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Definitely Not Casual

Shane Mccutcheon x fem reader

Description: You and your friend Shane had quite a bit in common. You loved to flirt, sleep around, break hearts, that was your thing. You two were even known for it in LA. So when one of your friends ask if you would ever sleep together, it shouldn't have surprised you.

Warnings: 18+, reader is more girly, use of y/n, smut, cursing, uhhh lmk if I missed anything

Word count: 6.5k

Part 2

z0mbbiegvrl

EROTICA

featuring: baran al hashimi x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, smut with a decently long plot, fluff, established relationship, WLW, dom!baran, bratty reader, teasing, arguing as foreplay (walk with me), soft dominance, praise kink, oral sex (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), grinding, reader wears a slip dress (projecting), pet names, possessiveness, needy behavior, sloppy makeouts (which is lowkey a staple of mine at this point), multiple orgasms, jealous!baran, light spanking, aftercare (since I didn't do it in my jack fic), slight dacryphili vibes, nipple play, use of the phrase "good girl." Yeah, this one is super long. This is lowkey my apology for posting a Robby fic and then dipping for the rest of the month. Sorry for any mistakes in editing. I got tired halfway through it, but I think I fixed what I needed to.

wc: 7.3k (this marks my longest fic ever posted so far)

synopsis: After storming out on date night to prove a point, you end up right back in Baran's place and her bed anyway.

masterlist link: the pitt

an: Surprise fic release tonight!! This one has been chilling in my drafts for a while, and I finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy it!!! I promise my satc part two will be out sometime this month!! Is this fic inspired by an old fic I already wrote... maybe, but I didn't realize until halfway through this fic when someone liked that old fic... sorry for my posting schedule being very random, I've been busy working on my slasher script and filming !! Maybe I'll start with a few updates here about it.

You stood barefoot in front of your mirror, still damp from the shower, hair dripping softly down your shoulders, as you stared at your reflection, as it had personally offended you. The steam had long since faded from the bathroom, but your frustration hadn’t. The air still felt charged, like the argument had left fingerprints on everything it touched. On your thoughts, on your chest, on the way, you kept replaying her voice in your head like a song you didn’t want stuck there but couldn’t get rid of anyway.

Of course, it started over something stupid. It usually did with her. Something about time, something about timing, in all honesty, you had forgotten what made you so upset. That was the worst part. You were upset, and Baran rarely wasted energy on being cruel back to you. She was too precise for that, like everything she did had already been measured twice before she let it leave her mouth. It was mature of her, but you were too stubborn to let it fizzle out as typical disagreements did.

So now you were here. In your own apartment all alone, proving absolutely nothing except that you were, in fact, very good at being annoyed.

You wrapped a towel tighter around yourself and padded into your bedroom, the soft pink lighting of your space making everything feel softer than your actual mood was. Your vanity was still scattered with the aftermath of getting ready for a dinner you had left upset, lip gloss, earrings you hadn’t bothered to put back, and a nice shirt draped over the chair like it had been abandoned mid-thought. The contrast between your carefully curated femininity and the sharp edge of your irritation made everything feel almost theatrical, like you were performing anger in a room designed for softness.

Your phone buzzed.

BARAN.

Of course.

You stared at the name for a second too long. Just long enough for your heartbeat to shift from the irritation into something more complicated. Because Baran didn’t text like other people. No emojis. No unnecessary punctuation. No softening. Even her messages looked like they were standing at attention. You didn’t open it immediately. You should have. You knew she wasn’t the type to send a dozen follow-ups or spiral into dramatics. If anything, she was probably sitting somewhere completely still right now, waiting for you to respond like patience was just another discipline she’d mastered.

You hated the part of her.

You also missed it.

The phone buzzed again, as if it had sensed your hesitation.

Another message.

You exhaled through your nose, slow, like you were trying to physically push the annoyance out of your body. Because she was right. And she knew she was right. And that, somehow, made it worse. You turned away from the mirror and sank onto the edge of your bed, towel slipping slightly as you curled one leg under you.

Your phone began to vibrate. A new call.

You stared at the contact picture you had put for your girlfriend, your thumb hovered over the screen.

You didn’t even say hello.

You just tapped the call icon and pressed the phone to your ear, sinking deeper into your pillows like you were physically bracing yourself for impact. A pause. Then her voice—low, calm, annoyingly composed.

“Are you done being dramatic yet?”

You scoffed immediately, the sound sharp and offended. “I’m not being dramatic.”

“...You’re literally in your apartment refusing to come over.”

“I’m not refusing,” you corrected sweetly, rolling onto your side and walking your fingers lazily along your duvet as if you weren’t actively engaged in emotional warfare. “I’m thinking.”

“That’s new.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Baran.”

Her name came out like a warning, but it didn’t land the way you wanted it to. If anything, it seemed to amuse her. You could almost hear it in the silence that followed, her breathing steady, controlled, like she had all the time in the world to wait you out. Another pause, this one softer, like she was leaning back on her couch on the other end of the call. You could picture it too easily: her hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up from whatever she’d been doing before calling you, that unreadable expression she had when she was trying not to smile but refusing to admit it outright.

“I’m coming to get you,” she said simply.

That made you sit up.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes even though she couldn’t see it. Still, you did it anyway, because Baran always acted as if she could. Like she’d already accounted for every possible objection you might have and dismissed them before you’d even finished forming them. It was infuriating. It was also part of why you kept picking fights with her in the first place.

“I just got out of the shower,” you said, shifting the phone to your other ear, letting your voice tilt into something intentionally casual.

There was a shift in her tone immediately. Still calm but not sharper around the edges.

“So?”

You smiled to yourself, slow and knowing. She was trying to act unaffected. Cute.

“I’m busy,” you said lightly, twirling the loose thread on your towel around your finger. You glanced at your reflection again in the darkened mirror across the room.

“You’re in bed.”

“I’m busy in bed.”

A beat of silence stretched so long you could practically hear her recalibrating. You imagined her grip tightening slightly on the phone, her jaw shifting just barely the way it did when she was trying to maintain control of a conversation she didn’t like the direction of.

Then, quieter: “Come over.”

You leaned back against your pillows, letting the tension stretch just a little longer, just to feel it. Just to test how far you could push her before she stopped being patient and started being something else entirely.

“What for?” you asked.

“You know what for.”

You smiled.

But you weren’t done yet.

You sighed dramatically, letting it fill the space between you like a performance. Like the conversation had exhausted you beyond repair, and she should feel appropriately guilty for it.

“Mm,” you hummed. “I think I’ll just spend the night with my vibrator.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Baran said flatly.

The way she said it wasn’t loud, but it was absolute. No humor in it. Just a warning delivered with the same calm precision she probably used in high-pressure situations at work, the same tone that made people listen whether they wanted to or not.

“Oh, I can finish,” you replied sweetly.

There it was again—that tension, stretched thin and humming between you like a live wire. You didn’t even wait for her response. You hung up and smiled at your phone as if you’d just won something.

Except you hadn’t. Because not even five minutes later, you were standing in your room, holding your dead vibrator like it had betrayed you on a deeply personal, almost spiritual level. There was something uniquely offensive about the timing of it, like the universe had watched your argument unfold, watched you hang up on Baran with that smug little sense of victory, and decided to humble you.

You pressed the button again, slower this time, like maybe gentleness would fix it. Nothing. You pressed it again, thumb digging in like you could force it back to life through sheer willpower. Still nothing. The silence that followed felt louder than it should have, like the absence of that familiar buzz was mocking you.

Your gaze drifted, almost reluctantly, toward the charger lying on the floor beside your nightstand. Not where it should’ve been. There was a pause, a moment where your brain tried to protect you from the obvious conclusion forming in the back of your mind. Then you bent down, picking it up carefully, as if there was still a chance this wasn’t about to ruin your night. And immediately, you saw the problem.

A clean, unmistakable bite mark sliced right through the cord. Not worn down. Chewed.

You went still, your fingers tightening slightly around the cord as the realization settled in. “...No,” you whispered, softer this time.

You turned your head toward the culprit, pointing with deliberate accusation. “You chewed my charger.”

From the hallway, your cat blinked at you. Completely unbothered, like it had not just single-handedly sabotaged your entire evening.

A long, suffering sigh left your chest as you dropped backward onto your bed, letting the charger fall from your hand as you sprawled out dramatically across the sheets. The cool fabric beneath your skin is doing absolutely nothing to soothe the irritation building in your chest. Of course. Of course, this was happening. Of course, this was how your night was going to go. You pick a fight with your girlfriend, storm out on your own terms, ignore her text, tease her, hang up like you had the upper hand. And now you were here. Defeated by a broken charger and a cat with no moral compass.

You stared up at the ceiling, expression blank as your thoughts slowly unraveled. Ten minutes passed, your annoyance simmering quietly. At some point, you pushed yourself up, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to your chest like it might offer some kind of answer, some kind of resolution that didn’t involve you admitting anything out loud. You were still annoyed, and that hadn’t changed. Still stubborn. But underneath that, you were also bored. Frustratingly bored.

And worse, you were aware of it. Aware of the way your apartment felt too quiet without her presence cutting through it.

You exhaled sharply, tossing the pillow aside as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the decision forming before you could overthink it. “This is stupid,” you muttered, throwing on your closest outfit and slippers.

Your eyes flicked toward the mirror again, catching your reflection mid-motion. You rolled your eyes at yourself, grabbing your coat from the chair and slipping it on with a small huff.

“You’re so dramatic,” you said under your breath.

You grabbed your keys, hesitating for only a second before heading toward the door. Behind you, your cat remained exactly where it was, watching with quiet, satisfied stillness.

You pointed at it one last time as you stepped out. “This isn’t over.”

The cat blinked slowly, utterly unbothered as it got up, flicking its tail at you before leaving to go sleep.

Baran’s place was only a short drive away, but it felt longer than it should have, stretched thin by your own stubborn thoughts looping in circles. The city lights blurred past your window, smearing together as you spent the entire ride convincing yourself you were not giving in, that this wasn’t some quiet admission of defeat or a soft collapse into her orbit like it always seemed to be.

When you finally parked, you took a second before getting out, catching your reflection faintly in the rearview mirror. Your expression was composed, maybe a little too composed, like you were holding something just beneath the surface and refusing to let it show. You adjusted your coat slightly, smoothing the fabric over your body, then stepped out into the night air, cooler here, quieter than your own street had been.

You knocked once.

Then again.

The door opened.

Baran stood there.

Of course, she looked perfect. Dark shirt, sleeves rolled, hair messy in that deliberate way that suggested she had been working, focused on something important, but still somehow managed to look like she belonged in a magazine spread about effortless authority. There was no rush in her posture, no surprise in her expression. Just that same steady presence, like she had expected this outcome all along and was simply waiting for you to catch up to it. Her eyes flickered over you, slow and assessing, moving from your face down the length of your body and back again before settling.

“You’re here,” she said.

You lifted your chin slightly, holding onto that last thread of defiance as it mattered more than it probably did. “I’m not here because of you.”

“Of course not.”

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Don’t start.”

Baran didn’t respond to that, at least not verbally. She simply stepped aside, giving you space to walk in, her gaze following you with that quiet, observant look she always wore when she was already three steps ahead of whatever conversation you thought you were having. It wasn’t smug. It was certain.

You walked past her, posture straight, still holding onto your dignity like it was something tangible you could physically carry with you into the room. You shrugged off your coat. The moment it hit the couch, you heard it. Just the slightly pause behind you, as something in the room had shifted.

You turned slowly, one brow lifting. “Problem?”

Baran’s eyes were on you now. Fully.

The pink satin slip dress caught the low light of her place, reflecting it in soft, subtle glimmers that moved when you did. The straps rested delicately against your shoulders, the fabrics skimming over you in a way that felt intentional without trying too hard. It was the kind of look you always leaned into, soft, but impossible to ignore once someone actually looked at you.

Baran exhaled slowly through her nose, her jaw shifting just slightly as if she was adjusting to something she hadn’t planned for.

“...You came over like this,” she said.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

A beat passed, her gaze not wavering.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I was.”

Her eyes stayed locked on yours. “And now?”

You let a small, sweet smile curve onto your lips, subtle but deliberate. “Now I’m just inconvenienced.”

That earned something from her—not quite a laugh, not quite a reaction you could pin down, but a soft exhale that carried the faintest hint of amusement. It was rare, those moments where her composure slipped just enough to reveal something underneath. You noticed every single one.

She stepped closer.

“You hung up on me.”

“You were being annoying and ordering me around.”

“That’s what you like about me.”

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms just enough to keep up the act. “That is not what I like about you.”

“No?”

You held her gaze, the space between you narrowing without either of you fully acknowledging it. The air shifted again, that familiar tension settling in, charged in a way that made arguments feel less like conflict and more like something leading somewhere else.

“...Maybe a little,” you admitted.

That did it.

The corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes dipped briefly to your lips, the movement small but noticeable, before returning to your eyes.

You rolled your eyes slightly before adding, almost offhand, “Anyway, I didn’t come all this way here just for you. My vibrator died, and the charger’s destroyed. So technically, you’re just…the backup plan.” You said lightly, like it didn’t matter, like it was just another thing to throw into the conversation. Like you were watching her reaction carefully.

Baran didn’t react the way you expected.

She didn’t scoff. She didn’t look offended. If anything, she went still for a fraction of a second, her focus sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip before you could stop it.

“The backup,” she repeated slowly.

You shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Temporary solution.”

“And you thought telling me that would do what?” she asked, voice calm, curious.

You hesitated for half a second too long. “Nothing. I was just saying.”

“You wanted a reaction.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” she cut in, not harshly, like she was stating a fact instead of arguing. “You wanted me to care. You’re always dramatic. Telling me I’m the second choice.”

Your composure slipped, just a little. “I didn’t say second–”

“You implied it.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again, the words catching somewhere between your pride and the way she was looking at you now.

She tilted her head slightly, watching you, and there was something different in her expression now. Like she had already flipped the entire situation without raising her voice once.

Baran lifted a hand then, her fingers brushing lightly against the strap of your dress where it rested on your shoulder. She adjusted it with deliberate care, the touch slow, controlled, like she wasn’t in any hurry to finish the motion. Like she was aware of exactly what that small contact did to you.

“You’re still mad,” she said quietly.

“Mm-hm.”

“Are you going to stay mad?”

You leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space further, and your voice dropped to match hers.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re going to keep talking,” you said softly.

Baran looked at you for a long moment, her gaze steady and unreliable in that way that always made your body feel fuzzy on the inside, like she had already concluded you hadn’t quite caught up to yet.

Then, she kissed you.

The kiss was firm at first, grounding, her hand coming up to rest lightly at your jaw as she tilted your face just enough to meet her exactly where she wanted. There was no urgency in her movements, no frantic need to prove to another. Your hands found her shift instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric at her waist, gripping just enough to anchor yourself as the lingering frustration in your chest melted into something warmer. Sharper. It spread slowly, like heat seeping into your skin, replacing irritation with something that made your thoughts blur at the edges. She didn’t overwhelm you. She never did.

Instead, she let the moment build, the kiss deepening gradually, her thumb brushing once along your jaw in a way that felt absentminded but intentional at the same time. Like she wasn’t rushing to get anywhere, she was already exactly where she wanted to be. When she pulled back slightly, it wasn’t far. Just enough to break the contact, to let the air settle between you again, though it felt different now. Her forehead nearly touched yours, her breath steady. She noticed how, in your rush to come to her place, you had forgotten any bras, the silk doing little to hide you much; she was affecting you.

“You’re wearing this just to be difficult,” she murmured, her voice low, the teasing softened into something more intimate. Her right hand came up to tease your chest through the thin fabric.

You smiled against her, your fingers still curled loosely in her shirt, unwilling to let go. “I always wear this.”

“That’s the problem.”

And then she kissed you again. Longer this time. Slower. Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, fingers resting there with gentle pressure that kept you exactly where she wanted you. The subtle dominance from the slight pressure of her fingers caused a soft moan from you. The kiss deepened, not hurried but more consuming, like she was taking her time, exploring instead of claiming.

Your hands moved without thinking, one sliding along her arm, the other settling at her shoulder as you leaned into her more fully. At some point—though you weren’t entirely sure when—your back met the couch. The shift was smooth, Baran guiding you without force, just a steady presence that moved you where she wanted you to be. The cushions dipped beneath you, soft and grounding, but your focus never left her, not when she followed, not when her hand braced lightly beside you, keeping her close without crowding you.

The kiss didn’t break. It changed. Slower still, deeper in a way that felt less like tension and more like familiarity, like something you both knew how to navigate without thinking. Your fingers tightened briefly against her, pulling her just a fraction closer, letting her rest her knee between your thighs, granting you that slight pressure you desperately craved, and for once, she let you set that pace.

Her voice, when she finally spoke again, was low, almost lost in the space between you.

“Stay.”

Baran just looked at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable in that frustratingly controlled way she always carried herself. But her eyes gave her away. They stayed fixed on yours, dark and intent, quietly studying the glossy look settling over them like she was waiting for something. Waiting for you to decide. Waiting for you to stop pretending you weren’t already affected by her.

And the worst part was that she knew you would. Even now, with tension wrapped tightly around both of you, she stayed composed enough to let you come to her first.

And, you did.

Slowly, almost cautiously at first, you leaned in again, your lips already parted by the time they brushed against hers. The kiss started soft again, tentative before you felt it—the faint curve of her smile against your mouth. Enough to make heat rush into your chest. Her hands moved then, sliding around your waist in a slow, almost lazy motion until they settled against the curve of your hips. The touch wasn’t rough or demanding.

You leaned into her properly this time, your arms wrapping around her neck as you pulled her closer, your fingers brushing against the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck. The kiss deepened naturally after that, turning warmer and messier around the edges, all lingering frustration dissolving beneath the steady pull of her attention. Baran kissed like she argued. Impossible to ignore once she committed to it.

There was nothing hurried about her movements, but there was still need underneath them, something carefully contained that only slipped through in moments like this. You could feel it in the way her breathing started to lose its rhythm slightly, in the way her hands tightened just enough against your waist to betray her composure.

The couch cushions shifted softly beneath you as you leaned further back, Baran following without hesitation, staying close enough that the warmth of her surrounded you. Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her nearer without thinking, and your tongue slides against her for a few seconds, the movements sloppy. That finally earned something from her. A quieter inhale, a subtle break in that perfect control she carried so naturally.

When she pulled back slightly, it wasn’t far enough to truly create distance. Her forehead brushed yours again, her gaze flicking over your face with careful attention, like she was memorizing every reaction you gave her.

“There you are, Eshgham,” she murmured, cupping your face, thumb caressing your warm skin. Her words were a bit mocking-sounding; she could see how affected you were by just kissing.

You laughed quietly, breathless despite yourself. “You sound very pleased with yourself right now.”

“I usually am,” she replied dryly, though her hand slid slowly along your side, up to your chest, which completely ruined the calmness of her tone.

You rolled your eyes faintly, but the reaction dissolved the second she kissed you again. This time, it was deeper immediately, less teasing and more consuming, the kind of kiss that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your hand slipped into her hair instinctively, fingers brushing through the curly hair. As her tongue tangles with yours, her hands drift lower, fingers gripping the curve of your ass, tugging your slip dress up, pulling you up against her knee. The second she guided your hips, you lightly ground against her slowly, a soft, whiny moan slipping out.

Baran’s breathing had gone uneven when she pulled away, warm and shallow near your throat as though she was fighting to stay composed and failing beautifully at it. Every movement of her mouth felt deliberate, like she knew exactly what you wanted. She normally did. She was forcing herself to slow down even while desire burned hot beneath her calm exterior. Her lips pressed against yours again, softer this time, deeper in a way that made your chest ache. She memorized every little sound you made, every tiny twitch in your body, every shaky inhale that escaped whenever her knee pushed up between your thighs just right. The friction had your head tilting back against the couch cushion, hands grabbing her waist, her chest, anywhere you could reach, with no real motive other than to touch.

Another slow grind against her knee dragged a breathless sound from you, and Baran’s mouth twitched into the faintest smirk before she leaned down to your neck again. Her lips brushed along the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, lingering there before she bit down lightly, just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to go straight to her head. You felt it in the way her grip tightened suddenly, fingertips pressing harder into your ass while she rolled her knee up again, slower this time, more intentional. A low sound slipped from her throat near your ear, rough and needy in a way that made heat curl low in your stomach.

“Fuck,” she muttered quietly, voice strained.

The word fanned across your skin, making your pulse jump. You could feel how hard she was trying to stay patient, how every teasing kiss and measured movement was barely containing the hunger underneath. Baran pulled back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes flicking over your warm face, your swollen lips, the way you were still unconsciously rocking against her. Her expression softened for half a second, almost affectionate, thumb brushing along your waist beneath your shirt, before something darker settled back over her features.

“Get to the bed,” she said huskily, the command low and rough around the edges. “Now, before I lose my mind out here.”

The words sent a shiver straight down your spine.

You barely had time to laugh softly before she was helping you off the couch, her hands never really left you. The second you turned toward the hallway, Baran’s palm landed against your ass in a playful smack that made you yelp and glance back at her with wide eyes.

A smug grin tugged at her lips immediately.

“Keep walking,” she murmured.

There was something unfairly attractive about seeing her like this—usually so composed, so controlled, now following close behind you with her jaw tight and her eyes full of want. The tension in the air felt thick enough to choke on by the time you reached her bedroom. The moment you stepped inside, Baran crowded into you from behind, one hand sliding around your waist while the other pushed the door shut with a dull click.

Then her mouth was on you again.

The kiss was hotter this time, less patient than before. She backed you toward the bed slowly, lips moving against yours with messy desperation while her hands roamed over your body like she couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch first. The back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you let out a startled laugh against her mouth, but Baran only kissed you harder to swallow the sound.

“You drive me inside, you know that?” she murmured between kisses, forehead resting briefly against yours. Her voice had dropped lower now, rough with restraint. “Walking around looking at me like that all night like you weren’t trying to start something.”

You smiled breathlessly. “Maybe I was.”

Baran exhaled a quiet, disbelieving laugh before shaking her head. “Dangerous answer.”

She nudged you backward onto the mattress gently, despite the impatience written all over her face, climbing over you immediately after. The bed dipped beneath her weight while she settled between your thighs, one hand sliding into your hair to tilt your head back for another kiss. Every touch from her felt warm and grounding, even when there was an edge of desperation behind it. She kissed you slowly again, like she couldn’t help herself, like no matter how needy she got, she still wanted to savor you.

“So pretty,” she muttered softly against your lips, eyes dragging over your face in a way that made your stomach flip. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her curls brushed your cheek as she kissed you again, slower this time, deep enough that it made your head spin. One of her hands finally slid beneath the hem of your slip dress, fingertips tracing the outside of your thigh so gently it made you shiver.

“All that attitude from earlier gone already?” Baran murmured, noticing instantly.

You huffed out a weak little protest, but it only made her smirk.

“A few hours ago, you were throwing a hissy fit trying to prove a point.” She teased, voice warm with amusement as her lips moved to your jaw. “Now look at you.” Another kiss. “Whiny.” a softer one beneath your ear. “Needy.” Then a gentle bite that made your breath catch completely. “All because I touched you a little. Is that how your brain works? You get a bit of the attention you want, and now you’re being a good girl for me.”

Your fingers tightened in the fabric of her soft bed sheets immediately. “Baran—”

“Mhm?” she hummed against your skin, clearly enjoying herself now. “You’re so spoiled.”

The words should’ve sounded mean, but the way she said them—soft around the edges—only made warmth spread through your chest. Baran kissed down your throat slowly after that, taking her time leaving lingering kisses along the sensitive skin there until your breathing had turned shaky beneath her. Every so often, she’d pause just long enough to glance up at you, watching the way your expression changed every time her mouth found a new spot that made you squirm. Her hands slid higher beneath your slip dress, fingertips smoothing over your waist before she slowly pushed the fabric upward. The movement was unhurried, giving you plenty of time to feel the heat rise in your face under the intensity of her attention. Baran sat back just enough to pull the dress over your head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor without a second thought.

The look she gave you afterward nearly stole the air from your lungs entirely.

For a moment, she just stared.

Her gaze dragged slowly over your almost bare body, dark eyes softening with something almost unbearably tender before desire settled back in again. Her eyes were on you like she couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re so pretty, Eshgham.”

The sincerity in her voice made your stomach twist harder than any teasing had.

Baran leaned down again before you could hide your face, pressing another kiss to your lips first, then chin, then lower and lower until her mouth skimmed along your collarbone. Her kisses trailed down your chest slowly, each one warm and lingering enough to make your back arch against the mattress. One of her hands stayed anchored against your hip while the other smoothed comfortingly along your side, grounding you even as she made your thoughts blur.

“So dramatic earlier,” she murmured against your chest. “Acting like you didn’t want my attention.”

You swallowed hard when her lips brushed over your stomach.

Baran kissed lower again, slow enough to feel almost cruel. Her hands spread your thighs gently as she settled comfortably between them, looking entirely too pleased with the way you reacted to her being there. The sight alone had your pulse racing. She looked up at you with that same focused intensity she always had, except now it was softened by obvious affection, by the faint smile tugging at her mouth every time you squirmed beneath her touch.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, voice roughened now, “for someone who wanted to be stubborn all night, you’re being very clingy.”

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.”

Baran laughed quietly under her breath before leaning forward to press a soft kiss above your panties.

“No,” she replied simply, lips brushing almost where you wanted her. “I like hearing you get all whiny for me.”

Whatever smart remark you’d been preparing dies instantly the second Baran hooks her fingers beneath the fabric at your hip and slowly tugs the fabric down and off, tossing it onto her floor. Cool air brushes over exposed skin for barely a second before her mouth replaces it, warm and open against the curve of your hipbone. The kiss she presses there is almost tender at first, enough to make your stomach tighten, but then she drags her tongue slowly along your skin until finding your aching clit, and the breath leaves your lungs entirely.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp softly, your hand immediately tangling into her curls.

A chuckle vibrates against your skin at your reaction. “Impatient already?”

You glare weakly down at her despite the way your hips twitch toward her instinctively, the woman stopping your movement with a soft pinch. “Baran…”

“Mhm?” she hummed innocently, though the smug curve of her mouth ruins the act completely.

The teasing shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, but Baran has always known exactly how to pull you apart slowly. Likes hearing your breathing turn uneven and seeing the way your confidence crumbles the longer she keeps teasing you. She leans forward again, pressing a lingering kiss against your clit, not quite giving you what you want. Her hands smooth upward along your legs in slow, grounding motions, fingertips pressing gently into soft skin while she watches you squirm beneath her.

She drags her tongue through your wet folds, just light enough to make your head fall back against the pillows and your hips attempt to move up again to meet her movement. The teasing is relentless. Every touch feels calculated to keep you aching. This was payback for your teasing over the phone. For even pretending she was a second choice to a toy.

“I hate you,” you mutter weakly.

“No, you don’t.”

Baran shifts slightly then, one arm hooking beneath your thigh to keep you open for her while the other slides up to your waist.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” she says quietly.

The softness in her tone catches you off guard enough that you obey immediately. Her tongue is suddenly circling your pulsing clit, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” you gasp.

You feel her tongue drag around your swollen bud before dragging down your cunt, her tongue flat and wet. You moan as she drags her tongue back to your clit, spreading your slick around. Her eyes closed, getting lost in her actions. The sight of her between your legs turns you on even more than her tongue on you. Finally, it seemed like Baran was done toying with you when her lips closed around your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan. Warm pleasure started building in you as she swirled her tongue and sucked on your clit. She pulled you more flush against her mouth, holding you in her strong grip.

Baran pulled away momentarily, reaching up to press two fingers against your lips. You got the hint and took them into your mouth, letting her rub your tongue, wetting them before she pulled them away, bringing them back down to press the two fingers inside of you, her tongue working at your clit, drawing moan after moan from you. Her fingers curling expertly inside you.

For a few minutes, she builds to a steady pace, holding back just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. Your hand tugging at her hair, pushing her closer, needing to feel her even more.

“Faster…please, Baran, please.”

She began to lick in tight, deliberate circles. You couldn’t stop the hard whines slipping from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Shit,” you breathe, “Like that, please.” Your hips rolled forward to match the thrust of her finger and tongue as you gathered her hair in a makeshift ponytail, as she devoured you whole.

Her fingers dig harder into your hips as she prodded that spot in you that had you swear you were seeing stars.

Within seconds, your orgasm washed through you. Your hips writhe down instinctively, and Baran pulls back to watch you come, her fingers still working you through your orgasm. Her voice full of praises, none quite making sense in your airy head, but you know they’re sweet when your body feels all warm. Once you finally come back down, you see her face, lips, and chin glistening with your essence. Her face is downright criminal. Your chest was heaving, body twitched a little when she pressed soft kisses along your thigh and leg.

She came to hover above you. You pulled her down against your body, kissing her deeply. You could taste yourself on her tongue, and you moaned into her. You grab at the front of her shirt as you kiss her, tongue slipping into her mouth, only pulling away to allow you to pull her shirt off and toss it where she tossed your clothes. She leaned back down to kiss you, and you grabbed her waist, pushing her onto her back.

You crawled over her, knee pressing between her thighs as you deepened the kiss. She kisses back as she needed you more than she needed air. You sit back, hooking your fingers in the belt loops of the pants she had worn out on your date. The ones that hugged her so tightly, you always had your eyes on her ass.

“Off.”

She lifted her hips, letting you peel the pants and her thong down together. When you tossed them to the side, you saw her cunt was glistening, flushed. She was practically leaking after bringing you to your own orgasm. Getting off on getting you off.

You dragged a finger through her slit, similar to how she teased you at first. Spreading her folds open, the sound was wet in Baran’s bedroom.

“Don’t be like that.”

You playfully pouted, circling her clit softly. “You teased me for hours.”

She makes a frustrated noise, “It wasn’t hours.”

“Hours.”

You dragged your fingers through all the slickness, coating them with her wetness, then dragging your wet fingertips against her clit. Finally, you slipped a finger inside of her, feeling the way she clenched around it, then pulling out only for a second to replace it with two, hearing her let out a soft hiss. You slowly fucked your fingers into her slowly and shallow, stretching her. You leaned over her chest, kissing her breast, taking one of her nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the peaked bud. Baran arched into your touch, moaning low when your fingers curled into her.

“You’re dripping,” you murmured against her skin, rubbing the spot that makes her gasp. You felt her hips rock down onto your fingers. You came off her nipple with a pop and moved onto the neglected one, moaning around her. You fucked her steadily, thumb rubbing her clit in tight circles.

You pulled off of her, sliding back down to replace your thumb with your tongue, swirling the tip of it around her clit. You felt her walls flutter around your fingers, her moans getting breathier as she got closer to the edge. Her hip ground down shamelessly. Slick sounds fill the room every time you thrust your fingers in and out.

When she finally comes hard, back arching off her bed, cunt pulsing around your fingers, gripping in a tight vice. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm—slow and deep—drawing it out until she was shuddering against the bed. You smiled against her clit, giving one last hard suck, causing her thighs to shake around your head, allowing you to feel the aftershocks. You pulled up, kissing around her pubic area, tasting the sweat on her skin.

Slowly, you pulled your fingers out of her, slowly to not hurt her in any way. Baran lets a little whine slip before she pulls you into her arms.

“You okay?” you asked, kissing her face softly, brushing her curls damp with sweat off her face.

Baran nodded.

You leaned down to press a sweet kiss against the tip of her nose. You pulled back, “Be right back.”

The bathroom light spilled warm across the bedroom when you stepped back inside, two damp towels folded over your arm. The air still carried the faint smell of sweat and Baran’s laundry detergent, ground in a domestic way.

Baran was stretched across the bed on her back, one arm tucked beneath her head, while she watched you approach. Her curls were slightly damp around her neck, cheeks warm from the actions, dark eyes following your movement carefully. The walls she kept up around everyone else never fully existed with you; moments like this were when they disappeared entirely.

You climbed carefully onto the mattress beside her and unfolded one of the towels.

“You don’t have to do that right now,” she murmured.

“I want to,” you answered quietly.

Baran let out a slow breath through her nose and relaxed deeper into the pillows while you gently started cleaning the sweat and stickiness from her skin. You were careful with her, tender around the sensitive parts of her thighs where every little touch still made her twitch slightly. The towel glided softly against warm skin while your other hand steadied against her knee.

A tiny shiver rolled through her body, and one of her brows twitched upward.

“Sorry,” you whispered with a small laugh.

“You’re fine.”

Her voice came out rough but fond.

You continued slowly, taking your time cleaning the inside of her thighs, her hips, and the sheen of sweat along her stomach. Baran watched you the entire time with intense eyes that always made you feel seen down to your bones. Like she wanted to memorize every version of you.

You thought back to how you got dramatic about something you could barely remember. Telling your girlfriend she was losing to a vibrator earlier that night. Your face warmed just thinking about it.

Baran noticed immediately.

“What?” she asked quietly.

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

You snorted softly at that. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re avoiding whatever thought just embarrassed you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward triumphantly when you groaned.

You finished cleaning her off first before standing to take care of yourself in the bathroom. By the time you came back, Bara had shifted onto her side, blankets loose around her waist, while she watched you return with sleepy eyes. You tossed the towels toward the pile of abandoned clothes on the floor for later and crawled back into bed beside her. The mattress dipped beneath your weight immediately, and Baran didn’t hesitate for even a second before pulling you into her.

You melted against her chest with a quiet sigh while her fingers lazily dragged up and down your arm. The repetitive motion sends chills across your skin despite the heat between you both.

You mumbled against her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Baran’s hand paused briefly. “For?”

You lifted your head just enough to look at her. “For storming out of the date night in a bad mood.”

Her expression softened instantly.

“And for saying you were second choice to my vibrator.”

That finally earned a low laugh from her, tired and genuine.

You pointed at her chest. “Don’t laugh, I was being very serious at the time.”

“Mhm.”

“I was.”

Baran’s eyes narrowed slightly while her fingers continued tracing along your arm. “And yet here you are.”

You tried not to smile and failed right away. “Yeah, well. You’re better.”

“I know.”

The confidence in her answer made you laugh softly into her shoulder.

“So cocky.”

“It’s not cocky if it’s true.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, but Baran only tucked you closer against her chest until your leg tangled with hers beneath the blankets.

“I love you.”

You tilted your head up enough to press a lingering kiss against her jaw. “I love you too.”

taglist - @qualysworld @cinnamoncunt @drtrintysantos @cherubvado @amelia-styles @slutforabbyanderson @wishesofficial

JOIN MY TAGLIST!!!

j4deddd

PLS PLS CAN U DO READER X ANY OF THEM AND THEYRE EXES AND THEN THEY CRACK A LOT LIKE REALLY FREAKY THEN GET BACK TG 🥹

lmao this wording has me fried

raincheck - teaser!

★ a/n: hiii this is an old draft it's not finished or proofread but i wanted to post something since i haven't in FOREVER!! sorry 4 being gone for so long i hope u guys like it if u do ill finish it n post it :P

nsfw below the cut !!

verumex

xoluvx

places where you and rue had sex:

❥ under the bleachers: she'd asked you to meet her there. you'd done so apprehensively. you weren't necessarily back on speaking terms since you found out she wasn't sober anymore. you tilted your head as you watched her with your arms crossed. she was speaking rapidly, hands flailing, apologies spewing from her lips. her really pretty lips that you missed so much. you found yourself wound in her web once again and before you knew it, your hands were in her hair and her hands were busy unbuttoning your jeans. her fingers were soon occupied with your pussy. neither of you caring that literally anyone could walk out and see you getting fingered in broad daylight.

❥ in an empty classroom: this one was a wild card. one you never thought would happen. though you did think about it often. you thought about her bending you over your desk. you thought about her planting your lap on the hard surface, opening your legs, eating you out. you thought of your hands tangled in her hair and your moans bouncing off the walls. so color yourself surprised when all of that happened. giggling and stumbling bodies. groans and pants and gasps and constant glances at the door. you didn't have to dream about it anymore.

❥ on fez's couch: you were drunk. fez's house was the only place you could go to without getting in trouble. he was very clear about not doing anything nasty on his couch but that was quite literally impossible when your bodies were squished on the small thing. your noses were clashing with every kiss and you were so intoxicated that every touch, every sigh, sent tingles down your spine. she was only tipsy. you'd been mad she was drinking and you don't know why you thought getting shitfaced was going to be good payback. anyway, you both ended up here and you practically begged her to fuck you (silently). she let you use her thigh to get off.

❥ in fez's car: i mean this one is pretty self-explanatory. read more if you dare.

❥ in a random's backyard: they had a couch in the backyard.. of course you were going to use it. unlike the time on fez's couch, you were both sober so the decision really couldn't be justified or explained away. you needed air; physically, metaphorically. you were making out, tongues tussling as you climbed onto her lap. she slid her hands under your skirt and palmed your clothed pussy. you moaned into her mouth, grinding your hips against her palm. she could feel your seeping through the fabric and uttered her own moans of sexual frustration. you begged her to insert her fingers and she did so gladly, eyes wide when you glided on her digits holding on to her shoulders. you were so wet, she could almost hear you sloshing on her fingers even though the music was blasting. you tossed your head back chanting her name as you used her fingers for your own dirty selfish pleasure.

requested by @starinsunset ❥₊ ⊹

creepy-voices-listen-deactivate

I think the creepypasta fandom has a issue with original characters ( and creators, honestly ) that are black - as in, they are treated in a much harsher manner and are under heavier scrutiny than if they were white. This can be said about any fandom, of course, but it's a issue than should be addressed and talked about more, I believe.

definitely.

seireitonin

If you agree with this sentiment, then why are you guys getting mad at me for defending myself against someone calling me slurs? It’s wrong and it’s not fair. Once again here are the screenshots of that AI account coming TO ME UNPROVOKED and calling me slurs. I don’t understand how I’m the bad guy and I’m supposed to apologize for defending myself against something so horrible. Even if it hurts ppls feelings or makes them uncomfortable. The slurs are apparently fine with ppl but me being “mean” and defending myself against racism and slander is too much? See how that doesn’t look good?

If you agree with this sentiment why are we defending a literal AI troll account instead of supporting a poc in the face of racist harassment? And making callout posts against them for being rightfully upset at racism and the account doing it?

Reevaluate what you say.

sturstead

the pitt ooc spoilers

joyslow

ricardo gonzalez

butchb4it-deactivated20260714

daddy’s girl femme (it’s me) (except i don’t have a dad) (the dad is always somehow a butch)

science-hoes

Anyways

theatomicluminarydetective

oh boy i’m winded

undefiinedd33

ilzzey

seireitonin

Who ever says Toby isn’t midwestern emo is a liar! You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t his vibe? Lair.

seireitonin

Iconic post

oh-good

this is a Christmas post for you to like and unlike over and over to see the little snowy animation they have rn

wayslidecool

the grinch is fucked up right. he was created specifically as a critique of the commercialization of christmas, but now all his edge has been sanded off. now he's a generic mascot for "hates christmas," which is great to have because the commercialization of christmas has become so overbearing that that's a demographic you can market to! and now he's just part of the Christmas Fold. he's santa's edgier joker counterpart. he has become the very thing he sought to destroy. back in november i checked out a customer with a $1100 order and most of it was grinch merchandise

shorthistorian

sweetestcola

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