too.”
You both stared at each other, as if expecting the other to come careening across the couch in a clash of lips and limbs. But you already knew based on how the night and the morning so far had gone that Frankie was too much of a gentleman (obscene, but respectful), and you were too much of a stubborn martyr to give in so easily.
Reluctantly, realizing this wasn’t going to hit a climax and neither was he, Frankie sighed and stood from the couch, taking a few steps toward the hall. “Pope and Lena will be a while still.”
You grimaced.
“I’m gonna go shower and—” he vaguely gestured to his dick creasing a line in the fabric of his pants. “Take care of this.” You bit your tongue. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, O.”
“Don’t flatter yourself!” You shouted at his departing form disappearing down the hallway.
The second you heard the bathroom door snick shut you threw yourself back against the pillows and groaned. Just three weeks of avoiding sleeping with the most tantalizing bastard in southern Florida. Easy, right?
***
You were hungover and sticky in all places a person shouldn’t, and wouldn’t ever want to be. You ached for a toothbrush and some hot water to wash away the Santa-tainted night before. There was glitter stuck to your fingers when you rubbed your face and looked at your hands, which could only mean there was glitter in several other unappetizing areas of your body that would take the remainder of the trip to remove. And now that you were very much awake, thanks to Frankie and the visions of what he was currently doing in his shower— you needed some fresh air at the very least.
Stumbling across the house on your tiptoes, with much more light now than at two o’clock in the morning, it was easier to familiarize yourself with the rooms. The floor plan was open, lots of closets for storage, neutral gray and beige paints with white trim, it was simple but well maintained. A shoe rack, durable end tables, a laundry room with several types of detergent— impressive, unheard of. A few framed photos on the mantle of the show fireplace, because the lord knew it’d never been turned on in the heat of Pompano Beach.
You picked up one that you recognized, a group of men, arms and beers slung over each other's shoulders. Frankie on one end next to a taller dark haired man with a resting bitch face, then the man you now knew as Santiago in the middle. Two others were on his right, blonde, with a brotherly resemblance. “I knew it,” you laughed to yourself at the glossy photo you’d seen on his dating profile.
There wasn’t much to see down the hallway. Closed doors that you surmised were more storage closets, Frankie’s bedroom, then the bathroom next door to it that you could hear the soft stream of a shower head running behind. You skipped past it before your brain could even tempt you to stick your ear to the wood. Further down, another door across the hall that you knew was Santi and Mags and then a sliding glass door past there that opened up to a lush, green backyard. You slipped out into the thick morning air.
It had to have been mid morning, your phone was dead and still stuffed between the couch cushions inside so you couldn’t check, but you hovered a hand over your eyes like shade and the sun was high and bright enough to burn your poor, overused retinas on impact. It was already too warm for Frankie’s sweater and socks you had on, even for December, and you laughed thinking about the people back home right then in Portland slogging through two feet of snow and breaking their backs to shovel a walkway. It was like you were on a completely different planet, never mind just a different state.
You took the socks off, walking around on the warm pavers that built out a significant patio space in the backyard. There was a stainless steel grill to one end, right next to a beautiful six-seat wooden dining table with comfy cushioned chairs that you squeezed when you walked by. Opposite that, a big covered hot tub under an oversized turquoise blue hanging umbrella. The rest of the fenced-in backyard was grass, so short and manicured it looked like it was rolled straight off of a golfing green, and then a large shed in the far corner. You wondered if Pope or Frankie came out here themselves and maintained the lawn, pushing a mower in the Florida heat with their shirts soaked in sweat or, maybe just tucked into the back pocket of their shorts to use as a towel while the sun tanned their chests.
“Giving yourself a tour?”
You hadn’t even heard the sliding glass close behind you, but Frankie had quietly made his way outside holding two hot mugs of coffee. He was fresh out of the shower, now in board shorts and no shirt, the curling ends of his hair damp and dripping at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautifully browned, a soft trail of hair swirled his belly button and disappeared beneath a peak of a Hugo Boss band that made your throat dry.
“It’s really nice,” you offered, taking the second mug from him as he came to stand next to you and look out on the yard. “Not bad for two men, I gotta give it to you. You even have a hot tub.”
“We like nice things, too. It’s not an inherently feminine trait.”
“What do you guys do for work?”
“Cybersecurity.”
Your eyebrows knitted together in surprise. “Cybersecurity? Seriously?”
“It’s actually Pope’s gig, he runs it right from home most days, installing secure access software for larger companies in the area, monitoring the activity across all their channels looking for threats. I’m just his donkey.”
“Fitting.”
“I set myself up for that one.”
“You did.”
He snorted and took a sip of his coffee. “Uncle Sam paid for college so we actually just did everything online while we were still enlisted. Honestly, it’s nothing spectacular, but most people are technologically illiterate and think Pope’s some kind of computer hacking, dark-web surfer.”
“So then why were you looking for jobs in Oregon?”
“I make out well doing this but, it’s not mine. You know? It’s Pope’s. Sitting behind a computer all day isn’t what I envisioned myself doing. I’m good at flying, I miss it.”
“I understand,” you gave him a soft smile. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything but teaching. Seeing the passion in those kids every day and knowing I’m making an impact on their futures is worth every late night grading the same critical lens essay over and over again.”
“I wish I had teachers that looked like you in high school, Christ.”
You shoved him with your shoulder. “We were having an adult conversation for once and you had to go ruin it.”
He took another sip of his coffee and scanned the yard. “There’s a lot of things I want to do with you, O. Having adult conversations isn’t exactly on the top of the list.”
You rolled your eyes sarcastically, catching him unabashedly checking you out from the unruly frizz of hair to your bare legs poking out of his borrowed boxer shorts. You all of a sudden felt self conscious despite knowing he found you attractive.
“What?”
“You look really good all disheveled in my clothes.”
“God, what happened to the ‘I felt myself getting too selfish’ from last night?”
“I took a shower and changed my mind.”
You tilted your head, challenging him as you took a few steps closer. “Well, I didn’t.”
He smelled so damn good up close, clean like his soap, and you could count the freckles on his perfectly smooth chest. You liked Frankie. It was infuriating to admit to yourself but you knew if the circumstances were different you wouldn’t be fighting it as hard as you were. If you were honest, it was entertaining to take him down a few pegs though.
You shot a look over his shoulder at some movement in the backyard next door. There was an older man watering a crop of tomato plants and stealing glances at the two of you out of the corner of his eye. You waved tentatively, causing Frankie to turn and look as well.
“Shit,” he sighed under his breath. “Come here.”
“Huh?”
“Come here,” he whispered more aggressively at you, pulling your body to his and wrapping a forearm around your lower waist. He keyed on a smile and waved over the fence at the graying man. “How are you this morning, Mr. Barry?”
“Oh, just fine Francisco,” the man shouted back in an accent you couldn’t place.
Frankie squeezed you harder against him until you were tripping over your own feet and steadying yourself with a palm on his stomach. “What the fuck?” you started to complain but Frankie yelled over you.
“Alright, you have a great day! Tomatoes look fantastic!” He steered you both back in the direction of the sliding glass door.
“What was that about?”
“Our neighbor thinks me and Pope are together, you’re a good decoy. Gino is probably already on the phone with the rest of the geezers from clubhouse bingo telling them about the ten in my backyard.”
“So you owe me one.”
“What’s that saying? You touch my dick, I’ll touch—”
“What is it with you and dick’s? Gino might be onto something.”
***
Mags and Santiago had emerged from the bedroom when you got back inside, both sitting at the kitchen table nursing their own coffees. It looked like they were showered, but Mags was still in a lost-and-found style get-up of Santi’s that matched your own.
“Good morning, good morning.” Pope said cheerily, eyeing you and then tilting his head at his roommate who sat down at the island seat next to him.
Mags pulled you down to her level by your baggy sweatshirt sleeve. “Did you—” she whispered.
“No!” You swatted her hand away. “I did not, thank God.”
She smirked at Pope, who was watching the exchange closely and then put her hand out toward him, palm up.
“Mierda—” he sighed, pulling a leather wallet out of the back pocket of his shorts and sifting through it to slap a crisp fifty dollar bill in his girlfriend’s hand.
“HA!” Mags declared, snapping the bill tauntingly.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Frankie interjected. “What the fuck guys?”
“Did you make bets on us sleeping together?” You gaped at your friend.
“I knew you wouldn’t.” Mags boasted. “I know my best friend.”
“I know my best friend,” Pope added. “Fish, I was rooting for you.”
“Yeah, it’s not really up to me—” Frankie scratched the back of his neck.
“I mean you had all night, man. Where’d you two run off too just now?”
“I was taking a house tour,” you argued, ignoring the track the conversation was on. “The place is gorgeous but it’s seriously lacking in Christmas decor. It’s the middle of December, where’s the tree?”
“We haven’t taken it out yet.” Pope motioned toward the hallway.
“Take it out?” you gasped. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, no.” Mags sighed at her boyfriend. “You got her started now.”
“I mean— it’s in a box. In the closet.”
Frankie hopped off the stool he was sitting on and padded the few feet down the hallway to a storage closet, reaching inside and pulling out a rectangular box that couldn’t have been three feet tall— then a smaller plastic container filled with ornaments.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“What do you mean?” Frankie flipped the larger box upside down and shook it until the top popped open and a lame little tree fell anticlimactically to the floor in a heap of plastic pine needles.
“You’re kidding? That— is not a Christmas tree. That’s a decoration at most.”
“We put it in the window.”
“Okay I’ve heard enough—” you stood, holding your palm out to Frankie to silence him. “I’m declaring Operation Christmas on this residence. First order of business is the tree farm.”
Pope and Frankie both snorted, looking at each other and then you again. Even Magdalena hid a gladden smile behind pressed lips.
“Why is this so funny to you three?”
“Bonita,” Mags put her hand on your shoulder, “You’re in Southern Florida, there’s no such thing as a tree farm.”
“But hey,” Frankie intervened on your souring mood. “We can go to a tree lot, okay? There’s plenty of already cut ones to choose from.”
“We have a tree already—”
“Pope,” you saw Frankie’s eye twitch at his friend. “Don’t be a scrooge, maybe O is right, we could use a little holiday sprucing,” he nudged you with a shoulder and winked at his pun.
Magdalena and Pope groaned as you slapped Frankie with a high five. If he was the only one on your side with this you could afford him one geeky tree pun. You weren’t exactly sure he was on your side, so much as he was trying to get in your pants— but you figured he was on a mission for the latter anyway and you could use his sway with this.
“So, yes?” You steepled your fingers together and pouted your bottom lip.
Frankie, Mags and Santiago shared a few hesitant glances before Frankie tilted his head and shrugged at Santi.
“Ugh, fine.” Santi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Get in the car.”
***
You took the ten minute ride across Coconut Creek back to Mags’ apartment tucked into the backseat of Santiago’s truck, the boys fiddling with the radio and arguing over the height of their living room ceiling from the front. If it were up to Frankie, you would have gone gallivanting in his clothes all day, completely un-showered, but even Pope had the mind to make the pit stop.
You hadn’t exactly had a chance to settle in the night before; going from the airport, to dinner, and then chaotically half-unpacking every item of clothing and pair of shoes from your luggage while playing mix n’ match with Magdalena’s closet. The guest room had turned from pleasantly primped and welcoming to “Macy’s-clearance-section-on-Black-Friday” in a matter of minutes, and your pre-game brain never slowed down long enough to fix it.
After a much quicker shower than you would have preferred given the company that was lurking around in the loft, you skipped across the hallway into your room wearing Frankie’s clothes with a towel wrapped around your head.
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.”
“Jesus Christ,” you gasped with a hand over your chest, turning to find Frankie laying on the bed with his hands under his head, surrounded by the disarray of your belongings and half opened suitcase.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but you can just call me Frankie.”
“Get out,” you pointed a finger toward the door open to the hallway.
“You know there are perfectly good drawers for all of this?” He started rooting around in the pile next to him until something caught his eye.
“Yeah, well I didn’t exactly expect to have a man in my bed this morning.”
“Surprise,” he replied, half to you and half to the lacy red pair of panties he lifted off the bed and dangled from his fingers. “Wear these for me?”
“Get fucked.”
“I’m trying.”
You grunted and flipped the towel off your head, ignoring him and the twinge in your lower belly. You sorted around the floor and the mattress for shorts and a tee, the light zip-up sweater you wore on the plane— actively ignoring the pair of panties and how tiny and shreddable they looked in his hands.
“Fine, I’ll just imagine it for myself,” he shrugged, stretching the cherry red elastic from ear to ear over his face, the crotch laying perfectly over his sharp nose.
You gasped in surprise, the tips of your ears heating at the image of this man lying against the pillows with your panties on his face. “Give me those,” you scolded him, hopping onto the bed to snatch them away and Frankie chuckled warm and low when you finally wrestled them out of his grasp. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be besides up my ass?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t fucking say anything,” you rebuked, well aware of your verbal hiccup.
“We’ll call it even, then,” he winked. “And no, Pope and Lena are summoning spirits so I figured I’d take a page out of your book and give myself a tour.”
“Go tour the kitchen.”
“Sure, right after I get my clothes back.”
You looked down at the outfit you were still wearing, having thrown it back on to avoid running across the hallway nude. You may have thought to snag the sweater all together in true one-night-stand fashion if you knew you’d never see him again. It fit like an oversized glove.
“Right now?”
“Take em’ off.”
“Are you high?”
“I’ll close my eyes.”
“Oh, okay, in that case” you shoved an arm up the inside of the sweater, letting your hand disappear. Frankie sat up off the pillows in anticipation as you brought the same hand back out a few seconds later sporting a middle finger.
“You’re a cold woman,” he sighed, standing up from the bed and walking toward you and the door. “Did you at least think about me in the shower?”
“Out,” you crossed your arms over your chest when he got close enough to share your breath.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he smirked, then snagged the red panties out of your hand, tucking them into the pocket of his shorts before walking out the door.
***
“What are we even looking for?” Santiago lifted his sunglasses off his face and squinted at the rows of trees lined up under string lights in the Coconut Creek Walmart parking lot.
The makeshift tree-lot left little to be desired, it was run by a dirty looking man in a trailer parked along the fence, still donning a fanny-pack around his waist and a mullet unironically from the ‘80s. Frankie gave him a short wave that was returned with a head nod as he sucked on a gnarled wooden toothpick between his teeth.
“Just, whatever one speaks to you,” you answered Pope as the group of you walked alongside the first row of fluffy Frasier firs.
He snorted. “Honey, I don’t know much about the verbal communication of trees in the northwest, but in Florida they don’t whisper sweet-nothings.”
“Don’t be a scrooge, Santiago,” Mags came to your rescue, running her fingers across the needles of a tree that caught her eye. Frankie followed you at your heels as you sized up a shorter, thicker one.
“Thickness is good, gotta work on the length though.”
“Gross,” you scrunched your nose at him before dropping the branch and moving on to the next row.
In all the winters growing up, the one thing you could always look forward to was picking out a tree. You, mom and dad would squeeze together in the bench seat of the old Ford pick-up and hold on for dear life as it rattled down the road toward Quail Creek Ranch. Your father always insisted the best trees were the furthest up the hill, so far that no one in their right minds would ever want to haul a tree that distance, but you and your mother would laugh and hook arms, following anyways and giving the thumbs up when he finally declared he’d found the ‘best looking Christmas tree in all of Oregon.’ Neither of you ever had the heart to tell him you’d passed twenty trees that looked exactly the same on the hike, but that was part of the tradition. One you held onto for as many years as you could before the magic ran out.
“What about this one?” Frankie shouted from further down the lot, standing the tree up on its stump and giving it a twirl so everyone could see.
“It’s too tall,” Santiago pointed out.
“You’re just short,” Frankie put his elbow on his best friend’s head like an armrest and got a playful punch to the ribs.
“I think it’s beautiful, Francisco,” Mags told him, sticking her tongue out at Pope.
“What do you think, O?” Frankie only seemed to care for your approval as you walked a circle around the fir and eyed it up and down. The branches were healthy and thick, no gaping holes where pine needles should have been. You were sure the ornaments back at the house were few and far between, but what little they did have would fit nicely.
“I like it,” you admitted, giving him an impressed nod of approval.
“As good as they come up North?”
“Now you’re pushing it,” you patted him on the shoulder.
The three of you stood back a few feet as Frankie bent at the knees and hoisted the tree and all its bristles to rest over his shoulder. The movement pulled his t-shirt up his torso and gave you a damning view of the lower half of his stomach and that teasing trail of hair below his belly button again. His arms flexed with use against the seams of his shirt as the tanned muscles in his triceps tightened with exertion.
He and Pope started toward the sketchy man and his trailer down the lane watching with a little too much excitement.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Mags whispered to you.
You clamped your mouth closed in reaction, embarrassingly realizing you’d gotten so carried away.
“I need another drink, I think. The sun is getting to me.”
“Sure, bonita. And Frankie hasn’t been following you around like a puppy since you woke up this morning.”
“He’s pestering.”
“You’re loving it.”
You rolled your eyes at your girlfriend. “He told me he unmatched me because he was too into me. That’s a cop out, isn’t it? It’s a line to save his own ass.”
“Maybe. Maybe he’s serious? I’ve known Frankie a while now he’s not really the type to hit it and quit it.”
“He obviously is if he was trying to get lucky in Portland on a stay-over.”
The two of you steered toward the front doors of the Walmart and waited outside while the boys loaded the Christmas tree into the bed of Santi’s truck.
“He’s in his late thirties, he’s basically the other woman at his own house—”
“That’s funny, he thinks the same about you.”
“What?”
“Nothing— and besides the point. He could have been honest and just said I wasn’t what he was looking for and I would have told him it’s fine.”
“And then you both would have been lying,” she looked at you knowingly. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? You spend your holiday vacation getting eaten out by an attractive older guy who lends you his socks and makes you coffee in the morning”
“So, what?” You throw your hands out. “The four of us just shack up with our Christmas tree and our festive decorations and hot cocoa until the New Year and fuck like rabbits? Pretend I don’t have a career and a life in Oregon that my round-trip ticket is waiting to bring me back to like we’re in a big orgy snow globe?”
“I heard orgy snow globe?” Santi questioned, tucking the car keys Frankie had just tossed to him into his pocket.
“They sell those in Walmart?” Frankie added.
“You’re all on the naughty list,” you scoffed and walked through the doors inside.
***
Allowing you to roam freely in the holiday section of any store was sort of like letting a kid have free rein in a candy shop. Anything that sparkled or sang caught your attention and ended up in the cart that Frankie pushed ruefully beside you, regretting his famous last words of ‘go crazy’, when you added a pair of novelty Christmas dish towels that read “Making Spirits Bright” with a whiskey glass and wine bottle embroidered beneath it.
“Dish towels? Who needs decorative dish towels? I can’t even wipe my hands on them.”
“It’s about the ambiance,” you explained, eyeing the next shelf over full of coffee mugs. You weighed two against one another, ultimately picking the ‘Snow Much Fun’ over ‘Stay Cozy’.
“Where did the other two go?”
“I don’t know,” Frankie played with the bells on a stocking as you chucked it and three others over his shoulder into the basket. “Something about needing rope and batteries, I think?”
“Oh yes, we’re definitely gonna need batteries.”
Frankie kept his mouth shut as you perused along. Adding a set of seasonal buffalo plaid throw pillows to the haul with a matching blanket, a multi-use garland, red and gold ribbon in various patterns and sizes, and two boxes of candy-canes. You got to the wall of string lights and compared a few before sweeping a shelf full of ones you liked into the cart with your forearm.
“Woah! What’s with all the lights? I’m no expert, but a box or two of those should do the trick for one tree.”
“You need lights for the tree, and then you need lights for the house,” you explained. Another outdoor decoration on a nearby shelf grabbed your attention and you added it to the growing pile.
“The house?” Frankie complained. “I have a bad back.”
“Aw, old man has no mobility?” You consoled him with a pouty lip and a rub between his shoulders. “That’s okay, Santiago seems very nimble.”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed, adding an extra box of lights to the cart dramatically. “Oh I’m plenty nimble, sweetheart. You’re trying to instigate me into climbing a ladder so you can check out my ass all day.”
“What ass?”
“Oh,” he chuckled menacingly. “You’re asking for it, trouble.”
“I would love to continue talking about this, but I need to go sniff every candle in aisle eight.”
“We don’t need any candles, I can tell you like the smell of me just fine by the way I caught you sniffing my blanket like blow last night.”
You left him behind with the cart to follow as you pranced away. “Now I know you’re hearing and seeing things!”
***
It shouldn’t have taken as many hours as it did to decorate the house. The smaller stuff was easy, you and Mags had the living room and bathroom done up to the nines with ornamental snowmen and festive hand soaps before the men even got the tree over the threshold. Pope complained the entire time about the mess the needles were making as they shoved the branches through the front door jamb— and Frankie cursed under his breath when he tripped over the coffee table while attempting to maneuver the damn thing to the perfect spot under your and Magdalena’s dueling direction.
It turns out that Pope was right, the tree was just a tad too tall for the ceiling, and that set in motion a much longer chain of events that included finding a suitable hand saw, which they didn’t own, to hack off the tip of the tree after Frankie tried and failed to strong man the stump with his bare hands and ended up popping a blood vessel instead.
Mr. Barry came in clutch though, lending his own to a pleading Pope over the backyard fence and also offering him a word of advice about keeping a live tree healthy and how often he should water it. When all was said and done they still hadn’t cut enough off the top of the fir to more than clear the ceiling by an inch, thus leaving absolutely no room for the expensive star you’d picked out to top it, but you improvised by tying it to the point with tinsel.
Strangely enough the men did own a staple gun and a few long orange extension cords that came in handy outside as Frankie stubbornly climbed a ladder to the tallest point of the house while Pope held it and coached him across the gutters from below. You and Mags pulled a couple lawn chairs out of their garage and set up camp in the driveway with beers in hand to watch the grumpy shit show unfold, and by some godly entity the lights were in place by the time the sun decided to start creeping below the horizon— leaving just enough time for you to add a finishing touch while the boys went inside to clean up for dinner.
***
“We’re the only house on the block with this many lights up, we’re running more electric than the casino,” Pope mused around a slice of pizza as he ate it over the box.
“But it looks amazing,” Mags complimented. “It’s so home-y and warm in here now. Doesn’t it make you so much more excited for Christmas?”
You had put a holiday music channel on as idle background noise, and a cranberry-orange candle burned in the middle of the coffee table where it sat on a decorative place mat and faux twig holder. It did look amazing. Their house was beautiful on it’s own, but with these classy touches of festive decor it really felt like a place you could relax and enjoy the season, or curl up with a good book. You almost forgot you were in Florida.
“What are we gonna do with that thing?” Frankie pointed at the forgotten heap of mini-tree he’d taken out of the storage closet this morning.
“You know there’s a small-town Oregon tradition with mini-trees called ‘King of the Christmas Tree’ where if you see a house with a little tree in the window, you’re within your right to knock on the door and challenge the owner to a leg wrestle to claim it?”
“That’s fucking insane,” Pope laughed. “People actually did that?”
“I assume,” you shrugged, laughing too. “You guys have the perfect little tree to fight over.”
“Let’s see it boys,” Mags challenged with a devilish smirk. “Who's the Coconut Creek king of the Christmas tree?”
“It’s obviously me, bebita,” Pope kissed Mags on her nose and dusted his hands of pizza crust.
“Oh bullshit, Garcia. You may have some extra meat on your thighs but I’ve got the length.” Frankie hopped off the bar stool he was sitting on and motioned Pope to join him in the center of the living room.
“You’re on Fish, but if I win, the tree is mine and you have to call me King Santi until the ball drops on New Years Eve.”
“And if I win you’ll refer to me as Big Dick Morales everywhere we go for just as long.”
“Charming,” you commented. “Not even a little bit childish.”
The two of them laid down on their backs on the carpet and lifted opposite legs in the air.
“You did say you were wondering what kind of horsepower his legs had,” Mags wiggled her eyebrows at you.
And damn did he deliver.
***
You and Mags went tandem on the dinner dishes while Pope and Frankie turned best three out of five in leg wrestling into best five out of seven like a couple of competitive teenagers. They really were like brothers, you believed every bit of what Frankie had told you about living with Pope as long as he did, they bickered as if they either grew up together or were soulmates in disguise.
“It’s the carpet,” Santiago vied, “I don’t have any traction, my back keeps slipping.”
“Let’s move it to the tile then,” Frankie offered him, shifting himself into the kitchen in the way of you and Magdalena.
The sun had long set on the day by then, and you could see the hue of bright lights from outside bleeding in through the windows and circling the wreath on the door. “Let’s take it outside, actually,” you threw in the proverbial towel for them. “I have one more surprise before you guys both need emergency hip replacements.”
Mags pulled Santiago by his arm out the front door and you could hear his voice carrying away as he turned to her grumbling. “How old does she think we are?”
Frankie hung out in the little doorway between the kitchen and the foyer waiting for you to dry the last of the sink water from your hands on the usable kitchen towels before you joined him.
“The house looks great, O.”
You flushed a bit at the praise. You knew it looked good, but hearing it from Frankie in that grateful tone of his voice warmed your chest and throat. He wasn’t being facetious at all, he genuinely looked out at the candlelit living room with a happy admiration. Like the kind you’d see in a person who forgot what the magic of the holidays could look like. You wondered if your expression mirrored his own.
“Thank you,” you smiled up at him, catching the golden flecks of his brown eyes in a different light as they reflected the warm glow of the room.
He grinned down at you too, then shifted his eyes to look above you both to where a mistletoe now hung from the crown molding on the walk-through that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
“Oh, how’d that get there?” He teased, smirking at the playful roll of your eyes.
“You’re always up to someth—”
You started to speak, but Frankie leaned down and cut your sentence in half with a sweet press of his lips to your own that blindsided you. It was timid and exploratory, like the warm buzz of a first sip of whiskey: the kind that tempted you into drinking a whole lot more, and the soft scrape of his mustache was everything you imagined it would be. You felt yourself tilting your neck to better reach him, dragging a curious palm up his neck that settled on his jaw as you slid your tongue against the seam of his lips asking to be let in.
Instead he pulled away, eyes remaining closed for a prolonged second before he leaned his forehead against yours. “I almost caught you slipping there, didn’t I?” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want me getting any ideas now.”
You hummed in response, recognizing you’d let your very fragile walls down at his first touch, and hardly caring in the moment. “Definitely not.”
“See you outside, trouble,” he left you with a wink, gaping at the back of his head as he skipped out the door.
***
“Alright, what’s this big surprise?” Pope asked as you joined the group outside in the driveway. He was standing with his arm draped over Mag’s shoulders, Frankie next to him with his hands in his pockets.
A breeze had blown in when the sun disappeared and everyone but you was wearing a sweatshirt as if it weren’t still seventy degrees with ninety percent humidity. They would never survive a northwest winter with such thin skin.
“I figured since we’re doing things a little bit differently this year, and you guy’s graciously opened your home to me to Christmas-ify all day long, I’d also add a little bit of a tropical feel to maintain your Floridian integrity.”
“The house is surrounded by palm trees?”
“Technicality,” you waved it off. “Anyways, without further ado—” bending down to the extension cord on the ground, you plugged a smaller wire in your hand into the butt end of it.
“Oh fuck,” Frankie winced on impact.
Above the garage a neon yellow and green pineapple hummed to life from where you had anchored it earlier in the day. It was even brighter than the rest of the colorful Christmas lights the boys had spent all day hanging and Mags snorted out a laugh as her boyfriend and Frankie looked on horrified.
“Bonita, I don’t think you understand—”
“That’s great,” Santiago threw his hands up in exasperation. “Now the neighbors think we’re swingers too.”
-
Thanks for all reading! Let me know what you think!
This fic is part of @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone’s “Aud’s Writing Challenge” aka “The Make Me Horny Challenge”. This is my second entry in this very fun, very hot challenge! Hope you enjoy this one too, Audrey! 😉
It will also cover two of my spaces on my bingo card for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Any Fandom Kink Squares Filled:
Breath Play & Hair Pulling
Pairing: Dean x fem!reader
Word Count: 2,320
Summary: Y/N has wanted him for weeks, but he's ignored her. But her timing might be right tonight.
Warnings: Smut. All Smut. Not even really PWP, there's pretty much no plot here. Dom!Deanmon. Demon!Dean being pretty savage. Dirty talk. Demeaning language. Spanking (just a bit). Fingering. Face fucking. Cumshot (facial). Hair pulling. Breath play.
A/N: Since I can’t include the hot af gif that the beautiful Audrey sent me for this challenge, I have included a gif that relates slightly to this story, namely a gif of Demon!Dean.
But the parts of the fic that directly describe the naughty gif Audrey sent will be in italics.
A/N 2: So this is the first time I've ever written Demon!Dean, and the first time I've ever written anything as dark as this. Dean is not sweet here in any way, he's all Dom!Deanmon, so be warned. Also, please be kind (you always are!) since I've never tried something quite like this before. 😬👀
Rating: 18+ Explicit. Read the warnings!
Created for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Y/N wasn't really sure how she'd ended up here, it had all happened so suddenly and so abruptly. But she definitely didn't want to be anywhere else.
She had been watching him tonight when he walked angrily down the stairs that led from the hotel rooms above. But then, she was always watching him.
The little blonde waitress he'd been screwing around with for a while had come down twenty minutes before him, obviously upset. She left The Black Spur minutes after that.
Now the man Y/N had been quietly stalking for the past two weeks was sitting at the bar and knocking back shots like they were water.
Maybe tonight was her chance.
She had no idea who he was, or why she was so drawn to him. But from the moment he and the short British guy had come in through the doors together weeks ago, she'd wanted him. Desperately.
She'd tried to get his attention a few times, but he never took the bait. She'd sidled up close to him at the bar a couple of times, she'd sent him a drink, she'd worn every low cut top and tight, tiny skirt she owned trying to entice him, but no dice.
Tonight she wore a skin tight, mostly see through white top and a short, pink, flippy skirt that twirled enticingly around the tops of her thighs.
She was determined to get him tonight. She had wet dreams about him night after night, and she felt like if she didn't fuck him, he might haunt her dreams forever.
She took the absence of the blonde waitress as a sign that now was the time to take matters a step further and try initiating an actual conversation with him.
With that as a plan, she approached him at the bar and sat down beside him. As he had every other night, he ignored her completely. She swallowed hard and barreled ahead anyway.
"Looks like you're having a rough night."
The man threw his next shot back and slammed the glass down on the bar, signaling for another. When he still ignored her, she decided to go all in; she laid her hand on his forearm.
The muscles under her hand tensed and the man slowly turned his head, finally making eye contact with her. What she saw in their forest green depths made her shiver. There was something so dark and dangerous there, so beautifully terrifying.
"Excuse me?" He asked, his deep voice intoxicating even in two words. His expression showed mostly disdain, but something in her wouldn't let her back down.
"I was just saying it looked like you were having a rough night."
The man swept his gaze up and down her body, coming back to rest on her face.
"So?" he asked.
"So," Y/N cleared her throat. "I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it."
The man looked at her for nearly a full minute, his eyes once again scanning her body, lingering over some parts, and brushing past others. It was as though he was studying her, dissecting her. It was incredibly unnerving and unbelievably hot.
Finally he licked his lips, an action that had Y/N's panties flooded again. He shook his head.
"No, I don't wanna talk. I wanna fuck."
Y/N's jaw dropped open and her stomach muscles and core muscles tightened.
He lifted his chin toward her and spoke in a nonchalant manner. "Can I fuck you?"
Y/N floundered, her mouth opening and closing several times.
He turned to face her completely and stared into her eyes so deeply, she felt like she'd already been stripped naked by him.
"I don't wanna play the game. I just wanna fuck someone. Hard. So, is that gonna be you, yes or no?"
Y/N snapped her jaw shut and nodded. Without a second's hesitation, he grabbed her hand roughly and pulled her out the door.
He walked very fast and Y/N had a hard time keeping up, but he had a vice-like grip on her wrist and she somehow knew that if she fell, he'd just drag her along behind him. So, she ran quickly, glad she'd worn a pair of pink sneakers rather than heels.
After about a block they reached an empty parking garage. He pulled her after him, towards the end of the lot, where a concrete brick wall stood.
As they reached their destination, he pulled her forward and gave her a slight shove toward the wall.
"Turn around and put your hands on the wall."
When Y/N stood slightly dazed for a moment, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him. Up close he was even more intoxicating, his scent was like a drug and she felt her head swim a little as she looked up into his perfect face.
Perfect even with the sneer that now covered it. "I've seen you, you know. Watching me, drooling over me. I know how hot you are for me." He walked her backwards until he had her pressed up against the cold stone.
He stuck his hand up under her skirt and ran his fingers over her soaked panties. "I know how badly you want me to fuck you. Like a bitch in heat." He fisted his left hand in her hair and yanked it back, causing Y/N to yelp. "So, obey, bitch."
Y/N felt the slick pooling in her panties, and all she could do was nod at him, not able to contradict a single thing he said. She did want him so desperately, she was willing to let him do whatever he wanted to her.
He released her with another small shove.
"Turn. Around." He said, each word precise.
Y/N turned and placed her palms flat on the wall, her breathing shallow and rapid. She felt him come up behind her and grab hold of her hips, slamming her back against the hard cock she could feel through her skirt and his jeans.
His lips fluttered against her neck as he whispered to her. "Are you gonna take this cock? Like a good little whore?"
Y/N whimpered and nodded.
"Say it." he demanded.
"Yes. I'll take your cock. Please." Y/N begged as she pushed her ass back against him. But he just raised her skirt easily and landed a hard slap to her ass.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, whore. Who owns you?" His palm came down again, stinging and shooting heat straight to her core.
Y/N was so desperate for him to touch her, to rub his fingers along her aching cunt, to have him fill her completely with the huge cock she could feel pressed against her, she could barely even understand what he was asking her.
But another hard slap brought enough sharp pain that Y/N was able to form an answer. "You. You own me."
"That's right. You're my good little whore, aren't you?"
Y/N nodded and he slapped the other cheek, hard and heavy. "Say, it bitch! Tell me you're my good little whore."
Y/N sucked in a breath. "I'm a good little whore." Another crack from his massive palm made her amend her words. "I mean, I'm your good little whore."
He ran both his hands over her burning ass cheeks. "That's my good slut. You will obey what I tell you, do you understand?"
Y/N nodded and then quickly answered. "Yes, I understand."
"Good."
At that he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled them back, while pressing his hand into the middle of her back, forcing her to bend, her ass sticking out.
He pushed her flimsy skirt up and merely pushed her thong aside as he drove two fingers into her. Y/N screamed out her pleasure at finally feeling him inside her. "Oh, god! Please, fuck - more, more!"
He pulled his fingers out. "Shut up, slut. You'll take what I give you and you'll take it quietly, you understand?"
Y/N nodded. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, please?"
He kicked her feet apart and pushed three fingers into her body. "Fuck me. My little slut," he said, his voice darkly pleased. "you're dripping onto my hand. Do you know who does that? Greedy little whores."
He crooked his fingers inside her and Y/N bit down on her lip trying desperately not to scream as he pressed repeatedly on the soft spongy spot inside her.
She couldn't contain a deep, harsh moan as her orgasm overtook her. She gritted her teeth, trying hard not to scream and disobey him. But then just as she was coming down he pressed against the spot again, while his thumb circled her clit over and over and her second orgasm hit and she couldn't help the scream that issued from her throat.
His right hand came up and wrapped around her throat, strangling off the scream.
"If you can't shut up, I'll make you shut up."
She felt him line himself up at her entrance before he slammed into her so hard, she lurched forward into the wall, popping him out of her cunt.
He came up right behind her, and rammed himself back in. Bending his knees slightly, he pushed in and out of her quickly, keeping himself pressed up tight against her ass and not pulling out very far before slamming himself home, rocking her body in a continuous, hard and fast rhythm.
He wrapped his left hand further up her throat and squeezed with both hands. Y/N could feel her climax building as the lack of oxygen made dark spots begin to move around the edges of her vision.
Just as she was sure she was going to pass out, he let go and grabbed hold of her hips, pulling out and slamming into her so hard, it felt like he was ripping her apart. The harshness of his thrusts combined with the oxygen returning in a rush to her lungs and brain, gave Y/N the biggest and longest orgasm she'd ever experienced.
She screamed again, and knew she'd pay for it, but she couldn't have stopped it.
As she came down from the high, he spun her around to face him and then pushed her down on her knees. She landed hard on the concrete and felt it scrape her skin.
But she didn't even have time to gasp because the moment her knees hit the ground, he was prying open her jaw and ramming his cock down her throat.
She gagged on it again and again. But he was merciless, he held her head in both his massive hands and wouldn't let her move away.
"Maybe this will shut you up. Huh? Can't talk around my cock in your mouth, can you, bitch?"
Y/N felt the saliva and tears dripping down her cheeks as he pressed deep down the back of her throat, holding her face tight to the base of his cock. Again as her vision began to waver, he pulled out and Y/N coughed and choked as ropey strings of spit and precum kept her mouth connected to his dick.
She pulled in gulping breaths before he pushed himself back in, hitting the back of her throat again and pulling all the way out, slowly.
Y/N swallowed quickly, loving the taste of his saltiness on her tongue. He moved in and out of her mouth a half dozen more times, smoothly and slowly before he pulled out completely.
He twisted her hair in his fist again and pulled it hard, arching her neck and forcing her head back. He smacked his dick against her cheek and then tapped it against her lips.
"Open your mouth, whore. This is what you've been wanting. Take it."
He pumped his cock twice and ropes of hot cum shot across her face, falling into her mouth, where she swallowed it up quickly, licking it from her lips as he yanked her head back again while he pumped his cock with his other hand, his hips bucking, balls slapping against her chin.
With a final groan and a shudder, he let go of Y/N's hair and stepped back.
As she kneeled there, covered in his cum, still shuddering from her own incredible climax, he put his cock back in his pants and pulled them back up over his ass, which was as far as he'd undressed.
Unsure of what else to do, and already missing the fullness of his cock inside her, Y/N stood up and tried to wipe her face off with her shirt the best she could.
He started to walk away and she called out to him.
"Wait! I don't even know your name."
He walked back to her, pushing into her personal space until she was pressed up against the wall again.
His eyes sparkled bright green above her before they blinked black for just a second. Y/N gasped, already sure that it had just been a trick of the dim light of the garage.
"The name is Dean. And it's too bad I didn't pay attention to you till tonight. We could have been having weeks of fun." He sighed. "But now, I gotta leave."
He pressed his plump, soft lips against her neck for a moment before he opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into her skin hard enough that she gasped in pain and could feel a little blood trickle down, staining her white shirt.
Her inner walls clenched at the pain and pleasure his mouth was bringing her. He pulled back and grinned at her expression of ecstasy.
His voice was all gravel and wickedness. "Obviously, I picked the wrong girl to fuck at The Black Spur." With that he patted her cheek and disappeared into the darkness.
Y/N's dreams were never free of the green-eyed man named Dean, and his black-eyed sins. The heat and pleasure of him haunted her all the rest of her days.
This fic will cover two of my spaces on my bingo card for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Any Fandom Kink Squares Filled:
Strip Club AU & College AU
Since neither of those squares is a kink, per se, I've included breast and nipple play in the story so that it still contains a kink. 😉
Pairing: Dean x fem!reader
Word Count: 7, 605
Summary: Y/N is shy and not sure why she agreed to come to a strip club. Can the very hot, green-eyed dancer pull her out of her shell, and out of her clothes?
Warnings: Smut. All Smut. PWP. Breast and nipple play. Stripping. Unprotected sex (wrap it up - fantasy isn't reality!) P in V. Oral (fem receiving)
A/N: This smutty one shot turned out to be pretty long, my apologies, but I hope you'll find it's worth it and...satisfactory. 😉
Rating: 18+ Explicit. Read the warnings!
Created for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Beautiful Divider at the bottom created by @talesmaniac89
"Come on, Y/N!"
Y/N felt a little like she was going to pop a blood vessel from all the noise and lights and peer pressure she was currently experiencing.
Not to mention the giant penis being shaken in her face.
She really didn't want to be here.
Giving in to the peer pressure, Y/N took the twenty dollar bill in her hand (one that didn't come from her wallet, thankfully) and stuck it into the lowered G-string of the hulking man on the stage above her.
The admittedly handsome man blew her a kiss and danced away. Thankfully most of the attention surrounding her left with him and she could breathe a little again.
She had agreed to come out to "Stallions" strip club very reluctantly. She'd never been to one, and now she knew why. It was just so not her scene.
She understood the appeal, the guys were all very muscled and oiled and danced very well. But the continuous high-pitched screaming, the lights zooming around the room, the pound full of glitter that she'd inhaled, and the overt, penis-in-your-face public sexuality wasn't tantalizing to her. It made her incredibly uncomfortable and caused a knot to form in her stomach.
She just wanted to be home, curled up with the only permanent male in her life, her fat, orange tom cat, Mr. Dude.
Maybe she really was pathetic.
That's what Marla had said to get her out here. That she was pathetic and didn't know how to have fun. She'd said it teasingly, but there was a hint of truth to her words, and Marla's eyeroll told Y/N that the older woman may actually be annoyed with how reserved her cousin/roommate was. Even though they were related, the women couldn't be more different and didn't really make for ideal roommates.
Marla was all flash and sizzle, she lived life loud and brash, and never made any apologies for it. And Y/N accepted that and never tried to change her, she just wished Marla could do the same for her.
As she watched her now, Marla was screaming and running her hand up and down the thighs of the stripper in front of her. The dancer took Marla's hand and set it on his rather sizable package as he gyrated his hips into her palm. Marla was in heaven.
As the song ended the room exploded in more screaming and it was all Y/N could do not to cover her ears. She thought that might be just a bit too obvious, illustrating just how miserable she was to be here.
The group of women Marla had brought along with them, none of whom Y/N knew, all left en masse to the bathroom, not even sparing a wave for Y/N.
She was thinking about taking this opportunity to slink out the door (they probably wouldn't even notice she was gone) when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Slightly startled, she turned her head.
And audibly gasped.
The man standing beside her was the most ridiculously handsome man she'd ever seen in real life.
Nope. Ever. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.
He was tall and broad, the muscles in his bare chest and arms were thick and solid. He only wore a pair of jeans, but they encased his muscular thighs and slightly bowed legs perfectly, showing them off rather than concealing them.
But it was his face that had Y/N enthralled and incapable of looking away. He was smiling at her and she felt like she might pass out. His lips were plump, pink, and looked so incredibly soft that they made Y/N's mouth water a little.
His teeth were straight, white and dazzling. He had very pointy eye teeth and they made Y/N think about bitten flesh. Correction. It made her think about this man biting her flesh.
That was not a thing she'd ever thought about before.
His cheekbones were high and wide, his nose straight and perfect, as though a master carver had chiseled away the marble until only perfection was left.
And then there were his eyes. Dear God, his eyes.
They were a bright verdant green, his lashes long and thick, curling upwards. They sparkled as he smiled down at her; his smile was warm and sexy, and melted her into a puddle.
He was saying words. She should really try to figure them out, but she was distracted by the way his tongue swept along his bottom lip.
She shook her head. "Sorry. What?"
His smile deepened and turned a little knowing. It wasn't surprising that he knew the effect he was having on her. Surely she wasn't the first woman this Adonis had left speechless, he was probably used to it by now.
"I was telling you that your friends over there," he pointed in the general direction the other women had headed, "they paid for an hour for you."
Y/N looked wildly behind her trying to see Marla or any of the other women, but they were nowhere to be seen.
She looked back at the unfathomably hot man beside her and frowned. "Paid for an hour of what?"
"Me." he answered. His smile widened and his eyes did a quick sweep of her body that nonetheless made Y/N's heart start slamming against her ribs. "It's a private show."
He held out his hand to her, but she just stared at it, like she didn't recognize what it was.
He dropped it back to his side. "They thought you might be more comfortable away from the crowd." He said, raising his voice when the music started up again for the next dancer coming out. The screaming started up again too, and Y/N just shook her head.
"No. I mean, thank you. But I think I'm going to just head home."
He leaned in close to her and she froze, completely overcome by his scent which was some kind of warm, spicy cologne, that cut through the scents of alcohol and sex that had surrounded her.
He put his lips to her ear so she could hear him over the noise. "Come on, Sweetheart. If you go now, I'm gonna get in trouble."
He pointed toward a woman in a sleek red dress, standing by the bar.
"My boss is going to think you left because you didn't like me. I could get fired."
Y/N frowned. Dammit, she didn't want to get him in trouble. Why, God why, had those women thought this was going to be better? An hour in a secluded back room? At least in a crowd, she could try to melt into the background. Now, she'd be headed to a private room, one-on-one with the sexiest man she'd ever been near.
Everything he did seemed calculated to make her start overheating. Even just the way he leaned close to her, his hand braced against the back of the bench seat she was on. The position caused his bicep and pectoral muscles to flex and shift under smooth, naturally tanned skin. Most of the guys she'd seen tonight looked like they spent hours in a tanning bed or spray tan booth. But this man had a golden glow to his skin that made her imagine him spending hours shirtless in the sun.
Her mind drifted along that beautiful train of thought for a moment until he pulled her back by straightening up and putting his hand out toward her again.
"I'm Dean."
Y/N put her hand in his and tried to act as though shivers weren't racing up her arm as her hand was engulfed in his massive one.
"Y/N." she answered and gasped again as Dean pulled her to her feet with an easy tug. He nodded toward the back of the room.
"So?"
Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. Surely she could manage fifteen minutes or so in his presence, long enough to convince his boss that Dean was doing his job.
She followed him through the labyrinthine tables and chairs and through a thick black curtain. On the other side was a long hallway that had about a dozen doors along it. Dean brought them to one that said "Private # 3" and indicated she should go first through the door.
The room wasn't really what she'd been expecting. She'd thought it would be a little seedy, maybe a bit trashy, all animal prints and sequins.
But it was a medium-sized room with a couple of tasteful leather couches, a table and two chairs, and a counter that doubled as a bar, complete with mini fridge. The only thing in the room that hinted that Dean occasionally took all his clothes off in here, was the small stage in the corner.
Dean led her over to one of the couches and she sat on the very edge, entirely too nervous to relax into the cushion. Dean moved over to a the small liquor station on the counter.
"Can I make you a drink?" He asked, but Y/N shook her head.
"I don't really drink."
Dean nodded and poured himself a tumbler of amber liquid. She had no idea what it was but he took a sip and pursed his lips as he swallowed. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip again, this time going after a stray drop of liquor.
Y/N felt her stomach swoop and she subtly pushed her thighs together.
He turned around and grabbed a long-sleeved plaid shirt that hung over the back of one of the chairs at the table. Before he shrugged the shirt onto his broad shoulders, Y/N caught a glimpse of his beautifully muscled back and round, plump ass.
She knew he was likely putting the shirt on for her benefit, trying to put her more at ease, but she sort of wished he'd left it off for just a little longer. It seemed a shame to cover up the work of art that was his back and backside.
He left the shirt hanging open, so she was still treated to the site of his flat stomach, and smooth chest as he came and sat beside her. He stayed at the edge of the couch as well, so that his body was close enough to hers that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
He took another sip of his drink before he spoke.
"So, Y/N, what do you do?"
Y/N was slightly startled by the mundane question. Although, she wasn't sure what she'd figured he was going to ask as a conversation starter.
What's your favorite sexual position?
Cowgirl.
She answered the imaginary question inside her own mind and then immediately began envisioning herself straddling his lap, grinding down on him, his hands spanning her waist before sliding up and cupping her breasts, squeezing...
"Y/N?" Dean bumped her shoulder gently with his in an attempt to rouse her from her musings long enough to answer his very respectable question.
Y/N shook her head. Jesus! she thought. Get a grip!
"Oh, I'm a student." she managed to get the words out passed her incredibly dry throat. Maybe she should have something to drink. She coughed a little and cleared her throat.
"Do you want a soda?" Dean asked. "There are a couple cans in the fridge."
Y/N nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."
Dean walked over to the mini fridge that was housed under the counter. As he bent over to get the soda, Y/N got a great view of his ass and thighs and all she could do was lick her lips and try to clear her continuously parched throat.
Good God. She desperately wanted to grab a handful of his backside. She shook her head, mortified to realize that she was acting just like the women she'd been judging earlier.
Huh, she thought. Maybe I just didn't meet the right dancer out there.
As Dean walked back towards her, his hips and legs moving him across the room with a self assured swagger, she was suddenly very curious to see him dance. He looked like he might really know what to do with his hips.
When he got back to the couch, he set down an individual plastic glass, like one you'd find in a hotel room, still sealed in plastic, and the closed can of soda.
She realized, as she took the glass out of the wrapping and cracked the drink open to pour it into the glass, that all of this was for her benefit. By letting her open her own drink and pour it into an obviously clean glass, he was letting her feel safe that there was nothing dropped, or going to be dropped, into the drink.
Also, by putting the can on the table beside her, instead of on the low coffee table in front of them both, he kept the glass and can far away from him, as further reassurance for her.
She found the slightly protective action sweet and very endearing.
As he sat back down, he picked up their conversation. "So, what do you take in school?"
Y/N swallowed a sip of the fizzy soda and coughed slightly as she answered.
"Um, I'm in the Masters program at KU, Physics, with a focus on Quantum Physics and the Unified Field Theory."
Dean looked at her, slightly surprised. "Wow. That's..." he shook his head. "Wow."
He was frowning a little and Y/N felt her defenses go up. "What, you think women can't do sciences?"
Dean's head jerked back slightly. "Uh...no. I think I can't do sciences, so it always impresses me when someone else can." He smiled at her and Y/N was immediately contrite.
She smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I get a little defensive." She gave him a sardonic smile. "There are only eight other women in my entire program."
"Wow - that sucks." Dean said, shaking his head. Then he looked back at Y/N and his eyes were full of flirtation. "Huh. Smart and beautiful. That is a deadly combination."
Y/N rolled her eyes but felt herself blush. Flustered, she cleared her throat and asked an incredibly stupid question. "So, what do you do?"
His forehead crinkled and a smirk pulled at his lips. Y/N heard the idiocy of the question almost immediately.
"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I'm..." she hid her face in her hands. "I'm not really good at the whole social interaction thing." she said, her voice muffled by her fingers.
Dean chuckled softly and the huskiness in the sound made Y/N feel slightly light headed.
"No, don't worry about it." He said, settling back on the couch. "I'm a student too, actually."
"Oh! That's great." Y/N said. "Do you go to KU?"
Dean shook his head ruefully. "Hell no. Not smart enough for that." he winked at her and her stomach flip flopped again. God, he was sexy.
"No, I go to Kansas City Community College. I'm studying to become a fire fighter. Halfway through."
Y/N smiled and then giggled, she couldn't help it.
Dean smiled back. "Well, I mean, I know it's no 'Masters in Quantum Physics' at the age of what, twenty-three?" Dean asked, and under his smile she glimpsed just a trace of self-consciousness. She realized that it must seem like she was laughing at him for going to Community College, or maybe laughing at his choice of careers.
She waved her hands. "No, I'm sorry. I think that's amazing. I couldn't imagine a more demanding or important career. Really, that's so great!"
He seemed mollified and smiled easy again. "Then what are you giggling at?"
Y/N tried to suppress her grin. "It's just...you're a stripper...and a fireman...I just feel like there might be some career overlap there."
He broke into hearty laughter and Y/N felt her breath catch. His head was thrown back and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His laugh was rich and warm and Y/N felt her heart get lighter just listening to it.
She settled back on to the couch too, relaxing in spite of herself.
He clapped his hands and and sighed. "Yeah, there are about a dozen guys here who do a fireman routine. There's definitely overlap."
His smile was wide and his eyes were full of warmth and mirth as he looked at her. Somehow they were even more beautiful now.
Y/N tried to get the conversation back on track. "So, you do this," she waved her hand to indicate the room and club in general. "to pay for school."
Dean grinned. "No, I do this for...beer money mostly."
Y/N tried to hide her surprise, feeling that maybe it would be seen as rude. "Oh. Oh, I see."
Dean grinned at her discomfort. "My other job pays for school, I work part time construction." He raised a hand. "I know, another career overlap." He chuckled. "I also got some scholarships."
Y/N nodded. "Oh, that's so cool." She was clearly off kilter a little and finally just shook her head. "Can I ask you a question?"
Dean smiled, already guessing the question. "Sure."
Y/N confirmed his suspicions. "Why do you do this, then, if you don't need the money?"
Dean shrugged and shifted slightly towards her on the couch. "Well," he said, his voice low. "For one thing, I make a lot of tips."
Y/N chuckled. Yeah, I bet. She thought.
Dean continued, "Also, I'm good at it." His gaze heated up a little and his smile softened and became warmer, sexier. "And," he shrugged again. "I like it."
Y/N tried to ignore the way her fingers itched to reach out and trace his bottom lip. Up close she could see a light sprinkle of freckles across his nose and cheeks. She thought that might be the most adorable/sexy thing she'd ever seen. She kind of wanted to lick them.
Tamping down a moan as she saw his eyes flit to her lips, she tried to get back to what he was saying.
"Really?" she asked. "You like it? I would have thought having all those women pawing at you would be, at best annoying, at worst, might make you feel...I don't know...used?"
He raised one eyebrow. "If I like doing it, and I'm paid well for doing it, and I'm doing it of my own freewill, how could I be being used?" He asked logically.
Y/N shook her head. "I never looked at it like that."
Dean shrugged. "Don't worry about it, most people don't."
He moved closer again, so that their knees were touching and he was close enough that when he put his elbow up on the back of the couch Y/N felt a little caged in by it. She was surprised to find she really, really liked the feeling.
With his arm up, his flannel was also pulled open so she could once again see his golden skin and the muscles along his ribcage. She could also see half of his broad chest along with his right nipple, making her want to reach out and flick it. If she was straddling him and starting flicking it and sucking on it, would he like it?
She took a deep shuddery breath. She needed to get it together.
That plan fell out the window with his next words.
His voice was a low rumble. "Besides, I like the connections I can make with people in the audience. Sometimes when I'm onstage I'll zero in on one woman, making eye contact and letting her know I see her. It feels amazing to make her smile, to make her blush, to make her feel beautiful..."
Dean leaned in close, his lips hovering over Y/N's for just a moment, giving her time to move away, before he lowered his mouth over hers. His kiss was all too brief, a mere brush of the lips.
But he wasn't done. "...make her feel desirable..." He pressed his lips to Y/N's again, but firmer this time, sucking gently on her top lip.
"...make her feel wanted." He finished, in a deep-voiced whisper against Y/N's mouth before he cupped her cheeks and tilted her head so he could lick up into her, sucking on her tongue and pulling it into the warm recesses of his own mouth. Y/N moaned unexpectedly and the raggedness in the sound embarrassed her and she pulled away.
Dean accepted her retreat and sat back from her, but didn't move completely back to his side. He was still close enough that Y/N could have easily reached over and continued the kiss. And she was so tempted to do so.
But she didn't. She just sat awkwardly for a moment, talking herself out of it.
"Can I ask you a question?" Dean asked with a smile.
"Sure." Y/N's voice cracked again and she cleared her throat before taking another sip of her drink.
"Why are you here?"
Y/N swallowed, frowning slightly. "Cause my friends paid for -"
Dean laughed, cutting her off. "No. I know why you're here." he said, patting the couch. "Why are you...here?" He asked, moving his hand in an arc to indicate the whole club. "You looked pretty miserable to be here."
Y/N smiled and shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Because I caved to peer pressure at the ripe old age of twenty four."
She frowned, suddenly curious. "How old are you?"
Dean smiled. "Twenty-six. You're way ahead in your schooling, but I'm way behind. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted."
Y/N shrugged. "When you start school isn't important. Time is relative." When Dean looked skeptical Y/N grinned. "Trust me, I'm a scientist."
Dean laughed and Y/N felt it roll over her like a warm blanket. Finally, he brought them back to his question.
"So, you caved to peer pressure at the age of twenty-four. What does that mean?"
Y/N shook her head. "My friend, well cousin, actually, told me I was being pathetic and I should learn to have fun."
Y/N felt herself flush a little as she admitted, "I don't really have a lot of friends, which I realize is just as sad as it sounds." She tried to laugh it off, but it was something she was really self-conscious about.
"I'm your typical science nerd, I guess. Hell, I'm practically a stereotype." She waved a hand toward herself. "I'm tall and gawky, awkward. And I'm just bad at meeting new people."
Dean looked at her, incredulous. "Gawky?"
Y/N nodded.
Dean let out a breath and raked his gaze up and down Y/N's body slowly. "Not exactly how I'd describe you."
Y/N felt her cheeks heat up.
Dean's gaze was soft and warm as he watched her. "You're so beautiful."
Y/N scoffed and looked down at her feet, his praise entirely too much for her.
Dean reached over and trailed his knuckles down Y/N's cheek and across her jaw. "And you look amazing in pink."
Y/N ducked her head and Dean pulled his hand back. Y/N looked up at him, a mischievous grin on her face. "That's quite a line. Is that one of your big moves?"
Dean smiled, slow. His movements were also slow as he shifted himself close enough to put his lips to Y/N's ear, trailing his fingertips down from her shoulder to her elbow and causing her to shiver.
"No, you haven't seen my moves. Yet." He said and the word "yet", spoken deep and delicious against her neck just before he pressed a kiss to the hollow spot just behind her earlobe, brought on another shiver.
He pulled back again though and Y/N had never been more disappointed. Her body was screaming at her to stop teasing and just jump on him, already. But her rational mind held her back.
Dean threw back the rest of his drink, and it suddenly occurred to Y/N that she was obviously having some kind of effect on him as well.
She smiled at this unforeseen development. She'd never really thought of herself as desirable before. She'd slept with a handful of guys, but she'd always just figured their interest in her was more due to availability and proximity than to any kind of unslakeable lust.
She liked the feeling.
They sat in silence for a moment or two and then Y/N heard the song that was playing out front, even muffled as it was through the door, and she let out a happy little gasp of surprise.
"Oh! I love this song!"
Dean listened, trying to identify the song. When he did, he cocked a disbelieving brow.
"Bryan Adams?" He took a second to think of the name of the song. "Is this...what is it, 'Heaven'?" He asked, his face scrunched up in distaste.
Y/N punched his shoulder. "Shut up. This song is a classic."
Dean shook his head. "Yeah, classically lame."
Y/N shoved him this time. "How dare you?" she asked in mock outrage. "I'll have you know this was the first song I ever slow danced to. It holds a special place in my heart forever."
Y/N raised her chin and theatrically placed both hands over her heart.
Dean chuckled. "Oh, well then, my apologies. I never meant to belittle your first dance." He grinned. "Who was your partner in that first slow dance?"
Y/N grinned back. "Bradley Smythe."
Dean's eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew. "Wow. That is quite the name. Was he part of a royal family?"
Y/N shook her head, laughing. "His dad owned laundromats."
Dean pushed his lips out . "Well, king of the laundry."
Y/N smiled wide at the memory of the school dance. "It was seventh grade and he was very dreamy. He had floppy hair and a puka shell necklace."
Dean laughed out loud. "What a stud."
Y/N joined in the laughter, the memory a happy, sweet one. There weren't a lot of those for her in school since she had been about as popular as one might expect a shy, science-y girl to be.
Their laughter died down and suddenly Dean stood up and reached his hand out toward her.
Dean's eyes turned pleading. "Come on! I mean, I don't have time to grow my hair out," he said pushing a hand through his short, light brown hair. "But, I'm pretty sure if I looked hard enough I could find a puka shell necklace around her somewhere."
Y/N giggled. "No, no, that's fine. But..."
Dean pouted, and it was about the sexiest fucking thing Y/N had ever seen. It was also her undoing.
"Please?" he cajoled. "The song's half over already, so it won't be a long dance."
Sighing, she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.
He placed his hands on her waist, arms completely straight as he stood a good two feet away from her, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. "Does this seem like a good representation of the seventh grade dance technique."
Y/N laughed and put her hands on his shoulders, shuffling back and forth with him. She squinted as though thinking it over before nodding. "Yeah...yes. This feels about right."
She chuckled, a sound that turned into a breathless gasp as Dean pulled her up against him, slipping his right hand around to her lower back, and sliding it just under the hem of her t-shirt, so that she felt the warmth of it on her skin.
He took her right hand off his shoulder, surrounding it completely in his massive left hand, and tucking it up against his chest.
"I like my technique better." Dean said.
She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted, desire evident in every line of her face. "So do I."
Dean began swaying to the rhythm of the song, pulling her along with him, splaying his long, thick fingers across the small of her back so that he could guide her movements, and press her against him as they moved together.
As they danced, Dean sang softly in Y/N's ear.
Baby, you're all that I want
When you're lyin' here in my arms
I'm findin' it hard to believe
We're in heaven
Dean wasn't a great singer, but he was decent and the lyrics, combined with the soft, deep, gravelly voice he used to sing them, his lips hovering just over the pulse point in her neck, was enough to make Y/N's panties even wetter than they already were.
"I thought you said this song was lame." Y/N said, her voice raspy with need. Her mind was swimming, every nerve in her body on fire for his touch. "Yet, somehow you know the lyrics."
She felt him smile against her neck before attaching his lips to her skin and sucking a bruise into it. Y/N tilted her head back to give him better access and Dean groaned deeply, the sound shooting straight to her core.
He dropped his hands to cup the globes of her ass through her jeans and pressed her against him, tightly enough that she could feel the size and hardness of him even through their layers of clothes.
Y/N took hold of his face in her hands, pulling him up from the sinful attention he was giving her neck, so that he was looking at her. She brought his lips to hers and sighed into his mouth as he took over the kiss, delving his tongue deeply into her.
Y/N moaned and fisted the open sides of his shirt, pulling him closer. But Dean pulled away from the kiss suddenly, taking deep breaths.
"I have a confession to make." He said his voice husky with desire.
Y/N looked at him through a haze of heat and wanting, trying to focus on what he was saying. "What confession?" she asked, not really caring. He could confess to being the Zodiac killer and she might not care at this point, she wanted him so badly.
He looked seriously in her eyes though. "I lied."
Y/N frowned, questioning.
He smiled sheepishly and shrugged a shoulder. "You're friends never paid me for anything."
"What?"
"I saw you sitting out there and you were so unbelievably beautiful and looked so miserable, I just really wanted to get you out of there, so I told you I'd been paid to give you a private show." He grinned, clearly not overly repentant. "But I was the one who wanted to give you a private show."
Y/N stared, flabbergasted.
"Forgive me?" he asked.
Y/N's answer was to push him back down onto the couch and straddle him.
Dean chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."
Y/N nodded. "Yes, forgiven." She breathed out as she pushed Dean's plaid, flannel shirt off his shoulders. She ran her hands down his chest and stomach.
Deciding to test out her earlier theory, she pinched his nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Dean sucked in a breath and bit into his bottom lip. Encouraged Y/N leaned down and sank her teeth gently into the fleshy nub.
Dean growled and rocked his hips up into her. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her, slamming her back down and dragging her along the bulge behind his zipper.
Y/N let out a low cry, fire racing across her skin. She reached for Dean's zipper and tugged, while Dean pulled her t-shirt over her head and buried his face in her cleavage, kissing and nipping her skin as he palmed her breasts through her black, lacy bra.
Y/N reached into Dean's open zipper and ran her hand up the bulge in his underwear. God, he was huge. And thick. Y/N felt her mouth water as she thought about what she'd do to him when she got his cock free of it's confines.
As she started tugging at his jeans and underwear trying to encourage Dean to lift his hips so she could slide them off, Dean groaned and grabbed her wrists.
"Wait, wait...Y/N..." He was breathing hard and ragged, chest rising and falling as though he'd run a mile. "Just...let's take a second."
Y/N shook her head. "Why?"
Dean smiled as he let his head fall back onto the couch. His neck was exposed and as he swallowed, the column of his throat moved under his skin, and Y/N wanted to lick all the way up it and then nibble on the sharp corner of his jaw. But she respected Dean's request to press pause.
He brought his head back up and rubbed his hand down his face. "I just wanna slow down a little."
Y/N shrugged. She felt a little awkward now as she sat on his lap so she started to shuffle off. But Dean moved his hands back to her hips again and held her still.
"Where are you going?" he asked as he gripped her tightly.
Y/N frowned at him. "I'm...you just said..."
Dean moved his hands from where they sat on her hips, and ran them up her back, locking her in an embrace and pressing her against his chest.
"I said I wanted to slow down. I didn't say I wanted to stop." He reached his mouth up to her neck.
He began tracing patterns there with his tongue, swirling it in the hollow at the base of her throat before closing his mouth over her collarbone and sucking hard.
Y/N let out a moan and pushed her fingers through his incredibly soft hair.
He licked at the bruise he left on her skin before looking up at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with want.
"I just wanna savor you. I don't wanna rush and miss any part of you."
Y/N shuddered at his words and an idea formed in her mind. She wondered if she was brave enough to try it. Looking down at the raw need on his face, the desire he had for her, she decided she was.
She kissed him hard and fast and then pushed on his arms to get him to let go.
When he did she scooted off of his lap before he could grab her back. He scowled, opening his mouth, probably to reassure her again, that he didn't actually want to stop.
But she raised her finger. "Just give me a minute." she said, her smile shy and yet mischievous.
Once he realized she wasn't about to flee, Dean smiled slowly and leaned back against the couch once again.
Julie pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and searched out the song she was looking for. When she found it, she pressed play and set her phone down on the coffee table. Wicked Game by Chris Isaak began as Y/N walked the few feet to the stage in the corner and stepped up.
The discordant, crying guitar in the song raised goosebumps on Y/N's skin as her nerves tried to get the best of her.
But she took a deep breath and with her back to Dean so she didn't have to see him watching her, she began to sway her hips to the low, seductive, voice of Chris Isaak.
The world was on fire and no one could save me but you
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
Y/N let her mind go blank, forcing down all her insecurities and just listening to the lyrics and thinking about Dean's hands on her skin as she ran her own over her hips and ass. As the high falsetto of the chorus kicked in, Y/N turned to face Dean, risking a glance at him.
She felt like an electric shock ran straight to her core, making her inner walls clench around nothing, as she saw the look on his face as he watched her.
She'd never had anyone want her that way, so nakedly, so obviously starving for her. Usually her encounters with men were quick and she tried not to spend any time thinking about what they were thinking because inevitably her anxieties and insecurities about herself would rear up and ruin the sex immediately.
But there was something about Dean that made her feel brave, feel as though she was safe with him. With him she felt she could expose herself for real, allow herself to be sexy and sexual, and he would never mock her for it, or make her feel like anything less than a goddess.
She felt like that now, as she reached behind her to unhook her bra. She wrapped an arm around her breasts, holding the bra in place even as she slid the straps down her arms.
Eventually she let the garment fall to the ground and pushed her breasts together with her hands, kneading them before releasing them with a small bounce as she pushed her hands south down her body, over her stomach and over the front of her jeans. She undid the button on her waistband and slowly inched her zipper down.
She peeked up from under her lashes to see Dean had begun to run his big hand down the front of his jeans, rubbing himself as she stripped.
She felt more wetness pool in her panties as she saw him pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it before letting it slowly slip out, sinking his sharp white teeth into it.
She turned away from him again as she began to inch her jeans down her hips slowly. As they slid down her thighs, she bent over, exposing her panty covered pussy as she stepped out of them.
And I don't wanna fall in love
No, I don't wanna fall in love
With you
When she straightened up and turned back around she gasped. Silently, Dean had approached the stage so that he was less than a foot away from her.
She approached the edge of the stage, her hips continuing to sway in time to the slow, melodic rhythm of the music.
She put her hands on her hips, intending to push her panties down, but Dean reached up and pushed her hands away. He grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the stage before looking up at her as he yanked down her panties.
With her on the stage, she was the perfect height for his mouth to immediately sink into her slick folds. His blunt fingers pressed into the fleshiness of her ass and he held her in place on his mouth plunging his tongue up into her.
She tried to keep her balance with one hand on his shoulder and one hand fisted in his short hair but it was no easy feat and as he sucked her clit into his mouth and began to flick his tongue across it, she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Dean gripped her more tightly in his big hands, not letting her fall as he continued to suck and lick at her pussy.
Y/N's first orgasm ripped through her almost unexpectedly. She could feel it building slowly, but then Dean did something with his tongue inside her that she couldn't possibly have described, but it caused her inner muscles to clench and shockwaves of pleasure to burst over her skin.
Dean kept his mouth where it was, milking her climax as long as possible and happily lapping up the evidence. As she came down from it and the song drew to a close, Dean wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her down off the stage.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he kissed her, wet and hot, and she could taste herself on his lips.
He lowered her to the couch; the leather was cold on her burning skin as he stepped away from her.
Now that Wicked Game had ended and the room was quiet again, they could hear Cherry Pie by Warrant playing in the front of the club. Dean grinned wide as he stepped back a bit and began to roll his hips in sync with the song.
Y/N watched, completely enraptured as he ran a wide, flat palm down his torso and into the front of his open jeans. He bucked up into his hand as the drums in the song kicked up, keeping perfect rhythm.
He pulled his hand out of his jeans and looped his thumbs into his belt loops. As he continued to roll his body, his stomach muscles flexing, he peeled his jeans down over his hips and thighs, exposing the powerful muscles she'd known were hidden under the denim.
Finally, he pulled his boxer briefs down while he moved in a slow circle timing it so that his back was to her just as his briefs slipped over his plump ass, giving her the view she'd wanted. His broad, muscled back tapered down to his waist where two little dimples sat just above the beautiful curve of his ass.
Y/N made a mental note to explore those dimples more later. But as he turned to face her she was distracted from her thoughts of dipping her tongue into the indentations.
He pulled his briefs all the way down in the front and his cock slapped against his stomach, rock hard and leaking precum. He kicked off his jeans and underwear and walked back to where she was still laying on the couch. He sat down and reached over to pull Y/N up so she could once again straddle his lap.
She lined herself up and sank slowly onto his cock. She could feel him stretching her and hissed at the pleasurable burn. When she'd taken all of him and was sitting flush against his thighs she groaned deeply.
Dean reached up and pinched her nipples between his strong fingers, before pulling on them roughly. The tug caused her inner walls to clench tightly around his cock and Dean smiled at her unintentional physical response.
He pinched her nipple again, this time holding on to it and rapidly moving his wrist up and down so that weight of her breast caused a very pleasurable pull against his grip.
He pinched her nipple once more, pressing his blunt thumbnail into it before he let it go. Then he reached out with his fingertips and gave a small stinging slap to the side of her breast.
Y/N let out a deep groan and unconsciously ground down hard onto his cock. Dean was breathing hard as he licked the fingers on his other hand and delivered another slap the other breast, this one causing a sharper sting with his wet fingers. Y/N scored her nails down his chest in response.
She was surprised, having never had any idea she would enjoy having her tits slapped. Dean pulled her nipple into his mouth and bit down, not hard, but hard enough that she felt the jolt through her whole body. He then took more of her breast into the warm, wet recesses of his mouth and sucked on it hard and deep and Y/N plunged her hands into his hair and pulled roughly as her cunt clenched around him.
Her breast fell from his mouth as he grunted harshly. He picked Y/N up and slammed her back down on him, rutting up into her. She screamed out a moan as the tip of his long, thick cock dragged across her g-spot before it slammed into her cervix.
Their bodies were both slick with sweat as Dean lifted her a half a dozen more times, Y/N helping by grasping onto his shoulders and riding him, swiveling her hips every time her ass slapped against his thighs.
Y/N's second orgasm was a much longer one, she could feel it coming and obviously so could Dean because he purposefully slowed everything down, making her whimper as she tried to rock her hips against him, but he held her tight, fingers bruising her hips.
He reached between their bodies and pressed his thumb to her clit, circling it slowly, controlling the speed at which she would get off.
"Take your time, Sweetheart." He said, his voice all grit and heat. "We're in no rush here."
But Y/N was impatient as she slanted her mouth over his and rubbed her tongue against his, trying to coax him into going faster.
She felt the coil inside tightening and tightening. Finally it snapped and she threw her head back shouting out her pleasure.
"Fuck, Dean! Oh, God - fuck!" she cried.
Dean let go of her hips then and allowed her to ride him through her climax and into his own. With a last powerful thrust upwards, Dean simply shouted, "Fuck!" and Y/N felt him shoot up into her.
She fell against his chest, shaking from the strength of her orgasm, her cunt still rippling with after shocks.
As their breathing normalized Y/N began to shiver in earnest, the sweat on her body evaporating and making her cold. Dean reached down and grabbed his flannel shirt from where it had landed on the floor.
Not willing to let her go yet, he stayed inside her and simply wrapped the shirt over Y/N's shoulders and pulled her tighter against his warm body. Y/N was quite content and snuggled into his chest.
Dean hummed in satisfaction as he ran his hands up and down her back. "That was a hell of a show, Sweetheart. If the scientist thing doesn't work out, you might have a career as a stripper."
Y/N laughed softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.
This fic is part of @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone's "Aud's Writing Challenge" aka "The Make Me Horny Challenge". I hope I have achieved that goal, Audrey!! 😉
It will also cover two of my spaces on my bingo card for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Any Fandom Kink Squares Filled:
Only One Bed & Free Space (Cumming untouched.)
Pairing: Dean x fem!reader
Word Count: 2,455
Summary: Y/N can't tell Dean how much she wants him, but maybe he'll hear her anyway.
Warnings: Smut. All Smut. PWP. (very little plot in the porn here!) The very tiniest dollops of fluff at the end. Dream sex, Cumming untouched, Lots of dirty talk, Multiple Orgasms, A Smidge of Dom!Dean, Fingering, P in V. Oral (f/m receiving)
A/N: Since I can't include the hot af gif that the beautiful Audrey sent me for this challenge, I have included a pic that relates slightly to this story, namely Dean Winchester's hands. (This pic came from Google and I think it's a promo shot, but I can't find the OP.)
But the part of the fic that directly describes the naughty gif Audrey sent will be in italics.
Rating: 18+ Explicit. Read the warnings!
Created for @anyfandomkinkbingo
She woke up on a moan. Her eyes shot open and she wasn't sure if the sound had only been in her head or if she'd actually uttered it out loud. Y/N didn't have to wait long to find out. From beside her came a deep voice, full of mischief.
"Good dream, Sweetheart?"
Y/N could feel her face flooding with color and blessed the middle-of-the-night darkness of the motel room.
"What do you mean?" she asked, voice squeaky and completely unconvincing.
She heard a low, rumbling chuckle and the sound stirred a swarm of butterflies in her lower belly.
"You were making very...satisfied noises."
"Oh, god!" Y/N whispered under her breath as she slapped both her hands to her face, covering her embarrassment.
Of course her most erotic dreams would come to her subconscious mind when she was lying right next to the star of them.
Maybe it's his scent, Y/N thought, invading my brain while I sleep. He was so close to her on the very small double bed they were sharing that his spicy, woodsy scent just took over her senses.
When they'd pulled into the motel, all of them exhausted from their latest hunt, all she'd wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on. There was only one room available, so they took it.
One room. Two beds. Three people.
She turned her head and looked at Sam on the other bed. His insanely long limbs and tendency to sprawl out like a starfish, as he was currently doing, had made sleeping beside Dean seem like the better option.
Turns out it was the very stupid option. Y/N thought, mentally kicking herself.
She'd worked her first case with the Winchesters about three years before. The two brothers were both funny and sweet, and of course, incredible hunters. So, she'd been happy to work with them from time to time.
But they found that the three of them made a pretty great team, so by this point, they were working most cases together. Unfortunately more and more often of late, she found herself struggling any time she worked a case with them. Because over the last year, her attraction to the older Winchester had started to get out of hand.
In the beginning of their friendship she'd thought nothing of it. She was pretty sure there wasn't a person alive who didn't lust, at least a little bit, after Dean Winchester.
The man was sex on legs, with his swagger, his smile - both his happy, thousand watt smile and the roguish, sexy one that made it clear where his dirty mind was traveling. His hunter's body was strong and solid, his wide shoulders and muscular thighs just begging her to climb on and ride.
So, her initial attraction wasn't surprising, however, as her time with the Winchesters grew, so did her need for the green-eyed hunter. She was constantly daydreaming and fantasizing about him. It was wholly inconvenient.
Increasingly she caught herself thinking about his hands. Scratch that, increasingly she found herself staring at his hands. They were big and wide, his fingers blunt-tipped and thick. His knuckles were round and rough, and his palms were callused and spread fire whenever he touched her, however fleetingly.
She fantasized entirely too much about how his fingers would feel inside her, moving in and out of her body, pressing in all the right places to make her scream his name.
It was like a sickness. It was to the point now that his voice alone was often enough to soak her panties through.
A few weeks before, she'd dozed off in the bunker, sitting in the library with the boys. It was a fitful kind of sleep, the kind where you pull in pieces from the reality around you. Dean sat beside her, speaking quietly to Sam, his voice a rumble in her mind. She couldn't remember every detail of the dream that resulted, but she knew that his voice had featured heavily. His voice and a lot of dirty words.
She'd woken up startled that time too, when Dean leaned close to her, gently calling her name to wake her. She remembered fearing that she'd been moaning out loud then too, and being eternally grateful she hadn't, or at least it seemed to go unnoticed.
Now here she was again, only this time, there was no doubt that her subconscious thoughts and fantasies had manifested themselves in the real world in the form of moans and groans. Sounds that had Dean grinning beside her as she glanced at him from under her hands.
"Hey, sorry. I was just..."
"Dreaming about me." Dean said, his voice teasing.
"What? No!" she said, panicked. She lowered her voice, trying not to wake Sam across the room. She tried for a tone of sarcasm. "That sounds like your dreams, Winchester, not mine."
"Really?" He dipped his head down and pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. She couldn't suppress the flush across her skin, or the tremble his words brought. "Cause it's not often, in my dreams, that I call out, 'Dean, harder, faster..." His voice dropped even lower, ragged with heat. "...break me, Dean, break me."
His words made her shake, and brought back to her mind the events of this latest dream, and how Dean had her bent over the table of this very motel room, slamming into her so hard the table had been chipping the paint where it crashed against it.
Having absolutely no idea how to proceed she just laid there, quivering as Dean sidled up closer to her.
"Do you want me, Y/N?" Dean asked, his voice sliding into her ear, silky and hot. "If it's just a dream, I'll leave you alone. But if it's more...is it more?"
Y/N didn't know what to say, she wanted to shout out that yes, it was so much more than a dream, she wanted him real and hard and scorching beneath her hands.
But she was frozen. Fear of opening herself up in that way to him, being vulnerable and sharing her fantasies scared her. What if the intensity of her desire for him freaked him out and he bolted? She'd lose two of her closest friends and the only other hunters she'd ever completely trusted to have her back.
She turned to look at Dean. "I...don't...I mean...I want..." She wanted to smack herself and make her words come out properly.
Dean smiled softly at her. "Should I tell you what I dream about?"
Y/N nodded.
Dean leaned in and pressed his lips against her ear once again. "I dream about you, Y/N. I dream about you all the time. I dream of you sitting on my bed, waiting for me. Dressed in something lacy, tight, and easily ripped off of you. I dream of your mouth, your perfect lips wrapped around my cock."
Y/N whimpered and Dean continued, obviously encouraged.
"I dream of fucking that beautiful mouth, pushing so far down your throat I can feel you swallow. I dream of coating you in my cum, claiming you, making you mine."
Y/N could feel her slick leaking out of her and soaking the sheets beneath her. She squeezed her legs together, desperate for friction and movement.
"I dream of laying beside you, just like this. I dream of reaching between your heavenly thighs and finding you dripping for me. Are you dripping, Y/N?"
Y/N nodded, not caring what she was risking anymore. She was desperate for him, craving him like water in a desert.
Dean's voice was causing Y/N's core to flutter, his words making her cunt clench around nothing. She knew she was so close to flying away on wings of fire.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N? Do you want me to bury myself deep inside you? Do you want me to wreck you, break you?"
It was the words from her dream that sent Y/N over the edge. She would have woken Sam she was sure, if Dean hadn't clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling her shout of ecstasy. He kept it there as her muscles convulsed, and her body shook from her climax.
She had never come just from someone talking to her, not even laying a finger on her. She looked up into Dean's eyes and felt her skin start to heat up again, just from the look of hard desire she found there.
Without saying anything he grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed with him. They went into the bathroom and Y/N blinked rapidly, the sudden light harsh in her eyes, even if it was only one yellow bulb lighting it up. He turned the shower on and Y/N wondered if planned on them getting in together. But he turned back to her and spoke quietly.
"Sam sleeps like the dead, but a little white noise is probably a good idea."
She nodded, still not speaking much. Dean reached for her t-shirt to pull it over her head but stopped. He looked at her, the tension in his body obvious in the prominent, corded muscles that stood out on his neck and heat that radiated off of him.
"Is this okay, Y/N? I mean we can stop if you want."
In answer Y/N pulled her own t-shirt off, loving the way Dean's pupils dilated, nearly obliterating the emerald green around it.
"I do want you, Dean. I want you to fuck me, I want you to break me."
With a low growl, Dean leaned down and yanked off her pajama shorts. She wore nothing beneath.
Dean kicked her feet apart before dropping to his knees in front of her. He grabbed hold of her hips, blunt fingernails denting into the fleshiness of her ass. He pulled her to his mouth and started to immediately suck on her clit, pulling the little nub into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it.
His mouth was liquid fire against her overly sensitive skin He licked his wide tongue through her soaking wet folds and she was suddenly thankful he had hold of her hips because her knees were buckling, her legs shaky and completely unreliable.
As she could feel herself cresting, she knew that two more swirls of his tongue would do it. So when he pulled away from her with a very indecent slurping sound, Y/N let out a cry of frustration.
Dean pulled her down to lay beside him on the tile floor. She shivered when her heated flesh pressed against the cold ceramic. Dean pulled her towards him, slightly on top of him so that his fully clothed body could act as a slight barrier to the chill of the floor.
He pulled her left leg over his hip, stretching her wide and giving him easy access to her cunt. His hand slid down over her stomach, coming to rest against the strip of groomed hair that covered her. With his pointer finger and ring finger he spread her open so that her clit was exposed. He brought his thick, hard middle finger down to tap against it, covering her mouth with his other hand as she cried out.
"Shh..." he whispered in her ear. "I'll have to stop if you can't be quiet." He tapped her clit again and her hips reared up, seeking more. "Do you want me to stop?"
Y/N shook her head vehemently. God if he stopped now, she'd just burn into a pile of ash.
"So, can you be quiet then?" Dean asked. Y/N nodded.
"Good girl." He said, his voice low and wicked as he removed his hand from her mouth.
He put his three fingers close together again and pressed them all tight against her cunt, making small circles, that increased in pressure with each rotation. She knew she was so close to her second orgasm, she just needed something a little more.
She got it when Dean slid his thick middle finger deep inside her and crooked it, immediately finding her g-spot and brushing over it while Y/N exploded. She clutched Dean's thick wrist, holding him in place and actually grabbed on to his other hand and covered her own mouth with it, not sure she could contain the sounds of her bliss.
She rode his hand as wave after wave of molten ecstasy poured over her. Just as she would start to come down, Dean would press his fingers to the spongy area deep inside her and a third and fourth orgasm hit her. He added another finger and she welcomed the fuller feeling.
As he pulled his fingers out of her he lifted her limp form up and pushed her over the side of the bathtub. She braced her hands against the bottom of the tub and bit down on her lip as he knelt on one knee behind her and lined himself up with her entrance.
"This is where I break you. Fall apart for me one more time, Sweetheart."
With that he rammed himself so deep inside her Y/N felt truly split in two, in the best possible way. He slipped his hand around her to palm her breast, pinching her nipple while he leaned over her and bit down on her shoulder.
The bite sent her over the edge again, and Dean rammed into her a dozen more times as she clenched around him. Finally with a shout of his own Dean exploded inside her, filling her so much, their mingled juices dripped out of her and down her legs.
Their breathing was ragged as Dean fell down beside her, leaning his back against the tub. He pulled Y/N with him so that she sat in his lap. He had only pulled down his pajama bottoms, so he was just readjusting them to cover his ass against the tile, when a pounding at the bathroom door made them both jump.
"For Christ's sake you two," Sam's voice carried loudly even over the rush of the water from the shower, "finish your friggin shower sex - it's about fuckin' time, by the way - cause some of us have to take a leak!"
Y/N buried her face in Dean's neck embarrassed, but not really bothered that Sam had caught them. Maybe the next time they'd have their own room and she could be as loud as she wanted.
Dean pulled her head out from under his chin and pressed a slow, sweet kiss against her lips.
"So, once Sam is done in here, we should definitely do the shower sex thing. And then tomorrow evening, we should go on a date. What do you think?"
Y/N beamed at him. "You read my mind."
@akshi8278, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @foxyjwls007, @b3autyfuldisast3r, @myloversgone, @kazsrm67, @fangirlxwrites67, @kickingitwithkirk, @charred-angelwings, @hopefuldreamers-world, @siospins, @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp, @my-sherlock221b, @jensensgotyoudean @lyarr24, @snowlovespie, @stixnstripesworld, @thoughts-and-funnies, @magssteenkamp, @norman1967, @princessmisery666
If your name is bolded and struck through, it's because I couldn't tag you for some reason. ☹
Hey everyone - just updating my tag lists to make sure everyone who wants to be on is on and that I am not accidentally adding someone who doesn't want to be here.
My very sincere apologies if I've added you by mistake or forgotten to add you. I am VERY organized except for when I'm not - which only happens on the days where I open my eyes. 😉
So, if you want to be added just either reblog or comment with your choice from those below.
1. Dean Fics
2. Dean/Supernatural Fan Video/Edit
3. Both
I may expand who I write for at some point as well, but for right now it's just Dean.
Current Tag List under the cut.
This is my current tag list - so far everyone has chosen 3. Both.
Summary: Rick Grimes’ oldest daughter, Callie, catches the eye of Negan during his first unannounced visit to Alexandria. She thinks he’s screwing with her dad’s mind when he says if she’d been negotiating the night Glenn and Abe died, their group would have had better odds. During the second visit, when he brings back Carl, she wonders if it’s possible. Could she actually be the key to bring Alexandria and the Saviors from the brink of war? Is she willing to?
COMPLETE
A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Elara Mallick/Negan:
ON HOLD ~ ALL INCOMPLETE TWD STORIES ARE ON A TEMPORARY (FOR NOW) HOLD. AFTER WATCHING THE SECOND EPISODE OF THE NEW SEASON MY MUSE DRIED ALL THE WAY UP AND I CANNOT PROMISE IT WILL COME BACK. APOLOGIES.
Elara Mallick wanders between worlds, territories, communities. She doesn’t trust, she doesn’t join. She stays apart. Safe, but lonely. Quiet, but without companionship.
She’s watched them, the group that prides itself on living as animals would. Whispering. Wearing skins, human skins. She keeps to the fringes, away from their notice.
As she sits, writing, keeping track, she’s interrupted by more noise than she’s ever heard among their trees. And it goes on and on and on…Who is HE? And why can’t they STOP him from making that infernal racket?
SILENCE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Jessi Grimes/Daryl Dixon; Jessi Grimes/Negan:
*HEAVY WARNING ANGST RIDDEN, MENTAL ILLNESS STRUGGLES, AND EVENTUAL MISCARRIAGE*
This story will go step by step through the television series with slight AU as warranted by the addition of Rick’s daughter to the story.
Summary: Jessica Grimes, the oldest daughter of Rick Grimes, is dealing with the apocalypse as well as any Grimes can. From the Atlanta group, to Alexandria, this is how Jessi managed to make the time go by. Right up until they meet the spawn of Satan, otherwise known as Negan. What would you do to save your family? Would you make a deal with the Devil?
The Deal COMPLETE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Amara/Negan:
Summary: Amara Kendall is an 18 year old senior who is ready for her final year of high school. On her very first day of her final year she learns that Coach Negan has given her an incomplete on her second required year of PE. A repeat of hell is not what she signed up for, but then again, neither is what she ends up with…Not that she’s complaining…Anymore at least.
Put Me In Coach COMPLETE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Evie/Negan:
A Ride With Negan COMPLETE
Summary: Negan’s escaped his cell. I’ve gone to find him, hoping that he won’t be a huge pain in my ass. I’m going to have to have a LONG talk with my niece about letting him go, right after I make sure Negan gets back in his cage safe and sound…eventually.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Never Have I Ever COMPLETE
Summary: Negan’s brought Evelyn Grimes back to the Sanctuary along with Daryl. While Daryl is who knew where, Evie plays a game with Negan…But just who is going to win? And what constitutes a win?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Negan/Mina:
Survival of the Fittest
COMPLETE
Summary: After Lucille, before the Sanctuary Negan has to truly become a leader.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Negan/Megan:
Takes One To Know One
ON HOLD ~ ALL INCOMPLETE TWD STORIES ARE ON A TEMPORARY (FOR NOW) HOLD. AFTER WATCHING THE SECOND EPISODE OF THE NEW SEASON MY MUSE DRIED ALL THE WAY UP AND I CANNOT PROMISE IT WILL COME BACK. APOLOGIES.
Summary: Girl meets boy. Alright, woman meets man, but man happens to be a HELL of a lot like woman. To the point that it might be a little disconcerting. Buckle up, boys and girls, this might make for a bumpy fucking ride.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Supernatural
Love the One You’re With?
Summary: Seeing the Winchesters didn’t happen often, but when you did it was well worth the cost of admission. To get the one you want, you have to love the one you’re with, especially if the one you want happens to be awake at the time.Warning: There is the use of the word “daddy” but NOT in that context. Not kink shaming, just want to be sure that you get what you pay for here.
Dr. Tali Sullivan COMPLETE
Summary: Dr. Tali Sullivan has known the Winchesters since she was a child. When she looks up from her podium during class and sees John Winchester staring back she knows her teenage crush on the patriarch isn’t gone. Little does she know just how far she’s fallen, or what lengths she’ll go to bring him back.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Hellfire and Angelic Grace
Summary: Crowley, King of Hell is well known to the Winchesters. How will they take it when he asks them to protect a young woman who is like catnip to dark and light? What if he tells the truth, no deal necessary, that this young woman isn’t just special, but his daughter? The product of a union so forbidden that there wasn’t a name for what she was. Supernatural AU
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
The Love of Two Hunters
Summary: My name is Parisa Singer-Allison. I’m Bobby Singer’s adult daughter. A daughter that none of his associates know about, a daughter that NO ONE knows about if I’m being honest. I’ve lived with my maternal grandparents since birth, finally having visits during the summer when I was toddler age. I’m one of the reasons Dad prefers to have some warning about expected guests. I’m the reason there are rooms in his house that are kept locked, some from me, others from everyone else.Dad is the first hunter who loved me (ew, not that way, perverts), but he thought I didn’t know he was a hunter. I probably wouldn’t have known, but while working toward my Master’s in a town far away from Dad’s, I met another hunter. John Winchester. And, boy did I learn a few things about the world that my dad only hinted at. From him I realized that the warning Dad always gave me about what lurks in the darkness was a real warning. From him I learned that my world would always involve hunters, and hunting regardless of Dad’s carefulness. From him I learned that I’d be loved by a second hunter.Now, my two hunters, and my two worlds are colliding. How will I tell Dad that his friend is a man who captured my heart?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
MAGIC CITY
IKE EVANS/LIZ DIAMOND
DIAMONDS ARE A BOY’S BEST FRIEND
Summary: Ben Diamond had kept his daughter Elizabeth far away from the taint of his world. She was raised and educated overseas by the best money could buy. But now, in 1959, he called her ‘home’ to Miami. She was perfection. Cultured. Beautiful. And far better than he’d expected.He had plans. Plans that he’d tell her eventually. What happens when she makes the acquaintance of Ike Evans two days into her return? Will it ruin everything, for everyone?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
EXTANT
A Reluctant Hero
COMPLETE
“Hey, you ready to go?” His eyes flashed on the two drinks I had sitting on the table in front of me, forcing my eyes to follow his eyes and I smiled when I saw that I had more to drink, since I’d forgotten I’d order more for my wait.
“Go?” I asked, taking a long drink from the glass nearest my right hand. “I think that’s pretty presumptuous, sir, cause I’m very drunk and you’re very much strange.” I blinked, wondering if I used the right word. “Stranger.” I smiled and took another drink, draining my glass. “And if I’m going somewhere with someone that looks like you, I wanna be sober enough to enjoy the ride.”
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
RAMPAGE (2018):
Home Sweet Home
Agent Harvey Russell/OFC
Agent Harvey Russell seems like such a swagger laden, answer for almost everything badass, doesn’t he?
Well if he’s the guy that they call when science shits the bed to change the sheets, who changes the sheets on the home front?
Meet Dr. Everlea Grace Russell, the woman who married our favorite Agent from the “OGA”. It takes a certain type of woman to deal with a man like Harvey.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
THE LOSERS:
Double Shot COMPLETE
Clay/OFC
Charlotte manages a small coffee shop where a few new regulars are making their presence known. Aside from the cappuccinos, lattes, and the double shot of espresso that one very interesting man keeps ordering, everything is normal as can be. Right?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
CLAY/OFC
Not A Loser Anymore
COMPLETE
Captain Morgan Dean was a combat medic surgeon who was recruited by Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay while stationed in Germany. They had the type of spark that other people prayed for, at least Clay thought they did. After a blow up before the failed mission in Bolivia that left he and his team “dead”, he had to push her out of his mind. She’d left, quit him and them, after all.
What if she hadn’t given up on them though? What if she didn’t believe for one instant that they would die in such a horrific way? What if she finds him, and her former team in Bolivia and keeps watch over them from afar? What happens when she makes her presence known?
Will Clay be proven right? That they were the stuff that people dream of having. Or will Morgan shock him, and the team by choosing someone so completely different from Clay that even the one chosen doesn’t believe it?
She’s not a Loser, not anymore, but she may just make sure they become Winners. Every single one of them.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
AVERY EMERSON CLAY
COMPLETE
Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay is known as the leader of the Losers. Aside from his role within the team and his atrocious taste in women, not much is known about his life BEFORE.
After losing Max, but neutralizing the weapon, the Losers need to regroup. Pooch is a new dad. Jensen’s niece’s soccer team’s season is over. And now they have to plan for their next act. Where better than the Clay Family Compound?
It might have been nice if Clay had told the team that the Clay family had a compound, or money, or- Well, it would have been nice to have a head’s up to what they were walking into. When Avery Emerson Clay opens the door, only Clay isn’t shocked, and to be honest, Avery and Clay are probably going to have a shit ton of fun with that-
Did You Know The Bark of A Chihuahua Can Bring The Dead Back to Life?
If Your Brother Returns From The Dead, Is There Some Protocol You HAVE To Follow?
If An Apple Falls From A Tree In The Family Forest…
If You’re Going to Tie Someone Up, At Least Use The Proper Knot For It…
Feed Trip and Conserving Water
Hot Water…
Use Your Words First, Then Use Your Fists…
Sibling Rivalry Meets Show and Tell
Like A Brick Shithouse…
Behold…Yeah, Here We Don’t Go Again
Safety First…And After
We COULD Just Cuddle - Again
Apples, Trees…Ops…
Anger Management…Yoga OR—
Daddy’s Little… Taser Zapper
Don’t Dare Me…
Hook, Line, and … Have Y'all Ever Been Bait?!
What If the Fish Picks A Different Hook?
Comfort Food
A Wolf In Sheep’s…
You’ve Got Mail…
Rats or Vipers…What’s REALLY Worse?
Daddy Cams Are the Devil
Like a Screen Door In a … NO
Harsh Wake-Up Call…
Could I Interest You In A Nice Beating Instead?
The Best Laid Plans…
Sleeping With The Enemy, Waking Up With Your Future
ONE SHOTS INSERT ANY
One Night Standards
Summary: Pick ANY Male Celebrity and this will hopefully work for them (OK any male celebrity that has some scruff and likes to dress down).Drinking away all the bad crap that life brings, I (you) am sitting in a bar that I’d usually never step foot in. He walks in, few words are spoken, but intent is clear cut. NOT EXPLICIT A set up for the imagination. Also based on the song “One Night Standards” by Ashley McBryde
Hey everyone - just updating my tag lists to make sure everyone who wants to be on is on and that I am not accidentally adding someone who doesn't want to be here.
My very sincere apologies if I've added you by mistake or forgotten to add you. I am VERY organized except for when I'm not - which only happens on the days where I open my eyes. 😉
So, if you want to be added just either reblog or comment with your choice from those below.
1. Dean Fics
2. Dean/Supernatural Fan Video/Edit
3. Both
I may expand who I write for at some point as well, but for right now it's just Dean.
Current Tag List under the cut.
This is my current tag list - so far everyone has chosen 3. Both.
@warmommy I’m such a big fan of your writing for BoB and the pacific! I can never pick a favorite for BoB but for the pacific I’m a total slut for Manny 🤤. I was wondering if you ever write for him?
- submitted by @norman1967
FUCK YES I love everything to do with Jon Bernthal and Manny is a literal dream
Thank you so much for reading and sending me a message! 💙
@warmommy I’m such a big fan of your writing for BoB and the pacific! I can never pick a favorite for BoB but for the pacific I’m a total slut for Manny 🤤. I was wondering if you ever write for him?
- submitted by @norman1967
FUCK YES I love everything to do with Jon Bernthal and Manny is a literal dream
Thank you so much for reading and sending me a message! 💙
dededos
dailybridgerton
janainaart
jacobvanloon
izzy806
kianamaiart
